Untrodden paths

Kazakhstan. Judging by his raving accounts, he seems to know both, but when you start asking about his background, his ravings become too kaleidoscopic to figure out anything. Well, in any case the local shrinks diagnosed him as a friendly, non-violent type who could be kept in our asylum. So, we’ve got to put up with this Winnie the Pooh.

Andrei, with a laugh: He looks like a bear, all right. And I suspect has got his strength, too.

Bachkov: Frankly, boys, it’s none of my business who the hell he is. He plays his part and I play mine. I’ve seen enough to mind my own business, and not to nose in somebody else’s.

Departing, to Andrei: Get your dosage after breakfast and you may enjoy yourself in the garden till dinnertime.

Scene in the yard – Dialectics

Sound of chirping birds.

Out in the yard, Andrei notices a young man stripped to the waist working out with a dumb-bell not far from the porch. He approaches him and asks: Twenty?

Tsvetochkin: What?

Andrei: Twenty kilos?

Tsvetochkin: Yep.

Andrei: Do they allow it?

Tsvetochkin put the dumb-bell on the ground: Of course, not, well, not officially, anyway. The boys brought it so we could exercise on the sly. We hide it in the lilac bushes afterwards. Want to try?

Andrei: Sure.

Tsvetochkin commenting on Andrei’s vigorous jerks: Well, boy, you are in good shape. Unfortunately, I can’t use full force, my ribs are still aching.

Andrei: Why?

Tsvetochkin: Cops broke three of my ribs.

Andrei: Did you get here in the festival sweep too?

Tsvetochkin: No, I had problems with our local police inspector.

Andrei: Where are you from?

Tsvetochkin: Do you know the 37th kilometer commune?

Andrei: Yes.

Tsvetochkin proudly: Have you ever heard the name of Tsvetochkin?

Andrei: Harry Tsvetochkin?

Tsvetochkin: Yes.

Andrei: Never heard it, but I did see it. This name is sprayed in large letters on a wall of a shed near the railroad. Whenever I go by in a commuter train I see: Harry Tsvetochkin. Did you spray it?

Tsvetochkin: No. Boys did it. You see we used to work out there with the dumb-bells. As I proved to be the local strongman, the boys sprayed my name in red letters on the wall.

Andrei: And what was the problem with your local inspector?

Tsvetochkin: Well, his daughter began frequenting our shed.

Andrei with a laugh: Got interested in the sport too?

Tsvetochkin: Yes, if you call sex a sport. Her daddy tried to disband us a couple of times, and threatened to tear off my head and everything beneath. I told him to bugger off because no one was dragging his precious babe there by force. Well, a week later they picked me up at my work place, put in a car and drove to the police department for what they call «questioning».

Somebody had stolen the wheels off somebody’s car, so they said it was me, and punched me in the teeth to facilitate, as they put it, a «Gorbachev’s consensus» – to make me confess, I mean. I countered the bastard who hit me with my right, in the teeth too. He went down like a log, hitting the keys with the back of his head, they had the keys stuck in their safe. Well, in short, he got his head fractured and the whole mob went mad and started punching and kicking me, breaking three of my ribs, then they threw me in solitary where I developed lung edema, and the pleura became detached from the beating.

Well, they got scared I would die on their hands, so they offered me money: Take it, they said, and keep your mouth shut, or else; we’ll take you to a hospital as a mugging victim we picked up in the street.

Andrei: So what did you do?

Tsvetochkin: Refused, of course. I won’t look at this scum, much less make deals with them. Too bad I didn’t kill that bastard.

Andrei: Well, I’m afraid you’re too harsh on them. They didn’t cheat you with the hospital, anyway. They mistook emergency for psychiatry, though; but you can’t expect police to know who treats heads and who treats, say, asses.

Tsvetochkin smiles: How can they, indeed, if you can’t tell their heads from their asses?

Andrei: How did you survive, incidentally? Lung edema is a serious thing. Did they treat you here?

Tsvetochkin: They did, with aminazine, just like everyone here. I survived because I heal easily like a dog.

Andrei: I see; I’m pretty much a survivor too. Where shall I put this dumb-bell?

Tsvetochkin: Over there, in the bushes behind the bench. Would you like to play chess or dominos?