Strangers in Moscow
Part 5 (END)
By Oculus
Featuring art by Booperino
~
“Daddeh, when wiww we be goin’ homesies?”
An innocent Martin looked up at Mikhail. Though he had been enjoying the trip that he had with Mikhail, the Dendy was starting to miss home. Stroking his head, Mikhail spoke in a soft but reassuring voice.
“Don’t worry. We will be going home soon.”
~
Click to read The Trans-Siberian Railway Trip
For the past week, Mikhail had been on the Trans-Siberian Railway. After years of making additional money as an internet reviewer, he had earned enough money not only to support his family, but also save up for a big trip.
Mikhail always wanted to take the return trip from Moscow to Vladivostok. He would be taking first class, and thus had an entire cabin to himself and Martin. The cabin came with two beds, which seemed ideal as there would be a bed for himself and another for Martin. The cabin also came with a television, which was mounted above the entrance to the cabin, as well as a small shower and toilet. Along with a dispenser for hot water in the wagon, Mikhail was prepared for a long trip throughout the breadth of the motherland.
But why such a long trip? Why go from one end of the country to the other? Mikhail was going to use that time to try and clear a game that had been on his bucket list for ages now: The Wegend of Fwuffy. It was a very long role-playing game, but was also considered to be one the classics of the Super McBrega Entertainment System.
Mikhail was going to do it the old-fashioned way – as a “let’s play”. He had been tempted to stream it, but the constant nagging from his mother, as well as the continuous talk about the special military operation and the propaganda just made it difficult for him to concentrate on the game. Also, it was going to be a sort of challenge – could he finish the game during a two-week train ride?
~
Mikhail looked around at the station of Vladivostok. He was only going to be here for a few hours. He didn’t plan to stay here for long.
“You don’t have any doubts about killing a man?”
The man who was asking this was wearing a mask. Covid remained to be a fear even in 2022, and a mask provided both a barrier to this plague as well as a very convenient cover. This man was wearing a pair of shades and beanie to further conceal his identity. However, Mikhail recognized him as a fellow youtuber, someone who went around interviewing common Russians about their thoughts on the current conflict.
“I mean. Its expected. But it’s a military operation, right? And it’s what the country wants me to do. If I get called up, and it comes to that, I’ll do it.”
The man who said this was about Homer’s age, being at least ten years younger than Mikhail. Maybe he was a university student.
“What about you, sir? Where are you from?”
Mikhail was a little stumped. Should he mention he was from Chelyabinsk? Or from Moscow?
“Saint Petersburg.”
That came out of Mikhail rather unexpectedly. But it felt like the best answer to give.
“Do you think you’ll get called up?”
Mikhail avoided most contact, as he didn’t want to let people know that he was going on this long train journey. He too was wearing a pair of shades and a mask. He was carrying Martin, but Martin was not the only purple fluffy of his breed. At that moment, he was prepared to just walk away from the interviewer, like some others at the station did. But he also felt that it would be rude if he didn’t at least say something. Adopting a bit of a lower voice, he opted for a simple response.
“I feel like it might happen. We’re not making much ground in the territories. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s a mobilization.”
“Can you see yourself killing a man?”
Mikhail gulped down. The image of his dead father was seared into his mind. A man who had died, because of his own actions.
Mikhail had served in the military, as all fit and able Russian men had to. Due to his psychiatric history, he was posted to a clerical duty. He only received the most basic of training regarding the assembly, cleaning and basic use of a rifle. Due to his status, he was exempted from firing live rounds. But the fact remained that he had served in the military. And, he had killed a man.
Could he see himself doing the same, but with a gun?
“Nuu! Gibbing huwties and foweva sweepies nu am nice!”
Martin’s outburst was sudden, but definite. Feeling a little inspired, Mikhail continued from his little Dendy’s statement.
“The little guy here is right. It’s why I’m not keen on it. Any one of the men I might face could be someone’s father, or someone’s son. Or even their mother or daughter. I couldn’t live with myself if I did something like that.”
“I see. Thank you for your time.”
~
In the brief time that Mikhail was at Vladivostok he had only enough time to eat one meal. And that meal was at the “Пушисто, и точка” which would roughly translate to “Fluffy, period”. Following the departure of McBrega’s from Russia, the fast-food chain was bought out a local entrepreneur.
The meal was alright, for what it was. Because of the conflict, there was a shortage of potatoes, so there were no French fries. As Coca-cola had pulled out of the country, the only cola that was available was the local variety, with the foreign brand cola being sold in bottles, indicating the limited stock.
