Amerika (34 page)

There wasn't much of an audience. Looking quite small compared to these large figures, some ten youths walked back and forth in front of the platform, gazing up at the women. They pointed at one or the other; however, they seemed to have no intention of walking in and seeking admission. One could see only one older man, who stood somewhat aside from the others. He had already brought along his wife and a child in a baby carriage. With one hand his wife held on to the carriage and with the other leaned on her husband's shoulder. Though they marveled at the spectacle, one could see that they were disappointed. They too must have expected that there would be an opportunity for them to find employment, but this trumpet-blowing merely left them confused.

Karl's situation was no different. He approached the man, listened for a moment to the trumpets, and said: “Is this the admissions office for the Theater of Oklahama?” “I thought so too,” said the man, “but we've been waiting for an hour and have only heard those trumpets. There's no poster, no announcer, no one who can give us any information.” Karl said: “Perhaps they're waiting until some more people come. There are still very few people.” “That's possible,” said the man, and they fell silent. With the noise from the trumpets it was difficult to hear anything. But just then the wife whispered something to her husband; he nodded, and she called out to Karl at once: “Couldn't you go over to the racetrack and ask where people are admitted?” “Yes,” said Karl, “but I'd have to walk across the platform, straight through the angels.” “Why would that be so difficult?” the woman asked. She believed that Karl could easily make his way there but was unwilling to send her own husband. “Well, all right,” said Karl, “I shall go.” “You're most obliging,” said the woman, and both she and her husband shook Karl by the hand. The youths ran over to get a closer look at Karl as he climbed onto the platform. It sounded as if the women were blowing their trumpets more loudly to greet the first job applicant. But those whose pedestals Karl passed actually lowered the trumpets from their lips and leaned over to observe his progress. At the other end of the platform Karl saw a man walk up and down quite restlessly, obviously awaiting new arrivals so as to give them all the information they could possibly desire. Karl wanted to approach him but then heard someone above call out his name. “Karl,” an angel cried. Karl looked up and began to laugh in delighted surprise; it was Fanny. “Fanny,” he cried, greeting her with a wave. “Do come up,” cried Fanny, “surely you're not going to walk right past me.” And she flung aside her robe, exposing the pedestal and the narrow steps leading to the top. “Is one allowed to go up?” Karl asked. “Who would forbid us to shake hands,” cried Fanny, casting an angry glance around to see whether anyone was coming to forbid them from doing so. Karl was already running up the steps. “Slow down,” cried Fanny, “or the pedestal will fall over, with the two of us.” But nothing of the sort occurred; Karl reached the last step safely. “See,” said Fanny, after they had exchanged greetings, “see what a great job I have here.” “It's certainly beautiful,” said Karl, looking about him. All of the women close by had already noticed Karl and were giggling. “You're nearly the tallest,” said Karl, stretching out his hand to gauge the height of the other angels. “I saw you at once,” said Fanny, “as you came out of the station, but unfortunately I'm in the last row, it's impossible to see me here, and I couldn't call out to you. I blew especially loudly, but you didn't recognize me.” “All of you play the trumpet so poorly,” said Karl. “Give me a chance to play.” “Why, of course,” said Fanny, handing him the trumpet, “but don't spoil the chorus, or I'll be dismissed.” Karl began to play; he had imagined it was a crudely made instrument, only for making noise, but it was in fact an instrument capable of producing almost every refinement. If all the other instruments were of this quality, they were being greatly misused. Ignoring the noise from the others, Karl inhaled deeply and played with all his breath a tune he had once heard in a bar somewhere. He was happy to have met an old friend, to be let play the trumpet, which at least gave him a chance of obtaining a good position here. Many of the women stopped playing and listened to him; when he broke off all of a sudden, scarcely half of the trumpets were being played, and it took a while for the noise to build up to its full strength again. “You're an artist,” said Fanny, as Karl returned her trumpet. “Try to get taken on as a trumpeter.” “They take on men too,” asked Karl. “Yes,” said Fanny, “we play the trumpets for two hours. And then our places are taken by men dressed as devils. Half blow the trumpet, the others beat on the drums. It's very beautiful, all very elaborate, as is the whole staging. Aren't our dresses very beautiful too? And what about the wings?” She glanced down at herself. “Well,” Karl asked, “do you think even I could get a job here?” “Why, of course,” said Fanny. “After all, it's the largest theater in the world. It's so wonderful we'll be together again. But that depends on what kind of job you get. You see, even if both of us are employed here, we might not manage to see each other.” “Is the entire outfit really that big?” Karl asked. “It's the largest theater in the world,” Fanny repeated. “Though I've never seen it myself, some of my co-workers who've already been to Oklahama say it's almost limitless.” “But there aren't many joining,” said Karl, pointing down at the youths and the little family. “That's true,” said Fanny. “But remember that we're taking on people in every city, that our recruiting troupe is always out traveling, and that there are many more such troupes.” “Has the theater not opened yet?” Karl asked. “Oh yes,” said Fanny, “it's an old theater, but it's being expanded all the time.” “It is surprising,” said Karl, “that there isn't more of a crush.” “Yes,” said Fanny, “that is very odd.” “Well,” said Karl, “this extravagant use of angels and devils may frighten off more people than it attracts.” “How can you tell,” said Fanny. “But that is possible. Do tell our leader, maybe you can help him this way.” “Where is he?” Karl asked. “On the racetrack,” said Fanny, “up on the judges' stand.” “That's also surprising,” said Karl, “why do people get admitted on the racetrack?” “Well,” said Fanny, “wherever we go, we prepare everything for the largest possible crowds. And of course, there's a great deal of space on the racetrack. And the admissions offices are set up in all of the stands where the bets are usually placed. There must be two hundred different offices.” “But,” cried Karl, “does the Theater of Oklahama take in so much money that it can afford to support recruiting troupes like this?” “Why should we have to worry about that,” said Fanny, “but do get going, Karl, so you don't miss anything; besides, I have to start playing again. Do your best to get a position with this troupe, and come back at once to let me know. Remember I'll be anxiously waiting to hear from you.” She squeezed his hand, warned him to be careful climbing down, and put the trumpet to her lips again, but did not begin to play until she could see that Karl had reached the ground safely. Karl drew her robes back over the steps, just as he had found them; Fanny thanked him with a nod, and then, reflecting from various points of view on what he had just heard, Karl went toward the man, who had already seen Karl up beside Fanny and had walked over to the pedestal to wait for him.

