TERMINAL Page 2

  I hastily undid the shirt button at the wrist and looked at my elbow to find the white scar that I got when I fell out of the inflatable raft on the Isar river. But it was not there either.

  "Projection," I repeated, touching the smooth skin on my elbow. "I... we are... just souls?"

  Evi nodded.

  "That is the very definition."

  I slumped against the back of the couch, feeling helpless.

  "Why... Why are we here? I mean... you, me, and others... Why we are here, without any destination?"

  "There are only two types of people here," she replied. "Those who haven't done anything deserving in their lives, and those who have done something terrible, but... just because they had no choice. You know, it's like trials by jury. "

  "So... I guess I'm the first type?"

  "Try to remember what good did you do in your life. It is commendable that there were no bad either, but still..."

  I closed my eyes, growing irritated.

  All this didn't make any sense. I was sure my mind just decided to play some trick on me.

  But I will wake up very soon, I assured myself. Perhaps in a hospital room and... Exactly! This may be just a consequence of anesthesia. Most likely, I got some kind of injury in that accident and, probably, I'm having some surgery right now.

  "Sven?"

  "What?" I responded to Evi's voice without opening my eyes.

  "Do you want to... have a rest?"

  I grinned.

  "No. I'm going to wait for this damn dream to end. It will end, right? I will wake up, and I won't have to think about it anymore."

  They didn't answer. But I was sure they exchanged mocking glances or something. But since I was sure this was a dream, I didn't care what people think of me, existing only in my imagination.

  I flinched at the sudden voice that tore the silence in the break room.

  "TWO AVAILABLE TRANSFERS PLEASE REPORT TO THE SOUTH GATE."

  "Sven..." I opened my eyes as Evi called my name again. "We need to come back... I will come after you later, okay? You just... have a rest for now."

  "Go ahead," I shrugged, and Moritz snickered.

  "Hold on," he said, and they left the room, heading to Terminal.

  "Ugh," I groaned, throwing myself on the couch.

  It's all will be over soon. I'm sure.

  Most of the people who came by break room acted like I wasn't there, someone tried to find out the cause of my apathy (as if the news about my death wasn't enough of a reason to be a little sorrowful) and one of them even offered to help me. But I bluntly sent to hell everyone who spoke to me, not daring to open my eyes and meet the reality that was crushing my stubbornness being much firmer and more substantial than my belief that this was just a nightmare.

  "... I like this girl."

  "How old is she? She seems very young."

  "She died when she was twenty-two."

  "Hey, don't you dare! You are thirty-eight."

  "Listen, we are damned dead! "

  I frowned.

  It's madness, I thought for the thousandth time.

  "... I'd give anything for a bacon blue cheese burger. God, and beer, I think I forgot the taste of beer!"

  That can't be true.

  "...by the way, I need to bring all the files to the archive. Could you help me? It'll go twice as quick."

  "Quick? Are you in a rush? We're already dead."

  No, this is all not real.

  I am not real. They are not real, either.

  I opened my eyes to look at my hands.

  It was strange — my hands seemed the same as before, but for some reason, unfamiliar. Too smooth, well-groomed, too... solid? My nails were so neatly clipped as if I'd been in the nail salon, the hair on the hands looked a little darker, and the skin seemed to lighten.

  Wait.

  If there was not a single scar left on my skin, did that mean ...

  I sat up abruptly and not paying attention to the startled gasps of several women, unzipped my pants to look inside.

  The room suddenly filled with the loud laughter of two men who were sitting on the couch across from me.

  "Right, you're not circumcised," one of them said.

  "What the heck?" I muttered, making sure they were right.

  "You don't need your cock here anyway."

  I don't really need my cock anywhere, I thought.

  The women, who were settled in the corner couch, shot at me well-justified disgusted glances and left the room, emphatically slamming the door.

  "You must be new here," another guy said, openly grinning at my confusion.

  "Yes, I just got here today," I replied.

