Rudolph Herzog - Ghosts of Berlin

WHEN HE WAS THIRTEEN, DIMITRI had his first asthma attack. He was playing basketball in the school gym when all of a sudden he felt his windpipe contract, as if from the size of a firehose to the circumference of a straw. A doctor was quickly called to treat him, but the high dosage of cortisone pills he prescribed made Dimitris face swell up. The attacks became a regular occurrencea smoke-filled kafenio or a swim in the sea could cause a bout so vicious that his friends would have to come to his aid and rush him home.

Dimitris grandmother was convinced that the water was to blame for his condition. She insisted that the family buy an eel for the well. Itll eat up the muck in there. At first, his parents ignored her advice, but after he had several attacks in quick succession, Dimitris mother gave in. When he pulled aside the heavy slab that covered the mouth of the well, hed see it down therea long, thin shadow, swimming in slow circles at the bottom.

Though their cottage in the Pindos mountains now had cleaner water, Dimitris asthma didnt get any better. One morning, Dimitri found the eel floating dead on the surface, and his father had to fish it out before it could contaminate the water supply. Dimitris mother, fed up with pills and remedies, finally made an appointment for him with a city doctor.

The doctor gave him two inhalersa blue one for daily doses, and an extra-powerful red one for emergencies. For many years, Dimitri never left home without stuffing both of them into the pockets of his jeans.

Time passed, and Dimitri grew into an affable, if rather overcautious young man. He did quite well in school, and was accepted to the prestigious Athens University of Economics and Business. There he discovered that he not only had a knack for trade, but also an aptitude for languages. He was hired right out of college by the Athens office of an international industrial conglomerate based in Munich. Dimitri would often fly there for meetings, sometimes giving himself a few hours to explore the city or have a drink with his German colleagues afterward before catching a flight home. Though he rarely needed it now, he still stored the emergency inhaler in his briefcase so hed always know where it was.

When the economic crisis got hold of Greece and wouldnt let go, Dimitris cushy life came to an abrupt end. He received notification from his German employers that they were shutting down their operations in Greece, and that his position was to be terminated.

Some months later, when one of Dimitris former colleagues got in touch to check up on him, Dimitri confessed that he was making ends meet by managing a souvlaki shop. His colleague had moved to Berlin and suggested that his employment prospects would be better there, but Dimitri wasnt so sure. Though he had a bit of money saved up to tide him over while he looked for a job, he was worried about his German. While it was good enough to get by in everyday life, he felt it was in no way adequate for conducting business meetings or negotiating deals. But his colleague insisted. He was about to leave for a sabbatical, and Dimitri was welcome to stay at his place while he was away. It would be a better investment to bone up on his German, his colleague said, than to pay rent.

Dimitri arrived to a city alight with an autumnal palette of browns and golds. They reminded him of the intense colors that swept across the mountains of his childhood home around this time of year. With every gust of wind, leaves blew down from the trees in shimmering cascades. A few tumbled onto the windshield of Dimitris taxi as it made its way to the north Berlin neighborhood of Prenzlauer Berg. In front of the building where it dropped him off, a man was slowly progressing down the sidewalk with a leaf blower. He blasted a jet of air into the gutter, whirling serrated chestnut leaves all about the ground. A second man followed close behind, raking up the leaves and shoveling them into a bright-orange trash bag. The men paused to let Dimitri pass as he dragged his suitcase up to the marble entrance, fished the keys his colleague had sent him from his bag, and let himself in.

The apartment was a spacious studio. His friend had partitioned the room with the clever use of bookshelves and Japanese screens. Dimitri was anxious to get started on his plans. Even before unpacking, he had connected to the Wi-Fi and was on his laptop looking up classes. There was a language school that took rolling admissions within walking distance of the apartment. He could start the next day. Without a second thought, he paid for a two-month course.

This turned out to be a mistake. Though he had selected the intermediary level, the exercises were annoyingly basicjust conversations about the weather and food. After three days Dimitris patience ran out, and he asked for his money back.

The experience had discouraged him from enrolling in another school, so the day after he dropped out, Dimitri set off to wander around the neighborhood and plan his next move. He knew little about Prenzlauer Berg save that it had once been a popular spot for artists and bohemians, though everything around him seemed more expensive than any genuine bohemian could afford. On Pappelallee, a bustling thoroughfare, every other storefront appeared to house some chic caf or boutique. BMWs and Mercedes-Benzes lined the street.

Dimitri found himself walking through a small park where young mothers and nannies sat on benches gently rocking the strollers in front of them. He noticed a cluster of weatherworn tombstones, which seemed out of place in a public park. At the far end, there was a nondescript building with the words Bibliothek am Friedhof emblazoned on its windows. The Cemetery Library? Was he reading that right? Curious now, he entered the building. Despite its name, the librarys interior was unremarkable. Two large halls full of books flanked the entrance, with computer terminals clustered in the middle. There appeared to be more visitors browsing the web than the shelves. It seemed like your run-of-the-mill library, right down to the silence that was policed by a stocky middle-aged woman just waiting for someone to violate the rules.

Can I help you?

Dimitri cast a quick glance around the room before turning his attention to her.