ecieci
15th June 2011, 02:00 AM
I am floating down slowly like a feather, taking in the situation below me. I am apparently going towards a small town in the west of Germany, with approximately 300,000 inhabitants, the Higher Up told me before. Among these 300,000, I have to find out my target. Not an easy task.
The town is neatly arranged with a single nucleus that is the city centre, where the historical Cathedral, traditional market and shopping centers are, and some sort of business area around the nucleus, then clusters of residential areas around the perimetre. In the further south lies former government buildings and abandoned ambassador villas, long past their glory from when the town was the capital of the country.
I float over the Rhein river that split the town into two, connected only with a few suspension bridges and regular ferries. Higher Up told me that the other side of the river, Beuel, is not worth visiting. It is only residential area with a few churches, the happening part is only the main town on this side of the river, the proper Bonn.
Poppelsdorfer Allee 197, that is the address that Higher Up shouted before kicking me down through the clouds. Higher didn’t say whether that’s my target’s address or someone connected to it. In any case, that is my only clue. So there I went.
It is apparently an upper class residential area at the city centre, with rows of colourful art deco historical buildings that I imagine used to be part of a castle in the 17th-18th century and are now converted into apartments. I take in the detailed carvings on the buildings‘ facade, the stretch of park in the middle of the road, the towering oak trees and a cupboard in the middle of the park that contains books free to be loaned by the town residents, and immediately fall in love with the neighbourhood. If my target lives here, I will be able to hang around this nice neighbourhood for a while. I’m crossing my fingers.
Number 197 is one of the art deco building converted into 4 apartments; the ground floor, first floor and the top floor. Each apartment occupy about 140m2 floor area. Not bad, very spacious in fact. There is a basement that I imagine serves as storage space for the building residents. Due to the building historical construction, there is no garage. However the residents have private carparks in the neighbourhood. The front door is very heavy big carved oak door, probably cut from the very oak trees lining up the park in front of the building. Next to it is the mailboxes of the residents; a Lang, a Schönfeld, a Müller and a Sasmita.
Sasmita, that is not German name. Perhaps I will start with this resident to find out where my target is. I float through the door into a neat common foyer, and check out the name on the apartment door on the ground floor. Müller. So I float through the concrete floor up to the first level, and again check the name on the door before me. Lang. I repeat the same on the second floor. Schönfeld. OK, so this Sasmita lives in the attic.
The attic has lower ceiling that the previous floors below, and the walls were pitched to the centre of the roof, creating a sense of smaller space, despite the same floor area. I suspect the rent is slightly cheaper here. On the door hangs a simple, non-descript name plate where ‚Sasmita‘ written on it. Here is my man. I float through the door into a simple but cosy living room with a fluffy big beige carpet covering the dark wooden floor. A set of white couches set at the corner of the living room, and a 46“ flat screen TV perched on top of a wooden TV bank. Rows and rows of DVDs lined up on the shelves on both sides of the TV, and blu ray player and a cable TV box sit in the bank. On the pitched ceiling, hangs a big white beamer, that according to my colleagues who were on earth before me, used to project movies just like in the cinemas. The screen to which movie from the beamer is projected is rolled up on the ceiling above the TV. Hmm, this Sasmita guy is surely an entertainment buff.
I floated to the next room. It is apparently a study, with one side of the wall is covered in books from top to bottom, and next to the classic art deco window is a simple wooden table and a laptop. In front of the laptop there is someone sitting, furiously typing on it. This must be him. I take a closer look.
Oh la, la. ‚He‘ turns out to be a very lovely young woman. She has thick, black long straight hair and gorgeous big black eyes with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. Her red, plump lips are tightly shut but I can imagine how many guys fantasize kissing them everyday. I think she is in her early 30s, and from her looks I’m sure she’s either from Indonesia or the Philippines. How do I know? Well I know an awful lot.
Suddenly she jerks up and looks around. I can see the hair at the back of her neck stands. „Hello?“ She asks the air. Then she looks down the window and shakes her head.
