(2)

On a street corner, Karl saw a poster with the following announcement: ‘At the racecourse in Clayton, today from 6 a.m. till midnight, personnel is being hired for the Theatre in Oklahoma! The great Theatre of Oklahoma is calling you! It’s calling you today only! If you miss this opportunity, there will never be another! Anyone thinking of his future, your place is with us! All welcome! Anyone who wants to be an artist, step forward! We are the theatre that has a place for everyone, everyone in his place! If you decide to join us, we congratulate you here and now! But hurry, be sure not to miss the midnight deadline! We shut down at midnight, never to reopen! Accursed be anyone who doesn’t believe us! Clayton here we come!’

There were a lot of people standing in front of the poster, but it didn’t seem to excite much enthusiasm. There were so many posters, no one believed posters any more. And this poster was still more incredible than posters usually are. Above all, it had one great drawback, there wasn’t a single word in it about payment. If it had been at all worth mentioning, then surely the poster would have mentioned it; it wouldn’t have left out the most alluring thing of all. No one wanted to be an artist, but everyone wanted to be paid for his work.

But for Karl there was a great lure in the poster. ‘All welcome’ it said. All, even Karl. Everything he had done up until now would be forgotten, no one would hold it against him. He could turn up for work that was not a disgrace, something for which people were openly invited to apply! And just as open was the promise that he would be taken on as well. He could ask for nothing better, he wanted to begin a proper career at last, and perhaps this was the way. Maybe all the grandiloquence of the poster was just a trick, maybe the great Theatre of Oklahoma was just a little touring circus, but it was taking people on, and that was enough. Karl didn’t read the poster through again, he just looked out the sentence ‘All welcome’ once more.

At first he thought of going to Clayton on foot, but that would have meant a three-hour slog, and he might arrive just in time to hear that all the places had been filled. Admittedly, according to the poster, there was an unlimited number of vacancies to be filled, but vacant position ads always put it like that. Karl realized that he would either have to decide against it on the spot, or take public transport. He counted up his money, without the trip it was enough for eight days, he pushed the little coins around on the palm of his hand. A gentleman who had been watching him patted him on the back and said: ‘All the best for the ride to Clayton.’ Karl nodded silently, and went on calculating. But he decided soon enough, took out the money for the ride, and went to the subway.

When he got out in Clayton, the sound of many trumpets greeted his ears. It was a confused noise, the trumpets weren’t playing in tune, there was just wild playing. But that didn’t bother Karl, rather it confirmed to him what a great enterprise the Theatre of Oklahoma was. But when he left the station and saw the whole racecourse ahead of him, he saw that everything was much bigger than he could possibly have imagined, and he couldn’t understand how an organization could go to such lengths merely for the recruitment of personnel. Outside the entrance to the racecourse was a long low stage, on which a hundred women dressed as angels in white cloths, with great wings on their backs were blowing into golden trumpets. They weren’t standing directly on the stage though, each of them stood on an individual pedestal that couldn’t be seen, because the long billowing robes of the angel costumes completely covered them. As the pedestals were very high, as much as six feet, the figures of the women looked gigantic, only their little heads looked somewhat out of scale, and their hair, which they wore loose, looked too short and almost laughable, hanging between the big wings and down the side of them. To avoid uniformity, pedestals of all different sizes had been used, there were some quite low women, not much above life size, but others next to them seemed to scale such heights that they were surely in danger from every breath of wind. And now all these women were blowing trumpets.

There weren’t many listeners. Small by comparison to their great forms, about a dozen or so youths walked up and down in front of the stage, looking up at the women. They pointed at this one or that one, but didn’t seem to have any intention of joining up or going inside. Only one slightly older man was to be seen, he stood a little to one side. He had brought along his wife and a baby in a pram. The woman held the pram with one hand, with the other she supported herself on the man’s shoulder. They admired the performance, but you could see they were disappointed too. They were probably expecting to find a work opportunity, and were confused by the trumpeting.

