On the nature of the characters' human names:

For Czechia: Kristýna is the derivative of the English form "Christina," meaning follower of Christ. Her last name Vaněk, feminine form Vaňková, means "greater glory."

For Slovakia: Frederik means "ruler" or more specifically "peaceful ruler." His last name, Procházka, means "stroll."

15 November, 1939

The window creaked against the cold autumn wind. A slight draft invaded the library, where students normally gathered together to stress about exams in silent solidarity, among the rows of ancient books depicting heroic figures in history. All of them hoped that one day they'll be remembered: as a sentence, as a footnote, as a memory.

At the moment, however, the library was not a quiet sanctum; it was a bustling auditorium as they prepared a protest against the parasite. Nevertheless, the library's intent was preserved amongst all the noise, a stronghold for knowledge and the protector of ideas. Here, the students decided, was when they'll reinvent the future because no one would do it for them. They came from all grades and majors, united at the notion of freeing their dear country from occupation. There were about a thousand in total, a few dozen of whom gathered at the library for temporary shelter as they waited for the procession.

On the second floor, two twenty-year-olds occupied a quiet corner. One of them, a boisterous man with aspirations in law, and the other, an exhausted woman who dreamed of becoming an astronomer.

"Do you think it'll go well," asked Frederik Procházka, propping his feet upon the table while precariously balancing himself on his chair. Brown hair swept over his eyes and over a head bandage, an unwarranted medallion from a scuffle with a German officer. "The last time it happened, it caused this ," he waved his hand theatrically at the congregation below, "to pass."

The question was directed at his companion, Kristýna Vaňková. She toyed with a red ribbon in her left hand; soon she would have to use it to tie her hair in a bun. Her fingers were callused after long hours besides a lamp, gripping a pencil as she wrote down equations. "I have confidence that this one will work out better. The Germans need us…"

She let the statement trail off, knowing what exactly the Germans could do. It was, unfortunately, the only thing they knew confidently, which bothered Kristýna to no end. Frederik merely shrugged in response and turned his attention back towards the window.

Outside, their classmates huddled in tight groups. Soon, they will amass into a larger one for the funeral procession of Jan Opletal, a medical student who was shot and killed last month during Independence Day. Neither Kristýna nor Frederik knew him well, but both respected his actions to the point where they were willing to finish what he started.

Behind them were bare trees spread sparsely on the green. Some of them still bore the vestiges of birds' nest. Perhaps a few still had eggs. Perhaps nothing will disturb the peaceful robins. The word "perhaps" embodied all of humanity's uncertainties and all of humanity's futures.

"You know if things go horribly wrong, follow the plan," Kristýna said.

She stood up and began tying her hair up, as it helped her concentrate on the situation at hand. She always had a plan. It assured her that there was always a way out, always a light to guide her when darkness suddenly falls.

"And what if the plan goes horribly wrong?" responded Frederik, giving her a sideways glance.

Something inside Kristýna twitched at the notion of one of her plans going wrong. They had a high success rate and on the small chance one failed, review, revise and plan again. But this wasn't a trajectory problem where she had all night and the next morning; this was a demonstration that always had the present in mind. She couldn't erase the problem and start over again.

She jabbed her thumb at Frederik as a retort. "Then it's your job to improvise. Now, get up. Do you hear the voices?"

Frederik sighed, a hint of pessimism lingering in his breath as he stood up. He had doubts on this succeeding but he had a trick: by not worrying about it. Such has been his philosophy for the past decade. Kristýna told him to change it, in fear of him being too zealous, but today was not that day.

He was a lawyer by studies. He would waltz in the classroom wearing a rumpled button-down that he forgot to iron and trousers that were haphazardly put on as he raced across the school for his debate that he read the night before. Frederik never worried about anything, as worrying meant more stress, and more stress meant more likely to make mistakes in his rhetoric. This method so far had an impeccable track record.

Kristýna pushed in her chair and together, they started walking towards the stairs to join the river of other students pouring out of the library. They didn't brandish posters but planned to brandish their voices. Frederik was naturally loud. Kristýna had the capability to be loud when the situation called for it.

