The last of this week’s five pieces by Linda Mannheim.
Potsdam: 1991 to 1992
When he first begins to commute to the University of Potsdam he takes the S-Bahn to Golm, a tiny station in a place he could not have gone to before. One day, on his way there, he looks out the window of the train and spots an engineer with his trousers open. They’re in Greibnitzsee, where the train begins. The train rolls – its brake unsecured – and the engineer looks up as he’s taking a pee, tries to fasten his trousers, and runs to catch up with the train again, stumbling.
During the first year the university is on the campus, there is still barbed wire around the perimeter. There is stationery with the Stasi logo that’s been left in a desk drawer. On a shelf, there are aluminium knives and forks stamped NVA for Nationale Volksarmee. Above the safe in the cupboard, there’s an assortment of schnapps glasses.
The furniture isn’t old, but looks as if it was designed in the 1960s, ersatz Swedish Modern. Later, when the de-commissioned Stasi offices have been turned into a museum and Erich Mielke’s office has become a display, he will see veneer desks and electric blue armchairs exactly like the furniture on the campus with roped barriers surrounding them – the seats where meetings were held, lists drawn up, orders given.
He alights at the station and walks across the footbridge and turns down the street, into nothing. The campus has never appeared on any maps.
Then the post-unification maps are printed, and the campus becomes visible: The buildings are marked in light brown against the green of surrounding gardens. Signs appear showing the new university’s logo – a stylised outline of the domed central building. His department is officially open.
He sometimes wonders, when he takes the train back to the West (because he still thinks of it as the West) who rode the train before him. The first buildings were constructed to house a secret installation of the Abwehr during the Nazi era. Then came the Soviet Military Police. And then came the College where the Stasi officers studied.
What did they read during their commute when they came here – the career Stasi given places at the college? What did they think of when they looked up at the passing scenery? And, when they got out at that station and crossed the footbridge, what did they look forward to as their day began? Who would they see, and who would they talk to, and who would they eat with? And what did they believe about this place that they came to?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Mannheim’s most recent book is Above Sugar Hill (Influx Press), stories of a one time New York City landmark that became known for its high homicide rate and heroine trade. Eimear McBride wrote that: “Mannheim’s restive tales of her desiccated stretch of New York provoke and abide like a slap.” Above Sugar Hill was longlisted for the Edge Hill Short Story Prize and was a #readwomen2014 pick of the year. Linda is also the author of a novel Risk (Penguin), set in South Africa during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Hearings. Her stories have appeared in Ambit, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and New York Stories. She lives in London.