The Drive That Crossed the Queue

At two in the morning, the radio station on Mercer Street is the quietest place in the city. Hamza likes it that way. He sits in the glass studio with a mug of hot chocolate and a stack of requests. On the other side of the glass, a bright sign says ON AIR.

Pukul dua dini hari, stasiun radio di Jalan Mercer adalah tempat paling sunyi di kota. Hamza menyukainya begitu. Ia duduk di studio kaca dengan secangkir cokelat panas dan setumpuk permintaan lagu. Di seberang kaca, sebuah papan terang bertuliskan SIARAN LANGSUNG.

He has hosted the late show for six years. Tonight it is a special one. At four o'clock, tickets for a famous band's only local concert go on sale. The sale starts at the station's front desk. Hamza will announce the start of the sale live. Then the station will give away the first hundred tickets to the people at the front.

Ia sudah enam tahun membawakan acara larut malam. Malam ini istimewa. Pukul empat, tiket konser satu-satunya band terkenal di kota ini mulai dijual. Penjualannya dimulai di meja resepsionis stasiun. Hamza akan mengumumkan dimulainya penjualan secara langsung. Lalu stasiun akan membagikan seratus tiket pertama kepada orang-orang di barisan depan.

Those people have been waiting since yesterday afternoon. Through the studio window, Hamza can see how many of them there are. The queue starts at the front door. It runs along Mercer Street, turns the corner, crosses the car park and disappears under the railway bridge. People sit on camping chairs and sleeping bags. Some of them hold small radios to their ears.

Orang-orang itu sudah menunggu sejak kemarin sore. Dari jendela studio, Hamza bisa melihat betapa banyaknya mereka. Antreannya dimulai dari pintu depan. Memanjang di Jalan Mercer, membelok di tikungan, melintasi tempat parkir, dan menghilang di bawah jembatan kereta api. Orang-orang duduk di kursi kemah dan kantong tidur. Sebagian memegang radio kecil di telinga mereka.

"Hamza," says a voice behind him. "I have a problem."

"Hamza," kata sebuah suara di belakangnya. "Aku punya masalah."

It is Tobin, the young sound engineer who works the night shift. He stands in the doorway, white as paper. In his hands is a dead black box with a cable hanging out of the back.

Itu Tobin, teknisi suara muda yang bekerja di shift malam. Ia berdiri di ambang pintu, pucat seperti kertas. Di tangannya ada kotak hitam yang mati dengan kabel menjuntai dari belakangnya.

"That is the playlist computer," Hamza says slowly.

"Itu komputer daftar putar," kata Hamza pelan.

"It was the playlist computer," Tobin says. "It has just died. Everything on it is gone. The songs, the jingles, the ad breaks, all of it."

"Tadinya komputer daftar putar," kata Tobin. "Barusan mati. Semua isinya hilang. Lagu-lagu, jingle, jeda iklan, semuanya."

Hamza looks at the clock above the door. It is 3:12. "How long can we play from the live desk?"

Hamza menatap jam di atas pintu. Pukul 3:12. "Berapa lama kita bisa memutar dari meja siaran langsung?"

"One CD player and one record," Tobin says. "That is two songs. About eight minutes."

"Satu pemutar CD dan satu piringan hitam," kata Tobin. "Itu dua lagu. Sekitar delapan menit."

"And the law says we cannot be silent."

"Dan hukum melarang kita membisu."

"For more than a minute, yes. If we go off the air, the station loses its licence for the night. And there are four thousand people outside waiting for us to say the word."

"Lebih dari semenit, ya. Kalau kita berhenti mengudara, stasiun kehilangan izin siaran untuk malam ini. Dan ada empat ribu orang di luar yang menunggu kita mengucapkan kata itu."

Hamza puts down his mug. "Is there a backup?"

Hamza meletakkan cangkirnya. "Ada cadangannya?"

Tobin's face changes. "There is a backup drive," he says. "It has everything. But it is in my van."

Wajah Tobin berubah. "Ada hard disk cadangan," katanya. "Isinya lengkap. Tapi ada di vanku."

"Where is your van?"

"Di mana vanmu?"

"In the old loading yard behind the car park." Tobin points through the window. "On the far side of the queue."

"Di halaman bongkar muat lama di belakang tempat parkir." Tobin menunjuk lewat jendela. "Di seberang antrean."

Hamza looks at the long line of people. It is two streets long and four people wide in some places. A person can walk along its edge, but the edge is full of chairs, bags and sleeping legs. In the daytime, the walk from the van to the station takes four minutes. Tonight, in the dark, it may take twenty.

