Radio Underground

by Alison Littman

  I know I possess little time before the radio suffers from complete and utter jams. Now I have to decide whether I will hold my promise and take Eszter in my company. The thought of returning to her capsule is holy daunting. The more worse thought, however, is that she has perished from her sickness. The more more worse thought after that is that she is going to get executed.

  Please help me in the confidence that I will be doing all that I can to ensure my safe delivery to your whereabouts. And, please, play “Downtown” for Adrienne, with many attempts so she can hear it.

  Sincerely,

  Mike a Korvinközből

  Desire is fuelled by all, but fulfillment. —Ernő Osvát

  Eszter Turján

  February 26, 1965

  Memories feel so thin now, translucent and fleeting, like ghosts of dreams I can’t remember. I see Dora’s face, her beautiful, slight eyes, and her olive skin. She gets closer to me, and her cheeks shimmer with tears. I reach out to wipe them away. She backs up, farther and farther, until she fades into blackness, like I am going blind.

  I should have told her goodbye so many times, but it feels like too much effort. It feels like trying to climb stairs when you’re feverish. If you take the wrong step, you’ll smash your teeth or break open your head.

  I am this bare and dank cell. That is really what is inside of me, and it makes sense. I try to conjure Dora’s face, and still there is blackness. I can’t remember, but I have nothing to remember either, because the past is not who I am. It is not my life anymore.

  The lights flash off, flash on three times, then off permanently. I know that my time is coming. The guard told me today in a whisper, “Just a few more days, Eszter. Just a few more days that I get to enjoy you.”

  He howled with laughter until he finished and, whistling, he walked out of my cell and down the line of us, his victims. When he distracts himself, I listen to my lovely music on my lovely radio that I convinced Ferenc to bring me.

  If only Laszlo could see me now. Does he know I’m going to take his note seriously and leave here forever? The man who consumed my fantasies and my reality for years boarded up his heart from me and now, only now, is coming back. My anger flashes, like lightning that electrifies me.

  So I can hear Laszlo, so I can curse him, I stay up all night until Laszlo’s voice permeates every inch of my skin. I scratch myself all over, trying, trying to hurt him. He is crawling inside and outside of me, and I dig into him until blood is underneath my nails.

  I used to convince myself he got on Radio Free Europe to give me a sign that he was alive, thriving, and would soon come after me. He said that’s true, but it’s not.

  Ivan must be in charge. If he knew about my little plan, he would enact the jamming in full force and find a way to get it into this cell, to infect my radio. If I die, it would be easier for him. If I leave Hungary, well, what then? There is no freedom from here, just a chain of more prisons that, though open, would be just as suffocating as this one. There is no prison that will set you free. There is no prison that will set you free. I write this on the wall with the specks of blood coming from my fingers, from where I scratched out Laszlo.

  I am forever imprisoned because of what I did to Dora. I am more scared of death than an eternity of confines. I am more scared of not existing, even though I don’t deserve it. I live not for meaning, but for inertia. To make meaning of your life is what they will wish upon me. I can tell. Ferenc’s eyes beg for connection, but what he doesn’t understand is that I am past meaning. I am breathing, and I am sitting, and I am scratching, and I am shouting, and that is the sum of who I am. It’s not enough for Ferenc, and it wouldn’t be enough for Dora. But it is enough for me that I won’t let the brute mechanics of my body stop.

  I will never know love again. I will never know friendship or family. I will know breath. I will know sleep. I will know hunger. I will know pain. I will know I am alive.

  I hug the radio so tight because I heard the code. I heard it so clear, so very loud and clear. I am ready.

  Tonight Ferenc abandons me. It’s only a matter of time until he returns. The next time he comes, it’s the last, I decide. I am leaving with him.

  Mike a Korvinközből

  February 27, 1965

  Dear Uncle Lanci,

  I am writing this letter with the immense hope that tomorrow I will be at your doorstep. I persevered to hear the code at midnight, but it was jammed. If the jamming pursues forth, I will melt in fears and desperation. I cannot think atop this now. I have to proceed and proceed.

  I said goodbye to Adrienne, which was the most pain I have endured in an enormous time. She was nuzzled in her usual corner on my bed and she looked so perfect, her skin translucent with the moon’s flittered light.

  “Adrienne,” I said.

  She jolted awake with her eyes globed to the back of her skull. I thought I had invoked a heart attack on her.

  “Yes?” she squeaked.

  I think she knew in her dreams what was happening or about to happen. She pinched her eyes into petite holes to see me. I glossed her cheek with my hand.

  “What?” she queried me severely.

  She was the most perfection of a sister. I wanted to tell her that, but she would get even more scared for my delaying of the news. I wished I could have bestowed upon her more. I was the one who failed, who couldn’t deliver the love to her. That is why I would bring Mom back.

  “Adrienne …,” I coursed gently times two. “I’m leaving.”

  A singular tear escaped vigorously onto my cheek and then her bed. But she did something so marvelous, Uncle Lanci, something so surpassed her current age. Adrienne nodded. Instead of pestering me for details, she leaned her head atop my arms. I could tell she had been crying too because a petite wetness sprung on my arm. Without lifting her eyes, she reached her hand beneath her bed and procured a folder.