But they key difference was in the entertainment. Or rather, the difficulty of enjoying it. Mikhail remembered that, at his visit to the McBrega’s in Pushkin, all the entertainer fluffies had left the country a few weeks earlier.
“Cmon, Smile! You’re supposed to smile!”
The yellow service Dendy looked at Mikhail with a nervous smile. Trying her best, she proceeds to push the tray towards him.
“Hewe nice mistah. Hab guud nummies!”
She was clearly trying their best. Perhaps she was new to the job. Perhaps she was fresh from the mill. Or from the shelter. Either way, she didn’t seem like she was cut out for this kind of job.
Mikhail returned to his table with his tray, where Martin waited for him patiently. As he sat down, he noticed the bits of white fluff that were coming out of the torn leather of his seat. The floors were sticky, as if a sweet drink had been poured on them earlier, and had been left to dry, without someone cleaning it.
An orange fluffy walked up to Mikahil. He looked a lot like Marty McBrega, but something about him seemed off. For instance, there were eyebags under his eyes, indicating a trait of the Shaffer breed.
“Hewwo mistah!”
“Hey there little guy. Can you sing a song from me?”
“Fwuff dunno how to hab singiess, nice mistah.”
Mikhail sighed. He ran his hands across his mane. The orange fluffly chortled, tickled by this friendly gesture. With the entertainer fluffy distracted, Mikhail glanced at the back of his body. There was a bioport, but it was not the contemporary biological based port. Instead, it was the cold mechanical port, like the ones he saw in the 90s. A relic of the past, brought back due to a shortage.
He asked, “Would you like to eat with us!”
“Yaysies!!”
All in all, it was alright dining experience. But this fluffy was definitely inexperienced. He spent more time eating Mikhail and Martin’s food as opposed to actually entertaining the duo
~
While on his way back to his cabin, Mikhail noticed a map of the trains with Vladivostok. More importantly, he noticed a little dot signifying the Kasan station. This station was on the Baranovsky-Khasan railway line, and was the last Russian station before the line goes into North Korea.
Mikhail pondered about that. He had always thought of just leaving it all behind. Just take Mikhail with him, and cross the border. But of course, North Korea wasn’t the place he wanted to go to. If he really wanted to get away from it all, he would have gone straight for Georgia. Or Finland. But no, he took this particular trip, because he wanted a break for himself.
But he has a family to get back to. His mother was still in Moscow. And besides, Barbara was still in Moscow. Mikhail still wanted to do that article with her.
~
The return trip was much the same as the trip to Vladivostok. For much of the trip, when Mikhail wasn’t gaming, he would be watching the news. Meanwhile, Martin would spend of his time looking out at the trees. To the young Dendy, who been so acclimated to life in Moscow, he had never seen the tundra, or the taiga.
Occasionally, he would yell out,
“Daddeh, wook!”
Mikhail would then come to the window. And Martin would point out, “Wook, a growly munstah!” when he saw a bear. Or “Wook, biggest twees!” whenever he saw the forest.
Mikhail would smile, and then get back to his screen.
~
12 days had passed. Mikhail and Martin were at the final level. The final stage, after such an epic story.
“You ready?”
“Fwuffy am, daddeh!”
The next three hours on the train were some of the most intense that Mikhail and Martin ever had. On Martin’s side, he had to navigate the map on balloon, serving as the “eyes” for the character Mikhail was controlling. Martin also had to prevent the enemy fighter jets from assailing Mikhail, as Mikhail’s character continued to attack the boss. It was a complicated fight within the four walls of the cabin, as Mikhail was fighting an enemy from the past, who was threatening the future.
But despite the odds, and through determination, the duo finally beat the game.
“It’s over.”
And the final scene of the game played in 16-bit glory. A young boy and his fluffy on the bed, sleeping. A well-earned rest, after an epic journey through time and space.
Mikhail looked at his laptop. Utilizing the recorded video, as well as the snapshots of the various towns he had visited, he had so many hours of footage. Footage he was going to upload on his channel of his lets plays. But also, a shorter version, which he was going to put up on his main channel, summarizing his trip, and this challenge he took for himself.
He knew that he didn’t tell his mother, or Barbara, about this journey. Nor did he tell his therapist. But the journey had left him calmer, and more fulfilled. Now that he was back in Moscow, he would be ready to take on the stress he had left behind, and perhaps better ease himself into the new world that was coming.
