Ingo Schulze - New Lives

Michaela, who arrived shortly afterward, 319stood beside us, her mouth agape. “Really?” she asked. “A hundred fifty thousand?” She kept staring at the television, although something entirely different was on by then.

On Tuesday morning, then — since Jonas hadn’t been at the theater on Monday — Michaela and I sat waiting in his office. At half past he called us in, asked his secretary to bring three coffees, and leaned back in his throne, which came from props. His smile remained as good as unchanged while Michaela informed him about the “Berlin resolution” and demanded that he notify the authorities of a demonstration for free speech and a free press.

“Was that all?” he asked. Did we realize what we were asking, were we really serious, and did we actually expect him to go to the police and notify them of our demonstration. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn about such “re-so-lu-tions” (he provided the quotation marks by emphasizing each syllable). We could go right ahead and continue to make ourselves unhappy by announcing as many demonstrations as we, as private citizens, thought necessary, but should be prepared to put our heads on the block and not ask for his help later on because — and he was telling us this in advance — he would be unable to do anything else on our behalf, not one thing.

Michaela wanted to verify one last time, as she put it: He was not therefore prepared to sanction a demonstration here in Altenburg that had been approved in Berlin by the union representatives of every theater?

He knew nothing about any union resolutions. He could, of course, give union headquarters here a call if we liked, maybe they would know what we were talking about.

“So that means no?” she asked.

“It most definitely means no,” he said. We exchanged smiles. “Well then,” Michaela said, and stood up just as the secretary appeared with three cups of coffee.

After rehearsal, we went to see the police, 320rang the bell, and within moments were standing before the two officers on duty, one black-haired, the other blond and chubby-cheeked. From seats behind their desks, they gave us a once-over.

“We want to give notification of a demonstration,” Michaela said, then introduced us and repeated the same sentences she had used with Jonas. The black-haired cop reached for the telephone, the blond looked out the window and grinned.

A minute later and for the third time that day Michaela was using the phrases “Berlin resolution” and “meeting of working theater professionals.”

Even when he spoke, the Altenburg chief of police, a tall, skinny man with hunched shoulders, seemed somehow distracted — looking up, if he looked at us at all, only briefly. After a longish pause he said something about traffic safety, which, “given current staffing,” he could not guarantee, and then complained about the short notice we were giving him. After which silence reigned. I examined the traces of dark red wax along the baseboard of a pale wall cabinet and black streaks left by the mop.

Suddenly the chief of police asked what would be the theme of our activities.

“Sanctioning of the New Forum, free elections, secret ballot, freedom of information and the press, freedom of speech, freedom to travel — in fact, all the things that are guaranteed in our constitution,” Michaela said. The chief of police pushed himself up from his desk, took up a position at the window, and crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders even more. There was a holstered pistol at his hip.

Michaela and I crossed our legs simultaneously, which I found a little embarrassing.

Never budging, he finally instructed us to go back downstairs and fill out the necessary forms, gave a nod toward the door by way of a farewell, and then went back to staring out the window.

The blond cop was still grinning. On his desk lay two blank forms for “Registration of Open-air Activities.” Michaela frowned. “There’s nothing else,” said the black-haired cop, whose lips glistened and whose bowed eyebrows lent him a girlish look.

For number of participants we entered ten thousand, for time frame we gave from one to three p.m., and on the line asking about music we wrote “undecided.” There wasn’t enough space at the line for “Location of Activity.” In describing the route we decided to keep the same one as had been taken on Thursday, except that we wanted to begin our demonstration at the theater. We both signed. When we asked about any further formalities, the blond told us to return the following Tuesday and cast a quizzical glance at his darker colleague, who shrugged and repeated, “Next Tuesday.” Michaela extended her hand first to one, then the other — they shot up from their seats. I shook their hands as well. The doorkeeper greeted us excitedly, as if we were old acquaintances, and buzzed us out the main door. “The only thing we forgot to do was ask them for their guns,” Michaela said once we were outside.

On Wednesday I waited for Michaela beside the car — she was later than usual. I heard someone softly call my name. The general manager’s secretary had opened her window just a crack and was waving at me as if she had a dust rag in her hand.

“Well, do you hear the chains rattling?” Jonas called out to me as I entered the administration offices. “Haven’t you heard the tanks yet? You can forget your demonstration. Krenz is the new general secretary!”

To this day I don’t know what provoked Jonas’s outburst. He evidently mistook my smile for mockery. He turned red and he bellowed, “Krenz was in China!” And when I continued to say nothing: “He was there three weeks ago, just three weeks! You don’t get it, you just don’t get it.” And slammed his door behind him.

In fact I had to agree with him. I also thought a “Chinese solution” was a possibility, yes, in a certain sense the next logical step.

Michaela and I ran into each other at the main door. She was furious with Amanda in props, who had given everyone a hug before rehearsal and announced she had to say good-bye — off to the West. “All this time she’s been waiting for her exit visa to be processed, but kept her mouth shut, and now she’s as free as bird!” There had been squabbles in the canteen. Allegedly management had proposed that the Gotham premiere be called off. “Because of Krenz,” so people said.

Sitting beside me in the car, Michaela played with her purse handle. She couldn’t be talked out of attending a meeting of the New Forum. She might well be safer there than at home, she said. Afterward she wanted to return to the theater, just to make sure the resolution got read at the end, especially today of all days. “That would give the wrong signal,” she said. I offered to drive her, but she thought it best for me to stay with Robert.

Shortly after seven, we were lying in each other’s arms. Michaela caressed my cheek, the palms of her hands were cool. “I envy Amanda,” Michaela said, and was about to kiss me — when the doorbell rang. We froze. Robert soundlessly opened the door to his room. We all looked at each other and waited. The second ring was a short one too.

Standing at the door and blinking wildly was Schmidtbauer, the founder of the Altenburg New Forum. At his side were a short man with a beard and beret — the only one who smiled — and a fellow with a long beard and glasses that greatly magnified his eyes. I didn’t even get a question out or tell them they could keep their shoes on — no, as if nothing could be more perfectly obvious, they marched in in their stocking feet.

The sight of their shoes next to our doormat didn’t please me, in fact it was unsettling. Besides which I was annoyed at how their mute invasion seemed a matter of course. On the spur of the moment, Schmidtbauer had relocated the “meeting” to our apartment. Since we didn’t have a phone, we, of all people, had known nothing about it.