  “Refrain to open this now. Wait until Munich. It’s everything I’ve assembled about Mom.”

  Adrienne, she is my one hundred percent amazer. That she would even cobble together any information on Mom, and how she did it, dumbfounds me. I wanted aggressively to have knowledge of what was in there, and it was more fuel for me to go to Munich. I had to pay back and forward her efforts.

  “Okay, I promise.” I kissed her hands, then her cheek. I delivered her one last hug, and when I felt her petite back drop into my hands, I permissed my grief to suffocate me for a second. I rose, in fears that if I stayed by her side any longer, I wouldn’t leave. She offered me the comfort of seeing her retreat back toward bed. I pulled her blankets up until they settled under her chin.

  “I’ll miss you,” I said.

  “I love you,” she said.

  And with that I walked past Adrienne’s bed and pushed into the dawn.

  The sun commences rising now, and I have decided there is no turning aback. Today is the day. It won’t be enough time to meet Anika. Please make the announcement to Anika that Mike loves her and will miss her. This is my last hope, this letter I’m going to drop off in Varga’s mailbox right now. Thank you, is the sum of what I want to say to you. I’ll see you on the other side.

  Sincerely,

  Mike a Korvinközből

  Desire is fuelled by all, but fulfillment. —Ernő Osvát

  Dora Turján

  February 27, 1965

  Dora’s feet crashed into the sidewalk, propelling her forward in a manic sprint. Her hair fell out of its tightly-wound bun, sucking up the wind as Dora fought against the cold currents of air. She tucked her hair behind her ears, into the mounds of sweat running down her scalp.

  “Almost there,” she repeated to herself as she shouldered past commuters shuffling out of Nyugati Station as if it was any normal day. Except, it was not a normal day. A glitch in the radio broadcasting system tore through Budapest, and now static plagued every single channel, two days ahead of schedule.

  Something must have happened. Tomasz probably left the jamming equi
pment on by accident. Dora had read Ferenc’s most recent letter. Today or early tomorrow, Ferenc would try his luck at escape, hopefully with Eszter in tow. If not, she would be executed.

  Dora pleaded with her body to deliver her to the Radio Budapest offices as soon as it could. The streets jabbed at Dora in sharp angles, siphoning her into different directions, exhausting her legs, and her lungs. As cars puttered by her, Dora heard a ludicrous course of static rising up around her, taunting her.

  When she finally reached the office, she realized the futility in her rushing. Alone at the station, without Tomasz, she couldn’t stop the jamming. As she messed with the switches, pressed power buttons on and off, and tried, even, to put the dreaded classical music on the airwaves, the seconds bore forward, toying with Dora’s patience. After snapping all the plugs out of their sockets and watching the lights on the switchboard extinguish, the jamming barreled on.

  “Dora?” a weary voice floated from behind her.

  “Tomasz! Thank God.”

  “What are you doing here? Didn’t expect to see you today ….”

  Dora stood up and scratched her back. She raised her breasts as she did so, hoping that might help her win some ground with Tomasz. “I noticed the jamming got off schedule. I know that we’re supposed to be very strict about following it.”

  Tomasz looked past Dora, failing to fall for her ploy. “I could have fixed it on my own.”

  “I wanted to be here in case you needed help.”

  Tomasz scanned the switchboard, its buttons in disarray. “I have never seen someone so eager to help.”

  Dora swallowed the lump growing in her throat. She wanted to escape to a dark corner and be completely alone, free from the discomfort of breaking rules or persuading others to do so. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she was trying to make a better life for her and her family, so that there would no longer be any darkness to hide in.

  “Of course, if you don’t want to stop the jamming I could go get my dad …,” Dora said.

  “No, no let’s not do that,” Tomasz frowned. “Here, take a seat.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved she wouldn’t have to act on her bluff.

  She tried to make small talk with Tomasz as he fiddled with the equipment, but the more she said, the more stressed he seemed. She finally stopped talking altogether, only to hear Tomasz cursing below the stubborn static.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to fix it?” Dora asked as the minutes wore on.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well,” Tomasz said. “Our equipment isn’t causing the jamming. It’s coming from somewhere else ….”

  “But where?”

  “I think you can guess.”

  “My dad,” Dora sighed. Surely Ivan didn’t know about Ferenc’s plan. He had to be orchestrating this jamming for some other unknown reason. She needed to talk to him. The room suddenly became very warm. Dora lost her balance as she tried to stand up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I have to go.”

  “Why don’t you stay here a little longer?”

  “No,” she said, clearing her throat. “I mean, I really need to do my job and see that we’re on track.”

  Dora skirted around Tomasz, who seemed to be trying to block her path to the door.

  “We can figure this out together.”

  “It’s okay, thank you!”

  “Wait!” Tomasz caught up to Dora, grabbing her arm. The look in his eyes—as if Dora’s next step would somehow devastate him—made her stop.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Tomasz whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I overheard a conversation between you and Ferenc.”