~
Mikhail did not know how long he had been on the Metro. Having finished his journey on the Trans -Siberian Railway, he was now making the final journey home. His legs and mind lethargic after such a long journey, the people that travelled on the Metro now seemed like mere shapes to him.
Upon arriving at his destination, Mikhail was surprised to see that a fog had once again arrived at the streets of Moscow. It was very reminiscent of the fog he experienced all those months ago, on the night when he first met Barbara. The fog had dimmed the night lights of the city, making it hard to navigate.
“It am dawkies, daddeh. Fwuffy nu wike the dark.”
“It’s alright Martin. We’ll be out of the dark soon.”
But as he said this, he felt an unexpected lightness. Mikhail looked down, and was greeted to the sight of empty arms.
“Martin! MARTIN!!!”
Mikhail yelled out, running through the fog. To the left and right of him, there was nothing but the opaque haze, illuminated by indeterminate street lights. Mikhail kept running towards the nearest street light. Lost fluffies usually gravitated to the nearest light source, and chances are at least one stray would be there.
And true enough. There was a stray. But it wasn’t the purple colour of Martin. It was orange. It was a Marty McBrega fluffy. One much like the one he always wanted. This particular Marty looked at Mikhail in interest and a big smile.
Hoping to get his attention, Mikhail called out to him.
“Hey there, lil’ guy!”
But the Marty McBrega fluffy ran off into the fog. Giving chase, Mikhail yelled out, “Hey Wait come back!”
Mikhail chased after fluffy. He wondered to himself, why he was doing this? The answer seemed obvious – Martin was just with him. As fluffies were social creatures, it was likely that this stray may have seen Martin. Mikhail hoped that it would be the case.
After a while, Mikhail found himself on the entrance to a park. He realized it was Gorky Park, the park he himself always frequented. At least he knew that he was near his own home.
“Daddeh?”
Mikahil turned around. Martin was right there.
An overjoyed Mikhail bent down. Reunited with his fluffy, he spoke with vigorous relief, “I was so worried! Why did you run off?”
But Martin shook his head. “Mmm…… Daddeh wan! Fwuffy twy to keep up wif Daddeh!”
Mikhail was a little puzzled. He was quite sure that Martin had ran off. But he put tjay aside, assumed that his mind had played tricks on him.
“Where have you been, young man?”
Shocked to sense the presence of another human being this late in the night, Mikhail turned around. He sees a familiar old man in a business suit. One that he met just a few weeks ago, in bright daylight.
“Mr Devuskhin, what are you doing so late out at night?”
“I’d ask you the same question! You’ve been missing for over two weeks! Your mother has been worried sick about you!! Even my own daughter has been trying to find you!”
“I know,” moaned Mikhail, “I know caused my family a lot of trouble.”
“Well, young man, do you want to talk about it?”
Mikhail looked at the senior Devushkin. He remembered the therapy sessions he had with Dr Pavlova. He remembered feeling intimidated by Dr Pavlova, another reason why he departed without letting anyone know.
“Come on. Sit down beside me,” offered Fyodor, slapping the empty seat beside him.
But he felt no such intimidation here. Mikhail decided to sit down.
“So, where did you go?”
“I went on a trip, Mr Devushkin. I didn’t tell my anybody, because, I just wanted to get away from it all. You know, the special military operation, the Z signs. Whenever I’m at home, my mother would keep watching the television, and seeing the talk show hosts support the conflict. Even my therapist felt suspicious to me.
I just wanted to get away from it all.”
“And so you did the irresponsible thing, and just disappeared without telling anybody?”
“Yes.”
“I understand.”
Mikhail didn’t anticipate that answer. Before he could ask, Fyodor started talking again.
“You know back in my time, and even before then, a lot of men about your age would try to get out of the motherland. Defect, basically. And I guess you just wanted to get away from all of this,” and as he asked this, his hands waved across a landscape of Z signs and nationalist slogans, summing it up with, “all of this, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.
I just wanted to be alone with Martin here.”
“He’s really cute, Mikhail. He reminds me a lot of a fluffy I myself had when I was your age. A dendy, just like that.”
“You had a dendy too?”
“Indeed. His name was Laika.
Laika (Artist: Booperino)
I was very fond of Laika. He was a mixed breed, a mix of a Shaffer and a Boop type fluffy. He had a lot in common with Shaffer breeds, but he wasn’t a purebred Shaffer. My family got him from the state pound. He had all the hallmarks of the Shaffer breed, like the baggy eyes, and like any Dendy he had a a fluffless muzzle, but he had a temperament that was very unlike most Shaffers. He was always joyful, and always happy. Also, unlike the average Shaffer, Laika could think for himself.”
