Conversation · Feld Mural

He looks around. "Like -- maybe we can get shovels and dig?" A quiver of a smile. "Don't mind that -- a bad attempt at humour."

"I am trying to ask the wind."

He stops to consider your words. "Ask the wind sounds like an expression. For when you have no idea. We should continue our search. Perhaps even get a little desperate..."

"Well..." The man behind you hesitates for a moment. "I was trying to explain to Mikael what it is the officer keeps returning here for -- then I realized I don't know."

"I'm just thinking. This is me thinking. Nothing strange here."

"Of course. Didn't mean to imply otherwise."

"I am trying to ask Revachol."

"'Ask Revachol' is the name of a war time radio show the communists used to address civil issues," he remarks. "Maybe that helps?"

It doesn't.

"I am trying to ask the wind."

"Ask the wind or 'Aska i Vinden' is the name of a Vaasan lullaby," he remarks. "Maybe that helps?"

"I am performing black magic."

"Blood spatter reading, rooster sacrifice -- still quite common in Revachol," he remarks. "Hope it helps."

No one. You're just talking to yourself again -- the letters slowly peeling off the mural seem to form a malevolent smile.

A breeze, like a quiet sigh, moves over you. The cool air breaks across your body. It brings the salt of the sea into your lungs.

GO TO THE CHILDREN OF THE BIG SEA.

The big sea... The Big C? That can only mean one thing: Communism.

Yes, Comrade Zephyr. I shall find them. Girl Child Revolution and Girl Child Communism!

BOY CHILD FREEDOM. BOY CHILD JUSTICE.

The wind rushes away, leaving you where you were -- on the rotting boards of the Feld Building.

"Officer?" The lieutenant watches you attentively. "Are you okay? It looked like we lost you for a second."

"I think I need to talk to some kids in the village."

"When you're ready." The lieutenant nods.

"The wind told me to talk to children. Let's roll."

"Okay..." The lieutenant looks down the coast, toward the shacks. "When you're ready, officer."

"Did I have a seizure, Kim?"

"Doesn't look like it to me." He pauses to study you for a moment. "Probably not, anyway."

"I need to go to the children, Kim. Girl Child Communism. Boy Child Freedom."

"Right. Well, I'm sure that after..." The lieutenant's words come to a slow halt. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You mean we should do that right now, don't you?" the lieutenant asks, his usually even tone wavering slightly. "Can that be done after the murder investigation?"

"The wind didn't tell me to wait."

"This is part of the investigation now."

"Communism is a murder investigation, Kim. It's about understanding whose bootheel killed the human spirit."

"I see. Political theory as detective work. Right." The lieutenant looks down the coast, toward the shacks. "After you, officer."

What the hell was that?

Yes. I understand.

Suddenly, all is quiet. There is no cold hand brushing against your forehead, no rustle in the reeds. The wind has died down, or gone behind a corner? You only hear distant waves washing the coast.

The ruin in front of you is silent as a tomb.

Listen to the wind again.

[Leave.]

"What is this building?"

"Maybe we could, you know..." He points to the man who points at the building, telling his son something. "Ask the man who's pointing at the building?"

Great idea!

The long abandoned industrial building towers above you in silence.

"Some sort of industrial ruin? I don't recognize the name of the company. R&D used to mean Research and Development... It looks long-abandoned."

You see a once-bright mural towering above you. The signage has peeled off over the years, but you can still make out: 'FELD ELECTRICAL R&D'.

A slogan used to intertwine with the loops a long time ago. Now only a shadow of peeled letters remains. It says: 'Tomorrow is just a whisper away'.

"Tomorrow is just a whisper away..."

"Looks like tomorrow never came." The lieutenant raises the collar of his bomber jacket.

"Ah, yes, their famous motto!" You hear the man exclaim behind you. "A fine example of technological optimism, from..." He says something, but the wind blows and you can't hear him.

The wind whispers and whispers.

[Turn away.]

Step closer.

Above the mural -- a collapsed roof, broken windows set in walls that are cracking and will soon also fall, and the coastal breeze rustling and sighing in the remains of the edifice.

Feld Electrical. How ironic -- all these dark rooms...

Feld Electrical -- you only know them as a small company that makes ink cartridges. Looks like they used to be... big.

There's something in the wind. Sometimes the only way to go forward is to fail first.

[Leave.]

Listen to the wind -- but for what? Ruby whistling? The crackle of her bonfire? Some errant whisper, or a dog barking...

Shake off the feeling.