
##1004257 Some history they did n't teach you in schoolbut it explains a lot ! <p> You just ca n't tell about History . I mean , things are changing so fast , it sometimes feels like the very past itself is not as solid as it used to be . At least that 's the take where I am . Or is that when I am ? The terminology is n't too precise . And here at AT &T; ( at least before it got broken up into a bunch of smaller , almost incoherent organizations ) , we engineers and scientists used to pride ourselves on lucid , accurate , precise , and correct terminology and language . However you say it though , one thing is clear to me : nothing is what it seems to be to all of you who work outside The Phone Company . History , least of all . Let me try to make that a little clearer . Have you ever had the feeling , during the last ten or fifteen years , that history just was not happening like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world 's bad guys just sort of gave up and went away without a fight ? How so many kinds of weird people and unusual ideas and outrageous political movements have sprung up , have even won elections ? How even the historians ca n't seem to agree on history any more , and how we argue about even our memories of recent events ? I 've got news for you : history has n't been what it should have been . It is n't even staying the same . And , my friends , that is truly scary . I first experienced It over thirty years ago , when I got into Bell Labs , and by deep thought and worthy deed and sincere action convinced The Powers That Ought To Be how I was fit to be one of them ( or at least on their team ) , and thus finally got my soul-grabbing alphabet soup of clearances . I accepted It with all my other duties , and took some pride in the fact that we in The Phone Company had undertaken such a cosmic task . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ THE Sixties , " they did n't arrive until about " 65 or so ) , and way back then we did as we were told . Well , more or less . Anyway , I did n't know the rest of the world knew anything about It until I happened to be at a drunken party at the 1985 World Sci-Fi Convention in Auckland Down Under . The room was jammed with sci-fi writers of all kinds , and as a guy fairly new to the field , I was kind of hanging out at the periphery , hoping my party trajectory would take me into an orbit that led ultimately to intersect with a Hugo winner somewhere , preferably a hard science type like Jerry or Larry or Charles or Greg or Hal or David or Poul . While I mused so , a tall , dark , and hairy author sidled up to me and whispered , " Where were you when the world changed , Arlan ? " I gulped involuntarily and he stared down at me as if I Knew Of course , I Did . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as innocently as I could , fighting down the urge to panic , " when Apollo landed ? " He shook his head . " No , not that . When Things Changed . " I could hear the Capital Letters , he was that good . His voice lowered even further , and I practically had to stand on tiptoes to catch his speech , even though I did n't really want to hear him say it . He was not a Company Man , after all . " I mean , Arlan , when all these alternate universes , alternate histories , started becoming our reality ? " Damn it , he Knew ! Inwardly I groaned ; this would mean stacks of reports to be filled out , and assessments of situations , and loads of other paperwork I did n't want to think about during the Sci-Fi Con . " Eric , I do n't know what you mean . You 're talking about the new markets in sci-fi novels , the alternate-history ones you 've started doing ? " Shaking his head , Eric snorted and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ smoking-room section of the Sci-Fi professionals " party , where a heated debate was in progress . He shoved and squeezed , manipulating me into the heated core of the ongoing belligerence , and I found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a bedful of various famous , and nearly so , sci-fi writers . One of them was obviously tipsy as well as loud , but fascinating for all that . " Hellfire , I can tell you when It All Changed-when Hinckley 's bullets missed Ron Reagan , right there in front of the Hinckley Hilton , downtown D.C. In the real world , George Bush became president in 19 and 81 and we did n't get this godawful arms buildup and the trillion-dollar Star Wars program that 's going to destroy the economy and the world . " Interesting thought , I thought , but way off base . Behind me a challenging voice chirped up , " No , in the real world , Lennon shoots Reagan . US declares war on Colombia . " " Colombia ? " somebody asked . " Hell @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ makes him do it ! " The whole room roared in hilarity , marking the high point in the conversation , after which time the roomful of brilliant , creative , and weird minds latched onto other emerging subjects and the theory of How Things Had Changed evaporated into the stultifying mixture of smoke and air and body odor . I uncrossed my legs and motioned Eric to meet me outside , on the patio past the sliding glass doors . Outside , he picked up the conversation . " Arlan , there you go . They know it , too . We 've all of us sensed that things have changed . Trouble is , we just ca n't pinpoint exactly when . " I started to speak , but Eric held up a palm . " No , hear me out , really . I think we in the sci-fi field are just more attuned to alternate history , and I 'll be damned if I do n't think you and I and the rest of us " -he gestured toward the laughing crowd back inside the room- " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ history or other weird timeline . " I breathed deeply , controlling my initial fears . He does n't Know . He 's only speculating . I took comfort in that thought , but a more disturbing one took its place . But he does feel it , they all do inside there . I shrugged mentally . I ca n't tell them , but they ought to feel lucky to be tn one of the Seven Known Alternities . What godawful things might be happening in all the rest of the Infinitude ? Let me interrupt here to tell you The Story : How Things Were , How Things Got Cross-Wired ( Literally ) , and How Things Came Apart . And ultimately , how that has to do with What We ( Used To ) Do At The Phone Company . Time:July 1964 . Scene : Bell Telephone Laboratories , Murray Hill , New Jersey . A secret chamber , half a mile below the surface , bright fluorescent lighting , walls daubed a dull light green . At the head of a class a lecturer speaks . " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you , successfully completed all the intensive coursework , endured the extensive barrage of testing , and secured your comprehensive security clearances . " The neatly dressed preppie scientist-all dark suit , white Oxford-cloth shirt , shiny thin tie , and blond crew cut-smiled at his little wordplay and several of my class of ten new recruits nodded and returned the smile . I did n't ; I felt like we were on the verge of some spectacular revelation and I leaned forward to catch every word . " You have taken all the courses , you have understood the growth of the Bell System , all the way from Dr. Bell and Mr. Watson , through Mr. Vail , through the step-by-step Strowger switch up to today 's Electronic Switching System , the ESS Series that we are this very day installing for the first time . " Does anyone know why we have spent billions and billions of dollars to replace perfectly good seventy-yearold technology , switches that have operated almost failure-free since they were invented by that undertaker who wanted to ensure that no human operator would take @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ phone line ? " " To make more efficient the U. S. of A. phone system , " one greenhorn volunteered . An Indian . From India . " To make more money . " " To get calls through faster . " " To service the customers . " At each of these rapid-fire answers from the audience , the lecturer smiled and shook his head , pointing at yet another raised hand " You 're all correct , " he finally said , pacing up and down in front of the lectern , " those are good reasons , and each of them will happen . But , " he spun on his heel , splaying all ten fingers at us , " each of you is also Wrong . The real reason has to do with our vast wired network , the millions upon millions of interconnections we have made , the untold quadrillions and quintillions and octillions of possible interconnections among these customers that are possible . " His voice now a whisper , the lecturer turned and pressed a large red pushbutton on the wall behind @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rough surfaced rear-projection screen . " I am now ready-you are now ready-to understand the whole truth behind The Phone Company . Why it must remain one unitary system , at least in the U. S. of A. , why we must maintain our interconnected network as the world 's leader . The rest of the world , backwards as they are , they 'll never catch up . And for us , that 's good . They wo n't get the Alter nities goodies like we do . " The class , me included , gasped as the rear-projection screen suddenly filled with the five words that changed our lives : There Are Seven Parallel Universes . The lecturer smiled at our gasping reactions . " How can there be ? " the Harvard man said , standing and pointing to make his point . " Simple , " came the answer , " the Many-Worlds Theory of Quantum Mechanics allows an uncountably infinite number of parallel universes , each stemming from tiny decisions in a mother world . Next question . " " How do we know this ? @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a nerdish but shapely and attractive woman with the unlikely last name of Borg . The rear-projection screen faded its stunning revelation , replacing it with an image of thousands of overhead wires in 1890s New York . " Around the turn of the century , " the explanation came , " The Phone Company started getting complaints about unknown crosstalk-voices that should n't have been there-especially in New York . Close investigation by the Western Electric research team revealed that the strange voices were not coming from our subscribers , but from elsewhere . Where " elsewhere " was , they could n't tell . " But the situation grew more serious as we jammed more and more wires into a given city . Those early pioneers tried filters , everything , to cut down on the unwanted noise . It was only when they set up an experimental lab and talked to some of those other voices that we finally understood what was happening , that we were able to establish two-way communications with other alternate worlds , worlds of different histories . " We were spellbound , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , can you imagine what happened when Dr. Alexander Graham Bell , US citizen from Scotland , found himself speaking with Dr. Ing . Aleandre Lighthorse du Belle , citizen of the Confederate States of North America ? " We all sat gaping , stunned but not disbelieving . The wildest stories of science fiction were true ! Yet there was more to come . " But it was only when Bell Labs got into the picture in the 1920s that they found out bow it was all happeningthe real reason that there ever was a Bell Labs in the first place , you may have guessed . And the secret was , the enormous number of interconnections , the huge number of miles of bare wire all interconnected and switched together , somehow induced connections between our universe and several of