Vladimir Orlov - Danilov the Violist

But the Andes were long overdue. Danilov saw his secret spot and began to descend. It was a quiet place, in the mountains, by the sea, but the locals didn't like it for some reason. Right beneath him stretched a landing strip of some five kilometers in length, and around it on the deserted rocky plateau, in the mossy brush, could be seen depictions of strange birds and beasts. Danilov landed and went to his cave. The landing strip was still usable, no worse than some concrete ones, the rock had not yet crumbled. Danilov had set it up during the period of his interest in aluminum wings. Even with the wings he hadn't needed it to land, he was just showing off. He had dragged in the rocks, piling them on top of one another, and then smoothing them out; and -- he was ashamed to recall it now -- he landed on the strip like a plane with a roar and wind, and lowering landing gear from his armpits. He had also decorated the plateau all around with wild pictures of figures and faces, and added ornamental paths -- Danilov had been interested in Indian primitive art back then, too. A little later scientists appeared on the plateau and noisily discovered the supposed Inca art work. Other scientists did not agree and insisted that the strip and the art were the work of aliens from outer space. Danilov read these reports with amusement. However, adherents of the aliens theory were ground to dust by a perceptive professor, who, for his efforts, was eternally cursed by all children, including Misha Muravlyov.

Danilov approached the cave, to which the entrance was blocked. He pushed aside the forty-ton granite block with his shoulder. Inside it was dark, damp, and smelled of bat droppings. Danilov chased away the bats with a stick, dusted the stone ledge, spread a jaguar skin on it, and lay down.

He had to make a decision, the necessity of which tormented him. Oh, if he could just put it off, to some vague, future time and forget it all... But he couldn't. Danilov took out the shiny rectangle that was his summons, and the crimson sign appeared on it immediately, gloomily illuminating the cave as it reminded Danilov of Time X. He put the summons in his vest pocket, sighed, and shut his eyes. He felt sorry for himself. Why were they bugging him? There were individuals worse than he -- and they went on living, and no one bothered them...

If he could only understand what he had done to elicit Time X. And who made that appointment. "Ah, why bother guessing?" thought Danilov with a sense of doom. "Whether I figure it out or not, the outcome will be the same..."

He was nervous and sad. He regretted his incomplete life. But as he mourned himself, Danilov used a corner of his mind to imagine the list of crimes of which he would be accused. That in itself was interesting. But more importantly, if he knew the list, he could undertake some plan, think of something, and somehow wrap the judges and the executioners -- even if they were omnipotent -- around his little finger...

"I wonder which paragraphs of the agreement they'll bring up?" thought Danilov. There was a contract between him and the Chancery of The Order. The chief of the Chancery had signed in yellow incombustible ink, and in accordance with the law, Danilov had signed with blood from his vertical blue vein. There were a hundred and three paragraphs in the contract and no loopholes. Primarily they listed the duties and responsibilities of Danilov, hereinafter referred to as a demon on contract, but they did guarantee some of his rights. When the decision was made to sign an agreement, Danilov and many of his friends considered it a liberal and generous decision. Danilov's willfullness and merry pranks could have been punished quite seriously even back then, but everything was settled by the agreement instead.

It should be mentioned here that Danilov was a demon only on his father's side. On his mother's he had descended from humans, in particular, humans from the Upper Volga city of Danilov. Danilov was an infant when his mother died and his father was exiled permanently to Taurus for his sinful earthly love and a certain spirit of independence and individuality. On Taurus his job was blowing up gas storms. Danilov did not correspond with him and had never even met him. They were not allowed to learn the least bit about each other. Paragraph b of Article 17 required Danilov to fly past Taurus with his eyes shut and with cotton in his ears.

Danilov might have spent his whole life in a small town, where he would have grown turnips and onions in his garden, and ended up resting in peace like a good bourgeois under the poplars and birches of the Danilov Cemetery -- for in human terms he was born at the end of the eighteenth century. However, influential friends of his father took pity on the innocent infant and arranged a different fate for him. They brought Danilov in wet diapers from earth to the heavenly nurseries. And then they found him a spot in the lyceum of the Chancery of Knowledge. The lyceum had a technological bias. And Danilov moved along the golden path of a young demon, plucking flowers of pleasure along the way.

He led a distracted and brilliant life. But his position was dubious, and in all his papers he was listed as illegitimate. Some conservatives, insensitive to the rules of etiquette, would sniff the air when Danilov was around and whisper in irritation: "Fie! I smell the blood of a human!"

He was not trusted, and therefore he could not expect any great promotions.

And basically, Danilov himself was responsible for any such suspicions. As a graduate of the lyceum of the Chancery of Knowledge, he should have known everything, felt everything, seen everything, and, as a result, despised and hated everything human. But those were the ideal demands -- not all students graduated cum laude. Some blockheads and nitwits were handed diplomas with a dismissive shrug, the expense for their educations regretted -- not to mention the fact that they were so understaffed. Danilov was not considered a total waste, but as a scatterbrain who would never rise to the pinnacles of demonic science.

Actually, Danilov was a talented student and had quickly learned to know all, feel all, and see all in space, time, and the depths of souls: everything -- past, present, eternal, backward and forward, and all at the same instant! But this capability depressed and bored him, and he developed migraines. It seemed much more honest to Danilov not to use this capability, and instead to discover everything for himself, the way humans did -- with curiosity, perseverance, and skill. With the capability to be awed by every detail. Think how boring it would be to live, and know it all ahead of time!

So Danilov pretended to be a simpleton with limited means of perception. His knowledge consisted of what he learned himself, sometimes from the higher spheres, sometimes on the level taught at the high school in the town, Danilov. So as not to irritate anyone, Danilov wholeheartedly studied figure flying and music. He was sent to competitions and Olympic Games for unearthly talents. He was superior to many, won titles and prizes, and almost turned professional. While still at the lyceum, he was often called "our pride." In other words, Danilov didn't really have to worry about doing well in his studies.

It was harder for Danilov to deal with the idea that he was supposed to despise and hate everything. In theory he despised everything desperately. How he hated everything! But in practice, hating humanity gave Danilov pains in his stomach and somewhere near the gall bladder. However, Danilov did not seek relief from doctors, he wanted to overcome the problem himself. As he did his classwork he joined zealously in groups who prepared earthquakes, natural disasters, and bank robberies. He learned a few things, but the pains in his stomach got worse and he felt sick. The lab instructors were not satisfied with Danilov. He was pretty good at robbery, but he didn't spew out enough ash and rock from craters into the surrounding countryside. The teacher even threatened to send Danilov with other young demon dullards to do practical coursework of spoiling salads and main courses in the lunchrooms of the city of Saransk.