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Authors: Edna O’Brien
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blustering idiot didn’t get it. Inside a warning voice is saying Beware arrogance , and he is thinking of a recent encoded warning, that his enemies might be closing in on him.
‘Could we not do this in a more mature way?’ he says.
‘What mature way were you thinking of?’
‘I was thinking of the children … the shock it will be, the trauma, seeing me carted away in such circumstances. Why not let me walk them home and drop them off at their houses and then I can meet with the teacher and you and subsequently, we go to the local guard.’
With each passing moment, the noose is tightening.
Very soon he will not be nice Dr Vladimir Dragan, he will be the most wanted man in Europe, with a price on his head. He can see it all with an eerie clarity, both of them going into the local station, Plodder Pat looking up in disbelief, the young pup explaining the gravity of the matter, as his fake identity papers are handed over. One guard will study them, a second will log the information into his computer, then a whoosh as the data goes through cyberspace and reaches a head office in Dublin or Brussels. Within minutes, when the information isdownloaded, checked and found to be false, he will be handcuffed, brought in the back of a car and driven through the green complacent land, where he believed he was safe, to meet his downfall.
Shamelessly now he wrings his hands, berates himself for his carelessness, utters craven apology, saying that there are those in the town who will vouch for him as a healer.
‘What kind of healer?’
‘Quantum energy … radiothesia … human sensitivity to the various energy fields …’
‘Is that so?’ the guard says, totally perplexed.
‘But on Sundays I coach young people in football,’ the doctor answers quickly.
‘So you like the football.’ The fellow is taken aback, and asks what kind of coaching he does.
‘Well, we run, then I sit them down and talk about motivation … their dream of playing for their country one day.’
‘Do you watch the football?’
‘I do. I like it on the flat screen in TJ’s … for all the games … unless of course you are determined to lock me up.’
The thaw has not happened, but something has shifted. He takes out his crystal and waves it repeatedly, lost in prayer.
‘You strike me as a military man,’ he is told and he laughs and says what could be less militant than a man with white hair, a straggling beard and a smock. He plays a last, audacious card, even while recognising the risk. He decides that by openly admitting to having been a cheat once, he will be seen as a man of truth.
‘I avoided military service,’ he says with a colluding smile.
‘How come?’
‘I was eighteen and due to be called up, but they forgot me …so with money from an uncle who had no children, I took myself off to Japan, where I was lucky to meet a Zen master. It was he who started me on the holy path. I learnt alternative medicine and also studied the language, both written and oral, but I’ve forgotten most of it. A year later I came home and unfortunately, some punctilious clerk noticed the error and I was called up. By now I was determined to devote my life to medicine, not to serve in an army or go to war. I knew from a friend that one way to avoid conscription was to plead deafness.’
‘Go on,’ his interrogator said, his mouth half open in wonder.
‘It was a lengthy examination, lasted all day, they spoke to me, questioned me and then with a vibrating tuning fork tested the middle ear, the inner ear, at which I professed to hear nothing. Then they tapped on the bone of the skull and I knew from my studies that sound travels directly to the bone, independent of the ear and is transmitted to the listener. Had I said I couldn’t hear anything, they would have known I was lying, but they believed me and I was let off.’
‘The way you think I am letting you off,’ the guard says, but not so aggressively.
‘As the elder of the two, may I propose the
‘Could we not do this in a more mature way?’ he says.
‘What mature way were you thinking of?’
‘I was thinking of the children … the shock it will be, the trauma, seeing me carted away in such circumstances. Why not let me walk them home and drop them off at their houses and then I can meet with the teacher and you and subsequently, we go to the local guard.’
With each passing moment, the noose is tightening.
Very soon he will not be nice Dr Vladimir Dragan, he will be the most wanted man in Europe, with a price on his head. He can see it all with an eerie clarity, both of them going into the local station, Plodder Pat looking up in disbelief, the young pup explaining the gravity of the matter, as his fake identity papers are handed over. One guard will study them, a second will log the information into his computer, then a whoosh as the data goes through cyberspace and reaches a head office in Dublin or Brussels. Within minutes, when the information isdownloaded, checked and found to be false, he will be handcuffed, brought in the back of a car and driven through the green complacent land, where he believed he was safe, to meet his downfall.
Shamelessly now he wrings his hands, berates himself for his carelessness, utters craven apology, saying that there are those in the town who will vouch for him as a healer.
‘What kind of healer?’
‘Quantum energy … radiothesia … human sensitivity to the various energy fields …’
‘Is that so?’ the guard says, totally perplexed.
‘But on Sundays I coach young people in football,’ the doctor answers quickly.
‘So you like the football.’ The fellow is taken aback, and asks what kind of coaching he does.
‘Well, we run, then I sit them down and talk about motivation … their dream of playing for their country one day.’
‘Do you watch the football?’
‘I do. I like it on the flat screen in TJ’s … for all the games … unless of course you are determined to lock me up.’
The thaw has not happened, but something has shifted. He takes out his crystal and waves it repeatedly, lost in prayer.
‘You strike me as a military man,’ he is told and he laughs and says what could be less militant than a man with white hair, a straggling beard and a smock. He plays a last, audacious card, even while recognising the risk. He decides that by openly admitting to having been a cheat once, he will be seen as a man of truth.
‘I avoided military service,’ he says with a colluding smile.
‘How come?’
‘I was eighteen and due to be called up, but they forgot me …so with money from an uncle who had no children, I took myself off to Japan, where I was lucky to meet a Zen master. It was he who started me on the holy path. I learnt alternative medicine and also studied the language, both written and oral, but I’ve forgotten most of it. A year later I came home and unfortunately, some punctilious clerk noticed the error and I was called up. By now I was determined to devote my life to medicine, not to serve in an army or go to war. I knew from a friend that one way to avoid conscription was to plead deafness.’
‘Go on,’ his interrogator said, his mouth half open in wonder.
‘It was a lengthy examination, lasted all day, they spoke to me, questioned me and then with a vibrating tuning fork tested the middle ear, the inner ear, at which I professed to hear nothing. Then they tapped on the bone of the skull and I knew from my studies that sound travels directly to the bone, independent of the ear and is transmitted to the listener. Had I said I couldn’t hear anything, they would have known I was lying, but they believed me and I was let off.’
‘The way you think I am letting you off,’ the guard says, but not so aggressively.
‘As the elder of the two, may I propose the
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