the closest parallel universes . " The lecturer shrugged . " Again , this has something to do with the eigenvalue solutions of the Wave Equation , they say . Beyond that , you get into spinos and I ca n't answer anything . I just know that our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ faster and better than ever before . " " Why only seven ? " Borg asked . " We surmise that only six alternate universes have been sufficiently wired up , like we are , to allow the parallel universe induction to occur . " Harvard man , still standing , turned to lecture the rest of us . " So , either those are the only six , or only six of an infinite number of parallel universes . Either of those possibilities is staggering . What a concept ! " The rest of that day was a wonder . We learned that all of the parallel-Universe analogs of The Phone Company had cooperated to share information among themselves . We got the deForest triode amplifier , we gave the Strowger switch ; we got a rather primitive version of solid-state physics ; we traded them Claude Shannon 's work on information theory . And on and on , up through masers and lasers and aerogels and virtual reality , a profitable collusion of seven cornucopias with secret knowledge . Based on the benefits of this arrangement , The Phone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a monopoly in this country ; to break up such a scheme would have cost us immensely . And , to hedge against our foreign cousins finding such a treasure house , we sent secret emissaries abroad to ensure that no other country would ever be so wired as to access the alternate worlds . In the British Isles , for example , we made sure that the venerable Post Office would run their system . In all the other monarchies , we were able to whisper about the threat to security that unfettered telephony among the peasants might pose . After many years , only tiny Finland was able to construct any system comparable to ours . Fortunately for us , this little country never met the minimum parallel world induction requirements , and so no other nation ever found out about It-until . . . For most of this century , The Phone Company had It made , and the rest of the country along with us . But sure enough , somewhere along the line , we got too complacent and someone else caught on . We figure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and his entourage went to Japan in the late 1940s to teach the defeated enemy how to manage quality in their reborn factories , teaching them all about Bell Labs " statistics . Some smart Japanese must have figured out our secret , because in the late " 40s they began wiring up Japan every bit as heavily as we had wired the US . " OK , so they 're coming aboard , so what ? " was the general line taken at our New York HQ . " Maybe we can learn something from parallel-Japans as well . " But those wise guys had learned our whole game , not just the technical side : they began to lobby inside our government to break our wired system apart , to make us fall below the parallel-worlds induction level . And they did , and it worked ; we in The Phone Company had failed to continue to convince the powers-thatwere of the benefits of our system . Personally , I do n't think some of them in Washington ever even believed we talked to other worlds . To make @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what happened : on Jani ary 1 , 1983 , as required by law , the Bell System was divided into seven smaller " Baby Bells . " I was in a regional switching control office , watching the huge display screens as the long lines were physically separated at the switches . To my sorrow , as region after region of the US went dark , I could see the connections to the parallel worlds winking off , dissipating . Within minutes , all connections to the goodies and freebies of six other Alternate Phone Companies were severed , and for the first time in over eighty years , we at AT &T; were Alone . There is no need to detail the enormous personal sacrifice we all felt , especially those 20,000 persons who had lived their lives to maintain the nodal points where inter-universe communications had been taking place . They were , of course , laid off . No one ever revealed The Secret because they would n't have been believed , and jobs were scarce , and each one needed a good reference to find new @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the story , at least the obvious parts . The Pacific Rim countries wired them selves up , pell-mell , putting in communications capacity they would never need , all in hopes of accessing the treasures of the parallel worlds . And by the mid- ' 80s , it became apparent they had made induction work : the enormous number of innovations in consumer products , in electronics , in just about every field , crushing our homegrown companies , causing unemployment and misery all over our land . Oh , in a few places where we had supercomputers and the alternate universes had them in the same place , we maintained a minimal set of contacts , so that places like Los Alamos and Sandia and NASA occasionally got the rare jewel of research information . But nothing really useful to society at large . This is , of course , the obvious part , something everyone could figure out , given the true picture of parallel worlds . But there were non-obvious , nonpublic consequences as well , things that we at AT &T; did n't find out till @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the newly independent Baby Bells went hell-bent for induction , each on their own , and were already prepared , secretly , at the cut-over date , . to maintain their own parallel induction capabilities . They did n't miss a lick , although there were problems . Trouble was , rather than having one large , coherent system , the induction was locally strong in some places , weak in others . Result was , some Baby Bells could access some of the usual six parallel worlds , but because of massive concentrations in some cities , other Baby Bells started picking up many more parallel universe systems . Some of those new worlds were really weird , I found out later . The information anybody over here got was sporadic , sometimes nonsensical ( ESP machines ? Inertialess drives ? Video games ? ) Some worlds had their inductive wiring systems jammed up in one or two regions ; there 's an Etowah Nation that talks in Cherokee to what used to be BellSouth ; a Republic of Fremont in the Bay Area only ; an Arabicspeaking parallel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which turns out to be a real mess . All of that occurred real quick-like on January 1 , 1983-the Real Day Everything Changed , when the alternate worlds began to get out of synch . There were bigger problems to come , though , much bigger . We had the seven Baby Bells wiring up to beat the band , and the Pacific Rimmers doing the same . You add to that the gargantuan increase in wiring our cable TV systems in particular , and by the late " 80s we were getting much too coupled to those other worlds . Sometime in that period , the past itself began to waver . Since Bell Labs had been mostly broken up into ineffectual consumer-product groups , and since nobody else cared too much about nationwide telephone network research , there has n't been anybody to study the problem , but the last I heard was this : because of the scattered concentrations of wiring interconnections , some kind of balance among the parallel worlds was upset . Things got chaotic ; result was , the past of World One ( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ another world , and they all got mixed up , fairly randomly . We at AT &T; began tracking the manifestations-people who swore they 'd read that one famous person or another had died , but then found out it had n't happened . Things once lost turning up where they been searched for before , and vice versa . Anomalous artifacts in archaeology , weird lights in the sky , strange cults and sects , independent Presidential candidates , the whole works . And worst of all , a vague feeling permeating society that Something Had Changed . We at AT &T; grew horrified-sup pose last month 's long-distance calling charges got shifted to another world as well ? What if our past got shifted into some world with higher taxes ? An accountant 's nightmare ! We could n't have all our remaining investments at risk . So we got together with the other long-distance carriers and in unison we attacked the problem on all fronts , even got the Feds and all of their Labs involved . Suddenly , networking studies , neural nets , Al , became @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hypotheses , with possible solutions . What we found was , with the profusion of more and more electronic products , with more and more PCs and laptops , the problem is just getting worse . Pockets of past-shifting are occurring randomly all over the world ; business records , investment accounts , even genealogies are no longer solid . Historical " revisionism " is rampant , as different sets of scholars write on things they actually researched and remember , from sources that once were valid . Politics have changed so sharply that forty-year trends have reversed themselves ; one election the people want big government , the next , a smaller one ; and the most incredible politicians , ones who would ve been jailed in previous years , get themselves elected over and over again . ( Well , when the past changes , memories get confused and the populace responds accordinglyunpredictably . ) Actually , there is one solution to this situation , and all of us Phone Companies decided to do it a few years back , but it 's rather scary , too . With @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Know , we have been going full-bore to wire the whole world up in one unified network , to grow the Internet-with its information-rich video and sound version , the World Wide Web-so wide and far and fast that we will quickly warp our whole planet into one unified , stable history line , presumably a consensus past acceptable to most of us . The uncertainty is unnerving , but at least we 're better off than some worlds , at least we have a chance to stabilize our own past . And we Phone Companies here in World One are pushing as hard as possible , before another alternate world steals our history . Because as bad as our known history is , we could have done worse . In some of those unfortunate other worlds , various incarnations of Monopoly still reign : weird things called a World Soviet Union , a Unified World State , a Corporate Continuum , an Axis Hegemony , and Le Monarchie du Monde de Napoleon XII . And-in one particularly pernicious parallel universe , their version of the US government is even trying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ communications chips , a secret way into the network so that Big Brother can subtly intervene electronically whenever it senses a threat to itself , and prevent its Phone Companies from stabilizing their world 's past . From that regime 's horribly perverse viewpoint , a changing past is preferable to an unknown past that might kick them out of power . Of course , you might expect such shenanigans from a world in which the US re-elects as a President some oversexed Yuppie yahoo . Thank the Eight Hundred Gods that in our own enlightened world , the Co-Regents are both ex-sci-fi writers who understand these kinds of things and are letting your Phone Companies , like us here at Alternate Telecoms &; Telechron , try to nail down the past once and for all . You just ca n't be too careful about History ! 
