ENIFLA (4/4)

The sun over Heidelberg was setting. Thomas and Akemi were sitting under the lilac bushes. They had dragged a couple of comfy office chairs and a small table out into the garden, stopped by the nearest gas station, filled their backpacks with food and drinks — someone had already looted the place before them anyway — and now they were walking back to the lab.

“Just like Bonnie and Clyde, huh?” Akemi tried to joke.

Thomas gave a faint smile.

They hadn’t said a word all day about what they’d seen on that computer, understanding each other without words, as they always did. Of course Akemi wanted to talk about it. Thomas did too. But not now. A little later. But not too late, still.

They passed through the empty student campus, past the shelter that was still leaking gas, bowed their heads, avoided looking, and quickly returned to the lab.

“Project ‘Airhole,’ huh?” Thomas gave a mirthless chuckle.

They sat at the table in the garden, under the lilacs. Akemi was nervously fiddling with a plastic sandwich wrapper in her hand.

“Yes,” she finally looked at Thomas, lifting her gaze, “don’t you think that we…”

“That we what?” he nearly jumped out of his seat in a sudden burst of anger.

“Please, keep your voice down!” Akemi raised a calming hand, asking him to sit back down. “That we… well… also…”

“Listen to me too, please.” Thomas exhaled, took a sip from his glass, and continued calmly. “I’m guilty too, I worked on the project as well. But we didn’t know what it would lead to, did we?”

“But… the vaccine, the salvation, the ‘airhole’ — why else call it that…”

“Look, if it helps you feel better — Raifenberg didn’t know either. Not until nearly the end. He found out maybe a couple of hours before we did. Found out that the government had lost hope. And when they canceled the project and realized it was all over, they slapped together those ‘oxygen shelters’ — just to herd in as many people as possible, and when the saturation hit zero — release the gas — and that’s it.”

“That’s... that´s genocide,” Akemi recalled what she’d read earlier in the day, and her stomach turned again.

“They thought it was ‘humane,’” Thomas spread his arms mockingly.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“And I…” Akemi poured herself another drink — her voice trembled, and tears welled up again in her eyes. “I think that I… I’m guilty too,” she whispered the last words.

“Of course you’re guilty,” Thomas suddenly said, almost cheerfully. “And I’m guilty too!” He jabbed a finger at his chest.

Akemi looked at him in confusion.

“And you know who else is guilty? Raifenberg, the Chancellor, the whole government, and beyond them —the labs in Birmingham, Fukuoka, Saratov and everywhere else that failed to stop this. And us, and all our lab techs — why not?”

“You…”

“Wait. Ever heard of ‘collective guilt’?”

“No.”

“It’s a logical trick. A trap invented by clever types who want to find a scapegoat — no, scapegoats — for everything that went wrong. But do you know the best part about it?”

Thomas leaned across the table, closer to Akemi, and whispered:

“If everyone’s guilty — then no one is. That’s why it never worked — and never will.” He sat back again. “Feel better now?”

“Maybe,” Akemi nodded and gave a hesitant smile.

The sun over Heidelberg disappeared, flashing a final green ray in farewell.

“Did you see that?” Akemi exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Thomas replied.

He pulled out another bottle from his backpack and refilled his glass.

“Want some?”

“Just a little,” she nodded.

“To us!” they raised their glasses.

They sat silently for another few minutes. It wasn’t an awkward silence — on the contrary, they knew and trusted each other so well, there was no need to be embarrassed by it. In the lab, they could work side by side for hours without saying a word — and they enjoyed it.

“Tell me… why didn’t you want me to take the second half back then?”

“When?”

“When Raifenberg sent the data?”

“Oh, that…” Thomas took a sip and smiled. “I remembered how you flunked the midterm on that topic back in uni, so I decided to play it safe!”

“Oh, come on!” She propped up her head with her elbow on the table. “And what about you?”

“What about me? I just…” He suddenly fell silent and shivered, as if from a cold gust of wind.

“What’s wrong?” Akemi poked him in the side.

“You got a drag?” he suddenly straightened and looked at her with a completely clear gaze — as if he hadn’t been drinking at all for the past couple of hours.

“Why?” Akemi didn’t get it. “Look at all the lilacs around.”

Over the course of the day they’d spent in the garden, the saplings had grown half a meter since the previous evening and had already begun to bloom.

Thomas moved closer and gently took Akemi’s hand.

“I don’t mean oxygen.”

Akemi squeezed his hand and brushed his cheek with her other hand, gazing softly into his eyes.

Thomas was breathing heavily.

“How long are you suffocating like this?” Akemi asked gently.

“Since our first year at the uni.”

Their lips met, and they held each other close, warming one another in the night garden beneath the lilac bushes.

From Akemi’s lab coat pocket, a sensor slipped out. Its screen flashed briefly, displayed “1%”, and went dark forever.

***

Reinhardt staggered backward, nearly tripping over the threshold, and bolted out of Alfred and Maria’s house without looking back.

“Why…” His arms hung limply at his sides. “Why like this? I just… I only wanted to have one last cup of tea with my friends… Why today… why like this… what for?!”

He ripped off his mask and flung it aside, sprinted into his garden, and collapsed against the lilac bush. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“For what?” he gasped, breathing in the lilac’s scent as if it might save him.

Reinhardt glanced at the little table. The tea and lemon cake were still waiting for the guests. With a furious snarl, he kicked the table over. Porcelain shattered, tea spilled across the ground, mixing with crumbs and fragments of cake.

Exhausted, he sank beneath the lilac, let his head hang, and closed his eyes.

I'll come to you from yellow dusks afar,
Where souls dissolve beneath the skyline's veil —
Return from there, with sorrow as my scar,
No words, no fears, no hopes, no dreams to tell.

He remembered the final lines written by his wife.

“Erika…” The tears returned, unstoppable now.

He sat like that for hours, unmoving, head bowed, until the sun finally dipped below the horizon. His phone beeped — 0%. Without looking, he tossed it aside, lay down on the cold earth beneath the lilacs, and drew a long, deep breath.

“Erika… you see, this is it. I’m done. For you — and because of you.”

"And when you see the fire on the line,
That will be me — departed from the day.
With warmth and hope, a tender, frail design —
Like lilac sprout, I'll lean to you and stay."

Reinhardt smiled softly and closed his eyes peacefully.