1950? That’s before I even signed up for this! She says the doctor and herself had already seen me, but thought it’d be safer to not influence my decision. After all, it seems as if fate was unavoidable anyhow.
I am eager to visit the new laboratory but she says we should wait for noon. The hospital is too busy in the morning.
She offers getting on the ferris wheel. Sure. Why not.
Our carriage rises up into the cold sky. The wind swivels our flimsy metal box. I thought I’d be ok with this, but I’m not. It’s strange. I remember going through nerve-wrecking tests at the Space Program. I passed them all without fail. Maybe it’s the fact that one was built by scientists, while the other is a dingy money-maker that has little concern for the rider’s safety. Or maybe I’m just exaggerating.
Beside me, the blond woman holds her hair down, protecting it from the wind. She must be almost fifty years old now, but her scent intoxicates me. She turns to me. I turn away, pretending to glance at the landscape. I make out the wall in the distance. It’s about a kilometer away and cuts all the way towards the center of Berlin. From up here life seems to be the same on both sides of the wall. There aren’t any glaring differences, or any reasons to believe that they are two completely different countries.
I take this opportunity to learn more about her. I make sure that my tone is strictly professional. I don’t want her to think I’m hitting on her. I casually ask her if she’s from Berlin. That should be a good conversation starter. She nods her head. I ask her if she was here during when the Red Army arrived. I immediately realize it’s probably not an appropriate question, but she answers nevertheless. She sighs in relief and says her parents left long before that, back in 1934. They saw how Germany was changing, and they didn’t like where it was going. Both of them had communist ideas, and they even taught her some Russian. So they decided it was safer to simply move somewhere more suitable. This place happened to be Vienna. Or as it was known at the time, Red Vienna, for its well-known left-leaning government. Unfortunately, it only took four years later for her parents to return to their home country. Not because they had actually moved, but because Germany had annexed Austria. Her father and mother were lucky to stay under the radar and carry on with their lives as normally as they could. A couple of years later she left school and joined university. At the same time, her father was conscripted into the army, much against his will, only to be killed in a matter of months. Her mother immediately fell into a deep depression and died soon after. She suddenly found herself completely alone and in charge of her own survival. Although her parents had left her some inheritance, it wasn’t enough to support her university studies, so she got a job in a coffee shop and continued going to classes. That is, until the siege of Vienna. With the Soviet forces at the gates, and having heard of the sexual misconduct by many of their soldiers, the owners of the coffee shop offered their pantry as a hiding spot for young girls such as herself. However atrocious, it was during this tumultuous time that she met her husband. At that very same moment, her mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. Instead she turns her head away and looks off into the distance.
I ask her when and how she returned to Berlin. She says she was offered a job during the Soviet occupation of Austria. She knew Berlin well, she spoke Russian, and had the right education. It just made sense.
The wheel comes to a stop and we both get off. After the ride, we walk back to the car and head towards the hospital.
When we arrive, my first impression is that the building is not in great condition, but it functions well enough. I guess that’s the Soviet way. I follow her inside as she salutes the hospital staff. I hear the monotonous moans of the patients and smell the aseptic stench of the halls.
We reach the emergency stairs and walk down to the bottom where a shiny steel door has been precariously installed. She opens it with a set of keys that she has been keeping in her pocket all this time.
We walk down a dimly-lit tunnel to a familiar-looking room. Gadgets have been installed in the same manner as they were in the previous location. She shows me a time booth and explains that they have deciphered the seed for the next trip, but we ideally need the doctor’s authorization before embarking. I ask if she knows what year I’ll be going to next. She says she doesn’t know, but that she supposes it’ll land on the beginning of a decade, as usual.
I observe a map hanging on the wall. It has been marked with pins. From what I gather, they seem to represent the locations of discovered time booths. She walks beside me and I smell her sweet perfume once more. She points at the map and explains that they are trying to find a pattern that may reveal the location of the rest of the time booths. We are currently at the time booth labelled as B-SO. She says the “SO” stands for “south east”. That part they’ve easily cracked. The main question lies in the “B”. Some booths are labelled “A”, others “B”, and there is no clear reasoning. They’ve tried to connect the locations via triangles and rectangles, trying to form some sort of logical pattern, but so far they just seem to be scattered randomly across the city and they have no idea how many there may be in total.
I stare at the map for a little longer. She asks me to remember it, as I will have to communicate the locations when I travel back. I am a little confused though. Didn’t she say we shouldn’t mess with the past? She does, however, admit that I may have told them already, and that in this case, messing with the past would actually mean not telling them about the locations. It’s a little hard to keep track of all this. My brain takes a break for the time being.
She places her hand on my bald head and tells me to take some rest. Dr. Vodnik had planned for me to make my next jump in three days, but there’s no way of knowing what his specific plan was. However, I am secretly determined to find out what happened to the doctor. I don’t tell her this, of course.
