Aladdin's Problem (9 page)

When my problem started afflicting me, I went to see her and also spent the night. I slept fitfully, and it was good feeling her next to me, when I suddenly awoke as if plunging from a height. She then switched on the lamp; we chatted, not about my problem, but about her travels; I had her read aloud to me. Now that we had become friends, I understood her better there was still some eroticism, but of a different kind.

She enjoyed hearing my accounts of Kornfeld's investigations. After all, historical, especially archeological interests are closely interwoven with graves; basically, the world is a grave into which the ages descend and from which they rise again like asphodels. These processes are a sowing and reaping, and Orpheus lives in every historian.

Once, right after returning from Asia Minor, Bertha said: "It's obvious why Komfeld visited Knossos, Mycene, and Troy — but why hasn't he been to Cappadocia? That would be the Promised Land for you people."

67

This was the second major turning point in the history of Pietas-Terrestra, if I may call our car trouble near the Black Forest churchyard our first major turning point. When Kornfeld heard about Bertha's suggestion and conned the literature from Herodotus and Pausanias down to the latest travel guides, he hired an airplane, and the three of us flew to Urgup in the middle of Anatolia.

There, with the help of local guides, we wandered through an underground world. It has been known for a long time and it was also opened to tourism in the modem era; but it has never been explored to its full extent. The first person to mention it was Sieur Paul Lucas, a French traveler in the age of Louis XIV. His account, like Marco Polo's description of China, was considered a wild fancy. Who can believe in subterranean cities with churches, streets, marketplaces, stables, granaries — in complexes to which whole nations have retreated at various times? Tools and weapons can be found there, from stone axes to machine guns, steel helmets, and gas masks. Mammoth hunters, Hittites, Assyrians, Phrygians, Lydians, Persians, Turks, magi, Christians, and Muslims have left their traces here.

Whenever we chance upon such a settlement, which has existed uninterruptedly since prehistoric times, we may assume that the earth has been especially gracious: this high plateau is formed out of a tuffa that can be broken with shovels, yet soon hardens into rock upon being
exposed to air. In this respect, it even outdoes molasse.

The corridors, made secure by rolling doors resembling millstones, lead to rooms and chambers that, lying over or under one another, stretch on for very long distances. As I have said, they have been only partially explored.

Kornfeld instantly realized that this and no other place on earth was the proper site for Terrestra. The house, built over millennia, was prepared; only the furniture was missing.

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But that was not all. In front of these underground cities, there is a forest of towers, at the sight of which Sieur Paul Lucas was utterly astonished: an enormous mass of cones shaped like sugarloaves and often as high as the Castle of St. Angelo. There are well over a hundred thousand; the Turks call them the "chimneys of the fairies." Hermits and monastic orders established themselves in some; a few served as dovecotes, while others are still inhabited today, containing, for instance, a police station. A teahouse had also been set up, and we relaxed there after ascending from the underworld.

As I have said, these towers have been known and also described for a long time; in Kornfeld's library, I came across a six-volume opus by Guillaume de Jerphanion:
The Rock Churches of Cappadocia.

Kornfeld enlightened me about the geological origins
of these formations; I am not sure that I fully understood. According to him, the high plateau was once covered, or rather coated, by a thin, hard stratum; water had seeped in through cracks, disintegrating the friable subjacent rock. Sandstorms had completed the job, grinding the cylinders into shape. It is owing to their caps, which protect them like helmets, that the towers have survived for millennia.

This explanation made it clear to me why the majority of these towers looked like mushrooms with black caps and sand-colored stems, while others, which were not yet completely detached, formed chains.

Thus, along with halls, grottoes, and caverns, there were also unlimited numbers of tumuli beckoning to Terrestra.

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In this way, the first stage ofthe undertaking was completed according to Jersson's guidelines, and far more favorably than we had hoped. We could now focus more strongly on promotion.

To start with, we had to think about acquiring the land. A lease would have to be obtained for an unlimited time or, as the phrase goes, "in perpetuity"; for that was the only possibility in keeping with Terrestra's plan and its unique offer. Fortunately, the terrain, although gigantic, was a wasteland. Here too we had unexpected luck.

Once again, a military regime had taken the helm in Anatolia; the name of the general who controlled the good and bad weather was Humayum. There were old connections with him, partly through a bank that Jersson maintained in Istanbul. The general was in a quandary both at home and abroad; oil and foreign currency were lacking, the prisons were overcrowded. He had to be on good terms with the democracies. As a result, we could look forward to striking a deal with him.

Actually, I was supposed to negotiate it. The banker knew that I had studied media; furthermore, aside from Kornfeld, I was the one most familiar with the plan. But I had to refuse, for by then I was already doing only half a job, although I was still accessible.

How was it that he decided on Sigi? After all, the banker had no lack of promoters who had proved their worth in the petroleum trade. Sigi lived a Bohemian life and despised business; he had been active for only a few weeks, playing the role of a sort of government minister. Perhaps Jersson merely wanted to hand his nephew and son-in-law a job on the Terrestra payroll. It could do no harm, for the general was bound to accept our offer.

Be that as it may, Sigi was a good choice. He had a Levantine vein; in corruption, it usually goes a lot further than Hanseatic scrupulousness. Besides, in his pocket, he had a Swiss check made out for a princely sum for charitable purposes — a further sign that Jersson's trust in him had grown.

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I have no idea how much Sigi embellished the report on his mission; he had a theatrical gift. Humayum was rather corpulent for a general. He wore no stars, there was no decoration at his throat; but he did sport a palette of parti-colored ribbons, as is customary in these higher ranks. Coins and stamps showed him in profile; the artists had stylized his profile into that of an eagle.

