Tersake straightened the second chair.
Not because he was expecting visitors. He never did that. He straightened chairs because crooked chairs raised questions and questions generally led to forms.
Upstairs it was right again.
Knock. Knock.
Not harder.
Well closer.
Tersake looked at the ceiling. As far as he knew, the tower had no top floor. He had determined this himself, measured it and noted it down in triplicate.
Downstairs: one table, two chairs and coffee.
Above: nothing.
That was also on the construction drawing.
He grabbed his briefcase and walked to the stairs.
The stairs had not been there yesterday.
He thought that was inappropriate.
On the first step was a small copper plate:
UP
Only for those who left something behind.
Tersake checked his pockets.
Keys. Pencil. Measuring tape. A form without a destination.
He had left nothing behind.
he thought.
Halfway up the stairs he smelled coffee. Not the cold coffee from downstairs, but fresh. As if someone upstairs already knew he was on his way.
The stairs ended at a door.
No number. No latch. Only a keyhole at eye level.
Tersake looked through it.
On the other side he was sitting at the table.
Not approximately.
Not someone who looked like him.
Tersake.
The same jacket. The same briefcase. The same way he rested his index finger on the table when he was trying to understand why something wasn't going according to the rules.
Opposite him was an empty chair.
Then there was a knock.
Not on the door.
From the room.
“Tersake?”
“Who are you?”
There was silence for a moment.
Then the man on the other side pushed his briefcase aside.
'Notsnol.'
'That's not a name.'
'That's what you said last time too.'
Tersake felt in his pocket for the form without a destination. There was something on it now.
REPORT OF A MEETING THAT HAS YET TO TAKE PLACE
Name of attendee: Tersake.
Name of absentee: Notsnol.
Location: the room above the top floor.
Goal: homecoming.
“I've never been here before,” Tersake said.
Notsnol nodded.
“That's why you keep coming back.”
The door opened by itself.
The room was smaller than it had seemed through the keyhole. There was only one table. Two chairs. A coffee pot. A map of the tower hung on the wall.
There was no exit on the map.
A red cross.
Exactly where Tersake stood.
“You wanted to go to Foolish Town,” said Notsnol.
“That's right.”
“Why?”
Tersake opened his mouth.
For the first time there was no answer.
He looked at the coffee. To the second chair. To his own face opposite him.
“I think I wanted to get to the point.”
Notsnol poured two cups.
'Then you went wrong.'
'Where was I supposed to go?'
'Going home.'
Tersake looked at the map.
“That's not on the map.”
“No,” said Notsnol. “You were never there.”
The light went out at the bottom of the tower.
Upstairs it was morning.
And for the first time in anyone's memory, Tersake closed his briefcase.
Notsnol pushed him a cup of coffee.
“Welcome home.”
Outside, a small house appeared on the map of Sursirai that was not there yesterday.
No one knew who built it.
Only Kwartsoog looked at it, nodded happily and wrote one word next to it in pencil:
Tersake.
Below that, a little smaller:
Finally.