Being a hero is the highest destiny.

The brave are always recognized in battle.

In the mountain, the hero is checked.

Dying, the hero will not die.

M. Jalil

…a hero is a person who, at a decisive moment, does

what should be done in the interests

of human society.

Yu. Fucik

If “manners maketh man’ as someone said,

Then he’s the hero of the day,

It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile.

Be yourself no matter what they say!

Sting,“Englishman In New York’

Translator Elena Borisovna Speranskaya

© Elena Borisovna Speranskaya, 2018

© Elena Borisovna Speranskaya, translation, 2018

ISBN 978-5-4490-6791-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

1. Heart Drama

As usual, Nikifor Naumovich slept perfectly and in good spirits went to the service, to which he was used, as to the most normal routine business, perceiving the world in the light of commercials gliding across the screen and bursts of emotions of joyful leaders selling the lowest quality goods with surprising ease and self-oblivion. He never crossed the permissible border in the direction of the path, preferring to go straight, albeit with costs for his own health and a lack of free time. Sitting at the computer at the entrance to the sanatorium all night, tracking every new visitor, he received a call from the administrator in the morning and immediately suspected something was amiss.

“Now I will close the entrance and I will be with my colleague. At this time, no one is expected with a visit.”

“Thanks, Seregin appeared without delay,” thought the investigator on duty, who came to the sanatorium to work and to treat the waist. From the kitchen spread the sweet smell of vanilla cookies, baked for breakfast injured resting athletes and coaches.

“We must ensure the safety of the nearby territory if the corpses are pouring out of nowhere,” he said abruptly, pressing to hang up when this simple thought occurred to him.

“Come, my friend, it was much more complicated than we thought,” his colleague encouraged him.

He was already standing with one foot on the sidewalk, and the other was holding the door from a plastic box with glass windows, a booth set at the exit of a wide, entrance gate of a high, twisted, cast-iron fence separating from the road a stunning plot of land, intended since the Stalin era for the holiday of eminent people.

It was the middle of summer with thunderstorms, showers, occasionally hail, but immediately melted. The coolness of the morning was replaced by the stuffiness. By the evening it was getting a little fresher. From the surrounding mountains a warm, dust-enveloping air blew. The birds, wrapping in their nests, rushed with screaming in whole, large flocks, teaching young chicks the skill, soaring to the very height, but did not reach the high floors of skyscrapers, fell with desperation and hovered somewhere below, rustling plumage and breaking the space at an incredible speed. The dogs, digging out pits in the ground at the roots of the bushes, were stacked, flapping their tails, fell asleep with pleasure. Kiosks with mineral water, vending machines with soda, and barrels with kvass did not have time to change the coordinators-distributors of drinks. By twelve o’clock the sellers were taking off their aprons. They stood in the hope that the daily rate of production of the desired moisture suddenly increases at least a percentage of twenty. But it was easier to engage in percent mania on paper than in reality. The premium of the ice cream women increased and gradually grew to a pyramidal size. Famous men, walking with their grandchildren, and directors of large banks started dating them. The shadow could be sold, which was done by greedy guides, enticing naive children into their dexterous networks, ignorant youth and zealous tourists, who got rich on speculation and chatter. Guides persuaded to make dizzying routes in the snow Kilimanjaro, Pamir, anywhere, just to get rid of boring investment. The dollar and the euro were rising. Oil fell in its equivalent. Shares and securities were not available. The price per gram of gold, as always, grew. Dealers incredibly profited, barely able to figure their growing capital in the drawer of an old desk.

Work in the sanatorium-dispensary of Transcaucasian started. Only at six o’clock the morning shift of the attendants began. While all the holidaymakers were putting themselves in order, preparing for an easy breakfast, prettying themselves before a meeting with friends in a chic classic, pompous dining room with columns, colored, picked up curtains and a long buffet where delicious snacks were laid out in the center on perfectly clean white porcelain and metal sets produced in Germany.

When one of the new maids went down to the basement, she walked through the foyer to the utility room, where she ironed the dry linen on a comfortable, special, folding stand that served as a table, opened the door to the room where the towels were stored, and then froze in surprise. She saw on the floor; face down, the full length of the basement room, the corpse of a heavy old man, dressed in old, dilapidated, faded gray clothes.

Once on the day of his arrival, she talked with him when he approached her with a request to change the terry bed cover for caprone and bring him a wool blanket to his room, since he had frozen at night. He’s on his way to the resort, as he explained intelligently to the maid: “An old rheumatism and lumbosacral radiculitis has opened.”

“Darling, I need a good woman with work skills,” the heavy old man said then, leaning on the ironing board with the elbow of his right hand, coming very close to her.

“How can I help?”

The compassionate old man involuntarily took offense in the heart, for she was completely indifferent to his words, not wanting to lift his tired eyes on him, doing the drying of another set of clothes.

