Wild Duck revisited

Wild Duck revisited

  by John Fajo

  Copyright 2002, 2012

  Proofreading and short description: Christine Kecskemeti (2011, 2012)

  Cover design and editing: Csaba Mengyan (2011, 2012)

  For correspondence write to [email protected]

  An antithesis to Henrik Ibsen’s Wild Duck

  License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage others to download their own copy.

  Chapter 1: First Act

  He took a last good look at himself in the glass facade of the new headquarters building before going in; his tie and suit seemed fine. He had to be neat, after all, company chief, Werle, didn’t hold dinner parties too often, especially one in which he was invited. The building, he now entered, was prestigious in appearance representing power and might. Its construction was just recently finished, and it consisted of the most novel materials. With 20 stories shooting to the sky, outside elevators, and an overall post-post-post-modernist architecture, it looked down on the city from a hilltop. “Development and improvement,” was the slogan of chief Werle, and it showed in every aspect of the company.

  He entered the building and went to the reception desk. “I have come for the dinner party,” he told the receptionist, a young woman he had never seen before.

  “May I have your invitation card?” she asked. He was baffled, because he had no invitation card, and blushed.

  “I work for the company,” he said. The woman looked at him demandingly, and a grimace appeared on her face as if saying “I have never seen you here before”. “I mean, I usually prepare the presentation material, you know... the leaflets and brochures, and the computer imaging of course,” he said. “Gregers Werle has invited me. I didn’t know an invitation card was needed; he told me nothing.”

  “Just a moment,” the receptionist said, and after a short conversation on the phone, instructed him: “take the elevator to the 14th floor, and on your right, you’ll find the conference hall.”

  He thanked the woman reluctantly, and went to the elevator. Somehow he found his suit awkward to wear, it wasn’t tight or loose; he simply wasn’t used to wearing suits. He looked back over his shoulder to the receptionist, who sat there morosely. Despite her demeanor, he thought her pretty with a nice face and body. Women in the north were the most beautiful, he pondered as he stepped into the elevator. He used the short ascent to take a look at the city outside, sparkling in the night. Everything looked different from here; as if it was a different world. He tried to find his workshop, but he couldn’t locate it, it was in the eastern side of the city, on the outskirts.

  When he got out of the elevator he almost stumbled into his schoolmate and old friend, Gregers, whom he hadn’t seen in ages. At first they looked at each other, then a joyful expression emerged on their faces, and they embraced each other with the fierceness of youth as if trying to continue where they had left off.

  “It must be 15 years,” Gregers exclaimed excitedly.

  “Actually almost 16,” he said with joy filling his heart. “Damn, I sure missed you,” they mutually agreed on that.

  “Come, Hjalmar,” Gregers told him, “we have time to talk before the dinner party commences, my father is tied up with some overseas investors, so he will be late as usual. There is a bar around the corner.”

  They went to a lounge area.

  “What would you like to drink?” Gregers asked him, but for a moment he couldn’t respond, because he was amazed at the richness of choice and because he usually didn’t drink. “You will like this 50-year-old, excellent Tokay. We weren’t even in the making when the grapes were harvested for this one.” He nodded. He knew Gregers had good and sophisticated taste. “Old chap, you sure live well,” Gregers said pointing to his paunch.

  He smiled and waved his hands. “I can’t complain. I put on some weight,” he blushed vaguely, “I’m a family man now, you know.”

  “No kidding,” Gregers showed sincere surprise. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t we keep in touch?”

  Gregers asked himself, but he thought he had to answer. “Even your father couldn’t keep track of the places you went to. How many times did you go around the world?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  They laughed.

  “You must have met a lot of people.”

  “I sure have. Went to a lot of parties, saw good and evil... But you know what? Seeing you now again makes me feel at home. All these years I have been running, and although I met a lot of people I have always felt lonely. Sure wish you could have come.”

  “16 years on the run is not something for me. You know that I don’t even like to travel that much. It’s tiring, isn’t it?”

  Gregers hummed.

  “What were you running from?”