It was the same with Karl. He went over to the man, listened to the trumpets a while and said: ‘Is this not the reception point for the Theatre of Oklahoma?’ ‘I thought so too,’ said the man, ‘but we’ve been waiting here for an hour, and have heard nothing but trumpets. There’s not a poster anywhere, no announcers, no one to get any information from.’ Karl said: ‘Perhaps they’re waiting for more people to come. There really aren’t very many here yet.’ ‘Could be,’ said the man, and they were both silent again. It was difficult to conduct a conversation with all the noise of the trumpets. But then the woman whispered something to her husband, he nodded, and she promptly called out to Karl: ‘Couldn’t you go across to the racecourse and ask where the reception takes place?’ ‘Yes,’ said Karl, ‘but that would mean walking right across the stage, through the angels.’ ‘Is that so difficult?’ asked the woman. She thought it was a simple matter for Karl, but was reluctant to let her husband go. ‘Well, all right,’ said Karl, ‘I’ll go.’ ‘That’s very good of you,’ said the woman, and she and her husband shook Karl’s hand. The youths clustered together to watch Karl climbing on to the stage. It felt as though the women blew louder, to welcome the first job applicant. And yet the ones whose pedestals Karl passed on his way actually took their trumpets from their lips, and leaned over to watch him. At the far end of the stage, Karl saw a man walking restlessly back and forth, obviously just waiting for people, to give them all the information they could possibly wish for. Karl was on the point of going over to him, when above him, he heard the sound of his name: ‘Karl,’ called one of the angels. Karl looked up, and was so pleasantly surprised he started to laugh: it was Fanny. ‘Fanny,’ he cried, and waved up at her. ‘Come here!’ called Fanny. ‘Don’t just walk past me.’ And she parted her robes, revealing her pedestal and a narrow flight of steps leading up it. ‘Am I allowed to go up?’ asked Karl. ‘Who’s going to tell me we can’t shake hands with each other,’ cried Fanny, and looked around wrathfully, as if in fact someone with just such a message was coming. Karl ran up the stairs. ‘Not so fast!’ cried Fanny. ‘The pedestal and the pair of us will fall over.’ But they didn’t, Karl successfully reached the last step. ‘Look,’ said Fanny, after they’d greeted one another, ‘see what a good job I’ve got.’ ‘It’s very nice,’ said Karl, looking round. All the women nearby had noticed Karl, and were giggling. ‘You’re almost the tallest of them,’ said Karl, and put out a hand to measure the height of the others. ‘I saw you right away,’ said Fanny, ‘as soon as you came out of the station, but unfortunately I’m in the back row, so you couldn’t see me, and I wasn’t able to call you either. I did try and blow especially loud, but you didn’t spot me.’ ‘You do all play very badly,’ said Karl. ‘Let me have a go.’ ‘Sure,’ said Fanny, and gave him the trumpet, ‘but don’t spoil the chorus, or I’ll lose my job.’ Karl began to play, he had imagined it would be a crude version of a trumpet, really just for making a noise, but it turned out to be an instrument that was capable of almost infinite expression. If all the instruments were like that one, then they were being seriously misused. Undisturbed by the noise of the others all around, Karl played a tune he had heard once in a bar somewhere at the top of his lungs. He was glad to have run into an old friend, to be privileged to play the trumpet in front of everyone, and to be on the verge, possibly, of getting a good job. A lot of the women stopped playing and listened: when he suddenly stopped, barely half the trumpets were in use, and it took a while for the previous volume to return. ‘You’re an artist,’ said Fanny, as Karl handed the trumpet back to her. ‘You should get a job as a trumpeter.’ ‘Do they take men too?’ asked Karl. ‘Yes,’ said Fanny, ‘we play for two hours. Then we are relieved by the men, who are dressed as devils. Half of them are trumpeters, the other half drummers. It’s very nice, just as the whole design is very beautiful. Don’t you like our costumes? What about the wings?’ She looked down her body. ‘Do you think,’ asked Karl, ‘I’ll manage to get a job here too?’ ‘Definitely,’ said Fanny, ‘it’s the greatest theatre in the world. How lucky that we’re going to be together again. Although that depends on what sort of job you get too. Because it’s quite possible that even if we both have jobs here, we might never see each other.’ ‘Is the whole thing really that big?’ Karl asked. ‘It’s the greatest theatre in the world,’ Fanny said again, ‘I have to admit I haven’t seen it myself yet, but some of my colleagues who have been to Oklahoma, say it’s almost boundless.’ ‘There aren’t many people applying,’ said Karl, pointing down at the youths and the little family. ‘That’s true,’ said Fanny. ‘But bear in mind that we recruit in every major city, that our publicity team is continually on the move, and that we are only one of many such teams.’ ‘Has the theatre not opened yet?’ asked Karl. ‘Oh yes,’ said Fanny, ‘it’s an old theatre, but it’s being extended all the time.’ ‘It surprises me,’ Karl said, ‘that there aren’t more people coming in.’ ‘Yes,’ said Fanny, ‘it is strange.’ ‘Could it be,’ said Karl, ‘that the lavish displays with angels and devils put off more people than they attract?’ ‘Hard to say,’ said Fanny. ‘But it’s a possibility. You should tell our leader about it, perhaps you can help him by doing that.’ ‘Where is he?’ asked Karl. ‘In the racecourse,’ said Fanny, ‘in the stewards’ box.’ ‘That’s another thing,’ said Karl, ‘why is the recruiting taking place at a racecourse?’ ‘Well,’ said Fanny, ‘wherever we go, we make the biggest preparations for the biggest demand. There’s so much space in a racecourse. We put our processing offices in the little booths where they usually take bets. There are said to be more than two hundred of them.’ ‘But,’ Karl exclaimed, ‘does the Theatre of Oklahoma have sufficient income to pay for such publicity teams?’ ‘What’s it to us,’ said Fanny. ‘But now, Karl, you’d better go, in case you miss out, and I need to start playing again. Try in any case to get a job on our team, and come back and tell me. Remember I’ll be on tenterhooks.’ She pressed his hand, told him to be careful going down the steps, put the trumpet to her lips again, but didn’t start blowing until she saw that Karl was safely back on the ground. Karl arranged her robes round the steps as they had been before, Fanny thanked him with a nod of her head, and Karl went, pondering all that he had heard in various ways, up to the man who had already seen Karl up with Fanny, and had approached the pedestal to meet him.

