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LITTERAE
Multilingual literary magazine

Eugene Giurgiu:
 

Let the reader not be disappointed at the absence of a full cast of characters, for sometimes one is enough. And let him not fear, this isn’t a monologue, though upon proceeding further he might be tempted to think it is. This is a tragedy, and the hero a complex and complicated character. When we think of populations, whether of bees or humans, wheat or blades of grass, indeed the contents of the universe, we think of multitudes: grains of wheat, blades of grass, a myriad of stars and so on. Our character is of this category, and if we were to name him, we should have to use a mathematical notion and call him a multitude. In mathematics a multitude is made up of individuals whose identity doesn’t matter so long as the multitude itself is an entity. The members don’t have features. They hardly differ from one another, or more exactly, we choose to disregard their individual features while considering them as a class. When we say forest, we don’t think pine, beech or oak, which belong to different species; even if we do think of a particular species, the individuals differ in size, shape, maturity and many other characteristics. Our story is about a multitude whose members don’t interest us, either because they aren’t ascertainable or because, having been compelled by overwhelming forces, they have lost their individuality. They are homogenized and blended in a class, displaying only the characteristics common to those conforming to a multitude. The process of standardization requires time, sacrifice and detachment. This process is our theme in the following.

The Beginning was beyond our knowledge. I wasn’t aware of its inception until it was well underway. For reasons beyond my comprehension, I was told nothing. Later I discovered that no one else had been told anything either. Why would we, wretched paupers, famished simple-minded workers, be made privy to the great plans at Headquarters? We had our jobs, and who needed to know anyway? In time criticism was leveled at us for failing to come up with useful proposals or viable suggestions, and we were told that we were nothing but humble bipeds without any dignity or brains, while at Headquarters plans were being made to turn us into fine specimens of the new type—modern, agile humans, good at everything. We swallowed the criticism in silence and nudged one another, but didn’t believe a single word.

Of those who later said they’d known about the Beginning all along, some were thrown in jail. It was said they couldn’t possibly have known, and if they did, they were spies or secret agents in pay to foreign intelligence. I’m reasonably sure today that those who were locked up knew no more than the others, and by boasting of such knowledge only hoped to gain certain advantages or raise themselves in our estimation. The strange thing was that no one felt sorry for the unlucky boasters. What was stranger still was that no one knew what the Beginning intended to accomplish. The blueprint was lodged in the mind of the Creator, supposing he was a person like us, which we weren’t sure of. We knew only that to make sacrifices you need someone to make them to, and no one can build without the assistance of a Creator. Now a person’s name is written down in books at City Hall, while the Creator’s was nowhere to be found. And yet we heard daily of his plans. It’s true that sometimes they were delivered to us after great delays, of twenty years or more, and when they arrived they proved neither communicable nor feasible, yet no one dared concede that. Indeed, who knew enough about the truth to explain it sufficiently? The high officials lived secluded in their impenetrable fortresses, which we couldn’t have come near even if we’d known the exact topography and had had another lifetime to spare. So great was the distance separating us from them, that we required a second lifetime to find the way.

The Beginning began, so to speak, with the first phase, which called for making room for the undertaking at hand whose proportions weren’t yet fully known. By way of insurance, all lesser plans, either finished or in the process of being completed, were laid aside. The old works standing on the site were torn down, so the new undertaking might proceed. There were some old structures, beautiful and solid enough, housing the corrupt and greedy old administration. Some hadn’t yet been taken possession of, for with the passing of time the people had forgot what they were intended for. Those who had built them shrugged and glanced casually at the ruins. Many smiled.