Now, Frederik could yell unrestrained and Kristýna had a reason.

They marched out of the library and integrated themselves in the crowd. They would go wherever Jan's intentions led them, and that would be the heart of Prague.

The black hearse lead them through the sprawling city. Some of the windows were lighted as evening fell but barely any of them were inhabited as their residents poured onto the streets to observe. Some of them were the parents of the students in the procession and they could hear faint but excited Ahoj matko! Ahoj otče!

Neither of their parents knew they were on the streets. Though Kristýna's mother probably had an inkling that her daughter was among the throb of people, Frederik's parents would never think that their dear son would partake in political responsibility.

Of course, it's not like his parents would know of the protest anyway, though they probably had an idea. Frederik was sure that him and his family was fine. All of the Procházkas could talk their way out of anything. Whether that ability would be affected by the recent crackdown on Jews is a different matter; he loved learning about new things, but this is the one subject he would abstain from.

The procession came to a brief halt at the train station where they assumed his body would be sent to his home town in Moravia. Everything became quieter, until only snatches of whispering remained. A cold wind blew through the area. Kristýna contracted her body further into her overcoat and Frederik, noticing this, took his scarf and wrapped it around her.

"You really should have dressed warmer if we were going to be out here this long," he said.

"I am wearing two coats and a long-sleeved sweater," she fumed, although the faintest traces of a grin were present on her lips. She tilted her head up and straightened her back so that their eyes met. "I don't think I could be any warmer if I could." She resumed her stoic silence but she tugged his scarf a little closer to her, where the cloth barely brushed her exposed face.

Frederik's cheeks were red, but whether it was from the cold or a warm happiness, he did not know. He always loved it when she smiled, genuinely smiled. But he was not sure whether he loved her. They have been friends for so long now that it was virtually impossible to imagine themselves as anything but.

Still, there were moments where Frederik did feel for Kristýna. It happened during spontaneous moments: when they spent long nights studying for their exams, when they sent furtive glances at one another across a room, when they basked in the sun during the warmer months, when she listened to his proposals about some dusty court case. He wasn't sure if Kristýna felt those moments as well.

In fact, she too grappled with her emotions. The scarf smelled faintly of old paper and coffee. Under her focused expression, a hurricane of possibilities swirled within her mind.

She was well aware of Frederik's moments, how he would smile brighter when she was there and how he always made her feel radiant after an abysmal day. Kristýna considered herself a free-spirited woman, so she would make him chase her, until they were both tired and collapsed into each other's arms.

The both of them knew, however, it would be a long time until that happened.

The procession marched on. Even though Jan's body was no longer here, his spirit lived on in the heart of his fellow students. The procession transformed into one of reverence to one of protest as bursts of yelling erupted through the crowd. Suddenly, the peaceful, winding river transformed into one of ferocity, whipped up from the incoming storm.

Where is my home, where is my homeland,

Water roars across the meadows,

Pinewoods rustle among crags,

The garden is glorious with spring blossom,

Paradise on earth it is to see.

And this is that beautiful land,

The Czech land, my home,

The Czech land, my home!

Where My Home Is. The national anthem of Czechia rang loud and clear like a church bell tolling. Their hearts were trapped in their lungs and the only way to relieve the pressure was to sing.

As the procession reached Charles Square, they came in contact with the police and quickly scattered into the open doors of the nearby Technical University. Kristýna grabbed Frederik by the hand and dragged him under an arch, squished uncomfortably with the other throb of students. Kristýna's lungs were squashed under the weight of people's heavy winter coats and her brain wanted to explode with the force of her classmates' nervous chatter. Meanwhile, Frederik and his lanky figure had no problem with the predicament.

"What do you think is going to happen?" he said, echoing the concerns of others. "…Do you think we should leave?"

"Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?"

Frederik stood on his toes and moved his head left and right, trying to search for an exit. "I'm just concerned for our safety, that is all."

