The Missing Piece at the Top Station

The night shift in the cable-car maintenance room was supposed to be quiet. Zosia and Halima had checked the cables, oiled the wheels, and signed the long form. It was one in the morning, and nothing was left to do.

Giliran malam di ruang perawatan kereta gantung seharusnya tenang. Zosia dan Halima sudah memeriksa kabel, meminyaki roda, dan menandatangani formulir panjang. Saat itu pukul satu dini hari, dan tidak ada lagi yang harus dikerjakan.

That was when Zosia sat down at the jigsaw.

Pada saat itulah Zosia duduk di depan puzzle.

The jigsaw lived on the big steel table in the middle of the room. It was a wooden puzzle of the mountain. It had two thousand pieces and a very blue sky. Eleven different crews had worked on it over four winters. Nobody had ever finished it, because nobody could agree on where the sky pieces went.

Puzzle itu tinggal di meja baja besar di tengah ruangan. Itu puzzle kayu bergambar gunung. Isinya dua ribu keping dan langit yang sangat biru. Sebelas regu berbeda sudah mengerjakannya selama empat musim dingin. Tidak ada yang pernah menyelesaikannya, karena tidak ada yang bisa sepakat soal tempat keping-keping langit.

"There are forty sky pieces left," Zosia said happily. "Forty. I can feel it. Tonight is the night."

"Tinggal empat puluh keping langit," kata Zosia riang. "Empat puluh. Aku bisa merasakannya. Malam ini malamnya."

"You said that last Tuesday," Halima said. She was eating a cold sausage roll and reading the repair log. "And the Tuesday before."

"Kamu bilang begitu Selasa lalu," kata Halima. Ia sedang makan roti sosis dingin sambil membaca catatan perbaikan. "Dan Selasa sebelumnya."

"This time I have a system."

"Kali ini aku punya sistem."

"Your system is to hold each piece up to the light and say 'hmm.'"

"Sistemmu adalah mengangkat setiap keping ke arah cahaya lalu bilang 'hmm'."

"It works for me," Zosia said with great dignity.

"Itu berhasil buatku," kata Zosia dengan penuh wibawa.

They were still arguing about the system at ten past three. Then the door sensor on Cabin Four began to beep. Halima looked up. An orange light was blinking on the control panel, and it did not look like a joke.

Mereka masih berdebat soal sistem itu pada pukul tiga lewat sepuluh. Lalu sensor pintu di Kabin Empat mulai berbunyi. Halima menengadah. Sebuah lampu oranye berkedip di panel kendali, dan tampaknya itu bukan lelucon.

"That is not good," she said.

"Ini tidak bagus," katanya.

They climbed the ladder to the loading platform and found the problem in about a minute. The latch on the cabin door had a small plastic tab, no bigger than a thumbnail. The tab had snapped in half. Without it, the door could not lock, and an unlocked cabin could not carry a single passenger.

Mereka menaiki tangga ke peron pemuatan dan menemukan masalahnya dalam sekitar semenit. Kait pintu kabin punya lidah plastik kecil, tidak lebih besar dari kuku jempol. Lidah itu patah menjadi dua. Tanpanya, pintu tidak bisa terkunci, dan kabin yang tidak terkunci tidak bisa membawa satu penumpang pun.

"The first group of skiers arrives at seven," Halima said. "That is four hours."

"Rombongan pemain ski pertama datang pukul tujuh," kata Halima. "Itu empat jam lagi."

"Do we have a spare tab?"

"Kita punya lidah cadangan?"

Halima checked the shelf. She checked it again, slowly, as if the tab might be shy. "We had one," she said. "I used it in November. I wrote it on the order list. The new ones come on Monday."

Halima memeriksa rak. Ia memeriksanya lagi, pelan-pelan, seakan lidah itu pemalu. "Dulu ada satu," katanya. "Aku memakainya bulan November. Sudah kutulis di daftar pesanan. Yang baru datang hari Senin."

"It is Friday."

"Sekarang hari Jumat."

"I know what day it is, Zosia."

"Aku tahu hari apa ini, Zosia."

Zosia scratched her head. For a moment, the two women looked at the broken latch in silence. A cold wind whistled through the platform and made the empty cabins sway on their cables.

