An Easter Carol - Part V

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part V - Easter Morning

When Vladimir Vladimirovich woke up the next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows into his room. “The Ghosts must have left the curtains open,” he thought. His back was a bit stiff from sleeping in the chair, but he stood up and stretched a bit, which helped. He looked around the room; the fire had burned to ashes, there was the empty vodka bottle on the side table on top of the report, but otherwise everything seemed normal. “Humbug,” he said out loud.

After a change of clothes, and a quick breakfast, he entered his office. His secretary Ivan Ivanovich was already there waiting for him, “Good morning Sir, and how was your Easter.”

“Interesting, and enlightening,” he replied, “Call the General, the Lawyer, and the Press secretary here.”

“Right away, Sir,” Ivan Ivanovich said.

“Last night I met…” Vladimir Vladimirovich began, but stopped himself. “Last night, I was thinking about these children.”

“Children, Sir?” Ivan Ivanovich asked.

“Not real children, of course, a metaphor,” Vladimir Vladimirovich continued, “something that is not yet grown up, not yet found its final form. The future, so to speak.”

“I understand,” Ivan Ivanovich said, though he really did not.

“They were called Ignorance, War, Freedom, and Hope, and they made me think.”

“Think about…” Ivan Ivanovich started confused, mainly just to show that he was listening.

Just then the door opened and the General, the Lawyer, and a third person, who had to be the Press secretary, entered the room.

“Good morning, Sir, and how was your Easter” they all said at the same time, as if competing for his attention.

“Humbug! We have work to do, no time for niceties,” Vladimir Vladimirovich replied. “As I was saying to Ivan Ivanovich here,” he said, paused, and then continued, “as I was saying, I have been thinking, and I have come up with a plan.”

“First of all, we need to accept the fact that the West is waging a War against us; they are the aggressors, the warmongers. We are defending our Motherland and are fighting for our survival. We need to fight this with all we have.” He looked at the General, “you understand, with all we have. It is the only way we can survive, save Mother Russia and live in peace.”

“Yes Sir, I understand, we will use all the weapons we have in our arsenal,” the General replied.

“The West’s War against us has created special circumstances, and the situation calls for extraordinary measures. The West wants to impose their so-called liberal democratic freedoms on us, to undermine the fabric of our society. They want to wreck our traditions, upend the natural order of life and make us weak. Make us Slaves to the West. The Russian people do not want these liberal freedoms, when men are not men and women are not women, and anyone can marry anyone. Russians will not be Slaves, we will be free of this decadent liberal filth.”

“We should get the Church involved,” the Press secretary suggested, “arrange another visit to an important monastery or a church, to show our support for traditional Russian values. In times like these, it is always good to embrace religious orthodoxy.”

“I agree, get it done,” Vladimir Vladimirovich ordered, and continued. “Make no mistake, there will be sacrifices, the economy will be worse, there will be casualties. But remember, rhetoric always overcomes reality. You understand,” he asked, but did not wait for them to answer. “We cannot block the Internet or information from seeping in, that is futile, instead we will make people ignore it. We will hammer down the message that nothing in the Western liberal media is true, it is just propaganda, and not worth listening to.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich paused, and let the message sink in, and then continued. “What is the truth? We will tell the people what the truth is. Not the Western liberal media, not the Internet, Us! Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Sir,” the Press secretary replied, and Vladimir Vladimirovich continued. “Everything is possible for us if the Russian people are willing to sacrifice for unity and for the common good. When people are not burdened with unimportant unnecessary “information” from Western propaganda, they are free to provide unblinking obedience and we can expect raw strength from them for the fight.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at the Lawyer, “And you! Any demonstrations or opposition, you crack down, immediately and hard. Is that clear?” Again not waiting for a reply, he continued, “I have seen this before, in Dresden. The Germans did not deal with the demonstrations firmly and on time. They let the people demonstrate, thinking they could just let them blow off some steam, and then the people would go home. But they did not go home, the demonstrations just grew bigger. And by the time the Germans tried to do something, it was already too late.”

“Give the Devil a finger and he will take your hand,” the Lawyer said.

“Exactly!” Vladimir Vladimirovich exclaimed, “and you do remember what happened to Ceausescu?” No one replied, but he saw that they remembered. “First sign of dissent, nip it in the bud. We need to make sure there is no hope in resisting the Government. No hope. Make sure hope dies.”

“How about creating a new dissident movement,” the Lawyer proposed. The other two looked at him a bit nervously, but he continued, “A new opposition movement would draw out the last undesirables from the shadows, the ones who smile at you and say yes, but really hate you and stab you in the back when opportunity comes. Once they are out in the open we can crush them. To prove the point that hope is dead.”

“Good idea, and it has worked before,” Vladimir Vladimirovich replied, “and it would help with the mobilisation.”

The Press secretary finished writing notes, and then said, “So, the message will be;
-A defensive War against the West results in Peace for Russia.
-Decadent imported liberal Freedoms mean Slavery for Russians.
-Ignoring Western propaganda gives Strength to the people of Russia.
-And for traitors of the Motherland, Hope is dead.”

He paused and added,

“War is Peace
Freedom is Slavery
Ignorance is Strength
Hope is Dead”

“I like the sound of that,” Vladimir Vladimirovich agreed. “So, do you have any questions?”

“Not a question, Sir,” the General said, “but if I may say so; this is a very cunning plan, Sir.”

“Well, it will be even better when you make it work,” Vladimir Vladimirovich replied, “get on with it, I want to see some results.”

They started for the door, and just as they were leaving the room, Vladimir Vladimirovich said, “and Happy Easter to you.”

They stopped and replied with a bit unsure “Happy Easter, Sir”, and left the room. Then Vladimir Vladimirovich said to himself smiling:

“This is, after all, a Happy Easter.”

An Easter Carol - Part IV

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part IV - Ghost of Easter Yet to Come

There was someone standing in front of the fire. He was tall and thin, and dressed all in black.

“And you must be another ghost,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said exhausted.

The figure in black did not reply. He turned and looked at Vladimir Vladimirovich. He was wearing spectacles, which seemed to be useless, as one lens was cracked and the other was totally missing. He bowed politely, as if to greet him, and walked to the door.

“He does not speak Russian,” someone said. The voice seemed to come from his chair. Vladimir Vladimirovich looked and saw that there was a black cat curled up on the chair, the same cat he had seen previously. The cat stretched and said, “anyway, he is the Ghost of Easter Yet to Come.”

“First ghosts and now talking cats?” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.

“What’s wrong, haven’t you seen a talking cat before? You should be going,” the cat said, “I’ll stay here by the fire.”

The Ghost had opened the door and held it open for Vladimir Vladimirovich.

