Martin Vopěnka | The Sleeping City

         The children turned uphill along a smaller street that took them to the tram tracks. There was no one standing at the tram stop; the street was deserted, all the shops shut. Just one old lady hobbled along the pavement with the aid of a stick. .

         They crossed to the other side and carried on up the hill until they reached the newly fenced basketball ground where Dad often took them. There was no one in the playground, but hanging around in the adjoining little park was a group of big boys and girls. They were smoking and discussing something excitedly.

         All the four children dashed straight into the playground and Christopher made the decision. „I'll play with Samuel against you two.“

         „No,“ objected Ema. „I want to play with Samuel.“

         „I want to play with him too, not just you,“ complained Christina angrily.

         „But it won't work,“ Christopher insisted. „You can't play with him – you would just lose.“

         „So we lose. So what?“

         Samuel,  although the smallest, proposed a solution: „Okay, I'll play for a bit with Christopher and then we'll change places and I'll play with Emma and in the end I'll play with Christina.“

         They argued a little longer, but then that was the way they did it. Christina went up to the goal. Behind her she was that nasty gang of older kids; she didn't like the way the girls were using bad words too, and smoking.

         They began to play. Christina watched as Emma out in front lost the ball,   Christopher was getting closer and closer...But at that moment she heard a fragment of the conversation behind her: „Shit guys, my parents too!  Just lying there...same all over the country.“

         Christina stopped keeping her eye on the game. The blood rushed to her head. She kept on listening: „My class teacher is a mum too. All the teachers are parents, except for that nerd on the computers. Shit, no way will there be any school.“

         „I heard there wouldn't be anything at all,“ someone replied „the army is taking care of everything.“

         Christopher had just scored a goal, „Hey Christina...“, said Emma indignantly, „You could have stopped that.“

         „Goal,“ Sam exulted, „We gotta goal!“

         Christina sat down on the ground and started crying. She didn't know why she was crying. She had no real idea what the words she had been hearing meant. All she knew was that it was something terribly – terribly serious.  And that it was to do with Mum and Dad. She suspected now that her parents were not going to wake up just like that. Nothing was going to be as it had been before.

         The others ran up to her and stared: „What's wrong? What happened to you? So you didn't stop a goal...It doesn't matter.“

          Christina just went on sobbing, her head in her hands. She couldn't get a word out.

         „Chrissie... Please. Chrissie“, Emma tried to comfort her.

         Christina looked around miserably. No, she just couldn't find words to express what she suspected, what she all but knew for certain. „Mum and Dad!“ she burst out, „Our parents! It's bad!“

         „What about them?“ they were all asking, „What's bad?“

         But the more they asked the worse Christina felt. „Ask those people over there!“ she turned and pointed behind her to the gang of older kids, then jumped up and set off at a run in the direction of home. Emma, Christopher and Samuel watched her with amazement. „What's got into her?“

         One of the girls in the gang was already approaching them. She was around seventeen, with a black skirt and raven black hair. „Hey, haven't you haven't heard yet...“ she started without much gentleness, but with a touch of sympathy, „All the parents – mums and dads – have gone to sleep. It's a sort of illness or whatever. They're not dead, but anyone who ever had a kid has fallen asleep.  If you know anyone without kids who can look after you, you ought to go and find them.“

         „Why don't you look after them yourself?“ someone else from the gang jeered.

         „Yeah, breast feed them,“ another suggested, „That little one could be yours.“

         „Or that big one,“ jibed yet another.

         „Look, just get the hell out of here, will you?,“ said the dark-haired girl coarsely. Ema couldn't understand her rudeness when she had just been so nice to them.

         „But when are they going to wake up?“ Christopher asked stupidly.

         Instead of an answer there was a great roar of laughter from the park. Even the girl giggled and shrugged: „How do I know? It could take just a while, or it could be forever.“  She turned to go. „Just find someone, right? Specially for the little boy. Understand me?“

from Spící město

Translated by Anna Bryson