The Curious Journey of Mr. Eric Delko or Red Star Galactica

PRESENTLY ALEX, THE caretaker and general factotum, brought in the tea. His arrival prompted Diana to leap up and rush to the window as if doing so would automatically bring a taxi into view.

"I really don't know what's keeping the Doctor," she said, quite superfluously, when nothing happened.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Dear lady, punctuality is a form of hysteria...."

Diana frowned. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning," Arthur went on blithely, "that it's hysterical to be exactly on time, yes? Take me for instance: last week I promised to meet this guy Bulat at the People's Palace. So I turned up on time, just two minutes shy of being late. Of course, Bulat didn't turn up so sharpish. I puffed one cigarette, then another, and by the time he did show up---and he was only twenty minutes late---I was in such a stew that I just walked straight past the poor sod without saying a word. You should have seen his face! You remind me of him."

Diana realized that she was staring in dumb wonder at this handsome young man with a high forehead and a wispy beard. She flushed with chagrin.

"What time is it, anyway?" rhapsodied Arthur, his hands spread wide. "What is time to a lump of rock hurtling between the stars?" He smirked. "Don't panic, I'm just doing my Eric Delko trick. Wait'll I get my pince-nez on! Did you know that he was shortsighted in one eye and farsighted in the other one? Good Lord, that must account for a lot! Oh, and lest we forget this little scar up here." He tapped his forehead. "I collected this little beauty when I was a kid. Bashed my noodle on a rock, diving into the Black Sea."

Diana gazed at Arthur's flawless brow, trying to perceive something that wasn't there.

"I do wish you'd stop going on about Eric," complained Igor. "His Siberian odyssey marks his transition from frivolous young hack to mature artist. It was a rite of passage."

"Is that a fact?" And Arthur stage-whispered lugubriously across the room from Diana. "But I am frivolous--that's the trouble, from a dramatic point of view, I'm no Meyerhold, see? Merely a facsimile of old Eric Delko."

"But you'll do, so long as your talent can be augmented, yes?" Diana nodded. "Then don't worry about it: Dr. Bragin has augmented talents which people didn't even know they possessed---He hypnotized a policeman to believe he was Tchaikovsky---and now the man has entered the Conservatoire. Honest! Dr. Bragin's method is a wonderful means of showing every human being has such---such capabilities."

Arthur giggled, and Diana hoped that her eyes hadn't shone---that would be too much.

"It's not a matter of improving his acting skills, per see," Tisha said. "That's not the idea, Dr. Kotov. It's more a question of...."

"Of becoming Eric Delko, to put it bluntly," Arthur grinned at Diana. "Ably assisted in this brave enterprise, I dearly hope, by you, my sweet little melon."

"Melon?! Why, you---!" she cried indignantly.

"Calm down, woman! That was just one of old Eric's jocular endearments. Addressed to lady friends who yearned for him in vain...He was a bit undersexed, you see, so he preferred bondage to libido. Not that he didn't spend one well-documented night in the arms of a Venus! And he managed to fuck Ludmilla Degtyarova when he finally married her. She had a miscarriage, so that proves it. But he wasn't exactly one of your hot lovers."

"My hot lovers? How dare you!"

"Infinite apologies! I guess I'm still a bit tough to be a proper ascetic Eric, aren't I?"

"I don't know about ascetic!" said Tisha. "He liked to booze-up now and then. And caviar and soft carpets." The Director rubbed his hands appreciatively.

"Which is hardly surprising," said Arthur, "from what we know of his physical maladies."

"Ah, but he knew what caused his ill health." Igor waved his tea around and spilled some. "Youthful poverty and the fight for survival. But the Siberian journey rejuvenated him. Fresh air! And more important, a clear social goal."

"What a load of bullshit," Arthur winked at Diana. "Let me tell you, my luscious cantaloupe, as far as politics was concerned I might as well have been living on Mars. Didn't I once define Socialism as a nervous disorder? Symptom: over-excitability? Though maybe it was guilt that sent me on my trip? Psychiatry knows all about guilt, as you know."

Diana looked embarrassed, so Tisha came to her rescue.

"It's true enough that the critics were sniping at him for not seeming committed enough. All those 'Toads of the Inquisition'!"

Igor glanced at the Director, meaningfully. "Et Tu, Igor?" his expression seemed to say.

Arthur snickered. "Actually, I'd say I was heading for a nervous breakdown back in '78. My brother Potap sniffed it. Critics slamming me. Cossack, a flop. My piles were right buggers. I was spitting blood."