‘Do you want to join us?’ asked the man. ‘I’m the team’s head of personnel, and would like to welcome you.’ He stood leaning forward slightly, perhaps out of politeness, swaying on the spot, and playing with his watch chain. ‘Thank you,’ said Karl. ‘I read your company’s poster, and have reported here as asked.’ ‘Quite right,’ said the man, approvingly, ‘unfortunately not everyone behaves as correctly as you do.’ Karl wondered if this might be the moment to let the man know that the inducements of the publicity team, by their very magnificence, might be counter-productive. But he didn’t say anything, because this man wasn’t the head of the team, and besides it wouldn’t have made a good impression if, before he had even been taken on, he started suggesting what improvements might be made. And so he merely said: ‘There’s someone else waiting outside, who wants to report as well and sent me on ahead. Can I go back and get him?’ ‘Of course,’ said the man, ‘the more people the better.’ ‘He has his wife with him, and a baby in a pram. Should they come too?’ ‘Of course,’ said the man, who seemed to be amused by Karl’s doubts. ‘We can use everyone.’ ‘I’ll be back right away,’ said Karl, and ran to the edge of the stage. He waved to the couple and called out that they could all come. He helped lift the pram on to the stage, and they went on together as a group. The youths, seeing that, held a discussion, then, hesitating until the very last moment, they slowly climbed the steps, hands in pockets, and finally followed Karl and the family. Just then more passengers emerged from the underground station, and seeing the stage with the angels, threw up their arms in amazement. It did appear as though the rate of job applications might pick up somewhat. Karl was very glad to have come so early, perhaps the first of all, the couple were anxious and asked various questions about what would be expected of them. Karl said he knew nothing definite as yet, but he had really received the impression that everyone without exception would be taken. He thought one could have confidence.

