SNOWBABES OF IVDEL

SNOWBABES OF IVDEL - episode 4

Further Serov again had a lapse of memory. He didn’t remember how they went out of the lane and how came into the tavern, suspending by obliging Moses. But he regain consciousness, sitting at the table with a glass in his hand next to equally bleary-eyed al-Faraday.

“…And you know, all here at us are either Russian or Jews?” was telling to al-Faraday insidious and drunk Ivdel.    

“But who are they?” was surprised Ali, realizing that it’s for some reason is interesting to him.

“What is it – who?” misunderstood Ivdel.

“Well, I mean these Jews and Russian who they are?”

“Why? Your question is, excuse me, a stupid one, you know. They are… Well, I myself don’t know, who they are. It is said nothing in books. But asking questions about this is also even improperly. Jews and Russians are two peoples, chosen by God.”

“Ah, so you still believe in God?” asked drunken Serov sweetly.

“No, we believe only in snowbabes!”

“And what’s the connection with Russians and Jews?” that was al-Faraday, who stuck his nose again into the conversation.”

“I don’t know, but you have asked who we are here on Ivdel. And I have answered. Our parents taught us to. Simply the first spaceship was lost at landing, and all books were burn. But we remember that we were told to be either Russians or Jews, and since those times we try to be those.”

“That is you yourselves have prescribed yourselves to be those… Jews and Russians?” specified Serov.

“Yes, of course!” joyfully nodded Serov.

“Stop!” Serov’s brain was blurred by vapors of alcohol, but he tried to understand the slipping logic. “If you said “peoples”, then it means “nations”, isn’t it? And I haven’t ever heard about such nations! There are Gringos, Churkas, Negrioids, Turkorks or any Chinaers, but who ever have heard about that Jews and Russians?         

“And who are you yourself by nationality?” asked with tied tongue fellah Dodic, sitting just opposite to Serov.

“I am, assume, Turkork,” answered Serov excessively quietly, trying not to lose the thread of the discussion, “but it doesn’t matter! Generally, I do not like when showdowns on nationalities are begun. All peoples are equal!”

“This is a certain kind of muchrism,” grumbled al-Faraday. “About the equality and so on!”     

“Don’t say that!” said fat Dodic with threat, and Serov thought with a hope, that it would be nice if fellah come to fight with his competitor.

But Dodic simply waved his fist in the air and kept silence for the time being. Instead of him answered Ivdel, lavishly added to glasses.

“That isn’t muchrism, because muchrises believe in Muha and Chrisya, and we – in snowbabes! Moreover, nobody saw real Muha and Chrisya, but snowbabes – here they are!”

“And how is it with Jews and Russians?” now already al-Faraday pestered to this subject. “You call yourselves like this, but nobody has seen them!”  

‘Why nobody has?” Ivdel was surprised. “Here I am, Russian, for instance, and Dodic is Jew!”

“So, these are nationalities?”

“I tell you – no! It is chosenness by God on the faith to snowbabes. There is certain legend, that just because of it Jews and Russians long-long ago were stopped to be considered as nations. Well, mean, there is such a fate, and not the nationality. You see, the Creator said: “Jew is a vocation, Russian is a fate. So we here all have a fatacation…”

“What does it mean?” hopelessly asked Serov.

Ivdel a second or two was staring at Aliand then said:

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.”

“But, after all, who are you by nationality?” asked drunken al-Faraday, grinning.

“We are ivdels by nationality!” answered Dodic with authority and, after a short pause, added: “Let’s drink better. To all good things!”

They drank.

Serov suddenly felt funny.

“But how you her – with wrench!” giggled he. “Wife can’t be beaten, and snowbabe can be. It’s genius!.. And what you’ve been telling about the marriage? I’m ready! But, please, only tell me, with whom you’ll be signing the contract: with him,” – Ali nodded to al-Faraday, “or with me? If with me, then I’m ready to take a wife here immediately!”

“Where is my map-case?!” suddenly shouted al-Faraday, and Serov realized that he also haven’t his one with him.

 He began to look around in worry, but Ivdel and Dodic assured them that nothing could be lost here. This is only a snowbabe, which can melt to pure water, but even in that case there would be a carrot remain, floating in the bucket.