Diana hesitated. "So you prescribed a change of life for yourself?"

"In the same way that I fancied myself as the Great Russian Novelist, yes. Sad, really. Me, the ultimate cameo artist. I hadn't the space in my head for a novel, had I? But off I went to Siberia in search of that space. Not for literary copy, mind you. For infinity."

Tisha nodded happily. "Yes, space. That's the ticket."

"And by experiencing space firsthand, I purged myself of this fanciful ambition. Impressive diagnosis, is it not, Dr. Kotov?"

Diana shook her head noncommittally.

"It was really daft of me to take on the infinite in Siberia. It's just not possible to know the whole---how do the Americans say it?---kit and caboodle. Only idiots and humbugs will tell you otherwise. Life's just like my plays: too foggy."

Tisha clapped ironically. "That's old-hat stuff, Art."

"Oh, come now," snapped Igor. "You adopted a modern scientific approach in your plays. You believed in evidence. Life was your laboratory. So you wrote scientific dramas and science fiction. Dammit, I mean he did! Delko did." Igor sounded confused---not sure as to whether he was addressing Arthur Tolkachyov or Eric Delko.

"My dear chap, you make me sound like Jules Verne. But I'll grant you one thing; I was a master of indeterminacy---if that's what you mean by modern science."

"Not by modern Soviet science! These days we're much closer to knowing everything. It's just a matter of time."

"Only fools and humbugs, I repeat."

Fortunately, they all heard the growl of a car laboring uphill; its wheels spun on the ice, but on it came. Once again, Diana rushed to the window.

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq8HhH65FG5

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdjGLdagN5X
Leonid Bragin was a burly gentle giant, with a puckish smile. His massive head was adorned with a bush of black curls, but his nose was thin and insignificant, with the result that his dark close-deep-set eyes seemed to be burrowing together---to fuse maybe into one cyclopean eye eventually. Under his charcoal suit, he sported the biceps and chest of a muscle-builder; he looked as if he could hold chairs at arm's length for half an hour.

Alex had trailed into the room in Dr. Kotov's wake and carrying the Doctor's doffed greatcoat with gloves stuffed in his pockets as if to imply that this fellow was uncultured enough----compared with artists---to be keeping his coat on indoors. Alex peered down at Bragin's out-and-out leather shoes for any trace of melting slush, then sniffed and wandered off.

"I am touched by your kindness," Tisha murmured. Gripping Bragin's hand deeply between thumb and forefinger, he thought to minimize the chance of having his own hand crushed. But the handshake was soft and Bragin glanced down at Tisha's deep grip in amusement.

"We are none of us what we seem, Tisha Andropov!" Only then did he relinquish Tisha's hand. "In fact, we're all more than we seem. Much, much more! If that wretched taxi driver could have thought he was a great explorer, he would have penetrated the mysteries of the route in a flash!" His eyes twinkled. "But I couldn't risk hypnotizing him, could I? Suppose a policeman stopped us and asked my driver his name and he replied, 'Alexander Humboldt at your service? Oh, perish the thought!"

"So there are perils involved in your theory of 'superknowlege,' eh?"

"No, no; 'Superability'is the correct term. Any 'knowledge' has to come from the person in the trance. There's no point in persuading anyone that they're Leonardo or Michaelangelo if they don't know a scrap of shit about them. You, on the other hand," and Bragin fixed unerringly on Arthur, "possess a plethora of knowledge about Delko, yes?"

The actor twirled his mustache. "That's a maybe...When you come down to brass tacks, we don't know Eric Deklo from Lenin."

"In that case, it falls upon you to select the proper interpretation. And it will be the proper one because it'll be based on your unconscious perceptions---those are a whole lot keener than your conscious faculties. Some people will find it hard to credit, but a trance is not an inferior mental state. Not a bit of it! The electroencephalograph proves just the opposite. A trance is really a far more active mental state than ordinary waking life. So it's your 'super-perception' which we'll bring to the surface---recreating Delko in the process."

"And then I will be able to polish off a state-of-the-art script," Igor stood up and shook hands. "I'm Pushkaryov, by the way. I am the one who spotted your stimulating piece in Knowledge as Power. So I drew it to the attention of Tisha Andropov. Of course, I'm fully aware of your line of work: what the Pravda journalists liked to call "Artificial Reincarnation.'" A superior smile played across Igor's lips. "You seem to have taken it one step further than most." Pushkaryov was aware of a certain edge in the man's voice. A writer wouldn't normally expect to take dictation from an actor---but in this instance, a writer had taken steps to ensure the very thing! So was Mr. Igor Pushkaryov entirely confident of his own creative ability? Or had he cleverly found the perfect pretext for exempting him from responsibility?

