A History of What Comes Next

by Sylvain Neuvel

  —Billie, I—

  —Forget it. You want to go, so go.

  —Billie! I care about you.

  So much.

  —Does your mother know you’re here?

  —What?

  —Your mother. Did you tell her about me?

  Touché. I don’t know why that hurts, but it does. Guilt I can live with, but I wasn’t ready for shame. What stings the most is how deliberate it was. This was meant to wound.

  —Do you want me to leave?

  Her face changed. That carefree grin of hers is gone. This is more restrained. A soft smile that barely dimples her cheeks. I don’t think it’s conscious, but part of her knows she went too far.

  She’s lifting the covers. She wants me to move closer. For a second or two, it felt like our roles were reversed, but it’s over now. Billie’s Billie, and I’m … unsettled, overconscious of everything. I feel the cold on my exposed shoulder. I feel my fingers tingling, the texture of her skin. I want her. I want to get closer and closer and never stop. Even with our bodies pressed against each other, I want … more.

  —Where did you tell her you were going?

  There was no tone here. She really wants to know.

  —To my mother? To the library.

  —The library!

  —What’s wrong with the library?

  —Is that what I remind you of? A dusty old place full of forgotten things. I’m not that boring, am I?

  That she is not.

  —I love the library! It’s full of adventure, mystery.

  —Like me!

  I … Why am I crying? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This is what I wanted. Her hand running down my side. Her lips sending shivers down my thigh. But it’s too much right now, or too little. I feel exposed like an open wound. I’m shaking like a fucking leaf.

  —Stop.

  —What’s wrong, Nina?

  —Nothing. I just …

  I can’t put it into words. I’m terrified. I’m scared of everything. Of what I am. Of leaving her. Of what Mother wants me to do, of what might come of it. I don’t want who I was to end. I don’t want this to end. I want this moment, now, to last, frozen like an ice sculpture. But it won’t. It’ll melt and disappear. Everything does.

  —I don’t want to lose you.

  —Then don’t!

  I wish it were that simple.

  —I’m afraid, Billie.

  —Of what? What are you so afraid of, Nina?

  —I’m afraid you’ll grow tired of me.

  —I will.

  —…

  —But not before I figure out what’s in that big head of yours.

  And just like that, I’m not afraid anymore.

  27

  La Vie en Rose

  1946

  It hasn’t been a year, but Germany is a different country. The bombs have stopped. The nightmare has ended, but it feels as though no one is fully awake. The Germans are in shock, stunned, stripped of who they were and everything that held their world together. It doesn’t matter what they believed in, it’s gone. They were promised the world and lost everything. Those who believed feel cheated, robbed by one man’s stupidity. Those who didn’t are defeated just the same. There’s no prize for having been ashamed early.

  The real healing won’t begin until the occupation ends. Half the men are dead. The other half are crippled, hollow. Women will face the cold and famine like everyone else, but their war began when the fighting stopped. Allied soldiers defeated the men but they won’t leave it at that. I hear the Red Army is the worst. War means rape—it always has—and this was the biggest war of all.

  Me, well, the uniforms are different but the stares are the same. I’m scared shitless everywhere I go. I see shadows that aren’t there, hear footsteps no one is taking. I tell myself I don’t believe in the Tracker, but he is everywhere around me. He’s not alone. Dieter, the SS. I see their faces everywhere, in everyone. I’m haunted by the ones I killed and the ones who would kill me.

  I swear every waiter in this café was an SS officer. I’m only half imagining things. Most of them couldn’t find a job anywhere but working tables. Breathe, Mia. Just do your job and get the hell out. If this is what it takes to keep my mother alive … I’ll do what needs to be done. Send a man to space. Shit, I’ll send everyone to space. There’ll be no one left here but Mother and me. And Billie. I’ll keep Billie. I wish she could see me now. I’m a different person when I’m around her. That’s funny. I am a different person around her. I wonder what she’d think of me if she knew what I am. She’d probably run away screaming. Maybe not. Billie doesn’t scare easy.