The cat stood up on two legs, and gently pushed Vladimir Vladimirovich towards the door, “Don’t happen to have any vodka here, I could have a few while I wait.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich walked out and the Ghost followed him. They walked down the stairs and along the corridors, and the Ghost always politely opened the doors for him and let him go first. Finally they came to his office.

It was his office alright, but the furniture was different.

“Welcome to your old office,” the Ghost said.

“But, I thought you did not speak Russian,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.

“And who told you that? You believe a cat who talks, and drinks vodka,” the Ghost replied, “you should know better.”

There was a group of people sitting around a table discussing something. “Let me present to you, the Government,” the Ghost said and walked around the table, “Alexei Navalny, Vladimir Kara-Murza, Ilya Yashin, Yevgeny Roizman…”

“But they are in prison, I put them there,” Vladimir Vladimirovich interrupted.

“They were in prison, in your time. This is the future.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, after your time.” The Ghost looked at some documents on the table, “Looks like they are discussing some infrastructure framework deal with the EU. Interesting.”

“With the EU,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said, astonished.

“Don’t look so gloomy. Besides, it’s boring stuff, legal jargon, bureaucratic. Let’s go outside, it is a lovely day.”

*****

And with that they were walking on a street. It was a sunny day, and there was a long queue of people along the sidewalk.

“And what would they be queueing for,” the Ghost asked excitedly. “This is like in the old days. Queueing to buy something of inferior quality, something of second-grade freshness maybe, to buy anything.”

“The economy has crashed,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said vindicated, “I knew they could not run the country.”

They walked along the queue, which seemed to have a joyous atmosphere, which felt strange for a country in depression. They followed the queue, even turned a corner, and then finally arrived at a big official looking building.

“But this is not a department store,” the Ghost said astonished.

“What are they queueing for then? Government handouts?” Vladimir Vladimirovich asked, irritated.

“Oh, I see,” the Ghost said, and pointed at a sign by the door. Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at it. “Voting Hours Extended” it said in big black letters.

“Looks like there is an election,” the Ghost said, and added, “well, spirits can’t vote. Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere peaceful.”

*****

They were in a cemetery, an old one. The gravestones were mossy and overgrown, and the paths looked unused. There was no one else there.

The Ghost walked to a grey gravestone, it had a piece missing in one corner and it was leaning to one side. He wiped the surface with his hand, “Can you read this? V-L-A-D-I-M-I-, is that an R?… V-L-A-D… Hey, this is yours,” he exclaimed with excitement, “was not sure we could find it.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at the stone. His name was there all right. The rest of what was written on the stone was covered with dead leaves and grasses. “Why is no one taking care of this,” he asked irritated.

“It is a bit on the side, at the back. You know, a long way from the gate,” the Ghost started, but just then they heard someone approaching.

“This way, back here,” a man appeared, he walked with a limp and had a walking stick. One could tell that he had a prosthetic leg. A woman and a small boy followed him.

“A veteran, paying his respects,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said proudly.

“Mihail, I don’t like this place, this is creepy,” the woman said, “and what will people think if they see us here, visiting his grave.”

“Who will see us here, look around, there is no one here,” the man countered, “Irina, no one, ever, comes here, ever.”

“But, Mihail, why did you want to come here then,” the woman asked.

“I told you, wanted to see his grave for myself. To see he is dead. To show him that I’m still here. Still alive.” And he added, “and to make sure that he stays dead, and six feet under.” He was silent for a while, just staring at the grave. “The stupid war…”

“Daddy, look there is a squirrel,” the boy shouted. A squirrel ran up the closest tree, and sat on a branch, looking at them. Then it jumped to another tree. “Daddy, let’s follow it. Come on.”

“Alexei, wait for us,” the woman said. She took the man by the arm, and they followed their son down the path.

“I don’t think he is going to visit you again, do you,” the Ghost said, “or anyone else for that matter.”

“The ungrateful…” Vladimir Vladimirovich started, but the cemetery faded away, and he was back in his room. The fire was still burning, and there was an empty vodka bottle on the side table on top of the report he had been reading. But the room was empty, there was no one there.

He sat down and stared at the fire, lost in his thoughts, until the fire died down. Just before he fell asleep in the chair, he muttered silently, “Humbug.”

An Easter Carol - Part III

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part III - Ghost of Easter Present

There was a cosy fire burning when Vladimir Vladimirovich came back to his room. Remembering his past and especially seeing it, had been exhausting, and for a while he stared into the fire with glazed eyes. He was thinking about Dresden and Victoria, and how happy he had been, but slowly his eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep in his chair.

He woke up to a feeling that he was not alone. The fire was still burning, and as he looked around the room, he noticed that there was someone sitting in the other chair. 

“Thought you would never wake up. A rough trip, was it? They said you might be tired after your first trip.” 

This one was a ghost as well, Vladimir Vladimirovich realised. It was transparent like the ones before, and knew about his previous trip. “And, who might you be?” 

“Me? I am a Spirit,” the Ghost replied as he stood up, “we should be going.” 

Vladimir Vladimirovich looked at the Ghost and recognised him, “you are Boris Nemtsov.” 

“I used to be. Tonight I am the Ghost of Easter Present,” the Ghost replied. 

“Why you?” 

“Well, the Professor has a wicked sense of humour. And the others thought this was a hilarious idea,” the Ghost said, “but, now we have to go.” As soon as he had said that, the room disappeared, and they were standing on a street, which was definitely not in Russia. The afternoon sun was shining, there was a canal in the middle of the street, and the houses had three or four stories, and were painted with different colours.

“Joseph Vissarionovich insisted that I bring you here. Normally I would not do anything he says, but this really is a good idea,” the Ghost said. 

“Amsterdam, maybe,” Vladimir Vladimirovich thought. 

“Just in time,” the Ghost said, and pointed up the street.

A sports car, with its top down, was coming down the street. As it approached them, it slowed down, obviously looking for a suitable place to park. There was a space on the canal side, and once the car was parked, the driver got out.

It was Victoria. She was older now, and her hair was different, but no doubt about it, it was Victoria. And she still looked beautiful. She took a small bag from the car, crossed the street, and entered the house in front of them. 

“Nice ride. 718 Boxster. I wouldn’t mind having one of these,” the Ghost said examining the car. “Looks like red is still her favourite colour.” He turned to Vladimir Vladimirovich, “got it from her husband, a birthday present,” and pointing at the house, continued, “want to look inside?” 

Through the second floor window they saw a dining room and a lot of people setting the table, and bringing food from the kitchen. 

“The one setting the plates is their younger daughter, and the one setting the glasses is her boyfriend,” the Ghost explained, “the pregnant one is their older daughter, and her husband is the one bringing the roast.” 

Victoria entered, and the young man with the wine bottles shouted, “she’s here.” 

