I can’t see the bottom, but nonetheless it feels as if it were pressing toward me. The Arietta extends 1.35 meters below the waterline. The water level should be at least two meters in the canal now, but it depends on how much the farmers in the area are draining from it. If the vegetables need water, the water level will be low, so I keep an eye on the water at all times, as I creep farther and farther inland.

An oncoming boat from time to time, otherwise there’s nothing to do, nothing to concentrate on, just this calm movement forward through this placid landscape. I miss the ocean. I miss the waves, the concentration they demand. Here it’s impossible to escape from myself.

Magnus, I know exactly when I lost you and you lost me. It took me by such surprise—a shock, even though I should have known it beforehand. Yes, I should have understood it ahead of time. Because you didn’t participate actively in the protest like the rest of us, more and more frequently you left us up there on the mountain and drove down to your valley, to the farm, to your parents. Didn’t you feel safe with us? Were you frightened or were you just fed up—with the discussions, the songs, the warmth?

One evening when you came back you brought your father with you. Daddy welcomed you, the way he welcomed everyone who came. In his large dark-green parka, with a heavy sweater underneath, he looked larger than before. For the first time his name—Bjørn, meaning bear—suited him.

He shook Sønstebø’s hand, greeted him, said it had been a long time, but that he didn’t blame him, although we all wondered about the absence of the people from Eidesdalen. We knew they had farms, they had animals, but . . . it would have strengthened the protest had they been here with us. But Daddy didn’t say anything about this—it was a conscious choice.

“So here you are,” Daddy said.

“Yes,” Sønstebø replied.

“Come have a seat, have some coffee.”

“I thank you kindly.”

I went over to Magnus. “You went to get him?”

“He wanted to come along.”

“Good. Finally.”

“He has something to say.”

It was only then that I noticed that there was something agitated about Magnus—his movements were sharp, his eyes alert.

We sat down with them by the fire, many people joined us. Sønstebø was treated like a guest of honor.

“Yes . . .” Sønstebø said finally. “It turns out . . . that . . . it seems that we, those of us in Eidesdalen, we think you should end this.”

“What?” Daddy said. “You don’t mean it?”