The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared

any revolution, Spanish or otherwise. It would probably only lead to a new revolution, in the opposite direction. On the otherhand, Spain was actually abroad, just like every other country except Sweden, and after having read about countries abroad all his life perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to experience them for real. On the way, they might even meet up with a black man or two.
    When Estebán promised that they would meet at least one black man on the way to Spain, Allan had to say yes. The two friends then discussed more practical matters. In doing so they came to the conclusion that the owner of the foundry was a ‘stupid bastard’ (that was exactly how they put it) and did not deserve their consideration. They decided to wait for that week’s wages and then discreetly disappear.
    So it was that Allan and Estebán got up at five in the morning the following Sunday to depart by bicycle with trailer attached in a southerly direction, leading – eventually – to Spain. On the way, Estebán planned to stop outside the foundry owner’s residence to deliver a complete sample – liquid and solid – of the results of his morning visit to the lavatory in a jug with milk that was placed early every morning at the factory owner’s gate. Estebán had been forced to put up for a long time with being called ‘the ape’ by the factory owner and his two teenage sons.
    ‘Revenge is not a good thing,’ Allan warned him. ‘Revenge is like politics, one thing always leads to another until bad has become worse, and worse has become worst.’
    But Estebán insisted. Just because you had slightly hairy arms and didn’t speak the foundry owner’s language that didn’t make you an ape, did it?
    Allan had to agree, so the two friends arrived at a reasonable compromise. Estebán would limit himself to pissing into the milk.
    That same morning witnesses had sneaked to the foundry-owner that Allan and Estebán had been seen on bikes with trailers on the way towards Katrineholm, or perhaps evenfurther south, so the foundry owner was prepared for the coming week’s immediate decrease in staff. He sat brooding on the veranda of his lavish foundry owner’s villa while he sipped the glass of milk that Sigrid had kindly served him, together with an almond biscuit. The foundry owner’s mood darkened because there seemed to be something wrong with the biscuits. They had a distinct taste of ammonia.
    The foundry owner decided to wait until after church to tell Sigrid off. For the time being, he would drink another glass of milk, hoping to remove the unpleasant taste in his mouth.
    So it was that Allan found himself in Spain. It took them three months to make their way down through Europe, and on the way he got to meet more black men than he ever dreamed of. But after the first one, he lost interest. It turned out that there was no difference other than the colour of their skin, except of course that they spoke weird languages, but the whites did that too, from southern Sweden onwards. Professor Lundborg must have been frightened by a black man when he was a child, thought Allan.
    Allan and his friend Estebán came to a land in chaos. The King had fled to Rome and been replaced by a republic. The Left called for revolución , while the Right was terrified by what had gone on in Stalin’s Russia. Would the same thing happen here?
    For a moment Estebán forgot that his friend was incorrigibly apolitical and tried to drag Allan in the direction of revolution. But Allan stuck to his habit of not getting involved. It seemed all too familiar, and Allan was still unable to understand why everything always had to become the exact opposite of what it was.
    An unsuccessful military coup from the Right was followed by a general strike from the Left. Then there was a general election. The Left won, and the Right got grumpy, or was it the other way around? Allan wasn’t really sure. In the end, there was war.
    Allan was in a foreign country and had no better idea than to follow half a step behind his friend Estebán, who joined the army and was immediately promoted to sergeant when his platoon leader realised that Estebán knew how to blow things up.
    Allan’s friend wore his uniform with pride and looked forward to his first contribution to the war. The platoon was ordered to blow up a couple of bridges in a valley in Aragon, and Estebán’s group was told to deal with the first bridge. Estebán was so exalted by the trust placed