[Sunday, 28-1-2018 (Cancer): The end is near. The worst is behind you. It's time to repay debts. You are on an upward spiral.]
After a night like last night, nobody is in a good shape for the upcoming final. Breakfast consists of lots of coffee, and an aspirin sandwich for everyone.
Shirley insists we concentrate on the mental task that should get us on our way, the enigma that the Tarot presented us half an hour ago. Nobody has any idea.
The first card was clear: the Pope or Hierophant. It's the spiritual teacher who gives advice. That can't be anyone else but The Chef. I objected it should have been the Tarot-card of the Popess because women are known to be better teachers, but Shirley explained that the Popess stands for wisdom and logic, while the Pope stands for religion and belief, for the negative light and oppression. The Pope fits the story of Jeremiah, who told us that The Chef is responsible for humanity's religious belief of «more is better», of «twice the size is double fun», of the religion of Economy, promising happy-meal heaven on Earth. Most mass murderers are white and male. Shirley's wisdom and logic show why the Pope represents The Chef.
The problems were the arms and hands of the Maltese cross, the Tarot cards that indicate the direction in which we need to search. I wrote them on the wall, so everyone can see them:
Four of batons (blessing)
Temperance (elegance, grace)
The Emperor (the Lord of the Rings)
The Queen of cups (there she is again, empathy and family)
The Ace of cups (birth of something new)
The Empress (the mother)
The Devil (the sinner, we've met him before)
Death
That final card bothers me most of all. This is too big for us. Death is always the end of everyone's story. I've turned the Ace of Spades five times in a row. "The end is near", says my horoscope for today. The end isn't the problem; it's nobody having a clue where to start…
Frans Waltz is not only the oldest but also the most experienced in overcoming hangovers: "We should go to Klagenfurt. There's an amusement park we should visit. The problem is the transport. We'll need a bus. We're fifteen old folks, seven sisters, Nurse Shirley, plus Doctor Watson. Klagenfurt is 40 kilometres from here."
The triplets immediately complain: "A bus? Only old people take excursions by bus. I want a limousine." - "Don't shout so loud, Resi. I'm suffering from a headache." - "Can't we just call a taxi?" - "As long as you don't call too loud, everything is fine with me."
I shake my head: "We've had too much entertainment already. There's work to do. Today, it's the end of the world, and only we can stop it."
"Today is Sunday." - "I have to take a nap." - "We've been working all week." - "We need our day off." - "We don't even have time to go to church today."
Frans doesn't understand all that criticism: "Don't you understand it? It's a European enigma. Where does the pope live? In Vatican City. Who's the Emperor? Napoleon, who built the Arc de Triomphe. The Queen of Cups might be the Queen of Bloody Mary, a famous ship, used as a restaurant now. The Devil might refer to the castle of Dracula in Transylvania. The blessing might have something to do with the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. We're talking about the end of the WORLD here, people. Where do you find the entire world together, at 40 kilometres from here? All we need is transport to get there…"
Shirley knows Kärnten. She knows what Frans means: "Minimundus, the attraction park in Klagenfurt where we can find the entire world together. It's worth a try. We need transport to get there…"
I object: "Do you think the end of the world is a game? Would a criminal as heavy as The Chef lower himself to destroy little models of famous buildings?"
Shirley and Frans don't doubt: "If we don't go there, we'll never know."
"And if we go there and we're wrong, we're too late to do what we need to do. I refuse to run around like a headless chicken. We have Internet, we have maps, and we have eight clues on the wall. Let's see if we can find a reasonable connection."
With all the spiPhones available, finding the Minimundus map with all its information takes less time than waiting for the bus. Headaches and sore throats have disappeared since the group has something to do; productivity works better than aspirin: "Taj Mahal is a tomb. It can represent the card of Death." - "The card of Blessing might stand for one of the several churches there." - "There is no castle of Dracula at Minimundus. The card of the Devil doesn't fit." - "The Empress stands for Sisi's Belvedere Castle? I find that hard to believe." - "The card of Temperance doesn't fit with any of the statues." - "The Devil neither." - "And what reference is there to the Queen of Cups?" - "Half of our clues can't be found there." - "It looks like Doctor Watson was right." - "It's useless to go there. It's January, and the park doesn't open before the 1st of May…"
Shirley has the last word: "At first, I thought Minimundus might be the place we're looking for, but… The Tarot also contains the World card, which would be the perfect indicator to lead us to Minimundus, but it remained in the stack… We have to think of something else."
"Queen Mary wasn't just a ship.", Resi says.
"She's also the Mother of God.", Sanni says.
"It's Sunday. We can go to church and ask her for advice.", Traudi says.
"Mothers always know what to do.", Resi says.
