Variant Exchange

by Fox J Wilde

  The sardonic and barely discernable voice of Joey Ramone filled the cottage’s living room as Lena looked about. Books and loose pieces of paper were everywhere, along with the odd-guitar or two. The windows were blacked out with thick curtains, but on the walls hung pictures of David Bowie and a few other musicians that Lena knew, along with large, full-colored maps. The faint scent of freshly-murdered fish and cigar smoke filled the air, and Lena felt right at home.

  “My beloved granddaughter!” a familiar voice called from behind her, before she was immediately swept up into a big bear hug.

  “Grandfather!” Lena gushed genuinely as she hugged him back. He looked every inch the erudite old codger he was, clean as a whistle and filled with wisdom. Yet the chef’s apron he wore was covered in stains of this sauce or that, and perhaps a small spatter of fish guts. She hadn’t known until now how very much she missed this dear old soul.

  “So, tell me everything!” he said hurriedly, as he motioned her over to a set of large leather chairs, “You must tell me how your show went! Did you happen to pick up any albums while you were over there? Have you heard any new music?”

  “I…” Lena stuttered, looking at Wart-face and Dragon Lady.

  As if recognizing her concern, Grandfather looked at them and said, “Thank you, you two. You have delivered my granddaughter to me safe and sound, but she will be staying the night here. I’ll drive her back in the morning.” The two nodded and left, but not before Dragon Lady fired some more poisoned eye-darts at her.

  “They aren’t so bad, once you get used to them,” Grandfather said after a few moments.

  “I’m sure they are both wonderful.”

  “Oh shut up you brat!” he laughed. “She’s a cunt. Everyone knows it.”

  “A cu…a what?!!” Lena giggled in shock. “I didn’t know you even knew those kinds of words!”

  “I’m four-hundred years old. I know every word in existence. And I can use them too. But if you use them, I’ll be cross with you—you aren’t old enough.”

  “Cunt.” Lena said, smiling mischievously.

  “Well,” Grandfather sighed as he stood, “I was preparing some fish for us. Freshly caught! But I suppose I can enjoy it all by myself.”

  “Okay, okay, okay!” Lena said quickly, “I’m sorry! I take it back! I’m sorry!”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Grandfather said, as he walked towards the kitchen, “Do you smell that?! I’m going to just love eating this right in front of you.”

  “No, please! Please! It smells so good!”

  “Well…I suppose…” he called from the kitchen. “If you truly are sorry!” before emerging with a plate covered in steaming, delicious fish.

  The two dug into their meal, attempting to devour it while talking at the same time. Despite the aged wisdom of her beloved grandfather, he still talked with his mouth full. She laughed at this. Here was a man who couldn’t be bothered to give the slightest of cares when he didn’t have to. She began to gather the distinct impression that this man was using her as an excuse to slack off.

  “Don’t think we’re meeting for you,” he laughed, as if sensing her thoughts. “My wife always has her damn sister-in-law over. Chew with your mouth closed!” he said in a high-pitched, unflattering mimicry, “Don’t make my Sister think I made a mistake in marrying you!”

  “What?!” Lena howled. “Really?!”

  “Oh, she’s so mean to me,” he confessed. “Making me wear clean clothing…making me clean off my desk…my desk! That’s my desk! Mine! And she makes me clean it!”

  “That’s an atrocity!”

  “She’s lucky she’s pretty,” Grandfather laughed. “And smarter than me, as well. Believe it or not, she’s the brains of the operation. As all good marriages are, I would reckon.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. One of these days, when you find some lucky young man to marry, you will quickly realize that you are smarter than him. All women are smarter than men—it’s the way we are meant to be.”

  “Well, then why even have them around?”

  “Because men are better at breaking things than women. It’s men’s job to do things; it’s women’s job to tell them what to do.”

  “Some of us women are pretty good at breaking things.”

  “Oh, sure you are,” he conceded. “And no doubt those of you will find those rare men who are capable of thinking. But in general, men are dumb beasts that need a woman’s touch. I’d wager that if our governments were run by women, a few things would get done around here.”

