Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx)

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Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx) Page 26

by Dmitry Glukhovsky


  Everybody who passed it generally didn’t have to fear for his life but his mind could be damaged.

  Homer had been there a few times but never noticed anything out of the ordinary. He knew all legends and had an explanation for every single one of them. So he was hoping that the station would remain dead once more and lay abandoned like in better times. But around one hundredth meters in front of the Polyanka he noticed the electrical light and the first sounds echoed to him and he had a premonition.

  He could clearly hear human voices but was that actually possible? Even worse: Hunter who could normally feel the presence of all living beings even a few hundred steps before they met them didn’t seem to hear anything.

  He didn’t even take notice of Homers worried face.

  He was totally beside himself and it seemed that he didn’t know what was happening here. The station was inhabited! Since when? Homer had asked a lot of times why the inhabitants of polis had never tried to get to the Polyanka.

  They were already running out of space so why not just annex it? It was just legends that had stopped them! But had been enough for them to let this station in peace.

  But someone seemed to have gotten over their fear and built a city of tents. They had even installed new lights.

  How they were wasting electricity! Still, in the tunnel Homer put his hand in front of his eyes, to keep them from looking into bright light that was coming out of the mercury lamps which were hanging from the ceiling.

  Incredible! Even polis had never looked so clean and for. The walls weren’t covered in ashes and dirt of the last years. The marble tiles were shimmering and it looked like the ceiling had been renewed with white paint just yesterday.

  Homer looked through the arc of the entrance into the station and he couldn’t see a single tent. Hadn’t they gotten to that part, putting them up? Or did they want to turn it into a museum?

  He could believe that, after all some strange people where in charge of polis. Gradually the train platform was filling with people. They didn’t care for the to the teeth armed mercenary with his titan helmet and the stumbling, dirty old man.

  And still: Homer knew while he looked at them he couldn’t move even one bit, his legs were numb.

  Every human who had gathered at the platform was dressed like if they were making a movie about the first year of 2000 at the Polyanka. Fine coats, colorful warm jackets; dark blue jeans … People had worn those clothes before the catastrophe. Where were the coats made from rough pig leather, where was the eternal brown of the metro, the graveyard of all color? Where had it gone?

  Where did they get all this richness? And their faces!

  That weren’t faces of people who had lost their families in one moment. Those people seemed to have seen the soon not a while ago, they looked like they had started their day, like always with a hot shower. Homer could have sworn … And then … He had the feeling that he knew those people from somewhere. More and more of these wonderful people gathered at the edge of the platform without stepping onto the tracks though. Soon the colorful crowd filled the entire station, from the beginning of the station to its end. It seemed that they had all stepped out of an old photos that had been made 30 years ago.

  Still none of them were looking at homer directly, they looked everywhere, the walls, the newspapers, looked at each other in secret, out of envy or curiosity. But they didn’t look at the old man, as if he was a ghost.

  Why had they gathered here? For what were they wafting? It took him some time until he had himself under control again. Where was the brigadier? Why hadn’t he said anything? Hunter had stopped a few steps behind him. He seemed to not be interested in the station full of people. With a heavy look he stared into the room, as if was standing in front of something that was blocking his way. A few steps in front of him something must have been hanging above his head. Homer stepped closer and looked carefully under his visor … And suddenly hunter started to punch. The fist went through the air, made a strange circle to the left and then to the right, as if the brigadier was trying to stab an invisible creature with an imaginary blade. He almost hit Homer but he jumped to the side. Hunter continued his fight. He punched, stepped back, defended himself and seemed to hold on to something with his iron hard fingers, groaned in the next moment as if something was squeezing his neck and choking him with its grip. The old man felt like he had seen something similar before, just a while ago. Where and when? And what the devil was going on with the brigadier? Homer yelled his name but he seemed to be possessed by something and didn’t react to his loud screams.

  The people on the platform didn’t react to hunter; he didn’t exist for them and they didn’t exist for him. They reacted to something else, they looked at their watches, talked to their neighbors and exchanged the time with the red numbers on the electrical clock at the tunnel entrance.

  Homer closed his eyes a bit and followed the looks of the people … The stations clock showed the time where the train had departed. But the display got bigger, it now had place for ten numbers: Eight before the blinking double point and another two for the seconds. Also small red dots surrounded the seconds and only the last number of this incredible long number; it was more than twelve million, changed …

  A scream and crying.

  Homer turned away from the strange clock. Hunter was laying face down on the tracks and wasn’t moving.

  Homer ran to him and turned the heavy and lifeless body on its back. No, the brigadier was still breathing. He couldn’t see any injuries but his eyes were the ones of a dead man. His right hand was still a fist and now Homer realized that hunter hadn’t been unarmed in this strange duel. In his hand was the black knife.

  Homer slapped the brigadier a few times and he started to moan like if he was drunk. He blinked with his eyes, leaned on his elbow and looked at the old man with an unclear look.

  The picture of his dream had disappeared: The people in their colorful coats had disappeared without a trace, the bright light was gone and the dust of centuries was on the walls. The station was black and lifeless as always, like Homer had been used to on his earlier expeditions.