It’s no surprise, I sometimes create that effects around human. If they are sensitive enough they could feel my presence pretty well, although they are not able to actually point out what or where I actually am. I move slightly further than the lovely Sasmita lady to calm her down, but only after I take a peek on her laptop. She is apparently writing a report. ‚Investment Proposal Audit in Deutsche Krone Portugal‘ it says. ‚by Sarah Sasmita‘. Sarah, what a lovely name so fitting to a lovely lady.
Sarah is rushing. The report shall be out by mid next week, because her boss, the cosignee of the report is going on vacation for 3 weeks from Wednesday onwards, and he needs to approve it before he goes. She is now stuck in the management summary, the most important part. The Executive Board only reads the management summary so it has to be top notch. It is Saturday afternoon and the weather outside is so beautiful, but Sarah is so used to spending beautiful weekends imprisoned alone in her attic apartment to finish her work.
A funny feeling creeps through the back of her neck, like there is somebody looking over her shoulder. She jerks up and looks around. „Hello?“ she calls noone in particular. The apartment is empty and the window in the study is shut. She looks down the window and shakes her head.
Probably just my paranoia, she thought. Having been living alone for more than a decade, she is no stranger to funny feelings that sometime creep into her. But this time is different. It feels very real. She shrugs. More than 30 years living had taught her that anything that cannot be seen in this world most probably doesn’t exist anyway. Perhaps she’s just tired. She opens the window, takes out a pack of Marlboro Lights, and puffs her smoke like a queen.
Uh oh, our lovely lady is a workaholic AND a smoker. No wonder I thought first the occupant is a male. Nothing in her style is ladylike, she’s now wearing a pair of checkered men boxer shorts, probably a leftover from a past lover, and a wifebeater shirt. Such a contrast from her pretty and demure looks.
Her phone suddenly bleeps. She glances half heartedly at it, and upon knowing the caller, turns her head away from the phone and peacefully resumes her smoking by the window. A few joggers pass by on the park below. She flicks smoke ashes towards their direction.
OK, so she’s a workaholic, a smoker AND a mean girl. Is she really the key to my target? Maybe I should check out the other residents. I float down to the floor below, the Schönfeld, and arrive at a messy living room. Children toys are everywhere, and I can hear children noise from the next room. This for sure is not my target. So continue floating down to the first floor, the Lang. I was greeted by a pair of Labrador’s eyes.
„Grrrr…“ the large Labrador immediately squares in on the mysterious visitor and takes a fighting stand.
Hmm, the Labrador sees me. Not strange knowing dogs much stronger frequencies than human. I need to be friendly with him, otherwise he will start barking mad. So I twirl and move around, making funny dance.
The Labrador tilts his head, then twirl around and around, ending up chasing his tail.
I float to a corner.
Then the Labrador suddenly stops twirling and jumps right to the corner of the room.
Then I smoothly float up to the ceiling.
The Labrador desperately tries to climb up the wall to reach the ceiling, shouting and crying frustratedly at his failure to do so.
„Andy!“ a child’s voice comes out from the other room, and a 10 year old boy with red freckles appears.
I’m stunned. The dog’s name is Andy?? ANDY ??? Geez, what's wrong with Fluffy or Skippy or even Hachiko?
„What are you doing?“ asks the boy. The Labrador noisily barks at the ceiling and sometimes turn to his master, trying to convey the information that he possesses. „What’s wrong Andy? Something wrong with the ceiling?“
„Woof! Woooooooff!! Wooooooooffff!!!“ the Labrador wails.
The boy looks up the ceiling and his eyes directly meet mine. He pauses for a second, seemed transfixed by me or whatever it is that he perceives he sees. Then he shakes his head.
„Come on, Andy.“ He pulls the dog away. „There’s nothing there.“ The Labrador still persistently barks at the ceiling for a while, until he finally gives up and follows his master. Before leaving the living room, the boy looks back at the ceiling once more time, then looks away.
