Free Naïve Super by Erlend Loe Page A

sorry sight.
    Kim writes that he found the quote on the back of a book the Pope published a couple of years ago. The previous meteorologist must have left it behind. A Catholic meteorologist.
    Be not afraid.
    It’s a good quote. I’ll give him that, the Pope. But not a hundred times over.
    I stick the end of Kim’s fax into my brother’s machine and start sending the Pope’s quote back to him. Kim will be getting a taste of his own medicine. It takes more than an hour to send it all.
    Meanwhile, I read a bit more in Paul’s book. He actually mentions the Pope. Paul writes that the Pope is fond of the Big Bang theory. The Pope claims to see the hand of God in all of it. He thinks the theory is definitely compatible with the idea of a Creation. God was behind the Big Bang. It’s ingenious. The Pope must have been happy when he came up with it. It’ll be exciting to hear what he has to say when it all starts to contract. Maybe he’ll fall silent.
    I tear off a piece of the fax and hang the quote over my bed. It could be good to look at when I wake up in the morning. Catholic or not. Tomorrow I’m going to buy a Volvo.

Elevator
    I’m on my way to the Volvo shop, but I’ve cycled an alternative route taking me past a big, multi-storey hotel. Now I’m standing in the elevator. I am riding up and down. I’ve been standing here almost three-quarters of an hour. Every time I come down I press the top button, and when I get up top I press the bottom one. People are coming on and going off all the time, but no-one comments on my standing here.
    Once in a while when I was younger, we would cycle over to some apartment blocks after school. We used to call them the tower blocks. All the naughty kids lived there. Those who had brothers who were older than us and who went to Sweden every Friday to buy firecrackers and wet-snuff and beer. Everyone who lived in the tower blocks had seen porn movies before they reached school age.
    There were wild stories about some of the older brothers projecting porn movies in Super-8 format onto the wall next to the mailboxes. Movies where two ladies would spill champagne over a man so that he had to take all his clothes off. Be that as it may. But these blocks had great elevators.
    We went there to ride the elevators. It was a high-risk activity. For some reason they didn’t allow us to ride elevators. We weren’t allowed. It was completely unreasonable. Nobody should deprive children of riding in elevators. But all the old ladies would scream and shout and call the police and the janitor would come and chase us. We got a kick every time.
    Elevators are brilliant. I’m going to stand here a little longer. The good thing about riding in an elevator as a grown-up is that nobody questions my being in the elevator. Nobody suspects me of just riding the elevator. I look like I’m one of the others.
    Now a young woman is entering the elevator. She’s going down. I stand there looking at her.
    I ask her if she’s got a boyfriend.
    She replies in English that she doesn’t understand.
    I ask her in English. Do you have a boyfriend?
    Yes, she says.
    I ask whether he’s friendly and does kind things, or if he’s not so friendly and does idiotic things.
    The woman replies that the world is more complex than I think, but that to be honest, she must admit that she’s had boyfriends who have both been friendlier and done fewer idiotic things than the one she has now.
    She asks me if I have a girlfriend.
    I tell her no, I don’t.
    She nods to herself. She seems to feel a bit sorry for me.
    When the elevator reaches the lobby, I exit and get on my bike. I’m cycling away from the hotel now.

Paul
    Still on my way to the Volvo shop, I cycle past the university. I sit down on a bench and look at all the students. They’re zooming past. My days have definitely become different. But in no way do I feel in a position to gloat.
    One day when I have more time, I’ll pop by the admin office and suggest