According to the controller, everything initially appeared to be in order. The assembly line started at one end of the factory, where the raw material was poured into the blender. The finished product was packaged at the other end of the factory, a hundred yards away.
When I asked the controller if anything in particular had raised his suspicions, he replied that the sound of the factory was different. Strange noises came from a source the controller was unable to identify. He said: “They sounded like little squeals.” The controller went through the factory and checked the different stations. After some time, he realized the noise emanated from the conveyor belt.
He “stood at the end of the belt, where finished tubes were packed into boxes for transport. They wouldn’t lie still in their boxes. All the tubes, containing Facial Cream #3, were emitting faint little squeals. There was a louder noise coming from the tanks containing the paste that was about to be poured into molds. Every time the paste was squeezed into the tubes, I heard a howl.”
The controller followed the emergency protococlass="underline" he shut down production immediately, sealed the factory doors, and telephoned the office to alert them to the incident.
It was in the employee log that we found out what had caused the malfunction: the controller who had visited a week earlier to restock the preserves in the employee quarters. The pages in the log were filled with made-up, bizarre observations of the factory and the repeated claim that the machines were alive and wanted to procreate.
The products were scrapped and the factory quarantined. This is not an unusual event, and according to the commune office a year should be enough for conditions to settle. After that, production can resume as normal. Until then we will be using another factory in the vicinity.
Vanja put the papers back in the box. There was a sour taste on her tongue.
“I was on the committee a few years back,” Evgen said. “I was deposed. It’s a long story, but in any case, they offered me to resign voluntarily in exchange for a job at the library. I was entrusted with the task of redacting the archive material.” He gestured at the box. “I should have scrapped it. And I did, at first. But then I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted to know.” He looked up at Vanja. “Now I’ve entrusted this to you. You want to know. So few people want to know.”
Vanja sat in silence, staring at the box. Her hands were freezing. She shoved them into the sleeves of her anorak. “We’re the ones creating everything. Everything.”
“They pump the raw sludge out of the ground over in Odek,” Evgen said. “And then shape it in the factories.”
“And we have to keep telling it what it is. Or it’ll revert to sludge.”
“But it’s not just that. That… cat… came from somewhere.”
“They talked it into existence.”
“Just like Colony Five talked itself into destruction….”
Vanja felt slightly sick at the thought of it.
“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” Evgen continued. “If we could harness it. Or if we could somehow live in harmony with it.” He pointed at the papers. “It all starts with us forcing matter into a shape it can’t maintain. If we didn’t, if we could learn to live another way… But we can’t, as long as all this knowledge is kept secret.”
Evgen put the inner lid back on, then the outer one. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but fifteen years ago we lost almost a hundred people.”
“The fire in the leisure center?”
“There was no fire. It was Berols’ Anna. The poet with the Plant House series. She left with a group of followers to start a new colony.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. They sent out a rescue team after a while. Officially, the rescue team found everyone dead, and then the story changed again—no one had ever left. Not even the members of the committee found out what had happened. Only the rescue team and the Speaker at the time knew, but he’s dead now. Anyway, I think it’s the other way around. I think Anna’s people managed to create something new. Real freedom.”
“What makes you think that?”
“They never brought any bodies back. They said they’d dug a mass grave out there, but I don’t believe it for a second. Nobody would leave a hundred bodies out there when they could be recycled. We could never afford it.” Evgen let out a long breath. “And I think, now that the committee is coming after the library… I think something is happening up here. Something big. I think the committee’s afraid that whatever happened with Berols’ Anna’s people will happen here, too.”
“They need the good paper for something.”
“Yes, exactly. It’s for documents and books, after all, for things that mark. That define. And they need lots of it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“Hardly. I’m not on the committee anymore. But you could. You’ll be able to go through the archives. You’ll be able to find out what they want with all the paper.”
“And if I can find that out…”
“…then we can figure out what they’re planning.”
Evgen looked Vanja in the eye. “And you can help me find information about what happened with Anna’s colony. Because if they succeeded, we have to learn how to do it. So we can do more than just survive. I mean, the way things are now—we’re alive, but what kind of life is it?”
“We speak of new worlds, we speak of new lives, we speak to give ourselves, to become,” Vanja mumbled.
“What’s that?” Evgen said.
“It’s a poem,” Vanja said. “By Berols’ Anna.”
“I’m not familiar with that.”
“It was in a book I found at Ulla’s apartment.”
“Huh,” Evgen said. “I’d like to read that.”
“You would have to speak to Ulla.”
“Who is this Ulla?”
“A retired doctor,” Vanja said. “She says she knew Anna back in the day.”
“That’s very interesting,” Evgen said. “You should talk to her more.”
“I am,” Vanja said.
“What has she said?”
Vanja hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Evgen studied her. “Get back to me when you’re sure, then.”
The house was quiet and empty when Vanja returned. Ivar and Nina would come home alone; the children were always fetched from the rec center on Sevenday evening so they could start the week in their own beds at the children’s houses. Vanja crawled into Nina’s bed and lay awake until she heard footsteps on the stairs. Nina came into the room, moving as quietly as she could. Vanja heard clothes fall to the floor. Then Nina crawled in under the duvet. She slid an arm around Vanja’s waist. Her touch spread warmth through Vanja’s limbs, relaxing her tense muscles.
When Vanja decided to find the place outside Essre that Lars had told her about, she’d walked eastward for what felt like hours. At first the plant-house ring lit the ground before her, but the light soon began to fade. Instead, a cold gleam appeared up ahead. The ground slowly rose into a ridge that glittered with night dew in the backlight. From the top, the ground sloped sharply down into a deep valley. And there it was: the village.
Surrounded by a low wall, the windowless houses were irregularly shaped, rounded and flowing, their domed roofs crowned with little symbols. Among the buildings spotlights mounted on tripods illuminated patches of walls and ground. Vanja could make out figures moving about. They looked small at first, like children, until she realized that it was because the houses were enormous. The thresholds reached the people walking around outside to their knees. Some of the houses seemed to have soft walls that draped into folds, but seeing a figure in overalls leaning against one of them, Vanja realized they were hard, too.