In both cities of Slovak archipelago hostile inscriptions, like “CZECHS, GO HOME,” and so on, appear. There are regularly popular demonstrations, enthusiastically recorded by journalists and TV crews from all over the world, against the Czech military presence.
Despite these unstable times, Rácz sets up and registers a commercial trust called Oil Junja. Telgarth dislikes the name, but finally agrees to it. He agrees to anything that Rácz suggests. He also agrees that the few dissidents daring to protest at Telgarth’s decisions will have to be sent to a camp to expiate their guilt by working on the rock lichens.
The Czechs have found themselves in a difficult situation in the Slovak archipelago. From a diplomatic point of view, talking to Emperor Telgarth is out of the question. He stubbornly insists on all Czech troops leaving the territory of the Slovak archipelago. He won’t accept any arguments. Yes, other people signed contracts, but His Imperial Excellency Telgarth I did not. Those people no longer represent the Slovak nation and are no longer in New City. Finally, the Emperor refuses to talk to the Czechs and locks himself in his rooms. A spokesman, whom the Emperor trusts absolutely, Rácz, represents him. He knows how to deal with Czechs. He spent his military service with the Czechs. He was in an artillery regiment, Unit 5963, in Lešany near Prague in 1981–1983. His commander was Major Konečný; the political officer was Major Dürr. Rácz was a model soldier. He had the Czechs sussed: coffee and beer.
Since Oil Junja has now signed strategic contracts with France, Germany, Spain, Italy, China and Japan, the Czechs fear an international row and decide to leave the scene in a huff, but without a fight. The Royal Czech Army and Navy’s departure en masse is the Czechs’ final military operation on Slovak archipelago territory and a indisputable proof of the failure of Czech diplomacy.
Telgarth I gives Rácz the title of prince and stuffs parliament with obedient and stupid fishermen, hunters and reindeer herders to elect him Prime Minister of the Slovak Empire. The new Prime Minister immediately goes north, to oversee personally the final touches before the giant and rich oil fields start up.
Attention, dear reader, this is a decisive moment! Here Freddy Piggybank vanishes not only from our story, but from our life. We will never hear of him again. And so, just as a weekend ends with Sunday dinner, not at midnight, our book pretty well ends here.
What is there to add? Geľo Todor-Lačný-Dolniak’s dream of a peaceful life with his family, relatives, and friends from the hunting settlement of Habovka was only partially, or — to be precise — temporarily fulfilled. At first Geľo stayed at home for a while, hunting, checking his traps, going to meetings in the men’s house with his coævals; sometimes he went to Stormy Tooth to get mineral grease. Recent events have had an impact on his life, too. The north of the New Liptov Island has been settled. As if by the stroke of a magic wand, huge oil fields appeared with thousand of drilling rigs spreading all about as far as the eye could see. There were fewer animals to hunt, and the walrus moved away, too, when huge tankers took over their living space.
One day Geľo came to the sea and the whole shore was black from an oil spill after the first wrecked tanker.
Then he, too, concluded that the old life was finished. So he set out together with his son Juraj, his brothers, Sirovec-Molnár and other men from the coast to find work in the oil fields. There they met only foreign workers, from all over the world. Nobody knew Geľo or his glorious past. The Habovka men got jobs and began work. They were now paid in a new currency introduced by Emperor Telgarth I, vindras. When Geľo became a foreman of his drilling team, his annual pay was 3000 vindras. One vindra was worth two dollars. The Slovak economic miracle was becoming a reality.
The salaries of our Slovaks turned out far higher than their income from selling trapped fox hides; so they stayed there forever and so did their children and their children’s children.
* * *
Dear Tina,
What blinding flash of happiness is it that has suddenly hit me and paralysed me? Why does a man have to go so far away to find himself? Why does suffering have the power to endow a man with new life energy?
Will you be ever able to pardon me for not getting in touch for such a long time? For not being able to perceive anything, to understand anything for so long? I had no idea what you were talking about when you mentioned spiritual growth. My eyes have seen things which I will never be able to tell you about, since you wouldn’t believe me anyway.
My dearest Tina, I’ve been freed and born again. I’ve come back from purgatory. It seems as if everything has acquired new meaning and order. Yes, it will be a me who will win your favour. What sense would all my wealth have without your smile?
Once you told me that you loved the man buried deep inside me. If I understood it all properly, I think the man you spoke about is now out there, liberated. I am as I am. Though I’m still not the kind of man I’d like to be, I no longer fear recognizing the truth. The truth about myself, but also about what I don’t yet know and what I’m only seeking.
I’m not afraid of being weak sometimes, or making mistakes, or even being ridiculous. I used to be sure that I couldn’t win love or keep it by being sincere, that a woman like you needs a strong and successful man before she can love him. I was wrong. Only now I understand everything. You need someone who would be at all times truly genuine.
Yes, yes, I want to be like that! Our life could be beautiful and calm. What a pity that it’s so short. This is what I’m offering you: let’s spend our allotted time together.
I can’t write to you any more. Take me as I am, but also, as I’d like to be. And I’ll respect you, too, because I love you.
If you still feel something for me, come next Friday, at any time, to the Domažlice Room. I will be there from opening time to closing time. If Commodore Kubeš is so dear to you that you won’t come, then I’ll understand and won’t be angry with you. But I want to drop for ever the role of being your cousin. Either — or.
Your Urban
* * *
No, when Urban looks back, he doesn’t feel bitter. He’s met many interesting people. He’s seen many strange lands. He’s undergone and, above all, survived adventures for which anyone else would need at least two lives. He’s lost a lot, but he’s also gained a lot. He finally knows that he’s in love.
After all, it was an excellent adventure, he realises, as he stands by the bar in Domažlice Room on the last Friday of June.
“Would you like another beer with a shot?” a waiter asks.
Urban nods gratefully. He’s tense, not surprisingly, but, given the delicious feeling of running his own life, the outcome is not so very important. The important thing is that Video Urban has taken a decisive step on the road to his goal of being a better person. What he’s undergone will always stay with him.
All right… suppose he’s lost more than he’s gained?
Well, of course, that happens, too.
But you won’t see him crying in any book.