A nice man out of uniform

Wednesday wasn’t that funny, not compared to the rest of the week and weekend:

We were standing by the globe, «the new symbol of unity» in Copenhagen the other day. The place has been filled with cops for days. We treat them like flies and basically ignore them. They want their presence to be intimidating, but it isn’t, not to us, not when we are used to seeing these nice people with clubs and shields in their hands, and their heads covered by a huge protective helmet.

The uniformed thugs, the current Gestapo is visible. They have a presence in the streets, as they like to call it.

But that isn’t enough for them. A lot of the tyranny’s soldiers trail us out of uniform as well. If they aren’t intelligence or something they are usually easy to spot, though. They aren’t very bright, and they are lousy actors. We don’t allow ourselves to be bothered by those flies either, unless they become really troublesome.

And sometimes we have a lot of fun with them, and on rare occasions, such as this one, we get the opportunity to really enjoy ourselves.

He called himself Karl. Karl wasn’t new. He had stuck around for weeks, and we could almost feel his excitement, his bold desire to take the next step, and be the hero of all his Gestapo comrades.

After he had barked against his comrades in arms for some minutes to impress us he asked if he could join us at our squatted house. We shrugged and told him our home was open to everybody, playing along.

These encounters usually go like this: They know that we know that they know that we know it’s them.

Or something to that effect.

I noticed that he paid me a lot of attention out of the corner of his eyes. He seemed very determined today. I felt a little queasy, but I was a little bored, and decided to play along, to give him rope.

He stuck to me like glue, eager in his condemnation of his secret pals, like he would always be one of the first to throw stones at protests. As I said he isn’t that much of an actor and doesn’t really want to be either. Like all members of Gestapo he enjoys his power, and without the ability to exercise it he is nothing.

The two of us slowed down, walking a little behind the others. They would soon disappear ahead if we didn’t pick up speed. I felt alone, just for a moment.

- You aren’t doing anything special tonight, are you?

- I guess not, I shrugged.

The others turned a corner. The two of us couldn’t see them anymore.

We walked through a dark alley. He grabbed me and pushed himself at me.

- What are you doing? I chuckled.

- Just stand still, he breathed in my ear. – Stand still, goddamnit. You would want to be a good girl, now.

I tried to pull free, but he held me hard.

He tried to kiss me on the lips. I turned my face away from him. He grabbed my head and made a serious attempt at keeping it in correct position from his point of view.

I heard steps. He did, too, when he saw me look behind him.

- He wants you to be nice to him, Lotte said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

The poor guy suddenly seemed to get it, to notice everybody else standing around. I don’t want to think too much about what would have happened if they hadn’t been here.

- I think it’s about time to put a stop to this, now, I told the scowling man calmly. – Don’t you agree?

It ended quickly, almost before it began. His scowl changed to a snarl and he pulled away, walked off, and faded into the city night. «Karl» stopped existing there and then, and we wouldn’t see him again, except behind a helmet visor and shield and a raised club.


This is only one of many encounters between us and the Gestapo in the Copenhagen streets. Day in and day out they do their best to entertain us, to keep us on our toes.