Foreword: Okay, gang, here's a little dose of fiction. It was a one-day project. Yes, it's long and a little offbeat. Fret not, back to humor, nostalgia and random brilliance tomorrow. Flood me with comments, please.
“It's
a boy, Mein Herr,” said the doctor. The boy's father looked at his
watch.
“I
need to know the time of birth,” said the boy's father.
Then
doctor said, “Precisely twenty-one minutes after noon.”
The
father made a note in a small, leatherbound book. “His name shall
be Jakob.”
The
baby was wan and undersized, a wriggly wraith with fierce eyes.
“He
will be fine,” said the doctor. “A little undersized, perhaps.
And mother is fine.”
A
nearby nurse said, “He does have fierce eyes.”
^^^
Jakob
grew slowly and ate sparingly. All who saw him said, “My, he does
have fierce eyes.” This was in place of commenting on the boy's
spindly corpus.
He
was also diagnosed with a “murmur of the heart,” as was said
then. Doctors were unanimous in the opinion that this would not have
a major effect on the boy's life.
“Perhaps
less sturdy than some,” said one cardiologist. “And he does have
fierce eyes.”
Jakob's
father was a watchmaker. The family lived in Freiburg im Breisgau,
wedged on the edge of the Schwarzwald between France and Switzerland.
His wife took in ironing. They had a pleasant, if small, house on
Blauenstraβe.
When
Jakob started elementary school, he became the target of taunts from
bigger, stronger boys. Jakob also learned that he had fierce eyes.
One stare could eliminate all threats. But rather than fear Jakob,
his schoolmates respected him and simply gave him leeway.
Jakob
was an ordinary student—as most of his teachers agreed. He showed
promise at maths and grammar. Unlike most students who enjoyed the
language, Jakob was loath to read or write. However, when it came
time for testing, Jakob performed exceptionally. “Listless and
disinterested during class,” his teachers would write on reports.
“But he tests remarkably well.” In the faculty room, all of his
teachers agreed that Jakob had fierce eyes.
Jakob's
parents did not worry about him, his slight build or his fierce eyes.
He outgrew the arrhythmia. He was never late for meals or chores, so
his father noted. His mother tended to her ironing. And Jakob—even
at a young age—yearned for something that interested him.
He
tried sports, just enough so that physical-education teachers ignored
him. Due to his language-arts skills, he began to study Latin, Greek
and English. He would race through these books, ahead of his class,
but never allowed his teachers to know this.
Jakob's
life wrinkled when his parents announced that another baby was on the
way. Some months later, his brother Urs was born. He was a bubbly,
chubby baby, without fierce eyes. He soon became the darling of the
household; people would come visit just to see the twinkling Urs. As
relatives and friends fussed over Urs, Jakob would retreat. They
would remark “how cute”; “a healthy boy”; “what an athlete
he'll be.” Jakob knew these people were dying to affix “not like
his brother” to such compliments.
This
concerned the older boy little.
One
day, Jakob found what he had been looking for. After school one day,
he peered into a higher-grade classroom. Rolled down over a
blackboard was a huge map of Baden-Württemberg,
his home state. Jakob felt pulled to the map, an unseen hand
beckoning to him.
He
inspected the big city of Stuttgart, plus smaller ones with
fascinating names: Sindelfingen, Friedrichshafen, Pforzheim. Jakob
could not believe the wealth of information one document could
display. He stayed until a teacher shooed him from the room. She said
that a boy Jakob's age should have no interest in such advanced
material. Jakob started to protest that he was older than he looked
(a truism that chased him all of his life).
On
that day, Jakob felt the first twinges of passion. It seemed
to touch him lightly on his shoulder, pleasantly inviting him for
further adventure.
^^^
Jakob's
parents didn't care a whit about what he did after school. He just
had to be home by 6:08, which was when dinner was served every night.
Jakob looked at food as a necessary evil in his house. His mother
would inevitably cook roasts and other dishes that she could put in
the oven or on the hob and forget about while she tended to her
ironing. The food was dry and bland. Sustenance.
Jakob
began spending time at the Stadtbibliotek in the Münsterplatz.
It was a short trolley ride from school; another tram would take him
home. In the reference room, he would immediately go the map section.