And so they continued to have a good time again.

Both Ivdels in the noisy company of fellahs and lumber-merchants, tasty smelling of tar, sawdust and curcamels’ muck, pulled then to wives. Serov and his competitor, slipping on steps of porches and stumbled in some entrances, bummed around from house to house, belting songs. In the end he found himself again with al-Faraday in some room, where they’d been drinking in the company of several wives already. Some of them were as if even pretty nice.

Then Serov didn’t remember anything again…

In the morning he found himself lying on the large bed in the room with low ceiling. The bed had lattice metal backs, and together with Serov on it slept not a wife, but absolutely naked al-Faraday.

Serov noticed that he himself is also naked. He was ashamed, so he quietly got down from the bed, and on the chair beside the bed found his clothes, neatly hanged. Near stood the second chair, where the competitor’s clothes were hanging. Both map-cases lied there.

Serov’s throat was dry, he wanted to drink terribly. His head was almost bursting, and from this sound al-Faraday must have been awaken, but the gringo was sleeping tight, spread out his fatty haunches.

Ali looked thievishly back to the competitor, thinking whether to examine his map-case, but the thirst was much stronger, and he gave up thinking about that and then forgot it at all. 

Cautiously having moved aside the curtain, serving here as a door, Serov looked out to the next room ­ – spacious chamber, in windows of which not bright light of Ivdel’s day was falling. There stood simple but durable furniture and there was silence.

Ali put on his boxers just in case and went to the chamber, already looking around much more carefully. Along the walls there stood cupboards, covered by embroidered napkins, at windows hang also embroidered curtains and at windowsills were piling up flowerpots.

In spite the headache, Serov loved this place, but the main thing was that at the table there stood a big jug and pair of glasses. Ali dragged his feet to the table and poured some turbid yellow-orange liquid in the glass. The liquid tasted as a carrot juice, and Serov suddenly thought whether these carrots can origin from the cemetery of snowbabes. But the thirst was so strong that he greedily emptied the second glass also.

He felt slightly better, but the head was still aching.

In the bedroom on the squeaking bed al-Faraday moved and muttered something. Serov heard a slapping of bare feet on the floor and gringo entered the chamber. He even didn’t put boxers on just in case, and Ali thought in passing that his competitor’s “just in case” was of quite good size.

“It’s unfair!” hoarsely mumbled gringo. “He’s sitting here alone and drink water!”

“Wake up and drink,” tiredly answered Serov. “And is it fair – trying to get to the planet first?”

He pulled a face and put the cool glass to his forehead, gently pulsing with ache.

“Oh, that’s it!” waved off al-Faraday, pouring from the jug into the free glass and pressing his mouth to it with greedy sips. “Oh, such a relief, thank the Creator!”

“On our planet it is necessary to say “Thank the snowbabes!” said Ivdel, entering the room – SFs hadn’t even heard the sound of opening door.

“Did you sleep well?” inquired Ivdel friendly.

Both forwarders nodded without spirit and with the expression that Ivdel shouldn’t have better asked about it.

Ivdel sat at the table and took a bottle out somewhere from immense pockets of his parka, having stamped it on the table top.

“So, which means that we’ll receive treatment for this,” noticed he.

“Oh, no!” protested both SFs. “We have to run tender! We have to work today!”

“Ha, big deal – you have to work! You’ll have enough time in your life to work!”

 In one of the cupboards Ivdel found clean glasses and simple snack in kind of salted vegetables, already vaguely familiar by yesterday party.

Serov signed – evidently, they had nowhere to go. He could hardly keep himself from asking where are those wives that were tonight with them, but he ashamed to do it.

As if guessed Ali’s thought, Ivdel informed that they – both Serov and gringo – had disgraced themselves in front of the wives.

“One shouldn’t load up to such a condition when he could not do the male duty!” he was telling them reproachfully, pouring into glasses.

Serov and al-Faraday exchanged with diffident glances. Gringo slightly shrugged his shoulders, Ali took his eyes off.

“But we can have fun one more day, can’t we?” asked he to hush up the slippery subject and looked sideways to the competitor again.

