Vladimir Orlov - Danilov the Violist

This upset Danilov and he tried harder. But he didn't get any better. And instead of hating humans, Danilov felt pity and even goodwill towards them. This was dangerous! If he kept it up, he would be disqualified and turned into a cherub! And what could be worse or more shameful? Besides, Danilov didn't like going around barefoot. But then he got lucky: He was sent to the Group for the Struggle for Women s Souls.

Even before that, Danilov had been drawn to beautiful women, and now, disguising his sympathetic feelings for them as scorn and hatred -- otherwise no scholarship! -- Danilov very quickly brought eighteen warm and passionate female souls into the school storehouse. And he left behind dozens of earthly beauties reaching out for him with desperate pleas. Even demons from the fast crowd -- who were diligent students, except for the fact that they copied horoscopes from Danilov -- envied him. "How do you get them?" they asked. "What could be easier?" Danilov replied casually. "Just give them golden dreams!" "On their silky lashes, you mean?" "Well, if you want to put it that way."

Danilov finished the lyceum and he got called in by the Chancery for Entrapping Souls and by the Directorate of Female Reveries. However, he was soon taken into the inner Chancery of Pleasures and entrusted with creating fireworks and attractions for departmental balls in the Seventh Level of Pleasures. The position was not an important one, but it was fine for Danilov. He worked, played the lute, and didn't care. Influential ladies looked upon him with favor, and there were moments when Danilov felt he was smiled upon by fortune. And suddenly -- bam! His life changed abruptly.

The Order remained the same, but something was expunged from its bowels. New brooms swept all the subsections, all the chanceries, all the Nine Layers (which is how Danilov now called that world). They reexamined documents and personnel files and they came across Danilov's green folder. "Ah-ha!" exploded in the commission. Ancient suspicions surfaced, flowed into the atmosphere, took on solidity, precipitated onto calf s skin, and were laid down in the form of a fat volume on the commission's desk. Danilov was subjected to analyses. It was recalled that his father had been a Voltarian. A decision was made, among many others: Danilov, as an inferior demon, was to be sent to Earth to live permanently among humans.

Danilov's Earth age was determined to be seven, and in 1943 (according to the human calendar) he was dropped into a Moscow orphanage. There one of the teachers quickly discovered that Danilov had a pretty good ear, and the gifted lad, skinny and shy, was accepted by the music boarding school. That was followed by the conservatory, then a radio orchestra, and then the theater orchestra. Since Danilov's crime was not his fault -- the guilt had been his father's -- Danilov was allowed to retain many demonic privileges and attributes. The only restriction was on flying to the Nine Layers -- he could do it only rarely and not for long periods. And only with special permission. He was still recognized in the Nine Layers and asked in whispers to tell the latest Earth jokes. But many regarded him already as an alien from the other side, a demon from The Other World. That's what they called Earth in all their documents and conversations -- The Other World, or sometimes That Other World. And now Danilov was under the auspices of the Chancery of the Other World.

At first they didn't expect much from him, but by the time Danilov was at the conservatory and then on the radio, he got all sorts of stupid instructions from the Chancery with greater frequency. The sluggish bureaucrats above were dissatisfied with Danilov. They pointed out that he was of little benefit to them, because he caused little harm to people. Danilov, against his better judgment, had to take up such minor acts of vileness as radio interference, divorces, and snow avalanches. But he limited the unpleasant consequences to people he considered bad. And he was called on the carpet for that, too. Then, in his annual report, Danilov blamed his faults on the fact that he did not receive hazardous-duty pay from the Chancery. The Chancery responded with a question about which hazard he had in mind: his own inner hazard, the hazard felt by humans in his presence, or the hazards of his environment? Danilov gave it some thought and said he meant all three. He demanded a triple portion of milk, which was the usual hazardous-duty supplement. He was told he was wrong but that the question would be looked into. For four years they corresponded about milk, and for four years Danilov did nothing. Finally the milk was refused him, because laboratory studies by a learned commission determined that Danilov had a low inner-hazard level. However, with reference to the hazards of the environment, they decided to send him unfiltered apple cider to help keep up his strength. Once again they expected action from Danilov, and once again they shouted at him. Then Danilov shot off a nervous epistle to the Chancery. He announced that he had been trained to deal with spiritual values and true knowledge and not to create storms and scenes, which could be better done anyway by petty, uneducated spirits. The Chief of the Chancery took Danilov's words as a personal rebuke and grew so furious he smashed the office furniture and threatened to burn up Danilov in the molten bowels of the Earth.

Now, this really scared Danilov. He lay low and waited for punishment. He did not want to appeal for help -- either to his acquaintances or his society ladies. But the unexpected occurred. He was offered the agreement.

Danilov didn't believe it. He thought that they were mocking him. But he was called into the Office of The Order and three copies were placed right into his anxious hands.

The wise theoreticians who examined Danilov's case came to the conclusion that all his deviations were caused by nothing other than his ambivalent position. In the past few years, the theoreticians said, Demon Danilov had been living and working in the dark. That is, Danilov had no idea who he was -- demon, human, some unknown creature, or the devil knew what. These last observations were not set down on paper, of course. Only humans tend to credit devils with great knowledge, while demons hold devils and their educational system -- in fact, all their systems -- in very low esteem. The theoreticians' conclusion was this: Sign a contract with Danilov to retain him at the level of demonhood, but consider him from then on as a demon on contract.

Of course, theoreticians are capable of recommending the greatest nonsense, and not all their suggestions are taken seriously. However, Danilov was lucky, and as he later learned, this is why: Yes, he was guilty of many violations, the authorities felt. But in Nine Layers he was known not as an evil transgressor but as a ne'er-do-well. And what kind of organization doesn't have its ne'er-do-wells? Further, Danilov was acknowledged as a sweet and charming ne'er-do-well, especially by the society ladies. He did violate rules, but he didn't make any statements denouncing the Nine Layers, he didn't criticize, he didn't sing arias, like his father, the Voltarian. Ne'er-do-wells, even wild ones, sometimes made model demons later on.

But no one told Danilov all this. He was scolded and humiliated, made to swear that he would give up his irresponsible ways. Danilov gladly swore. He tried to look responsible and reliable. They signed the agreement, and informed the Chancery of The Other World. Article 3 demanded that Danilov always know which state he was in -- human or demonic. At the warehouse Danilov signed for a silver bracelet with a "sky-Earth" system. Danilov never took off the bracelet, not even in the steam baths on Sandumy, and if in a dark alley some mugger, even one armed with a gun, wanted Danilov's bracelet, it's unlikely he would get it.