One day the pigeons left. The entire flock rose suddenly to the sky and scattered in all directions looking for a new home. Wind was blowing clouds of dust. The air was so thick, you had to sift it in order to breathe. There were nothing but ruins spread on thousands of hectares. Then it was decreed that the site should be cleared of debris, but there were no means of transportation. The heavy trucks expected to carry away the debris hadn’t been requisitioned. Some said they hadn’t been built, for the plants manufacturing such equipment had been leveled in the high spirit of the demolition process, along with other useless structures. The administration ordered that the site should be made ready at all costs and by any means. As far as the eye could see, there were heaps of cement, bricks and clouds of dust. The landscape was nothing but a dismal grey and we, the workers, were covered from head to toe in a coat of sticky dust, as though we’d donned a rubber costume that had become a second skin. Only our eyes remained uncovered. Apparently our leaders hoped that by destroying our entire inheritance and knocking down all historical buildings, the memory of the past would vanish too. "The new order will be erected on the ruins of the old," they said. A new world would replace the old, which indeed we were all sick and tired of. The destruction thus acquired a new symbolic meaning. Oh yes, we did long for a bright, civilized and wise new order. We dreamed of living in spacious and hygienic housing, enjoying the comforts of life, getting along with one another, loving with our hearts instead of our lips, finding support and understanding in the authorities. We dreamed of being our own masters, making our own way, laughing and having fun as we pleased, making money, travelling and seeing the world with our bodily eyes.

That was when the ingenuity of the plan first showed itself. Until further notice, the country would become a dump. This way we’d be getting a double benefit. Unemployment would be done away with, at the same time as leisure. "We don’t promote laziness. Today we work, we don’t think."

Everyone without exception came to the site, just as everyone without exception benefitted from the labor. After a few uncertain steps, some details were changed, as it was discovered that there was no bread. The bakers had left their employment to join the construction team. They were sent home to do their traditional job, accompanied by roaring laughter. They were told that they were deserting "against their will." Then there was some trouble with getting water to the site. Another contingent of citizens were enlisted, quickly taken away from their former employment, and a special transportation team was put together. There would be water and bread. What else?

At last things were running smoothly, but some workers were still laughing, hands in their pockets, their voice alone displaying a ring of merriment, because the cement stuck to their face didn’t permit wrinkles to form at the corner of their eyes. We realized what it was because they said so: "We are laughing. Ha, ha, ha…"

The fundamental challenge was the debris. Where take it? The order stipulated clearly that before building, the site had to be cleared of "all obstructions." This was the second time the ingenuity of the plan showed itself. Imagine a terrain of some 5,000 squared kilometers. I say 5,000, but no one knew the exact size, and moreover it has no importance in the following explanation. It could have been only 2,000. This area was divided into smaller lots, 27 in all, all squared, the side measuring 5 km. The first, starting from the left, was sector A, the next was sector B, and so on to the end, the last on the far right being sector Z. As construction started in A, all waste would be transported to B. As construction then started in B, the accumulated debris would advance to C, then be dumped in D, thus making room for the expanding project. Step by step, the free of obstruction site was created, according to orders.

The accomplishment was cheered. Some stopped working for a few minutes to ponder the wisdom of the ingenious plan. Others laughed: "We’re laughing, ha, ha, ha…" Nobody made much of the merriment. The work continued with even greater enthusiasm. Our mission was to clear one sector, so work in another could begin. Thousands of picks handled by thousands of hands managed to destroy all evidence of the past in a very short while. With each step, the clearing operation took less time, because in the process we’d become more experienced. A new record for efficiency was established. Work was finished in each sector minutes before the deadline had been met in the preceding one. Same result, same denuded surface, but increased productivity. Mass enthusiasm was rising.

