voice.

[fremde]

[ There's no picture to go with this transmission. The boy on the other side of it has gotten increasingly skittish about letting anyone lay eyes on him. Needlessly so, maybe, considering this appears to be a whole different universe. Then again, wherever he goes, someone usually follows. ]

I know the long answer to this question is waiting for me in a library somewhere, but if anyone knows enough to summarize for me, can you tell me what the status of Germany happens to be in this timeline? Did reunification ever happen? Or did all of Germany fall to the Soviets? Is travel restricted to the Republic side, if it exists? Is it only open to those who register?

[ Probably, these are things he should have thought to ask the minute he arrived in Cape Canaveral. In his state of shock, it hadn't occurred to him. ]

Sorry for all the questions. I just have one more: Can anyone here tutor me in English? I studied it as my foreign language in school but I'm still having trouble speaking clearly when my translator isn't activated. I'd rather not sound like an idiot.

[ At the moment, he's being dubbed over to sound perfectly American, but he hates it. ]

Comments

voice

[leatherboots]

[ With a little bit of mental effort Rupert manages to disable the automatic translator in his device; his grasp of English is fine - if painfully old-fashioned - normally but he knows what will happen when he delves back in to his native tongue. When he speaks it's in a perfect, cool, crisp Saxon accent. ]

I could help you - if you're quite sure you want to go to the effort. It's a rather ugly language, English. And you certainly don't sound like an idiot, I assure you.

[fremde]

[ Ah, good. He can switch to his native Hochdeutsch. ]

Well, I only sound like an idiot when I'm fumbling through English on my own. But I think I'd rather do it myself than rely on a machine to do it for me. How do I even know these things are translating properly? Maybe I only hear what they want me to hear.

[leatherboots]

Ah, now there's a point! I certainly wouldn't put it past them to editorialise what we say and hear. And the devil's in the detail, of course... [ as an aside: ] They have that idiom in English too, you know.

[fremde]

[ Jonas does know. He repeats the phrase in his own more natural and heavily accented English: ]

"The devil's in the detail."

[ Honestly, he doesn't sound nearly as bad as he thinks he does. But he immediately swaps back to German. ]

I'm Jonas, by the way.

[leatherboots]

[ He sticks to German, if only because he's missed his native tongue more than he ever realised. ]

Rupert of Hentzau, at your service. Although I hardly think I do need to be of your service. Your English was perfectly fine! You're doing yourself an injustice, Jonas.

[ He pauses, canting his head unseen on his end of the audio feed. ]

I must say, I'm somewhat relieved to hear I am not the only one who finds Germany different to how they remember. I was in Munich only last week.

[fremde]

[ At this point, it would be strange to find a Germany that's similar to how he remembers it. ]

What was your impression of it?

[leatherboots]

[ He pauses and casts his mind back to all of last week (so long ago) and heaves a sigh: ]

Alive. Moreso than it ever was in my own drab little century. It was a rather angry little empire in my time. Now it's quite the model of a modern, multicultural democracy. It's a rather fetching look.

But I'm not German myself, you know. Our countries shared a border, a tongue, and a taste for good beer and bad decisions. But in this world Germany seems to have swallowed my homeland and left no trace of it behind. But then I hear that was rather a thing for Germany for a while.

[fremde]

Yes.

[ That is rather a lot of the reason he's so concerned with determining the status of things. ]

Germany itself no longer exists in the time I just came from. But it's where I was born.

[leatherboots]

[ There's a lingering pause on Rupert's end of the audio. Perhaps if he hadn't just found himself orphaned of his homeland he wouldn't be so sympathetic, but considering the revelations of the last few months: ]

My condolences.

What happened to it?

[fremde]

The apocalypse.

[ Jonas doesn't sound like a boy mourning his country, but rather like the capacity for mourning has been all wrung out of him. Maybe it's shock that's flattened out his emotions. Or the defeat of knowing that what happened had been inevitable. ]

[leatherboots]

[ Another pause on his end of the feed, this time because he isn't sure whether to believe him or not. After a moment Rupert laughs sharply, briefly. ]

What, of the Four Horsemen variety?

[fremde]

[ Laugh all you want, buddy. ]

Of the nuclear variety.

[leatherboots]

Ah.

[ Victorians didn't do apocalyptic speculative fiction! Victorians were invincible! But as a Jeapordian he has a vague idea of what nuclear power actually is. Something ominous and alive. ]

And what happened?

[ Which is to say: what does that even mean? ]

[fremde]

[ There is such a long and complicated story to be told here, but there's no point in boring a stranger with the details, so Jonas only offers: ]

A kind of chain reaction caused a massive explosion at a nuclear power plant. It wasn't a bomb, but it might as well have been.

[leatherboots]

[ Ah. He begins to understand a little. ]

And you survived this tragedy, then? [ 'Tragedy' - because he can't quite tell if it was an accident or not. ] How?

[fremde]

[ Indeed... Was it an accident... ]

By traveling here.

[leatherboots]

Oh! Well, what luck you have.

[ Yes! Luck! Don't you feel lucky, Jonas!!! ]

You'd best pray the Porter doesn't send you back. I know I do, regularly.

[ No, that's a lie. Rupert's lips haven't uttered a single sacred word in years except in enthusiastic blasphemy. ]

[fremde]

[ Does it count as luck when the thing was done quite intentionally? ]

The prayer would be wasted. I'll go back sooner or later.

[leatherboots]

[ Vaguely (and not very convincingly): ]

Mm, that is what most people think.

[fremde]

You doubt it?

[leatherboots]

I'm certainly not going to let them send me back anytime soon.

[ Simple. Matter of fact. The sheer arrogance of a 23 year old boy who thinks he can outsmart Porter technology. ]

[fremde]

[ Jonas does so enjoy a good and determined fuck you to Fate. ]

How will you stop them?

[leatherboots]

[ With the same airy vaguery as before but now with an added edge of smugness: ]

Oh, I have plans in motion. And you should too, if you'd prefer not to go back.

[ Who knows? Maybe Jonas liked the apocalypse. ]

[fremde]

It's not in question. I know that I go back.

[leatherboots]

How can you possibly know that for certain?