"Wait. Let's see what happens next and then we'll decide. If you see anything up there, tell me. "

Anything, so far, did not exist. Frederik became frustrated and claustrophobic being surrounded by so many people in such tight quarters. He was used to wildly gesturing his arms in an open room. Kristýna did not mind the restless, though static atmosphere; she was used to working in cramped conditions, building mock rockets and boats in the small basement under her house.

And then the parade broke through the wall of uncertainty. Something triggered something amidst a background of nothing. The phenomenon of quantum tunneling was happening before her very eyes.

Besides her, Frederik seemed to have caught this new life. He shouted at the top of his lungs: Down with the Nazis!

The crowd surged forward and out they went, nearly getting trampled by the ecstatic students knowing that they were doing something for the cause. It marched and marched, all around Prague, until they were tired and the day had ended. All the students drifted towards their homes in a dream, the coming nightmare far behind their vision.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" said Kristýna. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck, admittedly with a tinge of regret as soon as the cold touched her bare skin.

Frederik took back his scarf and wrapped it around his own. Now it was tinged with her scent: a delicate lavender. He nodded. "You will."

And with those words, both of them entered their houses and shut themselves away from the world, succumbing to a nap, and leaving their school work for the morning.

17 November 1939

Morning dawned upon Prague. The alarms of students who had morning classes all rang before eight o'clock, but it was the matter of actually throwing the warm covers off and having the effort to walk to the bathroom.

Neither Kristýna nor Frederik were morning people and would rather stay under the comforting night. The difference between them, however, laid in their work ethics. Kristýna's awakening was marked with a grudging moan as she stumbled from her bed, turning off the alarm, and doing her normal routine before brewing herself a cup of coffee and walking to the university. A few houses down, Frederik mumbled "five more minutes" three times before blindly slamming his palm down on the clock, rushing his clothes and hygiene, and stuffing papers in his bag, before dashing out the front door. Sometimes he would be on time, and sometimes not.

In whichever case, they would not be seeing each other until later. The most they ever see of each other are fleeting glances in the hallways and of course, during the free period.

Two days had passed since Jan Opletal's funeral procession. Yesterday passed by with no complaints or remarks. Everyone resumed classes and hustled and bustled and had no reason to panic besides upcoming tests.

But those two days were merely part of the eye of the storm. The second part had yet to come.

They sat near their usual spot in the library. Frederik munched on a sandwich, where the crumbs laid on the folds of his shirt. Kristýna had already ate lunch, since it was against the rules to eat in the library, and instead occupied herself with a physics problem.

"Make sure you clean up, afterwards," she mumbled.

"Of course. Of course. I'm not a heathen." He dabbed a napkin on his mouth and put it on the table, only for it to fall down on the floor with a single sweep of his arm.

Kristýna wrinkled her nose in disgust, but still kept writing. "You're twenty goddamn years old. Pick up after your own mess."

"I was going to pick it up myself. Calm down." As he bent down, Frederik peaked at the work that she was doing. Adjacent to the Greek letters and swirly symbols, he saw a paragraph or two next to a numbered step. "Is that for Silvie?"

She lifted her head up, dazedly smiling. "Yeah. In class today, we were learning about integrals in three-dimensional space."

Frederik resisted the urge to release an affectionate sigh. "And yet, you're doing homework at school?"

"We've been through this conversation a million times already, but I guess you don't quite understand proactivity considering that your debate is tomorrow. Go check out a book on tax evasion laws."

"Ah… perhaps later." He shrugged. "I have plenty of time." In fact, seventeen hours was enough to prepare his defense.

Kristýna sighed and continued her work. Now since there are three integrals, you can integrate x, y, or z first. Though, I prefer to do them in alphabetical order… . Frederik closed his eyes and put his head down on the table, wanting a quick nap before jumping into the second half of the day.

Five minutes did not passed before his head jolted up, woken up into a dreamy stupor from a door slam. Annoyed, he put his head down again, but was once again woken up, this time by a jarring tug on his shirt.

"Look," Kristýna said., her voice lowering by several octaves, "they're Nazis."