On the site, painted in red on a board held up by two pillars, there appeared a slogan that said:On the site, painted in red on a board held by two pillars, there appeared a slogan that said "Let’s part with the past cursing". And the curses started, and it looked like the most inspired ones took part in a contest where the most dreadful curse ever said by a human was to receive a prize. I might go ahead a bit and say that the contest was won not by a gypsy - everybody knows that gypsies have a long tradition in cursing - not by a Hungarian - it is also known that the most poetic and colorful curses are in Hungarian - but by a poet, a genuine Romanian poet, named Tudor Arghezi. But it is a long way over there. As I was saying, work was accelerating. However, there were difficulties, some human, some mechanical. Although, according to official reports written in violet ink on thick hard paper, full of orthographic and grammatical lapses, the health of the working population, therefore of the majority, was excellent, which was proof that work strengthens the body. One day a strange-looking, tall and thin guy with big horrified eyes and pale as a miller, staggered and fell under the weight of a rock, placed on his back by a merciful foreman. There was no convincing him to stand up. He looked very much done. Each admonition only left him moaning weakly and mumbling strange words. There was no use poking him in the ribs. "He’s faking," the foreman said. "You can hear him swearing." I was close by and heard the words myself: Pater noster qui es in coelum… "Take him away," said an officer dressed in an official uniform with his stripes sparkling in the merciless light of the afternoon sun. "Back to work!" The wounded man was pushed out of the way and left against a stone to meditate. Two hours later he was really dead and they threw him over the barbed fence.

At first the women were assigned less onerous tasks, such as fetching bread and water to the site, but one day, at a meeting which I didn’t attend, they voted unanimously (plus one) in favor of a motion to the effect that they felt discriminated against and wanted to be treated "on the same footing" as the men. The foreman had a brilliant idea. Do women have the same foot size as men? It’s simple. Measurement showed that out of a hundred men, and a hundred women, roughly eighty-five in each group have the same foot size. Consequently, the motion passed. The two women initiators of the motion, living as brother and sister in the same tent, were congratulated and earned the well-deserved position of leaders of the women’s party.

This provided a little entertainment in our boring lives, but soon the number of actors increased alarmingly. Some showed tremendous acting abilities. They looked generally exhausted and staggered on the site leaning here and there against a wall, extremely skillfully though; what was more, some were exceedingly good at producing in their gums an appearance of swelling, which an inexperienced eye could easily have been fooled to believe was the result of an infectious disease. But it wasn’t the case, the foreman declared, seconded by his assistant: "Let’s read doctor Felcerescu’s reports." More than a hundred percent of those who were allowed to work were in excellent health, well-fed and in as high spirits as lottery winners. "We won’t encourage laziness and sham!"

They were right. Some problems were due to the soil, others to the climate, others to the vegetation. In sector B the soil was rocky, uneven and unsuitable for dumping waste, which hadn’t been the case in sector A. The debris transported on the steep slopes, at great sacrifice, during heavy rains slid back. The rushing water took it to the bottom of the hill, invading the nearby land and causing a diminution in the surface of the available dumping area. Soon it was necessary to devise a new sector, C’, which in turn led to the creation of another—D’—and the clearing of the new D’ sector required the redesign of the ancient adjacent one—E. But the enthusiasm of the masses, led by a few well-thought slogans and some encouraging gestures on the leaders’ part, overcame this difficulty too. The women’s party contributed new recruits. Fresh faces, especially of former housewives, appeared voluntarily. As the heavy trucks were late, alternative means of transportation had to be found, for work to continue and follow all the terms specified in the plan. Someone suggested beasts of burden. Some spare wheels, boards and tools were found, which in the hands of skillful craftsmen became platforms pulled by oxen, horses and even people. Once registered and numbered methodically, these were named adequately: "animal platform O"—pulled by oxen; "animal platform H"—pulled by horses, while the one-wheeled platform was called "W," to signify that it resembled an old implement, formerly known as a wheelbarrow. Indeed, terms such as enslaved worker and wheelbarrow were said to have a degrading connotation, so W platforms were renamed I.T. platforms—"individual transport platforms." And again some were heard: "We are laughing, ha, ha, ha…"

Finally, after many puzzling adventures one bright morning we were told on the loudspeakers by the chief commander that twelve giant trucks would arrive the following day, at Z hour. One truck would do the work of two thousand middle-aged men of medium stature. Thus the second stage, of mechanization and automated transportation, the M.A.T., would commence. The commander’s voice sounded full of justified pride. The thousands of workers left with no job would be assigned to administration. I only found out later what they meant by administration.

