FIFDAY
According to the requisition copy Vanja received for filing purposes, the turn to donate good paper had come to the clinic’s psychiatric ward. They were to copy all their medical journals onto mycopaper and send the good paper originals to the commune office. Children’s House One and Two had been given the same task, along with Retirement Home Three and Four. The purpose of the requisition was given as “establishment material,” whatever that was. Vanja sorted the requisition copies into the Resource Management section of the Economy drawer in the Administration row of cabinets.
The gently implacable secretary gave her no opportunity to search the archive today, either. Vanja barely had time to sort everything into the right drawer and section before the secretary stood in the doorway again.
“This is very stressful,” Vanja ventured. “I need more time.”
The secretary chortled. “It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. You’re doing just fine.”
This time, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
There were three other visitors at the library. Vanja loitered by the biographies, but the others were taking their time. They were involved in a lively conversation about the nuances of Berols’ Anna’s plant-house poetry and kept dragging Evgen into it. His clipped replies only seemed to fuel the discussion. Evgen made eye contact with Vanja but didn’t seem able to contrive an escape.
Finally, Vanja walked over to the desk. “I was wondering if you could help me find something in the letter collection.”
“Certainly!” Evgen got up and elbowed past a visitor who was just about to ask another question.
“Tonight,” Vanja whispered when they had made it in among the boxes.
Evgen pulled out a box, opened it, and showed Vanja the contents. “Where?”
Vanja rummaged through the letters. “Plant House Eight. Northwest. At one o’clock.” She closed the box.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have that particular letter,” Evgen said loudly. “They might have something at the commune office.”
“Thanks anyway.” Vanja put her hat back on and left Evgen to deal with the poetry connoisseurs.
Slow shadows moved across the plant-house wall. The night growers were among the very few workers who were up at night, but it was bright enough in the plant houses that they couldn’t see outside.
They arrived at the same time. Evgen handed Vanja a flashlight. She grabbed him by the coat sleeve and guided him out on the tundra. The plant-house glow gave them a little light to navigate by. Vanja traced a wide arc around the hollow where the pipes grew and where there might be people, but near enough that she wouldn’t miss the spot where that one lone opening was located.
They walked for a long time. Evgen stumbled several times on the uneven ground before adopting a knee-high gait, carefully walking heel to toe. Lights winked in the direction of the hollow to the southwest. Ahead, the darkness was almost absolute. Now and then, Vanja briefly turned her flashlight on, scanning the ground for the opening. Each time, she looked over her shoulder, half expecting the lights from the people in the hollow to home in on them. Nothing happened. When the glow from the plant houses had nearly faded, and they had walked so far across the hard ground that Vanja began to doubt that she’d ever find the right spot, the beam of her flashlight revealed an angular shape. Evgen gasped. He walked a slow circle around the pipe, shining his light down the shaft.
“Are you sure this wasn’t here before?” Vanja asked.
“Am I sure?” Evgen crouched and tapped the metal. “I’ve never been out this far in this direction.” He looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “Are you with me?”
“Are you?”
“I’m with you. But I’m nearly shitting myself.” He let out a thin laugh.
“Me, too.” Vanja’s own laugh came out as a shrill giggle.
Evgen climbed in first. Vanja stuck the flashlight between her teeth and followed him. The rungs looked dull in the light from their torches, and they were rugged to the touch; it was easy to find purchase. The sound of their feet against the ladder was almost deafening inside the shaft. Vanja had counted one hundred and fifty rungs when Evgen finally said, “Found the bottom.”
Vanja carefully put one foot on the ground and turned around, catching the beam from Evgen’s flashlight straight in the eyes. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” Evgen pointed it away from her. “Which direction do you think Ivar came from?”
They were standing in a vaulted tunnel with smooth walls, just big enough that they could stand upright side by side. Both directions were pitch-black.
Vanja wiped her chin with her sleeve. She had drooled around the flashlight. “Amatka is that way. He must have come from there, right?” She pointed to where the colony should be and started walking.
The tunnel smelled of cold earth and stale air. The walls absorbed the beams of their flashlights and the sound of their footsteps. After what felt like a long time, something in the distance reflected the light: a plain door with a handle. Vanja grasped the handle and cautiously pushed it down. The door opened inward with a low creak. On the other side the darkness was virtually solid. Behind her, Evgen’s breathing was rapid and shallow. Vanja realized she’d been holding her breath. “Can you see anything?” Evgen whispered.
Vanja shone her flashlight into the murk. A broad staircase led downward, rough-hewn steps covered in a layer of dust. Vanja descended, keeping her beam of light fixed on the steps.
Behind her, Evgen shone his flashlight upward. “I can’t see the ceiling.”
He was right, the ceiling was out of sight. It either absorbed the light completely or was beyond the reach of their feeble beams. The echo of their footfalls was faint and scattered. The air gradually became warmer.
Vanja halted. She should have noticed earlier. “There are no footprints.”
Evgen stopped next to her. “There are no footprints on the stairs,” she repeated. “Ivar said he climbed a staircase. But there’s no trace of him here.”
“Maybe he came from the other direction. Maybe we should have walked the other way when we came down the ladder.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. It leads away from Amatka.”
“If you got the direction right, sure. And if the tunnel is completely straight.”
Vanja clenched her teeth. “Just a little farther. We can always turn back.”
The staircase ended in another door. When Vanja pushed the handle down, it opened outward with a groan. Judging from the echo, they were now standing in a very large space. Something was dripping in the darkness.
Vanja shone her flashlight on the floor. “How far did we walk, d’you think?”
“We could very well be underneath Amatka now,” Evgen replied. “We would be under the mushroom farms, in that case. It smells… it smells like metal in here.”
He made a small sound of surprise. The room grew darker. “Turn off your flashlight, Vanja.”
“Why?”
“I want to try something. Turn off your flashlight.”
Darkness rushed in. Vanja fumbled for Evgen, got hold of a corner of his coat, and hung on to it. A tug at her anorak told her he’d done the same. Then she realized that the darkness wasn’t complete. A greenish glow emanated from the walls, brightening as they watched. Silhouettes emerged.
Beside her, Evgen let out a laugh. “Gleam lichen. I thought I saw something.”