H. Adler - The Journey

The plague memorial has survived intact. Schwind the reporter was right to wait it out there. He has dropped the camera, so no more pictures will be taken. Yet his hands are still free. He holds on with only his feet, but his hands are free and point off in many different directions. Yet nobody says which one is the best, and the reporter gives no reply no matter how often he is asked. He can’t, in fact, for he gave away his voice and no one has given it back. If one looks at him more closely it becomes clear that he has no face. He’s no longer alive, he only stands there and waits for the new day to dawn, though whether it will happen remains questionable. Yet to anyone who stands below him, it appears completely different; he believes the time has come and he won’t settle for getting no answers. Angrily he looks up at the plague reporter and lets him know that he no longer has any patience. Then Balthazar realizes that he who waits below will not put up with any nonsense, and fears for the future of his newspaper, which he cannot afford.

Balthazar waves to him to come closer to the column and shows him the way to Unkenburg. Whoever gets there first can write an article. There The Unkenburg Daily is being published. The paper is looking for freelance articles and will pay for them. Normally, unsolicited contributions sent in without return postage are not considered, but right now they are making exceptions. Extraordinary measures are needed to take an unusual step forward. No one will be upset, the editors have gotten used to hearing the unthinkable and now even expect it. How can The Unkenburg Daily special edition be published when the team needed to produce it isn’t yet there? Also, it’s a paper born amid the end of the world. Indeed, the last issue reported on the end of the paper’s run. Balthazar Schwind strains hard and recites from memory:

“Because of the lack of anything essential we have suspended our existence until further notice, yet we hope that the crisis will soon pass. In light of this, any reports about anything essential will be highly valued. The unforeseen circumstances force us to take the sad step of closing without knowing exactly when another issue will appear, though in the time in between we do not want to fail to face such difficulties as best we can and survive them. To this end it will obviously require the cooperative efforts of our staff in order to overcome the present emergency, and so we ask for patience on the part of our readers, since we have complete confidence that we will soon be able to restructure. For the duration of this brief suspension we request your continued faith and understanding in order that we have the necessary time to gather our resources and begin anew.”

The ghost below who hears this knows that not much could have changed, but it’s comforting for him nonetheless, because in the meantime he has figured out who he is. Very quietly he also confesses this to the reporter, who has gone silent again. His name is Paul and he will live, provided that no one begrudges him the time to live. He won’t be writing any articles, though, as he needs to find a road home, for he doesn’t want the journey to go on forever. He’s also tired and wants to find someplace where a room and a bed are waiting for a wanderer to use them. Until then the newspapers will have to wait or keep putting off their reappearance. Yet Paul, who knows little about himself at the moment, will soon realize that all that’s gone wrong will not release him from such confusion, for it will be some time before he will have any clarity about his journey.

Meanwhile the toads* crawl out of their holes and begin to read. At first they don’t find much and have to be satisfied with the writing on their hands, but soon they have smeared these monotone prayers and pull newspapers out of their wide mouths, which they then spread out before them and quickly read as they hop upon them. They are pleased that their newspaper has not forsaken them on this day. Each toad puffs himself up with pride, because today he finds once again his own meaning, for it’s right there in the paper. Not only are day-to-day affairs restored but also the future itself is on display and exists because it has been printed. Every toad can read about himself today, for they themselves are the subject of the news. The newspaper, which until now was only the mirror on the wall, is now a manifestation of the market that has materialized and is full of public sorrow. The difference between the reader and the editor has disappeared. They are both toads who await their passing and who enjoy themselves in between. Things have come full circle. Hearts are worn on sleeves. The future is suspended, insurance is no longer bought, no credit is given, business has ceased.

This is why the windows of all offices and shops are closed. The toads cannot do anything or take care of anything. They say that things are only delayed, but Paul does not believe them. He asks that they give him a sign if things are going to happen for real. Then they run away from him in cowardly fashion. Paul doesn’t know whether they take him for a fool or hightail it out of fear. It’s not hard for them to hide themselves. The field of graves is endless and full of puddles in whose mud the toads can quickly disappear. Not only is the train not running, there is also no longer any traffic. It must be lucky not to have any suitcases when things are at a complete standstill like this. Possessions that cannot be shipped only weigh one down. The town in which one stands can provide no security. Paul must acknowledge that it will not be easy to get away from this hole in the wall. But whoever wants to leave must do so at his own risk. Accidents can occur, because epidemics are everywhere just waiting to explode. Deaths cannot be avoided, because of the overwhelming nature of current conditions. The editors, however, don’t post any death notices. The Unkenburg Department of Health has handed over authority to Dr. Zischke, the director of the hospital, after his strong recommendations. At the last gathering of the sad survivors it was decided to not meet again, as well as to entrust the administration of the archives to Poduschka the butcher and meat smoker, as all hands rose in a unanimous decision. Sausages that wanted to practice in the future could use the stethoscope of the former health minister. Following through on the consequences of the most recent developments, the toads, as well as their next of kin, are forbidden under penalty of law to prowl around near the city crematorium.

Particularly troublesome are the unrecognizable voices that suddenly pop up from the dead. They don’t care about the newspapers, but appear when they wish and refute everything that’s been said. None of them can prove who he is and therefore is ignored. Paul believes there is no need to worry about not having any identity papers. It’s just an accident that the reporter happened to remember who he was and used a name that he could recognize himself by, though Paul granted it no worth, for it did not certify who he was, because there was no signature on a piece of paper. It’s clear that the voices are for the most part felt to be offensive to the local population, since they continually scream about revenge, although the inhabitants are completely innocent, especially since the voices cannot prove the losses they claim. The menace expressed by the voices states how their existence should be treated as harmless, as if order still prevailed. Yet the voices want revenge for what is habitual to the toads. Revenge for the bricks that still exist in other walls! Revenge for the goods that they now have! Revenge for the families that one loves and wants to protect! Revenge for the fact that anything still exists! Revenge for what exists! Revenge, revenge, revenge!