At the defense, few, but pervert people, usually coming to rip the dead bodies of the conceited ones from Bucharest. Three members of the commission seem to have read my paper, which fills me with gratitude. The fourth, a determined man of principle, crushes me with his clumsy discourse, but later, I don?t know why, agrees with giving me the title. (He doesn?t want to read by candlelight and at the same time he wants to mark his unique position so he stands reading my text by the dirty light of a window, at about 15 meters from the rest of the commission). The fifth asks a question that is deeply benevolent, but so dumb that I have to summon up all my intellectual capacity to redirect it discreetly before answering.

In the end- consternation!! Where are the restaurant, the cakes, the dance, and the party for the commission? None. I wonder myself why. It must have been poverty combined with laziness, depression, lack of interest and above all Christian pity- I don?t want to let the cardiac indulge in lethal excesses. The secretary, a very reliable woman, suggests that my doctor?s degree was a national premiere.

After this adventure, I carry my bundle alone to the train station. An old man in rags pushes me to the second class compartment. Here I notice that I am the third person who has received the same place. The boys from Railway Company are way over the line! Unless- I haven?t taken that villain train to Dej again? (133)

The Odyssey of my doctor?s degree- When I was a trainee, I was accommodated at the Party Hotel for a few days. One of my colleagues who stayed there was a scumbag. Zoe Dumitrescu-Busulenga had disclosed him in an article, he had been the main accuser in the case of Alex. Stefanescu the critic, blaming the latter to be a class enemy. Zoe Dumitrescu said NO to the Securitate (!) This scumbag, although we had been friends since university, informed the Securitate about my doctoral thesis, claiming it was not ? in line?.

Now- I like wine, I used to go with them to have a drink, my wife was still a student, so was he, he was the boyfriend of a Russian girl and his parents did not want to accept his marriage, and, being trainees, we used to go together to pubs, but I?ve always minded my business. Living nearby, he used to come and wait for me and poke his nose into my papers. In fact, he was a learned chap, the fact that he was a scumbag is one thing and his intellectual capacity another. He made an informative note about me for the Securitate, claiming that I was presenting a twisted image of the ? new man? and while accounting for the theatre of the absurd by Eugen Ionescu, I was making some quite transparent allusions to the communist society. I knew the vice-commander of the Securitate there, a very nice man, quite open-minded; he wasn?t indoctrinated.