He was not tall, but he was built as if they had taken the size out of him in order to turn it into density. His shoulders were broad, but not heavy; his waist was narrow, and his posture had that peculiar uprightness that does not seem proud, but functional \u2013 as if the back were a principle. He wore dark, simple training clothes, no colorfulness, no brand, and yet you could see at once: This is a man who does not possess his body like a garment, but like a work.<\/p>\n
His face was not youthful, but it was smooth in a way that did not seem cosmetic, but disciplined. The eyes were clear. They did not look friendly, they looked precise. And in the corner of his mouth there was something that could be read as a smile, if you wanted \u2013 but you had to want to.<\/p>\n
Dr. AuDHS said, as in a handover:<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Castorp. This is Prof. Zieser.\u201d<\/p>\n
Zieser extended his hand to Hans Castorp, brief, dry, without pressure play.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Castorp,\u201d he said. \u201cPleased to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp said, as he had learned:<\/p>\n
\u201cGood morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Zieser nodded and said, as if it were a greeting and a diagnosis at the same time:<\/p>\n
\u201cMeasure what matters.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp blinked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2026\u201d he began.<\/p>\n
Zieser raised his hand, as if he wanted to turn the explanation back into action at once.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are at a loss,\u201d he said, without reproach. \u201cGood. Being at a loss is the beginning of every order.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dr. AuDHS smiled as if he had expected exactly that.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll leave you,\u201d said Dr. AuDHS, and in his tone there was the quiet enjoyment of handing someone over into a system. \u201cFrank. He\u2019ll take over.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he left, and for a moment Hans Castorp had the feeling that the cube had become airless, because the essay voice had disappeared and only the craftsman remained.<\/p>\n
Zieser looked at Hans Castorp.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have never really trained with the barbell?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp hesitated. He did not want to seem like a beginner. And yet he was one.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot\u2026 really,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Zieser nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cEven Pippi Longstocking knew,\u201d he said, and the sentence, as unedifyingly childish as it was, suited him precisely because it did not suit him: \u201cI have never done that before, so I\u2019m sure I can do it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp had to smile. It was a genuine smile, and he was annoyed by it, because it had already wrapped him up a little.<\/p>\n
\u201cKeep it simple,\u201d said Zieser and walked ahead into the white area.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp followed him.<\/p>\n
The rack stood there like a scaffold, and the bar lay in it like a line that one has to cross. On the wall there was a screen that glowed silently, as if it were waiting to register something. Next to it a small shelf: collars, plates, a stick. And on a bench lay \u2013 as if it were the most modern form of the curve \u2013 a logbook.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnalog?\u201d asked Hans Castorp, surprised.<\/p>\n
Zieser took the book, opened it, and you could see that it was already written in, in a clear handwriting that did not want to be beautiful, but legible.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho writes, remains,\u201d said Zieser.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt how the word remains went into his chest, because it touched something that had nothing to do with training.<\/p>\n
Zieser placed the logbook on the bench.<\/p>\n
\u201cRule one,\u201d he said. \u201cA set is only finished when it is noted. Otherwise it is only feeling. And feeling is\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201c\u2026smearable,\u201d said Hans Castorp, and he did not know why he said the word; but he thought of his little wooden stick, of the night, of the fogging of a window.<\/p>\n
Zieser looked at him briefly, as if he were checking whether there was more than muscle.<\/p>\n
\u201cExactly,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd we do not train smearing. We train repeating.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what about\u2026\u201d He searched. \u201c\u2026hypertrophy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Zieser pointed to the body as if it were the simplest answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cMuscle building is simple,\u201d he said. Then he paused longer than necessary, so that the second part came like a verdict: \u201cbut hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp nodded. He was not sure whether he agreed or surrendered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll briefly explain the logic to you,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cThen we do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo,\u201d repeated Hans Castorp.<\/p>\n
\u201cFirst things first,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cSecond things never.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp did not know what that was supposed to mean. But he felt that it announced an order.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree days,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cPush, legs, pull. Three patterns. And in each pattern: i5.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201ci5?\u201d asked Hans Castorp.<\/p>\n
\u201cIntensity 5 out of 5: king set,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cAlso called descending pyramid. Eight, ten, twelve. Heavy, lighter, even lighter. The first set is the king. The rest is discipline.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp looked at the bar.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if I\u2026\u201d he began.<\/p>\n
Zieser raised his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you really want something, you\u2019ll find a way,\u201d he said, and his voice did not get louder, only harder. \u201cOtherwise an excuse.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt the excuses rise in his throat \u2013 age, unfamiliarity, caution \u2013 and at the same time how ridiculous they seemed next to the metal.<\/p>\n
\u201cRight here, right now,\u201d said Zieser quietly. And then: \u201cWarm-up.\u201d<\/p>\n
He took the stick, handed it to Hans, and Hans Castorp held it the way you hold a foreign object: carefully, as if it could mean something.<\/p>\n
\u201cShoulder circles,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cWide. Then narrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp made the movement, and it was astonishing how quickly the body understands what it is supposed to do when you give it a direction. The stick rolled in his hands. Nothing grated, it only cracked softly, like an old house.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree backwards, three forwards,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cSlow. Don\u2019t prove. Wake up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp thought: Wake up \u2013 as if you had muscles that sleep.<\/p>\n
Then came the stretch with the stick behind the back. Hands closer, hold.<\/p>\n
\u201cFive,\u201d said Zieser.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp held.<\/p>\n
\u201cFour.\u201d<\/p>\n
He held.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree.\u201d<\/p>\n
He felt how the pulling in his shoulders was a kind of truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOne.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a small countdown, and Hans Castorp found it strangely comforting. Time that you can count is less threatening than time that simply passes.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood,\u201d said Zieser. \u201cNow bench.\u201d<\/p>\n