Perestroika Pt 03

Chapter 3 - A Wealth of Nations

December 4

th

, 1998 - The Promethean Research Organisation Facility, Level B5.

"You've done well so far," said a stocky middle-aged Polish man in a lab-coat. He had introduced himself in the expected style - by kissing their hands - and informed them that they could call him Stanisław. "You've certainly earned our respect. Your dedication to your country and your way of life is admirable."

They were seated in an old theatre - the kind they used to crowd soldiers in to see newsreel footage.

"When are you going to tie us up?" said Anna. "I'm starting to enjoy it."

She knew Anna was being facetious, but Sofiya laughed nervously because it wasn't a joke for her. While she still had full control of her faculties, this place was getting to her - making her think unsocialist, perverted things.

"Please try to take this seriously, ladies," said the second man, a Lithuanian defector named Lukas. "This might be your last chance at getting out of here alive."

There were few things Sofiya hated more than a traitor to the Motherland. The Lithuanians - like all of the Baltic peoples of the USSR - had been preemptively saved from the cruel ravages of Adolf Hitler by Joseph Stalin. Then, later, they were post-emptively saved from the cruel ravages of Adolf Hitler by Joseph Stalin. They should be eternally grateful for that twice over, yet here they were, collaborating with the enemy.

"I'd be more worried about you getting out of here alive. Haven't you learned anything yet? We will never give in. We will never surrender."

The two men smiled.

"I think I know you better than you think. I am a Slav and a worker - just like you. Lukas was a citizen of the Soviet Union, he knows what it's like there. Will you deny that you're curious to know what's really going in here - what the purpose of this facility is? If you hear us out here, I promise to...

enlighten you

."

The Russian spies looked at each other and shrugged.

In for a ruble, in for one hundred rubles,

she thought.

The projector lit up the silver screen with a map of Europe - an old one. It must have been from before the Russian Revolution, but history wasn't Sofiya's strong suit. There was a large shaded area stretching from somewhere in Central Europe to the Baltic sea and down as far as the modern USSR.

Stanisław began speaking.

"This country you see before you was one of the most powerful and progressive states Europe has ever known. 1619 - the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Both Poland Lithuania were among Europe's most powerful and prestigious nations at the time, but were surrounded on all sides by enemies hungry for their land."

Sofiya couldn't help herself. She laughed.

"What's so funny?" said Lukas.

"Oh nothing," said Anna, joining in with her own snickering. "It's just - the idea of Lithuania being important is... well it's a little far fetched, isn't it?"

Lukas slammed his fist.

"Lithuania is a joke to you?"

"Calm yourself, Lukas," said Stanisław. "These women are products of a Russo-supremacist education. You remember what it's like."

Lukas unclenched his fist and paced back to the projector to move to the next slide. This one looked more familiar - a map of the First World War, perhaps.

"This map shows the state of Europe in 1900. This part here, the Hapsburg realm, was-"

"A reactionary bourgeois monarchy," Anna interjected.

If Sofiya were an American, she would have given the gesture of camaraderie and support that they call a 'high five'. Monarchies were a blight upon the earth in any form. The idea of one unelected person holding so much power, and for their whole life - was simply disgusting. The dictatorship of the proletariat was the only fair way to administer a nation as it transitioned to the end state of communism.

"A monarchy, yes," said Stanisław. "But also an experiment in federalism and the relationship between nationalism and power. We learned much from them."

The slide changed again. This one she definitely recognised. It was a map of the Russian civil war.

"This area here, down in the southern portion is the Ukrainian People's Republic, circa 1917."

"I was born there," said Anna.

"You were born in the Ukrainian SSR," replied Stanisław.

"A technicality."

"No, it is an important distinction," said Stanisław. "The Ukrainian People's Republic was an independent socialist country, not beholden to Moscow. It was conquered by Lenin, along with most of the other states that emerged from the collapse of the Empire."

"Lies," said Anna. "All of the Soviets were incorporated voluntarily, as they all rejected nationalism and acknowledged the practical, convenient superiority of the central government in Moscow. I won't hear any more of this nonsense. You can send me back to my cell right now."

"I don't expect you to accept the truth straight away," said Stanisław. "But I have heard you speak, Anna. I can hear the Ukrainian accent you try to hide. Do you not feel something for the nation of your birth? A longing to return, a fondness for it's land and it's people?"

