I mean, I also hated how long it took to exit the elevator and go down the hallway.
Even as I stopped in front of a door and pressed the doorbell, I was like an anxious kid.
I heard the lock turn. Then the door opened. There was a gust of warm air and a sweet smell.
She had hair so blond it was almost silver. Skin as pale as fine porcelain. Eyes as cold as ice—which melted when she saw me.
“Oh, Danya! You’re finally here, milyi moi <my dear>!”
When I saw her face light up, like the sun when the clouds parted, I felt my shoulders relax a bit. Call the words sweet nothings or put-ons, I didn’t care.
“Mozhno tebia obniat’ <Can I give you a hug>?” I asked.
“Konechno.” Stasia giggled, and she was the one who took me in her arms.
She pulled me through the doorway, her face close to mine. Her cheeks flushed a faint rose-pink.
Who else but me would know? Know how Miss Moscow would stretch up just a little on her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
“Mn…”
Our lips touched. Her breath mingled with mine. Our tongues intertwined. Soft, real flesh. The pleasant weight of her body against mine.
Vodka couldn’t hold a candle to this. My freezing body was filled with Stasia’s warmth.
—I’m gonna die. Real soon.
The thought seemed to dog me all the time. I mean, it was probably true.
But so what if it was?
That’s something to think about later.
✦ ✦ ✦
The Space Race ended in victory for our great motherland. The Zond VIII planted a red flag in the dust of the moon while the US was busy screwing around with its Star Wars program.
Then there were endless international conflicts. Crowds of wounded and mutilated soldiers. Cyborg technology was intended for use in the Space Race, but it was applied to military prosthetics.
So there it was: After two generations, the Cold War between the Eastern and Western blocs showed no sign of thawing.
Gray snow dotted the sky, which was the color of diluted, flickering neon lights. This filthy armpit part of town was infested with mechanized returnee soldiers and scuttling workers trying to avoid the veterans’ eyes.
I worked for a division that kept watch on the thousands of cyber nets that stretched out around the tower. Anyone careless enough to get close went straight to forced detention.
The KGB and GRU were lurking in the background, busy fighting to the death against spies and mafias from the Western bloc. And bribes kept the militsiya off everyone’s back.
The news flashing across the CRT TV showed another glorious victory for our Warsaw Treaty Organization. Rumor had it that the Western bloc nations were harrowed by witch hunts that they claimed were looking for the Reds.
Humanity managed to cling to life here on Earth, while we stared one another down with nuclear weapons.
Freedom, truth, a future, prosperity—all of those had vanished a long time ago.
I’m Danila Kragin, a Janitor. I’m a man any of the powers that be could plausibly disown, and once again today, I’m in the streets of Moscow, doing my part to beautify our city…