He remembered the young years, swiftly swept in constant running around from one library to another, reading classics of Russian literature, traveling along river open spaces with parents. He had an accumulation luggage of knowledge, communication with educated teachers, hard-working journalists, passing exams in a technical college for construction specialties. He met with the intelligent family of the future wife – a surprisingly modest and naive girl, to whom he repaired a room in the communal house. Matchmaking, honeymoon and farewell of the father – captain of the river vessel: “Do not lose each other for a long, full of reefs, obstacles and failures of life.”

There was a sudden confluence of mercenary people and fateful circumstances. Courts and long terms of imprisonment, deferred for a period, after twenty years. Care for the family and the desire to become an example for imitation of the youth. Who had already admired his remarkable abilities? Often he was advised by his wife – a fashion model and a mannequin with slender legs, much younger than him: “To be a leader in the collective of the elite of the developing society”. They discussed among themselves of the basic principles of family life, as was customary in the family of the famous revolutionary democrat N.G. Chernyshevsky.

To be the defender of such a fragile girl was not easy. They did not swear at trifles, but seriously took care of the sore problems in the common kitchen with their parents and neighbors. “Learning the moral principles of farming, serving the motherland, caring for well-being – such a great happiness none of us had ever imagined in our childhood!”

He did not forget to repeat after a hearty dinner. This was the main impetus to show his growing abilities, potential and talents among her friends, who was surprised:

“What he found in a joker and an actress, able to charm with her glamour, attracts and immediately postpones.”

Growth is much higher than average, dressed in the latest fashion, he looked respectable, reliable, as it really was. The main topics of the conversation were: “Space”, “Space of Russia”, “The vast expanse of the ocean and the height of the mountain peaks”, “Sovereignty”, “State security” – all attracted newlyweds to the all-encompassing knowledge of the universe.

Make a brilliant career, the famous relatives of both lovers in life could only admire such a lucky coincidence and similarity of characters. They zealously advised, each in his own way, to engage in scientific research, to pass immediately the candidate’s minimum, to enter the graduate school so that the circle of acquaintances would be expanded by the names of eminent professors and academicians:

“Do not stand still, but move forward in a spiral into the knowledge – the progress of humanity.”

What he did immediately, cherishing the hope of being perceived by her, as the most worthy of the citizens of a developed democratic society.

“Such happiness that you passed all the exams with excellence, I did not expect from you, my beloved,” she admired.

“At the top of me, too, all appreciated, but you’re my only…” he was embarrassed by his genius and truthfulness.

“Reality is our cradle,” his wife helped him to find himself after a rapid rise to the highest circles. They loved to travel with profit and much cheaper: he built houses and a school for street children, and she was content to calmly bear the load of cares, not burdening him with her problems, constantly studying, under his father’s leadership, life abroad.

“A good home friend would never stop us from being with you, instantly finding everything at once. I will join the Masons and Mormons. You will be my captive of a harem, a servant of a nun, a modest gray nun, a dancer ‘Moulin Rouge,’ a ballerina in the ‘Swan Lake’.”

She laughed in return, but did not renounce their main principle: to be always on the same side of the barricades. Wars, revolutions did not weaken, but strengthened the earthly attraction of Orpheus and Eurydice, Tristan and Isolde, Peter and Fevronia, Ruslan and Lyudmila. What served them was to take care only of the welfare of the people surrounding such respectable, sedate and prolific parents who managed to bring to the people of all their pupils and inmates. In retirement, they also led an ascetic lifestyle, always figuring in the center of friends and acquaintances. They were equal, they took an example of inimitable firmness, purposefulness. He never hurt, he watched his health. Once a year he went to a balneological or other Russian resort.

In a prestigious sanatorium, located in the resort area, where he had come once again with his twin brother, at a daily rate an ordinary housemaid had to iron out all the linen brought from the laundry and then spread out through the rooms.

“Yesterday came my own twin brother. I was moved to his room. He stopped here because we booked seats in this sanatorium beforehand, but could not buy tickets for one train because of the sciatica that I came here to treat” an elderly man set off into detailed reasoning and descriptions, took out of his pocket two old-fashioned branded boxes of medicines and showed an efficient maid.

“This is what the local head doctor prescribed to me after the examination: nimesulide, meloxicam. A former masseur – daghestanian man, I met him at the polyclinic, studied Tibetan medicine. He recommended vacuum therapy for me. But I prefer to be treated by folk methods. To do this, brought with me cups for massage techniques Ku Nye. Did you heard about such procedures?” the old man asked apologetically.

“No, I did not hear anything,” she answered with fright, looking up at the wise old man who had mastered, along with the ancient oriental methods of treatment, the doctors of Tibet, a complex of medicine using special cups.

“Would you like to get at least one procedure for free?” he asked sarcastically.