"Nationalism is a tool that the capitalist classes use to divide people and prevent them from discovering class solidarity," Sofiya interjected.

"And in any case, we're both Russian," said Anna, perhaps a little too defensively. "The greatest and most advanced nation of the Soviet Union. It is our role to guide and support our brotherly peoples."

The two men looked genuinely saddened by this.

"It seems that her Ukrainian blood is thin," said Lukas. "Should I prepare two bags?"

"Ukrainian or Russian - my blood runs red, the same as yours," said Anna.

"Oh, my beautiful, innocent girl, you will soon find out exactly what my blood is like," said Stanisław. "Yes Lukas, two bags please."

"Are you going to keep your end of the deal?" said Sofiya. "We've asked you to take us back now."

"Ah, but our little history lesson is not yet complete," said the Pole. Sofiya was torn between rolling her eyes and yawning, and strove to do both at the same time.

"Across three wars, Austria, Prussia and Russia took part in three grand partitions of Poland. For centuries we lived under their boot. But the First World War provided us with an opportunity to prove to the world that Poland was not yet lost."

"Yes, and then Poland invaded the USSR in a vain effort to conquer Ukraine. And ten years later Hitler invaded Poland. I know the story."

"You don't even know half of the story," he spat back. "Two weeks after Germany invaded from the west, the Russians invaded from the east."

Sofiya couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was a disgusting distortion of the true events.

"The Red Army entered Poland only as a humanitarian gesture, to protect minority groups in the east from the invading Germans. You should be thanking us!"

The Pole laughed heartily.

"Oh yes, we thank you. From Katyn to Warsaw, we praise our benevolent Russian saviours."

"Why does your voice drip with such venom?" said Anna. "I'm always hearing nonsense like this from Polish citizens. For fifty years, we have been brothers and sisters in Socialism. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"My whole life's work has been resisting your empire, and witnessing it's ultimate downfall will be my greatest pleasure."

"Are you done?" said Anna. "When will you tell us what this is really all about instead of boring us with this fascistic revisionism?"

"But Anna, history is exactly what it's about. Did you see the sign on the way in, by any chance?"

She shook her head.

"The Promethean Research Institute," said Sofiya. "But I fail to understand the significance."

"Then allow me to explain. Between the restoration of Poland and it's conquest by Stalin, much thought was put into the question of how Poland could endure. The USSR and Germany both despised us. They were so much larger than the nations of Eastern Europe - especially the Soviet Union. And so, the idea was born - to break up the USSR into it's constituent parts and to liberate the oppressed nations from Russian tyranny. This plan, this ideology, was called 'Prometheism'."

It all made sense - why everybody was here together, in one place. This was the one thing the Catholics and the Americans and the Poles could all agree on - they all hated Russia, to their very core, for very mean and unfair reasons.

"So, you've all come here to work out how you can achieve the destruction of the Soviet Union."

"Yes," said Stanisław, smiling broadly. "And our final victory draws ever nearer."

The Lithuanian returned from the other room, wheeling in an IV drip. Anna and Sofiya looked at each other.

"What the Trotsky is this?" Sofiya demanded.

"This," said Lukas, suddenly raising an aerosol can up to her face, "is the part where we tie you up."

The spray caught her off-guard, and she inhaled deeply. Whatever it was, it was fast acting.

"You..." she said, coughing. "You bastard... you..."

Darkness took her.

When she came to, the first thing she noticed was the pain in her arm. Her eyes were too weak to open, forcing her to focus on the second thing - the music.

It almost sounded like traditional Russian music. It brought back memories of her joyous childhood in Leningrad. But the closer she listened, the more unnerving it became. There was something was subtly off about it. Her trained KGB ear noticed that there were foreign, subversive elements hiding within the melody and rhythm.

This wasn't Russian Music - it was

Ukrainian

. A pit formed in her stomach. Nothing good could come of such things.

She gained enough control of her muscles to open her eyes, which were struggling to focus. But it was enough to notice that she was hooked up to the IV drip, and a strange blue liquid from the bag was slowly seeping inside of her. And not just her - Anna was receiving the same treatment.

She could feel it inside her - or at least she thought she could. It was a slightly cold sensation in her left arm, radiating outwards from the point of penetration. It was the slightest hint of decadence, a whisper of greed, the shadow of anger and resentment. The dull throbbing pain was getting worse. She panicked and struggled, but she was still so weak. The sturdy metal bindings were not going to budge. Sofiya looked over to her

tovarish

, and that made her even more concerned.

