The Light and the Dark (9 page)

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Authors: Mikhail Shishkin

BOOK: The Light and the Dark
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And he left.

He didn’t come to our place when I was there any more after that. And he didn’t answer my letters.

One day I played truant from school. I just decided I wouldn’t go – and I didn’t. I wandered about in the rain, not even noticing that it was pouring from the heavens, the way that cows don’t notice rain.

I was holding his tooth in my fist in my pocket.

The only thing I remember is the smell of a burned rubbish bin that got stuck in my nostrils. And a sugar-coated pair of
newly-weds in the mud-splattered window of a photographer’s shop.

I was chilled to the bone and soaked to the skin. I trudged back home.

I open the door of the apartment and there’s someone’s huge umbrella standing open on the floor.

I catch a familiar scent in the hallway. A long coat, a white scarf and a hat are hanging on the hallstand.

I hear water running in the bathroom.

The bedroom door is open. Mummy glances out with her hair in a mess. Pulling on her Chinese robe with the dragons over her naked body. She asked in fright:

‘Sasha? What’s happened? What are you doing here?’

Today the chief of chiefs and commander of commanders summons me and says:

‘Sit down, write an order.’

I sit down and write:

‘Brothers and sisters! Soldier boys! Contractors, peacekeepers and assassins! The fatherland is disintegrating like blotting paper in the rain! There is nowhere to retreat! Not a single step backwards! Whoah, take a look at that! Did you see the butt she has on her? No, not that one! She’s already turned the corner. Cross that out about the butt. Right, where were we? Ah, yes! Right then. Wigs to be woven into a hairy braid from the centre of the crown of the head and thereafter plaited into a braid woven with a ribbon. No toupees to be worn. All men to arrange their temples in identical fashion, as is presently established in the regiment, to one long
pigeon-wing, but brushed out and backcombed smartly so as not to droop like an icicle, and in frosty weather to be made wider so as to cover the ear. This drill will preserve the men from the idleness that is the source of all soldiers’ wanton antics. Which seems reason enough to keep a soldier practising it constantly. Boots to be of each man’s correct size, neither too broad nor too narrow, such that in frosty weather straw or fibrous material may be inserted into them, nor too short, such as not to chafe the toes in walking, owing to which a soldier on the march often cannot keep pace with the fleet of foot, but to sit straight on the foot. Also to be kept always faultlessly repaired, cleaned and greased and changed daily from one foot to the other so as not to wear out and not to damage the feet during marching and walking. Shaving shall not be neglected. For the slower of wit I explain: the wearing of a beard may connote defeat in hand-to-hand combat, because it is easy to grab hold of it and defeat the enemy. We march out tomorrow. Our road is long. The night is short. The clouds are sleeping. First we shall march through the friendly kingdom of Prester John, whose great might is the talk of the whole world. It says here in the
Evening News
that he defeated Genghis Khan himself in a war of attrition. This terrain is difficult and most savagely savage. I most stringently recommend all gentlemen commanding regiments and battalions to expound and impress on their men that as they pass through the townships, villages and taverns they must not wreak even the slightest devastation. Local inhabitants are to be calmly spared and in no wise offended in order not to harden the hearts of the people and thereby earn the vicious reputation of marauders. Houses are not to be run into, enemies begging for mercy are to be spared, unarmed men are not to be killed, women are not be fought with, minors are not to be touched. To save the bullet, with every shot every soldier must aim at his own enemy, in order to kill him. The blessings of the
heavenly kingdom on those of us who are killed, and to those who live – glory! Fear-mongers and cowards must be eliminated on the spot. Follow me into the attack, hurrah! Press on, press on! Attack! Fix bayonets! Rifles to the fore! Stab, shoot, finish them! Drop them where they stand! We’ll kill, drop, capture the lot of them! Chase, stab! Slash, beat! Hoik, skrike, dreck, doom, hell!’

He broke off to get his breath back, unfastened the button of his collar and walked over to the window. Blotted the sweat off his forehead with the curtain. Took a cigarette case out of his pocket. Tapped a
papyrosa
on the lid. Broke a match on the sodden box. Then another. Lit up with the third. Took a deep drag. Breathed a thick stream of smoke out through the open window frame.

For a brief moment he had the feeling that all this had happened before: this ink-stained youngster who reminded him so much of his own dead son had sat in this room in exactly the same way. With the milk not yet dry on his lips, and women still seeming mysterious. That long-cold teapot with the broken spout had existed before. Everything was exactly the same as then: this wallpaper with the pattern of small red flowers, like a rash – as if it had caught chickenpox from the draught. This bundle of dried fish hanging on the window latch threaded through their eyes. That man who had just walked past, shuffling his feet, with both of his jacket pockets weighed down with bottles. That sign opposite, ‘ARMY STORES’, which someone had altered with mud, so that it read ‘AMY SCORES’. From somewhere round the corner he heard the rattle of a child clattering a stick along a picket fence.

Running his hand over his chin, he heard the stubble rustling. That definitely had happened before – him running his hand over it and it rustling.

He reflected that the secret of déjà vu was probably that in the book of life, of course, all this was only written once. But it came
back to life when someone read a page that had already been read before. And then it all lived again – the stick on the picket fence and the fish that smelled from close up, hanging on the window latch, and the rustling of this stubble and the teapot full of cold, strong tea, and women were still mysterious.

So it was simply that someone was reading these lines at the moment – that was the entire secret of déjà vu.