  "Today," his friend repeated, and they both laughed aloud.

  "What time is it?" I asked, annoyed with their sudden unwelcome hilarity.

  "You tell us. When did you die?"

  I involuntarily glanced at my right wrist, but of course, I didn't see my Apple Watch on it.

  "It's July twenty-two of 2019. It was about... About six in the evening."

  One of the men whistled.

  "Wow, it's been a month since I died," he said.

  I blinked, shocked.

  "A month?" I could only say. "You've been here for a month?"

  He nodded.

  "Actually, there is nothing to be surprised. There is a woman — Evi Eskau — she's been here for six years."

  "Six..." I whispered in panic. "This means... I might get stuck here for... like for years?"

  "It's possible. But most transfers don't hang out here for more than a couple of months. Evi Eskau is a legend here, though she's not really happy about it. The word is, she transferred Karl Albrecht to Paradise."

  I looked up at him.

  "So... What shall I do?"

  "Just wait until your name appears on the FIDS. And work."

  "And if I don't want to work?"

  "I assure you, you'll ask to give you something to do very soon."

  "Why?"

  "Look, you don't have booze here. No sex here, no movies, no music. There is nothing here; you will howl of boredom. And besides, people here believe that the better you do your job, the greater your chance of freedom."

  "You mean... Paradise?"

  "Exactly."

  I rubbed my face with my hands.

  "This is crazy..." I muttered. "Like some horror movie."

  " It's worse. You have all chances to spent years here just to see on that display board your name along with the destination 'hell.' This is a reality, man. And my advice to you would be to follow the rules and do not make scenes. And then you will have at least a hope."

  The rules?

  3. CONDITIONS OF CARRIAGE

  "For a twenty-four-hour period at the Lower Level in the Federal Republic of Germany, averaging about two thousand people die. You have become one hundred and sixty-eighth transfer in the Terminal, which means you'll get about eleven people a day. However, since there is no concept of time in this place, and we certainly have to deal with the kind of... time rift, this figure, I believe, might be increased or decreased."

  The pace of Evi's steps was equivalent to the speed of her learned by rote speech, and given my, to put it mildly, puzzled state, it was extremely difficult to perceive that 'Terminal excursion,' accompanied by such stories.

  "Wait, wait, wait..." I chattered before she opened her mouth again. "Let me ask a few questions."

  Evi stopped and looked at me sternly; somehow, her rigid face made me want to huddle up.

  "Well, go ahead," she pushed.

  I weighed all the questions that arose and asked the first one, not in importance, but order. "You said, 'at the Lower level'... What is it?"

  Evi's expression seemed utterly bored.

  "Let's just say, the world of the living," she replied. "The world in which we all were once alive."

  I shook my head, trying to assemble my muddled thoughts.

  "But... Why exactly the 'lower'? Does this mean that t
he Terminal is... somewhere above? In the sky?" As soon as I asked that, I suddenly felt embarrassed at my stupidity.

  Evi's brows pulled together: she definitely did not like this metaphor.

  "Actually, it's just a guess. Once, maybe hundreds of years ago, that's how transfers used to call life, and since then, this term has been used here. My mentor did that, his mentor too, and so on... But one thing's for certain: this place exists beyond the space of the planet Earth."

  "Beyond the space?" I repeated thoughtfully. "Does this have anything to do with the time rift you mentioned?"

  Evi nodded.

  "We don't know where we are, and we don't know when we are," she said.

  I thought about it for a moment.

  "But... One of those… transfers said that he'd been here for a month. And they said that you… had been here for six years."

  Evi shook her head, gazing morosely at me.

  "It is not that simple. Moritz came here at the same time as another guy, who had his final destination. And they died almost two weeks apart.

  "Oh, that's the time rift..." I mumbled.

  "So maybe I've been here for six years, but maybe for a year or several decades. I mean, I transferred a girl while ago, who was shot from a rifle during the Franco-Prussian War."