The news was received with loud cheer, hearty applause and prolonged stomping of the feet. The impression was of a herd of oxen rushing. Although there were no oxen in the meeting room, the impression wasn’t entirely false. Most articulate speech had been replaced by the bellowing of tired bulls and the neighing of joyful mares, joined in a wonderful dance in the middle of the semi-cleared of debris site. The beasts danced on all fours, unexpectedly gracefully, with no visible distaste of the audience, although an aging cow that had been secretly milked at midnight to provide the chief commander with fresh milk in the morning, apparently exhausted by the double shift, soon staggered to its knees, causing a rude young buck to laugh. Apart from this incident, everything went fine.

On the East Side, a triumphal arch was erected in haste out of two pillars, that were no good anyway, driven deep into the ground, to support a large billboard nailed to the upper extremities. It was only afterwards that an instructor with a keen sense of observation made an astonishing remark: "Take the board down! Write in red, ‘Welcome dear truck drivers of the new times’ and put it back."

They obeyed, but not without murmuring, because it wasn’t easy climbing the pillars and pulling the nails out of the board fixed firmly by the workers’ zeal. Two hours later, the board was back on. The inscription was in bright red: "Wellcome dear truck drivers of Our times." No one objected to the orthography, out of ignorance, fear or indifference. The instructor congratulated the two hundred workers and they turned to garnishing the arch with pine branches and colored paper ribbons. Before dusk, the workers added the final touches—a branch was placed higher to cover the black spot on the pillar: "You stupid, lower that ribbon! You have no aesthetic sense of beauty!"

The instructor rushed to report that the work was finished, but instead of congratulations, the chief commander answered him in a sarcastic tone, that augured nothing good: "Where did you go to school, Sorescu?" "In Tutuieni, Dolj, sir." "And no one taught you to write ‘Welcom with one L? How do you write ‘wage’ and ‘wage tax?" "With capitals, sir!" "You see? Or you want me to send you back to school?"

The admonished man went pale, but no one noticed. He was dark-skinned. He reasoned that being sent back to grammar class for this sort of transgression (it wasn’t even his, but Pogacean’s, from Turda, who only passed for literate because his cousin went to a vocational) was a too steep downgrading. He wouldn’t have objected to having his wage cut in half, or being transferred to sector A, or having his boots confiscated and being forced to go barefoot. He answered in a humble tone, mumbling and shaking: "Please forgive me. I will correct the error of my ways. I realize I have wronged the working class, because of lack of revolutionary vigilance. I will honestly pass self-criticism on my deed." The chief looked him up and down disdainfully. "Oh, the situation changes if you pass self-criticism on your deed. And stop keeping your mouth open when you talk to me. Understood? Now go!"

The fellow rushed out, wondering how he was going to report back that the order had been carried out, if he wasn’t to open his mouth. But he didn’t dwell on the thought and ran to the triumphal arch. He took off his boots and climbed the pillar with the skill acquired in Tutuieni, when stealing apples and juicy pears from the priest’s garden.

The following morning we all gathered in sector K. Following the instructions given us the night before, we tried to look festive. We’d all got haircuts and had had our beards shortened, we’d washed our faces with the scarce soap handed us the day before, had scraped with a knife the mud from our overalls, and the women had combed their hair and blushed their cheeks with red paper dipped in water. Some looked really good, fact which made the instructor place them in the front row. The chief watched perched in his cabin.