  “From everything. But mostly from myself.” They laughed, but this wasn’t a hearty laugh, rather a contemptuous, self-loathing one. “My mother died, your dad got into that trouble. I just had to get away.”

  “Those were hard times for me as well.” He drank his wine in one gulp. “Father went to jail; I suffered a nervous breakdown... I would have really needed a friend.” He looked at Gregers, his eyes showed deep sorrow. He usually tried to hide his emotions, but felt untethered from his inhibitions now. His best friend, the party animal was back.

  “I am terribly sorry,” Gregers said and patted him on the shoulder. “I couldn’t stay.” Gregers poured him another glass of wine. “Somehow I felt responsible for your woes, because of my father, that is. After all, they were partners, before...”

  “Before my father was sentenced and yours acquitted,” he said with a slight sharpness in his voice. “I couldn’t understand what happened. Dad never talks about it. I just simply cannot imagine that he could cheat those pensioners out of their savings. It makes no sense.”

  Gregers hummed distressed. He glimpsed at him, looking up from his glass. He realised that he had to change the topic. ”What about the babes?”

  “The babes? What babes?” Gregers pretended to have no knowledge of any babes whatsoever, but he remembered him being called the Oksen, the ugly furry northern grazing mammal, known to have very small brains. “Oh, I get it. I changed a lot. I was alone, and this gave me time to think. I’m not the insane animal I used to be. I think when I acted irrationally back then, it was always because I was running from something.”

  “Are you running now?”

  “No, not any more. That’s why I came back. To face my destiny. A man has got to do what a man has got to do.”

  He wasn’t certain what Gregers could have meant about facing his destiny. Perhaps taking over the company soon?

  “So, I hear you will be vice president,” he said enviously, though he attempted not to sound so. Gregers noticed the tone and tried to downplay the importance of the vice presidency.

  “It’s not a big deal. My father’s gonna run the business in the future as well. But you know, he’s getting into politics.” Gregers went silent for a second. “So, you are married?”

  “Yes, I am,” he said proudly, “got a 15-year-old daughter as well.” He rummaged in his pocket, then handed over a picture of his daughter to Gregers. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  Gregers looked at the picture, and nodded. “What about your wife?”

  “You know her. It’s Gina.”

  “Gina who?”

  “She was your father’s secretary for a short time.”

  Gregers twisted his lips in an attempt to remember, and then said: “Yes, I know.”


  Somehow he didn’t like the way Gregers said this. He felt some untold secret lay behind these words. Things he had suspected for some time, but never dared to think thoroughly through. He would have pondered on this, but Gregers didn’t let him.

  “What are you doing nowadays?”

  “I’m working for the company. Making presentation materials.”

  “Really? Dad didn’t say anything about that.”

  He wouldn’t have thought otherwise, he was a mere speck in the company’s immense machinery. With several overseas affiliates, thousands worked for chief Werle. The boss couldn’t have known all of them.

  “Yes, I am really into computer science. You can create anything with a computer; the virtual becomes real. This is the future,” he said and felt carried away by his own words, his body shook with excitement when he thought of the imagined future.

  “I used a computer when I was younger,” Gregers said, “but then I found it was unbelievably dull. Numbers and numbers.”

  “No, not at all,” he shouted and shook his head. “A lot has changed since then.”

  Gregers didn’t seem convinced. “So you really like what you are doing?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” he said as in school when the teacher asked if he had done his homework.

  “Of course,” Gregers smiled, “soon I’ll be boss, and I will need someone I can trust.”

  He nodded shyly. This was the time when he would have to “go and get it”, as Gina had put it, when he was invited by Gregers. She had thought this would be a great opportunity for him to climb up in the hierarchy of the company, using the son of the chief. But he thought this would be cheating, using an old friendship for monetary purposes. This hadn’t been the way his father had raised him. He liked Gregers for no reason at all.

  “Are you going to settle down for good?” he asked.

  “It seems so.”