Hamza menatap barisan panjang orang-orang itu. Panjangnya dua jalan dan lebarnya empat orang di beberapa tempat. Orang bisa berjalan di tepinya, tetapi tepinya penuh kursi, tas, dan kaki orang yang tertidur. Pada siang hari, berjalan dari van ke stasiun memakan empat menit. Malam ini, dalam gelap, bisa dua puluh menit.

"We have eight minutes," Hamza says.

"Kita punya delapan menit," kata Hamza.

"I know. I will run." Tobin is already pulling on his jacket. "If I run all the way, maybe I can do it in twelve."

"Aku tahu. Aku akan lari." Tobin sudah mengenakan jaketnya. "Kalau aku lari sepanjang jalan, mungkin bisa dua belas menit."

"Then we lose four minutes of airtime."

"Berarti kita kehilangan empat menit siaran."

"Yes. But we only lose the licence if you cannot fill them."

"Ya. Tapi kita hanya kehilangan izin kalau kamu tidak bisa mengisinya."

"Four minutes of me talking," Hamza says. "In the middle of the night. Alone. With nothing to say."

"Empat menit aku bicara sendiri," kata Hamza. "Di tengah malam. Sendirian. Tanpa bahan."

"You will find something."

"Kamu pasti menemukan sesuatu."

Tobin runs. Hamza starts the first song, a slow one. He watches through the window as Tobin jumps over the first sleeping bag. He apologises to a man with a guitar. He hurries past a family with a thermos. Then the crowd grows thicker, and Tobin slows. At the corner, a cluster of tall teenagers blocks the whole pavement. They are asleep on each other's shoulders, and Tobin has to stop, step carefully, and go around.

Tobin berlari. Hamza memulai lagu pertama, yang berirama lambat. Ia memperhatikan lewat jendela saat Tobin melompati kantong tidur pertama. Tobin meminta maaf kepada seorang pria dengan gitar. Ia bergegas melewati keluarga dengan termos. Lalu kerumunan makin padat, dan Tobin melambat. Di tikungan, sekelompok remaja jangkung menghalangi seluruh trotoar. Mereka tertidur saling bersandar di bahu satu sama lain, dan Tobin harus berhenti, melangkah hati-hati, dan memutar.

Hamza's heart sinks. He can see it already. Tobin is moving at the speed of a man in a swimming pool.

Hati Hamza mencelos. Ia sudah bisa membayangkannya. Tobin bergerak dengan kecepatan orang di kolam renang.

The song gets to its last chorus. Hamza reaches for the CD player and starts the second track. Six minutes left. Then five.

Lagu itu sampai di refrain terakhir. Hamza meraih pemutar CD dan memulai lagu kedua. Enam menit lagi. Lalu lima.

Far away, Tobin climbs out of his van with the drive in his hand. Now he must cross the same crowd again.

Jauh di sana, Tobin keluar dari vannya dengan hard disk di tangan. Sekarang ia harus menyeberangi kerumunan yang sama lagi.

He walks to the window and presses his hand against the glass. In the queue, the little radios glow. All those people are listening to the same song as he is. All of them are awake.

Hamza berjalan ke jendela dan menempelkan tangannya ke kaca. Di antrean, radio-radio kecil itu menyala. Semua orang itu mendengarkan lagu yang sama dengannya. Semuanya terjaga.

Then he stops, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

Lalu ia berhenti, dan senyum perlahan merekah di wajahnya.

He turns to the desk. He sits down. He pulls the microphone close and presses a button on the panel.

Ia berbalik ke meja siaran. Ia duduk. Ia menarik mikrofon mendekat dan menekan sebuah tombol di panel.

"Good morning, night owls," he says. "This is Hamza. I have a favour to ask, and I need every one of you for it."

"Selamat pagi, para burung hantu malam," katanya. "Ini Hamza. Aku punya permintaan, dan aku membutuhkan kalian semua."

"Somewhere at the far end of Mercer Street, a man in a jacket is carrying a black box. The box has the whole station inside it. If it does not reach the front door in four minutes, we go silent."

"Di suatu tempat di ujung jauh Jalan Mercer, seorang pria berjaket sedang membawa kotak hitam. Seluruh isi stasiun ada di dalam kotak itu. Kalau kotak itu tidak sampai ke pintu depan dalam empat menit, kita akan hening."

Hamza leans forward. He can feel his pulse in his neck.

Hamza mencondongkan badan ke depan. Ia bisa merasakan denyut nadi di lehernya.

"So here is my idea. You do not need to leave your places. You only need to turn your heads. If you see a black box, take it from the person next to you and pass it forward. Hand to hand. Gently, please. Think of it as a very, very important sandwich."

"Jadi begini idenya. Kalian tidak perlu meninggalkan tempat. Kalian hanya perlu menoleh. Kalau kalian melihat kotak hitam, ambil dari orang di sebelah kalian dan oper ke depan. Dari tangan ke tangan. Pelan-pelan, ya. Anggap saja itu sandwich yang sangat, sangat penting."

