Variant Exchange

by Fox J Wilde

  “You really think this is possible?” Vivika asked, pointing at a picture of a woman swinging a sledgehammer at a pile of shattering bricks, “That women can be that strong?”

  “Oh, those are just pictures,” Lena replied matter-of-factly. “You have to look past that stuff. It’s just there to make you feel good. You have no idea the stuff that women have actually done.”

  “Like what?”

  “Here,” Lena said, fumbling through a stack of Shönheit episodes, before grabbing a specific one. It had a bare-chested woman on the cover, breasts proudly displayed, and holding a machine-gun. “You should read this one…it has an article on Margaret Hamilton and Sojourner Truth. Margaret programmed the computers for the American moon missions. By the time she was done, the stacks of books were as tall as her. As crazy as it might sound, all the software she wrote for them was knitted together in long ropes by a bunch of grandmas!”

  “No way. You’re a liar!” Vivika exclaimed in disbelief.

  “No, it’s completely true, I swear! And that’s not even as cool as Sojourner Truth. She was a slave in America who broke free of her slavers and practically started a war. She had a gun and everything, and started a thing called an “underground railroad” where she rescued people. She was a lot like Harriet Tubman.”

  “Who?” Vivika asked.

  “Oh my god, you have so much to learn,” Lena said excitedly. “You don’t even know how much. There are some terrible things that have happened all over the world. Unspeakable things. Things even worse than we’ve gone through. But there are people that have simply stood up and said, ‘No…absolutely not. I’ve had enough.’ And then they followed through no matter what.”

  “No...” Vivika tried the words on for size, “Absolutely not.”

  “I’ve had enough,” Lena mouthed as well, smiling. “It feels good to say it, doesn’t it?”

  “It feels really good. One of these days I think I’d like to actually say it.”

  “You just did!”

  “No, I mean it. I really want to say it…for real.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Because that’s not how life works,” she shook her head, “It’s a great thing to think about, Lena. It really is. But thoughts like that belong in your dreams. If you actually said something like that to those people, they would kill you.”

  “But Vivika, they actually said that to those people. They stood up and said the words, and didn’t have the slightest fear of saying it.”

  “But...”

  “And then they went on to start wars and win them.”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t... that’s different.”

  “How?”

  “It’s just different.”

  “You know what?” Lena put her hand over her heart, “Maybe you should. Maybe we should, you know, stand up. Maybe we should do something about it, and about them.”

  “You don’t understand. These women—Sojourner, Harriet, whoever else—these women had armies. They had friends. They had money. We don’t have any of those things.”

  “No, Vivika, they didn’t have those things either. They didn’t have any help at first, but that didn’t stop them.”

  “Well they at least had guns!”

  “We can get guns!”

  “And then what?!” Vivika laughed.

  “We’ll…we’ll shoot them!” Lena laughed back.

  “We’ll just shoot them all?!”

  “All of them! Just shoot everyone with our guns! The Stasi, the police, the Soviets, the…everyone! All by ourselves!”

  Soon, both girls collapsed on each other laughing hysterically. Perhaps one of these days, they would indeed find a bunch of guns and shoot the nefarious ‘they’ …whoever ‘they’ were. But, for now at least, it seemed safer to simply fantasize about doing something. The two stayed like this, simply lying next to each other, enjoying a brief moment of peace. The past several weeks had been fast-paced and all over the place. It was wonderful to simply relax with a good, comfortable friend.

  “Vivika?” Lena said, after some time.

  “Yeah?”

  “Whoever you are thinking of…the person you want to say all of that to…you know, about standing up to him and saying you’ve had enough?”

  “What about him?”

  “He can go fuck himself.”

  “Yeah.” Vivika said quietly.

  Lena could tell that she was bothered and she wanted to ask, but thought better of it. It wasn’t a subject she felt welcome to bring up. Whatever it was...whomever he was…it wasn’t normal. It was something complicated, and she had every single right to feel the way she did. Still, Lena wanted to be a friend, and help in some way. She owed Vivika that much for not running away like the other two had.

