Reflections

Tomorrow, Obama is set to arrive in Stockholm, unless the trip is canceled due to the tense situation in Syria, but no "exceptional" individuals have given any recent "radar echoes."

Rationally, the border between imagination and reality is distinct, but the image of this border is always somewhat distorted and smudged due to a general principle of uncertainty. I have experienced things that I cannot determine whether they were real events or not. Often, I have no need to discern it, as certain events I classify as events in the gray zone, a gray zone that is almost real and also exploitable.

My first job after high school was at SRA, Swedish Radio Limited. After a soldering course and a final test, I began working in a department where electronic equipment for missile armament of the Draken aircraft was assembled under a license from the USA. I was sixteen years old and had a wage of around three Swedish kronor per hour. The equipment was classified, and I had to sign a confidentiality agreement. After a few months, I was dismissed.

On my last day at work, I didn't know I would never return. I remember feeling unusually relaxed and content. Instead of packing up, cleaning, and standing by the time clock waiting, which was the usual routine for me and my colleagues, I took it easy and gathered materials for the next day. When I left the workplace, there were only me and one other person left, who walked just behind me toward the stairs. Even before I made it out onto the street, I started feeling ill but managed to make it to Fridhemsplan's subway station with great effort. I got a seat, and after a few stations, I vomited on the floor of the crowded train. I only woke up by chance when I was supposed to get off. I was sick for several days afterward, and for some reason, I never called to report myself sick, which became the reason for my dismissal.

A year later, I applied to college but had grades that were not good enough, and I didn't get in. Once the term had started, someone called and said that I might be able to get a spot that had become vacant at Vasa Gymnasium. That same evening, I met the headmaster of the school. He was dressed in a uniform and sat behind a desk, looking at my application. He explained his officer's uniform by saying he was about to begin military service, but he wanted to complete the intake process first. He had chosen me because I had good grades in chemistry and believed it indicated an aptitude for studying. I joined the classes the next day but never saw my benefactor at the school again.