The Dinosaur Feather

called.
    Hey, what was this? He pulled out a thick volume and discovered a beaker with a toothbrush and a disposable razor behind it. He removed more books and his eyes widened. Shaving foam, shampoo, a bottle of shaving balm, a cheap plastic comb, stacks of clean underwear, socks rolled up inpairs, three pairs of jeans folded double. When he searched the other shelves, he found personal items behind every book. More clothes, more toiletries, four novels, a stamp collection, a blanket, a torch, an old-fashioned Walkman and a bag of audio books, including
Lord of the Rings
.
    When Søren had checked everything, he replaced the books and once again the office became bland and impersonal. Behind the door he discovered a fold-out bed, without its mattress. Weird. Søren looked inside the bin, but it was empty. Then he caught sight of a card sticking out between two books. He pulled it out. It was a colourful postcard from Malaysia, the handwriting was sloped and childish.
Malaysia is great, but the food very spicy. Will be home soon. Cheers, Asger
. A postcard from a friend. He glanced at his watch, then he scribbled down his telephone number on a piece of paper and put it on Dr Tybjerg’s keyboard. He left the office with one clear goal: to find Tybjerg. He heard Fjeldberg’s footsteps in the corridor.
    On their way back to civilisation, Søren tried to quiz Professor Fjeldberg about Dr Tybjerg, but it proved to be difficult.
    ‘He’s good,’ Fjeldberg kept stressing. ‘Very good. Plenty of publications, a visionary. But not terribly well-liked.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘He’s rather eccentric,’ Fjeldberg said, bluntly. ‘But then again, who isn’t around here?’
    ‘Can you be more specific?’ Søren pressed him. Fjeldberg thought about it.
    ‘Erik Tybjerg has been associated with this museum since he was fourteen years old. I first heard about him througha friend, who worked with his foster father, and I contacted him at the start of the 1980s. Tybjerg has a photographic memory and he knows everything there is to know about birds. I tasked him with reviewing the collection, and he organised and arranged the whole lot and has been maintaining it ever since. He knows every bone fragment and every feather in every drawer. He graduated as a biologist, but though he has been a fixture in this place for the last twenty-five years, I don’t really know him. We’ve worked together on several occasions, most recently in connection with a feather exhibition currently on public display upstairs. You must have experienced this yourself: some people you just can’t get close to. Dr Tybjerg is one such person. He always talks about his subject in an odd, rather chanting manner, and he works non-stop. My wife will tell you that I work far too much, you have to in this business, the competition is very stiff. But I’m a slacker compared to Dr Tybjerg. He’s always here. In the Vertebrate Collection, in the corridor outside the collection, in his basement office, or in the refectory. Always. Last year, I even ran into him on Christmas Eve.’ Fjeldberg looked at Søren and added. ‘I had left my wife’s Christmas present behind in my office and I stopped by around 3 p.m. to pick it up. All the lights were off and I could have sworn I was alone. Suddenly I heard footsteps. I turned around, thinking it must be the security guard, but it was Tybjerg. He was carrying a bag of shopping and seemed to be in a good mood. We wished each other a Merry Christmas and as he was about to leave, I casually said, “Aren’t you going home for Christmas?” He muttered something, but when I asked him to repeat it, he gave a different answer. He saidhe was an atheist. Like I said, he didn’t seem sad at all, or I would have invited him to spend Christmas with us – I mean, if he had no family to go to. But he seemed fine. Scientific work clearly is his whole life.’
    Søren looked at Fjeldberg. They were back at the main entrance, where he had been met less than an hour ago.
    ‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ Søren said. ‘Dr Tybjerg’s relatively young, he’s talented, he publishes prolifically, he’s dedicated and hard-working, but according to your administrator with whom I spoke yesterday, he has never been offered tenure. Why on earth not?’
    Professor Fjeldberg sighed, and Søren’s seismograph reacted.
    ‘Personally, I’m not surprised – it’s a rare thing. We have to be selective and there are