The Room (5 page)

That night I lay in bed, still feeling the congenial inner calm that only arises when you've discovered, grappled with, and successfully resolved a problem. I read four pages in the last but one issue of
Research and Progress,
and listened to Madonna's “Ray of Light” on the radio before I turned out the bedside lamp and fell asleep.

The next day the whole department was called to Karl's office. It was quite a squeeze, but Karl said it would work if we squashed up a bit. HÃ¥kan was wearing a black jacket and I felt at once that I was much happier with it. It had a decent, classic cut and looked relatively new. It made him fit in better with the rest of us, and made me feel calm.

Everyone was talking at the same time. Once the whole team had gathered Karl knocked on his desk.

“Okay, everyone. Right, Ann, there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes,” Ann said, blushing. “Not just me. I think I can speak for the whole department…”

She fell silent, as if she were waiting for some show of agreement from the others.

“Well?” Karl said, looking around at the others. It was clear that he found this situation uncomfortable. Never previously had we all had cause to gather inside his office. Something was obviously going on. He turned toward Ann again.

“Maybe you'd like to start, then?”

Ann cleared her throat, and it looked like she was standing on tiptoe as she talked. It made her look a bit like a schoolgirl. Even though she was over fifty.

“I…we think this business is all getting a bit unpleasant, Björn,” she said, looking at me.

Everyone turned toward me.

“What's unpleasant?” I said.

“Shall we let Ann finish without interrupting?” Karl said, completely unnecessarily, because obviously I was going to let her finish. But all of a sudden it was as if his supposition that I had interrupted her were true. I could feel everyone's attention focus on me even more intently.

“Yes,” Ann went on. “We're all getting worried. About you.”

“Why would you be getting worried?”

“Well, when you stand there like that.”

The room was silent for a long while. It was as if everyone had suddenly realized how absurd the situation was. They were looking at me, and I realized that I was supposed to say something. I stood there without speaking for a few more seconds, trying to look as many of them as possible in the eye. Then I lowered my gaze and sighed.

“Didn't we deal with this yesterday?” I said, raising my head and looking from face to face. No one said anything.

“Didn't I tell you it was pointless trying to conduct psychological warfare against me? I don't fall for that sort of thing. No matter how well you synchronize your stories.”

Karl cleared his throat.

“What are you talking about, Björn?”

“I'm talking about systematic bullying,” I said in a fairly loud voice, so everyone could hear, while I pushed my way through toward Karl's desk.

“Bullying that has evidently been going on for several weeks.”

I twisted round so that the others could see me properly. I touched the collar of my jacket so that a little of the lining became visible. I thought it made a good impression.

“To start with, I've noticed that some people in here have adopted an unnecessarily harsh tone, and have demonstrated a rather unpleasant attitude toward me and not made any great effort to make me feel welcome. This is probably because you're unsettled by me. There's nothing strange about that, creative people have always encountered resistance. It's perfectly natural for more straightforward individuals to feel alarmed by someone of talent. I would imagine that this has its origins in the fact that one or more of you have observed that I have taken the liberty on two or three occasions to take myself aside and gather my strength alone, having a short rest in that little room beside the lift. To some extent I can understand that this might strike some people as annoying. Obviously, we need to do our work and not take breaks whenever we feel like it, but I can assure you all that I have always taken care to make up for any concomitant loss of efficiency. And if it is the case that you have any secrets in there which for some reason you don't want me to see, you're welcome to tell me. Right here.”

“As I understand it,” Karl began, but now it was my turn to speak.

“You haven't understood anything,” I said. “On the contrary, you've kept your distance. And in the meantime one or more individuals have taken it upon themselves to play some sort of psychological trick on me. Instead of coming straight out and having a normal discussion, a decision has been made to test my limits.”

“Who—?” Karl began.

“Everyone,” I interrupted. “Who knows, maybe you yourself are involved somehow?”

“I don't think so,” Karl tried once more.

“Would you mind waiting with your analysis until all the facts are on the table?” I said, in a reasonably stern voice.

Karl fell silent again. It was obvious that he had nothing to offer in response. He stood there stiffly and listened as I went on.

“I have reason to believe that my—shall I say closest?—colleague, HÃ¥kan here…”

I pointed at HÃ¥kan, who immediately looked down and began to scratch his sideburns.

