Chapter 8.
Second set - The Failure of a Republic.
Berlin, 22h November, 2003
-..
those were the final words of the violent speech of Friederich Berchtold, the leader of the National Partei (NP). The far-right leader has, again, attacked with his...
-Rest a bit, darling -said Käthe, with a sigh of tiredness, to the image of "Fritzie" Berchtold displayed on the TV. She was dead tired, after a hard day writting her paper and the last thing she wanted to hear was the vitriolic message of paranoic hatred of die Nationalen, as the followers of Berchtold, their good old "Fritzie", called themselves. It had been worse in July, during the so called "week of Chaos", when the far-right part organized its marchs to protest about Stauffenberg's betrayal that put Germany at the mercy of the winners. Those marchs tended always to end always the same disgusting way: violence, violence and more violence, despite of the fact that "Fritzie" repeated, over and over, that they, die Nationalen, were against violence, although his speechess were, like the last one, in open contradiction with this claim. In fact, "Fritzie" had repeated, too, many times, that he was trying to give a more "intelectual" face to the NP, trying to give a "rational" shape to their message of hatred. However, Käthe doubted that there was no one so simple in Germany to trust him.
So, she sat and began rereading her notes. For a moment she saw herself on the mirror and smiled with a perverse satisfaction in her eyes. If good Duckie could see her now, barely dressed...
She played with impulse of teasing (by the safe distance that the cell phone gave her) poor Duckie a bit. However, that would meant having him barking at her door, asking for mercy, in a few moments... No, she wasn't so bored to do that. Later on, perhaps... but not now.
On the screen a new add by Agent Provocateur featured Kylie Minogue's lovely bottom in full view.
At the same time, on their respective rooms, that image made Duckie and Käthe to grin widely (1).
Mit Ihrer Hilfe können wir es beweisen (2), said the TV add.
Indeed...
Surrounded by burning arcs of white energy, the survivors of the last expedition returned to the lab and their time. And, again, with another failure. The fourth one. Amidst the looks of hatred and fury Heinrich Kremmler sat, not shocked, but still surprised by the sheer ferocity of those followers of the Almighty Neiglen, the Lord of Decay, of dissolution, in a word, of All, as all things, no matter how solid and permanent they seem, are liable to physical corruption. Well, they were not quite prone to be talkative and reflexive. The bloody remnants that used to be one of his men proved it.
Kremmler raised, still fighthing to introduce air into his lungs after the mad rush to escape from the rotten (literally) hordes of half-crazed daemons and followers. Well... that’s life, he thought to himself, but Heydrich was not going to be happy. Four expeditions, many millions expended (and a few dead and injured here and there), and all that he had to show was a book that he was not even able to translate. "
Good", he thought, "
the Reichsfürher is going to be quite happy... sure". Then, looking at the book, some of the gibberish lines jumped at them, and he understood the meaning:
From the fires of Betrayal unto the blood of Revenge we bring the name of Jakroler, the Bearer of the Word, the favored Son of [unreadable word], all praise be given to him.
"Mmmmh... that might be interesting... Jakroler, uh... what else?"
Then another world jumped at him from the page
Gehemehnet.
Gehemehnet...
Where he had read that word before... Closing the book, Kremmler rushed to his archives. Heydrich could wait a bit more, he hoped.
The cell phone rung. She run from the bath, half covering her body with a towel.
-Yes?
-Käthe, if you had just seen the odd thing I've bought for a few Marks! It's the oddest thing I've seen... it's like a key... but it's not just a normal key, it's...
-Duckie... -she said, sooftly.
-Ermmm. ... yes, Käthe?
-Are you calling me because you've bought a... key? -she kept using the same soft tender intonation, like velvet caressing your hear.
-Yes... actually...
-Do you know what I was doing when you called me?
-Actually, well, I don't know... writting your...
-No, no... -she answered, with a growing perverse smile on her face.
-Watching ... reading... toying... no idea really.
-I was taking a shower, you know.
Then the line went mute and Duckie stared at the cell phone with a curious face. Why she had just... well, never mind. He took another look to the key and then a wondreous idea crossed his mind.
A shower!
Suddenly, the calm of the Berlinese street was broken when a terrible howl of hunger escaped from a tortured soul. Feeling awful, Duckie kept walking home, muttering some words to himself that no one could heard.
(1)If you have in mind the same add that I have in mind, you must be widely grinning, too, right now. If you don’t because you don’t know what I’m talking about, spare me from being burned alive by the Unexpected Inquisition (No one Spanish the Inqui... erm..., no Spanish inquisits the Expecting... no one expects the Inquisited Spanish... well, you know, our chief weapons and all that...) and google under your own responsability to know what I mean.
(2)And with your help, we can prove it.
