The Journey (33 page)

Two men are there with alarm whistles and clubs, and they release their dog. Already he’s running, charging over stones and graves, then back again and panting with his flapping tongue. All of that would have been nothing for Bunny. But here it’s serious business that transpires, an anonymous, almost nonhuman occurence that continues uninterrupted, even when there are brief pauses when one might think that everything has come to a standstill and nothing is happening. But the masters praise the dog, he wags his tail and sways back and forth on his front paws and lets himself be petted. It always happens the same way, the close observer not missing the smallest detail, tiny gestures, a hand that rises and points, a head that gives a slight nod. It all takes place as usual. Then it’s over. It is, certainly it is. The wind blows, no, things cause the wind to blow, finding it easy to set it in motion. Hair becomes disheveled, yet it doesn’t bother the grass when a breath tests its flexibility.

Zerlina wanders. She feels no hunger, she feels nothing at all, not even the buzzing of the disoriented flies. She pushes her feet forward in alternating fashion, striding in total freedom, starting out on a new path, or a path that has already been trod by others. Here in the bosom of the landscape it does not matter that everything has happened already and is now repeated over and over. That is only a music woven out of the same sounds. It’s there, it must certainly be there, for the ears are full of the pleasure of its continuance. Thus there is only discovery and pursuit, nothing new at all. Only the moment is new, which knows nothing of other moments. But there is always what has been, for it has not disappeared, but instead remains within the moment; it is there and reveals itself. Zerlina must grab hold of it again, she cannot deny it, since she also feels that everything was already fated and predetermined. Her steps will become other steps, they are meant to be taken and will be taken, according to the same law; and yet—Zerlina’s journey is also a new one. Never before has she pressed so far into the unknown with such ardency, never has she trusted the path so, despite not knowing it. But so the others walked before her, at first quickly, then slowly, then creeping, shuffling, dancing, running, hopping, and jumping. Then a foot hit a root, a gross oversight that leads to stumbling, the hard fall unavoidable.

But Zerlina is tough and doesn’t let such an accident scare her. Already she pulls herself together again and hurries along all the more
blithely. She has left all of her fear behind her, because she is certain that no one observes her behavior. Only she herself is concerned with Zerlina. Yet she can’t guarantee that she won’t fall now and then. This time, she in fact falls deeper. Zerlina sits at a long, low work table. She is imprisoned in the workshop. Vera is also here, and all the other women and girls. Are they all imprisoned? Zerlina doesn’t dare look around as she feels and smells the work that surrounds her, the thin brown cardboard, the hands folding it properly as it turns into a box that will be glued, the top set on it, the building now complete, ready to be moved into. How lovely are the apartments, all you need to do is open a little door cut into the side, which one can slip through, little arched windows having been cut into the top, and the box is now pleasant and comfy.

After work is done Zerlina inconspicuously stays behind, now a rabbit who hides in the box. After all that has happened today a little rest is needed. Also, no rabbit can run around forever. The dead father is of no help. He is no longer in this town, no longer in any town. He fled much earlier than Zerlina and did not want to wait for her. True, the father deserved to go first, but the father should have said good-bye, or at the least have said where he was going. Was he even able to be properly fitted out? It just isn’t right that someone simply dies and leaves behind those who are called the survivors. Ah, how careless are the dead, they go off and don’t ask what will happen afterward. Poor Father! Did he want to die? No, he just wanted different food. He was sick of rotten cabbage and beets. He was also disappointed with the work. He asked to practice medicine, yet they only gave him the garbage detail. His many years of practice counted for nothing, for not even once was he consulted. His offer was laughed at.
ABLE WORKERS BROUGHT IN
. So it said in
The Leitenberg Daily
, which Zerlina read in passing. The first sentence stated: “The demand for able workers necessitates that in the course of the next …” Father is no longer an able worker. He had worked far too long, and that had sapped his strength. He had only collected ashes; from that his cheeks had withered and his hands were gray.