“…is one of the people behind this. At least he was the first person to raise it with me.”

I let the accusation sink in, then turned back to face Karl again. I fixed him with a steady gaze.

“I have no great expectation that you will be able to resolve this situation, Karl. But I presume you can't bury your head in the sand indefinitely, and that that's why you've called this meeting. It can't be any secret that you feel threatened by me, and would like to get rid of me, which is why I'm taking the liberty of uncovering this charade. This attempt to destroy me.”

There was absolute silence in Karl's office. Everyone was standing completely still. The only thing disturbing the silence was the rustling from my blue shoe covers as I turned to inspect the stunned workforce.

“Try to see this as a learning experience,” I went on in a somewhat gentler tone. “If we all go back to our respective duties and never mention this incident again, embarrassing as it is for everyone—if everyone can promise to be open and honest from now on, and never try to play similar tricks on me to unsettle me, then I am prepared to forget the whole business. Simply because I am all too aware that intelligence and talent always upset people of more average abilities. For that reason alone, I am prepared to forgive you. Little people can't always be held accountable for the fact that they sometimes feel drawn to ruin and undermine their betters.”

There was total silence for something like twenty seconds. It was as if no one in the room had properly understood what had happened. I looked at Karl, who just stared back. This time he had met his match. After a while I realized that I was going to have to take charge.

“You can go now,” I said.

One by one they went back to their desks. A breathless procession of subdued employees dispersed around the department.

Karl ran his hand over his thinning hair. He had tiny beads of sweat on his brow. Almost imperceptible. He craned his neck and loosened his tie slightly. I sat down on the comfy armchair opposite him, although it was a bit lower than the office chair he was sitting on. Karl slumped down in his chair. He sat there in silence for a long time, massaging his temples with two fingers on each side. Eventually he sighed.

“How are you feeling, Björn?”

“Fine, thanks,” I said.

He rolled his chair closer to his desk, leaned his elbows on it, and rested his chin on his clasped hands.

“You appreciate that you simply can't behave like this?”

“How so?”

“This sort of performance. It's unacceptable.”

And then once more, as if he thought I hadn't heard him, or simply needed to repeat it to himself:

“Unacceptable.”

“The way I see it,” I said, crossing one leg over the other, “they simply need a strong hand. This sort of collective bullying only arises when people feel lost and—”

“Björn, Björn.”

Karl raised one hand in the air. He leaned toward me.

“I'm in charge here. You do know that, don't you?”

“Yes,” I replied.

I nodded.

“Don't worry about personnel matters, Björn. I can deal with those.”

He leaned back in his chair again. Rubbed his chin with his hand and looked at me.

“Björn,” he said. “You pulled down the Christmas decorations and damaged both the wall and ceiling.”

I nodded.

“That was careless of me.”

“And the fairy lights themselves…well, they're evidently broken now.”

“I shall reimburse you for the damage,” I said. “How much?”

“Well, the wall and ceiling will be all right. It's probably time for them to be redecorated anyway. But the Christmas lights were Jörgen's personal property.”

We sat and looked at each other for a long while without speaking. Finally he leaned forward.

“This…room…” he began.

“I'm glad you raised that,” I said.

He looked out at the open-plan office.

“Where do you say…?”

“Right next to the lift, to the left of the recycling bin, next to the toilets.”

“In the corridor?”

“Correct.”

He sat in silence for a long time, and after a while I began to wonder if he had started to think about something else. In the end he spoke again.

“What sort of room is it?”

“As far I can tell, it's not being used, and hasn't been for some time. I haven't made a mess or touched anything. If anything shady is going on in there, I don't know anything about it. I've just gone there when…”

I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, the correct way to describe what I did there. “To recuperate” sounded feeble somehow, and besides, it was more like I was “recharging my batteries.” I tried a different tack.

“The strange thing is that I've made some calculations. I've measured the surrounding area, and I can't quite make it fit…”

I wondered how much of this I ought to reveal to him. It was beyond question that I was the subject of a comprehensive and well-thought-out prank, and I didn't want to appear stupid. I tried laughing about it.

“Ha, this trick with the walls…I really can't work out how they've done it. In purely architectural terms. Well, it's certainly been very cleverly done…Very cleverly done.”