“And that is their son,” the Ghost added. A man came from the kitchen with a bottle of champagne, and a pretty young woman carried a tray of tall glasses. “The husband, and the son’s girlfriend.” 

The champagne bottle opened with a pop, and he filled the glasses. The girlfriend served everyone a glass, and they gathered around the table, Victoria by the side of her husband.

“We did not have a big celebration for your mother’s birthday, I was busy at work as always, and anyway she did not want to celebrate without all of you here,” the husband started, “she did get a nice car though.” Everyone laughed, and Victoria gave her husband a kiss on the cheek. “But, now that you are all here, we can celebrate her birthday and Easter at the same time.” 

“I do love the car,” Victoria said, “but more than that, I love it that the people I love the most in this world are here today,” and turning to her husband, “and I do love you.” And she gave him another kiss. 

“Happy Birthday,” her husband said, as he raised his glass, “and happy Easter.” 

“I bet that champagne is better than the one you managed to get her in Dresden,” the Ghost commented.

Vladimir Vladimirovich turned away from the window, “Why did you bring me here? And where are we anyway?” 

“Why show you this? She made her choice,” the Ghost replied, “and you made yours.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not reply, and the Ghost continued, “she married a human rights lawyer, remember?” 

“We’re in The Hague.” 

*****

Before Vladimir Vladimirovich could say a word, the city around them disappeared, and they were in what seemed to be a dark room. There was a small green wooden box in the middle and a small light on top of it. 

Vladimir Vladimirovich looked around and saw that there were bunks along the walls and men sitting or sleeping in them. Maybe five or six in the room, he could not tell for sure. The floor was muddy, and when his eyes got used to the dark, he saw that the walls were made of logs. He then looked at the men closer, and saw that they were all in uniform. They had assault rifles and other weapons and there were ammunition boxes scattered on the floor. “This is a dugout,” he thought, “we are somewhere on the front.” 

He heard what sounded like automatic gunfire and distant explosions, but no one in the dugout reacted to the sounds, everyone looked dirty and tired. 

“Boys, it’s Easter today,” someone said from the darkness. 

“Well, Happy Easter then,” came the tired reply. 

“What exactly is happy with it,” someone added sarcastically. 

“Guys, I have a question. If you die on Good Friday, do you go straight to Heaven, or do you have to wait for three days like Jesus.” 

Laughter.

“If you are going to get all religious, why don’t you convert to Islam while you are at it. I hear they get virgins as well,” said the one looking at the maps.  

Laughter.

“A day or three days, or virgins. You don’t have to worry about that,” added the one cleaning his rifle, “it won’t be Heaven we will be going to, and no rush to get to the other place.”

There was silence, apart from the explosions and gunfire from outside.

After a while the door opened, and light streamed into the dugout and the sounds from the outside became clearer. A man entered carrying a rifle in one hand and a bundle in the other. 

“Boys, look what I managed to get for us.”

He sat down and started opening the bundle on the box in the middle. A black cat jumped down from a bunk, and walked carefully across the muddy floor to the box.

“See, even the cat knows this is something good,” he said as he unwrapped a small cake with yellow frosting on it. “Happy Easter boys.”

“How did you manage to get that,” said the one with the rifle, he was loading magazines now. 

“Bought it from a Babushka in a village at the back. Spent all I had left for it.”

“Wise decision, better spend than save. Can’t take it with you, and can’t bribe your way into heaven with it.”

Laughter. The cat was licking the sugary wrapping, and glanced at the man with the cake. 

“Go on, you had your share,” he pushed the cat gently off the box, and took out a big knife, “Now I just have to work out how to cut this into seven pieces.” 

“Make it six. The new boy got it in the morning.” 

Silence. The cat walked to the door, stopped and turned to look back inside. It stayed there for a moment, and then walked out, probably to chase some unfortunate mouse. 

“Six pieces then.” He cut the cake in silence and gave everyone a slice. “Well boys, Happy Easter anyway.”

There was a bright flash, and Vladimir Vladimirovich saw the men, the weapons, the ammunition boxes, the bunks, the dugout itself and everything in it, dissolve into the bright white light. 

*****

They were in a courtyard. There was a young woman with two children there, one of them, about five years old, was on the swing, and the younger one was playing with some sticks. The woman looked up, and her face lit up. “Look, who’s coming,” she said to the children.

Vladimir Vladimirovich saw his secretary Ivan Ivanovich enter the courtyard. The children ran to him and he hugged them. “They wanted to wait for you,” she said, and kissed him. 

Ivan Ivanovich picked up the younger child, “Let’s go in, let’s see who else is here.” 

They entered the building, and the Ghost and Vladimir Vladimirovich followed. They came to a big apartment that was full of people. 

“Natasha and Ivan are here,” someone shouted. Everyone greeted them and soon the children ran in and disappeared somewhere into the crowd. It looked like everyone who lived in the building was in this apartment. 

There was a table full of food and drink, and people standing around it eating and talking. 

“Ivan, you made it,” an older woman exclaimed, and embraced him. “Happy Easter mother,” Ivan replied. 

“Come, have something to eat,” she said, and led him to the table. While his mother was filling his plate, he noticed his wife talking to a young woman holding a baby. They were obviously talking about the baby, who could not be more than a few months old.

An older man next to Ivan gave him a small glass and filled it from a bottle of vodka, “looks like Natasha would not mind giving me another grandchild,” he said. 

“I am working on it father, I am working on it,” Ivan replied smiling. He raised his glass, “Happy Easter.”

“To the future,” the older man replied, “Na Zdorovie.” 

Vladimir Vladimirovich noticed a big black cat jump on to a chair by the table. It took the vodka bottle in its paws, filled a glass, and drank it in one go. Then it wiped its whiskers with its paw, took a pickled gherkin from a plate and jumped on top of a bookshelf to eat it. 

“Did you see that,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said astonished. 

“Well, he does have a taste for vodka,” the Ghost replied, “come on, I need to show you something.” 

*****

They appeared on an empty cold street. There were three emaciated children huddled among some cardboard boxes trying to stay warm. They were dressed in rags, and anyone could see that they were hungry and miserable. 

Unlike other people, the children noticed them, and Vladimir Vladimirovich realised that they could see him and the Ghost. “They can see us.”

“Yes, they can. You see, they are not exactly real,” the Ghost said, as the children slowly stood up and walked towards them. “They are the brothers Bezdomny, representations of possible futures. He is called Ignorance,” the Ghost introduced the oldest one. 

“My name is Freedom,” the skinny one said, “and I am called War,” the one with the limp added. 

“And where is your little brother,” the Ghost asked. 

“He’s there,” Ignorance said, pointing to a small bundle of rags among the boxes. 

Now Vladimir Vladimirovich could see that there was a fourth very small child sitting in a corner of a cardboard box, shivering in the cold. 