“I do not have time,” she answered calmly, turning her beautiful head toward him, and looked directly at the deep-set, expressive, light green eyes, under the thick, dense eyebrows and forehead, cut into even rows of wrinkles. “But I know that in the spa in our city they write down for an advertising campaign for a trial session.”

“Did you have time to recover before you arrived?”

“My back never hurts from work,” a modest, quiet maid with the manner of a nurse admitted kindly and carefully.

“I see that you are so strong and smart,” the old man got excited, grabbed the woman with one hand for the left bare arm, squeezed his muscles as if to measure the pressure, and immediately let go, but she did not pay any sharp attention to his sharp gesture.

“It’s our duty to take care of the cleanliness of the buildings.”

“I will be cured; we will return to our home, I will teach you the methods of massage. You’ll take care of my house at home and make good money with treatment sessions.”

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll think about it, “she said somehow deafly, to herself, shifting the ironed sheets from place to place.

“While the specialist will massage my back: cervicothoracic, humeral, vertebral-sacral parts using various oils. Burdock, for example. One session costs ten euros or seven hundred rubles. Vacuum therapy will improve my blood circulation at the site of exposure, remove chondroses. After several sessions, the pain syndrome will decrease.”

The maid showed her head in surprise.

“Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“No, I do not understand. We did not go to medicine at school,” turning again into the pose of the ironman, she said ironically.

“What do not you understand, dear, say?” he asked again, hoping for mutual trust.

“I remember that my mother used hot and cold compresses in turn to remove acute pain, especially at the initial stage of the disease, after laying the rails on the railway. I applied them to the site of back pain for twenty minutes every two to three hours. But this helped her a little. Then she enrolled in acupuncture through the brunt of her brother. I paid decent – a thousand rubles, but my brother did not allow her to visit the polyclinic often, he went to the hospital himself, and then went to Altai, as he said, to study moxa-therapy – heating up with cigars. He wrote in a letter that he cured not only his back, but also his legs. They were taken from him when walking. He worked on a tractor in the village. He caught a cold and almost died. No healer could help relieve tension and soreness. I remember my mother was walking, limping,” the maid told her family history of the disease bitterly.

“We need to think over your words. Do you love Mom’s brother?” the old man asked with a feeling of anger that the old man asked with a feeling of anger that he had been rejected.

“Grandfather, go, rest,” the maid advised sympathetically.

“I’ll go now. But you better don’t teach me anymore. I myself know that acupuncture is performed with the help of thin needles, which are introduced into the place of localization of pain. This is a long-known, well-proven method. Still there is a method of alternative medicine – apitherapy – treatment by bee stings. They use them for many diseases. For multiple sclerosis, including sciatica, but here in the sanatorium, there are no such procedures. But ‘moxa’ is a bad word.”

“Do not like it, do not say… And you probably have an apiary, if you all know so well about the disease?”

“I had an apiary, but I sold it. There is no one to mess around with the hives. It is necessary to clean them constantly and re-apply the solution for bait.”

“Really. It was easier to go to the bazaar and buy what you need at a reasonable price,” continued the thought of him the maid, who liked to drink tea with honey and gingerbread. She had an unbiased interest in a conversation with an experienced beekeeper and a respectable man.

“I’ll take your advice now. For example, do you know what the technique of neuromuscular relaxation is?”

The old man crouched gratefully at the chair that had been pushed up to her and relaxed.

“I think warming up with a wrap. Masks all sorts: chocolate, fruit,” looking at the sheet with a picture of vases with apples, pears and plums, the maid said uncertainly. “Such creams for use should be bought in a cosmetic shop and applied to the most painful places… My mother did not live to see such a ‘circulation stimulation by correction’, the surgeon told her when he decided to have her surgery in the hospital. She did not agree.”

“Did your brother live in Tibet?”

“Well, what am I to do with you, again sticking with your personal life?” The maid became nervous, put the iron on the board, took the decanter from the pantry and poured water into the iron for better wetting the sheets.

“But remember, when treating sciatica with folk remedies or Tibetan medicine, the effect is achieved by relaxing the muscles,” the sick old man came to his own conclusion.

“Thanks, I’ll know now,” she said politely, helping the old man to get out of the chair.

“And you could become a good nurse,” the old man concluded, delighted that she did not know anything, she was especially unskilled in medicine, notably since she had no relatives or family who would lead the behavior of the maid in personal communication.

“Could, but did not,” she introduced a manly tough.

“Here, come to me someday in the room I’ll tell something about my life in the North. There were a lot of people working with us at the construction site. My brother is lean, eats a little. But he likes full women. We will not talk with him. Bring a plate and a spoon from the dining room. We’ll have tea with crackers and honey.

“What do you propose to me not to talk to him, if I do not come to you or to your lean brother? I have enough work in the building,” said the maid, putting all her thoughts about her activity in the phrase.