The brotherhood was growing.
By the winter of 1959 there were 118 of us in Russia.
The stormy 1960s arrived.
Time sped up.
New possibilities arose, new perspectives opened.
Our people began to move up in their jobs, to occupy important positions. The brotherhood again infiltrated the Soviet elite, but this time from below. We had three new brothers in the Council of Ministers and one in the Central Committee of the Communist Party. Sister Chbe became the culture minister of Latvia, brothers Ent and Bo held leadership positions in the Ministry of Foreign Trade, sister Ug married the commander of PVO troops, brother Ne became director of the Malyi Theater.
And most important — brothers Aub, Nom, and Mir organized a scientific society for the study of TMP: the Tungus Meteorite Phenomenon. It was supported by the Academy of Sciences and subsisted on government money. Expeditions were sent out to the site of the fall almost every year.
Chunks of Ice again flowed to Moscow.
We were working.
In the 1970s the brotherhood increased in strength.
Our newly acquired brother Lech became the director of Comecon. The most extraordinary thing was that his daughter turned out to be one of us, as did his grandson. This was the first time that we had a living family. Lech, Mart, and Bork became the bulwark of the brotherhood in the Soviet nomenklatura. Comecon began to work for us. Thanks to Lech we established close contacts with our people in Eastern Europe. We began to supply Ice to them directly, bypassing the complex, conspiratorial channels Kha created under Stalin.
I took a small management position in Comecon.
This allowed me to travel often to other Socialist countries. I saw the faces of our European brothers. I came to know their hearts. Speaking in different earthly languages, we understood one another perfectly.
We knew WHAT to do and HOW to do it.
The brotherhood grew.
In 1980 there were 718 of us in Russia.
And worldwide — there were 2,405.
The 1980s brought a great deal of fuss and difficulty.
Brezhnev died. Russia’s traditional redistribution of power began. Four of our people lost important positions in the Central Committee and the Council of Ministers. Three from Gosplan were demoted. Brother Yot, a well-known functionary of the All-Union Central Soviet of Trade Unions, was kicked out of the Party for “protectionism” (he promoted our people into the leadership of the union too actively). Two brothers from Vneshtorg fell during the campaign against corruption and were given long sentences. Sisters Fed and Ku lost their jobs in the Central Committee of the Komsomol for “amoral behavior” (they were caught during a heart conversation). And Shro, my loyal and decisive follower, was sentenced for assault with physical injury (one of the people we hammered ran away and denounced him).
But Lech survived.
And two of us, Uy and Im, became colonels in the KGB.
Ice was extracted and exported to twenty-eight countries.
And the Ice hammers struck hearts once again.
Andropov and Chernenko died.
Gorbachev came to power.
The era of glasnost and perestroika began.
The USSR began to disintegrate. Comecon was disbanded. And Lech died almost immediately after that. This was a huge loss for us. Our hearts said ardent farewells to the great Lech. He had done so much for the brotherhood.
The Party lost more and more power in the country. Panic began to overtake the loyal echelons of power: the Soviet nomenklatura recognized a mortal danger in the impending democratization, but could do nothing.
Private enterprise appeared. The smartest representatives of the nomenklatura began to move into business. Using their old connections, they quickly made a lot of money.
OUR PEOPLE were also able to reorient themselves quickly. It was decided to establish commercial firms, banks, and stock companies.
In August 1991 the USSR fell apart.
By an irony of fate, one day three brothers and I found ourselves on Lubianskaya Square and observed the monument to Dzerzhinsky being dismantled. When it was tied with steel cables and lifted into the air, I remembered my arrest, my refrigerator cell, the interrogations, the amber serpent, the evil faces and dead hearts of the investigators.
The dismantling of the monument was directed by a blond fellow wearing a tank-division helmet. He had blue eyes. We got to know each other, and a few hours later, in a specially equipped cellar, we hammered Sergei. And his heart spoke his true name: Dor.
