The Journey

by H. G. Adler

  It was really easy, especially at night, as long as there was no blackout, since then no one had to risk guessing whether you were in a certain or uncertain place. But now you found yourself in an uncertain place. It was not even a place anymore, and perhaps any connection to an actual address disappeared when they took down the sign

  DR. LEOPOLD LUSTIG

  General Practitioner

  for now nothing of what once had been was allowed to remain. Thus there was nothing more at all, though memory refuses to accept this, striving continually to give order and shape to it all.

  Something can be placed on every step, but Frau Lischka will be upset when she sees how her stairwell has been trashed. The hallway has to remain clear no matter what. The steps are for walking, not for sitting. Just keep moving forward, and no tripping! Whoever takes care reaches out in the darkness to feel his way. The inhabitants are lucky if they know the way, because then they only need to count the steps and they already know where they are. And in like manner memory also counts, the living do not lose themselves carelessly in a present that can be so difficult to bear. To them the past is at their service, ever regressing memory planting its sensation less so in jittery hands than in the feet, which is also why we protect the feet with good shoes. Whoever is afraid of getting lost, which many do, stops on the landing or presses himself against the wall the whole way down, thus rendering the stairwell safe.

  Paul closes the door to the apartment behind him and thinks about what he has left behind. Now Frau Lischka no longer has any say and has to keep quiet when her stairs are muddied. Behind the door above, everything has been left behind but not forgotten; it’s there, simply there. No one can go back, the stairs will not have their soundness tested again, and who knows whether or not these are the last steps that will be allowed upon them. The rattle of keys when the doors are locked sounds as familiar as ever, it was the same burst of clanging as ever, followed by the feeling of safety; the apartment was still there, we would see it again, healthy and unharmed, ready to receive us. But now the key is pointless, you might as well leave it in the mailbox so you won’t have to take it along on the journey. How ridiculous it was when one of the messengers advised Paul to make sure and lock up.

  “Apartments left empty will gladly be looted!”

  “Gladly looted?”

  “Gladly looted. But you still have to turn in your key.”

  The stairwell pressed toward the doors, it descended deeper and deeper as the yelling came down the frightened hallway, Down, go down! The stairs yelled out that no one was allowed to climb them. Afraid of break-ins, Frau Lischka had an ever-watchful eye. No one got past her ground-floor apartment without her noticing. “Where are you going?… Ah, to the doctor!” Her drunken husband would have let anyone slip through, but his wife never tolerated the door being left unlocked whenever she went out. On Sundays the building remained locked for the entire day, meaning that anyone who did not have a key had to ring the bell. That way nothing could be looted.

  The streets were quiet, heartened by the winter cold. The impact of the heavy steps pleased them, for that stamped life into them; otherwise the streets would have been sunk in sadness. They were forbidden streets meant to be avoided in order not to violate their pavement. Thus the streets were crossed out on the maps, no longer existing for anyone. It was too risky, danger lay in wait there, especially at night. But one must not simply accept what is forbidden once you are not worth anything. And so the streets were there again and were much longer and more beautiful than they had ever been before. They rejoiced at being granted life once again and didn’t ask to whom they owed their good fortune. Zerlina said earnestly to an intruder, “These streets are forbidden.” But the stranger just smirked and rubbed his hands. Because those words, so often repeated, no longer meant anything, for now the forbidden was allowed.

  All that had been forbidden in the world now meant nothing, for it had never been a law but rather an arrangement that rested on enforced custom. What was once taken in stride now appeared all of a piece to the law, which had the last word and did not allow anything to contradict it. Life was reduced to force, and the natural consequence was fear, which was bound up with constant danger in order to rule life through terror. You experienced what you never had before. You rejoiced over that which you were allowed, but even this did not last for long, because any such comforts had only to be noticed and the next day they were taken away. Thus the tender juicy meat was taken away since you who are made of flesh need no meat. Then they banned fat, for your belly was full of fat. They denied you vegetables, for they stunk when they rotted. They ripped chocolate out of your hands, fruit and wine as well. You were told that there wasn’t any more.

  Highways and byways were forbidden, the days were shortened and the nights lengthened, not to mention that the night was forbidden and the day forbidden as well. Shops were forbidden, doctors, hospitals, vehicles, and resting places, forbidden, all forbidden. Laundries were forbidden, libraries were forbidden. Music was forbidden, dancing forbidden. Shoes forbidden. Baths forbidden. And as long as there still was money it was forbidden. What was and what could be were forbidden. It was announced: “What you can buy is forbidden, and you can’t buy anything!” Since people could no longer buy anything, they wanted to sell what they had, for they hoped to eke out a living from what they made off their belongings. Yet they were told: “What you can sell is forbidden, and you are forbidden to sell anything.” Thus everything became sadder and they mourned their very lives, but they didn’t want to take their lives, because that was forbidden.