The head of personnel came to meet them, he was very pleased so many people were coming, he rubbed his hands, greeted everyone individually with a little bow, and put them all in a line. Karl was first, then the couple, and only then everyone else. When they had all lined up, the youths at first barged and shoved each other, and it took a while for them to settle down, then the head of personnel said, as the trumpeters ceased: ‘On behalf of the Theatre of Oklahoma, I’d like to welcome you. You’ve come early’ – actually, it was almost noon – ‘the crush isn’t yet great, and so the formalities of your recruitment will soon be concluded. I trust you all have your legitimation papers on you.’ The youths straightaway pulled some old papers out of their pockets and waved them at the head of personnel, the husband nudged his wife, who pulled a whole bundle of papers from underneath the baby’s coverlet in the pram, only Karl had none. Would that get in the way of his recruitment? It was quite possible. But Karl knew from past experience that, with a little determination, such regulations could be circumvented. The head of personnel looked down the line, to check that everyone had their papers, and as Karl had raised his hand as well, even though it was an empty hand, he took it that he too was provided for. ‘That’s fine,’ said the head of personnel, and waved the youths away, as they pressed to have their papers inspected immediately, ‘the papers will be examined in the reception suites. As you’ve already seen from our posters, we can use everyone. But of course we need to know what an applicant’s previous occupation was, so that we can put him somewhere where his experience will be of use to us.’ But it’s a theatre, Karl thought dubiously, and listened very closely. ‘Therefore,’ continued the head of personnel, ‘we have set up reception suites in the bookmakers’ booths, one office for each type of profession. So I want you all to tell me your previous occupations, families generally go to the office of the man, then I will lead you to your respective offices, where first your papers and then your qualifications will be tested by experts in the field – just a very short test, nothing to be afraid of. Then you’ll be taken on, and will receive further instructions from there. All right, let’s begin. The first office, as the sign will tell you, is for engineers. Do there happen to be any engineers among you?’ Karl stepped forward. It seemed to him, precisely because he had no papers, that he should aim to get through all the formalities as quickly as possible, and he did have a certain justification for stepping forward too, as he had wanted to become an engineer. But when the youths saw him step forward, they became envious, and stepped forward too, every one of them. The head of personnel drew himself up to his full height and said to the youths: ‘You’re all engineers?’ Then they all slowly put their hands down again, while Karl stood his ground. The head of personnel looked at him with some incredulity, because Karl seemed to him both too badly dressed and too young to be an engineer, but he made no comment, perhaps out of gratitude, because Karl, or so it must have seemed to him anyway, had brought along all these applicants. He merely pointed courteously to the office in question, and Karl went there while the head of personnel turned to the others.

In the office for engineers were two men seated at two sides of a right-angled desk, comparing two large inventories they had lying in front of them. One of them read from a list of names, the other ticked them off in his inventory. When Karl stepped in front of them and said hello, they immediately put aside their inventories, and both took out large ledgers, which they clapped open. One of them, obviously just a secretary, said: ‘May I see your legitimation papers.’ ‘I’m afraid I don’t have them with me,’ said Karl. ‘Doesn’t have them,’ said the secretary to the other man, and made a note of it in his ledger. ‘Are you an engineer?’ inquired the other, who seemed to be the head of the office. ‘Not as such,’ said Karl quickly, ‘but –’ ‘All right,’ said the gentleman, even more quickly, ‘then you’ve come to the wrong place. I’d ask you to pay attention to the sign.’ Karl gritted his teeth, the gentleman must have noticed it, because he said: ‘No cause for disquiet. We can use everyone.’ And he beckoned to one of the servants who were going around unoccupied between the barriers: ‘Would you lead this gentleman to the office for people with technical qualifications.’ The servant took the command literally, and took Karl by the hand. They went between many booths, in one of which Karl saw one of the lads, already taken on, thanking the gentleman there with a handshake. In the office where Karl was brought, as he had anticipated, the same thing happened. Only from here, having heard that he’d been to a secondary school, he was taken to the office for former secondary schoolboys. But then, when Karl said he’d been to a secondary school in Europe, they declared this wasn’t the right place either, and had him brought to the office for people who had attended secondary school in Europe. This was a booth on the very periphery, not merely smaller than all the others, but lower too. The servant who brought him there was livid about his long errand, and the many referrals, for which in his opinion Karl bore sole responsibility. He wouldn’t wait for any questions here, but dashed off at once. This office seemed to be the end of the line anyway. When Karl saw the head of the office, he was alarmed by his close resemblance to one of his former teachers, who was probably still teaching at the secondary school back home. The resemblance, however, on closer inspection, turned out to be a matter of details only, but the spectacles perched on the broad nose, the beautifully trimmed blond beard, the gentle curve of the back, and the surprisingly loud voice all kept Karl in amazement for a while yet. Luckily, he didn’t have to pay much attention, because the procedure here was much simpler than in the other offices. Here too, however, they noted that his legitimation papers were missing, and the head of the office referred to it as extraordinarily negligent of him, but the secretary, who had the whip hand here, glossed over it, and after a few short questions from the head, and while he was just gathering himself for a major question, he declared that Karl had been taken on. The head of the office turned to the secretary open-mouthed, but he merely made a dismissive gesture, said: ‘Hired,’ and immediately entered the decision in his ledger. Evidently the secretary was of the opinion that coming from a secondary school in Europe was something so lowly that anyone claiming to fall in that category could be taken at his word. Karl for his part was nothing loath, and went up to him to thank him. But there was one further delay, when he was asked for his name. He didn’t reply right away, he was reluctant to give his real name and have that entered. If he got the smallest job, and was able to perform that satisfactorily, then he would happily divulge his name, but not now, he had kept it secret for too long to betray it now. Therefore, as nothing else came to mind just then, he gave what had been his nickname on his last jobs: ‘Negro.’ ‘Negro?’ asked the boss, turning his head and pulling a face, as though Karl had now reached the height of preposterousness. The secretary too looked at Karl a while, but then he repeated ‘Negro’ and wrote it down. ‘You didn’t write down Negro, did you,’ the boss shouted at him. ‘Yes, Negro,’ said the secretary placidly, and gestured to the boss to conclude the formalities. The boss restrained himself, stood up and said: ‘I hereby proclaim that the Theatre of Oklahoma –’ But he got no further, he couldn’t violate his conscience, sat down, and said: ‘His name is not Negro.’ The secretary raised his eyebrows, got up in turn, and said: ‘I inform you that you have been hired by the Theatre of Oklahoma, and that you will now be presented to our leader.’ A servant was sent for, and Karl was escorted to the stewards’ stand.

