Arne was an engineer, his head as full of formulas, calibrations and calculations as old-fashioned Swiss watches were full of gears and cogs. One had to hold those fine timepieces up to one’s ear to hear them tick. It was no easier to discern what moved Arne Johnson.
Except that friends knew it was Olga who had been for more than three decades his mainspring and balance-wheel in his interactions with the world. His reticence belied his rugged Nordic good looks.
The Icarus Anthology invited submissions on the theme of Cathexis — which can be defined as “the concentration of mental energy on one particular person, idea or object (especially to an unhealthy degree). It sounded like a theme tailor-made for a short story I wrote four years ago — and apparently it was!