After many steps back and forth, in formation, following commands being yelled at us by the instructor’s assistants, we managed to make an almost perfect square. It was a warm day in early autumn. The sun, high in the sky, higher even than the highest heap of debris, burned our necks, which was pleasant, given that in the night we’d been freezing. And then we waited. Some were making plans for the future. They knew that the use of mechanized transportation on the site would release a large number of people, and they hoped to return to their former jobs. Others, unemployed and in the majority, hoped for nothing, or only that things wouldn’t change at all. Of these, we knew that many in a short while would become themselves instructors and even foremen, that they would get bigger rations of bread, sugar, tobacco and coffee, new boots and uniforms and then would boss everyone around, while the rest would obey for fear of being fired. To tell the truth, halfway through the alphabet we still had no idea what IT was, except that it was something good, and which the people, that didn’t have the chance to participate, craved to be involved in. We knew that it required time to complete and then reap the benefits of. The chief had repeatedly told us that we weren’t to expect to reap the benefits right after its completion. It was possible that we wouldn’t get to see them in our lifetime. Given the enormous plan, one lifetime might not be sufficient. Indeed, vita brevis. But our children, and if not they, our children’s children, would live in paradise. And for their sake we should spare no effort. The good news was that we were allowed to be a part of the team, and do our best, even if many of us had no children, and more still had no prospect of having any, due to the civic ethics and restrictions imposed by the women’s party on procreation, because both the future and paternity looked uncertain. In those days the slogan "All for some and some for themselves" was embraced with typical enthusiasm and motivated by the somber prospect of food privation.

Finally from the loudspeakers came the message that the trucks had arrived. The chief commander descended from his cabin dressed in full regalia. The instructor quickly joined him, in his left hand with a bouquet of red carnations, very appropriate for such an occasion. There was some fuss in the last rows. Necks craned and heads turned, as no one was willing to miss the chief’s opening speech, expected since the night before. It was a great honor to hear his words as he reviewed the formation. at a slow pace, hands behind his back, cap high on his head, The women were giggling and nudging one another, hands covering their mouths. Some who were more pleasant-looking started to arrange their hair, lending one another a piece of mirror, but the chief didn’t notice them, being absorbed by his pending speech. After some minutes of tense expectation, someone yelled: "Here they come!" We all heard the stifled noise of the engines, but could see nothing but a cloud of yellow dust approaching the arch at a slow speed. Then the shape of a black limousine emerged from the cloud, swinging like a boat and crawling over the ground like a rheumatic caterpillar. Then a white van appeared. Farther behind, the first heavy truck finally pulled up. It was a yellow giant, trimmed with bleached little flags, swaying like a giant duck on the uneven terrain and creaking from all joints. The limousine entered the arch slowly, while the instructor gave the signal agreed on the night before for starting the enthusiastic round of cheer. An agile young man sprang from the limousine before it came to a full stop. Bowing slightly, he opened the back door. Two strapping fellows got out and stood on the right and left side of another figure, tall and fat, who emerged, dressed in black. Our commander remained still in a respectful position. The fat man arranged his hair and tie and put on the protection helmet which the agile young man handed him. Then a group of reporters carrying cameras and cassette-recorders fixed on telescopic poles stepped out of the van. The fat man stepped toward the commander, moving with considerable difficulty, as though he was wearing a diving suit. The commander sketched a salute, while the fat man tried to push back the helmet that kept slipping on his forehead. The instructor felt it was the moment to hand him the bouquet, but the commander nudged him with his left elbow, while his right arm would not abort the salute. The fat man tried to take off his head gear, but it was fastened with a strap under his chin. The agile young man jumped to his rescue, trying to undo the strap, but his trembling hands failed. Meanwhile the reporters took photos and the cameramen shot the scene from all angles, not to miss a single detail of the solemn moment. The fat man said something that sounded like an exclamation of displeasure, which the young man interpreted as a request to assist him, so instantly he took out of his pocket a knife and seemed ready to cut the strap under the official’s chin. Seeing the knife, the other moved back in fear. The two strapping fellows who’d been standing still seized the young man, and took away his knife. He tried to explain, but one of the fellows punched him on his chin, leaving him dumb. Meanwhile, to his credit, our commander stood stiff, thus indicating he had complete control over himself. The leader of the women’s party also proved her presence of mind, characteristic of the new woman. She approached the fat man and undid the strap with the skillfulness of a thief or pickpocket. Then, while the man’s face was sweating, she lifted the helmet with both hands, leaned forward and said: "Please allow me to keep this helmet as a sacred memory. The opportunity to be of assistance represents the highest reward for our activity in mutual benefit, for me personally as well as the entire women’s party.’

