Vladimir Orlov - Danilov the Violist

"Keep well, Karmadosha," Danilov said emotionally. "Smoom sailing!"

"To the devil!" said Karmadon, and he went out onto the landing and vanished into thin air.

10

Danilov went back into the kitchen and took a sip of cognac as he reflected. "Why did I call him Karmadosha?" Danilov was upset. "That wasn't right. He's not Karmadosha to me now." Danilov felt embarrassed. He wrote off this weakness at the moment of parting to alcohol on an empty stomach, and then the Sofia saddle of lamb, which practically made him comatose. But the feelings of shame and awkwardness remained. Danilov felt like a pathetic provincial hick who had shed a tear of awe before his influential guest. More than once Danilov had wanted to tell Karmadon about Time X, to ask for his advice and even his support, but it was not polite to start talking business right away with a guest. What if Karmadon knew about Time X? Danilov ran through their conversation and decided that it was unlikely. And was it really for Danilov to beg?

In the morning Danilov called Natasha. He apologized for not having called earlier, berated himself, and when he heard her sweet voice, he invited her to Carmen with Pogosyan that evening.

"Natasha, I'll leave a ticket for you in the the administrative office, and I'll find you at intermission -- that is, if you'd care to come."

Before dealing with Klavdia's list, Danilov decided to stick Karmadon's case, jacket, hat, and wrench in the storeroom; the things weren't his, and it was not for him to throw them out. He found the Mayak station by feel on his Japanese transistor, and not without some trepidation, he picked up the folder of music by Pereslegin. However, the news coming over Mayak prevented Danilov from paying serious attention to the music. "All right, I'll look at it tonight," Danilov decided. First there was news about chess, then figure skating. And then the announcer informed them of events three hundred kilometers from the coast of central Africa, on the island of Principe, belonging to Portugal. Professor Cheevers of Oxford had flown out to Principe immediately and called the capture of a blue bull by Principe peasants a major advance for science. He claimed that finding such mythical creatures as the Abominable Snowman and the Loch Ness Monster would be less sensational than this bull. According to Western press agencies, the announcer continued, the blue bull was flown to Madrid this morning.

Danilov felt uneasy.

In the meantime the mike was passed to Yuri Strannikov, commentator on global politics. He talked about the labor conditions of Principe's peasants, who grew quinine trees, and he expressed delight in the courage and skill of those simple peasants who caught the gigantic bull. And this at a time, noted Strannikov, when famous expeditions, equipped by large expenditures of dollars and pounds, could not even find the Abominable Snowman, Nessie the leviathan, or anything else, for that matter. Then he moved on to the Spanish millionaire Burnabito, the owner of suspender factories. He was also considered a sports magnate, and his money supported soccer clubs, naturally not without profit -- for Burnabito bought the best professional soccer players from Europe and South America. But Burnabito's "foot drain" had amounted to nothing more than stamping all his feet in place -- Real was knocked out of the European Cup race once again. So that insatiable Burnabito decided to try one more trick. He bought the gigantic blue bull for three million dollars. The bull, incidentally, was peaceful and trusted simple people. But the ruthless knights of profit didn't care about science or public opinion. It was announced in Madrid that this evening there would be a grand corrida with the participation of the Principe bull. The corrida was widely advertised and the tickets cost ten times the usual price...

"So," thought Danilov, "Karmadon has turned up." According to Danilov's calculations, he had become the object of the Principe peasants' and Professor Cheevers's attention two days ago. Even though he had appeared on Earth only last night. Karmadon, like Danilov, had fully mastered the conditional line of time, and was using it to extend his vacation time on Earth. Danilov was certain that later Karma-don would ask him to mark his time of arrival on Earth on the time sheet as the first hour of this day. "Fine," Danilov decided. "I will. And seal it. But why didn't he warn me? It's kind of creepy..."

One way or another, Danilov had to find out what was going on, so he switched himself into the demon state. Otherwise, later they'd ask him what he had been thinking of. In an instant he was warming himself in Madrid on Puerta del Sol Square. The city had just awakened but was already considerably agitated. The blue bull called from bloody posters. Its face was vicious, foam-flecked, and its horns terrifying. Crowds filled the street. Halfway to the arena at the Cybela Fountain Danilov saw Gypsy women dancing the gitanna to castanets in honor of the Principe bull. Danilov stopped to watch and almost forgot about Karmadon. The arena was a madhouse! The crowds seethed. Madrid's scientific luminaries had concluded that the bull was authentic, truly from Principe; there was no adulteration, the bull's hormones and pituitary glands were normal. The bull's dimensions and weight were announced, and this disappointed Danilov a bit. However, Danilov brightened at the scientific luminaries' description of the bull's procreative apparatus. "That's no bull," thought Danilov respectfully, "that's an animal!"

The arena itself was empty. Danilov looked around and in a separate stall on a pile of hay he found the Principe bull. A gilt tablet affixed to the bars read: "Dr. Burnabito. Miguel the Bull." Danilov was surprised to find Miguel the Bull was asleep. And even asleep, he was fine, smooth, strong -- much bigger than a bison or a buffalo. But Miguel wasn't as big as an elephant. That meant that Karmadon had some sense of size and objectivity.

"Is he sleeping or pretending?" Danilov had his doubts. A straw arose from the pile and tickled Miguel's nose. Miguel did not twitch a nostril. Danilov summoned a gadfly from the African plains. Though vicious, the fly did not arouse the bull. Danilov found a banderilla in the arena storeroom and tried it on the bull. Miguel's lips twitched. Well, well!

He's really asleep. So much for Karmadon's attempts to improve his willpower! Some ace! The minute he relaxed, he conked out. What else could he expect after so many years of sleepless dreaming? Danilov found a blanket in the storeroom and tucked in Miguel.

Now Danilov could relax. Karmadon obviously was not going to wake up soon; which meant he couldn't cause any trouble. "And this evening, we'll see," thought Danilov and switched himself back into human state.

11

In Moscow, Klavdia's business awaited Danilov. "I'm making naval-style borshch for Voinov," Klavdia said over the phone. "You haven't forgotten? We're going to the futecons to reinstate my number?"

"I haven't," Danilov said with a sigh.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Eight more hours before I see Natasha," thought Danilov, not sure whether he was happy or sad.

In the break of their daytime rehearsal Danilov got the newspapers and saw a small article on the capture of the blue bull. "I wonder how he's doing," worried Danilov. "Is he asleep or awake?" He quietly moved the link on his bracelet, and his senses were in Madrid. Miguel the Bull was sleeping, covered with the blanket. The crowds around the arena continued to build. Army units were pulling up. This was one of the latest bits of news: An hour ago the famous boxer Phil Kilius flew into Madrid. Phil announced at the airport that he would kill the blue bull from Principe with one blow, right in front of the audience. He refused to discuss his financial demands for the time being.