“Pustosh.”
“This emptiness, pustosh, was here long before it was given the name Russia. And when Russia is no more, this pustosh will continue to exist, so there’s no need to be concerned for its sake. If ‘Russia’ does come to an end, other people will come and settle the land and give it a different name. Is the name all that important to you? Plus, you’re not even a Russian, so why are you so concerned about Russia? What’s it ever done for you?”
“Ah, so now you’ll start in on my Khazar identity. The same old xenophobia—it’s an old joke that’s not funny anymore, and hasn’t been for a long time now. I’m a citizen of my country.”
“Oh, if only you knew, my dear friend, what you’re really a citizen of… no, I’m not talking about how your soul is one little particle in the Supreme, in Brahman, which is greater than the whole universe. But, look, if you need to hide behind the illusion of some country or other, help yourself. Nothing to it. Maya!”
“Could you repeat that? In Russian, this time?”
“All of Russia is between your two ears. And, by the way, that’s where China and Holland are too. Take Nils and Guan, they’re just concerned about their respective countries’ fates. Everyone worries about the future. But as far as what’s used up first—oil, rice, or dreams—that’s anyone’s guess. That’s the plain and simple truth.”
“I learned the plain and simple truth from my grandma: Don’t pick up hitchhikers, don’t talk to strangers, don’t open your door to anyone knocking in the night. But if you do, at least try to give your visitor some clear answers.”
“I’ll try.”
“Next: How is all of this connected: the pills, Holland, the Khazars…?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“No.”
“Not too bright, are you?”
He stubbed his cigarette out unceremoniously and mashed it under his heel onto my freshly washed floor—he hadn’t taken his shoes off at the door—and snapped:
“But you’re the creator here, not me. Author, writer. What I am is only image and likeness.”
“All right, here it is, The Maya Pill for Dummies. The Khazars came up with the drug. They made a goo out of fish guts—like the powder from poisonous fish that voodoo doctors feed their victims to turn them into zombies—and mixed it with a poppy-based opiate in whatever special way. The concoction had a slimy, sticky consistency, hence the name “fish paste.” The toxic fish extract paralyzes the will and enhances suggestibility, while the opium causes a pleasurable narcotic effect and brings on hallucinations. Soon the Khazars realized that the fish paste could serve as a substitute for actual goods, or, at least, could change the properties of said goods as perceived by the user.”
“Wait! So can this mixture actually replace material goods for the user, or does it only create incorrect conceptions of the value of whatever it is?”
“The answer to that question depends on which position you adhere to in that Hindu dispute about the nature of reality—the first or the second.”
“Personally, I prefer the third school, the one with the singing and dancing. But you’re apparently a secret follower of those luckless philosophers who were poisoned with fly agaric before the dispute began. I can tell that your answers won’t lead to anything of substance. Let’s close the subject. Go on about the Khazars.”
“So Khazaria became a transit center for trade between east and west, north and south. Anything with fish paste added sold much better everywhere. This made Khazaria wealthy and prosperous, but only for a while. The fish paste eventually destroyed the underlying economy. Nothing was as profitable as making fish paste. Gradually the Khazars stopped doing anything else, and concentrated all their efforts on mixing the drug and using the paste to cement their trade relationships. Soon the wealth of Khazaria started attracting attention from hostile nations, and the Khazars were powerless to resist. They had already forgotten how to plow, and make war, and build. In fact, it was the Byzantines who built their last fortress, Serkel. Instead of their native warriors they used mercenaries, and the mercenaries had no particular desire to give their lives for someone else’s country. Khazaria fell under enemy attack: Rus from the west, nomads from the east. After their cities were destroyed, many Khazars fled to Europe, taking with them the recipe for the fish paste. In Europe the concoction was modified and refined for specific needs, either by the Khazars themselves or by people who had managed one way or another to get their hands on the recipe. Since the time of the great Khazar migration to Europe, trade began to develop, towns grew into great cities, the bourgeoisie emerged, and capitalism was born. When the mysticism of the Middle Ages fell into decline, sorcerers and alchemists gave way to other pseudo-scientists specializing in such fields as marketing and management. These sciences are essentially the same as their predecessors: They’re merely research into the most effective ways to use fish paste. And how to turn everything into money.”
“So what did they come up with? How did they use the paste?”
“Every way you can imagine. The Europeans were far more talented and inventive, and made considerably more progress, than the ancient Khazars, who had never managed to turn their product into anything more than a disgusting and smelly slime. As you know, in the Netherlands, which has always been a strong country in the chemical industry, they figured out how to produce the stuff in the form of neat little pink pills with no taste or smell.”
“Yes, the pills. I have some. Want a try?”
“No thank you. I have some of my own.”
“Fair enough. What happened then?”
“It just took off. At first the chemists were mostly interested in the actual recipe—that is, the specific ingredients that went into it and their proper proportions. Later on, some brilliant thinkers realized that the really important ingredients were actually the four principles of the gunk’s effect: suppression of the will, an increase in suggestibility, arousal of pleasure, and the inducement of a hallucinatory state. Here too, of course, you need to know in what proportions to combine these effects: to what degree ought the will be suppressed, ought suggestibility be enhanced, ought the pleasure centers of the brain be activated, and then which particular hallucinations ought to be induced for whatever specific purpose. Once they saw that the paste’s value was in these states of mind, not so much in the goo itself, they discovered that they could reproduce them by other means in just about any form you could think of. Those same principles go into every TV broadcast or election speech. Books too, for example. Books are also pills!”
He had no more questions. He just stood up and went out the open door. Didn’t even say good-bye.
It was already light outside. I’d managed to get a couple of hours of sleep. Then I woke up, all by myself, without the alarm clock. It had been a long time since I’d set it; what was the point?
I washed, shaved carefully, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. I looked in the cupboard and chose an outfit that would make a good impression, professional but not too formal. And headed for Nevsky Prospect.
Nevsky was already crowded with people and cars. Amid the dense fabric of the city’s usual noise I heard a strange sound, something like little bells ringing. I looked down the street in the direction of the noise, and saw a sparse but exotic-looking little procession approaching. Girls wearing bright Indian saris and men draped in what looked like white and saffron-colored sheets. They were all singing and dancing. One boy was beating a drum that hung on a strap around his neck; some of the others were tapping miniature copper cymbals. It was the cymbals’ thin, bell-like sound that I had heard from a distance. I thought, there they are, the philosophers of the third school.