“But why Laika? Was he much of a barker?”
“Oh not at all. I named him after THE Laika.”
“THE Laika?” Mikhail asked. It took him about five seconds before he realized who Fyodor was referring to.
“Indeed, young man. THAT Laika. That Laika was so famous, everyone started talking about her. She was like Yuri Gagarin. Or Valentina Tereshkova. But for a fluffy.
As a young lad, I wanted a fluffy like that. And I had a lot of fun, playing spaceships with my Laika. I would place him within a little spaceship, and pretend that he would be travelling around in space, in our cardboard ship.
He always dreamt of going to space. Even.” Fyodor stopped for a moment. About five seconds later, he finished his sentence.
“Even on his last day. Though he was frail and with grey fluffy, his last thoughts were about floating in space.”
Mikhail nodded. He could sense that Fyodor had missed a friend from his childhood.
“Do you like ice-cream, Mikhail?”
The sudden change in tone caught Mikhail off-guard.
“Sometimes.”
“One of the places where I’ve been to is Cuba. You ever been to Cuba?”
“No. I’m never been to the Americas. But I always wanted to go that part of the world. Especially North America.”
“Well, in Cuba, there is this ice cream parlour. And it’s like, a cathedral. A cathedral to ice cream. The ice cream there is affordable, and yet, is some of the best ice cream one can have in the world.
You see, the Cuban leader Fidel Castro had a love for ice-cream. But he also wanted to make a point. He had seen all those ice cream brands run by the corporations that had so many flavours. So he wanted to show that Cuba too, could have its own company that could compete with the capitalists. One that could produce ice cream just as good, with even more flavours.”
“Fwuffy wan to hab dem icey nummies!”
“I like that enthusiasm!”
A little perplexed, Mikhail asks, “Why did you mention all that?”
“I mentioned it because the Dendies, our fluffies, were very much the same way. Surely you remember the fancy dandy horse?”
“I know about those. The precursor to fluffies that can’t really talk.”
“They couldn’t. They are very much like parrots. They can imitate speech, and was as smart as a crow. But they are, indeed, not quite the fluffies we know.
But at some point, the Politburo became aware of the success of the fluffy pony in the US. And with it, McBrega. It was not just the food that McBrega was selling, but also the fluffies they were selling. The same kind of animal our fancy dandy horses were. But theirs could “talk”. Of course, it’s not a perfect language – no genetically engineered animal can speak perfectly – but it was close enough. Apparently, fluffspeak was a language that existed in the old cartoons of the Americans, and they managed to teach it to their fluffies.
So the Party wanted to do the same thing, but to our fancy dandy horses. Our Dandies.”
“Interesting. Is that why our fluffies, our Dendies, look so different from the American ones?”
“Indeed. When the Party took over the breeding programme from the Belyayevs, they were working with an older template of the fancy dandy horse. But the goal was the same - to make a product, to make a pet, that could match one that the West had.”
Fyodor’s tone spoke of a kind of zeal, a kind of nationalistic pride that Mikhail had been taught to grow up with. But something about it rubbed Mikhail the wrong way.
“But then, why did you get a Marty McBrega fluffy for Barbara? Why did you get her a biotoy?”
Fyodor smiled, as he made a gentle assertion, “They’re not toys.”
“I know that. McBrega campaigned to have them sold as toys, but all countries recognize them as animals.”
“And that’s because they are.
It was a new world. The Cold War was over. This long geopolitical struggle we had with the West, it finally came to an end. This cloak and dagger bullshit, it was over. Western companies were coming to our shores, and with them, their toys. Their ideas.
I remember the first time I saw the fluffies that the Americans were bringing in through McBrega. They were manufactured in a lab, had their brains programmed through some means, and were considered artificial, more artificial than “natural” fluffies. But they were still fluffy ponies. They were still animals. They needed food, they needed sleep. They need love, care, attention, interaction, anything a pet, an animal, would need.
My little girl, my little Barbie wanting her own pet, it reminded me when I wanted Laika when I was her age. Yes, this was an artificial pet, from a corporation of a free market as opposed to a mill run by the State. But it was a pet, all the same.”
“You know, it’s a funny story,” grinned Fyodor, as he began to relate another memory, “But one day, I took Barbie to a restaurant in Moscow. It was one that was themed after nostalgia for the old days. They sold military uniforms for fluffies, and one could have a fluffy dressed up in that kind of garb. Major didn’t enjoy being in it, but Barb and I insisted. And he ended up looking like a general, like Zhukov.