Karl saw the pram at the foot of the stairs, and just then the couple came down, the woman carrying the baby in her arms. ‘Have you been taken on?’ asked the man, he was much livelier now than before, and the woman behind him was smiling too. When Karl replied that he had just been, taken on, and was just going to be presented, the man said: ‘Then I congratulate you. We too have just been taken, it seems to be a good company, admittedly it’s hard to know your way around, but then it’s like that everywhere.’ They said ‘Goodbye,’ and Karl climbed up to the stand. He took it slowly, because the little room at the top seemed to be bursting with people, and he didn’t want to barge in. He even stopped and looked over the large racecourse that stretched away in every direction to the distant forests. He felt like seeing a horse race again, he hadn’t had a chance to do that yet in America. In Europe he had been taken along to one as a small child once, but all he could remember of that was how his mother had pulled him through a crowd of people who didn’t want to let him through. In effect, he had never really seen a proper race. He heard some machinery clanking behind him, turned round and watched the mechanism that shows the names of the winners at races now raising the following line into the air: ‘Businessman Kalle with wife and child.’ So that was where the names of the recruits were communicated to the offices.

Just then several gentlemen, engaged in a lively discussion, holding pencils and notebooks, came running down the stairs, Karl pressed himself against the bannister to let them pass, and as there was now room at the top he went on up. In a corner of the wooden-railed platform – it looked like the flat roof of a narrow tower – sat, with his arms spread out along the wooden rails, a gentleman wearing a broad white silk sash that said: Leader of the both Promotional Team of the Theatre of Oklahoma. On a little table next to him was a telephone, that was probably also used in the races, by which the leader could obviously learn all necessary information about each individual applicant before they were presented to him, because he asked Karl no questions to begin with, but merely observed to another gentleman who was leaning next to him, with feet crossed, and his chin cupped in his hand: ‘Negro, a secondary schoolboy from Europe.’ And as though that were all that was required of the deeply bowing Karl, he looked past him down the stairs, to see if there wasn’t anyone else coming along after him. But, as there wasn’t anyone, he occasionally listened in to the conversation the other gentleman was having with Karl, but mainly just looked out over the racetrack and drummed on the railing with his fingers. These delicate and yet sinewy fingers, long and in rapid motion, occasionally distracted Karl, in spite of the fact that the other gentleman was really sufficiently taxing on his own.

‘You’ve been out of work?’ that gentleman began by asking. This question, like almost every other question he put, was very simple, quite straightforward, and Karl’s replies to them were not tested by any follow-up questions, but in spite of that the gentleman, by the way he stared as he asked them, observing their effect with torso leaning forward, taking the answers with head sunk on his chest, and occasionally repeating them aloud, seemed to give them a special significance, which one couldn’t understand, but some sense of which made one awkward and self-conscious. It happened on several occasions that Karl felt like recalling an answer he’d just given and offering another instead which might find more favour, but he always managed to restrain himself, knowing what a bad impression such vacillation must make, and how, anyway, the effect of his replies was generally impossible to gauge. Besides, though, he took considerable comfort from the fact that his acceptance seemed already to have been concluded.

