Below, at the edge of the reception hall, stood Kautsonik.<\/p>\n
He did not stand, he was there; like a piece of furniture that can speak. His suit fit perfectly, his posture was that old-hotel-like mixture of servility and dignity, and you could sense that this man, if you took the sun away from him, would still remain standing in the lobby, because standing had become his profession and his character.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Castorp,\u201d said Kautsonik and inclined his head, as if even nodding were a ritual.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp nodded back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m going out for a bit,\u201d he said, and it sounded as if in this house one even had to register walking.<\/p>\n
Kautsonik smiled dryly.<\/p>\n
\u201cVery good,\u201d he said. \u201cMovement is important. Sitting is the new smoking, they say.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp had to laugh, quietly. It was funny to hear these sentences from Zieser\u2019s mouth, from Porsche\u2019s mouth, from AuDHS\u2019 mouth \u2013 and now from Kautsonik\u2019s mouth, as if they were common property, like salt.<\/p>\n
Kautsonik looked at Hans\u2019 hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe ring,\u201d he said. \u201cFancy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp felt the reflex to hide his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt measures,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Kautsonik. \u201cEverything measures. We even measure joy. You know: feedback forms.\u201d<\/p>\n
He paused briefly, and in this pause lay what in hotels is called discreet seriousness.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly,\u201d he then said, \u201cif something is ever missing\u2026\u201d He raised his eyebrows. \u201c\u2026then the system asks. Not me. The system.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is missing?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
Kautsonik shrugged his shoulders.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing,\u201d he said. \u201cNothing yet. I\u2019m only saying it because I am a friendly person. Guest Relations, not Gestapo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said it again, and again it was funny, and again there was a chill in the background.<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoy to him who comes,\u201d he said softly, more to himself than to Kautsonik.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Kautsonik. \u201cAnd joy to him who goes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hans Castorp nodded, and this time the nod was not just politeness, but a decision.<\/p>\n
He went.<\/p>\n