Igor Eliseev - One-Two

I have only fragmentary memories of our former life. Everyday routine accelerates time, letting it flow away and be lost. However, I remember, one winter we were standing in the tunnel, and a passerby, looking like an ordinary guy who came out of the crowd, thrust a fifty ruble banknote into my hand. By the evening we already had four fifty ruble bills. Furthermore, in the daylight people came to us and offered to exchange paper money for small change, giving us extra payment. We were literally shining with happiness, as we had an opportunity to earn more – five, ten, or sometimes twenty times as much as usual; and it didn’t even come to our minds that there was a reason for such generosity (Monetary reform of 1991 in the USSR – exchange of large denomination banknotes carried out in the USSR in January-April, 1991. Exchange of the withdrawn notes was followed by essential restrictions: • Short deadlines of exchange – three days from January 23 to January 25 (Wednesday to Friday). • No more than 1000 rubles per one person; the possibility to exchange the bills beyond that limit was considered by special commissions until the end of March, 1991. The reform resulted in a loss of trust of the population in the government’s actions). Well, when the supervisor came, he just got furious and tore all the large denomination bills into shreds, muttering:

“Dumbasses, another time I’ll tear you up.”

Taking away all our collected small change and pushing away one of the cripples, he poured out of the tunnel. Same as his deceased predecessor, the pug, Compass Legs couldn’t understand the basics: there’s nothing great in humiliating those who are on the receiving end. “What can I say,” after being knocked down, the cripple grumbled dimly, expressing everyone’s opinion: “Foolish is as foolish does.”

By a twist of fate, we turned out to be in a special environment, the special environment where things can be seen most clearly. The tunnel was our auditorium, with daily classes in psychology and philosophy. We secretly watched people reckless, sly, rejecting all the best created by previous generations in pursuit of a better life: tearing former pictures, throwing out old books, changing erstwhile slogans – swearing off anything valuable in the country’s history. Thoughts of survival became rooted in people’s minds so deeply and tenaciously that all principles of conscience were discarded as useless, and only “saving” alcohol could quench the thirst for oblivion and idleness. Those times we didn’t drink very often and exchanged vodka, which had became a principal means of payment, for food or services. The prices rose daily (This refers to price liberalization or price deregulation – element of the economic policy of the Russian government in the early 1990s involving weakening of government control over pricing. Price liberalization led to increases in prices considerably exceeding the growth of money supply, resulting in its real compression. Thus, the GDP deflation index and the consumer price index increased approximately 2400-fold from 1992 to 1997, and M2 monetary aggregate increased approximately 280-fold for the same period), but life just kept getting worse the more alms we received. Probably, misfortune unites people. In those moments they were particularly capable of compassion for other people’s grief. Losses, disappointments and imperfections that had filled the country made passersby feel much more similar to each other than ever before.

And then that old acquaintance of ours, the blind gipsy, appeared. I felt severely sick that day; maybe that’s why I clearly remembered her widely open, motionless eyes looking away but seeming to see through. Having rummaged in the depths of her pocket, she took out an old coin which was no longer in circulation, and threw it on the ground in front of us.

“Thank you,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Keep your thank you notes for later. Today I’m going to tell Compass Legs,” she perfectly knew his moniker, “to shift you to another spot.”

“What’s the sense?” We were surprised simultaneously.

“Always and everywhere there is a sense,” she responded patiently. “Today I’m helping you, tomorrow you’re helping somebody, and then someone will help me . And another thing, if someone touches you with a shadow of his little finger, just tell me.”

“But how do we find you?” you wondered.

“I will find you ,” and this muddy-eyed fish smiled with her gold teeth and yelled so loud that she could be heard all over the tunnel. “Well, precious ones, see you here or there. Keep in touch.”

A new spot again, and how many of them are going to appear throughout our lifetime? No one knows.

The next day Compass Legs rapidly explained our new “working” conditions to us. We gave him all our money, collected for the day in exchange for free food and accommodation. Indeed, why take away a part if you can take away the whole!? Supervisors know their business: a person – in our case, two persons – who has no choice can be easily twisted around your little finger.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I decided to share my thoughts with you.

You turned away, trying to hide your face, and at that very moment I saw your reflection in the kiosk window – helpless, crocked and embittered.

“We can’t quit, you must understand, we have nowhere to go,” you said, choosing the words with difficulty. “However, Ickie’s maternal dwelling or better yet a madhouse would accept us with open arms.”

Suddenly and without any warning, your eyes flashed with malicious fire:

“Here we’re uncommonly but not improperly taken for a very young woman, I mean, two women. And in the mental home, what is expected of us? Now I say that walking from corner to corner, pills, dirty bedpans and special treatment which makes us really and permanently madwomen; and nobody’s even going to listen to you – you are a loony, you are of no use for anything. Running away is not an option because there is no place to escape. We have to survive with a limited number of options, that’s the only thing we should think about. Society determined with great precision that we belong to the rubbish dump; we have to take it and be grateful for it. Here, we are at least given a chance for some kind of existence.”

You became silent for a while, moving your finger on a glass, and then continued:

“Our underground world is not so bad. It is governed by certain rules, which may be cruel, but they work perfectly fine for me. Up above, there are no rules at all, especially for the needy like us; just sadness, depression and gloom.”

A burdensome feeling of unease and sickness that is hard to put into words was gradually fading away until it disappeared completely. From that moment on, I tried not to bring up the issue of escape anymore because I was sincerely afraid: what if you suggest the old proven way of solving problems: jumping out of a window?

It is generally accepted that if you have ugly looks, you must be beautiful inside. That’s what classic books say. Lies! Only here, in our place, you understand how far the authors are from reality. The truth is, the more hardships a person is going through, the more exasperated he or she becomes. A new tunnel reminded me of a tumultuous river with a flock of beggars nestling ashore; they met us “at the door” with such undisguised hatred that we even had to close our eyes tight. There was nothing but the malice we were already used to; nothing but new concerns and privations which we were somehow meant to get through.

Ickie found us three days later. That was how long it took him to search through half of the walking tunnels under the city. We left our spot to fulfill a physical need while he agreed to substitute us in our begging business.