  The conversation shifted and the two talked about utter nonsense for a while. Every now and then, Grandfather would walk over to the record player and put on a new album. Lena recognized a few—The Ramones, obviously, and a few tunes from some of the others—yet many of them were completely new to her. After a few switches, he put on a record that had a scratched-up label on it. When it started playing, she recognized the voice of Johnny Rotten, even though she vaguely recognized the song. It was distorted and crackly, with far too much noise going on in the background.

  “This...” he said, walking back over, “is one of the coolest performances ever given in modern history. In Britain, they have this yearly celebration called the Queen’s Jubilee where they hold a procession on the river Thames…the river that flows right in front of Parliament and most of the important government buildings. her Majesty and her royal entourage board several boats—you know, caviar, wine, jewelry and so much more ridiculousness—and float merrily down the river, too much aplomb from the crowd.

  “Well, anyway, you have to understand that in almost any other era, the Sex Pistols would have been swiftly arrested for sedition, just by merely existing. Especially after all of their artwork which was directly inflammatory towards the ruling class. Yet, in the golden era of the 70’s—and I use the term ‘golden’ loosely) all they really received for their antics was being banned from the radio. Well, now we introduce the Sex Pistols’ manager, Malcolm McLaren, who came up with perhaps the dumbest, most irresponsible idea ever had: the Sex Pistols would join the flotilla—without permission of course—and follow her Majesty around on their own boat, playing ‘God Save the Queen’.”

  “Wait, they what?!” Lena gasped.

  “Of course, you don’t know this. There’s no way a story like this would ever make it into the GDR! But yes, they certainly did do exactly that. When the boat docked, McLaren and several of his fellow punks were swiftly beaten up by the police and thrown into the back of a police van. Nevertheless, that singular stunt got the Pistols on the airwaves, and solidified the entire Punk movement in Britain.”

  “That’s unbelievable! We would get killed for that here.”

  “Yes, you probably would. But that’s why I’m here: to help you know where that line is.” Then, with a wink, he added, “And to occasionally help you skirt that line for the amusement of your dear, elderly grandfather.”

  “Why, though?” Lena raised a concerned eyebrow. “Why in the world would you want to do something like that?”

  “Like I said, it’s amusing! I have my duties, and I accomplish them. Beyond that, I’m a lover of novelty just like anyone else. It warms my heart to come up with moronic ideas, and then see a bunch of actual morons pull them off for me.”

  “I’m insulted, Grandfather.” Lena pouted.

  “Oh, don’t be.” he added, with a wink. “But you are a moron. Anyone under the age of 35 is—it doesn’t matter how smart you are. This leads me to our next subject of conversation, however.”

  With this, he stood up and walked over to one of his desks, rifled through a stack of papers, and emerged with a few newspaper clippings. He walked back over and handed them to her, before stating, “Read them out loud.”

  “Uhm...” she said, as she perused the clippings, “Social Activists the world over are mourning the loss of
Nicht Zustimmen’s drummer, Vortecx, a gay man, who was brutally murdered in a West German alleyway last Friday.”

  Lena paused to look up at Grandfather, “Murdered? Vortecx was murdered?”

  “Just keep reading,” Grandfather said, solemnly.

  Lena stifled back emotion as she continued reading, “The University of Michigan is holding a candlelit vigil, while across the Atlantic, the University of Oxford is holding a silent protest. Feminist Spokeswoman Jenni Germane was quoted, saying, ‘If you needed any further proof of the kind of malevolence that alternative sexual expression is receiving, look no further: Vortecx was gunned down in a country that is supposed to be our ally—two steps forward, three steps back!’

  “Norwegian student leader and valedictorian at Lillehammer University, Lisbeth Ostlind, was additionally quoted, saying, ‘I don’t know much about this. In truth, I don’t know much about alternative expressions at all. And before this, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Now I see what all the fuss is about: in a world where people are murdered for private aspects of their own personal life, everyone must take pause—even those of us who aren’t of those private aspects. The laws that Norway has passed this year alone should be an example to the rest of the world.’

