Tobias was also aware that similar interventions had been made by advisers in the past, by which they violated the provisions of the Causal Authority Regulations, and that for the most part the proceedings against them had ended to their detriment and they had been permanently replaced from their advisory positions and thus deprived of the opportunity to ever discover the end result their intervention had produced in their subjects’ lives. However, despite the serious risks involved, Tobias persevered with his plan with great determination, and in no phase of its implementation was he burdened by second thoughts.
He now showed comparable determination throughout the first day of proceedings, for even though he knew that it was his own fault that the female member of the Committee had nearly left the premises and that his determination would only provide fertile ground for further conflict, he continued to defend his convictions through dialogue with the Prosecutor.
‘My mind keeps returning to something you said previously, Mr Keller. You said that it was also possible for the intermediary not to witness what you had imposed on him through your intervention?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was possible for him not to witness it and to witness it all the same. Correct?’
‘Yes, that is correct.’
‘How is it possible that after such extensive experience working under the guidance of the Great Overseer you remain completely unacquainted with the concept of anticipation? Have you learned nothing from him?’
‘It is illusory to believe that the Great Overseer can foresee an event that relies on the human factor. There is a reason why man was endowed with free will.’
‘I would like to discuss with you the principles of free will, as it is a topic of which you seem to be particularly fond.’
The Presiding Officer fidgeted in his chair at the Prosecutor’s proposal.
‘Mr Presiding Officer, sir, I am fully aware that metaphysical discussions do not fall within the Committee’s scope of activity, but I shall illustrate soon enough why it is relevant for this case that I discuss the issue with Mr Keller.’
The Presiding Officer twisted his face into a grimace of reluctant acceptance, and the Prosecutor refocused his attention on Tobias, all the while struggling to uphold an air of determination and conceal the fact that he had lied to the Presiding Officer and that his decision to explore the topic of free will was, in fact, not rooted in any particular plan. Although he could have easily made an educated approximation as to the realm in which it lied, he had the impression that he would have to dig a lot deeper to find the Achilles’ heel of Tobias Keller.
‘Are you a proponent of free will, Mr Keller?’
‘One could say that.’
‘A fallible response, you must agree,’ was Diodorus’s cutting comeback.
Tobias paused. A fallible response to a fallible question, he thought. ‘I am a proponent of free will, although my belief in free will is proportionate to my belief in the deterministic order, or predetermination, if you will.’
‘Are those not contrasting notions?’
‘Precisely.’
The looks of suspicion on the faces of most of the people present gave Tobias a reason to elaborate. ‘Dualities coexist all around us. In the physical world we have matter and antimatter, the positive and negative electric charge, quantum mechanics and its wave-particle duality of light and matter; in the perceptible world we have day and night, light and dark, water and fire. Why then is it so difficult for human beings to fathom the coexistence of metaphysical dualities, such as determinism and free will?’ For a moment Tobias felt honoured to have been given the opportunity to provide an answer to this question before an audience, as if he were standing side by side with the great David Hume, and he continued, ‘Because human comprehension rests exclusively on the faculty of reason, and metaphysics – pertaining to the truth, the absolute and the nature of all existence – is a discipline that delves into spheres beyond mere reason and perception, beyond the known laws of the universe and thus beyond our comprehension.
‘In my youth, while on a perpetual search for new knowledge and insight, I would often wonder if there was a straw we humans could grasp at to give meaning to our lives, considering that we are deprived of the ability to penetrate the truths of our existence.
‘Then I realized that it all comes down to conviction, or faith, if you will, with which methods of reason share no common ground. And my convictions tell me that if we exclude factors over which humans clearly have no influence, such as the laws of nature, if we exclude situations in which the human being is physically prevented from acting upon their will, then it would be far more beneficial for the human race if each of its members carried within themselves the awareness of the freedom to choose as a birthright or, if they prefer, an inherited burden on their shoulders.’
Tobias paused. There was something else he wished to add but feared that his words would become a target of ridicule by the Prosecutor or even inspire a contemptuous remark. However, the way in which the third and eldest member of the Committee was concentrating on Tobias’s elaboration boosted his confidence and instantly removed all hesitation. ‘This is precisely the reason why I wished to help the subject. To encourage such awareness in him.’
Surprisingly, no outward signs of ridicule or contempt followed. The Prosecutor continued in an identical tone of voice, choosing to comment on the first, theoretical part of Tobias’s account and turn ing a deaf ear to his sentimental digression into his youth and early reflections, which was perhaps the most cunning, most poisonous approach.
‘Hmm … how odd this is considering that the provisions in the Regulations are nothing but clear and concise. There is no grey area, there are no inconceivable notions, no unfamiliar ground.’
The Prosecutor slowly walked away from Tobias and towards the back of the room, passing first the woman in the reseda-green dress then the trainee. His hands were clasped behind his back, his fingers mysteriously intertwined, while the hoarse creaking of the old floorboards accompanied his footsteps. Having come to a halt under the beam of light filtering through the small, high window and having thus blocked Tobias’s view of the third member of the Committee, the Prosecutor turned around and coldly added, ‘And a man who acts in accordance with its provisions is a man with a clear conscience, a man who does not need to question him self and whose mind is not burdened by anxieties such as the one you have just described. This is my own modest conviction, Mr Keller. Do you acknowledge it?’
