Jonas Karlsson - The Room

‘Do you know what I think?’ he said, in a completely different voice, almost a whisper.

‘No,’ I said, suddenly noticing the loud ticking sound that the big clock on the wall was making.

‘If you’d like my own personal opinion,’ he said, ‘I’d have to say …’

‘Yes, what would you say?’

He looked at me for a brief moment.

‘I’d say that you’re putting it on.’

Inside the room there was a calm, a concentration that felt like early mornings at school. It contained the same relaxed feeling and limited freedom. Each line seemed perfectly connected to the next. Everything messy and unsettling vanished. Precision returned.

I ran my finger over the desktop and felt the utterly straight line that was held at precisely the same plane by the flawlessly sanded and varnished veneer chipboard, which in turn rested upon the perfect frame: spray-painted legs made of metal tubing. I was sure that a spirit-level would prove the evenness of this generously proportioned work-surface.

Beneath the desktop, inside the legs on one side, was a varnished document store on wheels with a cedar-wood frame. It was fronted by a matt wooden shutter that folded smoothly back along its rails as I put my palm on the front and slowly moved it upwards.

The whole room breathed tradition. There was an air of old-fashioned quality to it. Is this what monks feel like as they walk the corridors of their monasteries?

On the desk was a low-energy lamp, 20 watts, attached to a clock of shiny, stainless steel. The armature of the lamp was adjustable. One setting for the strength of light. A firm base on the desktop.

By the side of the desk I discovered a lever that could be loosened so you could adjust the exact angle of the desktop. You could tilt the whole top to get the exact angle that you preferred. I adjusted it slightly to suit me, tilting it fractionally forward, downward. And felt how my other arm, which I had left idle, ended up in a perfectly relaxed position in which each part of the arm was firmly supported. Perfectly in tune with the furniture.

As I was sitting there my mobile rang. I picked it up and answered it, and the sweetest music streamed out of it, into my ears.

The next morning we were summoned to another meeting in Karl’s cramped office.

Karl tried to say something funny about small spaces, concluding with ‘tight passageways’. No one laughed. I took this as further evidence of his incompetence as a manager. Naturally, he ought to have chosen a more neutral topic for humour, there are plenty of innocent jokes about animals or ketchup bottles that didn’t necessarily have any association to the conflict in which we found ourselves, and which could function more generally as a means of raising morale. If he felt he had to make a joke. Because this really wasn’t amusing.

Håkan had sat down on the desk with Ann beside him. He was wearing his black jacket, and I definitely preferred it to the corduroy one, but I tried not to look at them. Jörgen and John were squashed up against the wall, and I couldn’t help noticing that Jörgen kept nudging one of the big pictures, knocking it askew.

‘I think this is very unfortunate,’ Ann said before Karl had even started. ‘Is he really going to stay? I mean, we said—’

Karl stopped her. He went behind his desk, and spoke in a loud, clear voice.

‘Björn and I have had a little talk. Björn has been to see a psychiatrist. Together we have agreed to get rid of …’ He held his fingers up in the air on either side of his head to indicate quotation marks. ‘… “the room” for the time being. Björn has promised …’ He turned to me. ‘… not to go there any more. Isn’t that right, Björn?’

I assumed I didn’t need to nod. After all, everyone understood that I was party to this anyway. But Karl insisted.

‘Isn’t that right, Björn?’

I nodded. Karl went on.

‘I think it’s very useful for us to realise that we aren’t all the same, and that some people see things in a — how can I put it? — slightly different way. But we’re all adults, and we should be able to get along regardless. Shouldn’t we?’

He looked around, but found no sign of agreement. In the end he turned to me.

‘To emphasise the fact that this is a fresh start for you, Björn, I’ve taken the liberty of purchasing, at the expense of the Authority …’ He took out a bag containing a box and put it on the desk. He pulled out the box, opened the lid and held up a pair of imitation-leather indoor shoes. ‘… a small gift.’

He handed them to me. I accepted them reluctantly.

‘There you go,’ he said. ‘Now, I hope we can concentrate on our work from now on.’

There followed five seconds of total silence. Then everyone started to talk at once.

‘You mean he’s going to stay?’

‘Can’t you see he’s not right in the head?’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

‘It’s a health and safety issue.’

‘If he’s allowed to carry on like that, I should be allowed to …’

‘He’s getting favourable treatment …’

‘But he’s mad.’

‘Really we ought to feel sorry for him.’

Hasse from accounts shook his head slowly.

‘Now that things are so tough here at the Authority, with the threat of closure hanging over our heads constantly … I mean, we really need to be functioning at full capacity. We haven’t got time to be running some sort of day-centre, have we?’

He looked round at the others. A number of them nodded. People starting talking all at once again. Karl managed to calm the mood temporarily, and Hannah with the ponytail tilted her head to one side as the prelude to a long-winded comment.

‘It seems to me that management’s way of dealing with problems of this nature indicates a certain degree of weakness.’

Karl pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Everyone seemed to be getting involved in the discussion, but none of them looked directly at me.

‘He’s a nutter, you have to admit that!’ said a young man whose name I thought was Robert. He was about twenty and quiet as a mouse normally, I’d never heard him say a word before this. But evidently he felt he had to speak up now.

‘According to the medical—’ Karl began.

‘But he’s mad!’ Jörgen said. ‘Anyone can see that. Surely we can’t have a moron who goes and stares at the wall the minute things get busy?’

A few people laughed. Which only served to spur Jörgen on.

‘I mean, he needs treatment for that.’

Hannah with the ponytail raised her voice.

‘Although I do think we should all be allowed to do what we like during our breaks.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Jörgen said, to even more laughter. ‘I say: fire him.’

It was as if they all felt like laughing and were prepared to grab any opportunity. Even though it really wasn’t funny. Karl waved him off.

‘We can’t dismiss someone simply because they are …’

‘But we’re talking about someone who’s mentally ill,’ Jörgen said.

‘I’d like to point out,’ Karl went on, ‘that Björn has been carrying out his duties faultlessly.’

Hasse spoke up again.

‘Obviously he can do whatever he likes, but he keeps dragging the rest of us over there as well.’

‘Exactly!’ Robert exclaimed. ‘Like that time he wanted the whole lot of us to go and stand there.’

He looked round at the others, who nodded. Ann turned to address Karl with the whole of her feminine authority.