AN: this is not the end! And of course, I don't own anything that isn't already owned by Disney.
AN II: Nor do I own anything already owned by Warsteiner, Lufthansa Airlines, the University of Stuttgart, the Stuttgart Football Club, the Boeing Company, Remington Firearms, Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, and/or G. Schirmer Music Publishing.
FÜNFUNDDREIβIG
Es war ein Traum
Where am I? Hermann didn't know. He was standing by himself, surrounded on each side by two lines of people. He reached up to scratch his head, and felt that he had his graduation cap on, the black mortar board he had worn the day he received his diploma. Then he looked down at the rest of himself, and sure enough, there was an academic robe, under which was his gray coat complete with university insignia; his gray trousers, shined black shoes…commencement attire down to a tee. For a moment, Hermann thought he was re-living his graduation, but if his surroundings told him anything at all, they proved quite clearly that he was not on the grounds of his university, or even anywhere near it. In front of him was a large, wide stone building decorated with Corinthian columns, the words Dem deutscher Volke across the front of the overhang. A staircase, flanked by low stone walls, sloped gently upward to the base of the columns, in front which stood three tall flagpoles. And then, all in an instant and entirely on its own, Hermann's mind pieced his location together:
Berlin.
He was outside the Bundestag, a building he recognized from seeing it in pictures hundreds of times, but never actually in person. And he recognized the flagpole trio standing in front of it: on the left pole, just as in the newspapers and schoolbooks, was the navy blue flag of the European Union, while the right hand pole sported the familiar flag of Germany. The standard flying between these two banners, however, was of a design that Hermann had never seen. It contained the same colors as the flag of Germany—black, red, and yellow—but the colored stripes were not horizontal, nor were they oriented vertically. Hermann didn't need to consciously eliminate Germany and Belgium as possibilities, as a line of white text, Königreich Priderländer, across the flag's lower half had already done that for him.
Now he was just as confused as he had been before. What was really going on here? Why were all these people standing and staring at him? Why was he in Berlin, and dressed in such a strange way? Where had that Pride Lands flag come from...who had designed it? What was it doing here, and why were the words on it written in German, the language of a country an entire continent away from Pride Rock? If someone had come out of the crowd at that very moment and announced himself a crewmember for Candid Camera, everything might have made a modicum of sense, but no such person was to be found.
He took a step forward and noticed something else: no cane, and no limp, no halting or hanging up in his stride. Wondering if his mind was simply playing tricks on him, he took another step, and then another, and finally put all his weight onto his right foot. Hermann waited, expecting something that never came; the all-too-familiar feeling of pain and discomfort that was almost always present couldn't be bothered to make an appearance. As he was contemplating why his leg felt so inexplicably sound, a small group emerged from the entrance of the Bundestag and walked down the flight of stairs. They were some distance away, but Hermann could still see who they were: on the far left was Friedrich Ross, who stood beside the mayor of Stuttgart. The man on the far right was Leonard Friedlander, a veteran physician Hermann recognized from the hospital's board; to his right was the commander of the armed forces, and in the exact middle was a well-dressed, official-looking lady…the Chancellor herself. "Doctor Hermann Sterlitz, please come forward," she said into a microphone.
Hermann, dumbstruck, did as was asked of him. He moved slowly at first, but as he began to realize that his leg was giving him no trouble whatsoever, he gradually quickened to a brisk walk, and then almost to a jog (which looked rather impressive in full scholastic dress). The long lines of onlookers to his left and right remained completely silent. Hermann still didn't know what to say, or what to think. He knew where he was, but he didn't know why, nor could he make heads or tails of why Friedrich, now dead almost three weeks from a letter bomb blast, was standing in front of him and looking very much alive. Naturally, the first words Hermann spoke when he arrived at the top of the steps were those of a question:
"May I have a brief word with my professor, Madam Chancellor?"
"Of course," the lady replied. "As many words as you please." Hermann nodded gratefully and sidestepped a few paces to the left. Friedrich was still looking at him, waiting for his ever-trustful student to say something.
"Are you…a ghost?" Hermann asked.
"A ghost? Me?" Friedrich said. "Of course not! There's no such thing as ghosts."
"So what are you, then? You're the only one here who isn't, well…alive."
"I'm a memory. A recollection: myself, exactly as you remember me. This is a dream, as I suspect you've realized by now; a dream where of all your most fervent desires have been realized."
"A parallel reality? Like the kind in the movies?"
"Sort of, but not quite. This time, you're in a world where you control everything that happens. But there's a catch, you see; your surface impulses and wants aren't what are driving the machine."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Perhaps it would be better to just show you. Right now, wish with all your might for a big stack of cash."
