Alain Xalabarde - The Berlin Paradox - Chronicles of a Soviet Time Traveler

I walk up the stairs to the third floor. I nudge the door, and to my fortunate surprise, it gives in. Although... knowing now that it was already open makes me feel uneasy. A stench fills my nostrils and I cover my mouth with my sleeve.

The apartment is quite empty. Not a lot of furniture. It doesn’t take me long to find the doctor’s dead body. It looks like it must have been here a couple of weeks. I suppose the neighbours must have been turned off my the smell, but were too afraid to intervene.

Deep down I feared something like this, but hoped it was only me being paranoid. I didn’t get to know the doctor well enough, but his death still hits me like a ton of bricks.

I walk closer to the body and notice a broken lamp beside him, and blood underneath him. His neck has been severed. With a knife, I assume.

I shouldn’t linger here for too long. I search his pockets, but I find nothing of interest. In fact, his wallet is missing. Did he get robbed? It makes more sense that someone made it look as if he had been robbed. After all, who would storm into this apartment? Who would use such extreme measures to subdue a weak old man?

I need to get out of here. I leave the apartment and close the door behind me. There are no neighbours around. Good.

Once in the street, I search for a phone booth. I call the police and anonymously report the doctor’s death. All I tell them is that there is a strange smell coming from the apartment. I’m sure they’ll figure out the rest.

It takes about an hour for the police to arrive. I cautiously hang about when they do. I make sure my scarf and hat are hiding my face. From afar I am able to hear one of the neighbours testifying to the police officers. She describes a suspicious man she saw a couple of weeks ago. She describes him as bald and pale. I feel a cold electric shock rush through my body when I hear this. My first conclusion is that it could have been me. But that can’t be. Why would I want to kill the doctor? What did he do? What will he do? What’s clear is that his plan did not work. I cannot make use of this apartment. Its safety has been compromised. But now the seed of doubt has been planted inside of me. I will most likely meet the doctor again, and when I do, I will not be able to look at him in the same way.

When I return to the hospital, I learn that the blond woman has been asking about me all day long. I walk into the main hall, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me into a secluded office. Before asking me anything, she angrily points out that I can’t just leave the premises as I like. She’s partially right. It was risky of me to venture into this new decade with anyone to guide me. However, as soon as I give her news of the doctor’s death, she seems to completely overlook my lack of discipline.

She takes a step back and sits on the desk. Her chin trembles for a slight moment, but she closes her eyes, swallows her tears and gets back up. She asks me if I know who did it. I lie and tell her that I have no idea who could have done it.

I ask her if we can search the doctor’s office. She walks me there. The room is a bit of a mess. Although that may only be so from my point of view. Maybe it’s in perfect order in the eyes of someone with a privileged brain, such as Dr. Vodnik’s.

I ask her if he had written down the last seed he cracked. The blond woman hands me a napkin. A number has been hastily written on it. Underneath it, the doctor also wrote “The Bear”. I ask her what he meant by that. She shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. I ask her where he got the seeds from. She explains that it’s a complex method of manually scanning through whatever remaining documents we have found, look out for patterns and use them to create a seed. Each seed is a string of what seems like a series of random numbers and letters. But within this seed is an encrypted algorithm. Sort of like a puzzle. Once the doctor was able to crack the algorithm, he’d use segments of the numbers as starting points, and that would give him a final result: a seed. This only reinforces the doctor’s overwhelming talent. Issue is, every seed has its individual decryption algorithm. She points out that, although she’s able to decode a seed once the algorithm is decrypted, it is a lot more difficult to actually find the individual algorithm for each seed.

What’s clear is that the doctor intended to use this seed in our next trip, but he’s no longer here to authorize it. The decision now lies on his assistant.

Staying at the hospital has turned out to be a good idea. I was able to talk with the veteran soviet soldiers and hear their tales of the war. I kept asking if any of them knew my father. The chances are slim, but it’s worth trying. It’s also good to speak Russian again. It’s like being back home. I wish I could have had a chance to get out of the premises and visit my sister, but even I know that’s not a bright idea. I just feel bad that she hasn’t seen me in ten years. Then again, has she? How can I be so sure there’s not another version of myself from the future out there right now? Maybe I did return to her after all. Maybe she’s with me right now. Or maybe I never did return to her. That sounds more akin to something I would do. I would be too ashamed to show my face after so long, and the longer I spent not seeing her, the harder it’d be for me to gather the courage. I wonder if she’s married. Hopefully to a nice man. She deserves a good man. Someone better than her selfish brother. Maybe she has kids. In fact, maybe she’s completely moved on. Maybe she’s too busy to keep looking for her brother. I hope that’s the case. On the other hand, I also selfishly do hope she tells my nephews about me.

What am I saying? I don’t even know if she has children at all, and I’m already behaving like an uncle. Besides, she’s always been a free spirit. Most likely, she’s still single, focusing on her career rather than getting involved in mindless love affairs. All I really hope is that my superiors at Wünsdorf gave her a good explanation for my disappearance. Best explanation they could have given her is that I am dead. It’s the only way she’d be able to move on in the long run.

Stop talking bullshit. Focus. There are more important things to worry about. We’re back in the booth. Remember. Salt. Salt. What else? Salt… Seeds. Yes. Oh, the map. Map.

Her beautiful face pops into the porthole. She’s smiling. She winks. It’s hot inside here. It’s getting hotter every instant. It seems different than the last time. It’s too hot now. I’m burning. And then, out of nowhere, a rush of ice cold air blows my body against the back wall.

I am crawled up like a wounded animal. I feel even weaker than in the last trip. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy. I look up at the porthole above me. I see some light coming in. At least this time there’s someone waiting. Wait! Who’s waiting?

The door opens and a cold breeze dries the sweat on my naked body. Two white coats stand before me. I look up. It’s blurry. I don’t recognize their faces. One of the figures speaks in German. Wait. Is that…? I recognize the voice. I call out Dr. Vodnik by name.

Silence.

After a moment he replies, in Russian. To my surprise he asks who I am.

I ask what year it is. He refuses to reply and insists I first answer his question. I state my full name. As my eyes adjust to the light, I am able to make out the laboratory behind him. It’s a little run down. I wonder what location we’re at, and what year it is.

I am shivering. I ask for a blanket. The doctor waves behind him and a make out the shape of a soldier approaching. The doctor stretches out his hand towards me. I hold on to it and he helps me stand up. I walk out of the booth and immediately realize the room is lit up by working lights, all connected to generators.