25
W
HEN
G
YONG-HO AND
I
L-SUN
arrived at the factory, the other women were already at their stations in a frenzy of work. The foreman scowled at them as they entered.
“Song Gyong-ho! You’re late! This is most unacceptable,” he shouted loudly enough for all in the room to hear.
“I am very sorry, comrade foreman, sir. It is my fault and I am unworthy of leniency. I will work through all the breaks today to make up for my insolence.”
“Indeed you will. Now get to your station!”
Nothing was said to Il-sun.
The girls made it to their stations, Gyong-ho hurrying, Il-sun shuffling her feet. Gyong-ho went immediately to task, working faster than she had ever worked before. She knew that Il-sun would be well below her quota today and she wanted to make up for it. Il-sun’s behavior was insubordinate beyond reason, and Gi could not imagine that she could skate by this time without punishment. Hopefully it would be no more than severe public humiliation at the next self-criticism meeting. If she admitted her transgressions publicly before anyone else got a chance to bring them up, and if she showed an appropriate amount of remorse, it might be enough to keep her from worse punishment.
In her rush to catch up with the quota, Gi nearly ran her hand through the sewing machine. She had seen it happen before when the needle of a machine lodged itself in a worker’s index finger. The needle stabbed right through the bone and stuck between the second and third knuckles. The force of the motor then lifted her whole hand into the carriage of the machine. The woman had gone pale and, in shock, could not release the power pedal. Her finger was crushed by the straining motor.
Il-sun made a halfhearted attempt to do her job, but she eventually laid her head down and fell asleep. Gi kicked her several times to try to wake her, but to no effect. Oddly, the foreman paced his usual rounds but said nothing to her, as if he had not even noticed. This filled Gyong-ho with dark foreboding. The breaks came and went and Gyong-ho sewed while Il-sun slept.
At the end of the day, the whistle blew and the women went through the ritual of stacking trousers neatly for the daily tally. Gyong-ho was well above the quota, though the quality of her work was marginal. Il-sun had few pairs of trousers at her station. Gyong-ho split her own pile, giving most to Il-sun. Now they were both well below the quota, but Il-sun had a better chance of redemption.
“Comrade Song, I am deeply, deeply disappointed in your performance today.” The foreman’s tone was patronizing. “You have offended the very idea that this great society is founded on. Just look at this pathetic pile of trousers! Are you aware that you are far below your quota for today?”
“Yes, comrade foreman, sir. There is no excuse for my behavior. I have failed the Dear Leader.” Gyong-ho kept her head down while she spoke the deprecation.
“I would say you have. You have put a smirch on the great lineage of the
Chosun
people. I would be well justified in having you tried for treason.”
Gyong-ho went cold. Her lips trembled and her voice quavered as she replied, “No punishment would be too great for my offense, comrade foreman, sir.”
“The Dear Leader saw fit to give you a second chance. Because I try to model myself in his great likeness, even though I am a far lower being, I am going to follow his example. I will give you one chance to redeem yourself. Because of your insolence, my factory is not meeting its quota. You will stay tonight, all night if you have to, until you make up the shortfall. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir, comrade foreman, sir. You are too generous. I will not fail the Dear Leader.”
“No, you will not.”
Il-sun was standing at her station with her head down. She looked nervous and uncertain.
“Are you waiting for something, Comrade Park Il-sun?” asked the foreman gruffly.
“Sir?” Il-sun looked up at him, confused.
“You have a meeting to attend, don’t you, comrade? The Party Youth meeting that meets after work? You are going to be late.”
“But, sir . . .”
“Did I ask you to stay? Get off my factory floor. Now!”
“Yes, sir.” Il-sun looked sheepishly toward Gyong-ho, who was ghost white, then headed toward the door.
26
I
L-SUN FELT TERRIBLE.
S
HE
was walking alone to the building of the Party Youth for the weekly meeting, the absence of Gyong-ho following her like an unwanted companion. She had not imagined that Gi would be punished on her behalf. Gi had sacrificed her own well-being, giving her the trousers she had made. She did this every day, and yet Il-sun never really thanked her or gave her anything in return. Not even friendship, lately.
What is wrong with me
? she asked herself.
I have been so selfish
. She thought of the mistress and her heart sank even lower. She had been especially cruel to the mistress, who had done nothing but care for her for four years.
What was it she said this morning?
“You are trying to frighten me, but all I feel is sad. Very, very sad.”
She hated disappointing the mistress. She felt like walking directly to the orphanage to apologize, but it would have to wait until after the meeting. She had stirred up enough trouble for one day. She wanted to tell the mistress that she would never tell anyone about
John and Daisy
. In fact, she would return the book that evening. How could she make up for her behavior, to both the mistress and to Gi?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a scooter. She turned to see the young man, his newsboy cap missing, his sunglasses high on his nose. He looked unusually disheveled.
“Il-sun, get on. We have to talk. Quickly!” He sounded panic-stricken.
“I have to go to the Party Youth meeting. I can’t be late.”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about. You can’t go to the meeting. Get on and I will explain everything.” He looked around nervously. Il-sun hesitated. “Hurry!”
She climbed on the back of the scooter. She knew she was going to have to verbally thrash herself and conjure real tears of remorse at the next self-criticism meeting if she was going to get out of this. She vowed that she would step back in line and change her behavior. For once, she longed to be the picture-perfect
Chosun
citizen.