  I can’t think about her now. I have to focus, for real. I have some ideas, some designs I’ve been working on, but I need help. I need the Soviets, or von Braun. They’ll get it done. I just have to … motivate them enough. Mother says Moscow will have nuclear weapons in a couple of years. They’ll want a rocket to put it on. Point a hundred of those at the US, there’s your motivation. I have another idea. If it works, it’ll scare the hell out of the Americans. It’ll put the fear of God into them. I want a Soviet threat hanging over their head, literally. I want—Oh, I think my date’s here. Colonel Sergei Korolev.

  —Over here, Colonel! Please, sit down.

  God, I hate my accent in Russian. I sound … I don’t know how I sound. Weird, mostly.

  —I am here to meet with General Kuznetsov.

  I might have mentioned the general. I’m not exactly at the top of the food chain in this Soviet mess. I’m not really in the food chain, or a citizen for that matter.

  —I know, sir.

  —Sergei.

  —What?

  —Call me Sergei. They made me a colonel so I could work in military installations, but I am not a soldier.

  He doesn’t look like one. Big eyes, big chin, with an even bigger grin stapled above it. He looks like a boxer, or a baseball player. He must be near forty, but it’s like he forgot to grow out of his baby face. I like him. Even the way he carries himself is endearing. He seems … curious, not as pretentious as the others. Humble is a bit of a stretch, but he might not be as big an ass as the other geniuses I ran into.

  —I apologize, sir. The general couldn’t make it, but I can speak for him. Please sit, you and I can talk.

  —Why would I talk to you? Who are you?

  So much for that. Of all the people who could judge me, this one’s a fucking criminal! He’s a decorated genius criminal, but still. Someday, I swear, I’ll have actual power and people will have to listen to me. It would be so much easier, not to mention faster, than this degrading show I have to put on every time. Here we go again. Puppy eyes.

  —I’m terribly sorry, sir. My name is Nina.

  —Your accent, it’s—

  I know. I know.

  —I’m an English interpreter. I work in the Podlipki office. I realize you were expecting someone else. I know how frustrating that can be, but if you give me a few minutes of your time, I think you’ll like what I have to say.

  —I meant no disrespect, ma’am. It’s just that you are not in uniform, and I cannot discuss what I am doing with a civilian. I could get in trouble.

  Maybe not a dick. He’s hard to size. He is handsome, though. Quite the flutter bum, actually. I don’t know why I’m just noticing.

  —Oh. I don’t need you to tell me anything. I’m here to ask you if you’d like to be in charge of a rocket program.

  Come on, Mia. You can do better than that. You sound like a traveling salesman. Would you like to buy an encyclopedia?

  —What program?

  —The … Your program. You’d have your own team. You’d run the research.

  —I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Nina—can I call you Nina?—but no one is going to put me in charge of anything.

  I am! I’m going to put him in charge because … Because I want to. Also because Stalin doesn’t pay his people and I found someone at the Politburo who owes a shit ton of
money to the Russian mafia. Maybe I need to rephrase that.

  —What if they did?

  —…

  He’s just staring at me, smiling. Is he thinking or is he flirting with me? Still staring. This is awkward.

  —Sir?

  —Why me?

  —The work you did at the Jet Propulsion Research Institute was phenomenal. You’re … good. That’s why.

  He is good, but I picked him because he wants to go to space.

  —There were plenty of smart people at the research institute, plenty who were not arrested for treason. What makes you think they would like my help, or that I would want to help them?

  —You’re here, sir, extracting German technology.

  —They did not leave me a choice. All I want now is to go home to my family.

  —Well, you have a choice now. This is your choice.

  Except I really need you to do what I want. It’s like a choice, but with fewer options.

  —Do you know what they did to me? What the government did to me?

  —I know enough.