  “You know what?” Lena said, after thinking it through, “I’ve got something to show you.”

  “She take you down easy, going down to her knees…going down to the devil at ninety degrees…”

  The sounds of AC/DC’s ‘Givin’ the Dog a Bone’ screamed out as Lena and Vivika climbed onto the rooftop. Almost immediately, Lena’s heart surged with happiness. She hadn’t been to a rooftop gathering in, what, months? Since then, almost everything had changed. She knew things now: things about these people; things about the music they listened to and who all was listening to it; things about how safe the listeners truly were. But now that she was here, she felt as if a ton of bricks had been removed from her back. All the past wrongs felt righted, and she felt a year younger. It was as if she was back to being a regular know-nothing, surrounded by the blissful ignorance of light-hearted rebelliousness. There they all sat: Mr. Müller tapping on his thighs and humming tunelessly along; Herr and Mick picking on each other and trying to take swigs of liquor when Mrs. Schroeder wasn’t watching; Janet and Jonathan arguing over nothing in particular; no one liked Lorenzo; and Mrs. Schroeder sat, seeming more than slightly aggravated at the music.

  “What in the devil are we listening to?!” she shrieked. “...’till his ammunition is dry’?”

  “Aw don’t worry about it.” Mick chimed, “He’s talking about guns!”

  “I know damn well he’s not talking about guns!” she howled back.

  “Mrs. Schroeder said a swear!” Herr cut in.

  “Shut up, you turd!” Mick yelled, punching Herr in the arm.

  “Shame on you!” Mrs. Schroeder yelled. “Shame on all of you! And you two are too young to know what he’s talking about!”

  “He’s just talking about a blowj-…” Herr began teasing, before Janet swiped him on the back of the head.

  “Shame on us?” Jonathan said, “AC/DC wrote it!”

  “Well, then shame on AC/DC too!”

  “I like it.” Mr. Müller said, “It’s a good sound. It reminds me of Led Zeppelin.”

  “Everything reminds you of Led Zeppelin.” Jonathan joked.

  “How in the world does this sound anything like Led Zeppelin?!” Janet asked, “I don’t even listen to them and I know that. They have those nasty guitars and that stupid song about the lemon, and they are always singing about “my sweet Satan” or whatever, and demons eating people. This guy just seems really horny.”

  “What song about the lemon?” Mrs. Schroeder asked.

  “She means the one where he says for the girl to squeeze his lemon so that…” Herr began with an obnoxiously wide grin, before half the group cut him off.

  “Herr, I swear I will punch you so hard,” Jonathan threatened.

  “Are they always like this?” Vivika asked Lena.

  “Worse, generally,” she replied honestly.

  “I like them!” Vivika smiled.

  As the two walked closer to the group, Mick was the first to notice. He began to throw a few immature and poorly-formed insults Lena’s way, before noticing
that she wasn’t alone.

  “…Who’s your lady-friend?” he asked way-too-politely.

  “Who are you talking too, dumbass?” Herr asked before realizing as well that Lena had a no-doubt extremely available and eligible woman with her, “Oh, uh…hey, uh, Lena…”

  “Lena!” Mrs. Schroeder cried out with delight. “Oh, we’ve missed you terribly! Come, come! Sit here and introduce your friend!”

  “Here, she can have my seat, Lena.” Herr said in a deeper voice, as he stood and tried to look like he wasn’t flexing.

  “She doesn’t want your seat, idiot,” Mick fired at him. “She wants mine!”

  “Shut up, butt-munch! You’re too young!”

  “No, you’re too young, ass-butt!”

  “Ass-butt? What the hell is an ‘ass-butt’, jackass?!”

  “Maybe she can find her own seat, gentlemen,” Janet scoffed at the two of them. “Thank you both for having the purest of intentions. But maybe our new guest would prefer to get to know the adults before the children.”

  “I’m not a child.” Mick said, wounded.

  “Yes, you are, turd!” Herr fired at him.

