Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

An Morales was right … that’s how it goes, that’s the way it is, it’s cruel, I know … came to me out of Vohřecký … an I got it, an that’s how I was from then on, even after they killed him … I don’t regret a thing that happened. Just those people over there … some of em suffered a lot, we had to do it … an as long as I’m here, God … here … then it’s true … even this is true …

Hi, Potok. Said the figure in black, couldn’t see the face, but the voice I recognized an felt joy.

I knew I’d run into you, we never did get a chance to talk …

Not about that, said Bohler.

I was ashamed the whole time.

An I hated you, he said.

I really like her, the little one too.

You of all people. Maybe it’s good. But you better not hurt her.

We’ve got a contract.

Baloney, with a girl, what contract? Either you’re with her or you’re not.

I kept my mouth shut. Just like that time. When they pulled that trick with the soap on him. Some dumb young con in the showers, soap in his eyes, bends over to wash himself, two guys grab him, an the third rams it in. An when they broke somebody that way, they’d usually toss him around a pretty long time. As long as they felt like it.

Didn’t happen to me. I had practice in speech from all sortsa environments … an soon me an the German shepherds were conversin, me an the dylinas, somehow it worked, soon I had it all scoped out, even the corners, an then the mop an bucket was child’s play, I knew my way around, all those boiler rooms an warehouses an factories from before, in my youth, that did the trick, it’s always the same … but Bohler, straight outta seminary, with his vocabulary an those ministrant moves of his … they ate that shit up … an what was I sposta do? Get myself beat up, killed? Those guys were psychopaths … we were just psychopaths of freedom … foolish kids among cannibals … I stood by the wall, shower running, and they brutalized him. Maybe I should’ve scalded them with the water or whatever … but then it woulda been my turn … wet wedding, they called it, initiation, cable installation, kaolin mine, the old prisoners had lotsa names for it … it wasn’t a question of just one fight, the thing was you hadda hang on there … I didn’t know … maybe years, an I wanted to survive. One joker called it the shower of happiness … monsters. For them it was normal.

Bohler lost his mind. Didn’t speak for weeks. It was too much. We were in a cell together, us an some greengrocers, an one night I say to him … who gives a shit, right … he wasn’t asleep, and declared in his new tongue … I do, he laughed, sperm up the ass, stuff 11 shit right out … but what gets me is the others, the rest of em … what, those guys that did it to you? Nah, the other ones. And he changed.

You pissed me off pretty bad, Potok, later on too, in the buildings.

I didn’t know. Where are we?

Guess. An watch.

Outside the windows, the field, soggy and swampy on the other side of the wires, drew closer all of a sudden … there were women, a procession, they were marching … walking through the muck, moving their feet, but in place … I saw them, in rags, scarves, it was raining on them … on their naked arms I saw goose bumps … I looked into their faces, horrified that maybe … they were barefoot, I saw their battered, bloodied feet … some didn’t have nails anymore … I had no body in that place, but I shuddered, my mind a blank as my eyes drifted over the women’s faces, terrified I’d see her … I had a clue now where we were … those’re Chatterers, with too-sharp teeth, a voice said … an Sadies that tortured, that’s how they made their lives … an Shells that suffocated inside, an whores … an poisoners, an Lacties that killed their own kids … an they all hafta do it over an over, do it till they get it, an this is just a stroll in the park, a rest stop … Bohler, my guide to purgatory, told me, the men’re here in the barracks, they can’t move an they can’t get at each other, not here … here they’re separate … and then one of em, her scarf slipped off her raven-black hair … why’re you here, dear, feet still hurt? if it’s you, then I’ll lie down in the muck an you can walk over me, go ahead …

Yep, said Bohler. Exactly. I heard you. Be glad. You’re lucky. Some it takes a while. An I’ve got nothin against you anymore.

I never had anything against you. I was just ashamed. Bohler?

What?

An if you’re here … I mean you fought!

Yeah.

An if you’re here, you saw his face … tell me.

What?

Why?

Why what?

Why everything. Why is it?

It’s by design, Potok. Well … at least I think.

An … that’s sposta reassure me?

You gotta trust a little.

But I wanna go back, I want her.

Potok … how do you know … you won’t do to her, you know what you did.

I can’t, Bohler … not anymore. It won’t happen. I trust … myself.

There, you see. It’s the same.

And Bohler got up, tore off his burlap. We were still inside the barracks, but I couldn’t see the others that he’d shown me anymore. His face was all puffy, my drowned buddy. And I saw his wild animal too, the one he’d had tattooed on. They hadn’t taken that away. A clear-sighted eagle, spreading its wings. But that’s not what he wanted to show me. He watched me through unmoving eyes. Like they were made of glass. All at once I had a body, and leaned toward him.

His eyes didn’t move.

Bohler!

Yep. I’m blind. Blinded. An you’ll meet her, don’t worry.

I was woken by someone kicking on the door, it was Kasim. He helped me get up. We’d run out of steam. Didn’t talk much.

After that I walked around, daydreaming and pondering. Quite likely the Vatican’s seasoned lawyers would’ve mocked me, or even worse. After all … I’d confessed to a murderer, an a dead one to boot. Yep, I can only nod my head an say: That’s the way it is. I don’t say it in my defense. I don’t want to defend myself anymore.

I didn’t tell Lao about the encounter. With all my activities, there wasn’t much time for it either. I was busy playing Popeye the Sailor in an ad.

I was all spiffed up for it too, I left the costume on, thinking, this’ll flood the rear admirals … but then … in front of the studios. In a gray Daimler. Just ran my eye over it, took a couple steps and went back, following my heart … she was starting the engine … hat on her head, veil across her face, tulle … gripping the wheel with both hands, in muslin up to her shoulders … you’re leaving, I said to myself, more like the words fell into me from nowhere … I guess you know why you’re leaving me, the woman drove the car away … on the seat next to her … maybe it was a pistol. Maybe she wanted me to see. I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t her but just some wacked-out actress, there were throngs of em paradin around, I reassured myself. Pointlessly.

At Skyscraper 33, finally a metamorphosis took place … Popeye … swaggered in there in my frayed striped T-shirt, flashin my earring an puffin my pipe, the submachine gunners reined in the dogs an the doormen opened the doors, bidding me on with a bow … into the chambers and rooms, at the elevator a young lady took charge of me … Mister Octopedes the shipbuilder, traveled mouth to mouth down the hall, I nodded, belching smoke so they couldn’t see my grin … we rode all the way up. Another young lady opened a set of armored doors … in an expansive study behind a desk under a fan sat Micka.

Bowing, he came forward, then sped up and slowed down and stood still, opened his mouth and shut it again … me swayin an puffin … he turned to the window and said: Took you long enough.