The fat man touched her chin lightly and smiled: "What’s your name, sweetie?" "Maria Cojocaru," she answered with the shyness proper to the leader of the women’s party. She was over forty and looked like a man, so she was no sweetie. "Name her for devotion and sacrifice," the official ordered, half turning to an attendant standing behind him. He then approached the commander, who looked trim like a late-model tractor, and held out his hand. Only then did the commander relax his military posture and shook the hairy hand of the honorary guest. The instructor produced the red carnations, which the commander formally handed the dignitary, who said: "I’ll say that this bouquet, standing for the secular sacrifice of our fight for freedom, is to be offered to the hard equipment operation team, who proved their spirit of sacrifice in striving to provide these wonderful and unique machines, three months go, well before the deadline." We all applauded, though we had no idea why, since we’d been expecting the trucks for over three years.

Just then No 1. entered the triumphal arch. A moment later, the arch was no longer standing. It had been designed to welcome a truck, while no.1 was a monster. The sun was in the driver’s eyes, or he wasn’t paying attention, or simply wanted to leave us speechless, anyway he took the monster right through the arch. Being much larger than expected, No.1 knocked down the pillars and the board with the "wellcome" sign corrected the night before. We saw some chuckling faces but could hear nothing over the engine’s noise, which was so deafening that you couldn’t hear a cannon fire. A few minutes later the monster came to a stop, the engine went dumb and four men in blue overalls came out of its steel belly. They lined up facing the honored guests, their backs to the machine. The silence was overwhelming; but it wasn’t long. Our commander, turning, addressed the guests and us. "Permit me to extend a wholehearted welcome on my behalf and that of the hard-working people on this site. Our caring and loving leaders have made the treasured help we received today possible. The directions issued by our leading forum gave a strong impulse to our modern technology, that today has reached the highest level, causing the envy of the entire world. The estimated tenfold output will enable us to top all goals in the work plan that our beloved leader agreed to. We thank you heartily, dear guests."

The instructor gave the signal for the three-minute spontaneous applause, but the fat man signaled for silence. Smiling humbly, he looked around as though trying to locate someone.

"Where’s Costica?"

"I handcuffed him and threw him in the truck."

"You idiot, bring him over here. Don’t you know he’s my wife’s nephew?"

"He wanted to assassinate you…"

"Assassinate me, my ass. Go get him…"

The strapping fallow ran fast to the truck. The official turned to us.

"My dear male and female citizens… Thank you for this wonderful welcome. The love with which you receive us represents the reward for our united efforts to improve the living conditions in cities and villages in our country, which under the guidance of our wise leader makes huge steps toward a better life, toward the sun of our common happiness and we won’t spare any effort in achieving the objectives set by our leader, whose goal is as the great man of state leading us rightfully, a man admired for his great features not only in our country but also abroad overseas, even by our enemies who gnash their teeth at seeing our great achievements in every field, starting with the least important, politics, economy, culture, agriculture, in heavy and light industry, in the worldly successful exploitation, and even higher of the wealth of the soil and subsoil, of the fields and mountains, of the air and the sky…"

