The office thermometer read 12 below zero. That was the indoor temperature. Outside it was 41 below. Frost had crusted the office window, maybe 2 centimeters thick. Scrape it with a finger and ice powder fell away. Through the frost you could see the apartment parking lot. The cars were buried in snow. Cars that hadn't moved in 3 weeks. The cold snap had come 3 weeks ago. The Arctic jet stream had collapsed, the news said. The day that broadcast aired, the power grid went down. The gas lines had already been cut before that. All of Seoul ground to a halt. Snow piled on snow until you couldn't tell a car from a mound of it.
Dongho spread a sheet of paper across the office desk. The floor plan of the building. 32 floors. 4 units per floor. 128 units. Currently occupied: 87. The other 41 stood empty. The people who had left Seoul. The ones who had gone south. There were rumors the south was 20 below too, but it beat this. The highways were frozen solid, impassable. Only 4-wheel-drive diesel vehicles still moved. Everything else sat frozen in the lot.
Dongho marked the floor plan with red dots. One for each occupied unit. 87 red dots. 214 people in all. Among them 12 infants and toddlers. 31 elderly, over 70. Dongho wrote the numbers in the corner of the page. The pencil was so cold his fingers ached, even through his gloves.
The door opened. Cold air poured in. The floor representative from 32 came in, a blanket wrapped over his padded coat, his face frozen red. He'd walked down from the 32nd floor to the ground-floor office. The elevator had stopped 5 days ago. Along with the power.
"Cold in here too, huh."
"Didn't run the boiler. Saving the diesel."
"How much diesel's left?"
"480 liters."
"And what can you do with 480 liters?"
"Run one boiler to heat one floor, and it lasts 4 days."
The rep from 32 pulled the blanket tighter.
"One floor."
"One floor."
The representatives arrived one by one. People who had walked down the stairs. The higher the floor they'd come from, the redder the face, the harder the breathing. The ones from above the 20th floor breathed out especially white. The higher up, the colder it got. Heat sank; cold air rose. The rep from 28 came in gasping. Bad knees. He rubbed them as he lowered himself into an office chair.
"Walked down from 28 to the ground floor and my knees are shot. 560 steps."
"You counted?"
"Counted the whole way down. Otherwise you go crazy."
"Going up is worse."
"I don't want to go back up, so let's make this quick."
There was a thermos on the office table. Water Dongho had boiled that morning. It would be lukewarm now. He poured it into paper cups and passed them around. The lukewarm water slid down the throat. Its warmth reached the stomach.
The office had only 8 chairs. The rest stood. The ones standing stamped their feet. The floor was cold. White breath came from their mouths. 32 people had gathered in the office. Only representatives from the floors where people still lived, the empty ones excluded. 26 in all. The 6 empty floors had no representative. The water pipes in the vacant units had already frozen and burst. The water had expanded as it froze and split the pipes. When spring came the repair bills would be staggering. If spring came.
Dongho stood up. He was a maintenance office worker. He'd worked in this building for 12 years. He lived alone, in a small room beside the office. No family. Boiler repairs, elevator inspections, parking. Right now he could do none of it. The only thing he could do was run the meeting.
"If everyone's here, we'll begin."
"Hold on. What about 3?"
"The Kim family on 3 left for the south yesterday."
"Left? In this weather?"
"Said they had a car. A diesel."
"If they had diesel they should've given it to us."
"Why would anyone hand over the diesel in their own car?"
A laugh went around. A small one. It felt like the temperature in the office rose about 0.1 degrees.
Dongho began to explain.
"Let me lay out the situation. 480 liters of diesel. 1 boiler. Run the boiler and we can heat 1 floor only. That's 4 days' worth. According to the Korea Meteorological Administration forecast, the cold snap breaks in 5 days. They said it'll climb to 10 below."
"4 days' worth but the snap lasts 5 — that leaves us a day short."
"Correct. So if we lower the heating from 18 degrees to 15, we can stretch it to 5 days."
"15's a little cold."
"Better than 12 below."
"Can't argue with that."
Dongho held up the floor plan.
"We'll decide by vote. We pick 1 floor to receive heat. The heated floor covers 264 square meters. Figuring a minimum of 1.2 square meters per person, the maximum capacity is 220."
"Wait. There's 214 of us total, so everyone fits?"
"In theory, yes."
"Then what's the problem?"
"The belongings."
"Belongings?"
"If it's just bodies, 220 fit. But once people bring blankets, food, water, necessities, the space shrinks. Realistically it's 120, maybe 130."