I can’t remember who called him Major. It was either Barb or I.”
“So that’s how Old Major got his name?”
“Indeed! Up to that point, Barbie kept calling him ‘Marty’. But it got confusing when she was meeting other girls, and they too had Marties. After all, these Marty fluffies were all clones. But Barb knew that her own fluffy, with his mannerisms, was her own. And from then on, she just started calling him ‘Major’.”
“Daddeh! A nice mistah am comin’ tu see ‘ou!”
Martin’s interruption surprised Mikhail. And true enough, the young man could see another human shaped figure approached the two men and a fluffy.
“Ah, looks a friend of mine has arrived. I did arrange for him to meet me here.”
A friend? At this late at night? Who was Fyodor talking about?
Slowly, a recognizable human face emerged out of the fog. With silver-grey hair and blue eyes, Mikhail was astounded by the face he was witnessing.
It was Mr Leonov! THE Sergei Ivanovich Leonov! Mikhail gasped in shocked as he saw the veteran cosmonaut appear.
“Hello, Mikhail!”
That was another shock for Mikhail.
“You remember my name?”
“Of course I do. I gave you the Dendy, remember?”
“Yes, I do-“
Have you taken good care of him?”
“Well I…,” Mikhail stammered.
“Of course you did,” smiled Sergei, looking at Martin. “He’s right there with you!”
Mikhail looked down in shame. He didn’t feel like telling Sergei the truth about the first Martin’s fate.
“And,” continued Mr Leonov, holding up his index finger, “I saw that little video you did about me.”
That revelation intrigued Mikhail. Recovering from his guilt, his face perked up.
“Did you? What did you think of it?”
“I was honoured. I even appreciated how you covered my retirement.”
Scratching his head, Mikhail could only coyly say, “You were my inspiration, Mr Leonov sir.”
“Sergei, sergei, sergei. Its been a while since I last met you.”
“Ah Fyodor, it’s good to see you again.”
This meeting in the middle of the night did seem unusual.
“Why are you two meeting so late at night?”
“Fwens awways hab guud tawkies, daddeh! And, some times, fwens wan hab speshuw tawkies wif bestes’ fwens!”
Both older men laughed, as they heard Martin’s reasoning.
“See how your own fluffy can understand who two friends would want to privately meet!”
“Fluffies indeed have a childlike understanding to them. Didn’t the Good Book say that the Kingdom of Heaven belong to such as these?”
For a brief moment, Mikhail had a fascination that Mr Leonov was here. The Leonov he knew was a celebrity, remembered by many for his amazing life and achievements. But here he was, in the flesh. And talking to Mr Devushkin like as though they were the best of friends. While the two men had small talk, Mikhail felt like asking a boyish question.
“Mr Leonov?”
“Yes, my boy?”
“What was it like to land on the moon?”
Fyodor rolled his eyes, as Sergei gave out a hearty laugh. Fyodor knew that Sergei was going to relay the same story he told at so many parties.
“You know, it was a miracle that we even manage to land on the moon. Like, we had a bunch of American scientists tell us that our N1 launcher would never make it. Because we were using kerosine. Them? They were using liquid hydrogen!
But we persisted. We kept at it. And we pulled it off. It’s a bloody miracle now that I think about it, but, we did it. We got together, and landed a rocket on the Moon.”
“You must have been thrilled.”
“I was. Definitely. We did celebrate.
But after a while, I got a little afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“You see, the moon was cold and lonely. It was empty. Thousands of miles of barren rock, with no air, and no water. Because of the nature of the LK lander, only one man could go on the landing mission. I spent two lonely weeks out there on the Moon. As I did my work in my little craft, I feared for my life. I wasn’t sure if I was going to get back dead or alive.
At that moment, I felt very much like Laika.”
Sergei said that name with much sadness. Fyodor, in a bout of interest, asked the next question.
“You knew Laika? As in, THE Laika? The first fluffy in space?”
“Indeed I did.
Laika was quiet and charming. She was just a street fluffy, plucked from the streets. But she was not as talkative as the average Dendy. The scientists who monitored here noted that she had some elements of a street fancy dandy horse, which explained her meekness.”
Mikhail understood what Sergei meant. Another reason why Dendies, especially street Dendies, different from their American counterparts was because of their intermingling with the older parrot-like fancy dandy horses. As those were more primitive, their traits and mannerisms made Russian fluffies look very different from their more “altered” American counterparts.