  “Berkeley University in America is holding a silent vigil as well, playing Anti-Gay propaganda videos produced by the American government for 48-hours to raise awareness.”

  “This...” Lena said, as tears began welling up. “I don’t know what to say...”

  “I know it’s absolutely atrocious,” Grandfather consoled her. “It’s an act of supreme and unwarranted violence, but I wanted you to know that he didn’t die in vain. I’m sure he would have preferred to stay alive; but I’m sure he would have been proud to see the shockwaves his death caused. Scandinavia, Lena! This Lisbeth Ostlind woman is someone to watch, mark my words. And I’ve heard they are even having small protests in Canada! The entire world has taken notice!”

  “I don’t like my friends being used as propaganda.” Lena said plainly.

  “Oh, it’s not Propaganda, Lena. The protests are real, and the people are experiencing real solidarity.”

  “You know, I never understood…uh, him.” Lena said honestly. “I never got him and his ‘thing’. He wasn’t a man, according to him, and he wasn’t a woman. But he was a man. Wasn’t he?”

  “I don’t understand it myself,” Grandfather sighed. “This movement is a strange one indeed. But it’s new, so I cut it slack. Besides, I don’t think it’s meant to be strictly understood in one way. I think it’s a matter of the contention itself—that a bunch of artists are doing what they are supposed to do and arguing with convention. They are questioning things, and that’s important for young people to do. And it’s working. It’s making people who wouldn’t normally ask questions ask them. I don’t agree with his point of view, personally, but I can appreciate that it meant something to him, because he meant something to me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lena said. “Why would you of all people, doing what you do, care?”

  “Because I’m an individual, Lena. When I’m at work, I’m at work; but when I’m not, I’m not. I’m not gay, and I don’t approve of gay behavior. For that matter, I don’t approve of most young-peoples’ behavior, or young people in general. I think almost everything you all do is utterly foolish. But I can still love gay folks and young people, and I can still rally to their defense when someone is picking on them. That’s what being in a community means, Lena: putting aside individual personality quirks and preferences to ‘love thy neighbor’. Vortecx, for all his individual weirdness, was still my neighbor. Just like everyone else is.”

  “I like that,” Lena said with a sniff.

  “Except for you, of course,” he added with a wink. “You’re my granddaughter. I don’t have to approve of or support your nonsense.”

  Lena smiled. He had such a good heart, and it inspired her. But she was extremely bothered by the news of Vortecx’s murder. He and Lena hadn’t really been all that close…but this…

  “Grandfather? Who murdered him?”

  “Oh dear,” Grandfather said slowly, “It’s…it’s complicated.”

  “I’d like to hear it.” she replied resolutely. “If you know then I’d like to know. He was my friend, after all.”

  “Lena, I need you to know firsthand that this is partially my fault. And I need to ask your forgiveness for that before I begin.”

  “Your fault? But why?”

  “My intention with all of this was to get you and Matt York into the same band. I knew that the youth in the GDR would accept his views, especially since they accepted yours as ‘The Mad Bunny’. I wanted to get him on this side of the wall so that we could create a punk scene that the youth would rally behind. One that would be more in line with the good socialist values that help our community grow strong.

  “In order to do that, I needed to facilitate interest. For that to happen, I needed a few of your band-mates to disappear. So, I gave them some resources. I lined their pockets with a few marks, and put them in a position to safely defect to the West where they could live out their lives doing what they wanted to do, instead of tooting our horn. They get their freedom and we get a rock-star. It should have worked. It would have worked, but...”

  “But what, Grandfather?”

  “Oh, Lena. I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what, Grandfather?” Lena asked, leaning over and putting a hand on his forearm to comfort him.

  “The Americans murdered them, Lena.”

  “The…the what?” Lena asked, startled.