"OK, if you insist." Hermann closed his eyes and thought of a giant vault full to the brim with hundred-Euro notes, but nothing materialized. "Herr Friedrich, how is this relevant?" he said, trying with all his might to not sound completely clueless in front of all the people gathered around him.
"It's relevant because I don't see any money appearing, do you?"
"No, I think that fact has already been well established."
"Exactly. There's no money falling from the sky because that kind of desire is entirely temporal, of the conscious mind and not the subconscious mind. Only those things which you long for more than anything else—the desires of the heart—are able to make things happen here. Look around, what do you see? Start with your robe."
"It looks pretty normal to…wait, this isn't my graduation robe; it's a professor's gown! I'm a professor?"
"Yes, you are. But not in the subject you're thinking of. The last time I checked, a pink mantle and sleeves doesn't indicate a medical degree."
Hermann looked down and saw that the colors of his robe were exactly as Friedrich had described them. "I'm…a professor of music?"
"Yes, you are."
"Then why did the Chancellor just refer to me as 'Doctor'?"
"Why, that's how you address a professor."
"Yes, you're right on that; I suppose I wasn't thinking it through. So everything here is a product of my heart, of my subconscious mind…is that what you're saying?" Hermann asked slowly.
"That's the long and short of it, yes," his teacher answered.
"Including the recognition ceremony? Who abracadabra-ed this thing?"
"You, of course. Yes, I know what you're thinking, 'I've already been honored once, I don't need another go-round at the same thing,' et cetera. And you're completely right; there's no need for any of this at all. But needing something and deserving something are different matters entirely. We're all here—not just me, but this whole crowd of people—because you know, deep down inside, that you deserve all of this and more, even if you're too humble to admit it."
"But how do you know about what happened? Were you…watching me?"
"You're rather forgetful today, aren't you? Don't you remember our little nighttime dialog, right before Simba took you out to see the canyon? But yes, to answer your question, I was watching the whole time, from the moment you met Kopa and became his walking, talking raison d'être. I heard your nighttime Schubert serenades and the stories about your family; I even witnessed a rather entertaining episode one afternoon involving you, Markos, and a handful of sleeping pills."
"You saw that? Oh man…"
"Yes, and I had a good laugh over it, I'll admit. And I saw how the two of you put your own lives in danger the night Pride Rock underwent a nighttime stint as Fort Rudelfelsen—I have to hand it to your colleague, he came up with a catchy name—when you were both willing to sacrifice yourselves so that what happened to Kopa might never happen again. But if you must know, it was these last few days, those that came after your long string of heroic accomplishments, which made me the happiest."
"Why? Nothing really happened then, apart from a Schumann recital and a spur-of-the-moment wine tasting."
"No, something definitely happened, even if you didn't notice it: you finally let that notorious guard of yours drop just a bit. You let yourself smile and laugh more; you found enjoyment in the simple things in life. I'm not saying you weren't happy before, but you were even happier then."
Friedrich paused for a second or two, and then changed the subject: "I take it you can figure out why I've shown up, now that you understand how everything works here?"
"Yes," Hermann said solemnly, "that's no mystery. I want—
"You wish I weren't gone. You lost a good friend in addition to a teacher, you're not sure what you're going to do at work from now on…am I somewhere in the ballpark?"
"Not just in the ballpark; that was a home run all the way into the cheap seats."
"We cannot raise the dead, Hermann Wolfgang. As you already said once, to Nala I believe, 'If I could do that, I'd be out of a job'."
"I know, I know; I just wanted one last chance to say goodbye. That's all I ever wanted: not a second more than it would have taken to say the words 'Lebe wohl'…but I never got it."
"Correction, my boy: you never got it until now," Friedrich said with a smile. "Why do you think I'm here? Just wanting to see me again for the sake of seeing me again…that wouldn't have been enough to bring me to you, even in this world."
"I, I don't know what to say," Hermann stammered, caught off guard and desperately scrambling for words, hoping like mad that he would have more than a few seconds before the opportunity was lost for good. But this concern had not gone unknown by the man standing in front of him.
"Don't worry, I promise there's more than enough time for the two of us yet," Friedrich reassured, much to Herman's relief. "For now, though, let's not keep the Chancellor waiting any longer than she has to." Hermann nodded his head, recomposed himself, and walked back to the center of the steps; the Chancellor signaled for the man at the end of the line opposite Friedrich's to start reading from a piece of parchment manuscript.
"In most esteemed respect for his services abroad…" The paper was then passed to the left. Another person read:
"In gratitude for his dedication to the medical profession…" Again the paper was handed off to another reader, four more times in total.