Thus, Dzerzhinsky helped us to find one of our brothers.
The rapid-fire 1990s took off.
The cheerful and frightening era of Yeltsin began.
For the brotherhood it was a golden time. We managed to do what we had dreamed of: we secured positions in the power structure, established mighty financial structures, and founded a number of joint ventures.
But the main success of the brotherhood was that our brothers infiltrated the highest echelons of power.
In two years, brother Uf, whom we acquired at the end of the 1970s in Leningrad, had managed a meteoric career: from being a docent of the Engineering Economics Institute he became a vice premier in the Russian government. He directed the economic reforms and privatization of state property. The sale of hundreds of plants and factories passed through Uf’s hands. In the first half of the 1990s he was, for all intents and purposes, the owner of Russia’s real estate.
It is impossible to overestimate his contribution to the brotherhood’s quest. Thanks to the redheaded Uf we attained genuine economic freedom. The issue of money was solved for us forever. And on the planet of meat machines money moved everything.
I blessed him. Our strawberry-blond Uf.
His small but inexhaustible heart often spoke with mine.
Uf headed a radical wing of the brotherhood. The radicals tried to increase the number of brothers by any means possible in order to live to see the Great Transformation.
Unlike them, we in the mainstream were not so egotistical, and we worked for future generations.
But Uf, with his great economic burst, brought the future closer: by January 1, 2000, there were 18,610 of US in the entire world.
And for the first time I believed that I would LIVE TO SEE IT!
We celebrated the New Year in a small circle at Uf’s country home. This was the only acceptable holiday for us of all the meat machine’s holidays: after all, each new year brought the hour of the Great Transformation closer.
After a short heart conversation we sat on a rug around a mountain of fruits and ate in silence. For the most part, we tried not to speak in the language of the meat machines.
And suddenly Uf froze with a plum in his hand. His blue-gray eyes squinted, his small, stubborn mouth opened.
“One year and eight months from now, we will become Rays of Light!”
I froze. The others did too.
Uf looked around at us with a piercing gaze. He added decisively: “I know!”
Suddenly his eyes grew moist, his lips trembled, the plum fell from his fingers. Tears flowed down his cheeks.
I ran to him, and embraced him.
Drenched in tears, I began to kiss his freckled hands.
I awoke, as usual, in the morning.
From the gentle touch of sister Tbo. Her hands were stroking my face.
Suddenly I remembered: today was a special day. A day of Greeting.
I opened my eyes: I saw my spacious bedroom with tender blue walls and a golden ceiling, Tbo’s blue-eyed face, her soft hands. Gentle music sounded. Tbo pulled the blanket off me. I turned on my stomach. The sister’s hands began to massage my no-longer-young body. Brothers Mef and Por entered silently. Waiting until the massage was over, they lifted me and carried me to the bathroom. There they helped me to empty my intestines and bladder. Then they lowered me into a bath of frothing cow milk. After about ten minutes they took me out, washed off the milk, and rubbed my chest wi
th sesame butter, placed a mask of sperm from young meat machines on my face. Sister Vikha arranged my hair and put on my makeup. I moved into the dressing room where Vikha helped me to choose a dress for today.
I always dress in blue for special days. I chose a dress of restrained blue crêpe de chine, a little pillbox hat of blue silk with a blue veil, blue patent-leather boots, and bracelets of turquoise.
They took me into the dining room.
It was a large half circle, decorated in the same golden-blue tones. White roses and lilies stood in four gold vases. Outside the wide windows was a green fir forest.
Presiding over the table set with a gold service, I reached out my hands. Mef and Por immediately wrapped them in warm, moist napkins. Brother Rak served a dish of tropical fruits. One of my six secretaries entered — brother Ga. He began reading the updates.
Listening to him, I ate leisurely.
He finished reading and left.
Having finished my meal, I stretched out my hands again. Once again, two moist napkins carefully wiped them.
They carried me into the hall for heart conversation. It was round, without windows. The walls of the hall were fashioned of blue jasper.