“You want to join us?” the man asked. “I'm the personnel manager for this troupe, and I'd like to welcome you.” He leaned forward slightly, as if out of politeness, and minced about, yet without moving from the spot and toying all the while with his watch chain. “Thank you,” said Karl, “I've read your company's poster and am getting in touch as requested.” “You've done the right thing,” the man said appreciatively, “unfortunately, there are some people here who don't always do the right thing.” Karl considered telling the man that if the recruiting methods were not particularly successful, it was because of their very splendor. But he did not say so, for this man wasn't the troupe leader, and since he himself still hadn't actually been taken on, he would hardly make a good impression if he started suggesting improvements right away. So he merely said: “There's someone else waiting outside who wants to sign up and has sent me ahead to ask. May I go and get him?” “Of course,” said the man, “the more the better.” “He's got a woman with him too, and a little child in a carriage. Should they come too?” “Of course,” the man said, appearing to smile at the doubt that Karl had expressed. “We can make use of everyone.” “I'll be right back,” said Karl, and ran to the edge of the platform. He waved to the couple and cried that they could all come. He helped to lift the baby carriage onto the platform and they went on together. Seeing this, the youths conferred with one another, then slowly, hesitating until the last moment, they climbed onto the platform, hands still stuck in their pockets, and only then followed Karl and the family. At that moment new passengers emerged from the subway station who, on seeing the platform with the angels, raised their arms in astonishment. It did seem as if the application process was about to liven up. Karl was very pleased to have arrived so early, maybe even first; the married couple was anxious and asked several times how demanding the work was. Karl said that though he knew nothing for sure, he had really received the impression that every single person would be taken on. They could, he thought, be very confident.

The personnel manager was already approaching; very satisfied to see that so many were coming, he rubbed his hands, greeted each one with a little bow, then made them line up. Karl came first, then the married couple, and finally, the others. Once everyone had lined up—the youths milled about confusedly at first, and it took a while for them to calm down—the personnel manager said, as the trumpets fell silent: “I'm greeting you on behalf of the Theater of Oklahama. You've come early (though it was almost noon) and since there are no crowds here yet, the formalities of your admission can be taken care of right away. You do, of course, have all of your identification papers with you.” The youths quickly took some papers from their pockets and waved them at the personnel manager; the husband nudged his wife, who drew a bundle of papers from the feather bed in the baby carriage; Karl, however, had none. Might this hinder his admission? It wasn't inconceivable. From experience, however, Karl knew that one could with a little determination easily get around such regulations. The personnel manager inspected the line, making sure everyone had papers, and since Karl too raised his hand, empty though it was, the manager assumed that he too had his papers in order. “That's fine,” the personnel manager said, waving aside the youths who wanted to have their papers examined at once, “your papers will be inspected at the admission offices. As you'll have noticed from our poster, we can make use of everyone. But we have to know the prior occupation of each individual so that he can be assigned to the right position, where he can make use of his expertise.” Of course, this is a theater, Karl thought skeptically, and listened very attentively. “We've set up admissions offices in the betting booths,” the personnel manager continued, “one office for each occupational category. So each of you should let me know his occupation; as a general rule, families should report to the husband's admission office, and afterward I shall take you to the offices where your papers will be vetted by experts, who will then ascertain what you know—it'll only be a very short exam, there's no need for anyone to be afraid. You'll be admitted at once and will then receive further instructions. So let's get started. As the sign indicates, this first office is meant for engineers. Perhaps there's an engineer among you?” Karl raised his hand. He thought that precisely since he had no papers he should try to complete all the formalities as quickly as possible; besides, he did have a certain justification for raising his hand, for he had in fact once wanted to become an engineer. However, on seeing Karl raise his hand, the youths grew jealous and each raised his hand. The personnel manager rose to his full height and said to the youths: “You are engineers?” Whereupon all lowered their hands slowly; Karl, however, stood by his initial statement. The personnel manager looked at him skeptically, for he considered Karl too miserably dressed and too young to be an engineer, but he said nothing further, perhaps out of gratitude, since Karl had, at least in his opinion, brought in the other applicants. He merely beckoned enticingly toward the office, and Karl went toward it as the personnel manager turned around to the others.

