Cryptonomicon

"Don't be such a defeatist, Bobby," says Bischoff, diving into a hearty fisherman's sweater. "Normally you are not like this. What is troubling you?"

Glory.It is October and the days are growing short. Shaftoe and Bischoff, both mired in the yet-to-be-discovered emotional dumps of Seasonal Affective Disorder, are like two brothers trapped in the same pit of quicksand, each keeping a sharp eye on the other.

"Eh? Was ist los,buddy?"

"Guess I'm just feeling at loose ends."

"You need an adventure. Let's go!"

"I need an adventure like Hitler needs an ugly little toothbrush mustache," says Bobby Shaftoe. But he drags himself up out of his chair and follows Bischoff out the door.

***

Shaftoe and Bischoff are trudging through the dark Swedish woods like a pair of lost souls trying to find the side entrance to Limbo. They take turns carrying the kerosene lantern, which has an effective range about as long as a grown man's arm. Sometimes they go for a whole hour without talking, each man alone with his own struggle against suicidal depression. Then one of them (usually Bischoff) will perk up and say something, like:

"Haven't seen Enoch Root recently. What has he been up to since he finished curing you of your morphine addiction?" Bischoff asks.

"Don't know. He was such a fucking pain in the ass during that project that I never wanted to see him again. But I think he got a Russian radio transmitter from Otto and took it into that church basement where he lives; he's been messing around with it ever since."

"Yes. I remember. He was changing the frequencies. Did he ever get it to work?"

"Beats me," Shaftoe says, "but when big pieces of burning shit start falling out of the sky in my neighborhood, makes me wonder."

"Yes. Also he goes to the post office quite frequently," Bischoff says. "I chatted with him there once. He is carrying on a heavy correspondence with others around the world."

"Other what?"

"That is my question, too."

Eventually they find the wreck only by following the sound of a hacksaw, which reverberates through the pines like the shriek of some extraordinarily stupid and horny bird. This enables them to home in on it in a general way. Final coordinates are provided by a sudden, strobelike flashing light, devastating noise, and a sap-scented rain of amputated foliage. Shaftoe and Bischoff both hit the dirt and lie there listening to fat pistol slugs ricocheting from tree trunk to tree trunk. The hacksawing noise continues with no break in rhythm.

Bischoff starts talking Swedish, but Shaftoe shushes him. "That was a Suomi," he says. "Hey, Julieta! Knock it off! It's just me and Günter."

There is no answer. Then, Shaftoe remembers that he has recently fucked Julieta, and therefore needs to remember his manners. "Excuse me, ma'am," he says, "but I gather from the sound of your weapon that you are of the Finnish nation, for which I have unbounded admiration, and I wanted to let you know that I, former Sergeant Robert Shaftoe, and my friend, former Kapitänleutnant Günter Bischoff, mean you no harm."

Julieta, homing in on the sound of his voice in the darkness, responds with a controlled burst of fire that passes about a foot over Bobby Shaftoe's head. "Don't you belong in Manila?" she asks.

Shaftoe groans, and rolls over on his back as if he has been shot in the gut.

"What does she mean by this?" asks the bewildered Günter Bischoff. Seeing that his friend has been (emotionally) incapacitated, he tries: "This is Sweden, a peaceful and neutral country! Why are you trying to machine-gun us?"

"Go away!" Julieta must be with Otto, because they hear her talk to him before saying, "We do not want representatives of the American Marines and the Wehrmacht here. You are not welcome."

"Sounds like you are sawing away on something that is pretty damn heavy," Shaftoe finally retorts. "How you gonna haul it out of these woods?"

This leads to an animated conversation between Julieta and Otto. "You may approach," Julieta finally says.

They find the Kivistiks, Julieta and Otto, standing in a pool of lantern-light around the severed, charred wing of an airplane. Most Finns are hard to tell apart from Swedes, but Otto and Julieta both have black hair and black eyes, and could pass for Turks. The tip of the airplane wing is painted with the black-and-white cross of the Luftwaffe. An engine is mounted to that wing. If Otto's hacksaw has its way, it won't be for much longer. The engine has recently been set on fire and then used to knock down a large number of pine trees. But even so Shaftoe can see it's like no engine he has ever seen before. There is no propeller, but there are a lot of little fan blades.