  “What?” Dora had to sit back down. She thought she might get caught one day, but not by Tomasz. She wondered if Ivan had been having Tomasz spy on her. She felt trapped, and because of that, incredibly anxious. Her knees started twitching as she wracked her brain for some sort of excuse to use. “I don’t know a Ferenc.”

  “It’s okay, Dora. He’s my friend. I saw you guys talking the other day. I was going to come say hi, but I stopped when I heard him calling you Anika. I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then, later on, when I saw him again, he told me about his plans.”

  “There are no plans.”

  “Dora, I’ve known him since we were boys. He wouldn’t lie to me. I know about Eszter, and that she’s your mom.”

  Dora couldn’t deny it any longer. Tomasz was smarter than she thought. “Did you tell anyone? Did you tell him?”

  “No, of course not.” Tomasz put his hands on Dora’s shoulders, peering straight into her eyes. “If you can get me into the room where the master equipment is, I can disable it.”

  “You can?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why would you want to help me?”

  “It’s one little thing I can do to fight this crap.” Tomasz kicked the switchboard, rattling the knobs and scuffing the base. “And Ferenc deserves to get out of here.”

  Dora hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll be back.”

  *

  In the crowded locker room, Dora slipped out of her clothes and wriggled into a loaned bathing suit, two sizes too small for her. The smell of sulfur flooded her senses, so much so she could taste it in the back of her throat. Two women, about her mom’s age, were complaining about the size of the towels, so small they could only dry sections of their hair at a time.

  A swell of dizziness overcame Dora, her body struggling to calibrate to the speed of her new, subversive life. She leaned against a closed locker, her back cooled by the metal supporting her. She counted to three and tried to imagine swimming in Lake Balaton on a warm day.

  She had rushed to the Széchenyi baths, where she predicted she would find Ivan, after seeing an appointment on his calendar marked “Boldiszar.” He used to go to the baths with Boldiszar every week, and Dora assumed Ivan, a creature of habit, had kept the timeslot. Maybe this was his small way of honoring Boldiszar, though Dora couldn’t decide how she felt about that. After rushing to the baths, Dora realized she had no idea how she would approach her dad, let alone ask him to potentially break the law, his law, for her. Yet if she somehow figured out how to unjam the radio furtively, what would Ivan do if he suspected Dora was up to something? Would he make someone follow her? Would he assign her to a job that required constant supervision? Would he mandate she work by his side every second?

  She managed to reel in her thoughts as she walked out of the locker room, her bathing suit carving valleys into the space above her hips. She found Ivan sitting in one of the smaller baths, his eyes closed, arms spread on the ledge, and his head facing the high ceiling.

  “Dad, hi ….” Dora slipped into the warm water next to Ivan.

  “Dora? What are you doing here?” Dora noted a slight degree of fear in his voice, as if she caught him doing something wrong.

  “I wanted to come relax, things have been really stressful.”

  “I never thought you would ever join me here. It was always ….”

  “Boldiszar. I know.” Peering through the steam passing before her eyes, Dora imagined Boldiszar lounging on the side of the bath, nodding solemnly as Ivan lectured him on the importance of pursuing a career in government. “So, how are you?”

  “Same as always. Tonight, I’ll be speaking at the rally.”

  “I’m glad I caught you first.”

  “I’m glad you did too!” Ivan said, shades of the cheerful dad she once dreamed about coming through. “How has the job been going?”

  “The radio, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, great. Except today, the strangest thing happened … it just started jamming.”

  Ivan ran his fingers along the ridges of the pool’s imperfect casing. “That’s right … I should have warned you ….”

  “I was hoping I could help get it back
on schedule.”

  “The jamming decision was made above my head. It came from the top, from Kádár himself.”

  “But, why?” Dora asked, trying hard to temper her frustration.

  “It’s a long story, and I don’t know all the details.”

  “It didn’t seem like Kádár, or anyone else, used our jamming equipment today though.”

  “He keeps additional equipment in the ministry, just in case,” Ivan said. “Remember, Dora, always build redundancy into your systems.”

  “Redundancy … yes ….” Dora knew exactly who had access to the keys that unlocked all the rooms in the ministry. Dora tried to maintain a pleasant level of small talk for several minutes before excusing herself. She had just the information she needed.

  *

  “We have to find Ferenc so he can give Tomasz access to the jammers in the ministry,” Marta said, after hearing Dora’s story.

  “It’s the only way,” Dora agreed, trying not to think about how, at this time tomorrow, Ferenc and her mom might be in a completely different country. “But where will we find him? He could be anywhere ….”

  “That’s not true. Your dad’s rally is starting soon. Ferenc will be there if he knows what’s good for him and his family, especially before he flees the country and leaves them to answer questions.”

  “We’ll never find him there.”

  “We have to try.” Marta grabbed Dora’s hand and began leading her toward Hősök Square, where the rally was set to take place.

  Under the banner of a black, starless sky, thousands of young people flooded the square. Blinding lights illuminated the masses as barricades funneled them toward the stage, making it seem even more crowded than it already was. The reluctant participants, most likely attending for their own protection, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, smoking cigarettes and gazing half-interested at the minute figures on stage. Dora and Marta could barely move through the crowd, let alone go in search of Ferenc.