Peter Pišťanek - The End of Freddy

He is just consulting with the captain about the next stage of the excursion boat’s itinerary when Tina comes to the bridge. Her eyes flash typical champagne fires. Video Urban introduces her to the captain, whom Tina invites downstairs to join them for a drink.

“I shouldn’t really, dear lady,” says the boat’s captain. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t like to get in trouble.”

“They wouldn’t fire you,” says cousin Tina.

“They certainly wouldn’t,” says the captain. “I wouldn’t worry about that. In any case, this is my last cruise on this boat.”

“Do you intend to smash us onto the rocks and perish?” asks Tina.

“Not that,” smiles captain. “But I’m leaving the firm tomorrow.”

“Fancy that!” says cousin Tina. “And what don’t you like about it? It’s such a beautiful profession.”

“It is, especially when I have the pleasure of meeting such charming passengers,” says the captain. “But I’d like to go back to sea.”

“Are you a sea captain?” cousin Tina is astounded.

“I used to be an officer on a sea-going ship,” says the captain. “But then the Czech merchant fleet was sold, and I had to take this job. But I’ve found a new job. Abroad,” he add quickly.

“That’s a pity,” says cousin Tina coquettishly. “Who’s going to take us on Vltava cruises?”

“They’ll find someone,” says the captain, smiling. “Those three years have been enough for me.”

“Well, you should come with us and drink a toast,” says Tina. “This is a big day for you, too. After all, you have a helmsman.”

“Yes, you’re right, probably,” says the captain, who buttons up the modest, but neat uniform originally designed for railwaymen, puts on his cap and follows Tina and Video Urban downstairs.

“Are you all right, cousin?” asks Tina. “Have you taken a vow of silence?”

“Maybe you should drink less, Tina,” says Urban tensely and quietly.

But Tina hasn’t heard: she just addresses the company assembled on the upper deck.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” she shouts, and her every gesture and her posture is imbued by the certainty that she looks fabulous in her suit. “Let me introduce you to Captain Kubiš, the man in charge of this vessel.”

“Kubeš,” the captain corrects her.

“Kubeš,” says Tina. “Captain Kubeš has just told me that this is his last voyage and tomorrow he goes abroad to follow the call of the sea.”

“Bravo!” someone shouts out and a few guests applaud.

“So let’s drink to the success of Captain Kubeš!” shouts Tina and takes two glasses of sparkling wine from a waiter in sailor’s uniform. She gives one to the captain. The jazz trio plays a fanfare that gradually turns into an old hit song, Captain, where are you taking that ship? made famous by the Semafor theatre. Some people join in the singing.

“And won’t you miss Prague?” Tina asks Kubeš after the song and the applause. “I couldn’t go away for so long.”

“I shall,” smiles captain. “But not that much. I’m not leaving for good, after all. I’ll always be happy to come back here.”

By now the boat has got as far Modřany. It turns round and heads back to the city. Darkness has fallen. As the boat slowly sails through the city, the passengers watch the street lamps coming on.

“It’s a beautiful city,” says the captain. “You know, I’m certain that Prague is a giant receiver, accumulator and radiator of cosmic energy.”

“How do you mean?” asks Urban.

“Whoever enters its force field will never be able to live without it,” says the captain. “And anyone forbidden to visit it for a long time will end his life in torment and die of longing, like, for example, Angelo Maria Ripellino, an Italian, the author of Magic Prague .”

“I love Prague too, but I’ve never heard that,” says Urban. “Do you believe it?”

“I didn’t see it that way before,” says the captain. “I was born in Prague, you know. And then I studied abroad, or sailed the seas… and every time I came home I had the strange feeling that something was flowing into me, some force. And that charged me with energy.”

“Yes,” says Tina. “I feel exactly as you do. Every time I come back here from anywhere I always feel something taking me over, the city claiming me with thousands of gentle fingers, putting them in my eyes, ears, my mouth, my nose, everywhere.”

“In every orifice, in fact,” Urban sustains his lightly ironic pose. “Could it be the Prague smog?”

“Look, you love Prague, too,” says Tina. “So why the irony?”

“Oh, I love it, no question” says Urban. “But I don’t look for irrational explanations. Living here is just different from living in Bratislava. There are a lot of beautiful cities and, if you insist, a lot called magical. Paris, for example, is another city whose air you have to breathe. And London?”

“That’s quite different,” says the captain. “Prague is simply unique in its way. Old Prague. Do you know, looked at from above, its architecture is a cleverly organized, astronomically oriented developing structure?”

“Seriously?” Tina is astounded.

“Of course, the question is: is this organization conscious or just spontaneous, automatic and basically unconscious?” says the captain. “But some indications clearly confirm the first possibility, particularly in its foundation period. Further development of the architectural structure was involuntary but still seems to be governed by some coded ontogenetic experience.”

The boat is sailing by Mánes and the National Theatre. Cousin Tina looks with respect at Castle Hill, all lit up.

“Look, St Vitus’s cathedral!” says the captain. “How many meanings are encoded in just its ground plan!”

“How many?” eagerly asks cousin Tina.

“That’d take too long to describe,” says the captain with a smile. “There’s a book called Praga Mysteriosa . It can help you discover the hidden mysteries yourself, or together with your cousin.”

“You must tell me about it one day!” sighs Tina. “I could listen to you forever!”

“ Praga caput regni,” says Kubeš, looking at the towers of Prague and the illuminated Charles Bridge in the distance ahead of them.

“What does that mean?” asks cousin Tina. “I’ve often heard that, but I must confess that I don’t know what it means.”

“Prague destroyed by rain,” Urban attempts a translation.

“Prague, queen of cities,” Kubeš corrects him. “Or, rather, mother of cities.”

“Of course,” says Urban meekly. “I was only joking.”

Before the weir between Kampa and Charles Bridge, the boat stops and drops anchor. Smiling, Video Urban takes out his mobile phone, calls a number and issues a order. The park between Werich’s villa and Sova’s mills conceals a team of fireworks men who will start a festive fireworks show. Against the dark sky, with a garishly illuminated Malá Strana, golden, red, and green sparkling fountains of fire race over the sky.

“Wow!” shouts cousin Tina and claps enthusiastically.

When the company leaves the excursion boat, the captain naturally and unobtrusively falls in with Tina and Urban.

“All the same, it’s an odd feeling,” he says, as the three of them walk along Rašín Embankment towards the National Theatre. “I was so much looking forward to leaving this job one day, but now I have a strange feeling. On the one hand, I’m happy I’ve found something I’m qualified for, but on the other hand, I’ll probably miss those little Prague boats.”

They sip Czech sparkling wine from glasses they took from the boat. When they finish, they leave the empty bottle and glasses on a stone balustrade above the river and continue walking. “People are never content with what they have,” says Tina, “and always want something else.”