Nuremberg Tour 12

I need more information for my book project, so I'm at the Humanities and Social Sciences Library. As my eyes tire, I go for coffee. I'm sitting peacefully over vanilla hazelnut, when uninvited an Afghan girl sits at my table, "well now, I do recognize you, Rachel, I'm Tasma."
I nod.
"Don't be doom and gloom, in fact I'm giving you your boyfriend back."
"Just like that?"
"There is a price, he's an absolute horndog now. So, if you aren't ready for morning noon and night, he won't want you back."
I blush fiercely.
"I hit a nerve didn't I? Never before, right?"
I nod.
"Not to worry, trained him on mutual oral."
I should hate her, but somehow I don't.
"Look, I'm not a bad person. Don't think for one minute I hit on him, was him hitting on me."
I gasp, but believe her.
"Truth is, little one, he is a tedious windbag, in and out of bed. Take some woman to woman advice. Run for your life. Find someone warm, get respect, love. Don't hang around, expect the stone to grow a heart." By now, she's crying. After a moment, "thought it was love, wasn't. My brother was really obnoxious to me, for going out with a Jew. So I invented some ridiculous story to chase bro away. Don't go back to him."
I take her hand, feel the electric current between us. This is genuine, how she sees the world. Farzana had it wrong.
She wipes her eyes, "that moron can sit at his desk, typing into his laptop and demand that I blow him. How's that for cold blooded?"
And so, I tell her of the coffee dates, how it went. She's totally unsurprised, "now, go find a nice warm Jewish boy."
"But I'm not really Jewish."
"Know something? I'm not really Afghan either. World doesn't accept that. You have it lucky, just change your name and presto, you are a German."
Drily, "I'm not sure that is an improvement."
"Then be Dutch or Danish or Czech. Any story will work as long as it's several generations in the past. Let's see now, was five generations ago, the neoCommies tore down my old hometown, built a mega base. No, I don't know any of the language."
"Maybe I should, thank you for the advice."
"Is it true you passed the radar exam?"
"Oh yes."
"Talent like that, you could do anything in life, don't waste your life on morons."
Farzana questions me in considerable detail on this encounter, finally accepts my interpretation is valid. "You hafta remember, I'm a bit disconnected from Afghan doings in town, hear things third or fourth hand. But thinking back to high school, yes she was a decent person, not a slut. And yes that is exactly the story you'd dream up to pacify bro. And yes, bro would be so proud of your doings, he'd brag about it."
"I thought Jews were bothersome, Afghans are worse."
"You have options I don't. You can declare yourself to be any other white person." Her eyes narrow, "I got it. I've done three German tours of duty along the Czech border. The whole west of there is German-looking. Better to be Czech than German, as people think."
"I ah"
"Look, I won't look up anything secret, just mil archives available to the public. I know one really good cover story. There is this town, just vanished, torn down to build a base."
I feel my neck and shoulder go stiff. Eerie or what? Still, it's worth a look, "thank you for being a friend."