##1004261 After their mothers death , they had a terrible fight . Would they ever find a way to forgive each other or themselves ? <p> Do n't bother your mother . She 's not feeling well . " Dan 's voice penetrates my foggy brain like a disembodied spirit I hear Junie 's whiny reply : " But yoo put tnx much mayonnaise on my sandwich ! " " Eat it anyway , " Dan says . Score one for Dan , I think , and turn over in bed . Muscles scream in protest ; even my hair hurts . The bedroom door opens , and Dan stops to kiss me goodbye . " Jared left early for practice . I made Junie 's lunch , " he says proudly . Then he sighs . " Why do n't you let me call your sister ? " Standing above me with his back to the window , Dan seems to glow , a lanky angel in a suit . " Forget it , " I say . " I 've told you . I 'm never going @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Have it your way . I 'll call around noon . " I wait until I hear his car leave the driveway , then stare morosely at the phone . Nly sister , Delores , a marketing consultant for a cosmetics firm , travels 80 percent of the year . When she 's home , she works out of her apartment in the next town . I know she 's home now because Dan bumped into her last night at the supermarket . " Delores just got back from Paris , " he told me when he came home . " She asked how you were . I said you were laid up with the flu . " " Why did you tell her I was sick ? " " Because you are , " hc said , with maddening male logic . " She asked if there was anything she could do . I told her I did n't think so . " He had that right . There is nothing Delores can ever do to make up for the things she said last November , after our mother died @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I WOULD HAVE NOTICED that she was getting worse ! Why did n't you do something ? " Delores and I were strolling on the beach , deserted except for an elderly woman and her dog by the water 's edge . " I did what I could , " I told her . " I called the doctor and explained that Mom was coughing . He said he would order a chest X ray . " " Which he never did ! You should have followed through ! " I stopped and looked at her . Delores was just four years younger than I , but her skillful use of makeup made her appear more like my teenage daughter . " I'hat week , however , when mirrors were covered in deference to the departed , Delores had to do without makeup , and her hair was limp . I noticed the little lines bracketing her eyes . She was 35 , and for once , she Iooked it . " Are you suggesting I 'm to blame for Slom 's death ? " I asked , incredulous . She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you could have taken the time to- " " I ca n't listen to this , " I said , and began walking again . " When I called you before I left and told you to set up a meeting with the doctor , you said you did n't have time ! " " Well , I did n't ! " I turned , indignant . " I had four closings that week . I spoke to the doctor on the phone and I thought that was enough ... " My voice trailed off , and Iooked away . ( continued ) " Oh , please , you never had enough time for iom ! " I could feel tears building , but I was determined not to give in . " Well , I was the one with her when she died , while you were off in Copenhagen- " " And if I 'd been here , she 'd probably still be alive ! " Delores shouted . The woman at the water 's edge was staring at us openly . She appeared to te in her late @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much my mother would have enjoyed such a day , watching the sea and the sky blend near the horizon . No longer able to control tears , I soled , " Well , at least I gave N lome something to be proud off I gave her grandchildren ! " Delores recoiled . " ' IThat 's it . I 'm going home ! " She stalked off ahead of me , and we walked the rest of the way in a silence that stretched from that day to this . . . THE PHONE RINGS , IT IS NINA , MY BOSS AT the real estate agency , wanting to know when I 'll be back . " I 'm feeling lbtter , " I lie . " Probably by the end of the week , " I tell her . " No sooner ? " she asks . " Because things are really hopping around here , " I remind myself that we need the money my job brings in , and that telling Nina to get a life would probably not be wise . " I 'll @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I realize I 'm disappointed that it was n't Delores . This is pathetic , considering that I 've told everyone I have no intention of speaking to my sister again . My friends have tried to be loyal , yet fair . " It was a dumb thing for Delores to say , " they all agree , " but you were both overwrought . " Perhaps , but there are limits to what may be said in anger , and blaming me for our mother 's death qualifies as crossing the line . Pride is n't without consequences , however , for I have suffered a double loss . Now I have no one with whom to share memo rics of our mother , except in dreams . And in my dreams , Delores and I are children again , playing in our backyard . We push our dog , Rusty , in a doll carriage ; we aim for the sky on our swings while our mother smiles at us from her garden : " I love you ! " she calls to us from among the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spinnling , make my way over to the bathroom . Mornigs are when I miss my mother most . Lately , I 've read a lot of books with the word light in the title , books about peopIe who 've come close to dying and lived to tell about it I find them very comforting . " Death ends nothing , " the survivors insist . " ' Ihose who have gone on to the other side often come back to reassure the ones they left behind . Be open to them .... " I try like crazy to Inc open . In bed at night , my eyes search the darkness for ct glimpse of ghostly reassurance . But my mother has yet to appear . I believe this is because she is angry because I did n't , as Delores accused , follow up on the chest X raY . Delores , I berate myself , would have badgered the doctor to do the X ray , enabling him to spot the pneumonia that was to kill our mother within a week . THE SIGHT OF MYSELF FRIGHTENING @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ creature who stares at me from the medicine cabinet mirror . " A nice cup of tea will make everything better . " A few weeks in the Bahamas would n't hurt , either , I think , as I survey the kitchen : breakfast dishes piled on the counter ; milk and juice cartons open on the table . I put on the kettle and try not to worry that Jared has forgotten his lunch . He 's 12 , and would rather starve than have his mother show up at school with his tuna sandwich . I remember how embarrassed I felt when my mother would appear in my classroom proffering snow boots after a surprise storm . Now , the memory brings me to tears . Outside , the sky is gray and threatening . Please , no more snow , I beg silently . I look at the calendar and count : five weeks to spring . On such an unpromising day , my mother would already be kneeling in her garden , impatiently probing the hard earth with her fingers . It irked her that neither @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Give it a chance , girls , " she would urge ever spring . " I know it 's hard work , but the rewards are worth it . " " Not me , " I would tell her . " I prefer the dirt to stay beneath my shoes . " Dolores would add , " Besides , who wants to put so mutch effort into flowers when they just die anyway ? " " Everything dies , " my mother would reply softly . " What 's important is the beauty we bring into the world while we live . " MY NOSE IS STUFFY AND MY HEAD ACHES . I want my mother . I want her to kiss my forehead and feed me homemade chicken soup . I want her to play Chinese checkers with me , and afterward read mc a storry about dancing princesses . Come to me , I plead . Tell me that you 're in a better place . Tell me you forgive me . The tea makes me feel semihuman . For the past two days , I 've been unable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the chaos around me . I go from room to room , picking up dirty socks and towels , and stagger with my brundle to the landry room . I start to load the washer when the doorbell rings . " Open up , Jen . It 's Delores , " I hear before I make it to the door . At nine-thirty in the morning , she is perfectly made up , her auburn hair cut in a sleek , new style . " You look awful , " she says . " You look great , " I acknowledge , letting her in . For an awkward moment , neither of us says a word , then we both speak at the same time : " Dan tells me you were in Paris- " " I met Dan last night at the market- " We chuckle self-consciously . There 's no denying it : I 'm glad to see her . " Dan said you had the flu . Why are n't you in bed ? " " I 've been there . For two days . " She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ really sorry , Jen . For that sniff I said on the beach . I did n't mean it I was feeling guilty , I guess , for not being here when she died . I 've wanted to call you a thousand times . " " Me too , " I sigh , and we hug . In the kitchen , Delores fixes us fresh tea with honey and lemon . She makes toast and cuts the slices into triangles , the way our mother used to . We talk a long time : about our mother , and what a loving person she was ; and about our dad , who died so long ago we hardly remember him . I wonder aloud if they 're Iooking down on us as we speak , reunited at last . Delores , a professed agnostic , says that although the idea of an afterlife is appealing , she is reluctant to suspend her disbelief . When I mention the books I 've been reading , she asks if I also believe that little men with heads shaped like lightbulbs are conducting @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ? " I answer . " Give me a break ! " she shrieks , laughing . Then , " Speaking of bulbs , I 've brought some . They 're in the car . " " You brought me lightbulbs ? " " Not lightbulbs . Tulip bulbs . I bought them for blom when I was in Copenhagen . " She lowers her eyes . " I was going to give them away , but then I thought you might want them . " We both turn to the window . The gloomy morning has made my backyard distinctly uninviting . " I do n't know anything about planting tulip bulbs , " I say sorrowfully . " Neither do I. Who knows if this is even the right time of year , but I 'm willing to give it a shot . " Delores tries to persuade me to remain inside while she does the planting , but I wo n't hear of it . " I 'm feeling much better . " This is true , though I do n't know if it 's the tea or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " Besides , this is something we should do together . " I zip myself into my down parka and wind a scarf around my neck , but the minute we step onto my back porch , the icy wind sets my head pounding again . We go to the section of yard that gets the most sun . Delores and I , each armed with a spade , drop to our knees and start to dig . Silently , diligently , we break the hard surface of the ground , depositing the bulbs into the earth . " I hope we 're doing this right , " Delores says after awhile . " I hope the silly thing grow . " " Of course they 'll grow . " Do n't ask me how , but I know they will . Smiling , I begin to understand what my mother found so irresistible : Gleaning beauty from the drab earth , season after season , in spite of the odds , is a tribute to hope . In a few weeks , I think , Delores and I will stand @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ colors , the graceful stems , the fragrant perfection of the flowers , we will sense our mother 's presence and know in our hearts that she will never really leave us . WE WORK FOR ABOUT AN HOUR BEFORE I begin sneezing . Delores looks tip from her digging . " I 'm not kidding , Jen , get into the house this minute ! I 'll finish up . " So I go . From the window , I watch my sister , bent against the wind , kneeling in that pose I know so well . " I 'm exhausted , " Delores says when she finally comes in . I ask if she 'd like to stay for lunch , but she says she has to go home and change for a date with a man she met last month . " He 's very nice , " she offers shyly . " Smart and normal . I think lore would have liked him . " " Really ? That 's great , Del , " I say . " Call me later , okay ? " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has finally begun to snow , but lightly , without conviction . I hardly even notice . 
