Karin Alvtegen - Shadow

‘My father and Joseph Schultz both knew that our actions are like our children; they live on, and they continue to have effect independent of us and our will. Joseph brought to life the proverbial phrase that the silent consent of good people is just as abominable as the outrages of bad people. He proved that, by conquering our own fear, we also conquer our mightiest foe.’

The applause that followed was spontaneous, and Kristoffer felt almost proud. There was so much that united him with the man up on stage. Everything he had so often thought, and had made him feel so alone. Jesper was the only one he could share his thoughts with. Humanity was being killed by entertainment. Everything challenging, enlightening or the slightest bit thought-provoking was screened out. He was convinced there was a conspiracy behind all of it. That the Power sat pulling the strings, making sure the people were dumbed down and kept dim-witted and docile, and thus easier to control. Finally, finally, he had found a comrade-inarms. Someone he could respect.

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and Ragnerfeldt began to read from one of his father’s books. His voice was astonishingly similar to his father’s. Kristoffer leaned back and enjoyed the shimmering art that arose in the spaces between the words.

He felt strangely consoled.

Afterwards it was time for questions. The house lights came on and a roaming microphone was sent out into the audience. Ragnerfeldt gave the floor to someone in the stalls that Kristoffer couldn’t see. The voice was that of an elderly man.

‘First of all, I would like to thank you for a very, very fine and thought-provoking reading. I actually had the honour of introducing your father on this very stage many years ago. It must have been in the early seventies, because it was before he received the Nobel Prize. I remember the audience being just as enchanted then as we have been here tonight.’

Ragnerfeldt smiled and bowed.

‘Thank you very much. Yes, if I recall correctly, he did give occasional readings around that time.’

‘I would like to ask what your father’s doing today, whether he’s still writing?’

‘No, unfortunately he’s not.’

Ragnerfeldt hesitated before he went on.

‘He’s been stricken with the infirmities of old age that prevent him from writing anymore. But he sent his good wishes to everyone here tonight, and I see him almost daily. Are there any other questions?’

Kristoffer was reminded of why he had come here this evening but naturally he couldn’t ask him here and now. It would have to wait until later. All his nervousness was gone; the fact that he had ended up here tonight was a sign that he was on the right path. His questions about Gerda Persson had been transformed into an opportunity. A chance to get to know Jan-Erik Ragnerfeldt.

He remained in his seat after Jan-Erik left the stage and the auditorium began to empty out. He was slightly hesitant now that the time was at hand. He would let Jan-Erik have a moment to himself at least before he went backstage; he knew that actors in the theatre usually appreciated being left undisturbed straight after a performance.

Finally he and a woman who’d been sitting in one of the front rows were the only people left. Kristoffer pretended to be searching for something he’d dropped. He glanced at the stage and saw the woman go up the stairs at the side of the stage and disappear into the wings. He sat back down and looked at his watch. He had an hour and a half before his train left. There was plenty of time.

He sat there for a good while. Then he realised that Jan-Erik might leave if he didn’t do something soon; yet he waited and let the minutes pass. What was easy to do in his mind was not always as easy to carry out. He tried to convince himself that his mission was important and that Gerda Persson was a sufficiently strong bond between them. It should be of some interest even to Jan-Erik Ragnerfeldt. Just as he was about to get up, a man came out on stage. He walked over to the podium and suddenly noticed Kristoffer.

‘Are you waiting for someone?’

Kristoffer stood up. ‘I’d just like to have a word with Jan-Erik if possible.’

The man looked towards the wings and then back at Kristoffer.

‘Does he know you’re here?’

Kristoffer hesitated for a fraction of a second before the lie took shape on his tongue.

‘We’re good friends and I wanted to surprise him.’

The man relaxed and began unscrewing the reading lamp.

‘Well, go through the door at the back and then turn left. It’s the second door on the right.’

Kristoffer hurried to the stage and followed the route the woman had taken. He gave the man at the podium a friendly smile and felt his way behind the black curtains. The lie had been justified. Sometimes the boundaries of truth could be stretched in the service of a higher goal.

Outside the door he hesitated. He was standing in an empty corridor, but he could hear voices. He put his ear to the door but there was no sound behind it. He knocked cautiously. Nothing happened. Maybe Jan-Erik had already left. Cautiously he pushed down the handle and opened the door a crack. There was a light on and he saw a coat hanging on one wall.

‘Hello?’

He heard a sound and in the next moment Jan-Erik appeared. His shirt was untucked and he had red spots on his throat.

‘Yes?’

Kristoffer sensed impatience in his voice.

‘I’m sorry to bother you, but my name is Kristoffer Sandeblom and I wonder whether you might have time to chat for a moment.’

Ragnerfeldt glanced at something hidden behind the door. Kristoffer suddenly felt uncomfortable in front of the great lecturer.

‘What’s it about?’

He tried to find a way to describe why he was there as quickly and concisely as he could.

‘It’s about Gerda Persson.’

Jan-Erik’s face changed. Once again he glanced behind the door.

‘I just want to ask a couple of questions, if possible.’

Jan-Erik seemed to have trouble making up his mind, but then he turned and went over to the coat on the hanger and took something out of the pocket.

‘Darling, just go on ahead and I’ll be there soon.’ When he turned round he had a perforated plastic card in his hand. ‘It’s room 403.’

Now Kristoffer understood what was hidden behind the door. The woman he had seen disappear into the wings emerged and took the card from Jan-Erik. Her finger stroked the back of his hand.

‘Just don’t be too long.’

Kristoffer looked the other way and felt even more un comfortable. The woman took her jacket and smiled at him as he took a step into the room to let her pass. She closed the door behind her.

‘I didn’t mean to bother you.’

‘It’s no problem. That’s my wife – we’ll see each other later. She comes with me sometimes when I’m out lecturing.’

Jan-Erik stuffed his shirt into his trousers and asked Kristoffer to have a seat. He opened two bottles of mineral water and offered him one. Kristoffer took a gulp and put the bottle down.

‘I have to start by thanking you for an utterly phenomenal lecture. It was so illuminating, absolutely fantastic. It’s rare to hear anyone talk about anything important nowadays, it was really liberating.’

Jan-Erik looked down. ‘Thank you so much, it’s good to hear that you liked it, thanks.’

For a moment Kristoffer thought that Jan-Erik was blushing, but he decided it must be a trick of the light.

Kristoffer suddenly felt at a disadvantage. Something in him wanted to prove his own worth, that he just wasn’t any old audience member, but someone whose compliments carried more weight than the words of many others, for he knew what he was talking about. He wanted to impress Jan-Erik, make him feel a little like he had just felt.