The following day, I leave the hospital early in the morning. Early enough that nobody will question it. The blond woman gave me some new clothes, and I found some money inside the jacket. I’m not sure if that was intentional or simply a coincidence. I put on a hat, a scarf, and use the money to make my way back to the center, in search of the apartment Dr. Vodnik had arranged for me. Maybe he’s left a note or some sort of an explanation there.
When I arrive the building entrance, I turn around and find the park just in front. I walk to the stone under which I should find the key. It’s in a remote corner of the park. Away from the benches. When I arrive, I realized that the stone has been slightly moved. I pick it up and look underneath. Nothing. All I find is a patch of dead grass and some insects that have decided to made a home underneath the rock.
I walk back to the apartment building. I stand by the main door patiently. Someone is ought to walk in or out eventually. Only 5 minutes later, an old lady exits the building. I greet her politely and sneak in before the door slams shut behind her.
I walk up the stairs to the third floor. I nudge the door, and to my fortunate surprise, it gives in. Although... knowing now that it was already open makes me feel uneasy. A stench fills my nostrils and I cover my mouth with my sleeve.
The apartment is quite empty. Not a lot of furniture. It doesn’t take me long to find the doctor’s dead body. It looks like it must have been here a couple of weeks. I suppose the neighbours must have been turned off my the smell, but were too afraid to intervene.
Deep down I feared something like this, but hoped it was only me being paranoid. I didn’t get to know the doctor well enough, but his death still hits me like a ton of bricks.
I walk closer to the body and notice a broken lamp beside him, and blood underneath him. His neck has been severed. With a knife, I assume.
I shouldn’t linger here for too long. I search his pockets, but I find nothing of interest. In fact, his wallet is missing. Did he get robbed? It makes more sense that someone made it look as if he had been robbed. After all, who would storm into this apartment? Who would use such extreme measures to subdue a wea
k old man?
I need to get out of here. I leave the apartment and close the door behind me. There are no neighbours around. Good.
Once in the street, I search for a phone booth. I call the police and anonymously report the doctor’s death. All I tell them is that there is a strange smell coming from the apartment. I’m sure they’ll figure out the rest.
It takes about an hour for the police to arrive. I cautiously hang about when they do. I make sure my scarf and hat are hiding my face. From afar I am able to hear one of the neighbours testifying to the police officers. She describes a suspicious man she saw a couple of weeks ago. She describes him as bald and pale. I feel a cold electric shock rush through my body when I hear this. My first conclusion is that it could have been me. But that can’t be. Why would I want to kill the doctor? What did he do? What will he do? What’s clear is that his plan did not work. I cannot make use of this apartment. Its safety has been compromised. But now the seed of doubt has been planted inside of me. I will most likely meet the doctor again, and when I do, I will not be able to look at him in the same way.
When I return to the hospital, I learn that the blond woman has been asking about me all day long. I walk into the main hall, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me into a secluded office. Before asking me anything, she angrily points out that I can’t just leave the premises as I like. She’s partially right. It was risky of me to venture into this new decade with anyone to guide me. However, as soon as I give her news of the doctor’s death, she seems to completely overlook my lack of discipline.
She takes a step back and sits on the desk. Her chin trembles for a slight moment, but she closes her eyes, swallows her tears and gets back up. She asks me if I know who did it. I lie and tell her that I have no idea who could have done it.
I ask her if we can search the doctor’s office. She walks me there. The room is a bit of a mess. Although that may only be so from my point of view. Maybe it’s in perfect order in the eyes of someone with a privileged brain, such as Dr. Vodnik’s.
I ask her if he had written down the last seed he cracked. The blond woman hands me a napkin. A number has been hastily written on it. Underneath it, the doctor also wrote “The Bear”. I ask her what he meant by that. She shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. I ask her where he got the seeds from. She explains that it’s a complex method of manually scanning through whatever remaining documents we have found, look out for patterns and use them to create a seed. Each seed is a string of what seems like a series of random numbers and letters. But within this seed is an encrypted algorithm. Sort of like a puzzle. Once the doctor was able to crack the algorithm, he’d use segments of the numbers as starting points, and that would give him a final result: a seed. This only reinforces the doctor’s overwhelming talent. Issue is, every seed has its individual decryption algorithm. She points out that, although she’s able to decode a seed once the algorithm is decrypted, it is a lot more difficult to actually find the individual algorithm for each seed.
What’s clear is that the doctor intended to use this seed in our next trip, but he’s no longer here to authorize it. The decision now lies on his assistant.
XIV
Staying at the hospital has turned out to be a good idea. I was able to talk with the veteran soviet soldiers and hear their tales of the war. I kept asking if any of them knew my father. The chances are slim, but it’s worth trying. It’s also good to speak Russian again. It’s like being back home. I wish I could have had a chance to get out of the premises and visit my sister, but even I know that’s not a bright idea. I just feel bad that she hasn’t seen me in ten years. Then again, has she? How can I be so sure there’s not another version of myself from the future out there right now? Maybe I did return to her after all. Maybe she’s with me right now. Or maybe I never did return to her. That sounds more akin to something I would do. I would be too ashamed to show my face after so long, and the longer I spent not seeing her, the harder it’d be for me to gather the courage. I wonder if she’s married. Hopefully to a nice man. She deserves a good man. Someone better than her selfish brother. Maybe she has kids. In fact, maybe she’s completely moved on. Maybe she’s too busy to keep looking for her brother. I hope that’s the case. On the other hand, I also selfishly do hope she tells my nephews about me.