The boy sees me. That’s what I realise immediately. Or at least, he feels my presence. I should move to another floor, it is not convenient if living creatures keep tab of what I am doing.
***
The town is neatly arranged with a single nucleus that is the city centre, where the historical Cathedral, traditional market and shopping centers are, and some sort of business area around the nucleus, then clusters of residential areas around the perimetre. In the further south lies former government buildings and abandoned ambassador villas, long past their glory from when the town was the capital of the country.
I float over the Rhein river that split the town into two, connected only with a few suspension bridges and regular ferries. Higher Up told me that the other side of the river, Beuel, is not worth visiting. It is only residential area with a few churches, the happening part is only the main town on this side of the river, the proper Bonn.
Poppelsdorfer Allee 197, that is the address that Higher Up shouted before kicking me down through the clouds. Higher didn’t say whether that’s my target’s address or someone connected to it. In any case, that is my only clue. So there I went.
It is apparently an upper class residential area at the city centre, with rows of colourful art deco historical buildings that I imagine used to be part of a castle in the 17th-18th century and are now converted into apartments. I take in the detailed carvings on the buildings‘ facade, the stretch of park in the middle of the road, the towering oak trees and a cupboard in the middle of the park that contains books free to be loaned by the town residents, and immediately fall in love with the neighbourhood. If my target lives here, I will be able to hang around this nice neighbourhood for a while. I’m crossing my fingers.
Number 197 is one of the art deco building converted into 4 apartments; the ground floor, first floor and the top floor. Each apartment occupy about 140m2 floor area. Not bad, very spacious in fact. There is a basement that I imagine serves as storage space for the building residents. Due to the building historical construction, there is no garage. However the residents have private carparks in the neighbourhood. The front door is very heavy big carved oak door, probably cut from the very oak trees lining up the park in front of the building. Next to it is the mailboxes of the residents; a Lang, a Schönfeld, a Müller and a Sasmita.
Sasmita, that is not German name. Perhaps I will start with this resident to find out where my target is. I float through the door into a neat common foyer, and check out the name on the apartment door on the ground floor. Müller. So I float through the concrete floor up to the first level, and again check the name on the door before me. Lang. I repeat the same on the second floor. Schönfeld. OK, so this Sasmita lives in the attic.
The attic has lower ceiling that the previous floors below, and the walls were pitched to the centre of the roof, creating a sense of smaller space, despite the same floor area. I suspect the rent is slightly cheaper here. On the door hangs a simple, non-descript name plate where ‚Sasmita‘ written on it. Here is my man. I float through the door into a simple but cosy living room with a fluffy big beige carpet covering the dark wooden floor. A set of white couches set at the corner of the living room, and a 46“ flat screen TV perched on top of a wooden TV bank. Rows and rows of DVDs lined up on the shelves on both sides of the TV, and blu ray player and a cable TV box sit in the bank. On the pitched ceiling, hangs a big white beamer, that according to my colleagues who were on earth before me, used to project movies just like in the cinemas. The screen to which movie from the beamer is projected is rolled up on the ceiling above the TV. Hmm, this Sasmita guy is surely an entertainment buff.
I floated to the next room. It is apparently a study, with one side of the wall is covered in books from top to bottom, and next to the classic art deco window is a simple wooden table and a laptop. In front of the laptop there is someone sitting, furiously typing on it. This must be him. I take a closer look.
Oh la, la. ‚He‘ turns out to be a very lovely young woman. She has thick, black long straight hair and gorgeous big black eyes with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. Her red, plump lips are tightly shut but I can imagine how many guys fantasize kissing them everyday. I think she is in her early 30s, and from her looks I’m sure she’s either from Indonesia or the Philippines. How do I know? Well I know an awful lot.
Suddenly she jerks up and looks around. I can see the hair at the back of her neck stands. „Hello?“ She asks the air. Then she looks down the window and shakes her head.
