Карин Тидбек - Amatka

Vanja abruptly realized she had nothing to light the paper with. She had never even owned a lighter. Evgen had had one, not she. She drummed her hands on her thighs in frustration. “Come on, burn,” she hissed at the archive. “Burn.”

A few of the papers rustled as if in a breeze. Of course. Vanja let out a laugh. She pulled a bundle of mycopaper out of the closest drawer and stared at it. “You’re burning,” she told the paper. “You’re burning, burning, burning.”

When the mycopaper flared up, it was so sudden it scorched her fingertips and made her drop it. It landed in a box of mixed good and mycopaper. The good paper wasn’t immune to the flames. It almost burned better than the mycopaper. Vanja took papers from the other drawers, lit them and put them back, until half of the archive was ablaze and the flames were spreading rapidly on their own. Black smoke roiled up toward the ceiling, choking her. She crawled up the stairs on her hands and knees.

They were waiting for her at the front desk. A clerk was crouched by the drawers from the secure archive, going through the folders. Two sturdy couriers were on their way through the reception toward the archive door. They stepped back as Vanja threw the door open and smoke poured out.

“There she is!” the clerk yelled.

Two shoulders slammed into Vanja’s ribs as the couriers both tackled her.

The sky was brightening as they led Vanja through the streets. One of the couriers had landed a blow on the side of her head. Her field of vision had darkened for a moment, and after that it was hard to think properly. Moving her head hurt.

The noise that cut through the air was low at first, then rose in pitch and volume, then fell again, up and down. Vanja and her captors all looked up. All around the colony, pipes loomed against the sky. They were wailing.

It could have been any office: a desk with a notepad, one chair behind the desk, another in front of it. A few inspirational posters on the wall. Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man in rumpled overalls. His hair was a little too long, his beard slightly unkempt; it made him seem absent-minded in a friendly way. Vanja had been gagged. It happened after her head cleared up and she had tried—and almost succeeded—to set fire to one of the couriers’ overalls. In response, they had gagged her and tied her hands behind her back. The gag chafed at the corners of her mouth. The restraints cut into her wrists. Leaning back on the chair put an unpleasant strain on her shoulders. The fatigue and excitement had made her shaky and cold, and her vision wavered. When she shifted in the chair, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, holding her still.

The man folded his hands on the desk in front of him and studied Vanja. He gave her a sad smile. “Brilars’ Vanja Essre Two. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Vanja glared at him.

The man sighed quietly. “No, you don’t have to try to answer. I know it’s you. Brilars’ Vanja Essre Two, recently arrived from Essre to conduct market research. You met a woman, quit your job, and settled here. So far, so good. But now you’ve lost your way. Well.” He held out his hands, palms up. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ladis’ Harri. I’m the speaker of Amatka’s committee. First of all, Vanja, I have to inform you that you’ve been arrested for destruction of public property, endangering the public, and subversive activity. And I feel it’s important that you and I have a conversation about what happened. I would like to know how all this came to pass.”

Harri stood up and leaned across the desk. He smelled faintly of coffee and liquor. “I’m thinking I might take the gag off, Vanja. Otherwise it’ll be hard for us to talk. But I have to be sure you won’t do anything foolish. Leila is standing right behind you, and she’ll sedate you if you do. And that would be a pity, because I would really like to talk to you. Can you promise me that we can talk in a calm and collected manner?”

Vanja nodded. Harri smiled and gave the courier behind her a nod. The gag came off, and the pressure around her head eased. Vanja grimaced and licked the corners of her mouth.

Harri leaned back in his chair. “Well, then. So, Vanja. Were you working with someone?”

Vanja shook her head.

Harri nodded slowly. “I should tell you that Nina was the one who reported you.”

His words sank into the pit of her stomach.

“She came to us last night, after you disappeared,” he continued. “She told us everything. It wasn’t easy for her, you know. She really does love you. She said that you’ve displayed subversive tendencies, but that she’d been hoping you’d come to your senses. And then yesterday you absconded from the leisure center. You told her you were going home?” He pulled out a drawer and took out a thermos and two mugs. “Nina went home to make up with you. Of course, you weren’t there. Instead, she found your notes.”

Vanja gasped. Harri paused and looked at her. “That’s right,” he said. “So she decided to do what she thought was best for everyone. And that’s what you and I are going to talk about. Doing what’s best for everyone. Coffee?”

Vanja declined to answer and looked away. Harri looked a little hurt. He unscrewed the lid and poured himself a cup. “We have something of an emergency on our hands.” He sipped the coffee. The hand holding the cup shook a little. “In light of that, I’ll have to keep this short. We know most of it already: you’ve intentionally let objects in your home dissolve; you’ve been conspiring with the librarian Samins’ Evgen….”

Harri nodded when Vanja gave a start. “Yes, he confessed, too. He didn’t mention you, but Nina knew that the two of you were friends. And then there’s what we’ve gleaned from your notes—that you’ve been conspiring with Sarols’ Ulla, and that you’ve studied subversive documents she kept in her room. We found the box. Ulla sold you out, Vanja.”

When Vanja opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand. With the other, he opened the notebook. “I quote: ‘…that I know exactly how things really are and still claim that E.H.S.’s products are made of something else. Calls the cup a knife. U. refers to the bag and that I wanted it to dissolve because I’m unhappy with the order of things.’ Do you deny that you wrote this? No?” He leaned forward. “And as we know, it doesn’t end there. You’ve been outside the colony, and you’ve approached quarantined areas. And finally this. Looting the archive and exposing sensitive documents.” He leaned back. “That someone would do these things… it makes me so sad.”

He seemed to be waiting for an answer. Vanja couldn’t summon the strength to speak.

Harri shook his head. “You’re not the first to foment rebellion.”

Vanja could hear the quotation marks around the last word. “The powers that be, we’re tyrants, right? It’s oppression, right?” He tilted his head to catch Vanja’s eye. “Right?”

“Yes,” Vanja managed. It came out as an “uh.”

“You know how this place works. Everyone does. We’re a finite population in a world we don’t really understand. We struggle endlessly to maintain order. That struggle entails a society with strict rules.”

Harri turned the cup in his hands. “What’s less widely known is that we have nowhere else to go, Vanja. We can’t go back. The way is shut. Our only choice is to either follow the rules or be destroyed.” His eyes were welling up. “People will die because of what you’ve done, Vanja. People have already died.”

“We’re already dead.” Vanja forced the words out between dry lips. “This is no life. You’ve taken it.”