The conversation had started in the general's home and had concluded during a horseback ride around the old city walls of Istanbul.

The general had begun with the question:

"So you want to import corpses? Don't you feel we have enough of them already? Wouldn't that be carrying coals to Newcastle?"

"General, we are supplying them for free. And besides, they will bring you a good return."

The discourse would have been worthy of the quill of a Goldoni, but I do not wish to elaborate on it. Contact between idea and business is unavoidable, but one should secrete the details — they had already tormented me during my house calls for Pietas. What's more, Sigi had a feeling for cynical comments and Humayum for pungent remarks. A dictator appreciates both; they make him look as if he would stop at nothing.

That is why I want to get to Sigi's results immediately. The general had been convinced of the importance of the plan "right off the bat" — if only because it was
backed by the mighty Jersson. The installations alone would open up a territory that had previously been visited purely by tourists. Many hands would be needed. Men and women who eked out wretched livelihoods here or became guest workers in Western countries would earn a living in situ. Rivers that had long since dried up would once again yield gold.

That was only the start. If Terrestra succeeded in creating a huge religious site here, a central cemetery for the planet, then not only the dead would come — it would turn into a place of pilgrimage, for greater and greater hosts of the bereaved and the devout.

The check had also buoyed up Humayum's optimism. He shook Sigi's hand: "Dear friend, my best to your uncle; I am with you — you can send a telegram to the pope."

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Sigi had soon tired of his job; he returned to his Prussian biographies. His uncle had provided him with a handsome commission.

The signing of the papers was followed by a flood of applications. They covered a lot more than the advance payment before a single spit had been turned. Promoters from the oil trade drafted pamphlets, which were sent out into the world. These men gave free rein to their sense of humor. For example: "We cannot promise you eternal bliss, but we
can
promise you eternal rest." Or:

"Would you like to be united with your loved ones forever?" Also: "We offer protection in our towers and vaults, for the living as well." Secondary businesses were already crystallizing; travel agencies, airlines, insurance companies, hotels, emergency accomodation in case of a catastrophe. It was good that we had Jersson backing us: it all went far beyond the capacity of Pietas. On the other hand, it is amazing how simple a business becomes when it expands on a large scale. Uncle Fridolin was not up to it; he had a knack for details, but not for simplicity.

Soon, orders arrived. The first letter that comes to mind was from a woman living on a government pension in a small town near Hanover. She had always been haunted by the nightmare "that the gravediggers would dig her up again" — now she offered her life savings for a modest plot in Terrestra. She also wanted to take along her daughter, who had been dead and buried for years now. My uncle did not know Saint Lactantius even by name; but in this case, he followed the saint's maxim: "We cannot neglect our obligation to bury anyone, even strangers; for it there are no kinfolk, they are replaced by humanitarianism." The woman and her daughter received free graves and free airfreight. A good beginning; it was written up in the newspapers.

That was small potatoes; the first large crop was brought by a Brazilian sect, which purchased one of the subterranean halls. They all wanted to be with their guru. They also set up a chapel there. It promised to draw many periodic visits.

The churches smelled competition. They, in turn, offered sites — but how could they vie with Terrestra. Whenever a new municipal councillor took office, he did not feel bound by any contract; the soil turned into capital. Parking lots and high-rises covered the old ground; the graves were demolished by excavators.

One of our departments had the task of purchasing relics, another had to computerize standard reference works like
Who's Who
and the
Almanac de Gotha;
whenever someone with a rank and name passed away, Terrestra offered its services. Some people had already signed contracts with us and had viewed their future sites during a vacation trip.

The demand for towers was surprising — but luckily we had any number of them. One fortunate detail was that families, clans, and other groups did their own furnishing and decorating; it reduced our workload. A primal instinct was rearoused. Supposedly, even elephants head toward a common graveyard when the end is nigh.

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I also benefited personally from my insurance background. Terrestra soon appeared to be growing exuberantly. Travel agencies for the living became larger than those for the dead. Then the hotels, the carpenter's shops, the stonemason's studios, both in situ and in various countries, all the way to the orchid gardens in Singapore.

Permanent services had to be established — say, for placing wreaths on specific dates or for eternal lights and other ritual objects. The Chinese, who soon became our best clients, wanted small oblations to be served, and they also set great store by protection against spirits. Despite Uncle Fridolin's resistance, I had made sure that no machines were used; for their final journey, the dead were to be carried on shoulders, and no electric light was to burn in the vaults. Many hands had to be employed, which pleased the general. In his opinion, unnecessary work is of greater social benefit than necessary work, which is inevitable and emerges of its own accord. But we were supplying him with the construction of pyramids.

Although the burials have already commenced, we are still setting up shop. The process resembles that of the oil business; but while the latter robs the earth, we enrich it — and all the way to the frontier of time, beyond which a dead planet will orbit around the sun.

Tombs that no one tended anymore were earmarked for being walling up, and a mere rumor about the method involved would scare off any grave robber. Here too, Jersson's genius has proved itself. For the capping, he wants to use a layer of refuse: not only will it cost nothing, but Terrestra will reap high profits by recycling it. Truly a man who knows how to sail in every wind.

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Construction of the central airport is complete; it is ringed by hotels, banks, office buildings. At the end of the runways there are storehouses for freight. From there, conveyor belts lead to a second complex. The latter is the size of a medium city. This is where the procedures begin with which we are familiar from Pietas. They occupy all the dealers, artisans, and artists who have mortuary obligations.

The path continues to the religious sites. Options for freethinkers and sun worshipers have already been granted; however, the old and venerable communities are also involved. We were surprised by the requests for new graves for people already buried — and not just individuals. A growing majority seems to be dissatisfied, even depressed, especially in the industrial countries. People do not even wish to be buried there anymore.