"We don't even need transport.", Sanni says.
"We can ask her right here.", Traudi says.
And then the miracle happens. It's not a miracle that everybody falls quiet. It's not a miracle that, without anyone telling them, everybody bows her head, folds her hands, and speaks the same words, all together: Austria is a Christian country; they've learnt those words at school when they were young. The miracle is that I read the words on the wall, and they fit perfectly with the spoken call for help that solemnly fills the Twilight Zone:
"Hail Mary (blessing)
» Full of Grace (temperance)
» The Lord is with thee (Emperor)
» Blessed are you among women (empathy)
» And blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus (birth)
» Holy Mary, Mother of God, (the Mother)
» Pray for us, sinners (the Devil)
» Now and in the hour of our death (Death)
» Amen…"
"It's a prayer. The Tarot indicates a prayer. We have to find Queen Mary…", I whisper.
Frans jumps up: "We'll need transport. We'll need a bus, or a taxi, or a limousine."
I don't understand: "But… I thought she lived 2.000 years ago, and way back from here, in a land where people destroy the world every day."
Shirley has the knowledge I lack: "Yes, she did, but in 1360, someone found her statue on Monte Santo di Lussari, so they built a new house for her, 1.790 metres high, on the crossroads between Catholic Italy, Protestant Germany and the Islamic Balkans. Maria Lussari was, and still is, one of the most visited pilgrimages in the world."
Finally, I'm a believer: "Rostov! We'll need transport. We'll need a bus, or a taxi, or a limousine."
The triplets interrupt me: "We can't." - "It's impossible." - "Don't you read the newspapers?" - "Don't you watch the news?" - "Don't you follow the latest gossip?" - "That rain that fell earlier this week?" - "At 1790 metres high, it's snow." - "And all that snow caused a massive avalanche." - "Every access to Maria Lussari is closed." - "Unless you can fly, there's no way to get there." - "We can take the pigs, give them wings and tell them to fly up there." - "Send Heidi and Peter to heaven? You have to be joking. We like them too much to kill them."
I don't believe all that gossip. I want facts. With my spiPhone, I call the Maria Lussari hotline: "If you want to be united in holy matrimony, press one and say «I do». If your confessions are interesting enough for WikiLeaks, press two and go ahead. If you have sinned, but not interesting enough for the tabloids, press three and keep it short. If you want to speak with someone on the other side, press four and keep enough coins at hand for loooong-distance conversation."
Then I call the police in Arnoldstein. They confirm that no traffic is possible up or down the mountain. The ski lift came down with the avalanche. When I have relatives who are still up there, I better pray for them and hope there's enough holy bread to keep them alive until next summer.
Frans leaves the room and returns with a map of Kärnten: "We are here. Monte Maria Lussari is there. There is one way to get there, but…"
"But what?"
"It's quite impossible. And it's extremely dangerous too."
Shirley stands up, looks at him, serious, confident, brave: "Frans… How long do we know each other? Impossible is nothing. I'm not afraid of any danger. And most important: if nobody will do this, it's the end of the world before this day is over. I'll go."
I stand up too, put my hand on Shirley's shoulder and say: "And I'll go with you. I'll follow you to the end of the world, Shirley. You'll need someone to cover your back."
The triplets, the seven sisters, and all the old folks of Twilight Zone stand up too: "We all go. If the end of the world is near, we don't want to miss it for the world. We thought we'd seen everything there was in life, but this might be an entirely new sensation."
Frans shakes his head: "We can't all go. I only have two, and they're quite old too. I'm not sure if they still work."
He points at the map, at the other side of Villach, at a mountain, called Gerlitzen: "In the old days, when I was young, I went up here, with my friends and our paragliders. We jumped off the top of this hill. But that was in summer, when the wind wasn't fierce and the weather was hot. The paraglider only had to take us over here, to the landing field next to the Ossiacher See. I've never flown from Gerlitzen all the way over the valley to Maria Lussari, but in theory, and with the help of a little electro rotor at the back, it might be possible. Like Monte Lussari, the Gerlitzen is covered with snow, but the lift to the ski area still works. You'll have to walk the last stage to the cliff at the top, the Stairway to Heaven, as we used to call it. I'm not sure if it can be done, but at least we have a chance, two chances, for two people, who aren't only brave, but also small and light."
Shirley and I drag Frans to the door: "What are you waiting for? Let's get those paragliders."
* * *
With two huge backpacks, we enter the cabin of the lift that takes us to the restaurant halfway. From there, the seat in an open ski lift already gives me the creeps, looking down between my shoes into the depths.
"Don't look down. Look up.", Shirley suggests: "We're going there. Do you see that path? That's the Stairway to Heaven. You should never think about what can happen when everything goes wrong. You should think positive and focus on what you want to achieve."