"In appreciation of his willingness to place himself in harm's way, even when circumstances did not dictate that such actions were of necessity…"
"In as much admiration of his humanity and humility as of his formidable abilities in the arts of healing and music…"
"And in thanks for all that which has gone unmentioned here…"
The paper made its way back to the Chancellor, who spoke the final lines: "Be it now resolved and known this twentieth day of August that the Bundestag of the Federal Republic of Germany hereby grants this official decree of recognition to Hermann Wolfgang Sterlitz, MD, of the city of Stuttgart, Baden-Württemberg." She held the paper out to Hermann, who took it and examined the citation for himself. He saw that in the upper left corner of the page, the words Bundesrepublik Deutschland had been written in ornamented letters over the Chancellor's signature, and that in the right corner were the same words as on the flag behind him: Königreich Priderländer. Underneath, there was a second line of text in place of a signature:
Einigkeit—Recht—Freundschaft
"Those words are there because of you, Doctor Sterlitz," the Chancellor said as the honoree eyed the parchment. "'Unity, justice, friendship'…your doing. Your country is very proud of you."
"I'm honored, ma'am," Hermann said humbly. As the crowd behind him exploded into cheers and a chamber orchestra—Hermann couldn't figure out where it was—took up the national anthem, he said one final word of thanks, and then returned to face his teacher. "Whenever you're ready," Freidrich said, extending his hand.
Ever the self-conscious stoic, Hermann had every plan of shaking Friedrich's hand in return with little added fanfare, but his mind had other ideas in store. Oh, to hell with it, he quickly thought before pulling his arm back and opting instead for a full-on embrace that only drew more applause from the audience. The orchestra played the closing measures of the anthem, and for the first time since either could remember, both men addressed each other by first name only.
"Goodbye, Friedrich."
"Goodbye, Hermann." Hermann felt something tapping his shoulder. "Time for you to go." The scene dissolved, and Hermann found himself back in the cave.
"Wake up," Markos said. "We're heading home."
Evening
Hermann didn't hear any of the airport announcements as he went through the metal detector and walked, with his familiar limp, to the waiting airliner. Even when a flight attendant came by after takeoff to ask him if he wanted something to eat or drink, Hermann acted as if he were in a sound vacuum.
"Hermann, don't be rude," Markos said, seeing that his friend had not responded to the woman's question. "Answer her."
"Anything off the menu, sir?" the flight attendant repeated.
"Oh, sorry…no, thank you, not right now."
"And for you?" she asked Markos.
"The champagne looks good; I'll have some of that, please."
"Very good. I'll get it right out to you."
Bring two glasses, Markos mouthed silently as he held up his middle and index fingers in a v.
"You're awfully high-class this evening," Hermann said as the attended walked away to prepare the drinks. "What's the occasion?"
"We're flying first class all expenses paid," Markos replied. "Who wouldn't order vintage champagne on the boss's tab?"
"Just keep telling yourself that when they cut your pay in a month's time."
"Nah, they can afford it; I've seen what the Board of Directors gets to have at their monthly meetings, and it's way more expensive than what I ordered, even at airline prices. If I can't live the high life, I might as well get a taste of it here and there…especially when it doesn't cost me anything!"
"The high life? Screw that; to hell with expensive airplane seats and Chateau Lafite and three-week vacations. I've found all I need to be happy, and it doesn't involve any of those."
"Well, sort of. Without the three-week vacation, neither of us would have had our little adventure. Hell, we might not even be alive."
Markos definitely had a convincing argument, but Hermann was more interested in other things: "If this was a little adventure," he chuckled, "I'd hate to see your idea of a big one."
"You'll be back, Sterlitz," Markos reassured. You know you will, and so does Kopa."
"It still doesn't make leaving any easier. Whoever said 'parting is such sweet sorrow' was full of crap."
"That was Shakespeare."
"Then not only was he impossible to understand, he also had his head up his—
"All right already...sheesh, keep it g-rated;we've got kids on this flight! And you talk about me setting a bad example?"
"Point taken. I think your champagne is here, monsieur."
"Thanks," Markos said. "Perfect, two glasses…one for me, and one for you."
"I'm not having anything right now."
"Sure you aren't, and I'm the Pope. Raise a glass with me, it won't kill you." Reluctantly, Hermann took one of the champagne flutes. "Here's to the two of us, and our newfound family in Kenya."
"To colleagues and families," Hermann assented, smiling fondly. "Long life to us all."
Back at Pride Rock
"Kopa, come inside. It's time for you and Vitani to go to sleep."
"Mom, can't I stay for a few minutes longer? I still haven't seen anything."
"What is it you're looking for?"
"Red and green lights."
"I've never seen anything like that around here before…"
"They're up in the sky; sometimes, at night, you can see them go overhead. I guess airplanes only come out to fly after dark."