##1004264 It was late in the evening . The private tutor Egor Alexeyitch Svoykin , so as not to waste time , went straight from the doctor 's to the pharmacy . <p> " It 's like going from a cowshed into a courtesan 's boudoir ! " he thought as he climbed the staircase , which was polished and covered with an expensive runner . " You 're afraid to put your foot down ! " <p> As he entered , Svoykin was struck by the aroma one finds in every pharmacy in the world . Science and medicine may change over the years , but the fragrance of a pharmacy is as eternal as the atom . Our grandfathers smelled it , and our grandchildren will smell it , too . As it was so late , there were no customers . Behind a polished yellow counter covered with labeled jars stood a tall gentleman , his head leaning sturdily back . He had a severe face and well-groomed sidewhiskers-to all appearances , the pharmacist . From the small bald patch on his head to his long @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ licked clean , as if he were standing at the altar . His haughty eyes were looking down at a newspaper lying on the counter . He was reading . A cashier sat to the side behind a wire grille , lazily counting change . On the far side of the counter two dim figures puttered about in the semidarkness , mixing a multitude of strange potions . <p> Svoykin went up to the counter and gave the starched gentleman the prescription . He took it without looking at it , continued reading the newspaper article to the end of the sentence , and muttered , turning his head slightly : " Calomeli grana duo , sacchari albi grana quinque , numero decem ! " <p> " Ja ! " a sharp , metallic voice answered from the depths of the pharmacy . <p> The pharmacist gave directions for the drops in the same muffled , measured voice . <p> " Ja ! " came from the other corner . <p> The pharmacist wrote something on the prescription , frowned , and , leaning his head back , rested his eyes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ready in an hour , " he mumbled through his teeth , his eyes scanning for the sentence he had just finished reading . <p> " Ca n't I get it any sooner ? " Svoykin muttered . " I ca n't possibly wait that long . " The pharmacist did not answer . Svoykin sat down on the sofa and waited . The cashier finished counting the change , sighed deeply , and rattled his keys . One of the dark figures in the interior was pounding away with a marble pestle . The other figure shuffled about with a blue vial . Somewhere a clock struck with rhythmic care . <p> Svoykin was ill . His mouth was on fire ; there was a drawn-out pain in his arms and legs ; foggy images tumbled about like clouds and shrouded human figures in his heavy head . He looked as if through a veil at the pharmacist , the shelves of jars , the gas burners , and the cabinets . The monotonous pounding in the marble mortar and the slow ticking of the clock seemed to him to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ head . The disorientation and fogginess took over his whole body more and more , so that after a while , feeling that the pounding of the pestle was making him sick , he decided to get a hold on himself by striking up a conversation with the pharmacist . <p> " I think I 'm getting a fever , " he said . " The doctor says it 's a bit soon to tell what I 'm suffering from , but I 'm already feeling quite weak . Thank God , though , I had the good fortune to fall sick here in the capital and not out in the village , where there 's neither doctor nor pharmacy ! " <p> The pharmacist remained stock-still and , leaning his head further back , kept on reading his newspaper . He did n't respond to Svoykin with word or movement-it was as if he had n't heard him . The cashier yawned loudly and struck a match against his pants . The pounding of the pestle grew louder and more ringing . Seeing that no one was listening to him @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and began reading the labels . At first all kinds of herbs shot before his eyes : Pimpinella , Tormentilla , Zedoaria , Gentian , and so on . Behind the herbs , tinctures flashed , -oleum 's , -seed 's , each name stranger and more antediluvian than the next . <p> " I wonder how much useless ballast there is on these shelves ! " Svoykin thought . " How much stuff must be kept in these jars just for tradition 's sake , but how solid and impressive it all looks ! " <p> Svoykin moved his eyes from the shelves to the glass cabinet next to him . He saw rubber rings , balls , syringes , jars of toothpaste , Pierrot drops , Adelheim drops , cosmetic soaps , hairgrowth ointment . <p> A boy in a dirty apron entered the pharmacy and asked for ten kopecks ' worth of ox bile . " Could you tell me what ox bile is used for ? " Svoykin asked the pharmacist , thinking it might be a handy subject for striking up a conversation . <p> Not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ haughty face of the pharmacist . <p> " God , what strange people they are ! " he thought . " Why do they have science stamped all over their faces ? Looking at them , you 'd think they were lofty scientists , but all they do is sell hair-growth ointment and fleece you . They write in Latin and speak to one another in German . . . they act as if they 're medieval or something . When you 're in good health you never notice their dry , stale faces , but the moment you get sick , like me , you 're horrified that a sacrosanct profession has fallen into the hands of such rigid , unfeeling characters . " <p> Looking at the pharmacist 's motionless face , Svoykin suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to lie down somewhere in the dark , as far away as possible , away from these scientific faces and the pounding of the marble pestle . The exhaustion of illness took over his whole being . He went up to the counter and , with an imploring grimace , asked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to hurry with my medicine ! I 'm . . . I 'm ill . . " <p> " It 'll be ready soon enough . . . excuse me , but there 's no leaning on the counter ! " <p> Svoykin sat down again on the sofa and , chasing away the foggy images in his head , watched the cashier smoke . <p> " Only half an hour has passed , " he thought . " I 'm only halfway through ... this is unbearable ! " <p> But finally the small dark chemist came up to the pharmacist and put down next to him a box with powders and a vial of pink liquid . The pharmacist read to the end of the sentence , slowly walked away from the counter , picked up the vial , and , holding it up to his eyes , shook it . Then he put his signature on a label , tied it to the neck of the vial , and reached for the seal . <p> " God , what are all these rituals for ? " Svoykin thought @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ even charge you extra . " <p> The pharmacist turned around and , having finished with the liquid , went through the same procedure with the powder . <p> " Here you are ! " he said finally , without looking up at Svoykin . " Pay the cashier one ruble and six kopecks ! " <p> Svoykin put his hand in his pocket , took out a ruble , and then suddenly remembered that the ruble was all he had . <p> " One ruble and six kopecks ? " he mumbled , embarrassed . " All I have is one ruble .. . I thought a ruble would be enough . . . what am I going to do ? " <p> " I have no idea ! " the pharmacist said , picking up his newspaper again . <p> " Under the circumstances . . . I would be grateful if you would let me bring you , or maybe send you , the six kopecks tomorrow . . " <p> " I 'm sorry , we do n't give credit here . " <p> " What am @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , get the six kopecks , and then you can have your medicine . " <p> " But . . . I 'm having difficulty walking , and I do n't have anyone I can send . . . " <p> " That 's your problem . " <p> " Well , " Svoykin thought . " Fine , I 'll go home . " He left the pharmacy and set off for home . To reach his apartment he had to sit down five or six times . He went inside , found some change on the table , and sat down on his bed to rest . A strange power pulled his head toward the pillow . He lay down for a few minutes . Foggy images like clouds and shrouded figures blurred his consciousness . For a long time he kept thinking he had to go back to the pharmacy , and for a long time he intended to get up . But the illness prevailed . The copper coins fell out of his hand , and the sick man dreamed that he had gone back to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 