“Hear this, all you who do not wish to believe that I am the rabbit Zerlina Lustig: The father, Herr Dr. Lustig, has disappeared into the ubiquitous tar of misfortune, the inside of a rubbish barrel having swallowed him up, making it hard on the lungs, his pilot light having gone out,
the boiler no longer warm, now empty of steam. After such misfortune the others have to change trains. That is the reason why only the living are still there, for we cannot bring Father back. We cannot even show you a death notice, none was issued. Just take a look at us! We are the ones you once knew. We cannot have entirely disappeared from your consciousness just because most of us are no longer here. But not everyone is dead! Believe us! There are survivors, we are survivors. With just a little goodwill you will see for yourself. We are not shadows, nor have we donned any masks. We have just grown a bit older and perhaps look worse than we have in centuries. Ruhenthal changed us. We have been miserably undernourished and have suffered difficulties that have etched themselves into our faces. Why do you turn away? We, too, have often cursed the fact that we still exist, but since we have come through we must find the courage to befriend you! Extend your hand! Don’t stand off! You should love us because we want to join you! Do you not love us because we disappoint you? Oh, don’t you think we’re not disappointed as well? Should we cease to be simply because you wish that we no longer existed? We stand before you humble and agree that it would be easier for you if none of us appeared before you. Take then as compensation what we left behind with you, we want neither money nor goods back again if you will only have pity upon us and look on us as your brothers. Now it so happens that we are already among you again and must live side by side with you. That’s why we will not shrink away. That’s why we call upon your consciousnesses as witnesses to our existence, that which was, before you allowed without protest for us to be taken away from your midst, although you knew, indeed you must have known, that bad things were in store for us. Why are you upset when we now stand before you? Now you have no reason to renounce us, because you are not guilty, you did not haul us away, you did nothing bad to us, but instead helped us as much as the poor, weak ones among you dared to. We now want nothing more from you than the complete understanding that it is
we
, that we
exist.”

“We’ve heard so much about how you were hunted, you dumb, bothersome rabbits! Our only doubt is whether it made more sense to just let you loose rather than load you into train cars that took you to Ruhenthal. Another kind of journey would have perhaps have been altogether better.”

To this Zerlina gives in and bows her head. She shakes because she is
cold. She doesn’t hear anymore what her old friends say to her who are now in the right. Zerlina tucks her front feet and lets her ears hang down. How nice it is in the narrow box. There she can settle in with a cabbage leaf, which would otherwise be dropped useless in the rubbish, as well as a bowl of water. It doesn’t bother Zerlina that the box is almost too small to even allow her to turn around. Zerlina can move a bit forward and backward. There is enough air, the cardboard keeps out the cold, the muffled light suits her eyes. The rabbit is undisturbed, passing quiet nights. All the old friends have already left. Only once a day a guard comes and brings food. Otherwise hardly anyone notices the animal in the box; only a stranger hurrying past is pleased to suddenly hear a quiet scraping. Then he says, Ah, a rabbit! He says it in a light and friendly way, because the rabbit is a charming creature and only smells a little if his caretaker cleans him daily. Zerlina has at last given in, for the situation has managed to bring about what her will never could, and yet it’s for the best that she is pleased to quietly chew and sip and move all the sensitive muscles around her snout.

The rabbit is confident and full of hope. It does not know what will be done with it, not knowing the hour of its execution, not knowing if it will even be executed, or if the terrible idea will even occur to someone. Nobody in the world worries about such things. All it takes is a hard thump and the tiny soul vanishes. Yet since it is still alive, it’s guarded by an inexhaustible peace as long as nothing happens to it, though it remains on the watch so that nobody does it any harm. The feeling of any danger is mildly distant. Should fate reach out, then it will only be a dream without any threat. Thus Zerlina lives without any fear, cheerful, thankful for each moment. Others have gotten accustomed to the animal and sometimes let it out of its box since it’s tame and obedient. Then it romps around the courtyard, the children rejoice over its funny capers, which pleases Zerlina, who is so trusting and gentle. When it’s gone on long enough, someone calls, “Little Zerlina! Come, little Zerlina!” Then Zerlina hops happily back into the box, where fresh food is waiting. Thus many weeks pass, the fur of the once-shy rabbit becoming soft and shiny.