"That's half."
"Yes. Half. The other half will have to hunker down under blankets in their own homes."
The office went quiet. Only white breath rose. The breathing of 26 people filled the room. Dongho felt the temperature of that silence. It was a silence colder than 12 below.
The representative from the 15th floor spoke first. He'd lived in the building longer than anyone—23 years since he moved in. He'd been there since the place first opened. His voice was thick. At every meeting, his was the first voice you heard.
"Which floor are we going with?"
"We decide by vote."
"Before we vote, let me ask one thing. How do we decide who gets in and who's left outside?"
"That's for this meeting to decide too."
"The kids first, no? The children should go in first."
The 7th-floor rep said it. There were 3 small children on the 7th floor. His floor's kids.
"The elderly too."
The 22nd-floor rep said it. An elderly couple in their 80s lived on the 22nd floor.
"You're all right. But if we put the 12 children and 31 elderly in first, that's 43. The remaining spots come to around 80. Out of 214 people, we have to pick 80 from the other 171."
"And on what basis do we pick?"
"That's what we're deciding right now."
"God, my head hurts."
The 23rd-floor rep raised his hand. Bald, wearing a black padded coat. His glasses were fogging over. The fog came from the management office being warmer than outside.
"I've got a proposal."
"Go ahead."
"Priority to whoever's paid their maintenance fees in full."
The office rustled with murmurs.
"What do the maintenance fees have to do with anything right now?"
"Everything. The diesel was bought with maintenance fees. It makes no sense for someone who didn't pay to get heated by that diesel."
"By that logic, whoever paid the most gets priority?"
"So you're saying the ones behind on payments get dropped?"
"How many households are behind, anyway? I'm behind."
The 9th-floor rep, sitting beside him, said it.
"Me too."
The 11th-floor rep said it as well.
Dongho checked. He rifled through the paperwork. His fingers trembled. Whether from the cold or the nerves, he couldn't tell.
"There are 14 households more than 3 months in arrears on maintenance fees."
"14 households is how many people?"
"38 people."
"Take out 38 and you've got 176. Take out the 43 children and elderly and it's 133. That just about fits the 130 spots."
"Wait, wait, wait."
Dongho raised his hand. Everyone looked at him.
"I'm 3 months in arrears on my maintenance fees."
The office went quiet. Then laughter broke out.
"The management office staff is behind on his maintenance fees?"
"Because I haven't been paid in 3 months. I fixed the boiler with my own money too. 170,000 won for parts."
"But your salary comes out of the maintenance fees."
"The fees don't get collected, so no salary comes out, and because no salary comes out, I can't pay the fees."
"A Möbius strip of maintenance fees."
The laughter grew louder. Dongho laughed too. When he laughed, more white breath rose up. The office was like the inside of a cloud.
"Let's be serious."
The 15th-floor rep said it. The laughter stopped.
"Maintenance fees can't be the standard. You can't divide survival by money."
"Then divide it by what?"
"A draw."
"A draw?"
"It's fair, isn't it. Put the children and elderly in first, and the rest draw lots."
"Leave it to luck? This isn't a game of chance."
"You have another standard? Age? Health? Occupation? Whatever you choose, somebody's unhappy."
"A draw is fair, I'll grant you that."
"But what about the ones who lose the draw? Ride out 5 days at 41 below?"
"Wrap up in blankets and stay still and you can hold out 48 hours before hypothermia."
"How would you know that?"
"Saw it on the internet."
"The internet works?"
"No. I saw it before it cut out."
Dongho looked at their faces. They were laughing, but their eyes weren't. Everyone was running the same calculation. 130 spots. 214 people. 84 left outside. To be left outside meant riding out 5 days at 41 below with nothing but a blanket. Was that possible? Dongho didn't know.
"May I offer my opinion?"
Dongho said. The reps looked at him.
"I'm not a representative, just the management office staff. But I'm the one who has to run the boiler."
"Speak."
"I'd suggest we make the 1st floor the heated floor."
"Why?"
"The 1st floor is closest to the underground storage. It's easy to carry the diesel, and the boiler connection is the shortest. And the 1st floor is easy to get in and out of, so people can come and go."
"The 1st-floor rep will be all for it, then."
The 1st-floor rep nodded. Naturally.
"But if it's the 1st floor, that's right in front of my place. Do I have to leave my door open?"
"We only use the common areas. The hallway and the lobby."
"130 people lying down in the hallway?"