At once, he roused from his seat, and his suspicions came true. There were repercussions to their actions from two days ago.

Both of them bolted from their seats, with Kristýna leading the way. Unfortunately, her plan did not become obsolete.

It hurt her to stuff the papers into her bag and not place them neatly in their folders. Wordlessly, she jabbed her chin to the next flight of stairs and Frederik followed suit.

As they ascended to the third floor, they peered downstairs and saw with abject horror people getting apprehended. The students fled, heading towards windows in vain or upstairs to the second floor -

Bang!

"God bless them," thought Kristýna. There was no time to stop, not even to flinch. "I'll see you guys soon."

He didn't want to say goodbye, because goodbye would mean the end. Everything follows the First Law of Thermodynamics: energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it is merely changed. She liked to think that it also applied to the human soul. She'll see them again, in one form or another.

Frederik had no such qualms. He knew where they were headed. They will either meet their end in flame or in ice. He was a cynic in this regard - that he will end up in the same place as them. There was no possible way that his Jewish ancestry could be hidden indefinitely.

They exited through the fire escape and down the stairs - but she did not plan on someone getting there before her. Her first instinct was to run, but a soldier yanked her away from escape.

"What are you doing? Let go of me! Frederik? Frederik!"

Unfortunately, Frederik was in the same predicament as she was. "Hey, hey! How about we talk about this for a sec-"

He never got the chance to finish that sentence before one of the soldiers punched him square in the face, leaving an ugly bruise on his cheeks and the wind knocked out of him. He reeled back from the impact and felt something fall down his cheek. Whether it was tears or blood, he could not determine.

Kristýna screamed as soon as she saw Frederik getting hurt. In retaliation with a force unknown to her, she delivered a swift kick to her captor's private extremities, causing him to cry out with a satisfactory enough pain to release her and focus on saving Frederik. For the other soldier, she kicked him in the shin and stomped on his feet, using her short height as an advantage; Frederik also contributed by elbowing the soldier, which finally brought him down.

And then they bolted from the scene, heading deeper into New Town for neither of them wanted their family to be involved in this. They knew the city like the back of their hands. The streets were their veins, interconnecting and interlocking with each other, and this time, Kristýna's intuition lead her to the industrial part of Prague, where rusty warehouses dominated the area.

Behind them, they heard angry shouts, but it seemed like there were no more than two. Frederik knew a little German and based on what he heard, he shouldn't translate for Kristýna. In response, he shouted expletives in Czech and Slovak, but had to refrain himself from saying anything in Hebrew.

Kristýna skidded to a stop and they took refuge in an unlocked warehouse with a few blocks of wood, beams of rusting iron, shards of glass, tools, and rope. Thank goodness she had her hair tied up.

"I need you to help me build a device. Grab the other end of the steel beam and I'll grab the other… Ack! That's good enough. Now is there enough rope to tie it to the ceiling…? Okay there is. I think the sprinklers are enough to support the weight. Frederik! Are you fine there?"

The ceiling was only a few inches taller than Frederik; comfortable for her, cramped for him. If he was any taller, the top of his head would brush the ceiling. Nevertheless, he fastened the rope around the steel beam and around the sprinkler, with Kristýna supporting the beam from her end. When he was done, they switched sides.

"You have the upper body strength. When I give you the signal, I want you to push it through the window when I show two fingers. Do you think you can do that?"

Kristýna stared at him with smoldering eyes, absolutely convinced that this contrived plan involving a hastily constructed contraption will work at the cost of putting herself in danger and then promptly left and appeared a second later in front of the window. Neither of them had any real training in combat besides what their adrenaline told them to do, so really, he didn't have a Plan B if this doesn't work.

Frederik aligned himself with the far side of the ram and prepared himself. Meanwhile, his partner stood stoically out and apparently, was holding a glass shard in her left hand. Perhaps she did have a Plan B after all.

He was only allotted a few seconds of thinking before he spotted the two-fingered symbol and with all his might, he pushed it towards the window with marvelous success. One of the two soldiers was hit square in the face and fell down, dazed and confused, while the other skidded past but didn't maintain balance.

