Life And Fate

'And he's even stopped gossiping,' laughed Viktor. 'A bird building a nest. Yes, I like that.'

Very abruptly, Savostyanov turned to face Viktor. There was a serious look on his young face.

'By the way,' he said, 'there's something I must tell you. Viktor Pavlovich, Shishakov's evening – to which you weren't invited – was absolutely appalling. It quite shocked me.'

Viktor frowned. He felt humiliated by this expression of sympathy.

'All right. Leave it at that,' he said drily.

'Viktor Pavlovich,' Savostyanov went on, 'I know you don't care whether you were invited or not. But has Pyotr Lavrentyevich told you the filth Gavronov came out with? He said your work stinks of Judaism and that Gurevich only called it a classic because you are a Jew. And the authorities just gave a quiet smile of approval. That's "the Slav Brotherhood" for you.'

Instead of going to the canteen at lunchtime, Viktor paced up and down his office. Who would have thought people could stoop so low? Good for Savostyanov, anyway! And he seemed so empty and frivolous with his endless jokes and his photos of girls in swimming costumes. Anyway it was all nonsense. Gavronov's blatherings didn't matter. He was just a petty, envious psychopath. And if no one had replied, it was because what he'd said was patently absurd.

All the same, he was upset and worried by this nonsense. How could Shishakov not invite him? It was really very rude and stupid of him. What made it worse was that Viktor didn't give a damn for that fool Shishakov and his evenings. And yet he was as upset as if he'd been struck by some irreparable tragedy. He knew he was being foolish, but he couldn't help it… And he'd wanted to be given one more egg than Sokolov! Well, well!

But there was one thing that hurt him deeply. He wanted to say to Sokolov, 'Aren't you ashamed of yourself, my friend? Why didn't you tell me how Gavronov slandered me? That's twice you've kept silent: once then and once with me.'

He was very distressed indeed; but this didn't stop him from saying to himself:

'Yes, but who's talking? You didn't tell your friend Sokolov about Karimov's suspicions of Madyarov – a relative of his. You kept your mouth shut too. Out of embarrassment? Tact? Nonsense! Out of cowardice, Jewish cowardice!'

It was obviously one of those days. Next, Anna Stepanovna Loshakova came into his office, looking very upset. 'Surely she hasn't heard of my troubles already,' thought Viktor.

'What's the matter, my dear Anna Stepanovna?'

'What is all this, Viktor Pavlovich?' she began. 'Acting like that behind my back! What have I done to deserve it?'

During the lunch-break Anna Stepanovna had been told to go to the personnel department. There she had been asked to write a letter of resignation. The director had ordered them to dismiss any laboratory assistant without further education.

'I've never heard such nonsense,' said Viktor. 'Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you.'

Anna Stepanovna had been particularly hurt when Dubyonkov had said that the administration had nothing against her personally.

'What could they have against me, Viktor Pavlovich? Oh God, forgive me, I'm interrupting your work.'

Viktor threw a coat over his shoulders and walked across the courtyard to the two-storey building that housed the personnel department.

'Very well,' he said to himself, 'very well.' He didn't articulate his thoughts any further – this 'very well' had many meanings.

Dubyonkov greeted Viktor and said: 'I was just about to phone you.'

'About Anna Stepanovna?'

'What makes you think that? No, what I wanted to say is that in view of various circumstances senior members of staff are being asked to fill in this questionnaire here.'

Viktor looked at the sheaf of papers.

'Hm! That looks as though it'll keep me busy for a week.'

'Nonsense, Viktor Pavlovich. Just one thing though: in the event of a negative answer, rather than putting a dash, you must write out in full, "No, I have not," "No, I was not," "No, I do not," and so on.'

'Listen, my friend,' said Viktor. 'It's quite absurd to be dismissing our senior laboratory assistant, Anna Stepanovna Loshakova. I want that order cancelled.'

'Loshakova?' repeated Dubyonkov. 'But, Viktor Pavlovich, how can I cancel an order that comes from the director himself?'

'But it's mad,' said Viktor. 'She saved the Institute. She looked after everything during the bombing. And now she's being dismissed on purely administrative grounds.'

'Members of staff are never dismissed from the Institute without administrative grounds,' said Dubyonkov pompously.

'Anna Stepanovna is not only a wonderful person, she's one of the finest workers in our laboratory.'

'If she really is irreplaceable,' said Dubyonkov, 'then you must speak to Kasyan Terentyevich. By the way, there are two other points concerning your laboratory that have to be settled.'

Dubyonkov held out two sheets of paper that had been stapled together.

'This is about the nomination for the position of research assistant of…' He looked down at the paper and read out very slowly, 'Landesman, Emiliy Pinkhusovich.'

'Yes,' said Viktor, recognizing the paper in Dubyonkov's hands, 'I wrote that.'

'And this is Kasyan Terentyevich's decision: "Lacking the necessary qualifications." '

'What on earth do you mean? He's got perfect qualifications. How's Kovchenko to know who I need?'

'Then you'll have to discuss that with Kasyan Terentyevich too,' said Dubyonkov. 'And this is a statement made by our members of staff still in Kazan – together with your petition.'

'Yes?'

'Kasyan Terentyevich considers it inappropriate for them to return now since they are working productively at Kazan University. The matter will be reviewed at the end of the academic year.'

Dubyonkov spoke very quietly and softly, as though he wanted to tone down this bad news; his face, however, expressed only inquisi-tiveness and ill-will.

'Thank you, comrade Dubyonkov,' said Viktor.

For a second time Viktor walked across the yard, repeating to himself, 'Very well, very well.' No, he didn't need the authorities' support, his friends' affection or his wife's understanding; he could fight on alone.

He went up to the first floor of the main building. The secretary announced him, and Kovchenko, in a black jacket and an embroidered Ukrainian shirt, came out of his office.

'Welcome, Viktor Pavlovich, come through into my hut.'

Viktor went in. It was furnished with red sofas and armchairs. Kovchenko motioned Viktor towards one of the sofas and sat down beside him.

Kovchenko smiled as he listened to Viktor. His apparent friendliness was very like Dubyonkov's. And no doubt he had given a similar smile when Gavronov had spoken about Viktor's work.

'But what can we do?' Kovchenko gestured helplessly. 'We didn't think this up ourselves. She stayed here during the bombing, you say? That can't be considered of especial merit now, Viktor Pavlovich. Every Soviet citizen will put up with bombing if that's what his country orders.'

He thought for a moment, then said:

'There is one possibility, however, though it will attract criticism. We can give Loshakova the position of junior assistant. And she can keep her card for the special store. Yes – that I can promise you.'

'No,' said Viktor. 'That would be insulting.'

'Viktor Pavlovich, are you saying that the Soviet State should be governed by one set of laws and Shtrum's laboratory by another?'

'No, I'm simply asking for Soviet law to be applied. According to Soviet law, Loshakova cannot be dismissed. And while we're on the subject of law, Kasyan Terentyevich,' Viktor went on, 'why did you refuse to confirm the appointment of young Landesman? He's extremely talented.'

Kovchenko bit his lip.

'Viktor Pavlovich, he may have the abilities you require, but you must understand that there are other circumstances to be considered by the Institute.'