The question whether he had been out of work, he answered with a straightforward ‘Yes.’ ‘Where were you last employed?’ the gentleman then asked. Karl was about to reply, when he lifted his finger and said: ‘I stress: last!’ Karl had understood the original question anyway, and now involuntarily shook his head at this confusing remark, and replied: ‘In an office.’ This was indeed the case, but if the gentleman happened to want to know a little more about the type of office, he would be forced to lie to him. But the gentleman did not do that, and instead asked a question which was very easy to answer truthfully: ‘Were you happy there?’ ‘No,’ cried Karl, almost before he had finished. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Karl noticed that the leader was smiling a little, Karl regretted the impulsiveness of his last reply, but it had been too tempting to shout out that ‘No,’ because during the whole of his last employment, he had been simply longing for some new employer to come along and ask him precisely that question. But his answer could have another drawback too, because the gentleman could now go on to ask him why he hadn’t been happy. Instead, though, he asked: ‘What sort of job do you think would suit you?’ That might be a trick question, because why was it being asked, if Karl had already been taken on as an actor: although he saw that, he still couldn’t bring himself to claim that he felt particularly suited for the profession of acting. And so he avoided the question, and, at the risk of seeming obstinate, he said: ‘I read the poster in the city, and as it said that all were welcome, I came along.’ ‘We know that,’ said the gentleman, and his ensuing silence indicated that he insisted on an answer to his question. ‘I was taken on as an actor,’ Karl said hesitantly, to make it clear to the gentleman how difficult he found this last question. ‘That’s right,’ said the gentleman, and was once more silent. ‘Well,’ said Karl, and all his hopes of having found a job began to shake, ‘I don’t know if I’m right for acting. But I will do my best, and try to do everything I’m asked.’ The gentleman turned to the leader, and they both nodded, Karl seemed to have given a good answer, he plucked up courage again, and awaited the next question, a little more hopefully. That was: ‘What were you originally going to study?’ To narrow the question down – the gentleman seemed at pains to do that – he added: ‘I mean, in Europe.’ At the same time, he took his hand away from his chin, and waved it feebly, as though to indicate at one and the same time the remoteness of Europe and the insignificance of whatever plans might have been made there. Karl said: ‘I wanted to be an engineer.’ The answer went against the grain, it was absurd in the context of his career so far in America to bring out that old chestnut – and would he ever have succeeded, even in Europe? – but it was the only answer he had and for that reason he gave it. The gentleman, though, took it seriously, as he took everything seriously. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we probably can’t make an engineer out of you right away, but maybe it would suit you for the time being to work on some fairly simple technical tasks.’ ‘Certainly,’ said Karl, he was very happy, of course if he accepted the offer it would mean being plucked out of the acting profession, and put with the technical workers, but he really believed he would make a much better fist of that. Anyway, he kept saying to himself, what mattered wasn’t so much the type of work as one’s ability to stick it out, whatever it might be. ‘Are you strong enough for such demanding work?’ asked the gentleman. ‘Oh yes,’ said Karl. Thereupon the gentleman had Karl come up to him, and felt his arm. ‘He’s a strong lad,’ he said, pulling Karl by the arm over to the leader. The leader nodded and smiled, then without getting off the railing, he gave Karl his hand and said: ‘Well, that’s it then. In Oklahoma, we’ll check everything over again. Be sure to be a credit to our publicity team!’ Karl gave a final bow, and he wanted to take leave of the other gentleman too, but he was already walking up and down the platform, looking up, as though completely finished with his task. As Karl climbed down the stairs, next to him the scoreboard was pulled up, and on it the words: ‘Negro, Technical Worker’. As everything had gone so well, Karl wouldn’t have minded too much if it had been his real name up on the board. Everything was very well organized, because at the foot of the stairs, Karl was met by a servant who put an armband round his arm. When Karl lifted his arm to see what was on the band, it was, quite rightly, ‘technical worker’.

