Victor Pelevin - The Sacred Book of the Werewolf

2. a list of sponsors.

3. a protest in Aesopian language (are we coming back to that so soon?) against the oppressive tyranny of the authorities.

Everything in Russian life had shifted around so much that it was hard to reach any final conclusion. And I didn’t have the time: we didn’t slow down anywhere and soon this tapestry of the north had dissolved in the white dust behind us. The snowy expanses of evening closed in on us from all sides.

‘Put on my favourite,’ Alexander said to the driver.

He looked sullen and intense, and I thought it best not to distract him by making conversation.

An old song by Shocking Blue came on:

I’ll follow the sun

That’s what I’m gonna do,

Trying to forget all about you . . .

I couldn’t help thinking that ‘trying to forget all about you’ referred to me - the female psyche does that sort of thing automatically without bothering to consult its owner. But I thought the oath to follow the sun, confirmed by the words ‘that’s what I’m gonna do’, in the manner of the ancient Vikings, had a certain exalted beauty to it.

I’ll follow the sun

Till the end of time

No more pain and no more tears for me.

Naturally, when I heard the end of time mentioned, I recalled the caption under the picture of a wolf that I’d seen at Alexander’s place:

FENRIR: Son of Loki, an immense wolf who pursues the sun across the sky. When Fenrir catches the sun and devours it, Ragnarek will begin.

That changed the picture somewhat . . . What a child he is after all, I thought with a tenderness that I was still not consciously aware of, what a funny little boy.

Soon it started getting dark. In the moonlight the landscape outside the car window had an unearthly look - it seemed strange that people should fly to other planets, when they had places like this right here beside them. The ground only a metre away from the invisible road might well never have been touched by the foot of man, or any foot or paw, come to that, and we would be the first . . .

When we reached our destination, it was already completely dark. Outside the car there were no buildings, no lights, no people, nothing - just the night, the snow, the moon and the stars. The only thing interrupting the monotony of the landscape was a nearby hill.

‘Out we get,’ said Alexander.

It was cold outside. I raised the collar of my padded jacket and tugged the fur cap further down over my ears. Nature had not designed me for life in these parts. What would I have done there, anyway? The reindeer herders don’t seek amorous adventures among the snows, and even if they did, I doubt if I would be able to spread my tail in frost like that. It would probably freeze immediately and snap off, like an icicle.

The cars lined up so that their powerful headlights lit up the entire hill. Men began bustling about in the pool of light, unpacking the equipment they had brought with them - instruments of some kind that were a mystery to me. One man in the same kind of padded military jacket I was wearing, with a black bag in his hands, came up to Alexander and asked:

‘Can I set it up?’

Alexander nodded.

‘Let’s go together,’ he said, and turned towards me. ‘And you come with us too. The view’s beautiful from up there, you’ll see.’

We set off towards the top of the hill.

‘When did the pressure fall?’ Alexander asked.

‘Yesterday evening,’ one of the officers replied.

‘Have you tried pumping in water?’

The officer waved his hand dismissively, as if that wasn’t even worth mentioning.

‘How many times is it that the pressure’s fallen in this well?’

‘Five,’ said the officer. ‘That’s it, we’ve squeezed it dry. The reservoir, and the whole of Russia.’

He swore quietly.

‘We’ll soon see about the whole of Russia,’ said Alexander. ‘And watch your tongue, we have a lady with us, after all.’

‘Oh, a new member of the team?’

‘Something of the sort.’

‘That’s good. We can’t expect much from Mikhalich . . .’

We reached the top. I saw low buildings in the distance, pinpoints of blue and yellow electric light, latticework metal structures, smoke or steam rising in some places. The moon lit up a labyrinth of pipes extending across the surface of the ground - some of them plunged into the snow, others stretched all the way to the horizon. But all this was too far away for me to make out any details. I didn’t notice any people anywhere.

‘Are they on the line?’ Alexander asked.

‘Yes,’ the officer replied. ‘If anything happens, they’ll let us know. What are the chances?’

‘We’ll see,’ said Alexander. ‘What point is there in guessing? Let’s get ready.’

The officer put his bag down on the snow and opened it. Inside there was a plastic case about the same size and shape as a large melon. Catches clicked, the melon opened and I saw a cow’s skull that looked very old lying on red velvet. In some places it was cracked and held together by metal plates. The bottom of the skull was set in a metal frame.

The officer took a black cylinder out of the bag and opened it up to form something like one of those telescopic sticks for trekking. It had a round flange at one end. He took a swing and thrust the pointed end of the stick in the snow, then checked to make certain it was secure. It was, very. Then he picked up the skull, set its metal base over the flange on the end of the stick and connected them with a faint click.

‘All set?’ asked Alexander.

He hadn’t been following the manipulations, he was watching the distant lights and the pipelines, like a general surveying the site of an imminent battle. The officer turned the empty eye sockets of the skull towards the oilfield. I couldn’t understand what he was intending to film with this weird camera.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Let’s go,’ said Alexander.

We walked down the hill towards the men waiting for us by the cars.

‘Well then, Mikhalich,’ said Alexander, ‘why don’t you go first? Give it a try. And I’ll back you up if need be.’

‘Straight away,’ said Mikhalich. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes, I’ll just pop into the car to make sure I don’t freeze my ass off.’

‘You mean you can’t manage at all without ketamine?’

‘Whatever you say, comrade lieutenant general,’ said Mikhalich. ‘Only I’d like to do it according to my own system. And I’ve already switched to injecting into the muscle.’

‘Well, do it your way then,’ Alexander muttered in annoyance. ‘Go on. We’ll see. It’s time you learned to walk without crutches, Mikhalich. Have faith in yourself! Let it all out! Wolf-flow! Wolf-flow! What will you do if your dealer gets banged up? Is the whole country going to pay the price?’

Mikhalich cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything and walked round behind the cars. As he walked by, he winked at me. I pretended not to notice.

‘One minute to go,’ said a loud voice amplified by a megaphone. ‘Everybody withdraw behind the perimeter.’

The cluster of men in the light of the headlights walked quickly away into the darkness behind the cars. The only one left standing with us was the officer who had helped Alexander install the skull on the hilltop. I didn’t know if the command meant me as well and I looked enquiringly at Alexander.

‘Have a seat,’ he said, pointing to a folding chair nearby. ‘Mikhalich is going to perform now. Just be sure not to laugh, he’s sensitive. Especially when he’s taken a shot.’

‘I remember,’ I said and sat down.

Alexander settled down on the chair next to mine and handed me a pair of field binoculars. The metal casing was searingly cold to the touch.