  Smiling, Vivika took a cushion right next to Janet and Jonathan. She immediately appeared at ease with the group as if she had instantly found the same sense of contentedness that Lena had found so very long ago. Heck, she even seemed to find some modicum of enjoyment with the two drooling boys. They were undoubtedly incubating in frenetic synapses-goo, invisibly spraying their gross little boy cooties into the air in a display of sheer wanting. “Men” Lena sighed to herself.

  “You know what?” Vivika smiled as she looked at little Mick, “I think I’ll sit by you, good sir.”

  “Uh…uh...” he stuttered. “Well, alright. Uh…”

  Herr scowled at the vile betrayal, which only made Lena smile in amusement. Sure, she knew that it must have hurt the bigger boy’s inflated sense of virility, but she just didn’t care all that much. Herr was the type of boy who always had it coming, no matter which form ‘it’ took. And Mick, well…he had it coming too, but in a slightly smaller amount—and he deserved a little attention from the girls, every now and again.

  The group sat and made their introductory statements. The boys slipped in as many big-boy words as they could get away with; Janet and Jonathan argued about married-people things; Mr. Müller berated the boys; and Mrs. Schroeder was absolutely beside herself with Brian Johnson’s lyrics as the song changed to yet another AC/DC song, ‘Back in Black’.

  It seemed that the DJ for the night was on an AC/DC kick. This happened sometimes; it was just how it was with the pirate-radio stations in the GDR. Unless you were able to tune into John Peel on Armed Forces Radio, or a set he penciled in for Radio Brandenburg, the pirate DJ’s were notoriously scatterbrained in their preferences and playlists. One night, almost a year back, a DJ had played an entire ZZ Top album front to back. With all of that in mind, an AC/DC night wasn’t surprising in the least. It didn’t matter, however, since everyone on the rooftop seemed to liked them. Even if every single song they did was exactly the same as the last.

  The group talked for some time. Everyone was surprisingly receptive to Vivika and seemed open to talk, despite not knowing all that much about her. If she was with Lena, she must have been alright, even if Lena hadn’t been around all that much, lately. Vivika seemed extremely grateful for the acceptance. She opened up completely to the group, holding back no laughter. She took Mick’s side and teased Herr, much to his chagrin. She girl-talked with Janet and Mrs. Schroeder, flirted playfully with both Jonathan and Mr. Müller, while still managing to poke light fun at them both. Kraut, the dumb beast of a mutt received belly-tickles as Vivika cooed and teased. And Lorenzo…well, she didn’t much care for him. But then again, no one liked Lorenzo.

  “Yes, I have a boyfriend, you little mutant!” Vivika snapped at Herr for likely the fifteenth time.

  “Is it Lena?” Herr fired back, trying to sound smart.

  “I’m not a lesbian, asshole!” Lena screamed.

  “No…Lena, it’s ok. I think we should tell them,” Vivika said in a serious tone, shifting gears.

  “What…you really think so?” Lena asked, nervously.

  “Yes. We can’t keep on living in this lie. We have to come out at some point.”

  “Well, I suppose. It’s the only right thing to do.”

  The two leaned towards each other, a bit awkwardly at first, but as seconds turned into moments, and moments stretched longer, neither could commit to the joke strongly enough to follow through with the gesture. Instead, both girls began laughing uproariously. Then, they laughed even harder at the sight of Mick and Herr who had just about peed themselves in anticipatory confusion. Neither was old enough to really understand precisely why they were so confused, and that made it better.

  “I think you two make a fine couple,” Mrs. Schroeder said. “It’s good to see young love.”

  “Wait…Mrs. Schroeder...” Lena tried to cut in, but she would have none of it.

  “I’m serious! I think it’s a special thing when two people love each other the way you two do. I can’t say I approve of…well, that…but who am I to judge?”