Three naked brothers kneeled in the center of the hall. I lowered myself to my knees next to them. Their arms embraced me.
Our hearts began to speak.
I taught them the words.
But not for long: our embrace ended with a sweet moan, and I was carried into the room of rest.
A quiet room, with soft, golden-blue furniture, it was imbued with Eastern aromas. While I lay in a soft armchair, my hands were massaged. Then I drank tea made of herbs from the Altai.
My secretary entered.
I understood: it was time.
They carried me out of the house. My dark blue bulletproof automobile and two guard vehicles waited in front of the marble porch. It was sunny and there was a springlike freshness in the air. The last bits of snow had retreated, green grass was pushing up on the lawns. A woodpecker tapped on a dry branch. The gardener Eb was restoring a pyramid in the stone garden. A guard with a machine gun strolled by the gates.
They put me in the car.
We drove into Moscow.
The heavy limousine traveled silently, rocking me softly. I looked out the window. I loved the environs of Moscow, that extraordinary combination of wild nature and wild habitation. Here earthly life seemed less horrid to me. The road ran through massive stretches of forest, and among the trees one glimpsed the silhouettes of dachas, the same as forty years earlier. In the Moscow suburbs nothing had changed since Stalin’s time. The fences had simply grown higher and richer.
Moscow, on the other hand, was completely different. It had spread out. There was too much of it.
We drove along the Rublev Highway past white prefab buildings. Meat machines think them ugly, preferring houses built of brick. But what is a human house, in fact? A terrifyingly limited space. The incarnation in stone, iron, and glass of the desire to hide from the Cosmos. A coffin. Into which man falls, from his mother’s womb.
They all begin their lives in coffins. For they are dead from birth.
I looked at the windows of the prefab building: thousands of identical little coffins.
And in each one a family of meat machines prepared for death.
What happiness that WE are different.
Driving along Mosfilmovskaya Street, the limousine turned toward Sparrow Hills. As always, it was empty and wide open. Only Moscow University rose as a monument to the Stalinist era.
After a few smooth turns, we drove up to our rehabilitation clinic. It was built five years ago. Newly acquired brothers and sisters lay in it. Here we healed their wounds from the Ice hammers.
Sister Kharo rolled a wheelchair up to my car. I was helped to sit in it and rolled into the clinic. In the hallways I was greeted by the experienced sisters Mair and Irey. I greeted their hearts with a flare.
“They are ready,” Mair informed me.
They took me into the ward.
There, on a large white bed, lay three newly acquired hearts. They were exhausted by the crying that had shaken them for an entire week.
My heart began cautiously to pluck at these three awakened hearts.
In a half a minute I knew everything about them.
When they awoke, I spoke to them.
“Ural, Diar, Mokho. I am Khram. I welcome you. Your hearts wept for seven days. This weeping is in grief and shame for your previous dead life. Now your hearts are cleansed. They will no longer sob. They are ready to love and speak. Now my heart will speak the first word of the most important language to your hearts. The language of the heart.”
The three newly acquired looked at me.
And my heart began to speak with them.
Part III
INSTRUCTIONS FOR USING THE ICE
HEALTH IMPROVEMENT SYSTEM
1. Unpack the box.
2. Remove the video helmet, breast plate, mini freezer, computer, and connection cords from the box.
3. Plug the mini freezer into an electrical outlet immediately in order to keep the ICE it contains from melting. Remember that the battery is capable of maintaining the necessary temperature in the mini freezer for no more than seventy-two hours!
