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♫ Mare Chronium––Contemplating ♫
31/398
I enter the corridor, carrying a tray with two meals. It is Coq au Vin, and it smells delicious.
Our guest has requested that I serve it five minutes past midnight. He is a nice older gentleman with gray stubble, who has already paid for everything in advance. „K. K. Koriander“ he wrote on the registration form and repeatedly confirmed that the reception at our small country hotel is indeed staffed around the clock and that room service is absolutely punctual. The nighttime receptionist and room service, that’s me, and it’s precisely five past midnight. I knock on the door of Room No. 27.
The door opens: „Come in. That smells delicious.“ Mr. Coriander isn’t alone. There’s a young man there, perhaps thirty years old. He’s wearing a suit, and his hair is slightly disheveled.
Mr. Koriander gestures toward the table. I place the plates in front of them, set down cutlery and napkins, and pour two glasses of still mineral water. The young man smiles at me. I feel somewhat peculiar. How did he get in here? I was standing at the reception the whole time. Or did he arrive in the minutes when I was in the kitchen getting the Coq au Vin?
„Please stay,“ Mr. Koriander tells me, „in case we need anything else.“ I nod and step next to the bed. If someone were to unexpectedly need something from me at this hour, there’s a call button at the reception.
The two men clink glasses of water, and while the young man eagerly tucks into his chicken, the older one starts asking questions. They converse in English, and Mr. Koriander’s guest is apparently American. As far as I can understand, they’re talking about Mars and some life forms there.
„Tweerl?“ Mr. Koriander asks, or at least that’s how it sounds. The young man laughs and says that humans can’t pronounce it, so he can’t either. Mr. Koriander is quite interested in something he calls non-human consciousness. It’s all very strange what the two of them are talking about – the young man, who keeps chewing and swallowing before answering, and Mr. Koriander, who doesn’t eat at all, but makes notes in a small notebook.
They talk about this creature with the unpronounceable name as if it were in the room. Mr. Koriander wants to know how it evolved and what happened to the other „Thots.“ I’m quite confused because, on one hand, they seem to be talking about some sort of bird—with a „beak“ in its literal meaning—and on the other hand, about an Egyptian god who is said to have taught the ancient Egyptians how to read and write.
The young man tosses the last gnawed bone back onto the plate and wipes his hands with the napkin.
„I would have liked to discuss Venus with you as well,“ Mr. Koriander says regretfully, „and the intelligent plants there.“ It seems very eccentric, what the two of them are discussing in the middle of the night. The young man shrugs. „Yummie,“ he says and wipes his lips, which must mean he enjoyed it.
Mr. Koriander turns to me: „We’re finished. You can clear the table.“ So, I do. I leave them the water.
It’s strange, I think, as I ride our aging elevator downstairs. „Tweerl“ goes through my mind once more. Whatever it is, it must be a very peculiar creature that thinks quite differently from ordinary people. But then again, those two weren’t exactly ordinary people.
A short time later, Mr. Koriander approaches the counter and hands me his room key. „Would you like to go out?“ I ask, bewildered because at this hour, everything in the village is fast asleep. But Mr. Koriander wants to check out. He leaves a generous tip on the counter. I thank him and watch him with astonishment. It’s just past one in the morning.
And only then do I remember the young American. But somehow, I already know that he’s no longer in the hotel. He must have disappeared the same way he appeared.
The Coq au Vin, which Mr. Koriander had not touched, still tastes incredibly delicious, even when cold.