“We picked a fluffy because it had a humanlike brain. But we also knew the risks. We were not sure if Laika was going to live. So I wanted to do something nice for her. She had so little time left to live.
I brought her home one day, to spend some time with me. She seemed like any other fluffy. Sociable and playful. Enjoyed that dish we call spaghetti. But she was also a little afraid. She seemed to understand the mission she was being sent on. Occasionally, she barked, perhaps because she learnt that as a means of defending herself from dogs. And that’s why I called her Laika.
When Laika came back from her mission, she seemed cold. Withdrawn. Even though she was alive, she had spent a week in space alone. She wasn’t the same fluffy that I knew before the journey. She was famous, she was even made a Hero of the Soviet Union.
But she died barely a month later.”
Both Fyodor and Mikhail stared at Sergei. They knew the popular story about Laika, but never knew much about her life beyond that.
“I’m sorry to hear.”
“Work with fluffies is difficult. Because they talk like little children, we treat them as such. The more time passes, the more I feel sorry about it.”
“Daddeh, Mawteen hab saddies. Why muss Waika hab foweva sweepies? Why muss Waika die?”
A silence grew between all four parties as Martin made that statement.
As the silence grew, Mikhail felt uneasy. The conversation just felt too surreal. Unreal, even. Two men he hardly knew, and yet, were very much related to his life, were with him. What set of cosmic circumstances led these two men to be here with him?
As Mikhail pondered on that, he could see another figure in the fog. But this was not a mere figure walking in the darkness. It was another figure. Someone coming towards them.
“It seems to be that our final guest has arrived.”
Mikhal was not sure if Fyodor or Sergei said that. At that moment he was afraid. Holding Martin in his arms, he was feeling an uneasiness in his stomach. Should he just make up an excuse, and head on out? Or should he just run, as the situation was genuinely frightening?
But Mikhail’s eyes widened, as he saw the figure’s face.
“D…dad?”
“Hello Mikey.”
Indeed, it was Onegin Ivanovich. His very father.
“It is me, Mikhail.”
“But…. That means…”
Mikhail turned to Sergei Leonv. A huge gash appeared across his body. In his mind, a headline from yesteryear rang out, reminding him of the brutal truth.
“LEGENDARY COSMONAUT SERGEI LEONOV DIES IN SKI ACCIDENT”
Mikhail then turned to Barbara’s father. His nice business suit slowly started to char and burn in smoke, and his face slowly revealing bits of a blackened skull.
Mikhail then turned back to his father. The foam was starting appear from his mouth.
“But… that means…”
Mikhail stared down. A deep red spot was starting to grow around his solar plexus. It was small at first, but it grew larger, as thick red sanguine starting to soak the shirt he was wearing.
~
Tatyana Ivanovich was staring over the body of Mikhail Ivanovich. In death, the eccentric’s face was tranquil, exhibiting a peace no living person would know.
Holding back her tears, she asked “How long was he like this?”
With bluntness, the coroner affirmed the fact.
”He was dead on arrival.”
~
Mikhail was taken aback. As the realization grew, a great sadness overcame Mikhail’s being. Both Sergei and Fyodor had to hold him, prevent from collapsing.
“Easy there, kid. I know it’s hard to accept.”
Overcome by emotion, and the abrupt failure of his life, Mikhail lounged forward, and buried himself into his father’s arms. He could feel the tears streaming down his face, an expression of great metaphysical sadness in this most implausible of situations. He could feel the elder Ivanovich consoling him.
“I was the same way, my dear Mikey.”
A moment of clarity had come over Mikhail.
“Now, I remember.”
~
Mikhail Ivanovich was walking towards Gorky Park.
He sees a hooligan, carrying a baseball bat, about to corner a fluffy.
Mikhail had seen this kind of situation play out before.
But today, he was tired of just ignoring it.
“Martin, run to the police.”
~
“You did the right thing.”
“But that would also mean……”
Mikhail stares at Martin, and realizes something. The bioport that was on the back of the Martin that had accompanied was not the modern biologically based bioport, but the semi-electronic bioport, the same that he saw on the Dendy in the restaurant in Vladivostok. It was also the same bioport that the first Martin had.
“Fwuffy am happies to see daddeh again.”
But Mikhail cried. He remembered what he did to the first Martin. And how the first Martin led to all this mess he was in.
“Pwez nu be saddies, daddeh. Fwuffy am happies to see daddeh again.”
”But… but I killed you.”
“It was an ess-i-den. Mikey nu mean it. It just wike, daddeh nu wan huwt Mikey.”