  I looked at Evi, trying to understand if she was joking or not, but her expression was still sulky.

  "Incredible..." I muttered.

  Evi's gaze seemed bored; I guess she used to such reactions from newcomers. I stared at her desperately, still trying to digest this absurd satire, but she didn't pay attention to the panic in my eyes.

  "But...Those who were late with the arrival... Did they spend that time at the Lower Level?"

  I wondered if my desperate questions even made any sense.

  Evi shrugged casually.

  "Since we've never got people from the future — I mean long-term future — I do think it's possible."

  I blinked.

  "Like... like... gh-ghosts?"

  "Maybe."

  Maybe? How did she manage to talk about that kind of thing with such face impassive as a stone?"

  Evi looked away, but the corners of her lips faltered slightly. Could this be regarded as a smile?

  I relaxed a little.

  "Very funny," I said grumpily.

  Evi chuckled.

  "I'm not a prophet, Sven, and I don't know everything. The only thing is clear: the time here is completely different. And you will never know what time is it now in the Lower Level, because... Maybe it's two in the afternoon, or maybe midnight. Or maybe both at the same time, plus ten million more options, including those we don't know about."

  I didn't say anything. I was too shocked to form a sensible response.

  Evi took this as an invitation to continue her excursion. She headed for the door to the concourse, and I followed her unwillingly.

  "So, this is the place we work in — you've been here already — the terminal. I know it's kind of odd to call the concourse 'terminal' since this whole place is the Terminal, but everybody used to it."

  She opened the door, and I frowned to a pale, white light. Once inside the concourse, I felt uncomfortable with dozens of eyes gazing at me as if studying my every movement. I stared around trying to find any distinctions between this place and the real typical airport terminal, but this time it only took me a second to grasp the first one: this place was absolutely commerce-free — you wouldn't smell the coffee and the fast-food here, you couldn't buy an unreasonably expensive suitcase here or book an overpriced flight. There weren't any banking services or rental car offices, and since all the people here wore identical black and white uniforms, it seemed like there was only one single airline carrier served there.

  Evi led me to the center of the Terminal, right beside the empty information desk.

  "The South Gate is behind us," Evi continued. "North Gate, right in front of us. Accordingly, here we have the West Gate on the left, and the East Gate on the right. Your area is the South Gate; from now on, you're responsible for departing new arrivals to their destination as a gate's attendant—"

  For a twenty-four-hour period at the Lower Level in the Federal Republic of Germany, averaging about two thousand people die, Evi's words swirled around my thoughts.

  "Wait," I interrupted Evi. "How do you know about two thousand people and stuff?"

  "I asked the dead statistician before departing him to hell."

  I felt my face crumple. Evi's indifferent tone bothered me much more than even her words.

  I took a deep breath but didn't feel the former, usual relief, and I cursed silently.

  "I feel... tired," I complained. "My body barely obey me."

  "You need some time to get used to this projection."

  I blinked, and she just grinned coldly.

  "Sven, it took you about ten years to start fully owning your body. And now you also need some time."

  "Ten years? Do you mean... from the day I was born?"

  "Of course. Your soul has found a brand new shell in a completely different reality, where space, time, the laws of physics, and, in general, cosmology have completely different concepts. Although it looks like the projection in which you died, now you are completely different, and there is not a single atom left from your previous body."

  Madness.

  "Evi!"

  I looked over to see a charming girl approaching us; she had a bright hazel-eyed look and long curly hair the color of dark chocolate. She wore a white shirt and black pants like everyone else here, but for some reason, even this formal clothing looked gorgeous on her.

  "So, we have a newcomer?" She smiled dazzlingly at me, and I embarrassedly nodded my head in greeting.

  "Yes," Evi answered promptly. "My new protégé Sven Reinsch."

  The girl's smile widened over her brilliant teeth.

  "Sven, this is Judith Damaske," Evi introduced her. "A transfer of the West Gate."