“He is too weak to stand up,” Freedom added. And War asked, “Can you give us something to eat, mister?” 

“They don’t have anything to give us,” Ignorance said. 

“I know that. But it is always worth a try,” War replied. 

Still looking at the smallest child Vladimir Vladimirovich asked, “and what is his name?” 

“Hope,” the Ghost replied, “and, if things do not change, he will be the first one to die.” And looking straight at Vladimir Vladimirovich, he added, “If You do not change.”

“What do you mean? If I don’t change.” 

“You have the power to shape the future,” the Ghost said, “the power to save these children or to let them die.” 

“But you just said they weren’t real.”

“I did. You are right, they are not real, but, in the future, they can be. It’s Your decision.” And as the Ghost said that, the street started to disappear, and soon Vladimir Vladimirovich was back in his room.

An Easter Carol - Part II

Russkiy Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part II - Ghost of Easter Past

Vladimir Vladimirovich sat in his chair for a long time. Had Boris Nikolayevich, or his ghost to be precise, visited him or had he dreamt it all. Or had he been poisoned and he was hallucinating? Everything seemed normal, and he felt good, so no poison. He thought about calling the guards, but they might think he was crazy asking about Boris Nikolayevich, and then the word would spread, ‘the boss has lost it’. If he really had been visited by a ghost, it would mean that ghosts exist, and he knew they did not. Or, did they?

The fire slowly died and he noticed that the room had become cold. He got up, said “Humbug” to no one in particular, and went to bed. 

He could not have slept for long, since it was still dark when someone shouted, “Wake up, no time to waste,” and kicked his bed so hard that it shook. He woke up instantly and saw a dark figure peering over him. “Get up. We have to go.”

“What the hell is this, in the middle of the night?” Vladimir Vladimirovich thought as he sat up on the bed, “Who dares disturb me at this hour? Where are the guards?” 

Then a horrible thought hit him, “A coup! It’s a coup.” His mind started racing, “This is it.” “Are they going to finish me off here and now?” “Take me to Ljubyanka?” “Or a trial?” “How did they get in?” “Who betrayed me?”

“Davai davai davai, ” the dark figure gestured for him to get up.

“Definitely a coup. Who the hell is this?” He turned on the lamp by the bed, looked at the figure, and froze. He could not believe his eyes. First of all, in the light he could see that the figure was transparent, like Boris Nikolayevich, a Ghost. But what really surprised him was that he recognised who this was. No mistaking, those piercing eyes and that moustache, “Joseph Vissarionovich?”

“Well, who did you expect? And by the way, if this was a coup, you would be drinking with Boris Nikolayevich by now. Didn’t that drunk tell you I was coming?” 

“So, it had really happened, I have really been visited by a ghost, and here was another one. And how did he know I thought this was a coup,” he thought, and then replied timidly to the Ghost, “He only mentioned Spirits, three Spirits.”

“Well, here I am, the first Spirit,” the Ghost leaned closer and said in a low menacing whisper, “the Ghost of Easter Past,” and added, “Your past.” 

Somehow hearing that filled Vladimir Vladimirovich with dread. “What happens now?” 

“We are going on a trip,” the Ghost said cheerfully. “Get up, davai davai davai.” 

Vladimir Vladimirovich reluctantly stood up, and the room around him started to disappear, first the walls, then the furniture, and then the floor; in the end he was standing in total darkness. Then he saw lights approaching in the distance, and soon he entered a city. He was moving through the streets with unnatural speed, though he felt no wind or other normal effects of speed. 

The buildings lining the streets were mostly joyless grey, from what seemed to be decades of soot, grime and dirt, and the few streetlights only managed to light small blotches here and there. The whole city gave the impression of an old black and white photograph, with a few bits of colour added afterwards. 

He came to a large square and passed a statue of some historical figure, with the ruins of some old building behind it. Then he crossed a river, and entered a residential street on the other side. There were a few people walking on the streets, and there were lights in the windows. He was moving slower now, turned a corner, and came to a halt in front of a drab grey house. “I know this place,” he exclaimed, surprised. 

“Your old office.” The Ghost had materialised next to him from somewhere. “Let's look inside.”

They approached a window and looked inside. 

Vladimir Vladimirovich could not believe his eyes; he saw himself at a desk, although a much younger version of himself. He looked so young. In front of the desk there was a man slouched on a chair, and two uniformed guards were standing by the door. The man was holding his head in his hands, and was muttering something incomprehensible. 

The younger Vladimir Vladimirovich signed some papers, put them in a folder and said to the guards, “we are done here.” 

“What now, the Germans?” One of the guards asked. 

“Yes, tell them to pick him up, let them deal with this. Take him away.”

The guards grabbed the man by the arms and lifted him up from the chair. The man looked like he could barely stand, and he dragged his feet, as the guards walked him out of the office. 

“And another good day’s work done, for a loyal servant of the Party and the Motherland,” the Ghost said, with just a hint of sarcasm. 

His younger self stood up and put the folder into a filing cabinet. He locked it, put the key in his pocket, took his coat and hat, switched out the lights and left the office. 

“Your last, happy Easter in Dresden,” the Ghost whispered in his ear, emphasising the word ‘happy’. 

After a while, they saw his younger self exit the house. He walked down the road a bit and reached a parked car. He stopped and started scanning the surroundings, as if to check if he was followed. He checked the other side of the street, and then turned to look straight at them. They both immediately ducked down behind a wall. “Did he see us,” Vladimir Vladimirovich asked nervously. 

“Of course not, we are spirits. Can’t see us,” the Ghost replied, “it’s instinctive, you know, this hiding. Hard to get used to being invisible. And I have been doing this for 70 years.” 

By now, his younger self had got into the car and drove off. 

“Maybe you are on one of your secret surveillance operations,” the Ghost said. “Let's see where you are going.” 

They followed the car from a discrete distance around the city, along a seemingly random route. After driving for about half an hour, his younger self turned into a side street, and parked the car in a dark spot between two streetlights. 

His younger self came out of the car, looked around, and started walking back towards them. They quickly entered a dark corridor, and hid in the back against the wall. As his younger self was passing, he suddenly stopped and looked suspiciously into the dark. He was looking straight at Vladimir Vladimirovich, who did not even dare to breathe. 

The seconds passed as they were looking at each other. Then a huge black cat appeared from the back of the corridor. It walked past the younger man, paying absolutely no attention to him and then vanished somewhere into the dark street. 

“Now that was exciting,” the Ghost whispered, as the younger man continued on his way, “looks like you sensed your presence. It happens sometimes, when you meet yourself. And did you see the size of that cat?” 

As his younger self turned around the corner, they came out of the doorway and hurried after him. He walked for a few blocks further, turned another corner, crossed the street and then entered an old building.

By now Vladimir Vladimirovich knew exactly where they were, and what his younger self was doing here. “Why did you bring me here?” 

