The man in the long black cloak hadn’t changed in the least. But today he wore a thin bal-collar overcoat well suited for New York City. He wore a black jacket with black slacks beneath it, complemented by a white shirt and crimson tie that gave him an elegant and composed air.
As he approached, the Count suddenly asked, “Did you find the picture you wanted?” It was as if he already knew why Jörg had come to New York City. Like always, he was quick to see how the future would unfold.
“Yes,” Jörg answered. “Since we’re both here, how about we have a coffee in that café over there?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Upon entering the café, the Count grimaced at the bright light pouring in through the large windows.
“Would you prefer somewhere less bright?”
“Does the light not bother you?”
“Sunlight doesn’t trouble me yet. But in a couple hundred more years it might. Let’s go to the back.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
They ordered coffees from the waiter, and before their drinks arrived, Jörg opened the package and showed the Count the picture.
The Count admired it, adding, “The Razing of Freedom and Spirit?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you sure it’s appropriate that you own it? Don’t you think something like this should be out in human society? It looks like the war in Vietnam won’t end anytime soon but will continue to wreak its horrors.”
“This is archived in a famous art book. And the artists who saw it when they were young started to create paintings with similar themes in their own unique styles. The value of this image will carry on into the next generation. So I figured it was time that I acquired it.”
“I see.”
“I’ll take good care of it.” Jörg ran a loving finger over the picture. “It will always remind me of someone I’ll never meet again.”
The Count sipped his coffee and continued. “How is Lila—sorry, Angelika?”
“She’s already in her late fifties, but as tough and spritely as ever.”
“How did she do during the war?”
“She resisted society in her way. With her personality, she was never going to suffer in silence.”
“She joined the resistance against Germany?”
“Yes. Too many times what she did made me break into a cold sweat. I helped a little, too.”
“She even survived the Warsaw Uprising. It wasn’t just soldiers; a lot of civilians were executed then, too.”
“True. At the time I couldn’t say anything to her, having been born and raised in Germany. For a long time I felt like I couldn’t show myself in front of her. I thought about turning myself invisible to protect her that way, but she wouldn’t have it. She told me that was the worst way possible to avoid issues and that I shouldn’t look away from reality, regardless of whether I was directly involved or not. Because what happened there could happen anywhere in the world.”
“That sounds like something she would say.”
“It really does. She always called me her friend and said that people and nations are different.”
“I see…”
“She finally let me conceal myself once she got married. I couldn’t be around her all the time with a husband in the house.”
“That was a good idea. Bodyguards should stay hidden.”
Jörg smiled. “Back then, Xandra’s inn was a kind of safehouse to Lila. That place let her rest her soul, and it’s the reason why she was able to go back to the human world. Fritz was saved through his art, while Lila was saved through her life at the inn. It was the same for me. With a place that provides sanctuary and rest, people can someday return to the real world. But when Lila returned to human society, she felt frustrated right from the start.”
“How do you mean, frustrated?”
“Without a simulacrum, she couldn’t move around instantly, and everything took a lot of time. She would often complain that her body felt heavy. But that heaviness was also a kind of proof that she was human, so it made her happy, too.”
Jörg’s gaze flickered through the window to the bright world outside, then continued.
“And in a couple of decades Lila is going to be called peacefully up to heaven. That’s so soon. And with that, my job as her bodyguard will also end.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She was a teacher during the war, but now she’s working as an editor at a children’s book publisher. The libraries in Warsaw have a lot of books she edited. She even got her pilot’s license. She can probably fly better than I can now.”
“What do you plan on doing once she has passed? That’s actually why I’m here.”
“Are you going to ask me to come back to Xandra’s inn?”
“If you’d like.”
“I can’t go back there.”
“Why not?”
“There are still things I want to do.”
“Like what?”
“Lila once told me, ‘The winds of war don’t distinguish between adults and children. They turn everyone into monsters.’ And she’s right. It can happen easily at any time in human society. So I want to be someone who intervenes to stop that. I want to point out the narrow-mindedness of foolish societies and move people out of the path of those horrible winds. Only a monster can do that, right? Only someone who will live until the end of time.”
“That’s not a monster’s responsibility. That’s a fantasy.”
“What are monsters but a fantasy? It’s just like books and fairy tales. At least from the perspective of those who stay near people.”
“But humans will at some point cause their own extinction. It’s practically fated. Their meaningless existence is beyond saving. And only a fool would spend their time on something like that.”
“I have nothing but time. I’m not going to rush anything; kind of like solving a difficult puzzle.”
The Count looked seriously at Jörg. “If that’s your ultimate answer to the ancient blood you inherited, it’s a sad way to live.”
“I’m enjoying myself, so don’t worry about me. I think it’s a passion-filled life worthy of this ancient blood.”
The Count said nothing for a while. He looked as if he was trying to remember the most important word in the world and had grown frustrated at his failure. But he eventually said nothing more than “We should get going” and stood up from his chair.
The two walked away from the table and left the café. The Count said, “Feel free to contact me about anything. You’re welcome at the inn anytime.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“And the door for refugees. Would you like us to keep it?”
“Please. I have a feeling the world will still need it for a while.”
“Understood.”
The Count waved and turned, spreading out his wings like a giant dragon or bat, and soared off into the sky. The mass of people crossing the busy Manhattan streets didn’t see him. Only Jörg saw him fly away.
Jörg squinted, eyes still on the sky.
The Count flew as beautifully as ever. Strong enough to overcome anything.
The black figure soon melted into the gray clouds. The border between sky and ground was a place where neither God nor human would ever wander.
Jörg turned his gaze back to the ground.
He readjusted his hold on Fritz’s drawing and briskly stepped forward, toward the future and its infinite possibilities.