He pored over countries from all over the world. He soon became bored
with Europe and branched out, seemingly reaching and alighting in
places foreign. Moldova and Mongolia. Swaziland and Sri Lanka.
Jakob
was especially fascinated with America. How could fifty states even
fit together? How could a single state—like Texas or California—
be bigger than his entire country? There were four such
states. Germany could fit into Alaska almost five times!
Jakob
used most of his meager allowance on transportation. Unlike his
peers, he didn't waste his pfennigs on sweets, movies or comic books.
^^^
The
ado over Urs continued. The little one grew steadily. By the time Urs
was five (and Jakob, ten), the younger sibling was out-eating his
brother. Food was fuel to Urs; he used it to his advantage,
continuing to win favor and succor from his parents.
“Eat
like Urs,” Jakob's father would say.
He
would look at his watch and announce, “There is still nine minutes
left of dinner. Do you always want to be sickly-looking, Jakob?”
After
such remarks wound around the dinner table a few times, Jakob lanced
his father with an exceptionally fierce look (one the boy was
learning to master). Jakob's father soon stopped criticizing his
older child.
That
same year, Jakob was scheduled to advance from elementary school to
gymnasium, which would carry him through thirteenth grade and into
his abitur, the test for college.
But
an even bigger change loomed on the horizon. Just as the school year
ended, Jakob's father stood up at the dinner table—something the
family had never seen. He clinked his daily glass of beer and said,
“I have good news. For all of us. This summer, we are moving to
Passau.” He fleshed out his speech: He was moving to a smaller
company, one that made high-quality watches. He would be working for
almost double the salary. Jakob's mother would not have to take in
ironing anymore. They would have a nicer home.
For
once, Jakob actually listened to what his father had to say. Due to
his diligence at the library, Jakob already knew that Passau was a
scenic city on the Danube, bordering Austria. He figured it was about
600km away.
^^^
Of
course,Jakob had no friends with whom to part. He hoped he could find
a good library—with a good map room.
Jakob—as
it turned out—found much more than maps in Passau.
He
fell in love with the city—a quarter the size of Freiburg—almost
immediately. It was a city of rivers: The Inn and the Ilz met the
Danube there.
His
parents purchased a house on the Frühlingsstraβe,
which was a short distance from his new school, the Adalbert-Stifter
Gymnasium. In turn, the gymnasium was only steps from the University
of Passau, where Jakob soon learned he had library privileges.
Jakob's
mother still ironed every day for lack of anything better to do. He
and Urs had the freshest, starchiest shirts in town.
The
gymnasium was simply a freer school for Jakob. He was able to choose
a variety of studies, adding French to his already-honed knowledge of
Latin, Greek and English. He was subject to less badgering from the
other boys—all dismissed with his Fierce Look, which Jakob had
sharpened along with his language skills.
While
Urs remained a pudgy, laughing, popular boy (the family's backyard
was filled with rowdy playmates almost daily), Jakob blossomed on his
own. He finally grew to be the same size as most of the boys in his
grade—and later, even taller.
And
he spent most of his spare time with, in and around maps. He was a
regular sight at the library on Innstraβe.
He soon became popular (for the first time in his life) with some of
the staff there. During his second year in Passau, the head
librarian, Frau Tiefsinnig, began to give him little chores to do.
Soon, Jakob was stacking books, sorting magazines and newspapers. He
even swept the floor on occasion. Frau Tiefsinnig in turn would pay
Jakob a small honorarium for his work.
In
the next year, Jakob was given a regular schedule at the library. The
state of Bayern gave minors the right to work at libraries for a set
number of hours weekly. Jakob—proud to be an employee of a
university—almost ran from the trolley to his house to show his
father.
“Dad,”
he exclaimed, “I have a job. Sometimes in the evening. Would it be
fine for me to miss dinner on certain nights?” He shrunk back,
expecting the worst.
Jakob's
father looked at his watch, barely noticing the gleam in his son's
fierce eyes. “I imagine,” he said stuffily, “that this would be
suitable for you. You hardly eat anyway.”