Zosia menggaruk kepalanya. Sesaat, kedua perempuan itu memandang kait yang patah dalam diam. Angin dingin bersiul melewati peron dan membuat kabin-kabin kosong berayun di kabelnya.

"Right," said Zosia. "First attempt. We make a new tab out of something."

"Baik," kata Zosia. "Percobaan pertama. Kita buat lidah baru dari sesuatu."

"Out of what?"

"Dari apa?"

Zosia looked around. She found the jigsaw box lid on the table. It was a thick sheet of cardboard with a picture of the mountain. She cut a neat little tab from the corner. She used the knife that Halima kept for opening boxes. It was the right shape, and it fitted the latch perfectly.

Zosia memandang sekeliling. Ia menemukan tutup kotak puzzle di meja. Itu lembaran kardus tebal bergambar gunung. Ia memotong lidah kecil yang rapi dari sudutnya. Ia memakai pisau yang disimpan Halima untuk membuka kotak. Bentuknya pas, dan cocok sempurna dengan kait itu.

"Genius," said Halima. "I take back what I said about your system."

"Jenius," kata Halima. "Aku menarik kembali ucapanku soal sistemmu."

"I never had a system," Zosia admitted.

"Aku memang tidak pernah punya sistem," Zosia mengaku.

They pushed the cardboard tab into the latch and pulled the door shut. It clicked. The sensor beeped once, in a friendly way, and the orange light turned green. Both women cheered quietly, because it was four in the morning and the mountain was asleep.

Mereka mendorong lidah kardus itu ke dalam kait dan menarik pintu hingga tertutup. Terdengar klik. Sensor berbunyi sekali dengan ramah, dan lampu oranye berubah hijau. Kedua perempuan itu bersorak pelan, karena saat itu pukul empat pagi dan gunung sedang tertidur.

They went down for coffee. Twenty minutes later, the sensor began beeping again.

Mereka turun untuk minum kopi. Dua puluh menit kemudian, sensor mulai berbunyi lagi.

When they got back to the platform, the cardboard tab was lying on the floor. It was a small, sad lump. The latch was cold and wet. A thin line of oil had soaked into the cardboard until it turned soft. It could not hold a door against the wind, let alone twenty skiers with heavy boots.

Ketika mereka kembali ke peron, lidah kardus itu tergeletak di lantai. Bentuknya gumpalan kecil yang menyedihkan. Kaitnya dingin dan basah. Selapis tipis minyak telah meresap ke kardus sampai menjadi lembek. Benda itu tidak bisa menahan pintu melawan angin, apalagi dua puluh pemain ski bersepatu bot berat.

"Oil," Halima said. "Of course there was oil. It is a cable car."

"Minyak," kata Halima. "Tentu saja ada minyak. Ini kereta gantung."

"We should have thought of that."

"Seharusnya kita memikirkannya."

"We should have thought of that in the first place."

"Seharusnya kita memikirkannya sejak awal."

So the first attempt had failed, and they had three hours left. This time, Halima suggested, they would not try to be clever. They would think. What they needed was something small, hard, and shaped like a tab. It should not mind oil or cold, and it should not snap when somebody pulled the door.

Jadi percobaan pertama gagal, dan mereka punya waktu tiga jam lagi. Kali ini, usul Halima, mereka tidak akan mencoba bersikap pintar. Mereka akan berpikir. Yang mereka butuhkan adalah sesuatu yang kecil, keras, dan berbentuk lidah. Benda itu tidak boleh takut minyak atau dingin, dan tidak boleh patah ketika seseorang menarik pintu.

Halima walked back and forth on the platform. Then she stopped, turned around slowly, and looked at her friend.

Halima mondar-mandir di peron. Lalu ia berhenti, berbalik perlahan, dan memandang temannya.

"Zosia," she said. "How do you feel about wood?"

"Zosia," katanya. "Bagaimana pendapatmu soal kayu?"

"I feel fine about wood. Why?"

"Aku tidak keberatan soal kayu. Kenapa?"

"The jigsaw is wood. Real wood, not cardboard. It is thick, and it has a smooth coating. The oil won't soak into it." Halima waited. "And there are plenty of pieces with a little knob on one side."