Wherever Karl was supposed to be taken next, first he wanted to go and tell Fanny how well everything had gone. But, to his regret, he learned that both the angels and the devils had already left for the next point on the publicity team’s itinerary, to announce the arrival of the whole team the next day. ‘Shame,’ said Karl, and it was the first disappointment he had experienced in this enterprise, ‘there was someone I knew among the angels.’ ‘You’ll see her again in Oklahoma,’ said the servant, ‘now come along please, you’re the last.’ He led Karl along the back of the stage, where the angels had been standing earlier, now there were just their empty pedestals. Karl’s assumption that more applicants might come, now that there was no more music from the angels turned out to be wrong, because there were no grown-ups at all in front of the stage, just a few children fighting over a long white feather that must have come from an angel’s wing. One boy held it up in the air, while the other children tried with one hand to push his head down and reached for the feather with the other.

Karl pointed to the children, but the servant said without looking: ‘Hurry up, it took a very long time before you were taken. I expect they had their doubts?’ ‘I really don’t know,’ said Karl, astonished, but he didn’t think so. Always, even in circumstances that were clear as crystal, someone could be found who liked to alarm his fellow-humans. But at the wonderful sight of the large public enclosure to which they had now come, Karl quickly forgot the servant’s remark. On the stand was a long bench covered with a white cloth, and all those who had been accepted sat on the bench below it, with their backs to the racetrack, and were being catered for. All were excited and in high spirits, just as Karl sat down unnoticed, the last to arrive, on the bench, a number of them stood up with glasses aloft, and someone proposed a toast to the leader of the both publicity team, to whom he referred as ‘The father of all the unemployed everywhere’. Someone pointed out that he could be seen from there, and indeed there was the stewards’ tribune, with the two gentlemen, not too far away at all. Then everyone raised their glasses in that direction, and Karl too picked up the glass in front of him, but however loudly they called and however hard they tried to get their attention, nothing on the stewards’ stand indicated that they had noticed, or more precisely wanted to notice the ovation. The leader was leaning in the corner as before, and the other gentleman stood beside him, cupping his chin in his hand.

A little disappointed, they all sat down again, now and then someone would turn to look at the stewards’ stand, but soon they were quite preoccupied by the plentiful meal, some poultry bigger than any Karl had ever seen, with many forks stuck in their crisply roasted flesh, were carried around, and wine glasses kept being replenished by the servants – one almost didn’t notice it, bending over one’s plate, and a thin stream of red wine fell into one’s glass – and anyone who didn’t care to participate in the general conversation could look at pictures of the Theatre in Oklahoma, which had been piled up at one end of the table, from where they were supposed to be passed from hand to hand. But no very great attention was paid to the pictures, and so it happened that Karl, at the end of the row, got to see only one of them. To go by this one picture, though, they must all have been very well worth seeing. This picture showed the box of the President of the United States. At first sight, one might think it wasn’t a box at all, but the stage, so far did the curved balustrades jut out into empty space. The balustrades were entirely made of gold. In between little pillars that might have been cut out by the minutest scissors, there was a row of portraits of former presidents, one had a strikingly straight nose, thickish lips and stubbornly lowered eyes under bulging lids. The box was brightly lit from all sides and from above; white and yet somehow mild light laid bare the front of the box, whereas its recesses, deepening pleats of red velvet falling full length and swagged by cords, were a darkly glimmering void. It was hardly possible to imagine people in this box, so sumptuously self-sufficient did it look. Karl didn’t forget to eat, but he often looked at the picture too, having put it next to his plate.

He would have liked very much to see at least one of the other pictures, but didn’t want to fetch it himself because a servant had his hand on the stack of them, and some sequence had to be kept to, so instead he just turned to look down the table and see if there might not be a picture on its way to him. Then to his astonishment – at first he couldn’t believe it – among those faces bent furthest over their plates he saw one that was very familiar to him – Giacomo. He ran over to him at once. ‘Giacomo,’ he called. He, shy as he always was when taken by surprise, got up from his plate, turned round in the little space between the benches, wiped his mouth with his hands, and was finally very glad to see Karl, asked him to sit with him, or offered to go over to Karl’s place, they wanted to tell each other everything, and stay together for always. Karl didn’t want to bother the others, so each of them agreed to stay in his place for now, the meal would soon be over, and then they would never be parted. But Karl stayed close to Giacomo, just to watch him. What memories of past times! Where was the Head Cook? What was Therese doing? Giacomo’s appearance had hardly changed at all, the Head Cook’s prediction that within six months he would turn into a raw-boned American hadn’t come to pass, he was just as delicate as ever, hollow-cheeked as ever, although at the moment his cheeks were bulging, because he had a huge piece of meat in his mouth, from which he was slowly pulling out the superfluous bones and throwing them on to his plate. As Karl saw from his armband, Giacomo had not been taken on as an actor, but as a lift-boy, the Theatre of Oklahoma really did, it seemed, have use for everyone.