Jakob
loved his work, as menial as it was. He eked by in school, knowing
when he had to excel on tests, doing just enough prep work to keep
his mediocre grades solid.
He
naturally gravitated to the maps in his free time. Some of the
workers there called him “Karteknabe,” a appellation he secretly
enjoyed. He would tell the other people, “With my maps, I can go
anywhere I want.”
He
found a few reasonably-priced food trucks in the area—most of which
served new, foreign dishes. Jakob even made his own map, stuck
securely in a notebook, with markers denoting the origin of the
dishes he had tried.
Later
that year, the people at the library noted that Jakob's habits had
changed. Although he still did his chores and used the map room, he
no longer pored over the large books. Instead, armed with pads of
paper and colored pencils, he would sit and fill the paper for hours.
No one dared peek at his work. One university student opined, “I'll
wager he's making maps.” She had no idea how close she was to the
truth.
^^^
The
next sea change in young Jakob's life occurred the next year, his
fourth at the gymnasium. Looking at the course offerings, he found
out he could take world geography. He jumped at it.
After
working as many hours as he legally could at the library over the
summer, he couldn't wait for the school year to begin.
He
was surprised as the teacher entered the room for his first geography
class. She was Frau Staack and by far the youngest looking teacher
Jakob had ever seen.
She
was a tall, raven-haired woman, big-boned, will full hips and full
lips. And—as the boys noticed immediately—a full bosom as well.
She tried, in vain, to cover this feature with loose-fitting
clothing. Some of the boys passed salty comments right off the bat.
Jakob was more excited to learn about geography.
Frau
Staack's class soon became his favorite. She took Jakob around the
world, trumping his paper maps with actual narration. She seemed to
sense his interest and speak directly to him at times. Is
she really talking to me?
Jakob thought, more than once.
However,
the rude boys in class succeeded in getting under the teacher's skin.
“Frau Staaaaaaack,” they would call her. Behind her back, they
would hold out their hands, cupping them from their chests. Jakob
believed she saw some these mocks. He could tell by the way her face
reddened.
One
day after school, Jakob saw Frau Staack walking toward the car park.
A few boys walked behind her. They were from a lower form than his.
And
the abuse began:
“OOH
FRAU STAACK.YOU ARE STAAAAAACKED.”
“I
WISH I HAD YOU IN MY CLASS. DO YOU TEACH THE GRAND TETONS? OR JUST
SHOW THEM?”
Jakob's
teacher upped her stride and disappeared into the car park. He caught
up to the boys who had been riding her. Facing them, he turned on the
Fiercest Look he had ever unleashed.
“HOW
ABOUT IT? WHO WANTS TO GO FIRST?” cried Jakob. He clenched his
fists, taking this pose for the first time in his life. Jakob turned
into another person—almost like a Kafka character. He snarled and
spittled, wheeling from one boy to another.
“I
WILL BURY YOU!!!” came the feral howl from Jakob's twisted mouth.
The boys, saying nothing, turned and ran.
Frau
Staack sat on a bench in the car park. He could see her bowed head
and hear her tears, even from a few yards distant. He walked over to
her tentatively, then offered her an immaculate, freshly ironed
handkerchief.
She
took it and used it. For a while, neither person spoke. Then Frau
Staack patted the bench next to her. Jakob dutifully sat. After she
regained her composure, the teacher said, “Thank you, Jakob. You
saved me from those boys.”
“Well,”
Jakob said, “I don't know about save.
I just stopped them from bothering you.”
Frau
Staack said, “The boys like to tease me about my, er, my ...”
“I
know. I AM fifteen,” said Jakob, as his teacher's face reddened.
She hunched foreword as if to hide her chest.
Jakob
went on, “I know that Grand Teton is in Wyoming, USA. 4,000 meters
tall.”
This
made her laugh.
She
said, “Well I have to go. I have a graduate class at the
University.”
“I'm
going there, too. I work in the library.”
“Then
you shall walk with me, Protector Jakob.”
On
the way, Jakob—after easing out of his discomfort in being with a
teacher—talked of his love of maps and the world. Frau Staack told
him that this was her first year of teaching gymnasium. That Herr
Staack was in prison, and a divorce was pending.