  For entire moments that stretched off into the oblivions of shock and disbelief, Lena and Vivika stared at each other, then back at Mrs. Schroeder, then back at each other. It appeared that the entire group felt much the same way. Surely Mrs. Schroeder hadn’t just…err, blessed off on a homosexual relationship the two had faked just to get Mick and Herr’s goats, had she? I mean, it was a sweet gesture to be sure…but…

  “Oh goodness.” Mrs. Schroeder grinned, “I’m just fucking with you two.”

  The group burst into raucous laughter at the expense of Lena and Vivika, who both blushed profusely. This particularly devout and old little woman had just taken them for a ride, and it smarted in all the best ways. And, the fact that she swore only made the situation that much more comical.

  “You suck at swearing,” Mick quipped. This caused the group to laugh even harder, as AC/DC’s ‘Hells Bells’ began to play.

  “You suck at keeping your mouth shut!” Mrs. Schroeder retaliated, and again the group laughed.

  For nearly two hours, the group ribbed and joshed each other mercilessly. At one point, Mr. Müller and Lena had given each other a look—a knowing sort of look—but besides that, there wasn’t the slightest hint of tension in the group. It wasn’t appropriate to hold any grudges or counts against each other. All were equally transgressing here, regardless of who knew what, or what who’s handlers thought about whom.

  As the radio played on and the conversation waned, the temperature fell a few more degrees. It was hardly intolerable, if only in comparison to the rest of the season which was morbidly cold at the best of times. Yet as the winds seemed to shift, the group fell silent with the moment. At first, it felt comfortable with a solemn sort of mutual cheer, but after a few telling coughs and sneezes, it was perhaps time for the first of the group to appeal to the nature of bedtime.

  “Well, I suppose it’s time that I finally turn these old bones in for the night.” Mrs. Schroeder said. “I’ve a lot of nothing to catch up on in the morning.”

  She turned to Lena then, and said, “Would you do me a kindness, dear, and help carry Kraut back to my apartment? I’m getting a little too old, and he’s getting a little too heavy.”

  “I can help as well!” Vivika offered cheerfully.

  “Oh nonsense,” Mrs. Schroeder replied sarcastically, “I wouldn’t want you and Lena to take romantic liberties in my home. Lena will do just fine.”

  The group laughed again at Lena and Vivika’s expense before disbanding. A few idle goodbyes, maybe a hug or two, a few more arm punches later, and the majority sidled down the fire escapes into the darkness.

  “I’ll see you in the apartment, then?” Vivika
said.

  “Sure thing,” Lena smiled, as she scooped up the dumb lump of puppy, “I’ll see you soon.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was excited to have company for the night. Thus, with a skip in her step, she started carefully down the fire escape with the blubbery-mass of sleepy-Kraut none the wiser about his present mobility.

  “How much longer am I going to have to do this?” Patrick asked Grandfather pointedly.

  Patrick had taken a while to compose himself after the night’s…festivities…and then headed directly to Grandfather’s house. Patrick knew very well that it wasn’t his real house—Grandfather was a cautious man for a reason, and his caution had to be absolute. Yet his Grandfather had been generous enough to schedule a meeting with relatively little forewarning, and the homey little domicile was calming enough. It had bookshelves filled with books no one had (or would) ever read, chairs no one would likely ever sit in, and windows that would never let in light past the thick curtain. It looked lived-in enough, despite its strict security and singular purpose.

  Patrick tried as hard as he could to keep the raw edge of emotion out of his voice. This was his own problem, after all, and Grandfather was a busy man—not to be bothered with such trivialities unless absolutely necessary. Still, Patrick was understandably frustrated. Grandfather must never know the full extent as to why, but it was important that he understood there was good reason for his frustrations. Maybe the slight limp would help provide some modicum of context.

  “Well, that depends,” he answered honestly. “It’s you and Lena’s job to facilitate the British band’s wooing by the GDR. Once he is safely in our clutches, then our debts are settled, you and I. You can leave right after that. Nothing is forcing you to stay employed by me or the HVA.”

  “I can leave? Truly?” Patrick growled with a note of aggression and distrust.

  “As I said, once our debts are settled, you are free to go where you please.”