  He and most of his colleagues were arrested during the Great Purge. They said he was slowing down work at the research institute. Stalin labeled them “members of an anti-Soviet counterrevolutionary organization.” Korolev was tortured for days until he “confessed.” The charges against him were eventually reduced to sabotage. He got a new trial. Only he didn’t know. He was already on his way to the gulag. He went to a gold-mine prison with six hundred people. Six months later, when they found him, there weren’t even two hundred of them left. Now he has to work for the people who did that to him.

  —I’m not sure you do. Look.

  —EWWWWW. GROSS!

  Shit. I can’t believe I said that out loud, but the man just handed me all his teeth! Seriously, who does that?

  —I—

  —I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean that. I just—Who did that to you?

  —Scurvy did that to me.

  —Oh. I thought—

  —Yes. The torture was bad but not as bad as the cold.

  —I’m terribly sorry for what you went through, Colonel. I am.

  —Sergei, remember? You do not have to be sorry, you did not do anything. But if this is my choice like you say, then my answer is no. I do not want to build weapons for them anymore.

  Oh, no. I could be curling up under the covers with Billie right now but I’m here, doing this. Time for a speech.

  —I … I think you’re lying, sir. I’m sorry. I do. I think you love science more than anything else. You send things up on a world designed to keep them down. I think you’d build rockets in your backyard if the government didn’t want your help. Regardless, I think you’ll want to see this through.

  —See what through?

  —Space. We’re going to space.

  —Ha! You are funny, young lady. No one cares about space. No one. What people want is to make bombs. Always more bombs, until we all vanish without a trace.

  He’s a pessimist. He seems happy, though. A happy pessimist. I don’t know why but I like that. Expect the worst in people and you’ll never be disappointed, I guess. Maybe that’s happiness.

  —You do. You care.

  —…

  —I know you, sir, a bit. I know you’ve read The Problem of Space Travel by Potočnik. You’ve talked about it. I know you’ve thought about going up there, what it would mean, what it would take. Yes, they’ll want you to build missiles, but the rockets are the same. There’s also something special I’d like you to work on. I want to send something up there. I want to send it up and not have it come down. You can do that, can’t you?

  —You said I.

  —What?

  —You said I want to send something up there. I don’t want it to come down. I, not they, not we.

  Oops. I might have gotten carried away a little. Am I in trouble? No. I don’t think so. This is the one good thing about not being a white man. It won’t be hard to convince him I’m just a spectator in all this.

  —I don’t know what you mean.

  —Who are you?

  If I could answer that question, I probably wouldn’t be here talking to him.

  —I told you, my name is Nina. I’m an—

  —An interpreter, I know.

  —It doesn’t matter who I am, sir. Pretend I don’t exist. But if you say yes, you’ll have your own department. They’ll want a working V-2 before they let you build anything new—they have no imagination—but you can use any of the German scientists to get it done. Then the fun begins.

  —I could use any of them?

  —Any of them. You can have Gröttrup. You can have his entire team if you want. All you have to do is say yes.

  —…

  —Please say yes.

  —No.

  —NO?

  —No. I am sorry. You are right. I love this with all my heart, but not as much as I love my family. I have put them through enough already. When they let me out of prison last year, I had not seen my wife in five years. I have been away from my daughter for most of her life. Like I said, I will do what they want me to do but I am not staying in Germany. I will go back to Moscow, back to my family.

  —That won’t be a problem, sir. You can see your daughter—Natalya, is it?—every day. You can see your wife. You can take her to work.

  —I will not bring them here. They have a life at home.

  —Of course not, we’ll do everything in Moscow.

  Almost. I’ll set them up on Gorodomlya Island, about a hundred miles northwest. They’ll be part of a new research institute I’m getting our man at the Politburo to create. Everything will be in one place, close to home.

  —In Russia? But the Germans are here, in Germany. That is … why they are called Germans.

  —You let me worry about that, sir. All you have to do is say yes.

