Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

I’ll drop ya in Usanica, at the train. How’d ja wind up here? Aw, just driftin, takin a look around … I hear ya, he nodded. Locals don’t exactly flock here, too superstitious. Couple Ruthenians, in the mountains, come down for vodka an chewin gum, that’s about it … only people we get out here’re city folk. There’s a family with kids nearby. An the one that herds. The locals … you wouldn’t believe the stories they got. Say there’s ghosts round here. Last time they had anything spooky out here was Bandera* an his crew. An sposedly … there’s some factory, from the war still. Buried. They say after the Germans left, the Russkies started it up again. Wives’ tales. Was an earthquake here, way back when. But otherwise there’s nothin goin on, so they still remember. The time the earth shook.

What’re you doin here? I inquired of Mr. Talkative.

Me … I found somethin! he said excitedly, and pulled over. I flinched, another wacko … He took me round the back of the truck and unrolled some blankets full of assorted unusual rocks …

Donno how much biology you had, but those’re trilobites! He lovingly lifted one and rotated it to give me a side view … I discovered caves, hundreds of em! His face was … happy. Gorgeous, they’re beauties … an there’s somethin else in there too, he said, winking. Flowers! Know this one? He pulled a deep orange flower out of his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. Strong fragrance.

Sure don’t.

It’s saffron … there’s whole meadows of em, I’m gettin it analyzed, see if it’s mutated … you wanna join the team, we can make a deal!

I felt an almost irresistible urge … first I gotta go see my girl.

Bring her along, what’s stoppin ya?

You’re a great guy … I told him sincerely … would Černá … maybe, maybe not … it’s a possibility. But the main thing was, I had material for my dreams.

Word of advice for ya, he said back on the road … get a haircut, no point in stickin out around here … they don’t like it.

Don’t like it anywhere.

City’s different … out here everyone knows bout everyone else, even if they’re kilometers apart. They know right away when somebody new comes. Or disappears.

I don’t like the sound a that, I said.

That’s the way it is, nothin you can do. He kept quiet a while. Then he says … yeah, I’m satisfied here, the one that herds too … how long though I donno … there’s times I think I’ve found my place … an there’s times somethin tells me I should clear out while I can … there’s somethin strange here, that’s for sure. Just donno what. Where ya wanna hop out?

At the station. So this is Ušanica?

Yep.

Holy shit!

You’ll get used to it.

Keep goin. Step on it!

Standing in front of the station was Hunter.

I dropped to the floor, squeezin up against the metal. My new friend was understanding, he kept goin … was that a Russian? he inquired.

No. I donno.

Some Kazakh or Kalmyk or somethin … said the fella, he a deserter? There’s some a those round here, don’t wanna go back to Mother Russia, they want Germany. Yep, they’re real curious bout them over there. Dads hacked the place to pieces an their boys got freedom. Crazy how the wheel spins, huh? Been a long time since I talked normal with anyone. Also useda be Mongols out here worked in the porcelain factory. Mongol in a china shop’s what they say out here, good, huh? But it didn’t work out … with the locals. Surprised that one showed his face. You got some racket goin with them? Forget it, all they got’s rifles for booze, now the gangs’re gettin in on it … I warn ya, you look like a regular guy … Where ya headed? I gotta go to the lab … all the way to … Mezilavorie, know it?

Nope.

You’ll see.

The car wove through the concrete. The only living people were at the pepper market. But it was beautiful. Except for the concrete. Concrete. Formica. Tar.

Here’s where they put the folks from the woods, get it? Housin projects! Took their land. Blew up their houses, everything, gone. So there’d be nothin left to orient by. An they gave em TVs for free, get it? Like as compensation … yeah it’s obvious! What that musta done to em. Strategic area … ya know there’s no maps a this region? An if there are, they’re maimed on purpose. It’s gonna take years! Drunks lyin all over the place! An maybe this guy wanted me to run inta him, hafta toss him some change then. Never get away in this clunker. Yep, look at that, got his buddies around the corner, that’s what they’re doin all right, an I thought I was makin it up. He shook his head.

No Gothic here, boy, nothin, my rescuer lectured me. Baroque, hah! Maybe a couple painted chests, about it … herders, man. Nomads. Stone Age to Stalin. Mud huts to housin projects. Tartars’d flip, they came back … There’s a few wooden churches, for appearance’ sake, synagogues’re fucked too, Jews didn’t stay, not here, not a one, closest ones now’re all the way down in Bratislava … nothin out here cept for bolshevism, an that’ll be here forever, construction … hey, a museum, an there’s that big Ruthenian artist … I missed the name, since we nearly ran over a cat … plump thing, just lyin there, claws tearin the air … didn’t wanna move. It was black, what else. And then it got up and ran across the road.

I dozed off in the train, just on the edge of a dream, enjoying the feeling … now, my sweet, now we’ll pack up an move on, wherever … maybe the sea, maybe not, the day rocks along … maybe saffron, maybe some other fragrance … I had the compartment to myself.

Take care, Smoothy, wherever you are, you tall-tale teller and observationist, you dissectionist you, and thanks … tonight I’m taking a holiday, I’m giving it to myself, I want to spend it in solitude.

The conductor stepped in, thoughtful fella, doused the light, it was hurting my eyes, I rubbed my eyelids … we go flying into a tunnel, I hand him my ticket, he’s got on a silly hat … buttons with an insignia, a uniform … light whipped out of the tunnel and suddenly Hunter stood before me with a vacant expression, clutching a thin cane, spinning it around his wrist … I know one end of the cane’s dull and the other’s whittled to a point … I jump up, bang my head on the window, wake up … good gracious, what is it, sonny, someone says … a granny’s sittin there, I’m all sweaty … bad dream, here, take a cough drop, freshens the breath … No thanks, I sat back down … old lady looks like Mrs. Macešková, flower-print scarf, like my grandma had … but I had to go to the bathroom, I leaned over the sink a while, told the mirror: Say hi to Černá, washed up … the granny wasn’t there anymore, guess I got the wrong compartment, maybe went the other direction, I donno. I rode the rest of the way without incident, in daylight.

South Station, where Bohler the savior used to do his hunting, it was lively. Too lively. There were even numbered cops here now, characters swarmed in the corners. Loitered off to the sides. I had a cup of coffee and then did something I’d never done in my life. I bought Černá flowers. I didn’t know how she’d take it. Roses, yeah, but that’s somethin else. They also had wreaths and candles, I just made a face.

I ran up the stairs to the attic. She wasn’t there. Nobody was. The flat looked tidied up. Like nobody’d ever lived there. Never knew we had a vacuum. I sat down.

Hours rolled by. They rolled over me, and they were heavy. They were dark. I tried the drawers … spotted some papers, but didn’t peek. That’s a no-no, they’d beaten that into me, taught me that. She hadn’t gone shopping or out for a walk, she’d’ve left a note, after all we’d talked. The flowers lay on the floor. I left the vases empty. It was still day.