“Me? I did not bring us here. We followed You, remember,” the Ghost said feigning innocence. “Your private secret safehouse, for your important, discreet and totally secret operations.” He looked up at the windows on the second floor, “shall we?” 

They were looking into the living room of an apartment, nothing fancy, but comfortable, one you could live in. Then they saw the young Vladimir Vladimirovich enter the room, “Victoria,” he called, and a young beautiful woman came from another room and ran to his arms. “Nikolai, I missed you.”

“Nikolai? Did not tell your real name to her then,” the Ghost said, “always by the book. Except, of course, her,” he said looking at the young woman, “Victoria, the lovely Victoria. How old was she, eighteen?” 

“Nineteen, but you knew that already,” was the dry reply. 

“That’s right, nineteen. And you gave her a birthday present.” 

Just then his younger self gave a small package to the woman. “This is for you.” 

“For me,” she said, acting surprised. 

“It has your name on the box.” 

She untied the red ribbon and unwrapped the package. “Oh it does, wonder what kind of secrets there are in it?” She opened the box. “But Nikolai,” she lifted a piece of red lacey lingerie from the box, “beautiful, oh, this is So Beautiful. Must have cost a fortune, how did you get it?” 

“I have connections,” his younger self said smiling.

She hugged and kissed him again. “I want to try this on. You open the champagne, while I change.” And she ran into the other room. 

“You did not get that from Dresden, did you,” the Ghost said, “smuggled from the West by one of your contacts, I guess.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not reply. His younger self went to another room, apparently the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He opened the bottle with a pop, and filled the two glasses. “How are you doing in there? Hope it is the right size?” “Oh, it is beautiful,” came the reply, “just wait till you see me.” 

“So, this is how you develop an intelligence asset,” the Ghost wondered. 

“She was an active member of the Freie Deutsche Jugend,” Vladimir Vladimirovich countered a bit annoyed. 

“I’m sure, that was not her only asset,” the Ghost said. And before Vladimir Vladimirovich could say anything else, she appeared in the doorway wearing the lingerie, and nothing but. 

“How do I look?” She asked with a smile, as she leaned against the doorframe. 

“Definitely, not her only asset,” the Ghost declared. “That is what I call a true comrade, totally dedicated to the cause.” 

His younger self stood up, took both champagne glasses from the table and walked over to her. “You look perfect.” He gave her a glass. “Happy Birthday.” 

She sipped some champagne and put her arms around him, still holding the glass, “I love you, Nikolai Alexandrovich.” Then she kissed him and pulled him to the other room. 

They were left staring at the empty room. 

“Then, The Wall came down, and she dumped you,” the Ghost said unceremoniously. 

“Left a note on that very table, ‘Dear Nikolai, It was fun while it lasted, but now it is over. Anyway, Victoria belongs to the victorious side. Send me a postcard from Leningrad. XXX.”

*****

The room disappeared, and suddenly they were standing beside a big statue of a woman in a carriage, drawn by four horses. It was a sunny day, and Vladimir Vladimirovich realised they were on top of a monument, and there was a huge joyous crowd of people below them.

“Where was I,” the Ghost said looking at the statue, “oh, Victoria, in her lacey red lingerie, ever wondered who else she wore it for?” Vladimir Vladimirovich did not reply. “Married a lawyer, a human rights lawyer,” the Ghost said, emphasising the last three words. “Human rights, can you believe that? Human rights? What a wishy-washy, bleeding-heart, weakling idea,” the Ghost said with contempt, and added, ”what rights?”

There was The Wall on one side of the monument, and crowds of people on both sides. They were climbing on top of The Wall, some were drinking champagne, and a few were even hammering pieces off the wall, and no one did anything to stop them. 

“Remember when the crowd stormed the Stasi headquarters in Dresden,” the Ghost asked, “and then they tried to storm yours. You called the Red Army for protection. Remember what they said? We cannot do anything without orders from Moscow,” he added mockingly. 

“And Moscow is silent." Vladimir Vladimirovich said silently.

“And Moscow is silent,” the Ghost repeated, “nobody lifted a finger, they did absolutely nothing, and because of that, they lost everything.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not say anything, there was nothing to say. He just watched the crowd below as they celebrated their newfound freedom, and the end of his world. 

“I built the Empire, and they just gave it away,” the Ghost said, “first half of Europe, then the Baltics, Belarus, Ukraine, and then the Caucasus, even the Stans. And what were they left with? An Empire hacked to pieces. For what?” Pointing to the crowd below, he added incredulously, “and for Them?” 

They were silent for a while, both lost in their thoughts, then the Ghost added, “we all cried, not a dry eye in the house. Even Yezhov and Beria. Can you believe that, Beria, crying. You should have seen that.”

“I have seen enough,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said.

An Easter Carol - Part I

Russkyi Mir Edition - Easter 2023

Part I - Boris Nikolayevich’s Ghost

Boris Nikolayevich was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.

Vladimir Vladimirovich knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? He had arranged the funeral; had been there when they put him into the ground.

Long time ago they had been partners, and now Vladimir Vladimirovich took care of the business by himself..

Then why was he thinking about Boris Nikolayevich, the man had been dead for at least 10, or was it already 15 years? Had someone mentioned his name during the day, or had something else reminded him, some insignificant detail maybe, he could not tell. He just could not help thinking about Boris Nikolayevich. 

It was Easter, but for Vladimir Vladimirovich it was just another day in the office. He did not care what day it was, he was a busy man, and was always dealing with very important affairs of the state. He could not afford to take a day off, especially for a religious holiday, besides he had already had a photo-op at the church. Why would he take a day off for a fairy tale? For something that did not happen two thousand years ago. Humbug!

Anyway, even if he could take the day off, he definitely would not. He was hard as steel and sharp as flint, self-contained, secret and solitary as an oyster. He always seemed to carry his own low temperature with him wherever he went, and external heat and cold had little influence on him. No warmth could warm, or no wintry weather chill him.

Besides, what would he do? And where would he go? He did not want to meet anyone, let alone ‘party’ with them. And he knew no one wanted to meet him, except of course those who wanted something from him. There was no cheerful friend or nephew or anyone, who would invite him to a party. But what did he care? It was the very thing he liked. To edge along on his solitary path in life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance.

Once upon a time, there had been many colleagues and business acquaintances, and even people who called themselves his friends, but nowadays they were all living abroad, or were in prison, or were dead as door-nails. Indeed, he had made sure of that, he thought, with something resembling a faint smile on his steely face. 

The door to his office opened and his secretary Ivan Ivanovich walked in, followed by two men. One was the General, you could tell by the amount of coloured strips and medals on his green uniform. The other was the Lawyer, one of the thousands of grey, nameless, faceless bureaucrats, working in some government department with a long name.

