Vladimir Orlov - Danilov the Violist

"You're wrong," Karmadon said, with sadness again. "It can't be extinguished in us. It's part of our profession, of our demonic nature. After all, unfortunately, we are the spirits of knowledge. Have you forgotten? Yes, I'm practical, a demon of action, a realist who despises thinkers and experts, but I'm greedy. And even without willing it, I absorb sensual and practical knowledge! And it may destroy me! Maybe it will be more painful for me than for those whose discoveries are of an analytical nature! You're right, they began by being impotent. But what if I become impotent! If I weaken and dry up!"

"You just didn't get any sleep on Bootes. That's all."

"No, Danilov, it's from knowledge. Knowledge!"

Danilov realized that there was no convincing Karmadon. Danilov enjoyed an argument, even a heated one. He could argue on many subjects, including ones he knew nothing about, especially with Muravlyov and the woodwinds from the orchestra. But he did not want to argue now. Suddenly Danilov was left cold by Karmadon's anxieties; these demonic doubts had nothing to do with him, just as the complaints of Muscovites about crowding in the streetcar had nothing to do with a reindeer herder.

Danilov brought out some cognac and the Northern Lights liqueur. Just in case, he offered Karmadon the cognac, but his guest's taste had not changed.

"Yes, Danilov," said Karmadon, "you and I live by our senses! We are not among those who love exact sciences and the thought processes of dry heads. On Bootes I was entrusted with an entire civilization. I had to stir it up, and I did. I turned its course, I myself don't yet know which way. But I turned it smoothly and even gracefully; nothing creaked and nothing broke. As a craftsman, I'm pleased with myself. But the toll it took!"

Here Danilov almost reminded Karmadon that he was speaking of things that he should keep to himself. Especially in a friendly conversation.

"I had to study their civilization through and through, to understand it. Their philosophies, which are more voluminous and riskier than Earth ones, as well as their habits, which are stronger even than their philosophies! I confused their dreams, but not in a slapdash way, and I added no temptations -- they're tired of them! No, I had to create a fresh philosophy, basing it on the latest data from the exact sciences, so that the Glirins would believe it. And then permeate their dreams with that philosophy! How's that! But I was poisoning myself with knowledge. It exhausted meand tormented me. That's what did it, not the lack of sleep! And what next? For you can learn such things that will not only make you impotent and indifferent, but also make you ask: What for? Why did I confuse the Booteians' dreams? Why me? Why should I be immortal?"

Karmadon stopped talking. Danilov told himself that if he knew everything inside out to infinity, life would be a bore. He might be willing to know everything about the past, but not all archives were accessible to him. Music was his love, and he could love only by inspiration, not by calculation. Love demands mystery, exaggeration, fantasy, amazement -- what did Danilov want with the love of cool reason? Cool reason is most often deluded. As a rule it does not get what it wants. It gets something, but not what it wants.

For the time being knowledge did not terrify him in the least. On the contrary, it was part of his joys, his suffering, his love, and his music! Knowledge made it resonate. However, Karmadon's words depressed Danilov: What if Karmadon's fears were not baseless? What if the time would come when Danilov would tire of life and music, like the violinist Zemsky? What if knowledge brought destruction?

"My brother, New Margarit," said Karmadon, "became a thinker, and you should see what he looks like now!"

Karmadon frowned. New Margarit used to be an athlete.

"I feel sorry for him ... but New Margarit says that the sensation of eternity is sweet. What do you think eternity is?"

"Well..." mused Danilov. "The sensation of eternity must be when what has occurred still exists for you and the future has already occurred..."

"Well, let's say it is. Would you find that sensation sweet?"

"What has occurred can remain," Danilov said. "But I have no need of the future already occurring."

"Then what do you and I need with the sensation of eternity?"

"Why reject it outright?" Danilov said. "What if someday you want to feel eternity?"

"You go feel it!" Karmadon said in a huff.

"What's the matter with me?" Danilov thought. "Don't I want to feel eternity? In the last few seconds before Time X! When Karmadon has talked himself out, and feels better, I'll get a word in about Time X."

"Oh, Danilov," Karmadon said. "What am I supposed to do now -- change my motto? Nothing in excess! Hah! So much for that! And yet I was calm in the certainty that those words were mine... Am I going to become petty? Maybe my brain will turn to mush? How horrible!"

"It'll pass," Danilov said and waved his hand.

"This ... Cynthia," Karmadon inquired. "Is she attractive at least?"

"She's not to my taste. But many find her attractive."

Karmadon looked down, pulled the Northern Lights to him, and emptied it, drinking straight from the bottle. Liquid refilled the bottle immediately. Danilov, sensing the perfect moment, sheepishly told Karmadon about the lacquered card with Time X on it and how cleverly Valentin Sergeyevich had handed it to him. The Albani viola did not enter the story. Danilov was aware that if Karmadon still were the man he had appeared to be on the first day of his vacation, the ace with a special assignment, it would have been impossible to bring up Time X at all.

"What?" Karmadon said, looking up.

Danilov repeated his story.

"Well, well," Karmadon said. "Who's this Valentin Sergey-evich? Some flea, I'll bet... You're in the Chancery for the Other World, so ..." Karmadon thought out loud. "Over there, I know ... He furrowed his brow, indicating intense thought processes. He asked: "Incidentally, you haven't done anything?"

"No, no," Danilov said with a shrug. "Nothing like that... a few trifles, but -- "

"Honest?" Karmadon asked sternly.

"Honest," nodded Danilov, but not very firmly.

"All right," Karmadon said with a nod. "Don't despair ... you're a talented demon! I know very well... And New Margarit... he's high up now..."

Karmadon had some more Northern Lights. He was kind to Danilov now, he pitied him the way he pitied himself, taking Danilov for a victim of knowledge.

"We'll rescue you!" Karmadon struck the table with the side of his hand.

19

Upon awakening, Danilov discovered Karmadon working out with the dumbbells. Karmadon was stripped to the waist.

At six, when Danilov came back from the theater, he simply did not recognize Karmadon. Karmadon, it turned out, in order to bolster his spirits, had not only worked out with dumbbells, but also jogged in the direction of the Sheremetyev Palace, once again with the violinist Zemsky and the plumber Kolya, to whom he had taken a liking. Then Karmadon and Kolya and Zemsky wandered around, and even had a few adventures, albeit minor ones. Now Zemsky and Kolya were drinking at Danilov's house, spreading out greasy fried fish on his sheet music. Danilov went straight to the kitchen with the intention of getting plates for the zakuski. But he hesitated. All he had in the refrigerator was a can of Kuriles fish in its own juice. He had wanted to treat Karmadon on his last day of vacation in a manner befitting Muscovite hospitality. But he probably did not have the right to spend official funds on the violinist Zemsky and especially the plumber Kolya. Then Karmadon appeared in the kitchen and scattered Danilov's doubts, saying:

"What are you worrying about the plates for? Today is my treat!"