At the end of the confusion, Kristýna forced herself to lunge forward and stab the still-conscious soldier in the chest and found that Frederik finished the job with a blow to the head. Soon, the second soldier was knocked out.

Both of them breathed heavily as they started at the unconscious bodies. They were both alive, as evidenced by the rise-and-fall of their chests, but neither of the two students wanted to kill them.

They weren't killers; they refused to be. They wanted to keep their souls intact and didn't want to pick up the pieces when they broke if they ever will be. And so, they propped the unconscious bodies up on a nearby lamppost and thrifted through their belongings for anything incriminating; they just found a crumpled piece of paper with thousands of names and indeed, among them were written theirs. Every officer probably had the list in their pockets, but they were still compelled to burn them.

"And that is that," mumbled Frederik. He stared blankly at the scene below him, clutching the confiscated papers in his hands.

Kristýna instead closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and fluttered them open again. "We can no longer exist."

They stared at each other a silent conversation passed, and then they walked nonchalantly away from the bodies, acting like they returned from a nice stroll, but neither of them spoke to each other as they returned to their homes.

The statues lining the Charles Bridge stood tall and proud, just as one would expect from the magnanimous saints. During the summers, they would walk on its cobblestoned ground and admired the vast view of the Vltava River. St. Ivo, St. Barbara, St. Margaret, St. Elizabeth, St. Francis of Assisi…may they watch over them.

The Procházkas' house had assimilated itself into the dull brown townhouses as the years passed, but even before, it was rather unassuming. They were preparing to move back to Slovakia. All their papers have been prepared and their tracks covered. France has fallen and Poland a memory. They were trapped on the continent, soon-to-be graveyard with no means to travel to America. If they were going to be in Europe, they will be surrounded by family.

Frederik would be staying with them for only a few months, at least until Hanukah ended. He didn't want to worry about what would happen on the journey, or when they got there, or if they'll survive or not. Really, it was much easier if he assumed everything would go right.

But Kristýna , with her ever watchful eyes, devised several back-up plans for them. Although the family appreciated the gesture, they doubted whether they were actually doing to use them or not.

She offered her palm. "I'll burn them."

"Thank you," he replied and handed the papers. He saw her regard his response with a nod but before she left, he said, "Wait!"

She turned around with one eyebrow cocked. "Yes?"

His posture slackened and his thoughts were at a lost as he wrestled with his lips to blurt out the words. Kristýna mockingly tapped her foot on the concrete, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Frederik managed to kick himself to say it. What did he have to lose? Surely, nothing could change between them if he offered her it.

He unraveled his scarf once again and raveled it around Kristýna's neck. "I don't know when I'll come back, but if I don't, please have this."

Kristýna felt her cheeks turn red and this time, she knew that it wasn't from the cold. Once again, he managed to transform her organized mind into a state of entropy. Who did he think he was, marching into her heart like this? She didn't want to openly admit that perhaps, she did love him; to her he was still the boy with the chipped tooth who always cried whenever she did better than him.

Of course, both of them forgot that there are other ways to say I love you without saying "I love you" - such as giving the other a soft nod, a tight hug, and ending a conversation with "Please be careful."

Frederik doubted he will be careful. Subtlety was not his specialty but just for her, he will make a special effort.

They parted ways. He entered his house, releasing a sigh as soon as he did, said hello to his parents, and immediately succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, she walked a few houses down towards her own house and quietly opened and closed the door as her mother was sleeping; with a matchbox, she lighted the fireplace and dropped the confiscated documents into the flames, watching the edges of the paper smolder and blacken. Soon, they turned into ash and Kristýna doused the fire with water and swept the ashes into a waste bin.

From this point on, Kristýna Vaňková and Frederik Procházka did not exist.

The date refers to International Students Day, the day where thousands of students protested occupation, causing the Nazis to shut all universities down and sending many to concentration camps.

Also, the chapter titles are based on the song "Cuckoo" by Benjamin Britten (as well as the title).