How very cunning, thought Tobias. He had been listening. ‘We all have a right to our own opinion, and it is not my ultimate wish to invalidate the Regulations, but do you honestly believe that every one who violates one of its provisions deserves to be relegated to a lower position? Is there not a slightest trace of doubt in your mind as to whether such a punishment truly reflects the will of the Great Overseer? Just as any speculation about metaphysical truths is a futile pursuit, it is futile to speculate on the will and nature of any man, figure or entity that is so much greater and so far removed from us. If the world’s greatest thinkers, such as Kant and Kierkegaard, were humble enough to acknowledge their limitations, why are you so reluctant to do the same?’
In any other situation, the Prosecutor would have had steam coming out of his ears for having to endure criticism from a deluded fanatic whose vocation consisted of talking hot air – the question is whether he would stand for it at all – but this time he firmly decided to control his anger and let Tobias speak, which is exactly what Tobias did, although not for much longer.
‘Mr Diodorus,’ he said in a tone that suggested a degree of resignation and fatigue, ‘I fear that our lengthy discussion may be testing the patience of the Presiding Officer and the Disciplinary Committee, and I would therefore like to summarize my basic conviction, which is that no one who is governed by laws comprehensible to humanity is bestowed with enough insight to comprehend the laws of the Great Overseer or to know his nature. No one at all.�
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Upon hearing Tobias utter these words, the Prosecutor felt as though the fog around him had lifted to make room for a sudden clarity.
‘Thank you very much, Mr Keller,’ he said, smiling politely.
The discovery that he had an accomplice struck at an inopportune moment. Following a sequence of unanticipated events that culminated in my reunion with Noémi came a period that seemed to ensure a long-awaited respite but ended up causing my ever-so-burdened mind to be raided with additional speculations and deductions. All the clutter I was carrying around needed to be disposed of, but the old wreck of a vessel that was supposed to deliver it to its resting place had trouble sailing in, as though the waves were endlessly throwing it against the rocks.
My continuous contemplation did eventually prove fruitful, but the results were alarming, as all my musings seemed to direct me towards one ghastly conclusion – that the Birdman was planning to wipe me from the face of the earth! This indeed was my theory about the true intentions of that man, and several ominous signs seemed to corroborate my suspicions: the way he stared at my window and followed me to the Roma settlement as though his life depended on it, the red numbers indicating the exact route of my daily activities, the substantial amount of liquid, which I subsequently discovered to be peroxide, evidently intended for removing the traces of blood. It all reeked of premeditated murder, and the words of the accommodating woman at the grocer’s who handed him the bottles of peroxide – ‘The usual?’ – hinted that it was hardly his first time.
One piece of the puzzle, however, was missing, and this was not a peripheral edge or corner piece but a central piece – one that shapes the picture and brings it to life. It was clear to me even then that the missing piece would be the first step towards unveiling the motive, and this missing piece was – the message in the red numbers.
Seven-three-one-nine. This set of seemingly arbitrary figures provoked several questions. Should they be viewed as separate entities or as a whole? Where does the numeric sequence begin, and where does it end? Does the seven mark the beginning and the nine the end or vice versa? Is this a representation of four one-digit numbers, two two-digit numbers or perhaps a combination?
In light of the realization that I had become a target of a deranged mind, I began to feel such repulsion towards the numbers that I could hardly even cast a passing glance at them let alone inspect them in more detail. I could muster only enough courage to face my memory of their obtrusive redness set against the grim backdrop of the rainy morning. This grotesque image produced a dark and sinister ambiance, which was why the entire conundrum surrounding the numbers pointed to a mysterious, esoteric, perhaps even sectarian endeavour. Nevertheless, it could have been any number of things, and, as the situation was becoming far too serious to be left to chance, I had decided on a cunning move – to trick him into reversing our respective roles without him even realizing it until it was too late.
I decided to observe him even more closely than he was observing me in order to find out more and prevent the actualization of his evil plan. Accordingly, I installed one of those five-lever steel security locks and purchased the latest model of Olympus binoculars on which I had to spend half of my savings. For security reasons I decided that I would leave the house only when it was absolutely necessary – in other words, when I had a performance or when I was on assignment.
It was on assignment that I discovered he had an accomplice. There was a nondescript bistro situated on the corner of my street – that very same corner behind which he disappeared after he tripped on the chunk of asphalt and stained his sky-blue suit. With a seating area no larger than twenty-five square meters, a dilapidated tin roof and pork goulash as the only offering on the menu, it was the traditional assembly point for construction workers, local merchants and occasionally Imre, the grumbling postman, in moments of high spirits. I had chosen this particular venue for its strategic position – it was located halfway between his building and mine – as well as the fact that the waiter seemed disposed to allow me to spend endless hours sitting at the corner table by the window, squinting through my binoculars and frantically jotting down my observations in a notebook, all the while sipping on the same cup of tea. He must have thought that I was insane and that it would be best not to engage in conversation with me but to silently accept me as one would a piece of furniture.