“He’s right, Mikhail. I may have shouted at you. I may have gotten angry with you. But I only wanted was best for you. I didn’t want you to hurt or belittle little Martin here.
And you learnt how to appreciate other people. Especially fluffies.”
Those words comforted Mikhail. But a realization was starting to dawn on him.
“I need to go back. Mom needs me. Martin needs me.”
But Onegin merely smiles. All around, Mikhail sees that what was once Gorky Park was now changing. In a manner that could only be described as dreamlike, the venue was changing, piece by piece.
“Tatyana, Martin and Barbara, they will all be fine.”
~
Barbara is at the shelter. She was having the worst night of her life.
A bomb had gone off in a penthouse located in the heart of Moscow. Her father, an ex-diplomat turned oligarch was now a victim. And she too was a potential target. To add to that, a friend that she had made over the past few months, the man whose life she was studying, and hoping to collaborate with on a project, was now dead.
Despite the gentle words of the police caretaker, Martin was in a deep sorrow for the majority of the night. He was relieved to see the nice lady friend, Barbara, return. But he only wished that Mikhailw as there to meet her as well
Looking up to her, Martin asked the biggest the question. The question related to death of her father. The death of Mikhail. The death of Alec, Ms Trevelyana’s nice son. The question related to the current situation, miles away
“Why, why must dewe be saddies? Why must dewe be huwties? Why can’t we aww be fwens?”
Barbara sighed.
“I wonder myself too, little Martin. There’s a lot of bad people out there in the world. A lot of monsters. Monsters who are mean and just aren’t happy until they see someone else be hurt or sad.
But there are also good people, Martin. Good people like your daddy, who tried to save that fluffy. Your daddy who looked after you, and you had so much fun time with.
He may be gone, but he wanted you to keep going. He wanted you to be safe.”
Martin II could only accept this fact. His owner Mikhail, was never coming back.
“Come on. We can’t stay here.”
~
Mikhail looks back at Fyodor Devushkin. The diplomat turned oligarch was now sitting with two fluffies beside him. On the left was Laika, his faithful Dendy. And on the right was Old Major, his daughter’s faithful fluffy, now restored to his youthful pride. Despite his synthetic origin as a custom-made created in a lab, he still had all the unique traits he had as a clone of Will Kroc’s fluffy named Martin. Perhaps even more so, as he no longer had the bioport on his back. Like Pinocchio, like the Velveteen rabbit, he was very much real.
He turned to Sergei. Behind Sergei was an entire posse of Dendies, the same posse he had seen in that shopping centre, all those years ago. But in his arms was Laika, the original Laika. The true Laika, the first fluffy in space.
He turns back to his father. Martin I was no longer at his side, but now in the hands of Onegin Ivanovich. Onegin smiles, knowing that the presentation was coming to an end.
“It’s time to go, Mikhail.”
But a lingering fear was still in the young Ivanovich.
“But dad. Barb. Mom. Will they be okay?”
The surroundings start to change as Mikhail asked this question.
~
Mikhail and Onegin find themselves at a gateway. Across the border lies the country of Georgia. Long lines had been forming on the road, as many people had been making their way out of the country, due to their disagreements with the decision of the President.
In one of these cars, Tatyana Ivanovich is in the driver’s seat. For the past few weeks, she had been sheltering the young Devushkina. Barbara was carrying a pet carrier with Martin II in it. The journey had been difficult, and sometimes, Barb and Mrs IVanovich feared that the agents of the President woukd track their movements. But thankfully, they seemed to be in the clear.
It was a final meeting. Barb wasn’t sure how she was going to start what could be her last conversation with the woman who she barely got to know before that year, but who had helped so much.
“I used to tell Mikhail that he was wasting his life. He used to spend so many hours playing games.
Now I…… I just want him to come back to me.”
Witnessing the brine trickling down from her eyes, Barb sought to console her.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Tatyana.”
“You know, my father was against it. My father would have rather that I met a fellow Ukrainian. He didn’t like my husband when I first met him.
Our marriage wasn’t perfect. We had our dark times. We had our difficulties.
But, I never forget the day we first met. The day when we had our first kiss. The day when we got ourselves a new home. The day when I first had Mikhail.
All those times when I was worried, he would come up to me and say: "Stay with me. Don’t you worry.” And it gave me hope. There was a lot of grief, and fear, and pain, but I’ve never regretted it, nor envied anyone.
Because that’s Life.
And if there were no sadness or darkness in our Life, it wouldn’t be better, it would be worse. Because then there’d be no happiness, either. And there’d be no Hope.”