  Till the Oktyabrskaya the two didn’t exchange a single word. She could only hear how their guards exchanged a few whispers and breathed in sharp when they stumbled over a threshold. Sasha was angry, not so much at the musician but at herself. This … Well what? He had acted like she had thought of him. Now everything he was doing was embarrassing her a bit, but hadn’t she been too strict with him?

  At the Oktyabrskaya the wind changed and when Sasha saw the station she forgot everything else. In the last days she had been at many places which she hadn’t thought could even exist. But the glory of the Oktyabrskaya overshadowed everything. On the granite floor were rugs and you could still see their original pattern even though they were very old. The burning heads for torches, polished chandeliers plunged the room into a steady and milky light.

  Here and there were tables were people with bright faces where sitting, talking to each other tiered and exchanging papers. Sasha stretched her neck to see more of it.

  Then she said shy:” Everything here is so … luxurious”

  “The ring stations are like pork on stick over a fire”

  Whispered Leonid. “They are just dripping because of the fat … Oh and before I forget, how about a snack?”

  “No time.” She shook her head and hoped that he couldn’t hear her growling stomach.

  “Come on.” The musician pulled her hand. “There’s a place here, everything you’ve eaten before doesn’t even come close to it … Boys, you don’t have anything against a good meal, or do you?” He asked their guards. “Don’t worry Sasha, in two hours we’re there. And I didn’t just mention that with the pork on the stick out of fun. Because here they are making …”

  He talked about the meat until Sasha agreed. If it was just two hours to their goal, then there was enough time for an half hour meal. They still had the entire day and who knew w
hen she would get something to eat again?

  The stew had earned all its praise. But it hadn’t been enough, Leonid had ordered a whole bottle of sweet wine.

  Sasha was curious and drank a small glass, the guards and the musicians shared the rest.

  Suddenly she rose of her chair and ordered Leonid to do the same thing. The hardness of her voice came from her being angry at herself. Angry that she, exhausted from the food and the hot alcohol, had pushed away his hand from her knee a little bit too late. His fingers had been soft and sinful.

  Outrageous!

  Leonid raised his hands immediately as if he wanted to say: “I give up!” But she could still feel his touch on her skin. Why did I push it away so fast, she asked herself confused? She wanted to get this sticky sweet scene out of her memory as fast as possible, to cover it up with a conversation.

  “The people here are strange.” She said to Leonid.

  “Why?” He emptied the glass with one sip and came slowly forth from behind the table

  “There is something missing in their eyes …”

  “Hunger?”

  “No, not just … They don’t seem to need anything”

  “That’s because they do not need anything.” Leonid smiled. “They are full. Queen Hanza feeds them. And the eyes? Normal, dull eyes …”

  Sasha was serious again. “What we left over today could have fed me and my father for three days. Shouldn’t we have taken it with us, to give it to someone else?”

  “No.” Answered the musician. “They give it to their dogs. There are no poor people here”

  “But they could give it to the neighboring stations!

  There were people are hungry …”

  “Hanza is no charity.” Said one of the guards they called crutch. ”They can see how they get their own food.

  That’s the last thing … feeding all those no goods”

  “Are you from Hanza?” Asked Leonid

  “I’ve always lived here. As long as I can think”

  “You won’t believe it put past the ring line people need to eat too”

  “They can eat themselves for all I care!” Answered the guard angrily. “Or should we let it happen that in the end they divide everything like the reds?”

  “Well if all happens like it has happened before …”

  Started Leonid.

  “Then what? Shut up boy! What you’re talking here is enough for a deportation!”

  “I’ve already earned my deportation.” Said the musician. “But I’m willing to work on it a bit more”

  “I can deport you to somewhere else.” Thundered the guard. “Because you’re spy of the reds!”

  “And I you because you’re drinking while on duty …”

  “Well you … You did too … Come here you …”

  “No! Sorry, please excuse him. It’s all just a misunderstanding.” Said Sasha, pulled the musician away from crutch on his sleeve. Crutch was breathing heavily.

  Almost violent she dragged Leonid to the tracks, looked at the clock and sighed. Because of the meal and them arguing two hours had passed, Hunter on the other hand had probably not stood still for one second.

  The musician was laughing behind her drunkenly.

  The whole way to the Park Kultury both guards were complaining heavily. Leonid had wanted to answer them but Sasha had talked him out of it every time. He was still drunk, with his arrogance his insolence grew and the girl turned away to escape his intrusive hands.

  “Don’t you think I look good at all?” He said hurt. “

  “I am not your type, yes? You don’t like the likes of me, I would need muscles and sc-a-a-rs … Why did you even come with me?”

  “Because you promised!” She pushed him away.

  “Not because …”

  “That old song: >I am not like that.<” He sighed.

  “If I would’ve know that you’re such a mimosa …”

  “How dare you? There are still people alive there”

  “They are all going to die if we don’t make it!”

  “And what can I do to prevent that? I almost can’t lift my feet. Do you know how heavy they are? Here see …”

  Leonid tried to raise his foot and knee while he was walking. It looked very absurd. “And the people are going to die anyways. Tomorrow or in ten years. Just like you and I.

