Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,101

to make up my mind, a cat detached himself from the group of designers. I knew who he was. He’d gotten a prize for a campaign for light beer.

“Cool,” he said, shaking my paw. “Not a difficult thing. Just you, in your normal clothes.”

The cat inspected me up and down and nodded in approval.

“We drive in the studio. Backdrop. It’s raining,” he said. “You’re just standing there, like. Straight up and down. But you smile.”

“Smiling in the rain?” I asked.

“A bank for us who are tired of being run over,” the cat said. “That’s what it’s about. That’s the message.”

“Am I the one who’s been run over?” I asked.

The cat shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re the one who’s tired of being run over.”

“But I’m the one who’s been run over?”

“Bear,” said the cat, smiling amiably, “it’s possible that you’re a steamroller. But in the picture you’ll represent the one who’s tired of being run over and chooses Savings Banks’ Bank instead.”

“Banque Mollisan is better,” I said.

“I have no opinions whatsoever about that,” the cat said and went over to the others.

Assuming a role and expressing an idea in a certain question has nothing to do with evil or good. I wasn’t naïve. A photo model who depicted a bad character was not a bad animal. Investigating your dark sides was necessary if the object was to live a good life.

I don’t intend to go into that.

The point is: placing yourself in front of a camera in order to swear that the Savings Banks’ Bank was the city’s best bank had nothing to do with evil or good.

On the other hand, the consequences were impossible to accept.

Suppose someone who saw the advertisement actually believed the message. And changed to the Savings Banks’ Bank.

Making an ad, said Wolle Hare and Wolle Toad, was a job. We did our job. Those who saw the ad had to take responsibility for their own lives. To influence was neither to betray nor mislead. There were no hidden intentions. Recommending one bank before another was not a crime.

The argumentation was impeccable.

But I knew that the Savings Banks’ Bank wasn’t the best. I knew that anyone who changed banks due to the ad would not get better banking services. It was not about the photography. It was about taking responsibility for the chain of consequences that every action unleashes.

Eric helped out in my place.

We had an agreement.

Eric had no misgivings regarding advertising photography. He was the evil one. I was the good. It was a few months before the wedding with Emma Rabbit. Or a few months after. It was the start of something or a natural continuation. Eric and I got the job as head of accounting. Possibly we became head of marketing, or some other kind of manager. I have a hard time committing titles to memory.

Together we made a successful career at Wolle & Wolle.

The advertising world suited my twin brother perfectly. He surprised the trend-sensitive designers with his self-promoting attitude and his unexpected leaps of thought. He had nothing to lose. I don’t know exactly what he said or did. For obvious reasons we were never at the agency at the same time. But I’m sure that it wasn’t a matter of anything remarkable.

I was, without a doubt, the one between us who had the intellectual capacity.

Eric turned his shortcomings into advantages.

He never expressed a definite opinion about anything.

Things went fast. I was at the office one day a week. Two or three days a week. The rest of the time Eric was there. He is an extroverted animal. Seeks contact. I’m not like that at all. He found out things I’d never heard discussed. He ended up in the management group. I did, too. It became our platform.

We became good friends with Wolle Hare.

It was incomprehensible.

The hare was an animal who was certifiably hard to get close to. Nevertheless, Eric picked open his defenses as though Wolle were a cheap bicycle lock. After a few months, Eric was his closest ally.

These are not profundities we’re talking about.

The hare was convinced that the agency would go under if it didn’t expand. Eric knew nothing about business. Nevertheless he expressed his opinions. I could hear when they were talking on the phone. My ignorant twin was using words like “synergies” and “fusions.” One day he would enthusiastically promote the idea of opening a casino. The next day it might just as well be a real estate holding company.

It was pure madness.

I witnessed a careening carriage en