The young man drove them to a run-down area of the city where the roads were still made of dirt and gravel and the houses were shacks cobbled together from odd scraps. They parked at one of the nondescript houses and he led her inside. No one else was in the one-room building.
“Where are we?” asked Il-sun.
“This is my cousin’s house. We’ll be safe here.”
“Safe? What’s going on?”
“We’re in serious trouble, Il-sun. Very serious trouble.” He was speaking rapidly and he seemed uncharacteristically frantic.
“Trouble? Why?” As soon as she asked, she thought of the events of the night before and knew the answer. He had gone too far with the image of the Dear Leader.
“I’m glad I found you before you got to the Party Youth meeting. They were going to accuse you there of high treason tonight. They want to make a public example out of you.”
Il-sun felt faint. She had never imagined that she could be in so much trouble. “Are you sure? How do you know?” The strength was gone from her voice. She knew inside that it was true.
“That guy at the party last night, the one we call Rooster. It turns out that he is an informer. He told his superiors about what I did last night to the photograph. I thought for sure he was okay, but I was wrong. Now everyone at that party is suspect.”
“But what about your contacts? Can’t they step in for you?”
“Now all they can do is buy me a little time. That is the only reason I was able to find you.” He swallowed hard, perspiration ringing the underarms of his shirt and rolling down his forehead.
“What can we do?” Il-sun felt tears in her eyes.
“We have to leave the country. Tonight.”
“Leave the country? How? Where will we go?” The prospect of leaving the country, though she had romanticized the notion in the past, was terrifying in these circumstances.
“That’s why I came to get you. We have to stay here until it gets dark. I’ve used my contacts to get a truck and some forged travel documents. I can’t tell you all the details now in case we get caught.”
Il-sun broke down sobbing. She collapsed into his arms and cried on his shoulder.
“Look, don’t cry. We aren’t going to be caught. It is just a precaution. I have crossed the border many times. In fact, I do it every week; it’s simple. As long as you do exactly as I tell you, then everything is going to be alright. Okay?”
She tried to look brave, sucking in her tears.
“Okay.”
27
F
OREMAN
H
WANG WAS SITTING
at his desk, looking over a pile of papers.
It’s amazing how much paperwork it takes to make a person disappear,
he thought.
That’s the problem today: too much bureaucracy
. He put down his pen and sat back in his chair. He felt tense. He looked at the paper bag under his desk.
I could sure use a release . . . Not yet, there is work to be done
. He bent over his papers again.
His thoughts drifted to Gyong-ho, still on the factory floor, alone, completely focused even though she had been working nonstop for twelve hours.
She is such good Party material, yet the new guard will never let her in. Stupid pencil necks have no brains,
he thought. He looked again at the paper bag.
No, too early. Of course, she could improve her
songbun
with a good marriage, then they might let her in. After all, she was only a child when she was in the camp, and only because of her parents. But who would want to marry her?
He peeked at the paper bag again.
Maybe just a teaser?
He reached into the bag and his hand landed on a roll of magazines. He pulled back as if he had touched something hot.
No, the bottle first. Always the bottle first.
He put his hand back in the bag and found one of the bottles. He pulled it out and opened the cap.
Ah, whiskey
. He poured himself half a glass. He could never quite give it up. When he was someone to know, in the army, he had gotten used to it. Whiskey was like currency in those days.
If anyone wants to get something done, just take old Hwang a bottle of whiskey, they used to say
. He preferred the black label, but the red would do. He raised the glass to his lips, intending to take a small sip to savor it, but drained the glass instead. He poured another, this time to the brim.
He hated his job. Stupid pencil necks placed him there after the accident. It never would have happened that way in the Great Leader’s time.
Kim Il-sung, what a man! A leader like that only comes along every thousand years. The son had to go and mess the whole damned thing up! Everyone hungry, letting people get away with things, and then they pretend it’s not happening.
He took a long swallow. Then another. He refilled the glass.
I was on my way to being general! I had the
songbun
for it; I had the credentials. I was the one everyone came to. I was the one everyone was talking about. Then that stupid dimwit had to pull the pin.
It was a training day; one of the rare days when they were allowed to use live ammunition. The foreman, or colonel, as he was then called, was invited along to inspect a sergeant putting his troops through the paces. First it was rifle fire, then bayonets. The finale would be a demonstration on the use of grenades.
The boys looked fine. The boys looked really fine
. At some point there was a commotion, and a lot of shouting. Someone screamed, “Put the pin back! Put the pin back!” The foreman turned around—the boys were scattering in all directions, running. Right in front of him was a young boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He was a dim-witted half-breed boy from near the Chinese border. The Great Leader would never have allowed someone like him in his army. It was an abomination. The boy lifted his hand as if to offer something. He looked confused. It was a grenade. The pin was in his other hand. The foreman dove away, but a moment too late. The sound engulfed him, the percussion jarred him, shrapnel tore mercilessly through his body. He felt hot all over with pain. He was sure he was dying. There was the smell of smoke and burning flesh. There were fingers everywhere. The boy was lying not too far away, his arm torn off, half his face a smoldering crater.
The foreman lived through his injuries, but his career did not. He was told that a lame military commander gave the troops the wrong image. They placed him as the foreman of the factory instead. It was the best they could do, they said. Apparently he had hidden enemies.
Never would it have happened in the Great General’s army!