They
parted at the library with a handshake. “Good-bye, my hero,” the
teacher said.
For
the rest of his shift, Jakob thought, Hero.
The
next day, Frau Staack entered class without casting so much of a
glance at Jakob. Gerhard, seated behind Jakob said, “Here come the
bazooms, bazooms, bazooms!”
The
teacher snagged him. “Gerhard, that's two days of after-school
punishment. Now, who's next with the smart mouth?” There were no
takers.
Over
the next few days, Frau Staack disciplined a few other boys in the
same fashion. Whenever one returned to class, Jakob would give the
offender a merciless stare-down. His teacher—from a distance—took
notice of this.
One
day after class, Frau Staack whispered to Jakob, “Please stay for a
minute.”
He
sat at his desk, fearful, excited, anxious. Fray Staack said, “Do
you work on Saturday?”
“Yes,
until noon.”
“Perfect,
I will meet you in front of the Language Centre at twelve- ten, okay?
We're going on an adventure.”
Jakob
could only gulp a pallid assent.
That
Saturday, Jakob remembered to wear newly pressed clothes. He even
stopped at a kiosk and bought a small bottle of men's cologne. Frau
Staack was right on time.
“Ooh,
Jakob, so grown up,” she said. “I'm glad to have you as my date
today.”
Date?
“We
are going to St. Stephen's Cathedral, just down the way. They have
the largest pipe organ in the world. It's a free concert.”
They
sat together in the magnificent building. There was a huge chorus
grouped behind the massive organ. The sound from the pipes rumbled as
the group launched into a piece called, “Hilft Deinem Volk” by
Vincent Lübeck. Jakob felt as if an undergound train was passing
beneath them.
During
the performance, he looked at Frau Staack. She had let her hair down
from the prim, tightly coiffed bun she usually wore. It cascaded in
ebony wonder, splaying about her shoulders. She also had on a more
form-fitting blouse. Jakob tried not to look.
At
one point, she turned to him and said, “Do you enjoy it, Jakob?”
“I
think it is splendid, Frau Staack.”
“Marieke,”
she said. She squeezed his hand for a moment.
Jakob
thought he might faint. He tried to repeat the name; breath eluded
him.
After
the concert, Marieke suggested a stroll by the Donauslände, a
promenade by the river. They stopped for coffee and pastry. So
this is a date,
thought Jakob.
They
laughed and talk for over and hour. Marieke was impressed by Jakob's
knowledge of the world. Finally, he blurted out, “When can I see
you again?”
“Silly.
In geography class.”
“No.
Like this.”
Marieke
furrowed her brow. After some thought, she said, “Jakob, you are a
delightful young man. I have enjoyed today. Yes, it was my idea. But
I am still your teacher … and you my student. We can be casual
friends, I guess, but nothing more. If we continued to see each other
… nothing good would come from it.”
Jakob
wanted to debate the woman but knew she was right. He waved a pale
good-bye to her as he boarded his trolley home. She smiled at him as
if nothing were wrong.
That
night, Jakob decided his course of action with Marieke.
For
a few days in school, Jakob basically ignored his teacher. And she
him. It was if they had done something wrong the previous Saturday,
and both wanted to act as if the day had never happened.
The
following week, Jakob gave Marieke a note before class. He made sure
to do this surreptitiously. It said:
Dear Frau Staack,
I would like to meet you in the
library tomorrow afternoon at four. We will just stay there. No walks
or concerts. I have something to show you.
Jakob
The
teacher quickly read the note and offered him a short nod and another
smile.
The
next day, Jakob greeted his teacher casually at the library. She
asked, “Alright, Jakob. I am filled with curiosity. What do you
have to show me?”
Jakob
produced a large portfolio. He had his own cubby at the library in
which to store such things. He unzipped it and withdrew about forty
sheets of thick art paper. On the sheets were drawings of all colors,
shapes and sizes. He spread some on the spacious reading table.
Marieke
Staack glanced at some of the pages. Upon looking closer, she found
it difficult to breathe. The room seemed smaller; she lost focus for
a few seconds. Jakob withdrew to allow his teacher some space.
On
every sheet was a map.
