An ugly, weary waitress shouts from the counter, "How many?"
"Three."
Lucas sits at a table stained with red wine and cigarette ash. The waitress brings him three glasses of cheap red wine. She collects his money right away.
When he has finished his three glasses, Lucas gets up and leaves. He pushes on as far as the main square. He stops in front of the book and stationery store and stands gazing into the window: school notebooks, pencils, erasers, and a few books.
Lucas goes into the bar opposite.
It is a bit livelier, but it is even dirtier than the other bar. The floor is covered with sawdust.
Lucas sits next to the open door, the only form of ventilation in the place.
A group of border guards are sitting around a long table. They have girls with them. They are singing.
A ragged little old man comes and sits at Lucas's table.
"How about playing something, eh?"
Lucas shouts, "A half bottle and two glasses!"
The little old man says, "I wasn't scrounging a drink, I just wanted you to play. Like before."
"I can't play like before."
"I know. But play anyway. I'd like that."
Lucas pours the wine. "Drink."
He takes his harmonica out of his pocket and starts to play a sad song, a song about love and separation.
The border guards and the girls take up the tune. One of the girls comes and sits next to Lucas; she strokes his hair.
"Isn't he cute?"
Lucas stops playing. He gets up.
The girl laughs. "Touchy!"
Outside it is raining. Lucas goes into a third bar, orders another three glasses. When he starts playing, the customers' eyes turn to him, then back to their drinks. People come here to drink, not talk.
Suddenly, a large, well-built man, with one leg amputated, plants himself on his crutches in the middle of the room beneath the single bare light bulb and begins to sing a forbidden song.
Lucas accompanies him on the harmonica.
The other customers drink up quickly, and one after another leave the bar.
Tears run down the man's cheeks as he sings the last two lines of the song:
The people have already atoned
For the past and the future.
The next day Lucas goes to the book and stationery shop. He picks out three pencils, a pack of lined paper, and a thick notebook. When he comes to the cash register, the bookseller, a pale, obese man, says to him, "I haven't seen you for a long time. Have you been away?"
"No. I was just too busy."
"Your consumption of paper is most impressive. I sometimes wonder what it is you do with it."
Lucas says, "I like filling up blank sheets with pencil. It passes the time."
"You must have a mountain of them by now."
"I waste a lot. I use the spoiled pages to light the fire."
The bookseller says, "Unfortunately my other customers aren't as regular as you. Business is poor. Before the war, things were good. There were lots of schools around here. High schools, boarding schools, secondary schools. The students wandered through the streets in the evening having fun. There was also a musical conservatory, concerts and plays every week. Look out there now. Nothing but children and old people. A few workers, a few winegrowers. There are no more young people in this town. The schools have been moved to the interior of the country, all except the primary school. The young people, even those who aren't studying, move away, to towns that have some life. Our town is dead, empty. The border zone, sealed off, forgotten. Everyone knows everyone else in this town. Always the same faces. No outsiders can get in."
Lucas says, "There are the border guards. They're young."
"Yes, poor fellows. Locked away in their barracks, on patrol at night. Every six months they change them to keep them from forming contacts with the townspeople. This town has ten thousand inhabitants, plus three thousand foreign soldiers and two thousand of our own border guards. Before the war there were five thousand students, and tourists during the summer. The tourists came from the interior as well as from across the border."
Lucas asks, "The border was open?"
"Of course. The farmers from over there came to sell their produce here, the students went to the other side for village fairs. The train used to run to the next big town in the other country.
Now this town is the end of the line. Everybody off! And show your papers!"
Lucas asks, "You could come and go freely? You could travel abroad?"
"Of course. You've never known what that's like. Now you can't take a step without having to show your identity card. And the special permit for the border zone."
"What if you haven't got one?"
"It's better to have one."
"I haven't got one."
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"You should have one. Even children get an identity card at school. What do you do when you leave town and then come back?"
"I never leave town."
"Never? You don't even go to the next town when you need to buy something you can't find here?"
"No. I haven't left this town since my mother brought me here six years ago."
The bookseller says, "If you want to avoid trouble, get yourself an identity card. Go to the town hall and explain your case. If anyone gives you trouble, ask for Peter N. Tell him Victor sent you. Peter comes from the same town as me. Up north. He has an important position in the Party."
Lucas says, "That's kind of you. But why should I have problems getting an identity card?"
"You never know."
Lucas goes into a large building near the castle. Flags hang from the facade. Numerous black plaques with gold lettering indicate the offices:
POLITICAL BUREAU OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY
SECRETARIAT OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PARTY
ASSOCIATION OF REVOLUTIONARY YOUTH
ASSOCIATION OF REVOLUTIONARY WOMEN
FEDERATION OF REVOLUTIONARY TRADE UNIONS
Through the door a simple gray plaque with red letters:
COUNCIL INQUIRIES SECOND FLOOR
Lucas goes up to the second floor, knocks on a frosted window above which is written: "Identity cards."
A man in gray overalls opens the sliding window and looks at Lucas without speaking.
Lucas says, "Hello. I'd like to apply for an identity card."
"Renew, you mean. Your present one's expired?"
"No, I don't have one. I've never had one. Someone told me I'm supposed to have one."
The official asks, "How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Then you are supposed to have one. Give me your school card."
Lucas says, "I haven't got a card. Of any kind."
The official says, "That's not possible. If you are still at primary school you have your school card; if you are a student you have your student card; if you are an apprentice you have your apprenticeship card."
Lucas says, "I'm sorry. I haven't got any of those. I never went to school."
"How come? School is compulsory up to the age of fourteen."
"I was excused from school because of a psychological disorder."
"So what are you doing now?"
"I live off the produce from my garden. I also play music in bars at night."
The official says, "Ah, it's you. Lucas T., is that your name?"
"Yes."
"Who do you live with?"
"I live in Grandmother's house near the border. I live alone. Grandmother died last year."
The official scratches his head. "Listen, you're a special case. I'll have to check on this. I can't decide this on my own. You'll have to come back in a few days."
Lucas says, "Peter N. might be able to straighten it out."