Join the new world

I had been in Denmark for a few days now. The situation was different from what I had been used to. Almost everything was scarce, there was no way back now - since moving tickets weren't on the market. We were poor, but free - and happy. Times might have been tough, but this was what we had been fighting for.

As I walked into the local market, in order to get my hand on some of those cigarettes (they clearly included other substances than tobacco), I saw the merchants standing in their small stalls. Their eyes were tired, faces filled with dust. A few of them had prepared well for the hard times - bringing enough moving tickets to make sure that they could get their hands on whatever they could sell. A few of them did however not have such choices. Now, they were stuck here. Brave, young and forced to sell what they could produce of the land - and whatever exporters could bring into the country.

Cigarettes weren't easy to get their hands on. I had lost contact with Grev Per, since he was too busy trying to run the country. I couldn't even get a hold of him on his private line. My skills of noticing strange people in a huge crowd would surely come to use at a time like this. None were in sight, no matter how far I glanced in any direction. I started to move around, looking for the shadiest place imaginable. Eventually I found it. However, when I did I started to ask myself just how bad I wanted those damn cigarettes. In almost the exact same instant the thought ran into my mind, a shivering pain filled me up. I couldn't focus on anything but my urge to get my hands on them, and so I ventured forwards into the open sewer hatch.

While climbing down the pain started to ease of. Where did the pain come from? Could it have been something in the cigarettes? The stench rutting mass filled my nostrils and another shiver came about. At the end of the stinking tunnel I was able to make out light. Looking around me I realized that was the only way I actually could see where I was going. I lost count of how many dead rats I stepped on while making my way there.

The light proved to be a fire, burning inside an empty barrel. A man stood guard by it, warming his hands - a Q2 Assault Rifle hanging from his shoulder. He hadn't spotted me yet, so I decided to get whatever look I could of the place before making myself noticed. I counted three others; one lying on an old bed - two others by a table, playing cards. They didn't seem to pack enough firepower to take me down if I was thrown into a gunfight, so I stepped towards the guards with my hands clearly visible.

"Hey! Got any cigarettes?", I said. The guard quickly grabbed his rifle and pointed it towards me. "It's okay! I'm only here for smokes!". Calming him down seemed to work. He lowered his rifle, and started to should to his comrades. One of them approached me.
"Hey. Got any smokes to spare?"
"I might have. But I want something in return"
"How much?"
"Not how much. How many."
He started explaining himself. He was one of the collaborators, one who accepted the Swede's invasion. According to the official story, these guys were the lowest scum on earth - to be shot on sight. But even the slightest chance of getting my hands on cigarettes made me willing to listen to his offer. He wanted out. Leave Denmark, and all her misery. He had not been prepared though, and didn't have a single moving ticket. The deal was to get the entire crew out - clean. Two full cartons of smokes would be mine upon delivery. This deal was too good to refuse. And it did give me a chance to have some excitement.

Suddenly, my legs gave out. Something clearly was missing inside of me, and I could only think of one thing. "Please... need... smoke...!!". He knelled before me with a pack in his hands, as my nerve system was grasping for control. "Will you accept the deal?"
"YES, YES! Please!" I had no power to fight it. It was now or never.

It took me three cigarettes to get me back on my feet. The third one was in the corner of my mouth as I made a international collect-call. To Sweden. I could hear him as he started to roar in the other end. "Yes, it's me... I'm in Denmark now... Yes, it's free. What? No, fuck that! Listen, I need you to come over here. I've got a new gig... No, it's completely diffrent, nothing like the last... Hey, hey! No need for the attitude! Just call me when you're on the train, ok? Allright."

It's hard having a discussion with a Panda bear. Especially if he's on a go-kart all of the fucking time. I opened my cooling bag, took up one of my home made raspberry ice-creams and started walking. What was up with these cigarettes?