Chapter I – To Spring

“Our bestsellers are the T-shirts I don’t do tapping, Don’t tap to me, and then the classic I survived ÚTL,” said the old man, glancing with malice at the reinforced office counters on the other side of the hall.

Valur was beginning to familiarise himself with the shop’s products. The old man was a little strict about certain details, but he was good company. He often tapped his fingers to himself while arranging the figurines, much to Valur’s delight, who was eager to learn the local art of tapping. That language was so elusive and spoken by so few – yet so necessary to live here – that Valur was absorbing it any chance he got. 

From his shop counter, Valur could see through the windows the comings and goings at the ÚTL Institute. 

“What’s your status with the immigration people on the other side?” the old man suddenly asked, nodding towards the institute’s offices, without smiling this time. 

“I submitted my migration application ANK-3459005-31 on the basis of a third-party transition to the first,” answered Valur.

“Argh, not many people got that one lately,” replied the old man.

“How so?” Valur asked, concerned. 

“Sometimes it’s not the most obvious form you need to take, that’s what I hear in the corridors around here. I’ve seen a lot of people coming with that one, but I haven’t seen many stay. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you, eh! If that one doesn’t work, try another one. OK? Now help me with the new delivery.”

Valur had already got used to the rhythm of the shop, and by association that of the immigration institute. They seemed to be in sync. In the morning, the institute filled up very quickly, and as the queues grew longer, the shop also filled up with applicants looking to distract themselves from the wait. Around closing time at the institute, the applicants became scarce, giving way to tourists eager for souvenirs. The souvenir shop was located outside the city centre, strategically placed on the road to the airport, making it the perfect opportunity for last-minute purchases before the end of a holiday. Come to think of it, Valur realised that the same was probably true regarding the location of the immigration institute, which was also strategically located for applicants at the end of their stay. 

The institute was closing relatively early, at least the branch opened to the public. Valur, who was always the one closing the shop much later, had noticed that the activities of a big van belonging to the institute extended well beyond office hours. Its engine made a very distinctive noise, signalling its every movement. However, Valur had never seen its driver. 

One rainy evening like any other, Valur was getting ready to close Souvenirs alone again when he heard the distinctive sound of the van in the parking lot. Intrigued, Valur took his time, arranging his favourite figurines, balancing the cash more times than necessary and cleaning the counter with a diligence he hadn’t shown since his first day. He hoped to catch a glimpse of this mysterious employee who worked later than the rest of the institute. As he was about to lock the large glass door, he saw out of the corner of his eye a fleeting shadow skimming past the institute’s counters. He turned around. A man was walking towards him with a solemn step. He was tall, much taller than Valur and the people around here. He was wearing a long black coat. Grey, bushy hair was breaking out from under a wide hat that shaded most of his face. Valur felt a heavy breathing infuse the corridor separating the institute from the souvenirs shop. With unexpressive eyes and slow movements, the man silently lowered his gaze on Valur’s employee badge. 

A dense atmosphere spread in the deserted hall. Valur tried as best as he could to fill the immense verbal void created by their encounter. 

“You…you look tired. Your days are pretty long, huh?” said Valur, hesitant and trembling. 

The man’s unreadable gaze slowly rose to Valur’s face. He nodded almost imperceptibly. With his senses on alert, Valur noticed a regular dripping sound coming from the long black coat. 

“Oh, but you’re soaked! Wait, give me your coat, we have a big radiator to dry it quickly in our office.”

To Valur’s surprise, the man silently complied and handed him his coat. Valur had made the offer in an unconscious effort to appear friendly; he did not think he would accept. The man revealed an emaciated, painfully hunched figure. 

“I’ll put it in our office, it’ll only take a few minutes to dry, you’ll see, we do this all the time.”

Valur had to stretch his arm as far as it could go to keep the drenched coat from dragging on the floor. Already heavy, it had surely doubled in weight given the excessive amount of water dripping from it. Valur could barely carry it. How long could this employee have been out in the rain? And more importantly, why? He hung the coat on a hanger just above the industrial-size radiator awkwardly taking up half the space of the shop’s office. Valur retraced his steps, wiping away the trail of water left by the coat as he went. The man was no longer there. After waiting cautiously for a few minutes, Valur decided to leave the office door open for the night to give the employee a chance to retrieve his coat. 

Valur gathered his belongings, cursing the two night zip lines he had to take before finally getting dry on a bus. A strange feeling lingered in his heart. The man in the van had neither spoken nor tapped with his fingers. Had he made a mistake by leaving the office door open? Did this man even work for the ÚTL institute at all?

The next morning, Valur arrived at work a little early. He wanted to check that everything was in order in the office he had left open the day before. The coat was gone. Everything else seemed as per usual. 

The old man arrived a few minutes later. 

“Already here! The best employee I’ve ever had! I should hire more like you!” he said without looking at Valur. It was the boss’ habit to make generic statements as a way of saying hello. 

The day began with a longer than usual queue at the ÚTL counters. 

“Well, the season is starting early this year,” commented the old man. “That’s good for us!”

Valur didn’t respond. His encounter the day before kept haunting his mind. As he arranged a new shipment of figurines on the shelf, he decided to talk to his boss about it. 

“Yesterday, at closing time, I met the driver of the ÚTL van.”

The old man’s expression changed. 

“The one that makes noise?”

Valur nodded. 

“It’s the mobile border of the Ankútl” added the old man. 

“An-kú-T-L?” Valur attempted. 

“Yes, that’s his name. The last letters are always difficult to pronounce for children and foreigners, so many call him Ankú, or even Ankúli. He’s the mobile border officer. He often works in the evenings.” He paused. “Did you talk to him?”

The old man wasn’t making his usual generic, digressive comments. He was precise, unusually concise. 

“A little. But he didn’t speak or tap.”

The old man got noticeably tense, as Valur added, “I saw that he was soaked from yesterday’s downpour, so I offered to let him dry his coat in our office, but when I came back, he had gone…”

“Ankúli!” screamed the old man, tapping a series of incomprehensible words on the counter, which seemed to express relief. “That means you’ll have a good deportation!”

Valur’s face contorted in horror. “A good deportation?” he whispered.

The old man tried to make up for it. “Well, if you get deported, I mean. It doesn’t happen all the time, eh. But it’s good to know that it will go well… you see, it’s the Ankútl’s job to escort those who haven’t been granted residency. They say that if the Ankútl comes to see you or goes to your home, and you treat him well, you’ll have a good deportation. If you treat him badly, you’ll have a bad deportation.”

Valur was in disbelief. His encounter suddenly took on a whole new meaning in his memory. He recalled with horror the Ankúli examining his badge. Has the Ankúli been testing him last night? Has Valur passed the test?

BANG.

A puffin figurine fell violently to the floor. Valur didn’t notice that he was dangerously retreating his body towards the shelves as he was processing the news. 

Tears instantly began to flow from Valur’s eyes. He couldn’t bear the thought of having broken one of his favourite figurines. 

The old man approached him, with clumsy movements. “Don’t worry, it’s okay, there are plenty more. I won’t deduct it from your wages, eh, these things happen,” he said as he picked up pieces of puffin scattered on the floor.

Valur’s tears were short-lived and he pulled himself together. Luckily, it seemed that only one wing had been broken. He quickly stuffed what was left of the puffin into his pocket. He had customers to serve.