Artiom sat silently and rocked gently back and forth.
“Well, at least now I have two spoons, Artiom,” Vasilii Petrovich concluded, though by his intonation it was clear that he wasn’t thinking about spoons, but about something else.
Curly’s scream rose up; he was letting Krapin have it.
“You had a homeless kid living under your bunks! Maybe the counter-revs can organize a headquarters down there? Your discipline’s off! Your work is off! What is it you do again, Krapin? I’m writing you up today! In the meantime, get yourself under those bunks, examine the situation down there! Then you can let me know who else is down there!
Curly was mocking him; his voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Krapin was quiet.
Vasilii Petrovich nudged Artiom, as though to say that it’s time to go outside befor
