H. Adler - The Journey

“You’re right. It’s not so bad there. You can eat pretty well. Almost every day there’s meat and dumplings. But if they find money or jewelry or tobacco, then you’re in trouble and don’t get anything to eat.”

“It’s not so bad?”

“You’ll see, Frau Lustig. So many have already stuck it out. Only a few are beaten. But nobody has been beaten to death.”

“Beaten …?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean anything. Only the stupid ones are beaten. Whoever doesn’t deliver or hides something forbidden. When they get caught they’re the scum of the earth … condemned.…”

The voices defiled the street, therefore it was better to keep silent and to quietly march on with irregular steps. Legs marched now over the bridges. Each wanted to walk along the balustrade in order to gaze at the frozen river. But here it was particularly dark, and so there was hardly anything to see. Only dirty flecks of foam flickered silver-gray among the dolorous depths, and far off by the dam, where the water never froze, the thundering sound of the raging water could be heard. Here was the island on which Paul and Zerlina had often played as children. There had also been a swimming school that one could visit before such things were forbidden. There had been carts belonging to vendors who ordered colorful drinks for sale, as well as colorful ices and cheap candy, all of it meant to seduce folks with delight and requiring only a small sacrifice of money. Now the island was quiet and empty, certainly no longer ready to receive its regular visitors, and above all not the forbidden ones, especially since the island was now forbidden to everyone. It could no longer be reached, the entrance to it was closed, fenced in with barbed wire because something had occurred there that was now forbidden, and no one should know about it.

Now the island lay behind the wanderers, sunken, an old playground to which no path led any longer. The travelers no longer thought about it, and the bridge was gone as well. Slowly the piers gave way and collapsed, sinking into one another and falling almost soundlessly onto the ice. Then the place was gone, the traffic disappeared, after which there was a long road and everything melted together, and yet another road, gone, gone, everything forbidden now finished, no longer there, not a single memory even attempting to assert itself with a shudder, the forbidden now completely dead behind the gate that was sealed tight and would last and was there and locked the forbidden up for good.

Some halls of the Technology Museum that lay in the adjacent building had been cleaned out, nothing left in them but empty bunks and whitewashed walls. That was the gathering place for those people who were no longer wanted and yet who nonetheless were still there, since anyone who is condemned still exists before being destroyed, just as there must be a place for it all to occur, and so it all began here. Hundreds of bodies lay squeezed tightly together in the darkness that was only here and there broken by the muffled light of an occasional flashlight. But the night was constantly full of the sounds of rustling and groans.

It was impossible to find Ida and Leopold in the darkness. In surly fashion, the nervous commander from the office in charge of new detentions recommended waiting until morning.

“In six hours there will be enough light. You’ll find them both then. No one gets lost here.”

But all are already lost, and it is necessary to make fine distinctions. Whoever comes too late and has to be taken in should be happy to find a little spot on which he can rest. Now it is night and you have to make sure to find a place to rest. But where? It doesn’t matter, the main thing is that you are there. The cross-eyed youth with the service cap aslant on his head smoked one cigarette after another. Wasn’t that forbidden? For a commander nothing was forbidden, and he could run off at the mouth. He could fill the reeking hall with orders, as well as with the anger that unconsciously and without restraint accompanied the power conferred on him, and that he could vent on the prisoners in the museum at will.

Those formerly known as human beings now appeared made of wax, but they were still alive. As the morning dawned its gray, they sat upon their bundles and rocked their upper bodies to and fro, though they did not pray. They had no future, nor was the past recognizable within them any longer. “Here you can’t remember anything.” The cross-eyed youth walked back and forth among the cowering people. He was almost completely dressed in leather. It was forbidden to those whose lives had been snuffed out to wear anything upon their heads inside the halls, but Cross-Eyes wore a leather cap. In his right hand he swung a leather whip with which he could strike whenever it pleased him. And yet he didn’t harm anyone, silent threats being enough to satisfy him. Sometimes he murmured: “Soon they’ll be here, so order must be kept. No one can be sick.”

An old woman next to Ida lifted herself up and stood in front of him: “What will it be like, Herr Commander?”

Cross-Eyes maintained his haughty stance: “Don’t worry, don’t worry.”

The old woman wanted to sit down again, but she lost her balance and fell backward over her bags. Others also sank down. A young woman pulled together some whining boys and girls and distracted them with games. They sang and clapped their hands.

Amid the singing a mad woman howled: “Let me be! The soup scorched my tongue! You can’t eat my soup! I want to get out! The pope ordered it! Ha!”

The unhappy woman began to rant. Since no one knew how to calm her down, Leopold stepped in.

“I’ve been a general practitioner for years. The woman is delusional. Her condition is dangerous. She needs to be isolated and to have a shot of camphor. She can’t come along in this condition.”

Cross-Eyes appeared out of nowhere. “Mind your own business, old man! She’s coming along. Regulations say so. Listen, old woman! Get ahold of yourself! If anyone hears this ruckus, it could mean trouble for you!”

“The soup stinks! I want to get out! Let me go, let me go! The pope called me!”

“Who does the old lady belong to?”

No one said a word. A stretcher was brought out. Two young men loaded the ranting woman onto it, though she desperately tried to fight them off and bit one of their hands so badly it bled. Other attendants rushed to help the young men, and Cross-Eyes ordered them to strap the raving old lady down on the stretcher.

Someone yelled: “That’s an outrage! That’s inhuman! No one declares war on the sick!”

“Who says so? One can’t jeopardize the whole group.”

“What do you mean, jeopardize? This madness is what’s really jeopardizing us.”

“They should be quick and be done with it.”

Leopold cried: “That’s not right! You should call someone who is in charge so that order is kept!”

“I’m in charge of order.”

“You don’t bring any order at all!”

“What does it matter to you? Does she belong to you?”

Caroline took her husband by the hand and tried to pull him away in order to appease them, but Leopold was very upset and didn’t want to leave the site of the incident.

“It’s not right! This patient doesn’t belong here! She needs to be admitted!”

Waves of subdued laughter erupted. “Admitted? Admitted? Tell us, are you perhaps free to take care of it?”

“Caroline, this is unheard of! This case needs to be reported to the medical authorities! This is not how you treat human beings. If I had known that such an injustice was going to take place here I would have stayed home and not allowed my family to take part in this journey. The preparations for it are simply miserable.”