Actor Arthur's bearing and tone seemed a lot more nonchalant. From the little that he'd said thus far, and from what Pushkaryov had already heard about him, the man seemed devoid of artistic egotism. This Arthur wasn't a star, with a star's personality and prestige hanging in the balance. Excellent! In that case, the superability channel wouldn't be blocked by competing signals...

"Well, naturally Dr. Bragin has gone one step further!" Diana gushed. "You usually need a whole series of trances before the acquired skill filters through and stabilizes. Usually, the trance subject wakes up and promptly forgets all about being Tchaikovsky or whoever."

"Ah, so the subject forgets!" said Tisha gaily. "Surely Arthur isn't supposed to stay in a trance for weeks on end? How cruel to snap him out of it when the film's in the can---and the poor fellow remembers nothing about his achievement! That wouldn't be art. It'd be a conjuring trick."

Pushkaryov scrutinized Andropov's blithe countenance. How could the main point of the report in Knowledge as Power have so eluded the man? Pushkaryov surmised that Andropov was fantasizing him---as a blend of variety theater strongman and stage mesmerist. Yes, there was The Magnificent Leonid---stretched out in between two chairs with two blocks of concrete on his chest; and Diana Kotov, clad in glittering attire, her thighs bare to the waist, would smash them with a sledgehammer.

Bragin's jocular tone said quite clearly: "You, Doctor, might be able to direct anybody to become someone else---scientifically. But I'm still the true Director. And if this movie isn't fabulous, then you're a charlatan."

Ach! people's tangled, hidden motives! Sometimes, thought Bragin, I'm just too perceptive for my own good... But danger lurked here: danger to the Doctor's own reputation, which naturally he was hoping to propagandize by means of the proposed movie for the sake of his research and funding.

If Bragin was maladroit in his handling of the movie or even mangled it subconsciously out of jealousy, the Doctor's hard-won reputation would be injured publicly on film screens through all the Republics...

It was clear that he, Bragin, was indeed being asked to perform as a stage hypnotist (albeit from the wings)---this was what Pushkaryov the impresario wanted. But Pushkaryov also demanded scientific credibility so the movie would be an advancement of human knowledge---and a bold propaganda victory for the USSR! These were mixed motives, however.

"No, no!" Diana protested. Diana was an enthusiastic young lady but she wasn't entirely perceptive yet... "Dr. Bragin has achieved a breakthrough in technique. From this time forth the trance subject can call up his alter ego at will, just like an actor does," she added grandly, though the acting profession was uncharted territory for her. "The human mind isn't a single psychic system. It's many different systems, all cooperating. Like your own Film Unit!"

Arthur smirked at Igor, who looked upset.

"So Dr. Bragin selectively hypnotizes the left brain. But he leaves the other hemisphere semi-autonomous. He calls this method 'split-hypnosis.' Split hypnosis should have important applications to the treatment of schizophrenia. But obviously, it can help in the present case, too, where....er....Mr. Tolkachyov is sane. And in cases like it."

Pushkaryov took over, charmingly. "And that's why I'm so delighted to work with you. To be quite honest, I was thinking along these same lines myself. But you beat me to it, you smart fellows! And now, since I'm inexcusably late, maybe we should proceed to a demonstration! The first course: the soup....When shall we begin with, Tisha Andropov?"

"When? Well, now..."

"No, I mean, which year?"

"Oh, hmmm, yes. I see. What do you think, Igor?

"How about here in Krasnoyarsk? Just before Delko sets off for Kansk." Igor thumbed through his notebook. "Let's see...that'll be...yes. May 29, 1880."

"I think," said Tisha, "it might be best if we slot in slightly earlier...just before Tomsk, hmm?"

Bragin pulled an eyepatch and an earplug out of his pocket.

Igor shrugged. "It's all the same to me. Tomsk first, then we'll jump him forward to Krasnoyarsk."

"Fine," said Bragin. "Do we have a tape recorder? Yes---Paper? Good. Now, if you'll just kindly fix this patch comfortably over your right eye, Arthur..."

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxRAZfHIzkL

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjCD4RdzyRS

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRRANBKd7Nf

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgs8er5Q10c

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDyOHm7nup7

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFGXN8cpvgc

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLgFGibUVEV

589Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbDGT5mpgkQ

The Curious Journey of Mr. Eric Delko or Red Star Galactica

REGISTER

LOGIN

Interface Language:

Story Language: