Eternal Life Read Online Free Page B

all. Nemec, he recognized this Day One and just had to rub Brenner’s nose right in it:
    “Concentrate instead of ruminate, Brenner!”
    Because that was Nemec’s answer when Brenner asked him if he could take a professional development course. Maybe it’s not that wise, either, when you’ve got a new boss, to ask for professional development on the guy’s very first day, since it’s going to mean at least two days out of the office. Brenner must’ve been thinking of that just now when he realized he hadn’t wrote a single word, even though he’d been staring at his table for an hour already.
    Such a small filigree table, I mean, all you had to do was look at it, and it’d wobble. And you couldn’t imagine anyone using it for anything but looking at. Brenner, though. To him, this sort of thing didn’t matter. He had been typing up his reports here, week in, week out, for six months.
    His grandfather back in Puntigam had been a carpenter. A thing like this he never would’ve called a table. Brenner still had two cabinets that his grandfather built. Nice, slim walnut units that’d been there in his parents’ apartment since before he came into this world.
    And ever since his parents died, Brenner had them in his apartment. Because he didn’t have any siblings, and they fit in good with his government-subsidized apartment. Well, civil service apartment, since only civil servants live there—cheap rent, let me tell you. And now, of course,Brenner was afraid he’d have to move out since he quit the police.
    And then something happened that surprised him. Because up till now he still hadn’t heard anything—no written notice, nothing. And instead of finally writing his report, he thinks now: Probably has to do with his old school chum Schwaighofer. Basically, it went something like this:
    When Brenner put in a request for an apartment as in-demand as this one was five years ago, he was in for a surprise. At first he didn’t recognize him, because, bald and twenty years since he’d seen him, but his old classmate Schwaighofer recognized him right away. He was the office manager there and responsible for the allocation of the apartments. At first it was uncomfortable for Brenner, awkward, you know, because what do you talk about with a person when the last time you saw him was twenty years ago. And, even back then, they didn’t really talk all that much. Brenner had always been a bit of a closed book, you can’t forget. I don’t want to say stubborn, but shut off all the time. And Schwaighofer, too, never anything remarkable, that guy.
    It didn’t stay uncomfortable for long, though, because, as a bachelor, he’d be put on a wait-list—yes, they’ve got waitlists for these—years!—don’t even ask. Then, three months later, he’s moving in, and goes without saying, his classmate Schwaighofer had made the arrangements. That’s the way we do it over here. The same everywhere.
    And now, because he hadn’t heard anything in six months from the Civil Service Housing Authority, i.e. Schwaighofer, Brenner was slowly starting to get his hopesup. That possibly his classmate Schwaighofer was behind it, and there’d been some oversight—on purpose, I mean, computer or whatnot—about Brenner having to move out.
    That’s neither here nor there. But for Brenner, things weren’t exactly going any different. He’s sitting in his hot room and he’s supposed to be thinking about work, but instead he’s thinking about his apartment. And hear me out, what I’m about to tell you now. Coincidence it was not, because—coincidence, well, there’s no such thing, it’s been proved.
    Instead of the report now, Brenner must’ve been thinking about that one time he took his co-worker Anni Bichler back to his apartment. Anni, that was one of the two secretaries in his department, but the prettier one. This was a good five years ago that he took Anni home with him, because he’d just moved into his civil service