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

My father undresses me as if I were a small child. It feels uncomfortable. I push his hand away and take the clothes off on my own. Once naked, I walk inside the booth. I am unsure of whether all of this is a good idea. I try to think of an alternative, but I have a hard time coming up with one. Besides, the booth has been airsealed already. That’s it. No turning back.

My father looks at me from afar. He fiddles with the controls and prepares the trip. He rolls up his left sleeve and reads a code from one of his many scars. The booth’s engine begins to hum faintly, warming up.

My father walks up to the booth and stands in front of the porthole. We stare into each other’s eyes, expressionless. I study the wrinkles on his face, trying to remember every detail. I breathe in softly. My father winks his eye and I’m gone.

I open my eyelids slowly, adjusting to the light. What? The light? There’s light outside the booth! Before I am able to react, the booth opens up. A rush of cold air brushes my sweaty skin. It is bright, too bright. I am only able to discern a human figure standing in front of me.

His hand grabs me by the arm and pulls me to my feet. I know it’s a man because of his rough palm and strong grip. I use my hands to shield my face from the light. In the corner of the room I discern an animal cage. Inside of it a beautiful Siberian Husky stares at me. Terrified, with its tail between its legs.

The man shouts at me in German. He demands I tell him who I am.

I begin to see things a little more clear now. The man is wearing a lab coat and a bushy moustache. Behind him, other scientists are gathering around. I’ve never seen one of these labs so populated and alive. It’s sparkling clean too. The walls are pristine and freshly painted. In the far corner I make out a soldier, dressed in grey, with a red armband. He has the emblematic SS pins on the collar of his blazer.

At least I know I’m in the correct year.

I amaze myself with my lying capabilities. I tell the man that I am a fellow German soldier from the future. My impeccable accent sells the premise. The man in the lab coat buys it without a doubt. I read his name tag: H. Kammler. He demands that I tell him who my supervisor is. I tell him it’s a matter of state security and that I shall maintain confidentiality. Again, I’m amazed at my own deceit. I always felt like I was usually too honest for my own good. I just proved myself wrong.

He calls out to an assistant and I am offered a spoonful of salt. I swallow it swiftly, trying not to taste it. A blanket is thrown over me, even though I am not that cold at all. The whole situation is increasing my body temperature. I need to get out of here before I make a mistake and they find out I’m a fraud.

I grab the man with the lab coat by the arm and pull him gently. I’ve made him uncomfortable with this sudden gesture. I slowly blink my eyelids, silently asking him to come closer. He leans in and offers his ear. I whisper that I need to leave the building as soon as possible. He backs off in surprise and suspicion. At first I don’t think he’s fallen for it, but he quickly gives me a reason to doubt my initial assumptions. He pulls me aside and asks the soldiers to step away. He cautiously asks me what the reason is. I tell him I cannot disclose that information. It’s not working. He shakes his head. I say it has to do with ‘The Bear’. That attracts his attention. I say that I’ve been sent put an end to the traitor, and that we will miss our only chance if they do not let me go immediately. He knows my father. I can see it in his eyes. And he does not think highly of him. He says he’s not authorized to let me leave the premises. I squeeze his arm in desperation and empathize that the Fuhrer’s life depends on it. Where the hell did I pull that one from? Controversially, my idiotic statement struck a chord in him. He quietly nods.

He turns to the other personnel and tells them to watch the time booth while he takes me to the infirmary. I follow close behind him, covering myself with only a towel. The lab looks very different to the others. For starters, it is full of employees and all the lights are working, as well as a rudimentary ventilation system.

We reach a turn in the corridor and he takes me inside the infirmary. I walk in, but he doesn’t. He asks me to wait. I do.

Less than a minute later he returns with a set of clothes in his hand and a lab coat. He says it’s his own clothes and hopes they will fit me. It’s only after putting them all on that I realize I have no shoes. He takes off his own. I must have done a great acting job. He seems genuinely concerned. I throw the lab coat on top of my new, baggy clothes and the man orders me to hurry.

I walk the confusing corridors as confidently as I can. Some turn their heads as I walk by, but not long enough to stop me. I begin to think they’re just being polite.

As I reach what seems to be the exit to the underground facility, I find a German soldier standing guard. I nervously approach him. He holds up his hand and I halt. He frisks me. Finds nothing. He looks back up at me, curiously staring at my bald head. He says he didn’t see me enter the facility. I choke.

Someone a few steps behind me explains that I have been doing the night shift. I turn. It’s the same scientist who gave me his shoes. He must have followed me to assure my escape. He’s still barefoot. The guard bows his head and lets me go. He does, however, point out that employees should always wear appropriate footwear. The scientist chuckles, slaps his forehead and then proceeds to complain about stress.

I walk out of the dark environment and enter a grey forest. I suppose the trees are probably more green than they are grey, but the myst makes it hard to discern. I do recognize the building right behind me. It’s the Jagdschloss Grunewald. I remember because my mother brought me here back when I was seventeen. It was the first art museum open to the public in Berlin after the war. I remember my mother telling me about the scandals that took place here.

So, good news is I know where I am, and it’s not too far from where I should be. Bad news is, I don’t know Grunewald that well and there’s only trees between me and my destination. I could turn towards the city, but that would be risky. It only takes one skeptical observer to blow my cover. I decide to take my chances through the thick trees.

On the way I stumble upon something I didn’t expect: a race track. I had forgotten about it. My sister knew I was fond of cars and she brought me here a few days after arriving to Berlin. It was a good way to introduce me to the city and the world’s first freeway. It made me believe it had been a good idea to move here after all.

A little further on I stumble upon another surprise. Teufelsberg, or Devil’s Mountain, as it would be later called. At the moment though, it is no mountain at all. Berlin hasn’t been destroyed, and a third of its rubble hasn’t been gathered here to build a hill that would eventually be used as a ski slope, as if it were some sort of macabre joke. In its place is the Wehrtechnische Fakultät, a half-built military academy of an olympic scale. It is intimidatingly grandiose, despite it not being finished. I look out for construction workers, but it seems to be too early for anyone to be working.

I soon begin to orient myself. It reassures and soothes me to know that I haven’t been walking in the wrong direction. I finally exit the park and walk back into the city. It takes me only a few minutes to get to the Olympiastadion. Just a few years ago the olympics exposed the might of Germany to the whole world. It is here where I was told by my father to wait, but he never told me what for.