“Think about the years after the Second World War, of everything we have accomplished,” he said. “Everything Europe has achieved in an incredibly short period of time. When people have combined their resources.”

“That was brilliant, wasn’t it?”

“And how can you be a determinist when you want to take part in protest marches every weekend and spend all your free time handing out flyers?”

“I said I was a determinist. I didn’t say I was logical.”

“And I say that you’re allowed to have two thoughts in your head at the same time.” He stopped, took hold of me, and pulled me close to him, but I didn’t return the hug, because suddenly I could feel how angry I was.

“Signe?” He held me.

“They are going to drain off all the water in Lake Eide,” I said. “I can’t fathom that we’re walking here discussing whether power lines are beautiful.”

“Yes . . . I know . . . I know. Sorry.”

“Determinism or not, we don’t own nature,” I said, disentangling myself from his embrace. “Just like it doesn’t own us. We don’t own the water, nobody owns the water. But all the same, we persist. And even though I don’t think it will help in the long run, I will continue taking part in protest marches and handing out flyers, as long as I have feet to carry me and hands to distribute them with.”

We stood facing each other on the road. Suddenly I wished that I was taller, because he looked at me, at my fierceness, as if all of a sudden he thought there was something strange about it. As if I were a strange and not a particularly attractive animal.

“But,” he said calmly, “we can do what we want, Signe. That’s what makes us human beings, what distinguishes us from animals. It must be possible to think both ways at the same time, that it’s brutal, but also fantastic, that these installations make life better for thousands of us, now and for many decades into the future, that we are creating civilization.”

I was unable to say anything; there was a pressure in my chest. “You’ve been away from here for too long,” I said finally and tried to smile. “I think we have to move back, before you turn into a city boy through and through.”

“Maybe you are the one talking like a city boy. . . . Or maybe you’ve become a city girl?” he said. “I’ve always thought that city people have a more romantic relationship to nature, that those of us who are from here actually also see its utility value.”

“Are you serious?” I turned and walked away, while he stayed where he was.