“Vladimir Vladimirovich,” the General started, trying to sound less official, “regarding the Special Military Operation. The current offensive is not advancing as well as we both had planned.” There was a pause, and then he continued, “The troops are running low on ammunition, equipment losses are high, and unfortunately the casualty figures are higher than expected.” There was another pause. “Well, we, the generals that is, think, to successfully continue the operation, think that we will need more boots on the ground. Another mobilisation.” Another pause. “And the arms industry. There is the issue of the timely replenishment of means of destruction. Although they are working three shifts, they are struggling to keep pace with the demands of the units conducting the Special Military Operation.”

“May I suggest something,” the Lawyer said, “we do have a law now that allows us to take over the management of arms manufacturers, if they fail to meet state contracts.”

“Well, there you are. Get more equipment out of storage, and take over the arms factories if you have to,” Vladimir Vladimirovich said to the General, and then turned to the Lawyer, “And?” 

“Sir, as usual, I am worried about the economy and the public opinion. The sanctions; there is a possibility that soon hundreds of thousands will be in want of everyday comforts, the people will complain. And regarding the casualties; there are signs that the public opinion could turn negative in the future. That would not be good for the new mobilisation.”

Slippery, Vladimir Vladimirovich thought, turns with the wind. Lawyers. Have to keep an eye on him. “We are in an existential struggle for the survival of the Motherland. The Russian people are willing to sacrifice some common comforts for that. It is a patriotic duty.”

“Yes Sir, I am sure they are.” They both said at the same time, like they had rehearsed it.

Like parrots, Vladimir Vladimirovich thought. “And the public opinion; what is the situation with the media?”

“Well, all media outlets spreading deliberately false information about the Special Military Operation have been closed,” the Lawyer said.

“That is important, unity across society is vital. And what about the undesirables? Anyone questioning any actions of the State is part of a pro-enemy fifth column. They are trying to undermine the military and the Special Military Operation.” 

“As you know, we have arrested everyone carrying out the activities of undesirable organisations. Well, nearly everyone, some managed to escape abroad,” the Lawyer replied. “But, there are still some in the country who engage in propaganda or protest.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich gave the lawyer a stern look, “Are there no Prisons?”

“Plenty of prisons, Sir.” The Lawyer replied.

“And lots of space in them”, the General added, “we have conscripted prisoners to the fight, so now there are empty cells.”

Well, this one is not totally useless, Vladimir Vladimirovich thought. He turned to the Lawyer again, “And the Correctional Colonies? Are they still in operation?”

“They are,” the Lawyer said, “I only wish we had more of them.”

“Plenty of space in Siberia. And the laws, you have amended them already? To be useful in the current situation?”

“We have, Sir,” the Lawyer said. “Discrediting the army is currently punished by five years in jail, while deliberately spreading false information about it, gives you 15 years. And the new law creating the digital draft system will help with the new mobilisation.” 

“Well, you know what to do, apparently there are empty cells in the prisons.” He turned to the General, “and I will decide on the mobilisation soon.” 

“Yes, Sir. Will do, Sir,” they replied.

He waved them off before they could say anything else, and Ivan Ivanovich escorted them out. He overheard them wish Happy Easter to his secretary, who cordially wished them likewise.

“What morons” he muttered, “who cares if it is Easter, I have a country to run. What do they think this is, a Charity!”

Ivan Ivanovich approached his desk, “Sir, they were the last ones for today. Do you need anything else tonight? If not, then I would like to join my family for the celebrations. It is Easter, you know.”

“I do know that. Easter is every year.” Vladimir Vladimirovich said, emphasising the word ‘every’. “Well, go on then, if you must. But back here in the morning, sharp.”

“Thank you, Sir. And although Easter is every year, it is only once a year.” Ivan Ivanovich said disarmingly. “And a Very Happy Easter to you, Sir.” He said as he closed the office door.

“Humbug” Vladimir Vladimirovich muttered, mostly to himself, as there was no one else in the room.

*****

Vladimir Vladimirovich had just retired to his private quarters, and was comfortably sitting by the fire reading some economic report, when something very peculiar happened. The fire suddenly grew, and he saw the face of Boris Nikolayevich in the flames. No doubt about it, it was the face of Boris Nikolayevich, in the flames. It looked slowly around the room, and then straight at him. It seemed to recognise him, smiled, and then disappeared. Vladimir Vladimirovich rubbed his eyes, but the flames were just flames again.

Despite the fire, Vladimir Vladimirovich suddenly felt cold, like someone had opened a window and let freezing winter air into the room. He sat back in his chair, and took a deep breath. The fire was burning, he was sitting in his chair, the report was in his hand, and everything was as it had been before. “Humbug” he said to himself and continued reading the report.

Once he had finished, he put the report down on the side table, and looked at his watch. It was midnight.

Just then he became aware of the fact that someone was singing. The sound seemed to come from somewhere from the bowels of the building, the lower floors or the basement. The singing became a bit louder, and although it was a bit out of tune, he recognised the song, it was the one about Moscow Nights.

The singing came closer, and now he could tell that it was coming from the hall. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and the sound of glass breaking, and the singing stopped. He could not tell for sure, but it sounded like someone was swearing. 

“One of the guards probably, I’ll deduct that from his salary.” Then he heard footsteps coming closer, and the unmistakable clinking of vodka bottles in a plastic bag. And the singing started again. “What the Hell? Are they drunk? I’ll send the lot of them to Siberia!” But before he could even stand up, Boris Nikolayevich walked through the door. Let me be clear, he did not open the door and walk in, he walked, straight through, the door.

It was Boris Nikolayevich, the same face, the same hair, the same manner, same everything, except that he was transparent. Like a ghost. He was still singing, raised his hand for dramatic effect, and blasted out the last chords of the song in a great finale. After a pause, and obviously satisfied with his performance, he looked at Vladimir Vladimirovich.

“Tripped on the stairs. Did you have a new carpet put in? Watch your step when you go down, there’s some glass, or you know...” The ghost uttered, with a bit of a slur.

Vladimir Vladimirovich stared at the apparition, “But you are dead.”

“Indeed I am, “ the ghost replied cheerfully, “how could I be a ghost otherwise?” He sat down on the other chair by the fire. “But Vladimir Vladimirovich, my friend, good to see you! It has been too long. What is it, ten, fifteen years? My memory is not what it used to be. Have a drink, old boy.”

It was then that Vladimir Vladimirovich noticed that the ghost had a bottle of vodka in his hand. A glass materialised from somewhere and the ghost filled it up. “Na Zdorovie” the ghost emptied his glass, and threw it into the fire. “I would offer you a drink, but this is ghost stuff, you would not taste a thing.”

“But, you Are Dead.” Vladimir Vladimirovich repeated.

