Jostein Gaarder - Sophie's World - A Novel About the History of Philosophy

“It’s Midsummer, Sophie. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“And there’s such a lovely fresh breeze in an open car. Is it true that no one can see us?”

“Only people of our own kind. We might meet some of them. What’s the time now?”

“Half past eight.”

“We’ll have to take a few shortcuts. We can’t stay behind this trailer, that’s for sure.”

They turned off into a large wheatfield. Sophie looked back and saw that they had left a broad trail of flattened stalks.

“Tomorrow they’ll say a freak wind blew over the field,” said Alberto.

* * *

Major Albert Knag had just landed at Kastrup Airport outside Copenhagen. It was half past four on Saturday, June 23. It had already been a long day. This penultimate lap had been by plane from Rome.

He went through passport control in his UN uniform, which he was proud to wear. He represented not only himself and his country. Albert Knag represented an international legal system—a century-old tradition that now embraced the entire planet.

He carried only a flight bag. He had checked the rest of his baggage through from Rome. He just needed to hold up his red passport.

“Nothing to declare.”

Major Albert Knag had a nearly three-hour wait in the airport before his plane left for Kristiansand. He would have time to buy a few presents for his family. He had sent the present of his life to Hilde two weeks ago. Marit, his wife, had put it on her bedside table for her to discover when she woke up on her birthday. He had not spoken with Hilde since that late night birthday call.

Albert bought a couple of Norwegian newspapers, found himself a table in the bar, and ordered a cup of coffee. He had hardly had time to skim the headlines when he heard an announcement over the loudspeakers: “This is a personal call for Albert Knag. Albert Knag is requested to contact the SAS information desk.”

What now? He felt a chill down his spine. Surely he was not being ordered back to Lebanon? Could something be wrong at home?

He quickly reached the SAS information desk.

“I’m Albert Knag.”

“Here is a message for you. It is urgent.”

He opened the envelope at once. Inside lay a smaller envelope. It was addressed to Major Albert Knag, c/o SAS Information, Kastrup Airport, Copenhagen.

Albert opened the little envelope nervously. It contained a short note:

Dear Dad, Welcome home from Lebanon. As you can imagine, I can’t even wait till you get home. Forgive me for having you paged over the loud-speakers. It was the easiest way.

P.S. Unfortunately a claim for damages has arrived from financial adviser Ingebrigtsen regarding a stolen and wrecked Mercedes.

P.S. P.S. I may be sitting in the garden when you get here. But you might also be hearing from me before that.

P.S. P.S. P.S. I’m rather scared of staying in the garden too long at a time. It’s so easy to sink into the ground in such places. Love from Hilde, who has had plenty of time to prepare your homecoming.

Major Albert Knag’s first impulse was to smile. But he did not appreciate being manipulated in this manner. He had always liked to be in charge of his own life. Now this little vixen in Lillesand was directing his movements in Kastrup Airport! How had she managed that?

He put the envelope in his breast pocket and began to stroll toward the little shopping mall. He was just about to enter the Danish Food deli when he noticed a small envelope taped to the store window. It had MAJOR KNAG written on it with a thick marker pen. Albert took it down and opened it:

Personal message for Major Albert Knag, c/o Danish Food, Kastrup Airport. Dear Dad, please buy a large Danish salami, preferably a two-pound one, and Mom would probably like a cognac sausage. P. S. Danish caviar is not bad either. Love, Hilde.

Albert turned around. She wasn’t here, was she? Had Mark given her a trip to Copenhagen so she could meet him here? It was Hilde’s handwriting ...

Suddenly the UN observer began to feel himself observed. It was as if someone was in remote control of everything he did. He felt like a doll in the hands of a child.

He went into the shop and bought a two-pound salami, a cognac sausage, and three jars of Danish caviar. Then he continued down the row of stores. He had made up his mind to buy a proper present for Hilde. A calculator, maybe? Or a little radio—yes, that was what he would get.

When he got to the store that sold electrical appliances, he saw that there was an envelope taped to the window there too. This one was addressed to “Major Albert Knag, c/o the most interesting store in Kastrup.” Inside was the following note:

Dear Dad, Sophie sends her greetings and thanks for the combined mini-TV and FM radio that she got for her birthday from her very generous father. It was great, but on the other hand it was a mere bagatelle. I must confess, though, that I share Sophie’s liking for such bagatelles. P.S. In case you haven’t been there yet, there are further instructions at the Danish Food store and the big Tax Free store that sells wines and tobacco. P.S. P.S. I got some money for my birthday, so I can contribute to the mini-TV with 350 crowns. Love, Hilde, who has already stuffed the turkey and made the Waldorf salad.

A mini-TV cost 985 Danish crowns. That could certainly be called a bagatelle in comparison with how Albert Knag felt about being directed hither and thither by his daughter’s sneaky tricks. Was she here—or was she not?

From that moment on, he was constantly on guard wherever he went. He felt like a secret agent and a marionette rolled into one. Was he not being deprived of his basic human rights?

He felt obliged to go into the Tax Free store as well. There hung a new envelope with his name on it. The whole airport was becoming a computer game with him as the cursor. He read the message:

Major Knag, c/o the Tax Free store at Kastrup. All I need from here is a bag of gumdrops and some marzipan bars. Remember it’s much more expensive in Norway. As far as I can recall, Mom is very fond of Campari. P.S. You must keep all your senses alert the whole way home. You wouldn’t want to miss any important messages, would you? Love from your most teachable daughter, Hilde.

Albert sighed despairingly, but he went into the store and shopped as instructed. With three plastic carriers and his flight bag he walked toward Gate 28 to wait for his flight. If there were any more messages they would have to stay there.

However, at Gate 28 he caught sight of another white envelope taped to a pillar: “To Major Knag, c/o GATE 28, Kastrup Airport.” This was also in Hilde’s handwriting, but the gate number seemed to have been written by someone else. It was not easy to judge since there was no writing to compare it with, only block letters and digits. He took it down. This one said only “It won’t be long now.”

He sat down on a chair with his back against the wall. He kept the shopping bags on his knees. Thus the proud major sat stiffly, eyes straight ahead, like a small child traveling alone for the first time. If Hilde was here, she was certainly not going to have the satisfaction of discovering him first.

He glanced anxiously at each passenger that came in. For a while he felt like an enemy of the state under close surveillance. When the passengers were finally allowed to board the plane he breathed a sigh of relief. He was the last person to board. As he handed over his boarding pass he tore off another white envelope that had been taped to the check-in desk.

Sophie and Alberto had passed Brevik, and a little later the exit to Kragera.

“You’re going awfully fasf,” said Sophie.

“It’s almost nine o’clock. He’ll soon be landing at Kjevik. But we won’t be stopped for speeding.”