In the office for engineers two gentlemen sat on either side of a rectangular desk, comparing two large ledgers that lay before them. One read aloud as the other marked the names called out by his colleague. When Karl appeared before them and greeted them, they put away the ledgers quickly and picked up some other large books, which they opened. One of them, evidently only a clerk, said: “I should like to see your identity papers.” “Unfortunately, I don't have them with me,” said Karl. “He doesn't have them with him,” the clerk said to the other gentleman, who promptly entered Karl's response in his book. “You're an engineer?” asked the other man, who seemed to be the chief office manager. “Not yet,” Karl said quickly, “but—” “That's quite enough,” said the gentleman, speaking even more quickly, “then you don't belong here. I would ask that you heed the signs.” Karl clenched his teeth; the gentleman must have noticed, for he said: “There's no need to worry. We can make use of everyone.” And he waved to a servant who was wandering idly between the barriers: “Take this gentleman to the office for people with technical skills.” Interpreting the order literally, the servant took Karl by the hand. They walked between numerous booths, in one of which Karl saw one of the youths, who had already been admitted and now shook hands gratefully with the gentlemen. In the office into which Karl was now taken, the procedure was, as Karl had foreseen, similar to that in the first office. However, on hearing that he had attended middle school, they sent him to the office for former middle school students. But once in that office, when Karl said that he had attended a European middle school, they declared that they were not responsible for such cases and requested that he be taken to the office for former European middle school students. It was a booth at the outermost edge, only smaller and even lower than all of the others. The servant who had taken him there was furious about the lengthy detour and the numerous rejections, which he blamed entirely on Karl. This time he did not even wait for the questioning and ran off at once. This office might indeed be his last refuge. When Karl saw the office manager, he was almost startled by the resemblance between this man and a teacher who was probably still teaching at his vocational school at home. Although, as instantly became clear, the resemblance was limited to a few specific traits, Karl was nonetheless bewildered by the glasses resting on the broad nose, the full blond beard immaculately kempt as if it were a showpiece, the gently stooped back, and the loud voice, which always burst out unexpectedly. Fortunately, he did not even have to be particularly attentive, for the procedure here was simpler than in the other offices. But here too they wrote down that his identification papers were missing, which the office manager called an instance of incomprehensible negligence, and which the clerk, who had the upper hand here, quickly disregarded; just after the manager asked a few short questions and was preparing to ask a more elaborate one, the clerk announced that Karl had been admitted. With his mouth wide open, the manager turned toward the clerk; however, the latter waved his hand conclusively, said, “Admitted,” and entered the decision quickly in the ledger. The clerk evidently thought that merely being a European middle school student was something so shameful that anyone making such a claim could be taken at his word. Karl in turn raised no objection and approached the man to thank him. But there was yet another little delay while they requested his name. He did not answer at once; he had qualms about giving his real name and letting them write it down. Once he had obtained even the most minor position here and carried out the work in a satisfactory manner, they could find out about his name, but not now, for he had kept it secret so long that he could not disclose it yet. And so, unable to come up with a name on the spot, he simply gave them the nickname from his last few positions: “Negro.” “Negro?” the manager asked, turning his head and grimacing, as if Karl had attained the height of implausibility. The clerk too scrutinized Karl for a moment, but then repeated, “Negro,” and wrote down the name. “But you didn't write down Negro,” the manager snapped. “Yes, Negro,” the clerk said calmly, waving his hand as though the manager should see to the rest. Overcoming his reluctance, the manager rose and said: “So the Theater of Oklahama has—” But he got no further, for unable to quell his scruples, he sat down and said: “His name isn't Negro.” The clerk raised his eyebrows, then rose and said: “In that case I'll announce that you've been admitted by the theater in Oklahama and are about to be introduced to our leader.” Again a servant was summoned, who led Karl to the judges' stand.