Читать книгу Elefant - Jamie Bulloch - Страница 18

To begin with he thought the old man next to him was talking to the guy opposite, but then Schoch realised that both of them were talking to themselves. One he knew by sight, the other even by name: Ormalinger. He used to be with the dog lovers. He’d owned a large, shaggy mongrel, a ‘Giant Schnauzer-Alsatian’, as he used to call it. One evening during Carnival the animal had bitten a five-year-old dressed as Darth Vader, who’d threatened it with a light sabre. The injury was only slight, but the ‘Giant Schnauzer-Alsatian’ had been impounded and put down, which turned the alcoholic into a severe alcoholic. Schoch hadn’t realised, however, that Ormalinger had now reached the stage of chatting away to himself unintelligibly.

He nodded, but Ormalinger didn’t react. He probably couldn’t remember Schoch.

The AlcOven was an institution for cases so hopeless that it had given up stopping them from drinking. Although no alcohol was offered for sale, visitors were permitted to bring their own wine and beer. And the management couldn’t prevent people sharing the drinks they’d brought with others, nor stop money being exchanged under the table for such generosity.

There were a few who earned a bit of cash selling beer and wine at a slight profit to those who were stranded and couldn’t summon the energy to make it to the nearby CONSU. When the weather was as bad as today, business was good. A lot of passing trade had joined the regulars: homeless people simply escaping from the rain. The dining room was jam-packed and everyone was drinking.

Everyone except Schoch, who wasn’t consuming anything liquid apart from a bowl of free soup.

This he managed without a problem.

Which meant he wasn’t dependent.

The next time one of the sellers offered him a beer he took it.

To combat the boredom.