“Oh, hell,” said the voice. “Take this telephonogram.”
“Let’s have it.”
“Write it down.”
“One minute,” I said. “I’ll get pencil and paper.”
I brought over a notebook and a pencil.
“I am listening.”
“Telephonogram number two hundred and six,” said the female voice, “to Citizeness Gorynitch, Naina Kievna.
“Not so fast…. Kievna…. Next?”
“You are hereby requested… to appear today the twenty-eighth of July… of this year… at midnight… at the annual all-union fly-in… Have you got that down?”
“I have.”
“The first meeting will take place… on Bald Mountain. Formal dress. Employment of mechanized transport at your own expense. Signed… Department Manager…Eich… Em… Viy…”*
“Who?”
“Viy! Eich Em Viy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Viy! Khron Monadovitch. Don’t you know the department manager?”
“I