##1004267 IN HIS EARLY TWENTIES IN MOSCOW , ANTON CHEKHOV ( 1860-1904 ) was a cutup , a carouser , a medical student , his family 's breadwinner , and a writer who had recently received the death sentence of tuberculosis . Literally feverish , he also became delirious to write-composing , among many other stories , these exuberant , dark , and presciently modern tales , which have never before been published in English . <p> fter we had finished the punch , our parents murmured a few words to each other and left us alone . " Go ahead ! " my father whispered to me on his way out . " Say the words ! " " But how can I declare my love , " I whispered back , " if I do n't love her ? " " No one 's asking what you want to do , you idiot ! " My father gave me an angry stare and left the garden pavilion . Then , after everyone had gone , a woman 's hand reached in the half-open door and snatched the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . " Well , there 's no escaping now ! " I thought , and with a discreet cough I said briskly : " I see that circumstances favor me , Zoe Andreyevna ! At last we are alone , and darkness comes to my aid , for it covers the shame written on my face .. . the shame pouring from the feelings with which my soul is ablaze . " Suddenly I stopped . I could hear Zoe Andreyevna 's heart beating and her teeth chattering . Her whole organism was trembling-I could hear and feel it from the way the bench was shaking . The poor girl did n't love me . She hated me , the way a dog hates the stick that beats it . She despised me , you could say , as only an idiot can . Suddenly I felt like an orangutan , ugly-even though I 'm covered in medals and honors-no better than a beast , fat-faced , pimply , covered with stubble ; alcohol and a perpetual cold have made my nose red and bloated ! A bear has more grace @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ intellectual qualities ! With her , with Zoe , I had pulled an immoral trick before she became my bride . I stopped in mid-sentence , because suddenly I felt deeply sorry for her . " Let us go out into the garden , " I said . " It 's stifling in here . " We went out and walked down the garden path . Our parents , who had been listening by the door , had managed to scamper into the bushes just before we appeared . Moonbeams played on Zoe 's face . Idiot though I was , I thought I could read in that face all the sweet pain of bondage . I sighed and continued : " The nightingale sings for its sweetheart . . . and I , all alone in this world , who can I sing to ? " Zoe blushed and lowered her eyes . She was acting to perfection the role she was expected to play . We sat on a bench by the stream , beyond which a church glimmered white . Behind the church towered Count Kuldarov 's mansion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ loved . As she sat down on the bench she fixed her gaze on the mansion . My heart sank and shriveled with pity . My God , my God ! May heaven smile on our parents . . . but they should be sent down to hell , for a week at least ! " All my happiness rests on a single person , " I continued . " I feel deeply for that person . . . her perfume . . . I love her , and should she not return my love , then I am lost . . . dead . . . You are that person . Can you love me ? Huh ? Could you love me ? " " I love you , " she whispered . I must confess I almost died . I had thought she would dig in her heels , since she was deeply in love with someone else . I had relied on her passion for the other man , but things turned out quite differently . She was n't strong enough to swim against the tide ! " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into tears . " But , no , that ca n't be ! " I shouted , not knowing what I was saying , my whole body shaking . " How is it possible ? Zoe Andreyevna-do not believe a word of what I said ! My God , do not believe a word ! May I roast in hell if I am in love with you ! And you do not love me ! This is all nonsense ! " I jumped up from the bench . " We need n't go through with this ! This is a farce ! They are forcing us to marry for money , Zoe . What love is there between us ? I would rather have a millstone around my neck than marry you ! It 's as simple as that ! Damn ! What right do they have to do this to us ? What do they think we are ? Serfs ? Dogs ? We wo n't get married ! Damn them , the bastards ! We 've danced to their tune long enough already ! I 'm going to them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ marry you-it 's as simple as that ! " Zoe suddenly stopped crying ; her tears instantly dried up . " I 'm going to tell them right now ! " I continued . " And you tell them , too . Tell them that you do n't love me-that it 's Bolnitsin you love . And I 'll be the first to shake Bolnitsin 's hand . I 'm fully aware of how deeply in love with him you are ! " Zoe smiled happily and came up to me . " And you 're in love with someone else too , are n't you ? " she said , rubbing her hands together . " You 're in love with Mademoiselle De Beux ! " " Yes , " I said , " Mademoiselle De Beux . She 's not Russian Orthodox and she 's not rich , but I love her for her mind and her edifying qualities . My parents can send me to hell , but I will marry her ! I love her , I think I love her even more than I love life @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I ca n't marry her , then I no longer wish to live ! I 'm going right this minute .. let 's both go and tell these fools . . . oh , thank you , my dearest . . . you have comforted me no end ! " My soul was flooded with happiness , and I thanked Zoe again and again , and she thanked me . And both of us , overjoyed , thankful , kissed each other 's hands , commending each other on our high-mindedness . I kissed her hands ; she kissed my forehead , the stubble of my beard . It seems that forgetting all etiquette I even hugged her ! And let me tell you , this declaration of non-love was sweeter than any declaration of love could be ! Joyful , rosy , trembling all over , we rushed to the house to tell our parents of our decision . As we crossed the garden we cheered each other on . " So let them shout at us ! " I said . " They can beat us , even throw @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " We entered the house , and there , by the door , our parents were waiting . They took one look at us , saw how happy we were , and immediately called the butler . He brought in the champagne . I started protesting , waving my arms , stamping my feet . . . Zoe began crying , shrieking . . . there was a tremendous uproar , a rumpus , and we did n't get to drink the champagne . But they married us anyway . Today is our silver wedding anniversary . We have lived together for a quarter of a century . Initially it was terrible . I swore at her , beat her , and then out of regret began loving her . This regret brought with it children . . . and then . . . well . . . we just got used to each other . This very moment my darling Zoe is standing right behind me . Laying her hands on my shoulders , she kisses my bald spot . " Author Affiliation Peter Constantine is an Austrian poet and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Spanish , Modern Greek , and Afrikaans . He lives in New York City . <p> 
##1004268 Night was about to fall . A crowd of coachmen and pilgrims was sitting in uncle Tikhon 's tavern . An autumn downpour with raging wet winds that lashed across their faces had driven them to seek refuge there . The tired , drenched travelers sat listening to the wind , dozing on benches by the wall . Boredom was written on their faces . One coachman , a pockmarked fellow with a scarred face , held a wet accordion on his knees : he played and stopped mechanically . <p> Outside the tavern door , splashes of rain flew around the dim , grimy lantern . The wind howled like a wolf , yelping , as if to tear itself away from its tether by the door . From the yard came the sound of horses snorting and hoofs thudding in the mud . It was dank and cold . <p> Uncle Tikhon , a tall peasant with a fat face and small , drowsy , deep-set eyes , sat behind the counter . In front of him on the other side of the counter stood a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and shabby but respectable . He was wearing a wrinkled summer coat covered with mud , calico pants , and rubber galoshes without shoes . His head , his thin pointed elbows , and the hands jammed into his pockets were shivering feverishly . From time to time a sudden spasm ran down his whole gaunt body , from his horribly haggard face to his rubber galoshes . <p> " For Christ 's sake ! " he said to Tikhon in his scratchy , broken bass . " Give me a drink . . . just a little one , that glass there ! You can put it on my tab ! " <p> " You bet I can ! Nothing but scoundrels in here ! " <p> The scoundrel looked at Tikhon with contempt , with hatred . If he could , he would have murdered him then and there . <p> " You just do n't understand , you lout , you numskull ! It 's not me begging-from deep within my guts , as you say in your peasant lingo ! It 's my illness begging ! Ca @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nothing to see ! Get out ! " <p> " You must understand ! If I do n't get a drink now , if I do n't assuage my passion , I 'm quite capable of committing a crime ! By God , I 'm quite capable ! You bastard , you 've been handing out drinks to drunkards for ages in your damn tavern ! And you 're telling me that till today you never gave a thought to what they were ? Sick people , that 's what ! You can chain them up , beat them , flail them-as long as you give them their vodka ! I humbly beg you ! I implore you ! I 'm demeaning myself . . . Lord , how I am demeaning myself ! " The scoundrel shook his head and spat on the floor . <p> " Give me money and you 'll have your vodka ! " Tikhon said . <p> " Where am I supposed to get money from ? I 've drunk it all ! This coat 's all I 've got left . I ca n't @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ underneath . . . d' you want my hat ? " <p> The scoundrel gave Tikhon his felt hat , whose lining was showing through here and there . Tikhon took the hat , looked at it , and shook his head . <p> " I would n't take this if you gave it to me for nothing ! " he said . " It 's a piece of shit ! " <p> " You do n't like it ? Then give me a drink on credit if you do n't like it . When I come back from town I 'll give you your fiver ! Then you can choke on it ! Yes , choke on it ! " <p> " You trying to con me ? What kind of a man are you ? What did you come here for ? " <p> " I want a drink . Not me , my illness ! Do you understand ? " <p> " Why are you bothering me ? The road outside is full of scum like you ! Go ask them in the name of Christ to give @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the name of Christ is bread ! You swine ! " <p> " You can fleece them , the poor bastards , but me-I 'm sorry , I ca n't take their money ! Not me ! " <p> The scoundrel suddenly stopped , blushed , and turned to the pilgrims . <p> " That 's an idea ! You 're Christians ! Will you sacrifice a fiver ? I beg you from deep within my guts ! I 'm ill ! " <p> " Drink water ! " the small man with the pockmarked face laughed . <p> The scoundrel felt ashamed . He started coughing heavily and then fell silent . A few moments later he started pleading again with Tikhon . Finally he burst into tears and began offering his wet coat for a glass of vodka . In the darkness no one could see his tears , and no one took his coat because among the pilgrims there were women who did not want to see a man 's nakedness . <p> " What am I to do now ? " the scoundrel asked in a quiet @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do ? I have to have a drink , or I might well commit a crime . . . even resort to suicide . . what am I going to do ? " <p> He began pacing up and down . <p> The mail coach rolled up , its bells ringing . The wet postman came in , drank a glass of vodka , and left . The mail coach drove on . <p> " I have something golden I 'll give you , " the scoundrel , suddenly deathly pale , said to Tikhon . " Yes , I 'll give it to you . So be it ! Even if what I 'm doing is low-down , vile-here , take it . I am doing this despicable deed because I 'm beside myself . . . even if I were brought before a court of law I would be forgiven . Take it , but only on one condition : that you give it back to me when I return . I 'm giving it to you before witnesses ! " <p> The scoundrel slid his wet hand inside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ He opened it and glanced at the portrait inside . <p> " I should take the portrait out , but I have nowhere to put it-I 'm soaked . Damn you , take it with the portrait . But on one condition . . . my dear fellow . . . I beg you . . . do n't touch this face with your fingers . I beg you , my dear fellow ! Forgive me for having been so rude to you , for saying the things I said . . . I 'm an idiot . . just do n't touch it with your fingers , and do n't look at the face ! " <p> Tikhon took the medallion , inspected it , and put it in his pocket . <p> " Stolen goods , " he said , and filled a glass . " Well , fine ! Drink ! " <p> The drunkard took the glass in his hand . His eyes flashed , as much as his strength allowed his drunken , bleary eyes to flash , and he drank , drank with feeling , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the portrait , he lowered his eyes with shame and went to a corner . There he perched on a bench next to the pilgrims , curled up , and closed his eyes . <p> Half an hour passed in stillness and silence . Only the wind howled , blowing its autumn rhapsody over the chimney . The women pilgrims were praying and soundlessly settling under the benches for the night . Tikhon opened the medallion and looked at the woman 's face smiling out of the golden frame , at the tavern , at Tikhon , at the bottles . <p> A wagon creaked outside . There was a rattling sound and then the thudding of boots in the mud . A short peasant with a pointed beard came running in . He was wet , wearing a long sheepskin coat covered in mud . <p> " There you go ! " he shouted , banging a fiver down on the counter . " A glass of Madeira ! Make it a good one ! " And rakishly swiveling around on one foot , he ran his eye over the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are you ? Chicken feathers upon thine aunt ! Scared of the rain ? Ha ! Poor things ! Who 's this raisin here ? " <p> He went over to the scoundrel and looked him in the face . <p> " Oh ! Your Lordship ! " he said . " Semyon Sergeyitch ! Good Heavens ! What ? How come you 're hanging about here in this tavern in such a state ? What are you doing here ? Suffering martyr ! " <p> The squire looked at the peasant and covered his face with his sleeve . The peasant sighed , shook his head , waved his hands about in despair , and went to the counter to finish his drink . <p> " That 's our master , " he whispered to Tikhon , nodding toward the scoundrel . " Our landowner , Semyon Sergeyitch . Look at him ! Look what he looks like now ! Ha ! Just look at that ! What drink can do to you ! " <p> The peasant gulped down his drink , wiped his mouth with his sleeve , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Four hundred versts from here , from Akhtilovka. . . my folks were his father 's serfs ! Sad , ai n't it ! His Lordship was such a splendid gentleman . This horse here , the one outside , you see it ? He gave it me ! Ha ! That 's fate for you ! " <p> The coachmen and pilgrims started crowding around the peasant . In a quiet voice , over the noises of autumn , he told them the story . Semyon Sergeyitch remained sitting in the same corner , his eyes closed , muttering to himself . He was listening , too . <p> " It happened because of weakness , " the peasant said , gesticulating with his hands . " Too much good life ! He was a rich gentleman-powerful , in the whole province ! Eat , drink , cartloads ! How many times he drove past this very tavern in his carriage-you must have seen him ! He was rich ! Five years ago he was going through Mikishkinski on a barge , and instead of a fiver he gave the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . Mainly because of a woman . He fell in love , head over heels , with a woman from town-he loved her more than his life . But he did n't fall in love with a shining falcon . She was a black crow . Marya Egorovna , that was that damn woman 's name , and with a strange last name too-you ca n't even pronounce it . He loved her and proposed to her , all God-fearing and correct . Then , they say , she said yes . After all , His Lordship was n't just anybody-he was sober and rolling in money . Then one evening , I remember well , I 'm walking through the garden . I look , and there they are sitting on the bench kissing . He gives her one kiss , and she , the viper , gives him two back ! He kisses her hand , and her , she blushes . Then she squeezes herself close to him , damn her ! I love you , she says , Semyon . . . and Semyon goes about like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fool . . . handing out a ruble here , two there , and me he gave this horse outside ! He was so happy ! He dropped everyone 's debts ! Then came the wedding . They got married all nice and proper . Then , as everyone 's at the dinner , she gets up and goes with the carriage into town to the attorney , who 's her lover . Right after the wedding , the harlot ! At the high point ! Ha ! Then he went nuts , started drinking ! Look at him ! He 's running around like a half-wit thinking of nothing but that harlot ! He loves her ! I bet he 's on his way to town just so he can get a glimpse of her . . . But the other thing , let me tell you , the thing that really ruined him , was his brother-in-law-his sister 's husband . The squire took it into his head to guarantee his brother-in-law with the bank-around thirty thousand he guaranteed ! They say the scoundrel of a brother-in-law knows how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and our master had to pay the whole thirty thousand ! A fool suffers for his foolishness ! His wife had children with her attorney , his brother-in-law bought an estate near Poltava , and our master wanders around from one tavern to the next like a fool , making us all listen to his moaning : Lost have I , dear brothers , my faith in mankind ! There is no one I can , how shall I put it , believe in ! ' Weakness , that 's what it is ! We all have problems ! So , what are we supposed to do-start drinking ? There 's this corporal we used to have in the army . His wife brings the schoolmaster to her house in broad daylightshe spends all her husband 's money on drink . And that corporal walks about grinning . The only effect was he lost some weight ! " <p> " The Lord does not provide everyone with that kind of strength ! " Tikhon said . <p> " Yeah , everyone 's strength is different , that 's true ! " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he finished the tavern was silent . <p> " Hey , you . . . how 're you feeling ? You unlucky man ! Here , drink ! " Tikhon said , turning to the squire . <p> The squire came up to the counter and drank the vodka with delight . <p> " Give me the medallion for a second , " he whispered to Tikhon . " Just one look and . . . I 'll give it back to you ! " <p> Tikhon frowned , and without saying a word handed him the medallion . The fellow with the pockmarked face sighed , shook his head , and asked for a vodka . <p> " Have a drink , Your Lordship ! Hmm ! Life is good without vodka , but it 's even better with it ! With vodka even sorrow 's not sorrow ! Drink up ! " <p> After five glasses the squire sat down in his comer , opened the medallion , and with clouded , drunken eyes looked for the beloved face . But the face was gone . It had fallen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The lantern flared up and went out . In the comer a woman pilgrim was mumbling in delirium . The fellow with the pockmarked face prayed aloud and then lay down on the bench . Another traveler came in . The rain poured and poured . It got colder and colder , and it seemed as if there would be no end to this vile , dark autumn . The squire was still staring at the medallion , looking for the woman 's face . The candle went out . <p> Spring , where are you ? <p> 
##1004269 a ) Election of new chairman of the Association . b ) Discussion of the October 2nd incident . c ) Synopsis of the activities of member Dr. M. H. von Bronn. d ) Routine matters concerning the Association . <p> Doctor Shelestov , the culprit in the October 2nd incident , is getting ready to go to the meeting . He has been standing for a long time in front of the mirror , trying to give his face a languid look . If he were to turn up at the meeting with a face that looked concerned , tense , red , or slightly pale , then his enemies would deduce that he was affected by their intrigues . If his face were cold , impassive , as if he had had a good night 's sleep , the kind of face that people have who are untouched by the toils and strife of life , then all his enemies would secretly be overcome with respect and think : His proud rebellious head doth rise higher Than the giddying heights of Napoleon 's monument . Like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he would arrive at the meeting later than all the others . He would enter the room quietly , languidly pass his hand through his hair , and without looking at a single person take a seat at the very end of the table . Assuming the pose of the bored listener , he would suppress a yawn , pick up a newspaper , and start reading . Everyone would be talking , arguing , boiling over , calling each other to order-but he would remain silent , reading his newspaper . Finally , as his name was repeated more and more often and the burning question turned white hot , he would lift his bored , weary eyes and say to his colleagues , reluctantly : " You are forcing me to speak . . . Gentlemen , I have not prepared a speech , so please bear with me-my words can not do this scandal justice . I shall begin ab ovo . At the last meeting some of our esteemed colleagues asserted that I do not conduct myself in an appropriate manner during medical consultations , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ opinion that I need not proffer justifications , and that the accusations are nothing but unscrupulous ploys , I asked that my name be removed from the membership roster of the Association and subsequently resigned . Now , however , that a whole series of new accusations are being leveled against me I find , to my great regret , that I am forced to offer an explanation after all . With your permission , I shall explain . " At this point , carelessly twirling a pencil or a chain , he would say that yes , in actual fact it was true that during consultations he had sometimes been known to raise his voice and attack colleagues , regardless of who was present . It was also true that once , during a consultation , in the presence of doctors and family members , he had asked the patient : " Who was the idiot who prescribed opium for you ? " Rare was a consultation without incident . . . But why was this ? The answer was simple ! In these consultations he , Shelestov , was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . There were thirty-two doctors in town , most of whom knew less than a first-year medical student . One did n't have to look far for examples . Needless to say , nomina sunt odiosaone does not wish to name names-but as they were among themselves at the meeting , and he did not want to appear a scandalmonger , names would be mentioned . For instance , everyone was aware that our esteemed colleague von Bronn pierced the esophagus of Madam Seryozhkina , the official s wife , when he inserted a probe . At that point von Bronn would jump up , wring his hands , and cry out : " My dear colleague , you were the one who stabbed her , not I ! I 'll prove it ! " Shelestov would ignore him and continue : " Furthermore , as everyone is aware , our esteemed colleague Zhila mistook the actress Semiramidina 's floating kidney for an abscess and undertook a probing puncture . The immediate result was exitus letalis-lethal consequences ! Our esteemed friend Besstrunko , instead of removing the nail from the big @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the right foot . I am also pressed to recall the case in which our esteemed colleague Terkhayantz catheterized the soldier Ivanov 's eustachian tubes with such vigor that both his eardrums exploded . I would also like to remind you that this very same colleague of ours , while extracting a tooth , dislocated the patient 's lower jaw and would n't reset it until the patient agreed to pay him five rubles for the procedure . Our esteemed colleague Kuritsin , who is married to the pharmacist Grummer 's niece , is running a racket with him . Everyone is also aware that the secretary of our Association , your young friend Skoropalitelni , is living with the wife of our highly valued and esteemed chairman Gustav Gustavovitch Prechtel . . . You will notice that I have delicately moved from discussing lack of medical knowledge to unethical behavior . I have no choice ! Ethics is our weak point , gentlemen , and so as not to appear a mere scandalmonger I will call to your attention our esteemed colleague Puzirkov , who at Colonel Treshinskoy 's @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was living with our chairman 's wife but I ! The effrontery of Mr. Puzirkov , whom I myself caught last year with the wife of our esteemed colleague Dr. Znobish ! Speaking of Znobish-Who is it that uses his position as a doctor and ca n't quite be trusted when treating ladies ? Znobish ! Who is it that married a merchant 's daughter for her dowry ? Znobish ! And as for our highly esteemed chairman , he secretly dabbles in homeopathy and receives money from the Prussians for espionage ! A Prussian spy-that is the ultima ratio ! " When doctors wish to appear clever and eloquent they use two Latin expressions : nomina sunt odiosa and ultima ratio . Shelestov would drop not only Latin words but French and German ones as well-whatever you want . He would steer everyone to clear waters , rip the masks off the intriguers " faces . The chairman would ring his bell till he was exhausted-esteemed colleagues would be flying up from their seats all over the place , yelling and waving their arms ; colleagues of every denomination would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Not batting an eyelash , Shelestov would continue : " And as for this Association , its current membership and organization being what it is , it is inevitably headed for destruction . Its whole structure is based exclusively on intrigues . Intrigues , intrigues , intrigues ! I , as one of the victims of a mass of demonic intrigues , consider myself bound to expound the following . . . " He would go on expounding , and his supporters would applaud and clasp their hands together in exultation . At this point , with an unimaginable uproar and peals of thunder , the voting for the new chairman would commence . Von Bronn and his cohorts would heatedly support Prechtel , but the public and the ethical group of doctors would boo them and shout : " Down with Prechtel ! We want Shelestov ! Shelestov ! " Shelestov would consent , but on condition that Prechtel and von Bronn ask his forgiveness for the October 2nd incident . Again there would be an unimaginable clamor , and again the esteemed colleagues of the Jewish faith would fall @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " Prechtel and von Bronn , seething with indignation , would end up resigning from the Association . Not that he would care ! Shelestov would end up as chairman . First he would clean out the Augean Stables . Znobish-out ! Terkhayantz-out ! The esteemed colleagues of the Jewish denomination-out ! With his supporters he would see to it that by January not a single intriguer would be left in the Association . The first thing he would do would be to have the walls of the Association 's clinic painted and hang up a sign saying " Absolutely No Smoking . " Then he would fire the medical attendant and his wife , and medicine would henceforth be ordered not from the Grummer pharmacy but from the Khryashchambzhitskov pharmacy . All doctors would be forbidden to perform operations without his supervision , etc ... And most important , he would have visiting cards printed saying " Chairman of the Association of Doctors . " Thus Shelestov dreams as he stands at home in front of his mirror . But the clock strikes seven , reminding him that it is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ awake from his sweet thoughts and hurriedly tries to give his face a languid expression , but-alas ! He tries to make his face languid and interesting , but it does not obey and instead becomes sour and dull , like the face of a shivering mongrel puppy . He tries to make his face look firm , but it resists and expresses bewilderment , and it seems to him now that he does not look like a puppy but like a goose . He lowers his eyelids , narrows his eyes , puffs up his cheeks , knits his brow , but all to no avail . . . damn ! . . he can not get the right expression . Obviously , the innate characteristics of that face are such that you ca n't do much with them . His forehead is narrow ; his small eyes flit about nervously , like those of a cunning market-woman ; his lower jaw juts out somehow absurdly and stupidly ; and his cheeks and hair give the impression that this " esteemed colleague " has just been kicked out of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into a rage , and begins sensing that his face is plotting against him . He goes out into the hall , and as he is putting on his coat , his galoshes , and his hat , he feels that they are intriguing against him too . " Cabbie , to the clinic ! " He hands the cabbie twenty kopecks , and the intriguing cabby asks for twenty-five . He sits in the droshky going down the street ; the cold wind beats him in the face , the wet snow flies into his eyes , the horse drags its feet . Everything is conspiring to intrigue against him . Intrigues , intrigues , intrigues ! 