"It's in shifts, I told you. 71 at a time."
"What about the other floors?"
"The 1st floor does make sense."
"The problem is hauling your things down from the high floors."
"Walk down from the 32nd floor to the 1st carrying a blanket?"
"Once you come down, you won't want to go back up."
"No reason to go up. You just stay on the 1st floor for the 5 days."
"The floor's the 1st, then. Let's settle the numbers."
Dongho said.
"12 children. 31 elderly. Priority admission. Around 60 including guardians. That leaves 70 spots."
"70 out of 154."
"Not even half."
"Let's do a draw."
"I'm against a draw. It has to be by family. What if the draw picks only the father and the mother's out?"
"A draw by family unit, then."
"But that favors the bigger households."
"So a draw per person?"
"Per person and families get split up."
"Whatever we do, there's a problem."
A long silence fell. People stamped their feet against the cold. Then the representative from the 27th floor spoke quietly. He had taken off his glasses and was wiping the fog from them.
"What about night shifts?"
"Night shifts?"
"Instead of 130 people staying for 24 hours straight. 130 in the daytime, 130 at night. We rotate in. 12 hours each."
"That way 260 people could take turns using it."
"And there are 214 of us, so we can fit everyone."
"12 hours of heat, 12 hours under a blanket in your own place. That's bearable, isn't it?"
"Not bad, actually."
"But 12 hours at 41 below—isn't that a bit long?"
"What about 8?"
"8 hours means three shifts. Split 214 into three groups, that's 71 a group. Plenty of room."
"So you'd have to come out and go in right on the shift change?"
"Right. When your time's up you come out, the next group goes in."
"Don't we have to factor in bathroom breaks too?"
"8 hours of heat, 16 hours of cold. How do you survive 16 hours?"
"Blankets and hand warmers."
"Any hand warmers left?"
"Should be some at the convenience store."
"The convenience store's closed too."
"You just take them from the closed store."
"Isn't that stealing?"
"It's an emergency."
"So in an emergency stealing's fine?"
"We're trying to stay alive."
"The store owner's out there somewhere trying to stay alive too."
"Well, that's true."
Dongho worked the numbers on a piece of paper. The pencil scratched across it. Three shifts. 8 hours. 71 to a group. Boiler running 24 hours. Diesel consumption: 96 liters a day. 480 liters, that's 5 days. It came out exactly. The margin was 0. A 0-liter margin. Dongho checked the number twice.
"It works. Three shifts of 8 hours, the diesel lasts 5 days."
"Everyone gets in?"
"Yes. All 214."
For a moment a breath of relief went around the management office.
"But."
The representative from the 15th floor spoke.
"How do we decide the shift order? The first group has it best. They get warm right away."
"A draw."
"Another draw. How many draws are we doing today?"
"It's fair."
"The last group has to wait 8 more hours, though."
"16. If the first group goes in now, the third group is 16 hours out."
"16 hours at 41 below."
"With a blanket over you."
"A blanket at 41 below for 16 hours—you could get hypothermia."
Dongho thought. His head ached. He couldn't tell if it was the cold or the arithmetic.
"What if we did it like this."
"Go on."
"We make the first group the one with the children and the elderly. Not because they're weak—because they take longer to move, so they settle in first. Second and third groups by draw."
"And if the first group runs over?"
"12 children. 31 elderly. Add the guardians and it's around 60. Well within the cap of 71."
"Split the remaining 154 into two, 77 each."
"Do 77 fit on the ground floor?"
"They fit. If we cut down on baggage."
"How much do we have to cut?"
"About one backpack per person."
"Good. Then let's vote."
The representative from the 15th floor spoke.
"Motion: heat the ground floor, three shifts of 8 hours, first group priority to infants and the elderly. If you're in favor, raise your hand."
Hands went up. Dongho counted. 23.
"Against?"
2.
"Abstaining?"
1.
"Passed, 23 to 2."
Dongho wrote the result on the paper. His hand shook. He couldn't tell if it was the cold or the relief.
One of the 2 against was the 4th-floor representative.
"Why'd you vote no?"
"I live on the ground floor. If the ground floor's the heated floor, 130 people come into my place. 130 people using my bathroom."
"It's an emergency."
"I get that it's an emergency, but whether my toilet can handle 130 people—that's the emergency."
Laughter broke out. This time it was a big laugh. The 4th-floor representative laughed too. The frost on the management office window seemed to tremble faintly with the vibration of the laughter.
The other vote against was the 17th-floor representative.