  So what’s the hurry?”

  “So you lied to me? Yes, you lied to me! Homer knew immediately … He had warned me …. Where are we going?”

  “No I didn’t lie to you! Should I swear again? You’ll see! You’re going to tell me that you’re sorry!

  Embarrassed you’re going to say: >Leonid! I was wr-o-ng …”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going, till we no longer can … To the emerald city … La-la, taram-tam-tam … It isn’t an easy way”

  Sang Leonid and was giving instructions to an invisible orchestra with his fingers. Suddenly his flute box fell down, he cursed and almost fell down himself.

  “Hey you drunk! Can you even make it to the Kievskaya?” Yelled one of the guards behind him.

  “If you pray for us!” The musician bowed before them. “Elli is coming back.” He continued the song. “And Elli is coming back … With totoschka … Back home …”

  Homer had never believed the legends about the Polyanka, but he had learnt that they were true the hard way.

  There were people who called it “the station of fate” and some looked at it as some kind of oracle. Some believed that if you made a pilgrimage to it your life would change and the curtain that had been in front of your future would be lifted, giving them insight on what was waiting for them at the end their journey.

  Some … But everybody who still had common sense knew that from the station from time to time toxic gas came out of the ground. It created fantasies and brought forth hallucinations. But to the devil with the skeptics! What could that vision have meant? Homer seemed that he was just one step away from solving it and every time his thoughts turned around. In front of his eyes hunter appeared again, stabbing the air with his blade. Homer would have given much to find out which vision the brigadier had seen, had tried to fight and which duel had brought his defeat and yes, his death”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Homers inners got cramped. Hunter had never said anything to him without good reason. A barked order, an unwillingly growled answer … How should you talk about a soul with somebody who had none?

  “Just … Nothing special.” Stuttered Homer.

  “No I can hear it.” Said Hunter calm.”You were thinking about me. Are you afraid?”

  “Not at the moment.” Lied the old man.

  “You don’t need to be afraid. I am going to leave you in peace. You remind me of …”

  Half a minute later Homer asked carefully: “Of whom?”

  “A part of me. I’ve forgotten that something like that is still in me. You remind me of that” While he struggled to say those heavy words Hunter continued to stare to what was in front of him. Darkness.

  “That’s why you took me with you?”

  The brigadier answered: “It’s important for me to keep that in my head. Very important. And for others it is important, that I … Pr it could be like … It was before”

  “It’s about your memory?” Homer felt like he was crawling over a minefield. “Has something happened to you?”

  “I remember everything!” Answered hunter sharp.

  “I only forget myself sometimes. And I’m afraid to forget myself forever. You’re going to remind me of it, yes?”

  “Ok.” Homer nodded his head even though Hunter wasn’t looking at him.

  “Back then it all made sense.” Said the brigadier tired. “Everything I did. To protect the metro. The people. My orders were clear: Eliminate all dangers. Destroy. It made sense, yes it did!”

  “But now it makes sense too …”

  “Now? I don’t know what now is. I want that
everything is like back then. I don’t do this just because I feel like it. I’m no bandit and no murderer! I do it for the people.

  I’ve tried to live without the people, to keep them save. But it was too horrible. I couldn’t forget. I had to get back to the people. To protect. To help. To remember. And there was the Sevastopolskaya. They took me in. The station had to be saved, needed help. At all costs. It seems like when I do … When I eliminated a threat … That there is something important, a big thing. Maybe then I can remember. I just have to remember. That’s why I have to get as fast as possible … It’s turning faster and faster. I have to make it in 24 hours at all costs. I have to make it: Reach polis, form a unit and go back … Keep reminding me until then, alright?”

  Homer nodded his head cramped. Even the thought about what would happen if the brigadier would forget who he was completely scared him. Who would remain in the body when the real Hunter fell asleep? But not the one … against he had lost the illusionary fight?

  The Polyanka was now far behind them. Hunter stormed to polis like a guard dog that had been let loose from its chain and had smelled the trace of its prey. Or a wolf fleeing from its hunters?

  It got bright at the end of the tunnel.

  Finally they reached Park Kultury. Leonid tried to get on the good side of the guards again through inviting them to a “very wonderful restaurant.” But the two men were suspicious. Even when he went to the restroom they only let him go after a long discussion.

  While the guards waited at the door, he asked the musician: “You still got money left?”

  “Not much.” Leonid left the restroom and gave him five bullets.

  “Give them to me! Crutch wants money for you two.

  He thinks you’re a provocateur from the reds. When he is right, here is the passage to your line. You already know. If not you can wait here until the police is coming to get you. You’re going to have to barter with them on your own though”

  Leonid tried to keep his hiccup under control.

  “So you’ve found out, yes? Of course … We will see us again. Many thanks!” He raised his hand for a strange greeting. “Listen … To the devil with the passage way! Get us to the tunnel, mhm?” The musician took Sasha’s hand and stumbled on a bit faster. “That one was good.” He mumbled.

 

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