December 30, 1993
Thursday
The New Year struck unexpectedly. Zhorik burst into the office some thirty hours before the chimes on television: «What are you sitting there for like Tsyurupa at the Council of People’s Commissars? We’re off to the «Terem» to drink and stuff ourselves!»
I glanced at the calendar: December thirtieth, still early. Zhorik was boiling over:
– The New Year’s bender kicks off in an hour! Tomorrow’s a day off. Nothing to do here. Nobody’s going to work anyway. Drop everything and get ready. We’re going!
Ten minutes later I came down to the courtyard and ran into an «Ikarus» rattling in the middle of the parking lot. «Proma» staff were loading into the bus, an enormous crowd. For the past month I had signed off every day on taking on a manager, or a bookkeeper, or a storekeeper. I had signed my fill. Some fifty people were loading into the «Ikarus». Aha... the women from the «Vatrushka» had come along too.
Zhorka bounded over, laid it out:
– We drink at the Terem for two hours, then it’s freestyle. Decide whether you’re taking the bus or something else. I’m on the bus. Too risky to leave Durandal parked by the Terem. Second floor there’s not finished. The Moldovan workers might drop something on it by accident.
Clear enough. Zhorik was thinking straight. I fell in at the back of the line, Zhorik hopped into the bus and took charge: «Get in, take your seats, rejoice in life! Yes, yes! We’re heading to a joint to drink vodka and dance our jigs. All right, boys, don’t hold up the line. Girls, slip right on through! There’ll be imported wine, not from our own warehouse, the real deal, French. Move along, find your seats, and remember: whoever’s not with us is a turncoat and a scoundrel. Boo on them! Right, let’s count off! Everybody better be here!»
The staff seated themselves and counted off with enthusiasm. Both labor collectives were agitated in anticipation of the drinking, like Natasha Rostova before her first ball. I got into the cabin last, plopped down in the seat next to Zhorka, leaned back, relaxed, and got a light stab of pain. Entirely out of place, I remembered the verse about the eternal, inhuman feud-war for perishable goods... where captive souls are full of sin…
What was that? Damn! How it hurt!!! The bus pulled off, the pain vanished, I calmed down. Glanced at the dusk outside the window, nothing frightening. Everything going according to plan.