##1004270 The post train races full speed from the HappyTrach-Tararach station to the Run-for-YourLife station . The locomotive whistles , hisses , puffs , snorts ; the cars shake , and their unoiled wheels howl like wolves and screech like owls ! Darkness is over the skies , over the earth , and in the cars . " Something-will-happen , something-will-happen , " the wagons hammer , rattling with age . " Ohohohoho ! " the locomotive joins in . Pickpockets and cold drafts sweep through the wagons . Terrible ! I stick my head out the window and look aimlessly into the endless expanse . All the lights are green , but somewhere down the line I 'm sure all hell will break loose . The signal disk and the station lights are not yet visible . Darkness , anguish , thoughts of death , memories of childhood , oh God ! <p> " I have sinned ! " I whisper , " I have sinned ! " I feel a hand slip into my back pocket . The pocket is empty , but still it 's horrifying @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to me . He is wearing a straw hat and a dark gray shirt . <p> " Can I help you ? " I ask him , patting my hands over my pockets . <p> " No , I 'm just looking out the window ! " he answers , pulling back his hand and leaning against my back . <p> There is a powerful , earsplitting whistle . The train slows and slows , and finally it stops . I get out of the car and walk over to the station buffet for a drink to bolster my courage . The buffet is bustling with passengers and train workers . <p> " A vodka , sweet and easy ! " the thickset chief conductor says , turning to a fat gentleman . The fat gentleman wants to say something but ca n't : his year-old sandwich is stuck in his throat . <p> " Poli-i-i-ce ! Poli-i-i-ce ! " someone outside on the platform is shouting , as in primordial times , before the Deluge , hungry mastodons , ichthyosaurs , and plesiosaurs would have bellowed . I go to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on his hat is standing outside one of the first-class cars pointing to his feet . Someone swiped the poor man 's shoes and socks while he was sleeping . <p> " What am I going to do ? " he shouts . " I have to go all the way to Revel ! Can you believe this ? " A policeman , standing in front of him , informs him , " It 's against the rules to shout here . " I climb back into my car , No. 224 . It 's exactly as it was : dark , the sound of snoring , tobacco and soot in the air-the smell of Mother Russia . A red-haired inspector traveling to Kiev from Ryazan is snoring next to me . . . a few feet away from him a pretty girl is dozing . . . a peasant in a straw hat snorts , puffs , changes position , and does n't know where to put his long legs . . . in the corner someone is munching , and loudly smacking his lips . Under the benches people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wrinkly little old women come hobbling in with bundles on their backs . . . <p> " Here ! Let 's sit here ! " one of them says . " Ooh , it 's dark ! Temptations from Below ! Oops , I stepped on someone ! . . . but where is Pakhom ? " <p> " Pakhom ? Oh , good gracious ! Where has he got to now ! Oh , good gracious ! " <p> The little old woman bustles about , opens the window , and looks up and down the platform . <p> " Pa-a-a-khom ! " she brays . " Where are you ? Pakhom ! We 're over here ! " <p> " I have a pro-o-o-blem ! " a voice calls from outside . " They wo n't let me on ! " <p> " They wo n't let you on ? Cowshit ! No one can stop you , you have a real ticket ! " " They 've stopped selling tickets ! The ticket office is closed ! " <p> Someone leads a horse up the platform . There @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ! " the policeman shouts . " Get off immediately ! Nothing but trouble ! " <p> " Petrovna ! " Pakhom moans . <p> Petrovna drops her bundle , takes hold of a large tin teapot and quickly runs out of the car . The second bell rings . A little conductor with a black mustache comes in . <p> " You 're going to have to get a ticket , " he whispers to the old man sitting opposite me . " The controller just got on ! " <p> " Really ! Oh . . . That 's bad ! . . . What , the Prince himself ? " <p> " The Prince ? Ha , you could beat him with a stick , he 'd never come to do an inspection himself . " <p> " So , who is it ? The one with the beard ? " " Yes , him . " <p> " Well , if it 's him , that 's fine . He 's a good man ! " " It 's up to you . " " Are there @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " <p> " I say , good for them ! Fast workers ! " <p> My heart constricts . I 'm a ride-hopper , too . I always hop rides . On the railroads the ridehoppers are those passengers who prefer to " inconvenience " conductors with money rather than pay the cashier at the station . Being a ride-hopper is great , dear reader . The unwritten rule is that ride-hoppers get a 75 percent discount . Furthermore , they do n't have to line up at ticket windows or take their ticket out of their pocket every few minutes , and the conductor is much more courteous to them . . . in a nutshell , it 's the best way to travel ! <p> " What 's the point of paying whatever , whenever ? " the old man mumbles . " Never ! I always pay the conductor directly ! The conductor needs money more than the railroad does ! " The third bell rings . <p> " Oh dear , oh dear ! " the little old woman whines . " Where on earth is Petrovna @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ! We 've lost her ! We 've lost her , poor dear ! And her things are still here . . . what am I going to do with her things , with her bag ! Heavens above , we 've lost her . " ' <p> The little old woman thinks for a moment . " If she ca n't get on , she 'll need it ! " she says and throws Petrovna 's bag out the window . <p> The train sets off for Khaldeyevo , which according to my Frum tourist guide is no more than a common grave . The controller and the chief conductor enter , carrying candles . " Ti-i-i-ckets , " the chief conductor shouts . The controller turns to me and the old man : " Your tickets ! " <p> We shrink back , stoop over , rummage through our pockets , and then stare at the chief conductor , who winks at us . <p> " Get their tickets ! " the controller says to the conductor and marches on . We are saved . " Tickets ! You @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nudges a sleeping young man . The young man wakes up and pulls the yellow ticket out of his hat . <p> " Where 're you going ? " the controller asks , twirling the ticket in his fingers . " This is n't where we 're going ! " <p> " You blockhead , this is n't where we 're going ! " the chief conductor chimes in . " You got on the wrong train , you idiot ! You 're supposed to be heading for Zhivoderevo , and we 're heading for Khaldeyevo ! Here 's your ticket back ! You should keep your eyes open ! " <p> The young man blinks , looks dully at the smiling crowd , and starts rubbing his eyes . " Do n't cry ! " people tell him . " You 'd better ask them to help you ! A big lout like you , probably even married with children , howling like that ! " <p> " Ti-i-i-ckets ! " the chief conductor shouts at a farmer with a top hat . " What ? " <p> " Your @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ticket ? You need it ? " " Your ticket ! " <p> " I see . . . No , definitely , why not if you need it ! " The farmer with the top hat reaches into his vest , quickly pulls out a greasy piece of paper , and hands it over to the controller . <p> " What are you giving me here ? This is your passport ! I want to see your ticket ! " " This is all I have ! " the farmer answers , visibly shaken . <p> " How can you travel when you do n't have a ticket ? " <p> " But I 've paid . " <p> " What do you mean you paid ? Whom did you pay ? " <p> " The c-con-condunctor . " " Which conductor ? " <p> " How the devil am I supposed to know which c-con-condunctor ? Some condunctor , it 's as simple as that . . . You do n't need a ticket , he said , you can travel without one . . . so I did @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we 'll discuss this further at the station . Madam , your ticket ! " The door creaks , opens , and to everyone 's surprise Petrovna enters . <p> " Oh Lord , what a hard time I had finding my compartment . . how 's one supposed to tell them apart , they all look the same . . . And they did n't let Pakhom get on , the snakes . . . Where 's my bag ? " <p> " Oh ! . . . Temptations from Below ! . . . I threw it out the window for you . I thought we 'd left you behind ! " <p> " You threw it where ? " <p> " Out the window . How was I to know ? " " Oh , thank you very much ! Who told you to do that , you old hag ! May the Lord forgive me ! What am I going to do ? Why did n't you throw your own bag out , you bitch ! It 's your ugly mug you should have thrown out the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ! " <p> " You 'll have to send a telegram from the next station ! " the laughing crowd suggests . Petrovna starts wailing loudly and spouting profanities . Her friend , also crying , is clutching her bag . The conductor comes in . <p> " Whose things are these ? " he shouts , holding up Petrovna 's bag . <p> " Pret-t-t-y ! " the old man sitting opposite whispers to me , nodding his head at the pretty girl . " Mmm . . . pret-t-y . . . pity I do n't have any chloroform on me ! One whiff and she 'd be out ! Then I could kiss her for all I 'm worth ! " <p> The man in the straw hat stirs uncomfortably and in a loud voice curses his long legs . " Scientists , " he mumbles . " Scientists . . . you ca n't fight the nature of things . . . scientists ! Ha ! How come they have n't come up with something so we can screw our legs on and off at will ? @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me . . . Speak to the public prosecutor ! " the inspector sitting next to me shouts . <p> In the far corner two high-school boys , a noncommissioned officer , and a blue-eyed young man are huddled together playing a game of cards by the light of their cigarettes . <p> A tall lady is sitting haughtily to my right . She reeks of powder and patchouli . " Oh , how absolutely divine it is to be en route , " some goose is whispering into her ear , her voice sugary. . . nauseatingly sugary . . Frenchifying her g 's , n 's , and r 's . " One 's rapprochement is never as quick and as charming as it is when one is en route . Oh , how I do love being en route ! " A kiss . . . another . . . what the hell is going on ? The pretty girl wakes up , looks around , and unconsciously rests her head against the man sitting next to her , the devotee of Justice . . . but the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ halt . " The train will be stopping for two minutes ! " a hoarse bass voice mutters outside the railroad car . Two minutes pass , two more . . . Five minutes pass , ten , twenty , and the train is still standing . What the hell 's going on ! I get off the train and make my way to the locomotive . <p> " Ivan Matevitch ! Get a move on ! Damn ! " the chief conductor shouts from the locomotive . <p> The engine driver crawls out from under the locomotive , red , wet , a piece of soot sticking to his nose . . . <p> " Damn you ! Damn you ! " he shouts up at the chief conductor . " Get off my back ! Are you blind ? Ca n't you see what 's going on ? God ! Ahh . . . I wish you 'd all go to hell ! This is supposed to be a locomotive ? This is no locomotive , it 's a pile of junk ! I 'm not traveling any further @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ do ? " <p> " You can do whatever you like ! How about getting another locomotive-I refuse to travel on this one ! Do n't you understand ? " <p> The driver 's helpers run around the brokendown engine , banging , shouting . . . the station chief in a red cap tells Jewish jokes to his assistant . . . it starts to rain . . . I head back to my railroad car . . . the stranger in the straw hat and the dark gray shirt rushes by . . . he 's carrying a suitcase . God . . . it 's my suitcase ! <p> 