Anna was

not

struggling. She looked... content. She looked happy.

"You seem scared, Sofiya. What's the matter? Don't you like the music?" said the Pole. His Polish accent seemed softer now, less harsh to her ears.

Her eyes could now focus well enough to see that he had changed his outfit. Gone was the simple lab-coat. In it's place was a preposterous ensemble; plate armour adorned with traces of gold, a metal helmet and a bold red undercoat. It took a moment before she realised that the large moving shapes directly behind him were

wings

attached to his armour. They were formed of a metal frame in a squared-off 'U' shape with what seemed to be real feathers stuck into them.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he continued. "The Winged Hussars were the envy of the world. But don't look at me. Look at the screen."

He moved behind her, and her eyes found their natural focus with the images projected onto the silver screen. Fields of yellow wheat contrasting against clear blue skies. A few frames of something else would flash between the clear images - burning flags, she thought, but it was too fast to get a clear view.

"What are you... doing... to us?" she said.

"I'm sharing my gift with you, Sofiya."

"Your... gift?"

"Yes, my gift. You see, the Muscovite culture you call 'Russian' and the southern culture you call 'Ukrainian' were formed under particular conditions. The former, under Mongol rule. The latter, under the influence of Poland and Lithuania."

Sofiya's head was running in circles.

"My project here aims to recreate this influence - biologically. What you feel flowing into you now is purified blood taken from Lukas and myself."

"You... you cannot mean..."

"Yes, my sweet little flower. You are experiencing

Ukrainization

. Soon this music and these images you're seeing will make you feel every bit as happy as Anna. It will feel like home. It will remind you of your childhood. You will feel an unshakeable bond, a kinship with Poland."

"

Nyet

... you must stop..." she said, as the pain worsened again. "This goes against everything I stand for... My body will reject it!"

"That is unlikely. Poles and Russians are both Slavic peoples, and all Polish blood is negative. It is perfectly suited to convert Russian sluts like you into loyal and patriotic Ukrainians."

"Sir, she doesn't seem like she's taking to it as fast as Anna," said Lukas.

"I am not blind, fool. That one already had subconscious Ukrainian sympathies. Of course her mind is taking to the identity like a sponge to water," he said. "Let us see how they enjoy the rest of the show."

Sofiya reached out with her foot to kick Anna's chair, but couldn't quite get there.

"Anna? Anna! You have to listen to me. We have to fight this!"

When Anna finally broke her silence, she barely recognised her voice. It sounded provincial and uncultured - not like the brilliant university educated woman she knew.

"I don't know if I can fight it, Sofiya. I don't know if I want to."

The bound blonde sat there, slack jawed, watching the projector screen. The transitions became more violent. Interspersed between pictures of Odessa and the Black Sea coast were the black flags of the anarchist

Makhnovshchina.

Traditional Ukrainian pastries blurred into horse drawn carts with Maxim guns firing upon Red Army formations. Sofiya could barely stand to look, but Anna seemed hopelessly captivated.

"I'm so sorry,

Babusya

," said Anna, tears flowing out of her eyes. "I was so ashamed of you. I was so ashamed of the old ways. But I understand now!"

Whatever it was she understood, Sofiya was now having trouble understanding her in turn. The emphasis of her syllables was shifting. Strange words were entering her lexicon.

"... home...

Kava

... I must ...

Snidanok

...

Tak

!"

It was hopeless. She was speaking unintelligible nonsense. Was her friend truly lost to this bourgeois nationalism? Had the Catholics and Capitalists worn down her will to resist, or had she always harboured a trace of Ukraine in her heart, as the mad Polish Hussar proclaimed? Shattering her train of thought, Anna began softly speaking along to the music.

"

Shche ne vmerla Ukrainy i slava, i volia.

Shche nam, brattia molodii, usmikhnet'sia dolia.

"

Sofiya tried to plug her ears, but could not. To the refined Russian mind, it was worse than nails on a chalkboard. The arm where this luciferic foreign blood was entering burned with every syllable uttered, as though excited by it.

"

Zhynuť nashi vorizhen'ky, yak rosa na sontsi,

Zapanuyem i my, brattia, u svoiy storontsi.