“We can even have fun for two days,” nodded al-Faraday, “but after that it will be necessary to run the tender for sure. I don’t know how it is with you, but I have only three days for this business mission. Otherwise they will dismiss me for f**k!”

Serov also had only three days.

“We’ll do it in time, they won’t dismiss us,” thought he. “But how improperly was it with male duty…”

“And that’s wonderful!” assumed Ivdel. “It is obligatory for you to rehabilitate yourselves in eyes of wives. That’s why today we won’t drink too much; I’ll keep my eye on you…”

The roundabout went on again. Persons was flashing by, vodochka was flowing like a river, the tight cold air hit hot faces after steam bath, when they’d been rushing in sledges yoked with curcamels. Then drank again. Hysterically-invitingly laughed wives, some of them more than even nice.

At the second day they really drank less, and in the evening made a creditable showing. But the contacts with wives had resulted that after these night successes they drank even more, again rode curcamels, and after this, having had got angry for something, drove along the road to shatter snowbabes, for not to vent the anger on real wives.

After that they drank again and laid wreaths from fur-tree branches at the cemetery of snowbabes. Wreaths slowly drifted among carrots rocking on the water.

Serov wanted to ask Ivdel, why the cemetery lake didn’t freeze, and again forgot to do that… 

* * *

When almost at the same time Serov’s and al-Faraday’s galaphones signals started to ring, they firstly had not understood where they both were.

Serov scrambled down the bed, on which now were lying even three wives, but not naked gringo, and was trying to recollect his senses for rather long time. He found out his galaphone and read HGS – hyper galactic message:

>

Several seconds Serov was sitting and looking at letters, vanishing in the air, then stood up, came up to the table and poured a glass of vodka with carrot juice.

“Hubby,” sleepy called one of the wives from the bed and giggled, “let’s have more fun, it’s too early yet, isn’t it?”

“Shut up, b***h, please,” said Serov without any spirit and drank the glass by several big sips. After that he put on his clothes, restraining the desperation and went out to the common chamber of the house, which they hired along with the competitor.

At that moment appeared gringo, buttoning himself up.

“Well, so what, little stinker?” grumbled Serov, squeezing the handle of the gun in the pocket, “You think if you have come half an hour earlier, then you already won? But tell me, how you, son-of-a-b***h, unloaded my containers, eh?”

“Ah, you are also, aren’t you?!..” al-Faraday stared at him with swollen eyelids. 

“I won’t left it all with you so…” began Serov, but al-Faraday suddenly dropped to the chair and grabbed his head with his hands.

“Idiots!” started to grieve gringo, rocking to and fro. “They have snookered us as absolute dolts! Just went for a ride on us as on… those curcamels! Gee!..”

“I haven’t got…” Serov released the gun handle, took a hand out of the pocket and scratched his head. “So, your cargo also has been stolen?!”

“Look, Turkorkish softhead…” gringo held out his galaphone to Serov, switching the reading mode for incoming HGS. 

For a second they had been watching each other, then, simultaneously rushed to the door.

There was still dark and absolutely empty of people in the street. Heavily breathing with hangover, they ran up to the propeller sleigh parking and tumble into the cabin of the nearest machine.

Constantly risking to dash off the ski track, forwarders reached speedily the landing platforms. There was nothing there. Landing chambers disappeared, but instead, snow that was virgin at the day of arrival, now had been dug up with curcamels’ hoofs, fellahs’ boots and somewhere heaped up with excrements of animals.

“That’s it!” shrieked Serov. “We were tricked one by one! And you thought if you come a half hour earlier, you have won!..”

Al-Faraday just waved a hand and, having sat at the side of the sleigh, lighted up a hand kalian.

The new day was breaking, but the sun beams almost couldn’t struggle through thick whitish cover, hanging over this lost-by-God world. 

Ali looked to the sky covered by clouds. Now he knew for sure that there was no lighter at the orbit, and he even had no chance to clear off from here.

“How much they managed to unload, what you think?” asked he. “Can it really be all?”

Al-Faraday hopelessly waved his hand, inhaling deeply:

“Does it really matter? They had managed to take enough – both from yours and mine. We both are soiled, both!”

“Quite so,” agreed Serov.