Through the window, he watches. For a second, nothing moves. Then the first radio goes down. A girl near the corner stands up and looks along the line. She shouts something that Hamza cannot hear, and the shout runs back along the queue like a wave.

Lewat jendela, ia mengamati. Sesaat tak ada yang bergerak. Lalu radio pertama diturunkan. Seorang gadis di dekat tikungan berdiri dan memandang sepanjang barisan. Ia berteriak sesuatu yang tidak bisa didengar Hamza, dan teriakan itu menjalar ke belakang sepanjang antrean seperti ombak.

Tobin is at the railway bridge now, almost out of breath. He hears the shout and stops. Then he hears the voice of the nearest person, and it is a surprise. "Here," says a woman in a yellow coat, and she holds out both hands. "Give it to me."

Tobin sekarang sudah di jembatan kereta api, hampir kehabisan napas. Ia mendengar teriakan itu dan berhenti. Lalu ia mendengar suara orang terdekat, dan itu mengejutkan. "Sini," kata seorang perempuan bermantel kuning, dan ia mengulurkan kedua tangannya. "Berikan padaku."

Tobin hesitates for half a second. Then he puts the drive into the woman's hands.

Tobin ragu setengah detik. Lalu ia meletakkan hard disk itu di tangan si perempuan.

She holds it above her head and passes it on. The little black box travels faster than any runner. It goes over shoulders and across sleeping bags and under the arms of people who are laughing. It crosses the car park. At the corner, the teenagers wake up, confused, and then they understand and pass it on. The family with the thermos takes it next, and then the man with the guitar. Hamza starts a countdown on the air, and the people in the queue shout the numbers with him.

Perempuan itu mengangkatnya di atas kepala dan mengopernya. Kotak hitam kecil itu melaju lebih cepat daripada pelari mana pun. Ia melewati bahu-bahu dan melintasi kantong tidur dan di bawah lengan orang-orang yang tertawa. Ia menyeberangi tempat parkir. Di tikungan, para remaja terbangun dengan bingung, lalu mengerti dan mengopernya. Keluarga dengan termos menerimanya berikutnya, lalu pria dengan gitar. Hamza memulai hitung mundur di udara, dan orang-orang di antrean meneriakkan angkanya bersamanya.

"Two minutes."

"Dua menit."

"One minute."

"Satu menit."

The record is nearly finished. Hamza reaches for the volume knob, ready to fill the silence with his own voice.

Piringan hitam itu hampir selesai. Hamza meraih tombol volume, siap mengisi kesunyian dengan suaranya sendiri.

Then the studio door opens. The night guard rushes in with the black box held high. It is covered in fingerprints, and a smear of chocolate runs across the front. Tobin comes in a few seconds behind him, breathing hard.

Lalu pintu studio terbuka. Satpam malam menyerbu masuk sambil mengangkat tinggi kotak hitam itu. Kotaknya penuh sidik jari, dan noda cokelat membekas di bagian depannya. Tobin masuk beberapa detik di belakangnya, terengah-engah.

"The queue brought it all the way to the door," the guard says.

"Antreannya membawanya sampai ke pintu," kata satpam itu.

"Plug it in," Hamza says. "Quick."

"Colokkan," kata Hamza. "Cepat."

Tobin plugs it in. A green light blinks, and the next song begins to play. It is the right song. It is exactly the song Hamza picked at midnight. The meters on the desk jump, and the studio fills with sound.

Tobin mencolokkannya. Lampu hijau berkedip, dan lagu berikutnya mulai diputar. Itu lagu yang tepat. Persis lagu yang dipilih Hamza pada tengah malam. Meteran di meja siaran melonjak, dan studio dipenuhi suara.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Through the glass, Hamza hears a long, low roar of cheering from the street. It sounds like four thousand people who have just scored a goal.

Sesaat keduanya tidak berkata apa-apa. Lewat kaca, Hamza mendengar sorak sorai panjang dan rendah dari jalan. Terdengar seperti empat ribu orang yang baru saja mencetak gol.

He leans to the microphone for the last time that night. "Thank you, Mercer Street," he says. "You are the best queue in the world."

Ia mencondongkan badan ke mikrofon untuk terakhir kalinya malam itu. "Terima kasih, Jalan Mercer," katanya. "Kalian antrean terbaik di dunia."

Tobin wipes his hands on his jacket and drops into the chair beside him.

Tobin mengelap tangannya di jaket dan menjatuhkan diri ke kursi di sebelahnya.

"Next time," he says, "I am parking the van at the front door."

"Lain kali," katanya, "aku akan memarkir van tepat di pintu depan."