  Once the entire world was forbidden, and there was nothing normal left to forbid, the height of unhappiness was surpassed and everything became easier, no one having to become anxious with lengthy considerations about what to do next. Everyone did what was forbidden without a bad conscience, even though it was dangerous and they were afraid. Yet since you couldn’t do anything without feeling afraid, you didn’t do everything that was forbidden. Sad and fearful people suffered under these conditions, but others hardly seem bothered, each following his own disposition. If there seems no end to the danger, then it has accomplished its goal already; anything excessive shuts people down more quickly than a discreet act of kindness, through which alone the simple truths of the world can still be perceived. Because one could not perceive this simple truth or at least had no respect for it, everything fell apart. Nothing more could happen and therefore orders were merely carried out.

  Their gaze swept over the rows of houses and the street crossings as soon as their eyes got used to the darkness, and soon they were ready to escape, for they knew the area well and there were plenty of good places to hide. An escape was possible; it would not be too hard, since there was no one near or far who would hear them. But steps followed the women and the brave messengers accompanying them, and thus only their gaze stole forth, sending thoughts and memories ahead that thwarted cowardice sooner than weary bodies that, with the weight of all they carried, slunk along in order to avoid their proscribed fate.

  Was such servility really due to cowardice alone? Old Leopold and fragile Ida had been taken away and were waiting for Caroline and the children in the Technology Museum. Ida felt helpless and Leopold confused. Both were incapable of handling that which threatened one surprise after another. What could be done for them? There was no clear answer, but one had to stand by them and not leave, because that was forbidden. Disloyalty was forbidden, also reason was forbidden, as it belittled the will to live.

  Paul’s thoughts hardly went this far, for already he had struggled too long to vanquish the inevitable. After his battle suffered its first and, he feared, decisive defeat, he could no longer worry about every threat that occurred. Paul was extremely tired and smiled at Zerlina, who smiled back. Then Caroline smiled as well. When the others saw this, they cheered up and also began to smile, as one of them said:

  “You’re right. It’s not so bad there. You can eat pretty well.
Almost every day there’s meat and dumplings. But if they find money or jewelry or tobacco, then you’re in trouble and don’t get anything to eat.”

  “It’s not so bad?”

  “You’ll see, Frau Lustig. So many have already stuck it out. Only a few are beaten. But nobody has been beaten to death.”

  “Beaten …?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t mean anything. Only the stupid ones are beaten. Whoever doesn’t deliver or hides something forbidden. When they get caught they’re the scum of the earth … condemned.…”

  The voices defiled the street, therefore it was better to keep silent and to quietly march on with irregular steps. Legs marched now over the bridges. Each wanted to walk along the balustrade in order to gaze at the frozen river. But here it was particularly dark, and so there was hardly anything to see. Only dirty flecks of foam flickered silver-gray among the dolorous depths, and far off by the dam, where the water never froze, the thundering sound of the raging water could be heard. Here was the island on which Paul and Zerlina had often played as children. There had also been a swimming school that one could visit before such things were forbidden. There had been carts belonging to vendors who ordered colorful drinks for sale, as well as colorful ices and cheap candy, all of it meant to seduce folks with delight and requiring only a small sacrifice of money. Now the island was quiet and empty, certainly no longer ready to receive its regular visitors, and above all not the forbidden ones, especially since the island was now forbidden to everyone. It could no longer be reached, the entrance to it was closed, fenced in with barbed wire because something had occurred there that was now forbidden, and no one should know about it.

  Now the island lay behind the wanderers, sunken, an old playground to which no path led any longer. The travelers no longer thought about it, and the bridge was gone as well. Slowly the piers gave way and collapsed, sinking into one another and falling almost soundlessly onto the ice. Then the place was gone, the traffic disappeared, after which there was a long road and everything melted together, and yet another road, gone, gone, everything forbidden now finished, no longer there, not a single memory even attempting to assert itself with a shudder, the forbidden now completely dead behind the gate that was sealed tight and would last and was there and locked the forbidden up for good.

  Some halls of the Technology Museum that lay in the adjacent building had been cleaned out, nothing left in them but empty bunks and whitewashed walls. That was the gathering place for those people who were no longer wanted and yet who nonetheless were still there, since anyone who is condemned still exists before being destroyed, just as there must be a place for it all to occur, and so it all began here. Hundreds of bodies lay squeezed tightly together in the darkness that was only here and there broken by the muffled light of an occasional flashlight. But the night was constantly full of the sounds of rustling and groans.

  It was impossible to find Ida and Leopold in the darkness. In surly fashion, the nervous commander from the office in charge of new detentions recommended waiting until morning.

  “In six hours there will be enough light. You’ll find them both then. No one gets lost here.”

  But all are already lost, and it is necessary to make fine distinctions. Whoever comes too late and has to be taken in should be happy to find a little spot on which he can rest. Now it is night and you have to make sure to find a place to rest. But where? It doesn’t matter, the main thing is that you are there. The cross-eyed youth with the service cap aslant on his head smoked one cigarette after another. Wasn’t that forbidden? For a commander nothing was forbidden, and he could run off at the mouth. He could fill the reeking hall with orders, as well as with the anger that unconsciously and without restraint accompanied the power conferred on him, and that he could vent on the prisoners in the museum at will.