He spoke slowly pausing long between words, glancing anxiously at the truck, from where eventually Costica appeared covered in dust, hair standing up. He approached the speaker and waited. The latter put out his left hand. Costica searching in his pocket and took out some papers, then handed them to the speaker. Then he disappeared, as though fearing he might be roughed up again. The fat man took out his glasses and started reading. "As I already mentioned, the heavy equipment No.1 was built piece by piece in our plants, following the drafts of our wonderful engineers. We proudly add that nowhere in the world is there a better machine in regard to power and working capacity than the one that our gifted engineers have produced. Just think that its engine has one thousand four hundred horse power and is made up of eleven thousand five hundred and forty-two pieces, all made, produced, finished and assembled in our country. We imported nothing, not even a screw, so no one can say we copied their technical procedures. You see, dear male and female citizens, the steel arm guided by extremely complicated automatic levers, it can lift up to five tonnes to a height of eight meters. Then it describes a semicircle and unloads the load in the nearby truck. The truck then leaves and is replaced by another. Loading and unloading takes less than six minutes, thus ten trucks an hour, that’s fifty tonnes. An ordinary day would mean four hundred tonnes of cement or concrete, the equivalent of ten thousand men’s work. Three people and an assistant will supervise the team. Can you see how many working arms will be spared and made available for qualified and highly qualified work like assembling cars, electronic measuring devices, high precision tools, medical equipment, textiles, refrigerators, etc., etc. A new age—shall we call it the golden age—is dawning in our country due to the working people, who under the guidance of our brilliant leader finally have the opportunity to show their creative talent. Today we show the entire world what we’re capable of. This is for the glory of the following generations who will be proud of us, the people that today had the glorious opportunity to start a new life, a new world, that our valiant ancestors dreamed of, when fighting for freedom and progress…"

At the instructor’s sign, our enthusiasm knew no bounds. "Hurray, hurray, hurray!" Wild applause came from every direction. The men shouted at the top of their lungs, while the women, more sensitive, cried in their hands. The cameramen went to and fro snapping shots, the reporters meantime jotting in their notebooks their raw impressions, to immortalize the crucial in our theretofore tormented lives historical moment. We knew that it was a new and glorious page in world history. We were dying, too, to find out just how the monster, that was going to replace ten thousand workers, performed. As if he’d read our minds, the honorary quest hushed us and said: "I believe I speak for everyone when I say we should see how N.1 works. Here is foreman Mitica Ciobanescu, the chief operator." We applauded, this time to encourage Mitica to speak. He advanced, cleared his throat and started: "What you have here is a combination excavator, cannon and high powered crane. The basis is the cannon, whose surface is comparatively smaller than the crane’s operating area. In order to preserve the balance of the device, the cannon has two side props that actually are steel, each having a one squared meter base. By placing them on the right and the left of the cannon, we assure the stability of the device. It’s easy to see that a five tonne weight, being carried ninety degrees by the excavator, that is from the front to the right side above the truck, would risk overturning the crane. But this isn’t going to happen, as the weight center doesn’t change outside the supporting area, which has been increased by placing the steel foot on the right. You might be wondering, OK, what’s the steel foot on the left for? This is the most interesting aspect of the device. Our crane, as opposed to the much inferior German and American models, was designed to turn a full 360 degrees, as you’ll see. This way, if by chance due to conditions in the field the truck can’t be placed on the right, it can be moved to the left and the crane will rotate, unloading the cargo on the left instead of the right. Please take a close look at the steel cables. They’re eight centimeters in diameter and have a rope-like design, obtained by twisting hundreds of thin steel wires. Their strength is thus fully assured. Let’s go on to the excavator. It consists of this large toothed mouth whose very weight can shatter a concrete block of two cubic meters. The energy required for operating the excavator is produced by a special engine. Consequently, there are three engines: one for operating the device back and forth, one for the crane, and one for the excavator. The harmonious coordination of three engines that work together, as well as independently, requires a very good professional. The operator has to control simultaneously the excavator and the crane, with very high precision. Thus, he uses six controls that he operates with both hands, as well as three pedals he operates in a certain sequence with his feet. A single mistake in using these controls can lead to the blocking of the levers and automatic stopping of the engines. That’s why operators work four-hour shifts. The operator sits in his cabin with perfectly transparent Plexiglas windows, for a better view of the device. He sits comfortably in a steel chair lined with plastic pillows that reduce the vibrations produced by the engines. The operator’s work calls for great concentration and effort and is labeled as heavy work. And now," said the foreman Mitica looking at the fat man, "let’s see how it works." The fat man nodded and the foreman mounted in the operating booth. We were all eyes and ears, but when the engines started, we covered our ears. A hundred airplanes taking off at once couldn’t have made that much noise. We felt sorry for Mitica, but after seeing him stuff cotton in his ears, our attention was turned to the toothed mouth which rose gracefully, turned 90 degrees to where the receiving truck was supposed to be, rotated along its longitudinal axle, as though to dump its load, and gracefully returned to its initial position. Through the Plexiglas we could see the foreman throw his arms around to grab the controls and we understood he was right saying it was heavy work. The mouth rose again, did the same on the left side, then described a clockwise full circle.