“Yes, I know I’m dead. You know I’m dead. Everybody knows Boris Nikolayevich is dead. But here I am, visiting you, my old friend.”

Ghost or not, he is obviously drunk, Vladimir Vladimirovich thought. “Well, what do you want?” 

“Me? I want nothing.” The ghost pointed his transparent finger at Vladimir Vladimirovich, “I was sent to warn you.”

“Warn me? Why? Is someone trying to kill me?” He looked hurriedly around the room but there was no one there. “And who sent you?”

“Not so fast, one thing at a time. First, a drink. Na Zdorovie.” and he emptied another glass. “Well, I was at my dacha, and this fellow comes to me, tells me to come visit you,” the Ghost said while he filled another glass.

“A fellow, at your dacha? Who sends ghosts to visit people?”

“I think he was German, spoke funny. Don’t know his name, but the others called him Professor.”

“What others?” Vladimir Vladimirovich started to get a bit irritated at his drunk guest, ghost or not.

“Take it easy, old boy, take it easy. Na Zdorovie. He, this Professor fellow, a nice guy by the way, he has been here, in Moscow. Sometime before the war I think, and his friends too, a weird bunch. But they had some really funny stories.”

“Get to the point.” Vladimir Vladimirovich was really starting to lose patience.

“I will, I will.” The ghost started to pour yet another drink, but the bottle was empty. He threw it away and a new bottle materialised from somewhere. “The thing is, this Professor, and his buddy, what was his name… Fagotto, or something… and the other guy, with the funny eyes, and the Redhead. Oh, she was nice…” he stopped and stared into space for a while with a smile on his face, then he continued, “and there was a cat as well, at least I thought it was a cat.”

“A cat? You are not making any sense.”

“Anyway, they told me to come visit you, and here I am.”

“Visit me? And with a warning?”

“Oh yes. He said to tell you, this Professor fellow: If you do not get your act together, you’ll end up like Boris Nikolayevich. You know, like me.”

“Like you?”

“Yes, like me. Wandering around for all eternity, totally forgotten, no friends, all alone, with an endless supply of vodka.” He looked straight at Vladimir Vladimirovich with profound sadness in his transparent eyes. “Like me, Vladimir Vladimirovich, like me… Na Zdorovie.”

The ghost filled his glass again in silence. “Anyway, you will soon be visited by three Spirits.”

“Spirits? What spirits?”

“Spirits, you know, like me, ghosts.”

“And why would they visit me?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, “said they’ll show you something.”

“Show me, something? What?”

“I don’t know, did not tell me. Listen old boy, I got the sense that this is strictly on a need-to-know basis, and I-did-not-need-to-know. And believe me, you do not want to argue with them, not with this lot.” Then he seemed to remember something, “Oh, I nearly forgot. This Professor fellow, he also told me, to tell you, about Easter. That something really happened two thousand years ago, said he was there. Whatever that means… Na Zdorovie.”

Vladimir Vladimirovich did not understand how the Ghost knew what he had thought about Easter? “And these three Spirits? Who are they? And when…?”

“I don’t know. Tonight, I guess.” The ghost seemed to lighten up, “But, Vladimir Vladimirovich, you should have seen the Redhead. Beautiful. Had a thing on her neck, but otherwise, Perfect. The legs, like a gazelle, and beautiful round hips, and, oh, a perfect pair of…”

“And how will I know they are Spirits?” Vladimir Vladimirovich cut him off.

“Oh you’ll know. They are Spirits. Probably like me, you know, transparent like.”

“Transparent like… now that helps a lot.” 

“Well, anyway. It was nice seeing you,” the Ghost said cheerfully, “I must be off. And don’t worry, if this does not work out for you old boy, you can always join me. We can wander the world together, talk about old times.”

Wandering the world with Boris Nikolayevich’s ghost was definitely not a future that Vladimir Vladimirovich would be looking forward to, then again, the thought of three Spirits visiting him did not fill him with joy either. 

The ghost stood up and walked towards the door. “Three Spirits, Vladimir Vladimirovich, Three Spirits.” Then he went through the door and was gone.

Vladimir Vladimirovich heard him walking in the hall, followed by the constant clinking of vodka bottles, and then after a pause, a faint,

“Na Zdorovie!”

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Dec 29 2021 New Russian edition

Once upon a time, not that long ago, actually quite recently, in a country, not that far away, there lived a King. Well, not really a king, he was not called a King or an Emperor or even a Tsar, but anyway he was the guy calling the shots, so he might as well have been a King. So, for the sake of simplicity, in this fairy tale, we’ll call him a King.

He did not inherit the country from his father, or from anyone for that matter, far from it, he had to fight for it. And there were lots of others who would have liked to be the king as well, so it was a long and hard fight, but in the end he won and became the King.

There had of course been lots of kings in the country before him, but since most of the previous kings had not been, what you would call ‘good kings’, the people in the country had not been very happy in the past.

In fact, some people were not happy with the new king either and wanted to change things, some of those unhappy people even wanted to depose the King. That was of course not acceptable to the King, and he had some of those people thrown into the dungeons, ‘where they belong’. But he could not catch them all, as some had moved to live in other countries, and he had to find other solutions for them.

As is traditional in fairy tales, the King sent his hunters after these people, in disguise and in true cloak and dagger style, of course. The hunters managed to get rid of some of them, some with poison, not in fairy tale poisoned apples, but in tea or on doorknobs, and some with other unpleasant means. Some even had to be poisoned a few times first, and when that did not work, had to be thrown into the darkest dungeons.

In this country there was a kind of a mirror, not an ordinary mirror, but a magic one. When someone looked into it, it showed them the truth from the past and sometimes from the present as well. As the previous kings, especially one of them, had not been very nice to the people, usually what people saw was not very pleasant and it made them sad, but they knew it was the truth.

Looking into the mirror, people found out about what had really happened in the past, and they remembered their parents and their grandparents and the old stories they had told them. When they joined together what they themselves remembered, and what their parents and grandparents had told them, and what the mirror showed them, a new and true memory was born. Because of this the people called this mirror Memorial.

The King did not like this mirror, because it showed people that the previous kings had not been good kings, and if that was true, they might think that he was not a good king either. He wanted the people to think that he was a Good King; not a bad and dark one, but Good, and as the saying goes, White as Snow.

So, the King decided to get rid of the mirror, but there was a problem, how to get rid of a magic mirror? One cannot put a magic mirror in prison, or poison it, or break it; so the King decided to ban the mirror and told everyone that no-one can look into it anymore.

And to this day, the King rules the country from his throne, and the people cannot see the past by looking into the magic mirror. And it looks like all they can do is work, like the seven dwarfs in the mines looking hopelessly for gold and precious stones, and live unhappily ever after, or at least until they get a new King.