  From the corridor people could be heard conversing boisterously. Gregers glanced at him, tilted his head as if telling him that they should go. They put down their glasses, and joined the people outside. They were swarming around Gregers the very instant they emerged from the room. He didn’t know any of them really; he had seen some of them when they had computer problems, and he was then summoned. Otherwise, they had never met before. He felt as an outsider, the shadow of Gregers. They shook hands with him, the top executives of the company, but there was no eye contact. They gathered around power, he thought, the heir of the land had come. He was bitter, he felt like a clumsy fool as he supported the corridor wall watching the cheerful crowd. Important people, he thought with the disgust of those who have never been important for anyone in their lives. He knew he wasn’t important to anyone, not even to his father who had drunk himself to benevolent stupidity in the past years. Suddenly his heart eased as he thought of Hedvig, his daughter. At least there was someone who looked up to him, who had shown him that he was worth something. But how long could that last? Even she was starting to change as she got older, becoming timid to hug or stroke him.

  “Dinner is being served.” He could not confuse chief Werle’s voice with anyone’s. It had all the authority the world could muster, the owner responsible for the employment and livelihood of thousands. And the chief knew it. And the chief had everything under control.

  They all went into the conference hall the catering service had previously prepared for the occasion. Gregers seated himself by his father’s side, at the other end of the table, almost opposite to him. For a moment he perceived the piercing look of chief Werle, so he looked up from the plates and saw Gregers affectionately discussing something with his father. Then, for an infinitesimally small period, he and Gregers looked at each other; and yet this time was enough for him to comprehend that they were arguing about him. He knew chief Werle thought he had no right to be there, and Gregers tried to convince him of the opposite. He squeezed himself even more, as much as his belly would allow. He didn’t dare look at chief Werle when the boss proposed a toast to his son, and spoke of the future prospects of the company. He ate his dinner in almost complete silence, and his thoughts wandered to his ancestors. They were something to look up to. The Viking masters of yesterday, the conquerors. When he was down-stricken he liked to think of them and imagine himself in their place. Sailing the high seas, fearing nought. He had the countenance of a Viking, he was tall and strong. He snatched a glimpse at chief Werle, not even enough for his brain to gather the visual information to form a picture of him; it was rather his imagination at work. Chief Werle hadn’t the making of a Viking. Gregers’ father was balding, wearing thick light-sensitive spectacles, and had an extensive paunch he could never attain no matter how hard he tried. His figure represented the leader of today though, the man who had all the numbers in his head, and an air of authority. From the abyss of the past he could cite faint memories buried somewhere deep in his soul, images of a Viking master wiping the floor with a slave. The slave would have been half-naked, and would desperately glimpse at the open sky somewhere on the world seas as the Viking master ordered him to row. The slave would be Werle, simply Werle of no authority. He would be the Viking master.

  “How is the computer business? Heard a new drive will emerge on the market soon,” an executive abruptly cut his thoughts. He was quick to respond, after all one had to be important for others. One had to be up-to-date.

  “Yes, the new millennia have come. It will...,” he started listing all the specifications of the new drive, the patches, the software and the compatibilities. He knew everything about them. He explained with ease and excitement until he realised that the executives had lost interest.

  “The best things about computers,” one fat executive said laughing, “are the babes. I mean I click here, I click there and all these boobies appear out of nowhere. You, Hjalmar, just admit it, that’s what you do all the time.”

  “Do what?” He swallowed the last bit of his dessert.

  “Watch the pussies.”

  The executives laughed. Even chief Werle laughed. Gregers didn’t laugh though. He was offended, though he didn’t know exactly why. Somehow he felt that with this rude joke the executives laughed at his chosen profession; laughed at him. They were almost saying: “that’s where your kind of little devils can see attractive women, not like us, we have lovers and mistresses all over the place.” He forced a vague smile on himself, trying very hard not to burst into tears or a violent outburst. They were making jokes of him all right. Although he knew it wasn’t true, he thought they had been laughing at him throughout the whole dinner. Laughing at the pussy Viking. He was just a pussy Viking to them.

