Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Svyatoslav Loginov

I’ve got to get you out to people and all… – So, what… – Ilya Ilych braved the question, – those who died before, friends, relatives, they are all here? – Not so fast, – frowned Afonya. – You’ll need some preparation there, trust me. – You stay with me, that’s the main thing, and I’ll take care of everything. Afanasiy hunted around in his pouch, pulled out some small change, grabbed Ilya Ilych by the wrist, and called out in bright, Gagarin-like tones: – Off we go! On the house!.. *** The small beacon kept beeping, incessant as a dumb phone line. It had turned on yesterday and hasn’t stopped since, not even for a moment. Beep-beep- beep… – the line is busy, but the signal just keeps on coming. Even at night, in her sleep, she could hear the series of short beeps. Ludmila forced herself to open her eyes and stared hatefully into the low, rough-hewn ceiling. “What does it want? Why does it keep beeping? I already know, I do… I am not deaf, I heard it last night and immediately understood…” She could turn the beacon off, slam it like an overzealous alarm clock, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not because she was loathe to spend the few lumies, she just couldn’t do it, that’s all.

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