What am I saying? I don’t even know if she has children at all, and I’m already behaving like an uncle. Besides, she’s always been a free spirit. Most likely, she’s still single, focusing on her career rather than getting involved in mindless love affairs. All I really hope is that my superiors at Wünsdorf gave her a good explanation for my disappearance. Best explanation they could have given her is that I am dead. It’s the only way she’d be able to move on in the long run.
Stop talking bullshit. Focus. There are more important things to worry about. We’re back in the booth. Remember. Salt. Salt. What else? Salt… Seeds. Yes. Oh, the map. Map.
Her beautiful face pops into the porthole. She’s smiling. She winks. It’s hot inside here. It’s getting hotter every instant. It seems different than the last time. It’s too hot now. I’m burning. And then, out of nowhere, a rush of ice cold air blows my body against the back wall.
I am crawled up like a wounded animal. I feel even weaker than in the last trip. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy. I look up at the porthole above me. I see some light coming in. At least this time there’s someone waiting. Wait! Who’s waiting?
The door opens and a cold breeze dries the sweat on my naked body. Two white coats stand before me. I look up. It’s blurry. I don’t recognize their faces. One of the figures speaks in German. Wait. Is that…? I recognize the voice. I call out Dr. Vodnik by name.
Silence.
After a moment he replies, in Russian. To my surprise he asks who I am.
I ask what year it is. He refuses to reply and insists I first answer his question. I state my full name. As my eyes adjust to the light, I am able to make out the laboratory behind him. It’s a little run down. I wonder what location we’re at, and what year it is.
I am shivering. I ask for a blanket. The doctor waves behind him and a make out the shape of a soldier approaching. The doctor stretches out his hand towards me. I hold on to it and he helps me stand up. I walk out of the booth and immediately realize the room is lit up by working lights, all connected to generators.
The doctor keeps asking me questions at a rate that I can’t keep up with. The blanket finally arrives. I regain some consciousness and recognize the second person in the white coat. She is young and radiant. Possibly in her late twenties. Not much older than I am. Unlike with her, it’s hard to tell the doctor’s age. Dr. Vodnik has reached that age when old people are simply permanently old.
I come to my senses and immediately ask for salt. The three witnesses are taken aback by my request. I insist and explain that it is vital. The doctor motions the soldier once again. He nods and exits the room.
The doctor holds me by the shoulders and queries if I’m a German soldier. I shake my head. I now realize this is the first time they’ve ever seen me. I explain that I am not from the past, but from the future. I describe in detail how he hired me for the position and what my purpose is.
He’s skeptical. I can tell. But intrigued nevertheless.
I take advantage of the doctor’s pensive silence and ask about the current year. He says it’s 1950. I ask for the location, and although he’s hesitant at first, he reveals that we’re under the Resurrection Church. It looks very different though. They’ve only recently discovered it and had just started cleaning it up. They have no idea what this place was. Most amazingly, they’re baffled by the fact that the time booth turned on by itself, as there is no running electricity in the whole facility. He blabbers on about the possibility of wireless electricity, the Tesla coil and how there may be an undiscovered source of energy. He then immediately asks if I know of other locations. I slowly get on my feet and walk towards a worn-out map. I point with
my finger the different locations that I can remember.
He takes a pen out of his pocket and marks the spots with an “X”.
I soon realize it wasn’t a good idea to stand up yet. My vision blurs and a moment later I pass out.
1950
IV
It’s strange to have the chance to spend time with a dead person. Looking at the doctor and knowing that he’s already dead is an unsettling feeling. I am tempted to disclose the details of his future, but I recall the dangers of revealing the future. I do get the impression he senses I am hiding something. At the same time, I try to find out what could have driven me to kill him. But maybe it’s too early. Maybe he doesn’t even know it himself. I decide to trust this earlier version of the doctor for the time being.
He’s been kind enough to let me sleep in his own apartment. Then again, maybe he only agreed to it so that he could drill me for information. Unfortunately I don’t have answers to most of his questions. I explain that I am only a traveller. I have not developed this technology nor have I directly been involved in its research. I playfully remind him that he’s the genius here, not me. He will just have to wait and discover the answers during the following years.
I haven’t left the house in over a week. They brought me directly after I passed out at the lab. We do have a good view of Berlin from here though. The doctor has settled in an impressive apartment in Prenzlauer Berg, with a balcony that oversees the Wasserturm, Berlin’s oldest water tower. Unfortunately it was also the location of the very first nazi concentration camp, only a few years ago. From what I can discern in the distance, beyond the tower, Berlin is in an even worse state than it was in the 60s. Reconstructions are still taking place and most of the city still shows traces of the heavy bombing suffered five years ago.
The Berlin Paradox Page 5
