When the Place Is a Map, and the Map Is a Maze
This is the story of a journalist who travels to an Eastern European country for a TV doc, but goes down a rabbit hole and lands in his past. Or was the obscure country a place of his mind, too?
The 3-part novelette builds on the theme of the invisible hero, which is here a forgotten memory, a buried sense of identity. The geographical places, Bucharest and Berlin, become places of the mind and, although the saying goes “the map is not the place”, in this story the place actually becomes a map.
Read to find out where the map is guiding the protagonist.
When the Place Is a Map, and the Map Is a Maze
So this is Peter Schild, reporting on Romania. Strange country. Even Swiss Air goes wrong there, I can’t exactly figure out how this is possible. But flight trouble is bound to come up when flying to or from there.
I was so tired and fed up at the check-in, that when the guys told me the tickets were no good, I couldn’t make anything of their words. They had to explain to me that Swiss Air had no flight to Bucharest for that day, and that I had to take the plane to Belgrade. I asked how come I had a ticket and a flight number for a plane that did not exist – but here they replied it was not the plane that did not exist, but the destination.
When the Place Is a Map, and the Map Is a Maze (2)
The immediate eye-catcher though was a tree arching over half the room. An amazing green Gestalt.
Under this tree, which one felt like reaching out to touch and check out if it was real, a few tiny round tables for two.
We sat down. You found yourself inevitably very close to your companion and an unhomely – unheimlich – uncanny air of privacy set in. Mona placed her elbows on the table, shoulders arched and bent forward to me, eyes sparkling with excitement.
When the Place Is a Map, and the Map Is a Maze (3)
The taxi ride back to the Intercontinental – wordless, except for Mona’s quick exchanges with the driver.
She eyes me at times with something that looks like worry. But I know I’m a tough guy, I’ve been through worse.
Although – never fell down a rabbit hole before.
The wandering reporter, Mona had called me.
I am the reporter, I am the story-teller, I am the walrus, goo-goo g'joob –
Enough.