It was the dead of the night – the bistro as deserted as a blind alley – when I noticed a sleek man in black enter his building with a briefcase. Somehow I knew he was heading to meet the Birdman – I was more alert than the Devil himself and my instincts were as sharp as a wolf’s. Only a couple of minutes later the entrance door opened again, and the two men walked out into the night air.
The gait of the man in black coincided with his appearance – it was dignified, restrained and perfectly linear, while the Birdman thrust his body left and right like a zigzag stitch, although both were evidently impatient to reach their destination, whatever it may have been. They were advancing quickly towards the bistro, so I quickly reached for a newspaper that someone had left lying open on a nearby table, took cover behind it and poked a small hole in the centre so that I could monitor their movements. The newspaper reeked of cigarette stubs and outdated headlines, and the pallid faces on the obituaries hovered in the air around me.
For me it was a war, a war that was waged the moment I decided to take matters into my own hands. Two distinct types of perpetrator are said to be associated with crimes committed during wartime: the architect of the crime, shielded behind the heavily padded door of his comfortable suburban office and a collection of bureaucratic formalities, and the executor, either bound by the chain of command to act upon the architect’s order or else a psychologically submissive individual under the influence of some prevalent ideological or political current.
These two types were precisely what the two men before me began to represent in my eyes. I watched as the contrasting figures walked past the bistro like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde; it seemed to be an unimaginable tandem in any other situation but the aforementioned. The Birdman, weak-willed and impressionable, charged ahead frantically like a rampaging beast, while the man in black followed behind him like a shadow, revelling in his cohort’s idiocy and maliciously chuckling under his breath at the ingeniousness of it all.
When the two men came to a halt I suddenly felt my relentless devotion to detective work backfire on me. They had stopped in front of my building on the opposite side of the street and were now curiously gazing at my window, as if searching for my silhouette through my late grandmother’s lace curtain. Then, at the initiative of the Birdman, they headed in the direction of the red numbers, which was when it all started to go horribly wrong. Upon reaching each individual number, the Birdman circled around it and waved his hands inarticulately, as if he were trying to repel it. It was impossible for me even to speculate on the motive behind such behaviour, but what I found interesting was that his reaction to the numbers spread across a spectrum of sentiments, from compliance to admiration, then fear and ultimately repulsion and resistance. I will remember for as long as I live the expression on his face. With his lower jaw hanging open and his healthy eye rolled way back in its socket, it seemed as though he was about to reach the peak of sexual arousal, that he was so close that, even though he was overwhelmed by humiliation and shame, the poor man simply could not stop. The man in black followed him, mumbling something under his breath, and although he was trying to maintain an air of tranquillity and remain poised, his face appeared redder than the numbers themselves, while he seemed about to explode from all the anger he was repressing. On top of this the street lamps cast a white, macabre light on the entire setting, which contributed to my impression that I had somehow wandered into Antonin Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty.
When the Birdman’s behaviour began to border on the fictitious, the man in black had no other choice but to hold down his companion’s extremities and forcefully separate him from the numb
ers. On the way back he addressed the Birdman with a remark that sounded more like a warning than a piece of well-meaning advice, which I happened to overhear through the part-open window in front of which I was sitting. Although his scarlet face suggested that he was still fuming with rage, the warning was delivered in a dry and dispassionate tone that seemed to fit him perfectly.
‘Stop pouring oil on the fire, Ezekiel. You might be seen.’
‘Does this mean that you also lack insight into the nature of the Great Overseer?’
‘I believe my insight surpasses your own.’
‘Fair enough. Considering that you are one of his advisers, I have no reason not to take your word for it. So what kind of nature is this then? Would you be so kind as to describe it?’
‘It is impossible to describe.’
‘Certainly. It would be presumptuous even to attempt to describe his intricate nature in the limited time we have at our disposal. A clear oversight on my part.
‘Let us then set aside the topic of his nature. Could you describe his physical characteristics, such as his facial features or the colour of his skin? It seems needless to ask if you have ever seen him …’
There was no reason for him to nestle in false hope. It was already clear to Tobias that the Prosecutor’s intention was to strike where he was most vulnerable and that there would be no method with which he could defend himself. All Tobias could hope for at that point was to endure the blows stoically and with dignity.
‘Not in the traditional sense of the word.’
Upon hearing this, the Prosecutor flinched, feigning surprise, then addressed the Presiding Officer under the pretence of providing a clarification of Tobias’s response.
‘Of course. Considering that the office is merely a transit point for the Great Overseer as he spends the majority of time in the field, it has been a while since Mr Keller has been granted the opportunity to inspect him closely, rendering him unable at present to provide us with a true description of his features. Yet another oversight on my part.
The Tragic Fate of Moritz Toth Page 6