  “Be nice to Mr. Hjalmar,” Gregers told the guests, “he may soon be an important figure at the company.” Gregers tried to imitate being only ostensibly angry. Chief Werle frowned knowing that his son was furious within and for the possibility of a computer geek like Hjalmar getting to play an important role in the company. At least Gregers could keep it to himself for now.

  “Now, now, Mr. Gregers,” the general counselor said. “We weren’t really making jokes of Hjalmar. We were making jokes of ourselves.”

  “So you watch babes as well, or rather dudes?” Gregers was referring to the obvious fact that the general counselor was a she. The executives had a good time.

  “That’s private,” she said.

  The cheerfulness was complete now. Even he let loose a smile. He looked at Gregers and wondered. Was his old schoolmate trying to protect him or was the chief’s son rather treading on his father in some way? He admitted that he needed this protection; he was the youngest and, status-wise, weakest in the room. At the same time, he wanted no kind hand to help him through life. This was presently an insoluble paradox to him. If he couldn’t make a stand, he would never be anything in the eyes of the executives.

  Suddenly, his thoughts were distracted.

  “Excuse me,” said an older man in a weary suit emerging from an inner meeting room that had its only entrance through the confer
ence hall. Chief Werle glanced at the old man with demanding eyes. “We were working inside. Just coming through. Have a nice party,” the old man added.

  Another older gentleman followed close behind. He was a tall figure, must have been quite a man in his youth. He sighed silently as his father, the tall man stole out of the conference hall quickly. Chief Werle looked at him with despise. He was sorry for his father. But he couldn’t help him, and this hurt. His father lived off the benevolence of chief Werle, just as he did; got his monthly salary from the company.

  “I propose a toast to the Ekdal family,” Gregers stood up. Chief Werle shook his head in exasperation. The executives looked at him, the Ekdal at the table, and nodded with dignified pity.

  The dinner ended not much later; everyone started leaving. He went to Gregers, shook his hand and thanked him for inviting him. Gregers told him it was the least the company could do. He was about to leave as well, but something kept him back. For some reason, he didn’t know why, he went into the inner meeting room. Perhaps it’s just the way it had to be.

  “Everyone left?” he heard chief Werle saying.

  “It seems so, dad.”

  “What was all this nonsense with Hjalmar? He is a nice guy, but he will never be more than a computer geek. He is weak; he would never make a good leader.”

  “Really? But at least you’re strong, dad,” Gregers sounded ironic. “Everyone is so fucking afraid of you.”

  He was not the eavesdropping type, but it would have been very awkward to leave now. And, as a matter of fact, he was interested.

  “Grow up, son. There are those who rule, and those who want to be ruled. This has always been so. I thought that now you finally came home you would be wiser. Didn’t all this travelling open your eyes?”

  “Yes, it has.” There was a moment’s silence. “You forgot to mention that Hjalmar married Gina,” Gregers continued.

  “I forgot to mention a lot of things to you. I didn’t mention that I bought a leather shoe 5 years 2 months and 7 days ago,” chief Werle was sarcastic. “So what?”

  “So what? She was your secretary. Your personal secretary. Very personal indeed.”

  “Listen. This is the way it is: you are head of a prosperous company; you have a lot of money, fast sports cars. Then there are these young bitches from the country, who think you are easy prey. But you are not.”

  “That’s very nicely put. Of course, you fucked all your secretaries.”

  “I didn’t rape them. I didn’t ask for it. Why do you care so much? You want to save the world? You can’t. You can’t even save yourself.”

  He couldn’t think. What he had suspected for years now turned out to be true. It hurt all the more, because Gina had always denied it. And with Werle! What an ugly piece of shit she had chosen. He felt dizzy, his sight was blurred. How could she? He stumbled to a chair and sat there, the conversation outside was not entering his head any more. There was no protective dream world around him now, the Viking legend seemed no more than a fairy tale. He tried to think of it, but was unable. There were no high seas, no land to conquer. Only a murky modern meeting room with modern furniture, and a modern smell. There was no scent of the sea.

  He didn’t know how much time could have passed; he just noticed the Werles weren’t there any more. He got up and started his way home. The northern wind blew, and it was raining outside, as usual.