  "It's great that such a guy joined us!" Judith looked into my eyes, gracefully tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  "He died," Evi reminded her. "It would be nice if you offer your condolences rather than rejoicing."

  Judith pouted in response to Evi's grumpy tone.

  "I am sorry, but..."

  "He's gay."

  I looked sharply at Evi.

  Judith's gaze suddenly darkened.

  "Ugh, another one..." she jabbered and retreated, flipping her splendid hair back.

  I turned to face Evi.

  "How do you know? That I'm gay."

  "I've read your dossier," she answered simply.

  "My dossier? And what else do you know?" I asked apprehensively.

  "You were born on April 15, 1992, in Frankfurt, studied Economics at Goethe University, moved with your family to Munich in 2016, worked at Inkommerz Bank for three years, single, had a cat—"

  "Fitzgerald!" I exclaimed, slapping my forehead. "He's all alone in my apartment, he..."

  Evi silenced me with her stern look.

  "You have a brother who lives in Munich, too," she said.

  I felt a surge of relief.

  "Right, Lothar..." I said. "I hope everything will be all right with him..."

  "With Lothar?"

  "With Fitzgerald."

  Suddenly a meek busy bustle in the Terminal was broken by a loud male voice.

  "Deny the book of Genesis! I will show you the real Eden! I will tell you what the Garden of Yahweh is!"

  We both turned in amazement towards the South Gate, where this passionate speech came from.

  "What's this?" I asked.

  "New transfer," Evi said, her eyebrows pulling together. "Just ignore it. He's a little... out of his mind."

  For some reason, I wasn't at all surprised.

  "...oh, there are neither fruits nor hundreds of virgins!" The voice solemnly spoke. "There will be rivers of American pale ale and a free premium subscription at Pornhub!"

  Indeed
, this guy went off the rails. Frankly, such a paradise would satisfy me, though.

  "...yes, even for those who wore clothes made of both linen and wool."

  I felt my eyebrows rise.

  The Shatnez law?

  "Hey, easy!" Another male voice hissed, and sharp women gasps made me flinch instinctively.

  "What the hell?" One of the women whispered hastily averting her face from the South Gate direction, which now was the main center of everybody's attention.

  "What kind of people are you, guys?" The voice declaimed with a cheerful bravado. "You're looking straight into my eyes... While acting like a hypocrite. You know, you're just a piece of..."

  I turned around with my body and blinked as my gaze met the owner of that subtle mind and exceptional poetic talent, which touched the ears of all the transfers present in the Terminal, including, unfortunately, me.

  A young man was standing right in front of me: he was a little shorter than I, about my age, coal-black haired, and his neat, thin body could be seen without an X-ray vision and any additional manipulations — the guy was absolutely naked.

  He caught my eye and hushed, peering into my face and thereby allowing me to examine his own. His eyes were deep dark brown, almost black, and his skin was tawny, smooth; he raised his thick eyebrow as his full lips turned up in a dazzling smile.

  I became uncomfortable and defenseless as he kept staring at me; his gaze was penetrating, rough.

  "I died, and I believed that was in vain," he finally broke the silence, looking at me with a bemused smile. "But when I saw these azure eyes... One clear thought has gripped my brain: I want to lie between his thighs."

  I felt my eyebrows slowly pulling together.

  What the fuck?

  I tore my eyes from him and looked around at the transfers surrounding us — their embarrassed, bewildered expressions made me even more stiffen.

  Moritz' face was tight, anxious and somehow ashamed, I presumed he was in charge of preventing this public nudity and obviously failed, and the woman, who was holding a crumpled pile of clothes in her hands, certainly tried to persuade the naturist to cover himself or at least to cover some need-to-cover areas.

  "Hassler, quit it!" One of the transfers barked. "You—"

  The naked guy, whose name, I supposed, was Hassler, flicked his fingers to silence him.

  "Who. Is. This." Hassler murmured each word in staccato, and I felt dozens of eyes aimed at me.