It’s no surprise, I sometimes create that effects around human. If they are sensitive enough they could feel my presence pretty well, although they are not able to actually point out what or where I actually am. I move slightly further than the lovely Sasmita lady to calm her down, but only after I take a peek on her laptop. She is apparently writing a report. ‚Investment Proposal Audit in Deutsche Krone Portugal‘ it says. ‚by Sarah Sasmita‘. Sarah, what a lovely name so fitting to a lovely lady.
Sarah is rushing. The report shall be out by mid next week, because her boss, the cosignee of the report is going on vacation for 3 weeks from Wednesday onwards, and he needs to approve it before he goes. She is now stuck in the management summary, the most important part. The Executive Board only reads the management summary so it has to be top notch. It is Saturday afternoon and the weather outside is so beautiful, but Sarah is so used to spending beautiful weekends imprisoned alone in her attic apartment to finish her work.
A funny feeling creeps through the back of her neck, like there is somebody looking over her shoulder. She jerks up and looks around. „Hello?“ she calls noone in particular. The apartment is empty and the window in the study is shut. She looks down the window and shakes her head.
Probably just my paranoia, she thought. Having been living alone for more than a decade, she is no stranger to funny feelings that sometime creep into her. But this time is different. It feels very real. She shrugs. More than 30 years living had taught her that anything that cannot be seen in this world most probably doesn’t exist anyway. Perhaps she’s just tired. She opens the window, takes out a pack of Marlboro Lights, and puffs her smoke like a queen.
Uh oh, our lovely lady is a workaholic AND a smoker. No wonder I thought first the occupant is a male. Nothing in her style is ladylike, she’s now wearing a pair of checkered men boxer shorts, probably a leftover from a past lover, and a wifebeater shirt. Such a contrast from her pretty and demure looks.
Her phone suddenly bleeps. She glances half heartedly at it, and upon knowing the caller, turns her head away from the phone and peacefully resumes her smoking by the window. A few joggers pass by on the park below. She flicks smoke ashes towards their direction.
OK, so she’s a workaholic, a smoker AND a mean girl. Is she really the key to my target? Maybe I should check out the other residents. I float down to the floor below, the Schönfeld, and arrive at a messy living room. Children toys are everywhere, and I can hear children noise from the next room. This for sure is not my target. So continue floating down to the first floor, the Lang. I was greeted by a pair of Labrador’s eyes.
„Grrrr…“ the large Labrador immediately squares in on the mysterious visitor and takes a fighting stand.
Hmm, the Labrador sees me. Not strange knowing dogs much stronger frequencies than human. I need to be friendly with him, otherwise he will start barking mad. So I twirl and move around, making funny dance.
The Labrador tilts his head, then twirl around and around, ending up chasing his tail.
I float to a corner.
Then the Labrador suddenly stops twirling and jumps right to the corner of the room.
Then I smoothly float up to the ceiling.
The Labrador desperately tries to climb up the wall to reach the ceiling, shouting and crying frustratedly at his failure to do so.
„Andy!“ a child’s voice comes out from the other room, and a 10 year old boy with red freckles appears.
I’m stunned. The dog’s name is Andy?? ANDY ??? Geez, what's wrong with Fluffy or Skippy or even Hachiko?
„What are you doing?“ asks the boy. The Labrador noisily barks at the ceiling and sometimes turn to his master, trying to convey the information that he possesses. „What’s wrong Andy? Something wrong with the ceiling?“
„Woof! Woooooooff!! Wooooooooffff!!!“ the Labrador wails.
The boy looks up the ceiling and his eyes directly meet mine. He pauses for a second, seemed transfixed by me or whatever it is that he perceives he sees. Then he shakes his head.
„Come on, Andy.“ He pulls the dog away. „There’s nothing there.“ The Labrador still persistently barks at the ceiling for a while, until he finally gives up and follows his master. Before leaving the living room, the boy looks back at the ceiling once more time, then looks away.
The boy sees me. That’s what I realise immediately. Or at least, he feels my presence. I should move to another floor, it is not convenient if living creatures keep tab of what I am doing.
***