Alexandra Haas / Guido Becker

Already 12:30! - she wakes up with a start and realizes that she has fallen asleep sitting at her desk. Working all night, she had tried to finish one hundred different things before leaving for Achill Island. If I don't hurry immensely, I don't have to worry about getting my work done, she thinks. Jumping up, she rushes to the bathroom and tries to tame her stubborn curls into something vaguely resembling a proper hairdo. After putting on her red red sneakers, she grabs her bag, locks the door, and starts to jog towards the nearest subway station, 'University'.
Arriving at the entrance of the subway station, she glances quickly at the statue of "Regina Pacis", presiding over the main entrance of the university building. But no time to lose - she rushes down the long escalator into the rather dimly lit subway station. On the platform, there is only one more person, a pale young man with very dark hair, who looks a bit lost. He studies the timetable intently. Seems to be in a hurry as well, she thinks. But with a bit of luck I'll still catch the 14:02 Thalys to Cologne. Totally exhausted, she flings herself into one of the seats, and fights not to doze off.
The emergency breaks screech. The body that hits the front of the subway train makes a dull, hardly audible sound. The mortal remains are splattered over the rails, the platform and a huge billboard attached to the station wall. "Blood, Sweat and Tears. Greatest Hits." Screaming, she awakes, a man shaking her shoulder. It's the dark-haired guy, she thinks, but then realises that this man is older.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I think I dreamt of the suicide in the black station ten days ago." The man nods. He must be about 35 years old. He is wearing worn-out shoes, a pair of dark-blue corduroy trousers, and a grey wind-cheater. Although his clothes are clean, he appears to be unkempt. He has not shaved for several days, and his hair needs to be washed. She catches the scent of alcohol.
"My name is Hague", he says, and she, without thinking, "My name's Alexandra."
"Well, Alexandra, green's the colour of hope". "What?" She looks around the dirty underground station. Everything is green, light green for the walls and electronic displays, dark green for the floor, dustbins and seats. The two of them are alone on the platform. Where is the pale, dark-haired guy? she wonders. Her right hand feels for the irritant gas aerosol that is in her coat pocket.
"I want to tell the world that the incident in the black station wasn't suicide but murder." The man draws himself up to his full height and observes the young woman to see what effect his emphatic words have had on her. She shakes her head.
"That's impossible. I saw the video recording on one of those reality TV shows." She casts a glance at the surveillance cameras. "She was alone on the platform. Nobody pushed her."
"You'll see, my dear. But, please, sit down again." His right hand points to the row of seats attached to the station wall. Hesitantly, she follows his request and takes the seat next to he bag. Hague plants himself in front of her. "I'm a scientist, you know."
"I know you're a psychologist. You work as assistant lecturer at the university. You specialise in social psychology. I remember seeing your name on some announcements."
"What a memory." He nods approvingly. "I think you're just the right person."
"Right person for what?"
"Soon, my dear, soon."
He starts to walk up and down the edge of the platform, only a few steps in each direction, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "As a scientist, I set up a hypothesis, and to test whether my hypothesis is correct or not, I have to draw up experiments. Some experiments fail, others don't. Thus, I'm able to get closer to the truth step by step. The trouble is that I don't work with white mice but instead with human beings. I must not harm my material with my experiments."
"But you did?"
He turns around and looks her in the face. "All the subway stations of Bonn are painted in different colours, one entirely blue, one green, one yellow, one even black, and so on. Why do you think that is so?" She is puzzled. "The colours of life, both bright and gloomy. Pure colours. The rainbow and more. Everyone knows the slogans." He laughs contemptuously. "That's rubbish cooked up as an explanation for the public. Alexandra, at this very moment you're part of a huge psychological experiment yourself. Look around you." He spread his arms. "This is the ideal set-up. Down here is isolated from the muddle up there, and nobody minds the surveillance cameras recording data. These are real-life conditions." Hague gets a little exited.
She interrupts him, "What kind of experiment?"
"Colours influence people's behaviour. In a yellow environment you feel different than in a red one. Therefore you act differently. That was the thesis I wanted to test out. I wanted to be able to create ideal environments for different situations. Just think of it: this city has quite a few subway stations, all equipped with surveillance cameras. A lot of people waiting for trains every day, in the morning, in the evening, in small groups, big groups, or alone. There are children, pensioners, men and women, all of them in the same set-up, the same conditions, except for the colour. What a great mass of data!" He really is excited now.
She cuts in. "But something went wrong?"
He pauses and runs his fingers through his hair, swallowing several times. Now he is all of a tremble. "I was so much taken by my project, that I didn't think of the risks. I had the chance to create a huge experiment under real-life conditions, no playing around in laboratories. When the subway stations were due for renovation, I was able to convince the transport authorities to grant me permission to carry out my scheme. I promised them fame. It was supposed to be a scientific breakthrough. I, too, wanted to become famous. I dreamt of Oxford and Harvard." He looks down at his feet at the edge of the platform and starts crying. "I didn't want to harm anybody, and now I've killed someone!"
She feels more and more uncomfortable with the desperate psychologist on the edge of the underground platform. A chime signals the arrival of a train. "Please, Mr Hague, please!" She jumps up. "Cool down, cool down and get away from the edge, please! Please!"
"Don't come any nearer! Alexandra, colours do influence people's behaviour. The influence was so strong that in the black station some psychologically weak person committed suicide. I should have known the danger, but I failed. It is my responsibility, but I won't steal away. I won't steal away! I want you to tell the world! I want you to stir up trouble! I'm not the only scientist doing experiments on harmless train passengers!" He relaxes a little bit. A faint smile appears. "Green's the colour of hope, Alexandra."
The emergency breaks screech. The body that hits the front of the subway train makes a dull, hardly audible sound. The mortal remains are splattered over the rails, the platform, the crying young woman and a huge billboard attached to the station wall. "Blood, Sweat and Tears. Greatest Hits."
Screaming out, she awakes, a man shaking her shoulder. It's the dark-haired guy.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I think I dreamt of the suicide in the black station ten days ago." The man looks a bit frightened, but then he nods. "I was just about to wake you up because the train is coming. Then all of a sudden you screamed." He turns around and fetches his luggage.
She picks up her bag and gets onto the light green subway train. What a nightmare! I'll be totally exhausted before I'm even on the Thalys to Brussels, she thinks, sinking into a seat. But then she has to smile as she realises that the seats, too, are green. "Green's the colour of hope", very well. Still, she makes sure that she doesn't fall asleep again, no matter how tired she is.
An hour later, the train gets into Cologne five minutes before the departure of her train. She rushes upstairs, and, yes, there's the train, still on the platform. Right before she enters the train, she catches a glimpse of a guy who looks a lot like her dark-haired train companion, coming up the escalator at the other end of the platform. So we are fellow travellers, after all, she thinks, casting a last look over her shoulder - and nearly bumps into a tall blonde who comes rushing along the corridor. Ducking, she tries to dive underneath the woman's arm, trying not to run into her, or trample on her feet. After gaining back her balance, she tries to apologise, but the woman doesn't even seem to have noticed. Seeing an empty compartment on her right, she opens the door, packs her bag on the luggage rack and sits down opposite a dark haired man with a moustache. Red seats this time. What a day, she thinks.