Карин Тидбек - Amatka

Nina set the bag down on the bed. “I’ll let you make yourself at home.” She went into her own room next door.

Vanja put her satchel and typewriter case down in the doorway and made a circuit of the room. She touched each object, reading its label and saying its name aloud. When she was done, she heaved the heavy typewriter case onto the desk and stacked the satchel’s contents—folders, typewriter paper, and notepads—next to it. Finally, she emptied her suitcase: the set of sheets, which she laid out on the mattress; towels, sleep clothes, a few sets of underwear, trousers, sweaters, and a pair of overalls, all of which she folded and put in one of the cabinets. The suitcase only just fit under the bed. After some consideration she put on another pair of trousers and the thickest sweater she’d brought. It didn’t make her feel much warmer.

“You need proper clothes.” Nina was back, leaning against the door frame.

Vanja pulled the sweater down over her hips. The shirt underneath bunched up. “You’re right. But I’m not sure what I need. Is it always this cold?”

“Yep.”

“Do you get used to it?”

Nina grinned and shook her head. “Nope. But you’ll get very good at dressing for the weather.” She pulled away from the door frame and went back into her own room.

Vanja sat down at the desk, took the lid off the typewriter case, and loaded a blank sheet. After punching the buttons one by one, reciting each character and number, she was confident everything was in working order.

There was a knock on the open door, and Nina entered with a note in her hand.

“Here,” she said. “I’ve made a list of the clothes we wear here. So you know what to get.”

Vanja scanned the list. “A sleeping cap?”

“The nights are even colder.”

Vanja thanked her and turned back to the desk to organize her papers. After a while she fetched the blanket from the bed and wrapped herself in it until only her head and hands could be seen. The temperature in the house wasn’t much higher than outside.

Her assignment was to find out everything E.H.S. needed to know about hygiene habits and needs in Amatka. That was it. Vanja had asked for more details, but Öydis, the supervisor, had shrugged her shoulders.

“We’ve never done this before, Vanja. Nobody’s done it before. We’re pioneers, you know? Just like our forebears. You, Vanja, have the honor of being a pioneer in this project. You’re perfectly suited. I’m sure you’ll find a good solution.”

Vanja still didn’t fully understand why she was so perfect for the job. Öydis had referred to her “quiet discretion.” Vanja suspected, however, that it had more to do with Ärna’s powers of persuasion. Ärna had told her she ought to have a change of scenery, and then made it happen. She was ever the big sister. Nepotism wasn’t really allowed, but Ärna had risen quickly through the ranks at E.H.S. and somehow managed to get Vanja the position.

She put two folders on the desk in front of her and took a thick marking pen from her satchel. She marked one folder CONTENTS: REPORTS and the other CONTENTS: NOTES. She picked up the notepad and leafed through it. It was mycopaper, shiny and new, with the scrap-by date printed in the bottom right corner of every single sheet. There should be time enough to fill the whole notepad, and transcribe the important parts, before it had to be scrapped.

Vanja was supposed to submit reports once a week. She grabbed a pencil and stepped out into the hallway to knock on Nina’s door.

The following notes are the result of my first meeting with one of my hosts, Ulltors’ Nina Amatka Four.

The household consists of three people: Nina, Jonids’ Ivar Four (farming technician), and Sarols’ Ulla Three (retired physician). Nina is 34 years old and employed as a medic at Amatka’s clinic. She informs me that Ivar is 32 years old and employed as a farming technician in the mushroom farming chambers. Both were reared in Children’s House Four in Amatka. They have produced two children together, Ninivs’ Tora Four and Ninivs’ Ida Four, eight and six years old respectively. The girls live in Children’s House Four and visit during weekends.

The general attitude to hygiene in Amatka is somewhat different, chiefly on account of the cold and the conditions it entails. Each household is allotted a ration of hot water, which is rarely enough to fill more than one bathtub. For this reason, household comrades often coordinate bathing. Nina states that the members of this household bathe every week to ten days. Otherwise they use washcloths to wash. Nina also informs me that the soap they normally use is difficult to rinse off with water and washcloth alone.

When it comes to hygiene products, the household uses the commune’s standard products without exception. Nina appears negatively inclined to externally sourced products. Her opinion is that it is important to maintain a basic standard, but she declines expanding further on the subject.

Vanja woke to the sound of thunder. The little windowpane showed a brightening sky, halfway between black and the gray of the daylight hours. She waited for the patter of rain against the glass. Nothing happened. Instead, more thunder.

She had gone to bed early, shortly after dinner. They’d had boiled turnips and carrots with savory fried mushrooms, a small round variety Vanja had never seen before. Ulla, who turned out to be old and bent but with a sharp gaze, had joined them at the table. She asked countless questions about Essre: how many people lived there nowadays, what did they wear, who was on the committee, and above all—was free production really a good idea? It seemed that the general population of Amatka didn’t receive much news from the rest of the colonies.

Vanja replied as well as she could. The last question she had no answer for, other than the official statement: to stimulate the people’s pioneering spirit and encourage cooperative development. It’s just my job, she’d said, I do what they tell me. Ulla shook her head and wondered how Vanja could be so uninterested. You’re completely inane, she’d said, and Vanja stared down at her plate. Nina had told Ulla that she ought to think before she spoke. Ulla had replied that she was too old for that.

Vanja excused herself, washed her plate and cutlery, and retired to her room, where she got into bed with her clothes on. No one came after her. It seemed that a closed door was respected in Amatka, too. She had lain awake for a long time, sorting through the things that had been said and done, coming up with all kinds of caustic retorts she could have delivered. Essre and its committee were ambitious and thinking ahead; free production was a necessary step in the expansion of the colonies. The people were ready to give it a try, in a carefully controlled effort. Amatka seemed to be doing well, no matter what Ulla might think. Did Ulla not have faith in her comrades?

Her boots lay next to the bed; she’d managed to take those off, at least. She pushed the duvet aside and shuddered in the sudden cold. She fumbled her shoes on, fetched a towel and washcloth from the cabinet, and went downstairs.

Ivar was at the kitchen table, eating with an opened book on the table in front of him. He nodded at her and jerked his thumb at the frying pan and the steaming pot sitting on the stove. Vanja nodded in reply and went into the bathroom. There was just enough room for a toilet bowl, sink, and bathtub. The third shelf on the wall was hers, not that she owned anything other than some washing products and a toothbrush. She reached for her toiletry bag, mumbled “toiletry bag,” and opened it.

She twitched and almost dropped the bag in the sink when she saw the contents. The bottom of the bag was coated in a thick paste. It was the toothbrush. She’d been careless. She’d noticed it on the train: the letters TOOTHBRUSH etched into the shaft had begun to lose their definition. Still, she’d thought it would last a little while longer.