"Wishful thinking. Visualising the success will increase your chances of getting it. Act as if it's impossible to fail. But it's my job to make the impossible possible, so…"
"Look at where we're going. Did you ever see anything more beautiful than this? This view takes your breath away."
This cold takes my breath away. Our ski suits keep us warm, and they keep the cold wind out, but that cold wind does strike my face with thousands of icy needles.
Our last stage, the climb by foot, is heavy but not long. We've done worse things this week. We're also lucky with the weather: there's hardly any wind when we unpack the backpacks and prepare our gliders. The difficult part is the jump. Once you're in the air, it's a matter of steering and finding the currents that keep you on the right track. The jump is the moment when you're on your own, and you can't afford to make even the smallest mistake. But first, you put the paraglider on the ground, on the heavy snow carpet, spread it out, connect the ends of all the ropes to your harness. Then you wait. When there's just the right amount of wind, not too much and not too little, you lift the glider like a giant kite, run forward to the cliff and… jump.
In theory, flying is easy: you jump into the air (any fool can do that), and then you stay there. Doing it is much more difficult.
"Are you sure you can do this, Shirley?"
"Don't you worry about me. I do things like this all the time. Are you sure you can do this?"
"I have no choice. We have two chances to get there… there… … … That's the Monte Maria Lussari, right? It's good to visualise where you're going to. I'm ready. How are you?"
"Do you start the electric rotor before you jump or after?", Shirley asks.
"I'm not sure. We forgot to ask. It's better to start it before we jump. It might be complicated to do it when we're in the air."
We try the rotors. They have a handle to regulate the speed and it's easy to handle. We start them, put ourselves in position and…
"Shall I go first? Or do we jump together?", I ask.
"One by one. You go first. When you're about a minute away, you make a full circle to the right. By that time, I'll be on your left beside you. Don't worry. We can do this. Lots of people do this all the time. It's fun. You'll see."
I don't see a lot when I make the run, and I even close my eyes when I make the jump, but only for a second because I have to see what happens, what goes wrong, why I go up like a led zeppelin. Where is that handle to control the rotor? How does the paraglider react when I pull the ropes? Is it one minute already? I can't take my spiPhone out of my inner pocket to watch the stopwatch. I'm far away from the mountain and the trees. Should I make the turn now? I pull the ropes with my right hand, to see what happens. Everything happens at once. A strong wind pushes me away, my turn brings me down, my rotor starts making strange sounds, and I don't see Shirley anywhere.
"Shirley!"
There she is. She jumped right behind me, but makes a turn to the left.
"Shirley! What are you doing?!"
"I dropped my handbag. Don't worry. You go ahead. I'll be back."
She's going the other way. I can't see her anymore. This paraglider doesn't have mirrors to look behind you. I'm on an upward spiral. Suddenly, I feel alone up here. The view is a spectacular 3D Christmas card: all those white mountains with little villages, the lake below, and Maria Lussari waiting for me ahead. I think about the mission that brought me here, the mission to support #3, The Diplomat, who's doing his job at the European Refugee Conference. I did absolutely nothing here, not for The Diplomat, and not for those refugees. I'm probably the worst spy in history. Perhaps it's better like this. Frans thought that making this jump and doing this flight would be dangerous. Entering that church and facing The Chef is what really bothers me. It's better if I do that alone. I'm armed. Shirley isn't. I'm trained for this. Shirley isn't. I'm prepared to save the world or die in the attempt. Shirley is the reason why I want to save this world. I want her to be safe, I want those refugees to be safe, and I want the world to be safe. Lovely. I'm on my way to making it happen. It's my job. It was me who turned the Ace of Spades. I'd better do this alone. My rotor is spinning like a cat at top speed. I have the wind in the back. When this wind blows, I can feel Shirley through the weather, and even now we're apart, it feels like we're together. We're a team. I'm not alone. I'm almost there. Just a short flight and a smooth landing keep me from the end of this mission, the end of my life, or the end of the world. I'd better do this alone.
The landing is a piece of cake. I kill the rotor and take the harness off. Twenty-five steps separate me from the entrance of the church, a big heavy oak, standing wide open.
I take my Makarov in my right hand.
I take a deep breath.
It's time to repay debts.
It's the moment to enter the stage.
Ladies and gents, turn up your sound systems, ghetto people from the Refugee Gang, and fall in love with the sound of angels, crying about the rich who are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer.
The one who makes us cry is up there.
Down here is the one who makes us laugh.
I look up into the sky, hoping for days in paradise.
Twenty-five steps.
My Stairway to Heaven.
Closer to heaven than this, I've never been.
I'm not afraid.
I'm ready.
I'm going in.