Lost looking at Giacomo, Karl had stayed away from his place far too long, he was just about to go back to it, when the head of personnel came along, stood on one of the higher benches, clapped his hands, and gave a little speech, for which the majority stood, and those who remained seated, unable to tear themselves away from their food, were finally compelled to stand too by nudges from the others. ‘I hope’, he said, Karl had tiptoed back to his place, ‘you were happy with your welcome dinner. In general, the food for our publicity team is held in high regard. Unfortunately I have to bring the meal to a speedy conclusion, because the train that will take you to Oklahoma is leaving in five minutes. It’s a long journey, but as you’ll see, you will be well looked after. Let me present to you the gentleman who will be responsible for transporting you, and whom you must obey.’ A skinny little gentleman clambered up on to the same bench as the head of personnel, barely found time for a perfunctory bow, but began right away by indicating with gestures of his nervous hands how he wanted everyone to assemble, get in line and start moving. But for a time no one did any of this, because the same individual who had proposed a toast earlier now banged on the table with his hand and embarked on a lengthy vote of thanks, even though – Karl was getting quite agitated – it had just been announced that their train would be leaving shortly. But the speaker, not even seeming to care that the head of personnel wasn’t listening, he was giving the transport organizer some instructions, was now well into his speech, he listed all the dishes that had been served, gave his verdicts on each of them, and concluded with the cry: ‘And that, gentleman, is the way to our hearts.’ Everyone laughed, except those he had addressed, but there was more truth than humour in his remarks.

The comeuppance for the speech was that they now needed to run to the station. That wasn’t very difficult, though, for – Karl only noticed it now – no one had any luggage – really the only luggage was the pram, which, pushed along by the father at the head of the column, bounced wildly up and down. Suspicious, unpropertied people had assembled here, and had been so well received and looked after! And the head of transport in particular was so involved. At one moment he was helping to push the pram with one hand, while raising the other to exhort the recruits, at the next he was behind the last of the stragglers, driving them on, the next he was running down the flanks, fixing some of the slower ones in the middle with his eye, and by waving his arm, demonstrating to them how they should be running.

When they reached the station, the train was already standing there. The people in the station pointed to the group, called out such things as: ‘They all belong to the Theatre of Oklahoma,’ the theatre seemed to be far better known than Karl had supposed, although of course he’d never been at all interested in theatrical matters previously. A whole carriage had been reserved for the group, the head of transport was more assiduous than the conductor in urging them in. First he looked into each compartment, arranging a thing or two here and there, and only then did he climb in himself. Karl had managed to get a window seat, and pulled Giacomo in next to him. So they sat pressed together, and both were really looking forward to the trip, they had yet to travel in such a carefree manner in America. When the train began to move, they put their hands out of the window to wave, at which the youths opposite dug each other in the ribs and found it stupid.

They rode for two days and two nights. Only now did Karl begin to grasp the size of America. He looked out of the window tirelessly, and Giacomo craned towards it with him, until the youths opposite, more interested in playing cards, had had enough, and gave him the window seat opposite. Karl thanked them – Giacomo’s English wasn’t comprehensible to everyone – and as time passed, as happens with people sharing a compartment, they became much friendlier, though their friendliness often took trying forms, for instance each time they dropped a card and looked for it on the floor, they pinched Karl or Giacomo in the leg as hard as they could. Giacomo would cry out, and pull his legs up, Karl sometimes tried to reply with a kick, but otherwise bore it in silence. Everything that happened in the little smoke-filled compartment – even though the windows were open – paled into insignificance compared to what was outside.

On the first day they travelled over a high mountain range. Blue-black formations of rock approached the train in sharp wedges, they leaned out of the window and tried in vain to see their peaks, narrow dark cloven valleys opened, with a finger they traced the direction in which they disappeared, broad mountain streams came rushing like great waves on their hilly courses, and, pushing thousands of little foaming wavelets ahead of them, they plunged under the bridges over which the train passed, so close that the chill breath of them made their faces shudder.