Free Aladdin's Problem by Ernst Jünger Page A

week."
    That was the birth of the firm of Terrestra, under whose aegis our Pietas continued a modest existence, although the impulses radiated from the latter. Jersson then outlined his conception of the development.
    First a piece of land had to be found — one that was as cheap as possible, perhaps even gratis. Participation by the owners could even be considered. Jersson was familiar with this procedure from his oil explorations. It would be followed by the purchasing or leasing of land and the signing of contracts with the government. Once all that was settled, the promotional campaign had to be launched and the merchandise offered. Jersson reckoned with a large demand. It should not only cover the initial investment, but also add to the working capital.
    Business is, after all, other people's money, and that's what bankers live on. Nevertheless, I was amazed by how precisely this banker had recognized the need. Jersson considered Kornfeld the right prospector; he could use the airplanes that were occupied in the petroleum sector, perhaps even some of the excavating and drilling equipment.
    In conclusion, Jersson said: "In a burial, the main point is the digging — it would be good if we could be spared as much of it as possible by doing the proper groundwork." He was obviously picturing what the Swabian calls a "mown meadow." He did not go into detail. Yet we learned how important precisely that tip was.
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    I ought to describe the ongoing development of Terrestra, although I have been only marginally involved ever since my problem began to afflict me. First, a new office building was put up. Uncle Fridolin had lost his skepticism; he was now as keen as mustard. IfJersson was a genius in financial matters, my uncle was quite gifted. Jersson was the strategist, Fridolin the tactician. He had again reached a new level; this was expressed in his behavior, his modern comforts, and also physiognomically. As Terrestra's reputation grew, he accordingly changed cars; he kept an airplane and gave large dinners. My new office was as spacious as a ballroom, its floor was covered with a Kirman. I had the walls padded with red leather and lined with bookcases containing black binders. When Bertha first visited me there, she said: "Your new style reminds me of a limbo."
    There was something to that. I had to cope with the mortuary pomp that conceals the misery, the ephemeralness of the world. Despite the routine, it rattled me. At times, between two visitors, a rumbling came from the silence, like the distant thunder of Doomsday. Bertha had already been averse to my joining Pietas. She might have thought of the Nobis Tavern: this is the inn at the edge of the world, where the dead drink together, swapping their experiences before descending into the depth. Although Kornfeld was still reconnoitering, we began our advertising campaign, accepting deposits in the manner of building and loan associations.
    It was my job to advise the promotion department; only a selection of the mail reached my desk. Most of it was processed in the secretary's office, through telephone calls and printed matter. I received inquiries from churches, sects, associations, and important individuals. I also retained the job of offering advice in heraldic matters; this was consistent with my historical interests. Even if the old families no longer played a role in society and had renounced their titles, they nevertheless wanted to be buried in a manner appropriate to their social standing.
    Since the reputation of Terrestra soon spread beyond the borders, I had to keep pace with, indeed prepare for, the wishes of a worldwide clientele. This changed my nightly readings; I studied works like Klemm's Universal Cultural History ofMankind, De Vries's Jewish Customs and Symbols, the Reverend Andreas's Past and Present Funeral Customs of the Various Nations, and so on.
    The throng of eccentrics, some of whom wanted absurd arrangements, was astonishing; but I do not