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Memorial: Russia’s civil rights group uncovering an uncomfortable past

Alexa, read a book

Dec 28 2021 The BBC

Artificial Intelligence enthusiasts rage about AI and the brave new world it will bring, but looks like it is still more Artificial than Intelligent.

Maybe if AI developers spent more time reading books than shooting zombies or slaying weird creatures on computers and game consoles, they would have encountered (and just maybe; remembered) the Three Laws of Robotics.

First Law
A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Second Law
A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

Third Law
A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

These laws were devised by Isaac Asimov and can be found in his 1950 book “I, Robot”, which, fittingly for this story, can be ordered from, of all places: Amazon.

Alexa tells 10-year-old girl to touch live plug with penny

Online school assignment

May 11th, 2020 – during the Covid-19 pandemic

Read the story and answer the multiple choice question below.

“Once upon a time, relatively not so long ago, on a far corner of an average galaxy, not too far from a smallish star, there was an ordinary planet. Not too big and not too small, not too cold and not too hot, nothing special, just an ordinary twelve-in-a-dozen-planet. And on this planet there were, among other things, seas and lakes and rivers and forests and fields and deserts and mountains and valleys and plains.

And this ordinary planet was full of life. Everywhere there lived all kinds of things and creatures. There were big ones and small ones, and long ones and short ones. Some lived in the seas and never came on land, and some lived on land and walked around, and some climbed in the trees and some could fly in the sky. There were even some who lived underground, and some who could walk on land and swim in the seas.

Some creatures ate grasses and different fruits and other plants, and some creatures hunted and ate the other creatures. For example, if there were too many creatures who ate the round purple fruit, then some other creatures ate some of those creatures, so they would not eat all the fruit, and there would be some round purple fruit left for the other creatures as well.

On this otherwise ordinary planet, there was one special thing that made this planet somewhat less ordinary. That was one type of creature who was different from all the others. These creatures understood the whole system of the planet and knew how all things worked, and they looked after the planet and fixed things if something needed fixing.

They lived on land, and could not fly, and though they could swim, they could not live in the seas. But they were clever and they could build things that could move on land, and things that could fly, and things that could float on the seas. And with these things they could travel to all corners of the planet to check that everything was all right.

The materials for all these things these creatures got from the land and the sea. They could dig holes in the ground and even under the sea to get minerals and materials, but they were always careful not to take too much, and they made sure they did not harm the other creatures or plants with their digging.

And they built all kinds of things to make the planet better for them and for the other creatures, they even built things that made other things, and buildings were these things could make the other things.

These clever creatures lived in groups, and the groups joined together to form bigger groups, and together they all formed one really big group, that included all the clever creatures on the planet. They chose leaders to lead these groups, and every creature could say who should be the leader. But they were really clever, and they had a system where they kept the choice of every single creature secret, only the end result was known to everyone.

And since being a leader is hard work for any creature, even a clever one, they had a system where leaders would not have to be in this hard job for too long. Some jobs were so hard that they chose a new leader when the planet had gone around the star once, but some jobs were easier and they let the planet go around the star twice, or four or even six times, before the leader needed a rest.

Other jobs were easier, and you could stay in one job all your life, or change jobs when you wanted to, you just had to have the knowledge and the skills to do the job. And there needed to be someone for every job, since every job on the planet was important. Every job, however small, was part of something bigger and needed to be done, so all other jobs could be done.

The creatures were taught all kinds of knowledge from an early age, and you could choose what you wanted to know more about, and learn about things you had not heard of yet. Some creatures learned how to grow things, some how to make things, some how to fix things, and some how to use things, and so on; everyone learned something important about the planet and how it worked.

But first, before everything else, every single clever creature learned one very important thing, which was the basis of all existence, and the foundation that all other learning built on. And that thing was that they were the guardians on the planet, and they were responsible for it.

So, they knew they had to take care of all the other creatures and the lakes and the rivers and the seas and the forests and the fields and deserts and the plains and the mountains and the valleys and all things on the planet, so every plant and creature could live and everything stayed in balance.

And as far as we know, the descendants of these clever creatures still keep guarding the planet, and will live on it happily ever after.”

Multiple choice question:

How can you tell that the above story is a fairy tale?

A The characters in the story are imaginary and literally out of this world.

B This is obviously science fiction, but with no science and a lot of fiction.

C The characters are not maximising extraction industry profits.

D The political system in the story is totally non-partisan.

E The educational system described could not possibly produce intelligent beings.

F The story begins with “Once upon a time” and ends with “happily ever after”.

More than one choice may be correct.

We will discuss this in class once the pandemic is over and schools will open again, hopefully in about four or five or six months.

NOTE. This will not be a group presentation due to the social distancing measures, which will likely still be in place once we meet, so you will present your answers individually from a safe distance.

REMEMBER! Write your answers down somewhere safe, otherwise you may forget it and have to do this task again sometime in the fall, or in 2021.

UPDATE: … or maybe we will discuss this in 2022.

Intelligent life in the Universe?

May 5th, 2020 - during the Covid-19 pandemic

A pandemic is raging, the world is in lockdown, the death toll is getting higher, and some so called leaders are still calling the disease just a normal flu.

Climate change is threatening the whole planet and according to some worst case scenarios, the very existence of the human race, but on the whole we do not seem too concerned. At least we are not doing nearly enough about it.

Wars are raging around the world, and producing immense suffering, and countless refugees, but we do not seem to have the backbone to do anything about them.

We still have enough nuclear weapons in our stockpiles to assure mutual destruction, if someone decides to push the button.

Politicians seem to be more interested in staying on top of whatever dung-heap they happen to be on, than talking about real problems in society, let alone solving them.

The UN has estimated that we could end hunger in the world, and it would cost less than half a percent of global GDP per year. But though much progress has been made, there is still hunger in the world.

You get the point, we and the planet we inhabit, are really screwed up.

Well, the other day a friend mentioned that now that, during the pandemic lockdown, when he has too much time on his hands, he was just browsing the net and found the SETI Institute; for the uninitiated that is the Search for Extra Terrestial Intelligence. He is actually planning to join the search for intelligent alien life.

My first reaction was, “what a waste of time”. I mean, the way we run things on this planet, you can’t really say there is intelligent life here. And if not here, why would there be any anywhere else.

But then, I thought about it a bit more, and changed my mind, at least partly. Of course there is intelligent life in the universe, but we will never find it, so it is still a waste of time to try look for it.

I know, there is a paradox here. There is intelligent life in the universe, but we will not find it, even though we have proof that intelligent alien life exist.

The best proof that there is intelligent life in the universe, is that we have not found it.

If I was an Intelligent Alien Being, and happened to be in the neighbourhood, and took one look at the planet and us humans, I definitely would not want to have any kind of contact with us.

I mean seriously, would You?