I can hardly explain the impact this show had on us. We’d never seen anything like it. A railway engine followed by thirty trucks, passing by you at a hundred kilometers an hour is a thrilling show. You feel the same when seeing a plane take off, then disappear in the sky. You rub your eyes and don’t believe it happened. Not to mention seeing a machine as big as a dinosaur moving with the precision of a Swiss clock, operated by a comparatively tiny human being, this fills you with joy and pride! That is what the new people, the wonderful people of ourdays can do!

Meanwhile Costica was gesticulating to the fat man while the latter was whispering in his ear. Costica pulled one of the strapping fellows aside and told him something in sign language. The other ran back to the truck, while another man approached the dinosaur and spoke to the foreman Mitica. He nodded and started again. A minute later, No.1 moved slowly but surely toward a huge heap of debris. Transporting this heap had been our assignment the previous week. The machine stopped and we, the workers, together with the reporters, cameramen, the commander and instructors, the high official and his group (Costica and the strapping fellows) approached the heap too. The truck made its way through the crowd and stopped at the side of the dinosaur. The steel mouth grabbed a concrete block the size of an automobile, lifted it as if it were a feather and initiated its 90 degree turn. Had it not been for the deafening noise of the engine, you could have heard a fly buzzing. We were all speechless. This was when the incident occurred. The mouth of the excavator stopped halfway, rocked like a yo-yo, the supporting cable snapped like a violin string and the concrete fell smack on the truck, flattening it. Suddenly, there was silence. Luckily the driver had jumped out and started running away, while the foreman Mitica was desperately pulling the levers. The next minute, another cable snapped, making a gunfire sound, and the arm of the crane and the steel mouth both fell to the ground. We hurried away from the dying dinosaur. Better said, we were running. The reporters hurried to their truck, the fat man jumped into the limousine, without assistance, followed closely by Costica and the other fellows. The foreman Mitica jumped into a truck and sped away too, leaving behind a cloud of dust, a dead dinosaur and a lot of confused faces. Our commander and the instructors, consulting in a low voice, tried to figure out what to do. Then they left as well, unable to come to a decision. Left on our own, we started debating the event. Many were scratching their head. How many horse power? How many tonnes? How many screws and parts? Some were unabashedly doubting everything. The women were too, except for Maria Cojocaru, who was crying, the helmet close to her chest.

The following day we were told that criminal hands, members of American intelligence agencies, had managed to infiltrate our honest workers and had sabotaged the assembly of No.1, substituting faulty parts for good. It was then that we first heard phrases like "revolutionary vigilance," "industrial sabotage," "gullible people," "traitors" and some others that we applied when necessary, thus enriching our vocabulary.

Soon we went back to work. We went on demolishing and clearing one sector after another, letter by letter, until we finished the alphabet. By mistake, the debris in sector Z was taken by our unsophisticated beasts of burden back to the beginning of the alphabet, sector A. As a result work went on starting again from the Beginning, and that monument of the age, created by the ingenuity and talent of our wonderful industrial leaders, was left lying in the place of its sudden death. It may be still there today, covered in dust and shame.

Translated from Romanian by Simona Zanfir.

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