"

It went on for a while longer. Sofiya struggled not to scream. Finally, the music came to a halt. Sweat dripped off her forehead and she breathed raggedly.

"A beautiful song, is it not? It was composed by a Catholic Priest," said Stanisław. He turned to Jakob. "Do you have the test ready?"

He nodded, and handed over a sheet of paper. The Pole clanked his way in front of them and held it up before their eyes.

"Engels above, what is that?!" said Sofiya.

It was a pair of words, but Sofiya's language processing centres were staging their very own October revolution just looking at them. It was complete gibberish.

"I want you to try to pronounce this," said Stanisław, looking at Anna. He had switched from Russian to Polish, as it was clear that Anna could no longer reply in that tongue.

Anna leaned forwards a little and looked over the words for a moment.

"Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz," she enunciated slowly. "Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz," she said, more quickly and confidently the second time. Anna looked delighted by the feeling of the strange West Slavic words on her tongue.

Hearing it was worse than looking at it. Sofiya was worried she might pass out if it was repeated again.

"Just so!" said the man, excitedly. The happiness they seemed to be sharing looking at each other churned Sofiya's stomach even more.

The men began unhooking Anna from the drip, its work evidently done. The metal wing-frame attached to Stanisław kept bumping into things and making clanging noises. They lifted up her chin to meet their eyes, and she cooperated enthusiastically.

"Congratulations are in order, child of the Borderlands. Now I must ask you to do something," said Stanisław.

"

Tak

, speak it and it shall be done," she said, gazing up longingly into his eyes.

"It is time to make the pledge."

"Anna, no! Please!"

Freed from her restraints, Anna took one dramatic, deliberate step back, then knelt before Stanisław. In his shining armour he was a vision of supreme confidence, standing proud before the brainwashed blonde beauty, while Lukas watched on from several paces, biting his fingernails.

"As a subject of Ukraine, do you vow to serve Poland with your heart, your body, and your soul?"

"In this life, and the next, I will serve," she replied.

"Do you acknowledge the superiority of the West and all its pleasures?"

"It is and shall always be so."

"Do you dedicate your life to the destruction of all that is good and Russian in the world?"

"I will stop at nothing."

"Then rise, Hanna of Ukraine. Rise in the name of Jagiellon and obey!"

They were even Ukrainizing her name! Sofiya steeled herself.

These monsters must be stopped

, she thought. She was going to break out of here. She was going to rescue Anna and find a way to undo this separatist brainwashing. She was going to kill these men - and all the others involved in these vile perversions of science. She flailed against her restraints, then again, then again.

"We will teach you to speak Russian again, but for now, we will need to deal with your friend here."

"She is no friend of mine," said Anna. She stormed up to Sofiya and looked her in the eye. They were bloodshot. They were rabid. They were Ukrainian. There was a fire behind those eyes - the zeal of the convert. "She is a

Rosiysʹka

," Anna continued.

The words were uttered with such disdain. She didn't need a translator to understand the foreign word that had slipped into her Polish sentence. Sofiya couldn't believe how quickly this had all happened. How quickly her friend and

tovarish

had turned on her.

They were right. She wasn't Anna anymore.

"Tell me, Hanna," the Maniacal Polish Doctor-come-17th-century-cavalryman began, "Tell me what you think we should do to this prisoner."

"Say the word, my Liege. I long to choke the life out of her. All of the enemies of Poland must be destroyed," said Hanna.

"No, my eager little soldier. We are to keep this one alive. You will help us to overcome her resistance to the conversion process," said Stanisław.

"Poland's will be done," she replied, though she was obviously disappointed.

"We could probably increase the dosage a little," said Lukas, still cautiously avoiding standing too close to the new convert. He hopped past and tweaked one of the dials on her drip.

"I will never give in," said Sofiya.

"We shall see," said the Pole. "Hanna, I would like to give another of my gifts to you. Another of my precious bodily fluids."

Hanna dropped to her knees again without hesitation. It must have hurt to be constantly getting up and down like that. He fished out his average sized 13.97 centimetre penis from beneath his highly elaborate undercoat and assorted bottoms and stuffed it in Hanna's mouth. Sofiya looked away. Her Ukrainized former partner and friend slobbered hungrily over it like it was the tastiest treat she'd ever had. She sucked it like she'd been in a desert without water for two days.