4. Familiarize yourself with the counter-indications; when you are certain that the ICE Health Improvement System is not counter- indicated for you, find a quiet, secluded room and lock the door so that no one will disturb you during the session. Bare the upper part of your body, put on the breastplate, and fasten the belts on your back and shoulders. The mechanical striking arm should be positioned to strike exactly in the center of your breastbone. Open the mini freezer; remove one of the twenty-three ICE segments provided. Remove the ICE from the plastic packaging and place it in the striking-arm socket, securing it with the socket latch. Connect the cords to the ICE system. Insert the plug of the computer adapter into an electrical outlet. Sit down in a comfortable position. Relax. Try not to think of extraneous things. Hold the directional controls in your right hand. Press the ON button. When you are certain that the mechanical arm is positioned so that the ICE will strike precisely in the center of your breastbone, put the video helmet on your head. The ICE Health Improvement System session lasts from two to three hours. If you experience any discomfort during the session, press the OFF button, which can be distinguished from the ON button by its rough surface.
5. When the session is over, remove the video helmet and the breastplate and disconnect the system from the electrical source. Assume a horizontal position; try to relax and think about eternity. After regaining your calm, get up, detach the tear-aspirators from the helmet, wash them in warm water, wipe them dry, and reinsert them into the video helmet.
Counter-Indications
The ICE Health Improvement System is categorically counter- indicated for individuals with cardiovascular disease, nervous system disorders, or psychiatric conditions; pregnant women, nursing mothers, alcoholics, drug addicts, war invalids, and children under the age of eighteen.
Warnings
1. We do not recommend more than two sessions in a twenty-four-hour period.
2. If you experience discomfort after the session, contact ICE. Our doctors and technicians will provide you with the necessary recommendations. Remember that the Health Improvement System is intended for individual application only.
3. If you interrupt the session, remove the unused ICE from the striking arm completely. In order to continue the session you will have to insert a new ICE segment.
4. Do not expose the equipment to the effects of direct sunlight, humidity, and low temperatures.
Additional ICE to restock your mini freezer may be obtained from authorized ICE dealerships.
COMMENTS AND RECOMMENDATIONS
FROM THE FIRST USERS OF THE
ICE HEALTH IMPROVEMENT SYSTEM
Leonid Batov, 56, film director
Until recently I was a stead
fast, principled enemy of progress and regarded the technological novelties of our century with suspicion. This was not a matter of my having “environmental” views, not at all. Rather, it stemmed from the very logic of my life and my art. I led a fairly secluded life, lived in the country, and socialized with a small circle of like-minded people. Once every four years I made a film. My films were termed “elite,” “hermetic,” and even “arrogantly marginal” by many film critics. They are right: I was always a supporter of elitism in art, of “films that are NOT for everyone.” I believed my primary enemy to be Hollywood, that huge McDonald’s which overran the world with cinematic “fast food” of dubious quality. My heroes and teachers were Eisenstein, Antonioni, and Hitchcock. Politically speaking, I was an anarchist, a devotee of Bakunin and Kropotkin, who struggled against the faceless machine of the state. I actively supported the Greens, even taking part in two of their actions. I was born and grew up in a totalitarian state and had always experienced a certain inner tension; I expected aggression from without. Why do I speak of my political convictions now? Because everything in man is interconnected. Ethics and aesthetics, food and attitudes toward animals. It was precisely such an inner tension that I experienced when the courier brought me the ICE system. Representatives of the manufacturer had called me on several occasions and spent a long time convincing me to accept this gift. At first, naturally, I refused. I was sick and tired of the ads for the system and the hullabaloo surrounding it which has convulsed our mass media in recent months. I repeat: I have never believed in “instant paradise,” neither in life nor in art. On the other hand, the shouts of the mass media about the “collapse of the worldwide movie industry” since the system came out, the comparisons of the system to a torpedo capable of sinking Hollywood, elicited a certain professional curiosity. In short, on receiving the box with the system, I had my breakfast, drank my traditional cup of fruit tea, moved my old leather armchair to the middle of the room, sat down, and followed the instructions to the letter. I put on the helmet and pressed the ON