"Puzzle itu kayu. Kayu sungguhan, bukan kardus. Tebal, dan punya lapisan halus. Minyak tidak akan meresap ke dalamnya." Halima menunggu. "Dan ada banyak keping dengan tonjolan kecil di satu sisinya."

Zosia's face went very pale. "No."

Wajah Zosia menjadi sangat pucat. "Tidak."

"There are two thousand of them."

"Ada dua ribu keping."

"Halima, no. I have forty sky pieces left. Forty. If I give one away, then there will be thirty-nine, and I will never finish. I will be buried with an unfinished jigsaw."

"Halima, tidak. Aku tinggal punya empat puluh keping langit. Empat puluh. Kalau kuberikan satu, jadi tiga puluh sembilan, dan aku tidak akan pernah menyelesaikannya. Aku akan dikubur bersama puzzle yang belum selesai."

"Nobody is going to bury you with a jigsaw," Halima said. "Pick the piece you hate most."

"Tidak ada yang akan menguburmu bersama puzzle," kata Halima. "Pilih keping yang paling kamu benci."

It took Zosia a long time to choose. She stood over the table and held one piece after another up to the light. She said "hmm" in a very small voice. In the end, she chose a sky piece with a bent edge. She had tried it in nineteen different places over three weeks, and it had never once fit.

Zosia butuh waktu lama untuk memilih. Ia berdiri di atas meja dan mengangkat satu keping demi satu ke arah cahaya. Ia berkata "hmm" dengan suara yang sangat kecil. Akhirnya, ia memilih keping langit yang tepinya bengkok. Selama tiga minggu ia sudah mencobanya di sembilan belas tempat berbeda, dan keping itu tidak pernah sekali pun cocok.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

"Selamat tinggal," bisiknya.

"It is a piece of wood," said Halima.

"Itu cuma sepotong kayu," kata Halima.

"It is a piece of my heart."

"Itu sepotong hatiku."

They filed the little knob down with a metal file until it matched the broken tab. Halima held the latch steady. Zosia pressed the piece into the slot with both thumbs, and for a moment, neither of them breathed. The wooden piece slid in smoothly. It was a perfect fit. It looked as if it had been made for the job.

Mereka mengikir tonjolan kecil itu dengan kikir logam sampai sesuai dengan lidah yang patah. Halima menahan kait agar tetap stabil. Zosia menekan keping itu ke dalam celah dengan kedua ibu jari, dan sesaat, tak seorang pun dari mereka bernapas. Keping kayu itu meluncur masuk dengan mulus. Pas sempurna. Kelihatannya seperti dibuat khusus untuk pekerjaan itu.

"Try the door," said Zosia.

"Coba pintunya," kata Zosia.

Halima pulled the cabin door shut. It closed with a firm, solid sound. The light on the panel turned green and stayed green. They stood on the freezing platform for fifteen minutes, waiting for it to fail. It did not.

Halima menarik pintu kabin hingga tertutup. Pintu itu menutup dengan bunyi yang mantap dan kokoh. Lampu di panel berubah hijau dan tetap hijau. Mereka berdiri di peron yang membeku selama lima belas menit, menunggu benda itu gagal. Tidak gagal.

At seven o'clock, the first skiers arrived, loud and cheerful. Cabin Four took them up the mountain without a single problem. Zosia watched it rise into the pink morning light. The little piece of the sky was hidden in its latch.

Pukul tujuh, para pemain ski pertama tiba, riuh dan ceria. Kabin Empat membawa mereka naik gunung tanpa masalah sedikit pun. Zosia memandanginya naik ke dalam cahaya pagi yang merah jambu. Keping kecil dari langit itu tersembunyi di dalam kaitnya.

"Two thousand pieces," she said sadly. "And the only one that fitted anywhere was the one I gave away."

"Dua ribu keping," katanya sedih. "Dan satu-satunya yang cocok di mana pun adalah yang kuberikan."

Halima handed her half of the cold sausage roll. "At least it is up there with the real sky."

Halima menyerahkan separuh roti sosis dingin kepadanya. "Setidaknya ia ada di atas sana bersama langit yang sesungguhnya."

At that moment, high above them, the cabin door closed behind the last passenger.

Pada saat itu, jauh di atas mereka, pintu kabin menutup di belakang penumpang terakhir.

Click.

Klik.