One
country to a page. Each was drawn in painstaking detail, complete
with cities and towns (hundreds of them), lakes, rivers, deserts,
forests. Icons signified manufacturing centers, farmland, suburbs.
Legends at the bottom included scales from centimeters to kilometers.
The maps were true works of art, rivaling any of those in Marieke's
textbooks and reference works. But something strange coursed through
Marieke, causing her to shiver.
None
of these countries actually existed. Not a one.
Each
land was carefully labeled: Braha, Palidonia, Futoshu, Miramidium.
She
turned and looked at Jakob, who was smiling. Stuttering, she managed,
“Jakob, these are superb, but ...”
“I
know what you are going to say, '… but none of them are real.' And
I'm saying they do
exist. Take Futoshu here; it's a third world country with famine and
disease rampant.
“The
Shemana are a warlike people, in constant conflict with their sworn
enemies, the Bitvu. Here, I'll show you both and you can see the
borders.”
True,
one country abutted the other perfectly.
Marieke
seemed to calm slightly as Jakob spoke further. He said, “I know
this seems crazy, but I grew bored of the the 257 countries we all
know of. So, I decided to explore further. And this is what I found.
“Take
Roton. It's an amazing place. The country produces everything it
needs to survive. It has plenty of farms, growing healthful crops.
The people here never get overweight or malnourished. They have
builders, factories, everything.”
Marieke
finally said, “I think I should sit down.” The couple repaired to
a nearby lounge. Jakob gave a cup of water to his teacher.
“I
don't what to say,” said the woman. “The work is just amazing—all
the little things as well as the big. All out of your imagination!
Simply amazing!”
Jakob
smiled again, “Well, not exactly out of my imagination. But I can
explain that to you another time. You really like my maps?”
“Like?
I love. But I have to leave now. Can we talk more about this?”
“Sure.
Anytime.”
^^^
During
the next week, Marieke plotted scenario after scenario to find a way
to see Jakob again. Finally she selected a Sunday and arranged to
meet him at the Danube promenade again.
They
met, walked for a while, and then sat on a bench. Marieke was full of
questions. Jakob, excited as he was, kept trying the change the
subject. He had something he
wanted to say.
Marieke
finally asked, “Has anyone else seen these maps?”
“No.
Of course not. Only you.”
“Well,
I'm flattered, but these are worth showing off your talents. Why
share them with only me?”
Jakob
suddenly took Marieke's hand in his. “Simple. Because I love you.”
Marieke
pulled a way from Jakob for a moment, but then, to his surprise,
leaned closer. She said, “I know what you expect me to say: that
this isn't right; that it's just a crush; that we have to keep a
distance. But I can't say that. I don't know why.”
Jakob
said, “I know you don't feel the same way about me. And I realize
that you are eight years older than I am, which I don't think is a
lot. But every time I see you, you become more beautiful in my eyes.
Most of all, I think you have much more beauty inside. And you have
allowed me—like it or not—to see inside of you.
“And
you don't think I'm crazy about the maps. I knew I could trust you.
So, all this means I love you. You can't do a thing about it. These
are my feelings, and no one can tell me I'm wrong.”
Marieke
drew closer and smiled at Jakob. She held his cheek with her palm.
Then she touched her lips to his for the briefest moment. Then she
was gone.
Jakob
sat there for a while, wondering what to make out of the whole
situation. What he didn't know was that the brief exchange with his
teacher was seen. By the most improbable person.
^^^
Jakob
received a note in homeroom that Monday. It was from the headmaster,
Herr Weissbart. He was summoning Jakob to his office, immediately
upon dismissal.
The
school day dragged interminably. The corridor to the office seemed
longer, narrower. When Jakob walked in and saw Frau Staack also
sitting there, he knew trouble was moments away.
Herr
Weissbart was already into his monologue. “ … a very disturbing
accusation.”
Marieke
looked indignant. “An accusation of what?” She sat tall in her
chair, her hair still pinned up.
“Of,
er, certain improprieties with Jakob here. This very grave, Frau
Staack.”
To
Jakob's surprise, his teacher leaned over and kissed him on the
cheek. “That,” she spat, “is the level of 'impropriety' I have
stooped to, Herr Weissbart. With this amazing young student who has
shared his talent with me. I'm going to need more from you before you
railroad me out of my job.” With that, she grabbed her purse and
marched from the room.