He flicked his butt out through the window and it went spinning through the air.

He sucked bitter, cold tea out of the broken spout of the teapot. Wiped his lips on his sleeve.

Carried on dictating.

‘In the third place, and perhaps most important of all – do not kill without need. Remember – they are human beings like us. This will be tough, lads. And we’ll have to go a long way, to the ends of the earth. Even further than Alexander the Great went, he only reached the border, where he ordered a marble column to be erected with a line of verse written on it: “I, Alexander, did reach this point”. You don’t believe me? I’ll show you it. The cacti there have prickly pricked-up ears and the people are naked-wise. Alexander the Great was greatly surprised when he saw them and said: “Ask for whatever you wish, I will give it to you!” They replied to him: “Grant us immortality, which we desire more than anything, and we do not need any other riches.” But Alexander said to them: “I am mortal, how can I grant you immortality?” And they said to him: “If you consider yourself mortal, then why do you roam and wander through the whole world, doing so much evil?” See what a smart lot they are. Turn your back for a moment and you’ll get a bullet in the back of your head. First we’ll travel by railway and then by sea. And we’ll know we’ve arrived as soon as we see people with dogs’ heads. And when we carry oars, they’ll ask what kind
of spades we’re carrying. In that place there are also public lupanaria with effeminate men and innumerable other abominations, so always keep your guard up! For us peace is a process, for them it is a result. They believe knowledge is remembrance. Everyone knows his own future, but he still lives his own life. So it turns out that lovers love each other even before they find out about each other, get to know each other and get talking. And they don’t pray for themselves, because we ourselves don’t know what we’re good for. Their gods are simple, but there are as many of them as there are birds, trees, clouds, puddles, sunsets and us. Concerning the existence of other worlds they are doubtful, but consider it madness to assert that apart from the visible nothing else exists for, they say, there is no nonexistence, either in the world or beyond it. They acknowledge two primary physical elements of all earthly things: the sun-father and the earth-mother. They regard the air as a rarefied section of the sky and all fire as deriving from the sun. The sea is the earth’s sweat and a link connecting the air and the earth, as blood connects the body and the spirit in living creatures. The world is an immense living creature and we live in its belly in the same way as worms live in our bellies. However, whether a worm is happy, we do not know, but a man is born, lives and dies happy, only he keeps forgetting this all the time. These naked-wisemen have unscrewed all the nuts off the rails. And not even for sinkers for fishing lines. Blast them for wreckers! The railway lines spoil the feng shui, you see! All these scumbags are to be exterminated mercilessly. Like mad dogs! Wipe the entire pack of these rotten hounds off the face of the earth! Remember, someone has to do the dirty work too. Men! We will avenge ourselves for our comrades and friends in battle, who are still alive, see them there, smiling among us, but very soon now. Most important of all, remember we have truth on our side and they have untruth! But perhaps vice versa.
For is not light the left hand of darkness and darkness the right hand of light? And does the Sun not strive to burn up the Earth, and not at all to generate plants and people? In this life there are no victors, all are the vanquished. Especially since when you stab them with a bayonet, they’ll still think like this: “To be concerned about what will happen to you after death is like asking yourself what will happen to your fist when you open it, or to a leg bent at the knee when you unbend it.” And most important of all, my lads, take good care of yourselves! Don’t fire until the order is given! Do you remember Pythagoras’s hippopotamus? Ah, you scatterbrains! You did it in school! It just flew in one ear and out the other! It’s pointless teaching fools like you anything! The only thing on your mind is skirts. What did Pythagoras teach us? Pythagoras taught us that when your destined time comes to die, as soon as your soul leaves behind the sublunary world and the light of the sun, direct your steps to the left through the sacred meadows and groves of Persephoneia. And when they ask who you are and where you’ve come from, you should reply: “I am a goat kid and I fell in the milk.” Well, now I think that’s all. Ah yes, one more thing. Please don’t spit in the bowl with the general staff clerk’s porridge. Just leave the holy fool in peace, will you! What if he does scribble out death notices with his little pen? Who’s he bothering? He doesn’t want to pray for the tyrant-tsar? Well, who does?’

I’m back from the clinic now and I still can’t pull myself together.

After all, I went to study because I wanted to help give life, but now they’re teaching us curettage.

I actually wanted to be a veterinary surgeon at first, but when I saw that they sterilised dogs simply for people’s convenience, I was so outraged that I left.

Now I’m going to write to you, then sit down to carry on studying. If you only knew all the things we have to take on trust!

Have you ever thought where clothes came from? Just imagine, the reason isn’t the cold or a sense of shame. It’s walking upright! When we stood up on our hind legs, the need arose to cover our sex organs. But not out of shame, oh no – animals don’t have any sense of shame. To show their sex organs and demonstrate preparedness for coupling, monkeys have to assume a special pose. But people are in that pose all the time! They have to do the opposite and cover themselves to signal their unpreparedness!

It really is so off-putting to know that there’s an explanation for everything. For maternal love, for instance. Do you know why it’s stronger in humans? Because in comparison with a little monkey, a child is born so very prematurely. To appear in the world as mature as that, it would have to spend twenty months in the abdomen. That is, to be born as it will only be at the age of one year. So the woman goes on carrying the child – only not inside, but outside. And then there’s no way she can let go of it. The child grows up and the mother keeps clinging to it, she can’t part with it.

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