He looked at me, a whole series of lines on his forehead.

“What do you do there?” Karl asked.

“In the room?” I said.

He nodded.

“After first carrying out a visual check, I usually just…spend time there.”

“But,” Karl said, “what exactly do you do?”

“Nothing,” I said. “But I can appreciate if it upsets—”

Karl interrupted me again.

“Never mind about the others now, Björn. Why do you want to spend time there?”

“I. Well—how can I put it?—I take energy from it.”

He sat in silence for a while, just looking at me.

“Okay,” he suddenly said, leaning forward. “Are you finding it difficult, working here for us?”

I looked at his perspiring temples and wondered who was finding it more difficult. Then I leaned back and said:

“Not particularly.”

“Is there anything you'd like to talk to me about?”

I wondered if I ought to raise the subject of correct linguistic usage, but somehow this didn't feel like the right moment. I decided to give a more sweeping answer that would be bound to arouse his curiosity and throw a wrench in the works:

“There's plenty to talk about with this department.”

“I see,” Karl said. “Such as what?”

“Well. I don't want to mention anyone by name. But I can say that more than one person here at the Authority is a drug user.”

“Drugs?”

“Oh, you didn't know?”

He sat for a moment just looking at me.

“Does that have anything to do with this room?”

“Not in the slightest,” I said.

“Mmm,” Karl muttered, then sighed again.

He stood up and went over to the window, and stood there with his back to me for a while. Drumming his fingers lightly on the glass. He turned round, sat back down, and looked me in the eye. It was as if he was building himself up.

“There is no room, Björn.”

“Yes there is,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Yes, just behind—”

“Listen to me carefully now, Björn. There is no room next to the lift. There has never been a room there. It's possible that you've convinced yourself that there is. Maybe it's there for you, I don't know how that sort of thing works.”

I raised a finger in the air and got him to shut up temporarily.

“If you're going to start—” I began, but he interrupted me immediately.

“That's enough!”

He stood up and came over to where I was sitting.

“Listen to me now, Björn,” he said, in a surprisingly stern voice. “Whether or not there is a room there, I must ask you to stop going to it.”

He waited for a second or two, just looking at me. I realized that for the moment it would be best to keep quiet, but I could feel my whole body wanting to move. The situation was reminiscent of when you've spent a long time sitting in a seat on a plane and just want to stretch your legs. He carried on in a considerably calmer voice.

“You have to appreciate that it upsets the rest of the group when they see you standing like that, in your own little world. It's perfectly all right if you want to do it at home. But not at work. You're scaring the staff. Don't you think you should try socializing with your colleagues a bit more? They say you hardly ever take a break.”

“I have my own routine,” I said.

“But it can be good to take a break every now and then.”

“That's when I go into the room.”

“But you can't go into the room anymore. Okay?”

I looked out through the window, with its surprisingly dull view of a deserted inner courtyard. It was the same snowstorm that had been going on for I don't know how long. The sun hadn't shown its face for several weeks. I met his tired gaze.

“What you're telling me now…” I began, but suddenly felt my voice fail me.

I lost my flow and could hear that I sounded as if I were about to start crying. I cleared my throat and once again shifted position in the chair.

“You have to understand,” I said. “The fact that you're saying there is no room is just as strange to me as if I were to say that that chair isn't there.”

I pointed at his office chair.

“This chair is here,” he said.

“Good,” I said. “At least we agree about that.”

He laughed lightly and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Since the time we agreed to have you working here, things have evidently changed dramatically. I still thought you might be able to cope with the relatively simple tasks you were given. Sorting, archiving, et cetera. We knew you were a complex character, but no one mentioned anything about you being delusional.”

He fell silent for a moment and looked out at the courtyard as well. Just like me.

“You'll just have to stop going to that ‘room.' Otherwise we'll have to come up with a different solution for you. Do you understand me?”

He pointed at my feet.

“And can't you get hold of a pair of indoor shoes? With those silly plastic things it's like you're just asking to be bullied.”

I nodded slowly and looked through the glass at the people working out there. None of them seemed interested in our conversation. Not a glance from any of them. But they must all be aware of what was going on in here. Had they done all their talking about this, about me, already? What else had they agreed on? Karl sighed and went on.

“And I must also ask you to agree to see a psychiatrist.”