Major Militsky had never visited the Buro, and was not permitted to do so, but three channels of communication existed with it. These were the internal postal system, a telephone, and a teleprinter. The printer was the most regular in use, and messages chattered to and fro on it several times a day. The post, in the form of a deed box that went up and down in a lift, was for papers requiring signature (the Administrator’s or, more rarely, the Director’s hieroglyph) and was also quite regular.
The telephone was not regular at all.
The telephone was a hotline, for emergency use only.
No emergencies had so far arisen in the major’s tours of duty and he had not had to use it. He greatly hoped he wouldn’t have to do so now, though an emergency showed signs of developing. To nip it in the bud, without any panic on the hotline, would need fast action from him on the teleprinter. And some of the clearest explanations in the world to the swine at the other end.
The swine at the other end was a colonel of security, the Administrator of the Buro, who had proved a great pain to the major. On more than one occasion he had reported adversely on the major’s competence. Aspects of the present situation could easily provoke him again; but there was no help for it.
The matter was so ridiculous he didn’t even know how to explain it. He jotted down a few notes for himself. But even with the notes it was difficult.
It concerned the naming of a baby. The baby, not yet born, was about to be born, prematurely. When born it would be the grandchild of Stepan Maximovich, the Director’s manservant. Tribal custom among the Evenks required the grandfather to choose a name for the baby.
The visiting schedule for Stepan Maximovich entitled him to one visit per rotation of Evenks. And he had already had it, two days ago. Because of the baby the Evenks were now demanding a further visit; in fact two. This was because he would need to consult his wife in between. It might even be necessary for him to have a third visit, in case he changed his mind. Grandfathers often changed their minds. If this one changed his it could easily take them into tomorrow. It couldn’t be after tomorrow, because the day after tomorrow Medical Officer Komarova …
The major tugged at his collar. Rough going.
… because the day after tomorrow Medical Officer Komarova, who had herself informed them of the imminent baby (brief details of visit), would be coming to the camp again. The Evenks were insistent that by then the baby’s name had to be known. Evenk belief was that a dead baby, even more than a live one, had to have a name in order that God …
Well, skip God. The colonel would have views on God. But how then to …
What they had to understand down there was that Evenks were free workers, not conscripts. Could withhold their labour. They were asking that matters be brought to personal attention of Director. Great importance of avoiding Situations. Camp commandant was holding a guard escort available. Speedy approval requested for immediate visit by Stepan Maximovich.
Well, it was untidy. But it was all there.
The major tapped out the message and waited, in some trepidation, for the reply.
In twenty minutes the teleprinter started chattering back.
He read it, amazed.
Best wishes to Evenks and best hopes for the safe arrival of their new born. Camp commandant to be congratulated on his tactful handling. Visit of Stepan Maximovich approved. Guard escort to be posted immediately at entrance to Level Three.
‘To be congratulated on his tactful … ’ He read it again, goggle-eyed; very far from expecting that.
The Evenks, in their dormitory, had expected nothing less. They had stopped work and assembled there, having informed the major that they would remain until Stepan Maximovich arrived; which he did within minutes of the major conveying best wishes.
Down the corridor came two guards, Stepan Maximovich between them, and halted at the dormitory.
‘Stepanka!’ They jumped about him and wrung his hand and slapped his back and continued doing so until the two guards, grinning, left the natives to it and departed outside the door.
The Evenks carefully closed the door.
‘By God!’ Stepanka said. He was a merry little fellow, one eye half closed in a permanent wink. ‘I’ve started believing it myself. Is that girl of mine so premature?’
‘A little premature — Komarova confirmed it today. But Kolya here says there’s nothing to worry about.’
‘Worry? Why would I worry? All g of my grandchildren were premature. Forward children!’ Stepanka said proudly.
‘And not one named by you, you old bastard! Did you bring up something to drink, at least?’
‘Not now … But Kolya! I’m glad to know you, Kolya.’ The old Evenk shook hands most warmly. ‘They told me about you, and this poor girl. And I told the Chief the whole story. He knows the father — has him working down there. I don’t know these people myself, you understand. But the Chiefs spoken to him, and he expects the letter. You’ve got it with you?’
‘It’s here,’ Kolya said, and took it reverently out of his waist band. It was in a lavender envelope, folded in two, and he smelt it first and put it to his lips before handing it over.
The old Evenk was greatly touched by the gesture. ‘Kolya, I see right away,’ he said, ‘you’re a good fellow. And you’ll certainly get your reward — in this world or the next. I’ll bring you the reply and you’ll take it to the girl. But tell me — how did the switchover go?’
They told him how the switchover had gone, and soon all of them were slapping backs again in another burst of hilarity.
It went on so long that the guards, thumping on the door, called out that they were on escort duty only until lunch time, and to hurry it up. And Stepanka announced he was ready, and left; this time winking with both eyes.
He was back before time, at four; for they had expected him at night. And this time he was not cheerful, but serious, even mystified.
He had brought an envelope with him, concealed in his felt boots, and when the guards had left he produced it. It was not from the father, he said. It was for Kolya’s eyes alone. He was to see that only Kolya read it.
The Chukchee separated himself and opened the envelope.
A single short note was inside, and he read it twice. Then he looked at Stepanka with his mouth open.
‘You know what’s here?’ he said.
‘The father wants to see you himself.’
‘But how is it possible for —’
‘I don’t know how. It tells you how. The Chief wrote it. You are to read it until you understand it, and then tell me either yes or no, and burn it. This is all he told me.’
The Chukchee muttered to himself, ‘What should I do?’
He saw that all the Evenks were staring at him.
‘Kolya, is it a dangerous thing?’ one of them asked.
‘I don’t know … Maybe.’
‘Then listen, you’ve done enough. You came to bring a letter and to get one. Why does the father want to see you?’
Kolya looked at the note again.
‘ “He does nothing but weep”,’ he read out. There was nothing about weeping in the note. ‘I don’t know … I’ve come so far,’ he said.
‘Well, whatever you decide,’ Stepanka told him, ‘decide now, and burn it.’ He was looking round at the door. Two of the Evenks were standing against the spy hole of the door.
‘Well.’ He licked his lips. ‘Say yes. Tell him yes,’ he said, and flicked his lighter and burnt the note, and then he burnt the envelope too.