Chapter 2: The October Revolution - Ten Days That Shook the World
Even though I was meeting the author of the book I'd been reading, my heart didn't race. Perhaps it was because my mind was already consumed by the question, Is this the author of "Ten Days That Shook the World"?
I glanced sideways at the man walking beside me, wearing a bowler hat.
John "Jack" Reed, American Socialist journalist.
But the reason this reporter had become famous enough for me to recognize him was simple: his magnum opus, Ten Days That Shook the World.
This book, often considered one of the world's three greatest works of literary journalism (the others being George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia and Red Star Over China—I can't remember the author of the latter), had been endorsed by none other than the renowned Vladimir Lenin himself.
Jack Reed stayed in Petrograd during the October Revolution, intensely reporting on the movements of the Soviets and the people. The result was his masterpiece, Ten Days That Shook the World, which propelled him to national fame.
But Jack Reed or no Jack Reed, is this really Petrograd in 1917?
It's absurd. A train that was perfectly fine, traveling from Vladivostok to Moscow, gets derailed by a beer bottle, transforms into a wooden coach with a thud, and ends up in Petrograd in 1917?
This isn't even a novel.
So it must be one of two things: a dream or a prank.
But it doesn't seem to be a dream. I've tried everything from the classic ear-pulling test to the advanced finger-bending maneuver, and they all failed.
Could this be a hidden camera? I looked around, but this felt too real to be a prank.
The rain-soaked streets, the women lining up outside the ration shop, the children running around in disheveled clothes—it was all too lifelike to be a set.
But could this be reality? Then the only explanation is that I've been living in a Truman Show-like illusion for the past 25 years.
"Could I have actually... traveled to Petrograd in 1917?"
"Comrade Siyoung, are you alright?"
Jack Reed approached me, likely annoyed by my mutterings.
It was understandable that he found me strange. From the moment we got off the train and started walking through the city, I hadn't spoken to him, but kept stretching and contorting my body, muttering to myself.
"Ah, it's nothing, Comrade. My body's a bit stiff from the long train ride."
"Take care of yourself, Comrade. I'm nearly forty, and I'm starting to feel pains all over. You're still in your twenties, right?"
Wow, tacking "Comrade" onto every sentence... That's so..
Doesn't that mean the Soviet Union's all-stars are here? From Vladimir Lenin to Leon Trotsky, Joseph Stalin... Oh, and of course, Jack Reed beside me is also a top prospect.
In other words, I might be swept up by the fervor of the October Revolution and even lead the revolution myself. According to that hairy flight attendant earlier, it's late September now. The revolution will occur in late October according to the Russian calendar. There's still plenty of time.
The problem is, my knowledge of the Russian Revolution isn't particularly solid. I'm not exactly sure what's happening and what's about to happen during this period. The revolution was on October... the 27th? I think I saw that when I was studying world history for the College Scholastic Ability Test, but I can't remember clearly.
I struck up a conversation with the man walking beside me, who could be considered Petrograd's best informant.
"Jack... Comrade Reed, what's the situation in Petrograd right now?"
"Just call me Jack, Comrade. I also call you 'Comrade Siyoung' casually, don't I? Among Socialists, there are no class distinctions, so feel free to call me by my name."
No, calling a man ten years my senior by his first name still feels... The Confucian dragon deep within me roared in protest.
"The situation is dire, but paradoxically, it's good for us Bolsheviks. Kerensky's incompetent coalition government is in chaos, and Kornilov's coup has been suppressed. This is the perfect opportunity for another revolution."
Jack Reed gave me a brief overview of the situation up to that point.
The February Revolution had toppled the monarchy. The weak Kerensky Government that followed chose to continue the war against Germany, a decision that naturally fueled widespread discontent among the Russian people.
To regain his dwindling popularity, Kerensky launched what became known as the Kerensky Offensive against the German Army. The result was a catastrophic failure.
This disaster cost Kerensky the support of the military as well. The situation spiraled further into chaos when Lavr Kornilov, Commander-in-Chief of the Russian Army, attempted a failed coup.