Yet the authorities know nothing about this metamorphosis and continue to send many letters to the address of Fräulein Zerlina Lustig. The letters all lie unopened, because there is no one in the building to take care
of them and no one who has any idea where the rabbit is. The superintendent throws the letters into the rubbish bin and laughs that the officials are such fools. Yet because the animal is so sweet, it has long since been given the name Zerlina. Finally the authorities lose all patience with the fräulein, who has not answered any of their summonses, and some emissaries are sent who are meant to check up on the disobedient fräulein. The landlord looks at the symbol on the authorities’ badges and bows deeply. His building is open to their official visit. The emissaries grin slyly and want Fräulein Lustig. Yet there is no fräulein by this name.—There must be such a fräulein.—Maybe, but certainly not in this building. Then the emissaries step inside and wander up and down from the cellar to the first floor and then back outside to the courtyard. No, there really is no Fräulein Lustig, nor will you find anything forbidden. At the end the emissaries come to a corner and take a deep breath to test the air. Doesn’t it smell like a horse stall here?—That’s not really a stall, but there is a rabbit that the children love.—That would make for a tasty meal in the middle of the war.—Oh no, the children wouldn’t have it. They love their playmate.—A soft little animal, such a smooth, brown, and innocent creature! one of the emissaries exclaims, now that any trouble has been cleared up. Still the landlord continues bowing to the end, even though the emissaries are almost out of sight and now must search for Zerlina Lustig throughout the entire country. Yet the poor rabbit’s entire body trembles, because it has entirely forgotten that it once again is there and present amid a thousand horrors.

“I’m not here. I have left. Yes, I have! It’s been half an hour. When I will be back, I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t pretend. You endanger us all by doing so. You can’t always pretend to be a rabbit.”

“Why not? I cannot stand your incriminating looks! I’ve committed suicide. You’ll find me on the dissection table because that’s where they wanted to ascertain what poison I used to kill myself. In fact, I only fell out of the train, but the clumsy oafs didn’t see it.”

“Go on, stop talking such nonsense! You’re right in front of us. Anyone can see that. Little Red Riding Hood in a wolf’s skin, no, that can’t be true! Everyone knows you by your long nose. It’s no less obvious even if you cover it so thickly with brown dust.”

“I’m not wearing any wolf’s skin. How can you insult a rabbit so! My lovely little nose is real and is not made of dust. Father always said so. He claimed that it was a family trait. It comes from our rabbit ancestors.”

“Nobody believes your story about the rabbit. Come here and answer when someone calls you! There’s no fooling around in the Technology Museum. The times are too serious for that. They want to interrogate you and examine you, Zerlina! Have you heard? A body search, not a dissection of the body. They don’t do that to people, only to rabbits and baby porpoises.”

“I really am … I am … Is that what you want, for me to cry? Why don’t you believe me, especially when I always gave you my little paw when you called to me? I detest lies. Mother taught me not to do that as a child. She told me how nasty it was. You don’t do that. Not even in the most dangerous situations. It is better to willingly accept your sure demise than to have even the width of a finger between you and God’s ways.”

“You’ve changed the subject! Now you want to teach us morals when, in fact, you are the one who is pretending.”

“I have never pretended. I am only talking about how things appear to me.…”

All senses dissolve beneath the earth. Only out of fear of the unknown do those remaining behind stand there and tip full watering cans so that streams of water flow into the earth in order that such dissolution takes place. Graves have become outdated, because they take up too much space and are too expensive. Cemeteries need to be made smaller, not larger. Land and soil will only increase in price. The town government beats every offer and buys it all up because it wants to build apartment boxes so that the rabbits’ apartment shortage can be taken care of. But they keep multiplying and begin to take over, such that soon there won’t be any more cemeteries. Boxes made out of waterproof cardboard will also be set up for the dead. A rabbit will live in each. Then no one will need a coffin when he dies, because he will just be left in his box, which will then be bound up with a little bit of string, all of it so comfortable and practical, after which the box can just be carried off to the crematorium. No need for a hearse, which indeed had not been used in Ruhenthal either.