"Why'd you vote no?"
"I didn't mean to. I was supposed to hit abstain and hit the wrong one."
"Let's take this seriously."
"My hands are shaking from the cold."
Dongho looked at his watch. 8:14 in the evening. Two hours had passed since the meeting began. The temperature in the management office had dropped to 14 below. It felt colder than that. People's noses were red, their lips blue.
"Let's start right now. I'll fire up the boiler."
"Thank you, Dongho."
"I'll pay the maintenance fee later."
More laughter.
Dongho left the management office and went down to the basement storeroom. The stairwell was dark. He switched on his flashlight. Four diesel drums came into view. Four 120-liter drums. 480 liters. 5 days' worth. Dongho opened the valve on the first drum. Diesel ran down the pipe to the boiler. Dongho threw the boiler switch. A low hum rose. The boiler turned over. It was the first mechanical sound he'd heard in 3 weeks. Dongho stood there a moment, listening. He put his hand to the wall of the basement storeroom. It was the wall the pipe ran through. He felt a faint vibration. Diesel was flowing inside the pipe. It was a warm sound.
He went up to the ground floor. The ground-floor corridor was already turning lukewarm. He put his hand to the floor. Warmth was rising through it. Dongho's hand grew warm. He kept his right hand against the floor. He tried his left hand too. Warmth rose into both hands. The feeling came back into his fingers. It was a feeling he'd forgotten for over 2 hours.
The first group started down. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Thud. Thud, thud. The stairwell echoed. The footsteps drew closer. Someone carrying a child. Someone supporting an old man. Someone with a bundle of bedding on their back. The first-floor corridor filled with people. Someone sat down on the floor and said, "The floor's warm." Somewhere a child was crying. The wailing rang through the corridor. Set down on the first-floor floor, the child stopped crying. The child pressed a hand to the floor. A small palm spread out across it. The child's eyes went wide. Maybe it was the warmth of the floor, or maybe the body heat of all the gathered people. Dongho stood at the end of the corridor and watched them. 71 people, the first group. Someone spreading out bedding and lying down, someone sitting propped against the wall, someone feeding a child milk. The corridor was narrow, but warm.
Dongho took the paper from his pocket. The 3-shift roster. First group, second group, third group. The second group changed over tomorrow at 4:14 a.m. The third group at 12:14 tomorrow afternoon. Dongho checked the names on the roster one more time. 214 people. Making sure no one was left out. The twins from the 7th floor were written down. The couple in their 80s from the 22nd floor too. Dongho's own name was there too, at the very bottom of the third group. Dongho taped the roster to the wall. The tape was cold and wouldn't stick well. He pressed it 3 times to make it hold.
Dongho sat down in a corner of the first-floor lobby. He leaned his back against the wall. The wall was lukewarm. The boiler's heat was rising up through it. Dongho closed his eyes. It was the first warm wall in 3 weeks. Dongho was in the third group. The management-office worker behind on his own maintenance fees had decided, by himself, that third was where he belonged. In 16 hours he would come back to this spot. For now he was listening to the sound of the boiler running. Hmmm. A steady sound. The sound of 480 liters of diesel turning into heat. Dongho slid his hand into his pocket. He felt paper. The maintenance-fee bill. 3 months' worth. Dongho didn't take the bill out. Inside the pocket he folded the paper. Small. Smaller. He felt the paper's corner against his fingertip. Outside he could hear the wind. Wind at 41 below zero. But the wall was warm, the boiler was running, and 480 liters was still enough. The first 8 hours had begun. The other 143 people had gone back to their own floors. They would wait under their bedding. Until the changeover. Dongho had to get up too. He had to go back to the cramped room off the management office and pull the covers over himself. For 16 hours. Dongho lifted his back off the wall. The warmth left his back. 30 meters to the little room off the management office. He walked the corridor. His feet were cold. The sound of the boiler grew fainter. He opened the door of the small room. There was bedding. The bedding was cold. When he got inside it, his body curled in on itself. It would take time for his body heat to warm the covers. Dongho lay down under the bedding. He could see the ceiling. A dark ceiling. From somewhere the boiler was faintly audible. Hmmm. The sound of 480 liters turning into heat. Dongho touched the maintenance-fee bill in his pocket. The paper folded small. 3 months' worth. Dongho closed his eyes. In 16 hours he would be warm. Dongho moved his fingers inside the bedding. He still had feeling in them. Beyond the wall the boiler's sound carried on, faint. Dongho counted that sound, and fell asleep.