  Those formerly known as human beings now appeared made of wax, but they were still alive. As the morning dawned its gray, they sat upon their bundles and rocked their upper bodies to and fro, though they did not pray. They had no future, nor was the past recognizable within them any longer. “Here you can’t remember anything.” The cross-eyed youth walked back and forth among the cowering people. He was almost completely dressed in leather. It was forbidden to those whose lives had been snuffed out to wear anything upon their heads inside the halls, but Cross-Eyes wore a leather cap. In his right hand he swung a leather whip with which he could strike whenever it pleased him. And yet he didn’t harm anyone, silent threats being enough to satisfy him. Sometimes he murmured: “Soon they’ll be here, so order must be kept. No one can be sick.”

  An old woman next to Ida lifted herself up and stood in front of him: “What will it be like, Herr Commander?”

  Cross-Eyes maintained his haughty stance: “Don’t worry, don’t worry.”

  The old woman wanted to sit down again, but she lost her balance and fell backward over her bags. Others also sank down. A young woman pulled together some whining boys and girls and distracted them with games. They sang and clapped their hands.

  Amid the singing a mad woman howled: “Let me be! The soup scorched my tongue! You can’t eat my soup! I want to get out! The pope ordered it! Ha!”

  The unhappy woman began to rant. Since no one knew how to calm her down, Leopold stepped in.

  “I’ve been a general practitioner for years. The woman is delusional. Her condition is dangerous. She needs to be isolated and to have a shot of camphor. She can’t come along in this condition.”

  Cross-Eyes appeared out of nowhere. “Mind your own business, old man! She’s coming along. Regulations say so. Listen, old woman! Get ahold of yourself! If anyone hears this ruckus, it could mean trouble for you!”

  “The soup stinks! I want to get out! Let me go, let me go! The pope called me!”

  “Who does the old lady belong to?”

  No one said a word. A stretcher was brought out. Two young men loaded the ranting woman onto it, though she desperately tried to fight them off and bit one of their hands so badly it bled. Other attendants rushed to help the young men, and Cross-Eyes ordered them to strap the raving old lady down on the stretcher.

  Someone yelled: “That’s an outrage! That’s inhuman! No one declares war on the sick!”

  “Who says so? One can’t jeopardize the whole group.”

  “What do you mean, jeopardize? This madness is what’s really jeopardizing us.”

  “They should be quick and be done with it.”

  Leopold cried: “That’s not right! You should call someone who is in charge so that order is kept!”

  “I’m in charge of order.”

  “You don’t bring any order at all!”

  “What does it matter to you? Does she belong to you?”

  Caroline took her husband by the hand and tried to pull him away in order to appease them, but Leopold was very upset and didn’t want to leave the site of the incident.

  “It’s not right! This patient doesn’t belong here! She needs to be admitted!”

  Waves of subdued laughter erupted. “Admitted? Admitted? Tell us, are you perhaps free to take care of it?”

  “Caroline, this is unheard of! This case needs to be reported to the medical authorities! This is not how you treat human beings. If I had known that such an injustice was going to take place here I would have stayed home and not allowed my family to take part in this journey. The preparations for it are simply miserable.”

  Leopold wandered off, proud and angry, Caroline leading him away as the laughter grew behind him. Cross-Eyes tapped his head with the tip of his finger three times: “Totally nuts!”

  In the courtyard, Cross-Eyes stands in the first light of dawn and is wrapped up in a heavy coat. Nearby are some helpers who for the most part stand by quietly, but who at a sign suddenly start running around like raving madmen before returning to stand motionless again. They are dressed alike, but not as smartly as Cross-Eyes, for not as much leather clings to them. Some policemen plod back and forth and lo
ok up at the sky. It’s not their concern. They rub their hands. There are also three men in full battle dress with their medals and badges of honor. They are proud men who hold their little heads high with a decisive air. Their legs fidget with impatience. One of them is somewhat small and yawns, blowing a little cloud of smoke from his throat. Another one, who is their leader, calls over to Cross-Eyes, who then stands at attention after he has yanked his leather cap off his head.

  “Begin!”

  Cross-Eyes gives his helpers a sign, at which the pack fans out. One runs to the entrance and remains standing there as he pulls a list from his breast pocket and unfolds it with great seriousness. After a short while the forbidden people head through the gate in twos, bent over with the weight of their bags. They call out a number and their former name. The helper writes with his pencil and sometimes waves his list back and forth and barks at the swarm: “Faster! Move on!” The forbidden gather themselves in the courtyard and organize themselves in rows of four. Altogether there are a thousand who used to be known as human beings. Cross-Eyes marches in front of the rows, turns over his whip, and strides without a horse slowly along the length of the front row, while with the whip handle he gives every fourth man a light swat on the shoulder, calling out loud: “Four! Eight! Twelve! Sixteen!…”

  Yet not all one thousand could present themselves, even though there was space enough for a much larger group. Twenty-four members of the traveling group lay on stretchers. Between their legs and on top of them the sick ones’ belongings were piled such that they could not move. After Cross-Eyes had also counted the figures on the stretchers, he yanked his cap off his head and strode without a horse as fast as his crooked legs would carry his fat body to the mighty heroes, gathered himself together, and stood at attention.