  Oh, this changed everything. This was absolutely crazy. Mr. Collins and Matt wouldn’t have…they couldn’t have! They were with her the entire time. And Mrs. Schroeder would have told her. Surely, she wouldn’t have supported an organization that would…suddenly, Lena felt like throwing up.

  “I should have warned you, Lena. You work for the HVA. The HVA and the Americans obviously have separate interests. They must have known what I was up to and decided to cut my efforts off at the head. Thank God they didn’t get you, or else I would have never been able to forgive myself.”

  “Wait...” Lena stuttered. “I…I don’t understand. The…the Americans? They killed Vortecx?”

  “They did indeed, I’m afraid. And now I’m left in an uncomfortable position…and it’s a position for which I have to ask your forgiveness for once again.”

  “W-what?” Lena asked, taken aback.

  “Lena, I need you to trust me.”

  “I do trust you…b-but...”

  “Lena,” he repeated, “I need you to trust me.”

  “I do!”

  “...because I’m going to ask you a question that you don’t want to answer, and I need you to trust that it’s for your own good...and trust that I can protect you.”

  “Ok?” Lena half-agreed, although she was so very confused now.

  “I need you to tell me who you are also working for.” he said plainly.

  The cold sweats came on faster than she was prepared for. A shiver ran up her spine so quick, and her vision tunneled so rapidly, she legitimately thought that she would faint on the spot. She had been caught. Or if she hadn’t, she soon would be. She only had two choices, and both of them were terrible: lie, and be found out eventually; or come clean and face the wrath immediately. Once she admitted what she had agreed to with Mr. Collins and Matt, that was it.

  The only way out of this was to lie, and lie quickly. She imagined what it would feel like being unceremoniously chucked into a rock quarry, roughly colliding with rock and cliff as she screamed towards a maggot-filled death—all to the cackling amusement of Dragon Lady. No, she had to lie immediately. But was she prepared to lie to her beloved Grandfather? Especially on behalf of the ones that had murdered her band-mate?!

  “Grandf
ather, I d-don’t...” she started. She realized that she had stuttered. That, in turn, made her swallow. Once she swallowed, she knew she was caught.

  “Lena, you need to trust me. If you don’t trust me, I can’t help you.”

  “B-but...” she stuttered again, as she began to cry, “I’m...”

  “Lena, take a leap of faith.” he said in a comforting tone. “Trust me. Trust that I care for you, and will protect you. Take that leap of faith.”

  “I…it’s so…I can’t...” she began crying even harder. This was it. She would die knowing she had failed the only one she knew had truly looked out for her. And she would be dying for those two traitorous bastards that had…oh why her?!

  “Take a leap, Lena. Just trust me.”

  “I am working for the Americans!” she blubbered. “I’m so sorry, Grandfather! They told me so many things! They promised me things, and I believed them! I’m so sorry!”

  Grandfather pulled her over into his lap and wrapped her up in a big hug. He held her close with such warmth, “Oh Granddaughter...” he said. “Don’t you worry, I forgive you. We’ll set things right. You couldn’t have done anything too serious at this point. We can make it work.”

  The two sat for several minutes, Lena making a nice waterfall of tears on his shoulder, and him holding her close. If Lena was to die shortly after this, well, at least she had come clean about the whole thing. But she would die knowing she had betrayed her Grandfather to this level, “Oh, how wretched this is!” she thought to herself, “This is how I repay him!”

  “You know I have to ask more questions, Lena,” he said after a while. “I can make all of this go away. But in order to do that, I need you to be honest with me again.”

  “Okay,” Lena sniffed. She was fully prepared to betray the Americans if she had to. They had put her in this position, after all.

  “I’m not going to ask you what you’ve done. You’ve only been back a short time, so you’ve not done any lasting damage. To be honest with you, whoever you’ve met on this side of the Wall is worth more to me alive than otherwise, and I won’t ask you to betray your friends and neighbors. But I do need to know who you were propositioned by.”