A
shocked Mr. Weissbart turned to Jakob. “Has Frau Staack ever
suggested or done anything, er, improper with you?”
Jakob
darted a Fierce Look at the headmaster. He said, “You just saw it,
sir.”
The
older man's throat began to constrict. He words were mere squeaks.
“Very well, Jakob. You are hereby excused from geography class for
the rest of the term. You will get the grade you deserve. Study hall
will take the place of the normal period. Dismissed.”
Jakob
walked home that day, not bothering to call in to the library even
though he was scheduled to work. The next day, with about two weeks
left in the term, he gave his notice, to the shock of the whole
staff, especially Frau Tiefsinnig.
He
knew what he had to do.
During
those two final weeks of the term, he didn't see Frau Staack at
school. He knew she was there, for he could walk by her classroom and
see new lessons on the board. He didn't even bother to look for her
around the campus.
On
the last day of school, a Tuesday, Jakob went to library to fetch his
portfolio and to make perfunctory farewells. “Maybe you'll attend
here after your abitur, Jakob,” said Frau Tiefsinnig.
Jakob
said, “Oh, there's no chance of that.”
Carrying
his work, he knew exactly where he was headed. Down to the river. To
the promenade. Where Marieke was waiting.
All
she could say was, “They fired me, Jakob.” And then she ran to
his arms. At first Jakob tried to cradle her. But she pushed forward,
melding her body with his.
She
sobbed, “I don't care who sees now.” Then she pulled her head
back and kissed Jakob fully, passionately on the lips. He didn't want
her to stop. Neither did she. The kissed more, waltzing down the
promenade.
Jakob,
out of breath, finally spoke, “You do love me then, don't you?”
Marieke
smiled and said, “Yes. I just realized it now. Just don't ask me
why. But what can we do? I have no job. You have more school. What,
you're not worried?”
Jakob
said, “Not in the least. Where would you like to go?”
Marieke
laughed, “Oh. Let me guess. One of your countries!”
“Precisely.”
“And
I'm sure you've been there before. And we two can go just like that.”
“We
can. Now, what country? I have all my maps here.”
“I
don't need a map. I want Roton—the place where there are no
worries.”
“I've
been there. You will love it.”
“And
it's that easy, Jakob?”
“Just
like that, Marieke.”
“The
let's go.”
The
pair, clutching each other, headed down the promenade, into an
enveloping mist coming off the river.
^^^
When
Jakob didn't arrive home that night, his parents barely noticed. They
were being entertained by Urs, who had picked up some guitar. The
next day, they finally called the police. Soon, a search was on.
No
one seemed to notice that Marieke Staack had also left town. Two
weeks later, her landlady, looking to collect rent, noticed an ugly
stench coming from the teacher's apartment. The police arrived and
the landlady allowed them access.
No
one was there. Full closets, toiletries in the bath. Jewelry,
appliances, books, art: all there. The foul odor came from the
refrigerator. It seems the electric had been disconnected for lack of
payment.
Finally
a student at the gymnasium, one Gerhard Stern, came to the police
with his parents. It turns out that Gerhard had seen Jakob and
Marieke dallying on the promenade in what the student said was “an
intimate embrace.” He told police that he had reported this to the
school.
Then
Mr. Weissbart was brought into the mix. Immediately following were
the papers, especially the tabloids.
STUDENT-TEACHER
TRYST TURNS DEADLY
DID
MARIEKE DRAW JAKOB INTO A DEN OF DEPRAVITY?
WHERE
ARE THEY NOW?
The
authorities dragged the Danube; trains, buses and planes were
checked. Austrian law enforcement chipped in. No sign of the couple
there. Or anywhere. After a month the police explained that could not
devote any more funds or manpower to continue the fruitless quest.
About
a year later, a boater in the Danube turned an article in to police.
It was a cylinder wrapped in oilskin.
The
piece was taken to a crime lab for analysis. The specialist unrolled
the tube's contents after removing the covering. Peering at it, he
said, “Hey Otto. Ever heard of a place called Roton? It looks
nice.”