I already knew the general outline of these events, but hearing them directly from Jack Reed made it clear just how utterly disastrous the pre-revolutionary Russian situation was.
"For the commander-in-chief of the army to launch a coup? It's utterly disgraceful."
"Even more absurd is the reason for Kornilov's failure. He sent troops to Petrograd to crush both the Soviet and the Kerensky Government, but the railway workers refused to transport the soldiers!"
Beside Jack Reed, who spoke with fervor, I quietly nodded in agreement.
"Even though Kornilov's coup failed, it didn't mean the Russian people began supporting the Kerensky Government. Rather, they despised it even more. The people are well aware that the Kerensky Government only managed to stop the coup because the Soviet, led by the Bolsheviks, collaborated with them."
To summarize the current situation in a single word: explosive.
The German Army has occupied Riga, the capital of Latvia, and is threatening Petrograd.
The inept Kerensky Government is teetering, unable to resolve even basic economic problems.
Frustrated with the powerless government, the people have organized Soviets—councils—and are implementing policies independently.
It's a situation where revolution is more likely than not. A single spark could ignite a conflagration that would consume not only Russia but all of Europe.
"This is truly a historic moment," I said.
"Indeed, Comrade. A historic moment," he replied.
And I'm right here in this historic moment.
To be honest, I don't know whether this is really Petrograd in 1917, or if it's a dream, or if it's The Truman Show.
But one thing is certain: this truly is 1917.
If this were a dream, I'd simply wake up happily on the Trans-Siberian Railway. If this were The Truman Show, I'd just wave to the audience after the show ended.
But if this is truly 1917... I'm standing before a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A chance to witness a revolution that might only occur a few times in a lifetime, and to lead it.
And I'm not foolish enough to let that opportunity slip through my fingers.
I clenched both fists tightly.
"Here we are, Comrade. This is where you'll be staying."
Fortunately, the lodging was right in the heart of Petrograd. I was definitely going to make the most of my time in 1917 Petrograd. In fact, not having to worry about returning to Korea might even be a blessing.
I wasn't sure if I'd underestimated 1917-era inns, but thankfully, it had everything I needed. The bed had a lamp, and the bathroom wasn't a squat toilet—both surprises. Even in Korea, they were still using squat toilets until the 1970s. Europe was just different.
"I'm staying right below you, Comrade. If anything happens, just let me know. First, unpack your things, and then we'll head straight to the Soviet. Teacher Alexandra will be dying to see you."
"Ah, Teacher Alexandra..."
"Then I'll head down now. You can ask her any questions. Rest well, Comrade!"
With that, Jack Reed hurried downstairs. Did he have some urgent business to attend to?
The luggage I brought, unexpectedly, remained unchanged—except for looking somewhat antiquated, as one might expect from a century ago. But the most crucial item, my smartphone, was still missing. The laptop I'd brought in my bag had vanished without a trace.
"Well... it would have died soon anyway, so I guess there's no real need for it."
Mentally rationalizing my loss, I began unpacking my belongings.
Inside my bag were only clothes to change into, toiletries, a few writing tools, and money. It was as if someone had cast a spell and made all the 21st-century items vanish. This was truly a case of the spirits weeping.
When I checked my pants pocket, I found a bit of money and my identification. Upon closer inspection, there were two types of IDs. One had my real name, while the other was a fake identity for a Japanese merchant.
Was I such an important figure that they'd create a fake identity for me and send me to Petrograd? I was starting to wonder about my "backstory" in 1917.
Just then, footsteps echoed, and Jack Reed burst through the door.
This guy is friendly enough, but he's a bit... blunt.
"Comrade Siyoung! Have you finished unpacking?"
"Ah, yes, I think I've mostly finished."
"Then let's head out soon. We need to meet Teacher Alexandra."
"Right... right. Where is she now?"
Seeing me answer, drenched in sweat, Reed gave an awkward chuckle.
"Well, where else? She's at Smolny."
"Smolny?"
"The Smolny Institute, where the Soviet Revolutionary Committee is located. It's right in front of our lodging, so let's take our time getting there. Don't forget your identification documents."