Barbara pondered on the words of Mrs Ivanovich. Despite everything that happened to her, despite all her losses, she retained her bearing.
“You should come with me.”
“No, Barbara. My place is here.
But you, Barbara, you are young.”
Mrs Ivanovich then turns her attention to Martin II, who is in Barbara’s arms.
“Fwuffy wiww miss you, gwamma.”
“And I’ll miss you too, Martin.”
~
Slowly, Mikhail finds himself floating above. He sees Barbara and Martin II on their way, pass the border, and into safety. As the surroundings start to change, a relief final comes over him.
“So things will be fine.”
But Mikhail still feels uncertain.
“What’s wrong Mikey?”
“I didn’t do much in my Life. I had so many plans. I had so many hopes and dreams. And now its all over.”
“You think I didn’t feel the same way? My one hope in Life was to see you grow and develop. And that was the biggest fear I had when I left.
But you did your best.”
Mikhail could his father’s hand strongly grasp his shoulder. Looking deep into his eyes, Onegin spoke with conviction.
“Mikhail, you are my son. No matter what. I will always love you.”
A bittersweet smile appears on Mikhail’s face. All around him, the surroundings start to change. It started to resemble a different time.
“Lets go home, Mikhail.”
As Mikhail walked with Onegin, he could feel himself becoming more youthful. His memories travelled back to a younger time, when he was at home with his mother Tatyana, his father Onegin, and the little Dendy Martin. While he was on the floor, playing with his little fluffy in front of the television, his parents would watch over him, happy to see their little son having much fun. And at night, both parents would tuck their son into bed, letting him dream sweet dreams.
It was a feeling Mikhail had not felt in ages. But it was here, finally to stay.
Click to read the Epilogue
~
Epilogue
A few months later
Barbara was now working at the branch of her publication which was based in New York. She had been getting a lot of questions, mainly because of her father’s connection to the president, as well as his death. Her life had been hectic, due to the difficulty of the impromptu funeral that had to be held, as well as her own fears regarding the safety. To add to that, Martin had to be registered, and as he was a Russian speaking fluffy, he couldn’t fit in most of the daycares as American fluffies usually spoke the American English fluffspeak.
But things started to simmer down.
She got used to living in America again. Martin was able to learn English flufspeak, and managed to make friends well enough.
She has not heard from Tatyana Ivanovich, nor from Homer and Rita. As she scours the web, she tries to information regarding those three. Tatyana didn’t spend much time on the web, so that’s one bugbear. The recent calls for mobilization has resulted in much protest, and Barbara wondered if Homer would be affected by the call-up.
But there seemed to be some glimmers of hope. Ukraine was regaining some of its lost territory, and, recently, McBrega had reopened in the country after months of the conflict. At the moment, they only reopened three branches and it was limited to delivery. But crowds had formed, eager not only to receive the food they had missed out for months, but also to see a sight they had forgotten for so long.
“Hewwo fwens!!”
For the entertainer fluffies had returned, providing a unique entertainment that the city had missed out on the past few months.
“Dis am da nummies fwuffy had been wantin’ fow so wong!”
A blue fluffy, wearing a bulletproof vest, said this. Behind him was larger fluffy,w earing a kngith’s helmet, and a pink fluffy, wearing a similar vest. They were the members of the Anti-Bomb Squad, who were being rewarded after a particularly long day. Their handler, Alessia, was herself enjoying a sweet veggie burger. Speaking to the microphone, she best summed up what she was feeling.
“Happiness, pure happiness.”
Barbara smiled. It was not an easy feeling to have, especially in these difficult times.
As she kept looking through the recommendations on her youtube feed, she finds that there is a lot of videos mentioning Mikhail. A lot of tributes had been made about him as his death was a loss to many in the Dendy gaming community. Many people started making their own videos, imitating Mikhail’s own example. Barb doubts that she would get into that, but she had been working on an article summarizing Mikhail’s work and his impact on the fluffy gaming culture, especially outside of Russia.
There was a video that Mikhail did, ages ago. It had a quote that, she felt, was the best way to end his story.
“Why do I like playing games? Why am I so interested in games that require fluffies?
I don’t know. Maybe its because I grew up with fond memories of them, and I’d like to people to remember that nostalgia. Maybe its because, well, games are more fun with fluffies. Fluffies are cute!
But it makes me happy. Fluffies make me happy. Playing video games makes me happy. And put them together, it’s a double happiness! A big happiness!
And I would like to share that happiness with people.”
