Polina was an entirely insufferable person. She happened to have a few special abilities, for example this cursed photographic memory, which would have been useful in a magic act but not in an office and not even in the world of creative people, because the creative world, like any other socioeconomic stratum, is full to overflowing with carefully polished posturing. Fortunately Polina had her cat, her bar cabinet, and her books. Or should things be arranged differently in the name of truthfulness: bar cabinet, books, and cat? The significance of the cat was great, though. Every morning Begemot meowed and butted his drowsy mistress into a good mood, meooow! His lovely shining black coat and the slender, strong frame that slid beneath (he mainly ate raw entrails like liver) felt so good under a crapulous hand, so very good. Yes, her cat was dear to Polina, the dearest of all, so the final order is this: cat, bar cabinet, and books. The bar cabinet has to be put there in the middle because there were no books without alcohol, as we know, although we also know that if Polina had been forced to put a tick mark next to either the bar cabinet or books in a multiple choice questionnaire, concerning the most significant things in her life, of course she would have ticked the books, since they had intrinsic value, and alcohol only had significance as part of her reading ritual.
Let this introduction suffice for Polina’s special gift, her monstrous photographic memory, of which we receive the following indisputable evidence:
“‘It may therefore be stated in advance that of the Lord’s Divine mercy it has been granted me now for some years to be constantly and uninterruptedly in company with spirits and angels, hearing them speak and in turn speaking with them. In this way it has been given me to hear and see wonderful things in the other life which have never before come to the knowledge of any man, nor into his idea.’ Thus wrote Swedenborg in the introduction to his Arcana, a work of which only four copies were sold during his lifetime, one of which was purchased by Immanuel Kant. Kant read the book and was deeply disappointed, because he did not find any evidence of the spirit world in it. A hypochondriac wind raging in a delirious mystic was Kant’s evaluation.
“So was Swedenborg insane? Or was he a great, misunderstood poet? Due to his high social status, he wasn’t shut up in an asylum, although apparently that option did receive serious consideration. I, on the other hand, would say that we, dear women, are in a unique position among the critics of Swedenborg’s celestial visions. So I propose that once I’ve given you a basic overview of his ideas, we vote as we just did about the couch and the flying carpet, about whether Swedenborg was right or wrong when he wrote about the afterlife. What do you say?”
Should Polina have become a teacher? Damn it to hell, she knew how to talk! Had she made the mistake of her life when she made the safe choice of business education, which had only led her to a fair-weather camaraderie with pleasantly incorruptible yet depressingly emotionless numbers? Perhaps she should have worked with children! Polina clearly had a talent for engaging an audience, assuming the audience was primed before her, as it now is (and as well-bred students are).
What Polina hasn’t noticed is that she is talking about Swedenborg in her own language, not English. And everyone seems to understand although no one else knows a word of Russian. Nina nods, and soon all the others are nodding; Polina’s suggestion of a vote is an idea they could support. Wlibgis has sat up from under her wig, and Maimuna has opened her eyes again and doesn’t look at all angry now. There the women sit, gawking like obedient little girls eager to learn. All that is missing from the picture are partings running down the middle of their heads, tight plaits, and bright red bows.
“Emanuel, eldest son of the chaplain Jesper Svedberg and Sara Behm, got along famously in the company of the royal family,” Polina continues self-confidently, downright beaming, “and he even competed in philosophy with his friend Charles XII. So Queen Ulrika Eleonora elevated Swedenborg, not forgetting his sisters and brothers, to the nobility in 1719. That was how Svedberg became Swedenborg. The family had mining interests, which Emanuel inherited when he was thirty-two, after which he no longer had any financial worries. Quite a nice starting point for erecting the architecture of the heavens, wouldn’t you say!
“Swedenborg was a product of the University of Uppsala, and his colleagues included Carl von Linné (the king of taxonomy!) and Anders Celsius (the thermometer!). So you could say that he matured intellectually in extremely elevated company. His own subjects were geometry, metals, and chemistry, but of course he practiced other skills such as mechanics, mathematics, and astronomy. He advanced the understanding of hydrology and attempted to solve the hottest scientific problem of the day, how to determine longitude at sea. He didn’t get anywhere near a solution but, proud as he was, refused to admit his failure.
“Swedenborg’s skill and especially the subjects of his interest were not insignificant. He bound books, ground lenses, did clever engravings, made furniture, and even tried his hand at clock making. Fourteen inventions can also be credited to him, including a universal musical instrument, a notable flying machine design, and a less notable submarine design. In my opinion his most fascinating invention was the analytical method he developed for ‘predicting desires and emotions’. Unfortunately little record of this bright