  Time to get ourselves some Germans.

  28

  It’s a Good Day

  Hmmm. That beer is good. I’ve earned it, even if Mother will be mad. I can hear her already: “Mia! Did you kidnap seven thousand people?” It does sound kind of bad when you put it like that. I’ll admit, what I did was a little radical, but she said herself we couldn’t keep things the way they were. I had to do something. That was something. It was really something.

  Technically, I didn’t kidnap anyone. We asked them to come to Moscow. I even wrote them a note. “As the works in which you are employed are being transferred to the USSR, you and your entire family will have to be ready to leave for the USSR. You and your family will entrain in passenger coaches. The freight car is available for your household chattels. Soldiers will assist you in loading. You will receive a new contract after your arrival in the USSR. Conditions under the contract will be the same that apply to skilled workers in the USSR. For the time being, your contract will be to work in the Soviet Union for five years. You will be provided with food and clothing for the journey which you must expect to last three or four weeks.”

  Okay, we weren’t really asking, but you can’t just ask thousands of people if they want to move to the Soviet Union. Some of them are bound to be less than enthusiastic about the prospect of living under Stalin. I was. So maybe it wasn’t the most voluntary thing ever. We told them they were being mobilized. At gunpoint, yes, but kidnapping is throwing someone in the back of a van. These people packed their things. They brought their books with them, photos, even furniture. I mean, in theory, they could have said no. I don’t think they’d have shot anyone.

  We had to get them all at the same time before the word could spread, so we did it in the middle of the night. We let them pack their belongings. Some even took their pets with them. It’s definitely not kidnapping if your pet comes along. I don’t know why I’m justifying myself. Mother wanted me to be in charge, that’s what I came up with. If she doesn’t like it, she can take care of things.

  It wasn’t even that many people, around twenty-two hundred engineers. But their fam
ilies came with them, so … more. Oh, who am I kidding, it was fucking spectacular! A hundred trains. A hundred! Moving von Braun’s people looked like a small-town parade compared to this.

  Calm down, Mia. It’s a good plan. The Russians won’t trust anyone with new technology, especially not the Germans. We use German scientists to get the knowledge they have now, but we don’t give them any new information or let them in on new projects. In a few years, their knowledge will be outdated and they won’t pose a threat to anyone. They can go home, no one will care. I’m saving their lives, really. Okay, maybe not. Still a good plan.

  Mother, well, she’ll get over it. Unless she finds out how much money I spent and who I spent it with. She told me that the Russian mafia had this “code,” that they would never work with government. Well, that’s changing now, and this guy at the Politburo owed them a lot of money. Like a lot a lot. He doesn’t anymore. He just doesn’t know.

  All in all, I think I did pretty well. I got myself a rocket program, a research bureau full of German engineers, and I even have someone to run it. Oh, and I didn’t get killed, by the Tracker or anyone else. I think I earned myself a beer.

  One beer. Then I’ll go.… I’m nervous all of a sudden. I tried not to think about it. I told Mother I had to come. I told Billie. Hell, I tried to tell myself, but let’s face it, I could have done all this from Moscow. This is why I wanted to come. I don’t leave Berlin until tomorrow, and Bad Saarow is only an hour away.

  29

  As Time Goes By

  I don’t remember ever being here. I feel like I’m in a brochure. Beautiful lake. Birds chirping on cue. Even the sun’s angled just right. Everyone’s smiling, all the time. It’s like they put something in the water. It’s gorgeous. I just feel really … out of place. I also wish I knew what I was looking for.

  “I didn’t think you’d come back, not after what happened in Bad Saarow.”

  Something happened here, only I don’t know what that something is. I just hope it was newsworthy or I’ll have spent the day digging through the local paper’s archives for nothing. I have hope. I mean, the bar for newsworthiness is … low. Heavyweight champion Max Schmeling at the local golf club. Plans for a miniature train. Oh, the town choir won some kind of prize.