“What was demonstrated there was the solidity of the stone beneath the tottering British Imperium of course the fantasy of a gunboat trader nation but as with Gibraltar so with Kircheisen the real is made more so—OH Herr Eiger I have—I would LOVE to make something that was specific to the location would you permit that?”

“I could not allow the use of our corporate branding of course—”

“NO no no I do not mean to imply your sponsorship no that would be inappropriate of course but something—I understand your facility is defined by impenetrability perhaps something to invoke that I see I see I SEE A TRAIN OBLITERATED AGAINST THE MOUNTAIN I SEE—Oh I am sorry that was loud sorry madame I trust that will come out—art you know it is percussive—”

“This does not seem—”

“Allow me to persuade you. Show me your beautiful facility I must touch it I must see it I must lick the salt from the stone I must sir—”

“You must what—”

“Yes yes I will speak to Inge. It is decided sir. I am so THRILLED to have met you. Paul, you are a genius you were quite right quite right I am SEIZED that is what I am—”

I go to embrace him and again that weird mix of manly man and something weird and like rose water chocolates as he fends me off like NO I HUG NO HIPPIES and I—feel—

I feel someone behind me and there is silence of scrutiny and I turn and I see—

Nothing.

There is an empty space where there should be a face and a torso.

Weird.

Then I look down into eyes like the sky.

—

Evil Hansel is wearing a little tiny suit today. It is double-breasted and blue, and unlike Eiger there’s no flower in his lapel. Instead there’s a little tiny pin of a Swiss flag. I actually cringe a little inside like I can feel that knife in my leg. Blood slurry in a winter gutter, slowly tipping down into the drains and sewers underneath. He smells like pool cleaner and limonene or his mother washes him in blueberry air freshener. Perhaps she does.

“Hi little dude who are you?”

“Hallo,” says Evil Hansel. “My name is Marcel.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pleased to meet you Marcel I’m Banjo.”

(Sky eyes don’t blink.)

“Do you know my grandfather?”

“No I— O wait you are Hans Eiger’s grandson?”

“Yes of course.”

“No I don’t know him we were just talking I want to do things to his mountain like—I want to make art there.”

“Oh. You are an artist.”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well I hope you have a rewarding time here at our festival and that your work is productive for you.”

“Do you like art?”

“I prefer to work with Lego and so on. I also like movies.”

“Good for you.”