C4 antho - Chamber Four

American Subsidiary
_________________
by William Pierce
from Granta
One spring morning―it was early May, and sunlight had
just reached the ivy at his shoulder―Joseph Stone leaped up
at his boss’s call, then slowly, so as not to remind himself of
Pavlov’s dog, tucked his chair back under the shelf that held
his keyboard.
He did not have far to go: three steps, four at most, took
him from his cubicle to Peter Halsa’s pale, wood door.
“Entschuldigung?” he asked, pronouncing the German
word slackly, as any American would. “Excuse me?”
Herr Halsa was drying the inside of his ear with a white
hand towel. This was nothing strange. It had seemed unusual
at first, months ago, but then Joseph had asked himself why
certain behaviors should be off-limits at work, especially to
the boss. He tugged at his nose, waiting for Herr Halsa’s answer.
He felt only mildly ridiculous thinking of his boss as
Herr Halsa. Everyone else was required to use formal German
address, and it seemed right, though he’d explicitly
been asked to call him Peter, that Joseph not call too much
attention to what was already unpleasantly obvious: the gratifying
fact that his boss relied on him utterly.
Herr Halsa lifted his head, looked up―he was now drying
the nape of his neck, having apparently rushed from
home with his head still wet―and grunted in a German way
that pleased Joseph, because it meant again that Joseph
worked at a German company, among Germans, who might
at any time release deep, Bavarian grunts.