He winced and having searched in the sleigh, found already opened bottle and two strangely familiar mugs.

“Mind?” asked he.

Gringo waved a hand not for the first time. The gesture was obscure, but Ali had pored in the mug, anyway.

They drank. Serov wanted to snack by a piece of snow, but there were too much curcamels’ excrements around, and it was too disgust for him to do that. Gringo hadn’t even thought about snacking with anything.

“I have asked about unloaded cargo,” said Serov, “because we look like accomplices in this situation. We have to talk it over with Ivdel – let he apportion a part for us, in that case. We need to settle down now here – who knows when we guessed out how to get out from this planet, so we need money… But, in fact, it’s not so bad here, right?”

Al-Faraday for a change silently shrugged.

Serov rubbed his forehead with the palm of the hand and poured again.

“As I see, we’ll possibly have to go to work in babers’ brigade.

“Where?” surprised gringo listlessly.

“So they call the workers who restore snowbabes. Initiating babes, generally speaking.”

“No…” objected al-Faraday, “I’d better go to work as lumberjack. It’s better to initiate real ones, well, those, which are wives…”

“What prevents you from that?! Though, it’s up to you,” noticed Ali philosophically.

They had kept silence for some time, staring empty platforms and soiled snow around them.

“Listen,” suddenly inquired al-Faraday, “but if we have to stay here, then whom you will be – Russian or Jew?”

“What?!” Serov hadn’t got the hang of the question immediately.

“Well, I remembered that they mentioned that here all are whether Russians or Jews.”

“And you – what you choose?”

“No, I have asked first!” grinned al-Faraday.

“But you have come here first – so choose first! Though as to me, I do not care a fig, who to be. If it would be necessary – we’ll lot it.”

They almost synchronously sighed.

“And I’ve got not bad wife…” dreamily said al-Faraday.

“Which one?” specified Serov.

“Even can’t remember now,” admitted gringo. “But there is something in all this, isn’t it?..”

At that moment the distant sound of propeller sleigh came from afar.

Ali and al-Faraday stood up and silently watched the approaching machine. When the sleigh stopped, two brothers Ivdels got out of it.

Former competitors exchanged glances.

“That’s the way,” said Ali in low voice, “both have visited.”

“You think that’s they who devised all?”

“Who doubts!” hissed Serov. “One have been meeting you, the second – me. And then they were with us all the time. That’s they’ve who read all the codes for unloading, and so on. It can’t be left so…”

 And he warily pulled the wrench from the sleigh, secretly giving it to gringo.

“And you?” whispered al-Faraday.

“And I have a gun,” reassured Serov.

Aborigines joyfully waved their hands.

Serov and al-Faraday exchanged glances again, waved instead and, hiding the arms behind the backs, went towards Ivdels.

* * *

In one hour new snowbabes stood on each platform. Clean snow had to be taken from aside and then big snowballs were rolled to the place.

“We shall name them Ivdel the One and Ivdel the Two,” said gringo puffing. “First babes here, which will have their own names!.. Though, wait: they ain’t no babes at all, as it turns out. It turns out they are the first snowguys of Ivdel, isn’t that super!”

“Exactly!” agreed Ali, trying to clean hands with snow. “But in any case, we have to bring here two carrots, buckets and so on, or the composition isn’t finished yet, not to local standards. Oh, and if they are guys, we’ll have to fix two carrots on each – at the top and at the bottom.”

“We shall!” promised his former competitor. “But it seems to me, I have understood who you and me would become here…”

Serov, while poring in the mugs, inquiringly looked sideways at al-Faraday.

“It’s not so bad here, isn’t it?” said gringo. “Wives and all that things, yeah?..”

Ali shrugged:

“Well, of no doubt. Not bad, even good somewhere…”

“That’s it!” joyfully continued al-Faraday. “We’ll get accustomed here, and I have guessed who we’ll become…”

Serov continued to watch inquiringly at his new partner or, more correctly, partner in crime.

“We’ll both become Ivdels!” reported al-Faraday, “And no one dirty scum could say that it’s not so! And one day somebody else will come to this planet on a cargo-ship – and we must be the first who meet him here, you see?”

The end