button. At first it was pitch dark. But the little hammer with the ice began to strike my chest evenly. A minute passed, then another. I sat there, staring at the dark. The ice hammer pounded away at my chest. There was something touching and amusing about this. I remembered how, in my childhood, when I lived in the provinces, a huge woodpecker inhabited a grove near us. No one had ever seen such an enormous woodpecker — neither Father nor the neighbors. Big and black, with white fuzzy claws and a white head. Everyone went to the grove to look at the huge woodpecker. Finally someone said that it was a Canadian woodpecker, that it wasn’t native to any part of Russia. Apparently the bird had flown out of the zoo or someone bought it and didn’t take care of it. He worked like clockwork, tapping incessantly. And so loud, so resoundingly! I would wake up from his tapping. And I’d run out to watch him. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, he was busy with his own affairs. We got so used to the black woodpecker that we started calling him Stakhanov. And then one of the delinquents from the next street over killed the woodpecker with a stone. And hung him upside down from a tree. I cried so hard. Perhaps it was that very day that I became “green”...And suddenly, remembering the dead woodpecker and staring into the dark, I began to cry. There was such a warm, sharp feeling in my heart, the sort you have only in childhood when you experience everything directly. I felt terribly sorry for the woodpecker and for all living creatures. Tears poured from my eyes. The tear aspirator in the helmet began to work immediately. It was such a pleasant feeling; the tears were sucked up so tenderly. I was trembling all over from this attack of universal compassion. And the little hammer kept on tapping and tapping, and what I felt wasn’t a blow but a sort of soft pressure in the middle of my chest. These attacks of compassion for the living rolled over me in waves, like a tide. Every wave ended in tears, which immediately disappeared in the tear aspirators. The little hammer began to strike more rapidly, and the waves came more quickly. An unending avalanche broke over me. A waterfall of compassion. I was utterly convulsed by sobs. It was phenomenal. The last time I cried like that was sixteen years ago, when Mama died. I don’t remember how long it lasted — half an hour or perhaps an hour. But I felt no fear or discomfort. On the contrary, it was very pleasant to cry like this, it purified the soul. I gave myself over entirely to these attacks. The crying gradually ended and I calmed down. The hammer tapped so fast that it seemed there was an opening in my chest all the way to my very heart. The feeling of universal compassion was replaced by a feeling of extraordinary peace and bliss. I have NEVER felt so peaceful and well in my life! And at that moment on the inner screen of the helmet an image appeared. Rather, it didn’t appear, it flared — bright, wide, and strong. I saw before me the cliffs of an island rising out of the ocean. It rose from the sea like a plateau, almost a perfect circle in form, and was several kilometers across. And I was standing on the edge of this island, holding hands with other naked people standing nearby. A girl held my left hand and an elderly man my right. They, in turn, held hands with other people. And we all formed a huge circle extending along the perimeter of the island. Somehow I understood that there were exactly twenty-three thousand of us in that circle. We stood there, very still. The ocean splashed below. The sun shone at its zenith. The blindingly blue sky spread out over us. We were all naked, blue-eyed, and fair-haired. We all awaited something with the GREATEST reverence. That moment of awaiting the greatest event continued and continued. It seemed that time had stopped. And suddenly something in my heart awoke. And my heart began to speak in a completely different language. It was amazing! My heart was speaking! For the first time in my life I felt my heart SEPARATELY, as an independent organ. It felt all the people standing in the ring, it felt each heart. And all the hearts, all our hearts, all TWENTY-THREE THOUSAND of them, began speaking in unison! They repeated some new words, although they weren’t words in the sense of speech, but more like flares of energy. These flares grew, multiplied as if they were constructing an unseen pyramid. And when there were twenty-three of them, the most amazing thing happened. It is impossible to convey in any language. The entire visible world surrounding us suddenly began to melt and grow pale. But it wasn’t at all like in the movies, when the frame pales because of a wide-open aperture. The world was actually MELTING, that is, falling apart into atoms and elemental particles. And our bodies along with it. It was INCREDIBLY pleasant: a great relief after decades of earthly life. They disappeared, disappeared, and suddenly a torrent of light
Ice Trilogy Page 50
