REDPLENTY

FrancisSpufford

2010

TableofContentsTitlePageDedicationTheCast

PARTIIntroduction1.:TheProdigy,19382.:MrChairman,19593.:LittlePlasticBeakers,19594.:WhiteDust,1953

PARTIIIntroduction1.:ShadowPrices,19602.:FromthePhotograph,19613.:StormyApplause,1961

PARTIIIIntroduction1.:MidsummerNight,19622.:ThePriceofMeat,1962

PARTIVIntroduction1.:TheMethodofBalances,19632.:Prisoner’sDilemma,19633.:Favours,1964

PARTVIntroduction1.:TradingDown,19642.:Ladies,CoverYourEars!19653.:Psychoprophylaxis,1966

PARTVIIntroduction1.:TheUnifiedSystem,19702.:PoliceintheForest,19683.:ThePensioner,1968AcknowledgementsNotesBibliographyAbouttheAuthorBytheSameAuthorCopyright

TheCastinorderoffirstappearance

CAPITALSindicatethepartofanamemostoftenusedinthebook*indicatesarealperson(I.2, IV.1,etc) indicates thepartandchapternumbersof furtherscenes inwhich

thepersonappears

OnthetraminLeningrad

*LEONIDVITALEVICHKantorovich,agenius(I.1,II.1,III.1,VI.2,VI.3)

VisitingtheUnitedStates

*NikitaSergeyevichKHRUSHCHEV,FirstSecretaryoftheCommunistPartyoftheSovietUnion andChairman of theCouncil ofMinisters (I.2, III.2,V.1,VI.3)

*NINAPETROVNAKhrushcheva,hiswife(I.2,VI.3)*AndreiGROMYKO,SovietForeignMinister(I.2)*OlegTROYANOVSKY,Khrushchev’sinterpreter(I.2)*DwightD.EISENHOWER,PresidentoftheUnitedStates(I.2)*HenryCabotLODGE,USAmbassadortotheUnitedNations(I.2)*AverellHARRIMAN,amillionaireactingasEast–Westliaison(I.2)

AttheAmericanExhibitioninSokolnikiPark

GALINA,astudentatMoscowStateUniversityandKomsomolmember(I.3,V.3)VOLODYA,ditto,herfiancé(I.3,III.2)KHRISTOLYUBOV,aminorapparatchik(I.3)FYODOR,aKomsomolmemberfromanelectricalfactory(I.3,V.2)ROGERTAYLOR,anAfrican-Americanguideattheexhibition(I.3)

WalkingtotheVillage

EMILArslanovichShaidullin,awell-connectedyoungeconomist(I.4, II.1, III.1,V.2,VI.2)

MAGDA,hisfiancée(I.4)HerFATHER(I.4)HerMOTHER(I.4)HerGRANDFATHER(I.4)SASHA,herbrother(I.4)PLETKIN,thecollectivefarmmanager(I.4)

AttheconferenceintheAcademyofSciences

* Vasily Sergeyevich NEMCHINOV, a reforming economist and academicpolitician(II.1)

*BOYARSKII,apoliticaleconomistoftheoldschool(II.1)

InthebasementoftheInstituteofPreciseMechanics

* Sergei Alexeievich LEBEDEV, a pioneering Soviet computer designer (II.2,VI.1)

InMoscowonthedayofthePartyCongress

* Sasha/Alexander GALICH, a writer of stage comedies, screenplays andideologicallyacceptablesonglyrics(II.3,VI.2)

MORIN,aThaw-mindednewspapereditor(II.3)MARFATIMOFEYEVNA,anewspapercensor(II.3)GRIGORIY,adoormanattheWriters’Union(II.3)

AtAkademgorodokin1963

ZOYAVaynshteyn,abiologist(III.1,VI.2)VALENTIN,agraduatestudentinmathematics(III.1,VI.2)KOSTYA,agraduatestudentineconomics(III.1,VI.2)HAIRBANDGIRL,Valentin’swould-begirlfriend(III.1)*AndreiPetrovichERSHOV,acomputerprogrammer(III.1)MO,asardonicintellectual(III.1,VI.2)SOBCHAK,anexasperatedintellectual(III.1)

InNovocherkassk

BASOV,regionalPartySecretary(III.2)*KUROCHKIN,directoroftheBudennyElectricLocomotiveWorks(III.2)*AnastasMIKOYAN,long-servingPresidium(Politburo)member(III.2)*FrolKOZLOV,PresidiummemberandheirapparenttoKhrushchev(III.2)TheMONK-FACEDMAN,aveteranoperativeoftheorgansofsecurity(III.2)

AtGosplan

MaksimMaksimovichMOKHOV,DeputyDirectoroftheSectorofChemicalandRubberGoods(IV.1)

OnthetrainfromSolovets

ARKHIPOV,KOSOYandMITRENKO,themanagementoftheSolkemfibviscoseworks(IV.2)

PONOMAREV,anengineerandformerpoliticalprisoner(IV.2)

InSverdlovsk

CHEKUSKIN,atolkachor‘pusher’;abuyingagent(IV.3)SEÑORALOPEZ,aSpanishdancingteacher(IV.3)RYSZARD, a junior manager in the chemical equipment division of Uralmash

(IV.3)STEPOVOI,aninexperiencedexecutive(IV.3)KOLYA,akingthief(IV.3)TheLIEUTENANT,apoliceman(IV.3)VASSILY,atruckdriverandSpartakfan(IV.3)

AttheleadershipcompoundinMoscow

Khrushchev’sCHAUFFEUR(V.1)*MELNIKOV,commandantofKhrushchev’sfirstsecuritydetailinhisretirement

(V.1)Khrushchev’sCOOK(V.1)*Khrushchev’sSON,SergeiKhrushchev,arocketdesigner(V.1)

Atthegovernmentdacha

* Alexei Nikolaevich KOSYGIN, Chairman of the State Planning Committee

(Gosplan)(V.2)

InGalina’sflat,andthelabourward

FYODOR’SMOTHER,anannoyinglyslimwomaninherforties(V.3)IVANOV,herlover(V.3)AtiredDOCTOR(V.3)INNAOLEGOVNA,amidwife(V.3)

IntheKremlincorridor

FRENCHIE,asecretary(VI.1)

AtAkademgorodokin1968

MAX,Zoya’sten-year-oldson(VI.2)TYOMA (short for Artemy), a doorkeeper in the Institute of Cytology and

Genetics(VI.2)TheDIRECTORoftheInstituteofCytologyandGenetics(VI.2)

Anoteonthecharacters

Althoughthelistabovedividesthepeopleinthisbookintotwocategories,realand imaginary, there are a couple of characterswho,while fictional, exist in arelationship to real historical individuals: they occupy similar historicalpositions, theyplaysimilarprofessional roles, theyshare toa limiteddegree inthelife-historiesandlife-eventsoftherealpeoplewhopromptedtheirinvention.Yet theyare inventions. They are fictional people standing roughly where realpeoplestood:ZoyaVaynshteyndisplacingtherealfruit-flybiologistRaissaBerg,and Emil Shaidullin rudely elbowing aside the eminent economist AbelAganbegyan.ItisimportanttounderstandthatZoyaandEmil,asrepresentedhere,camestraightoutofmyhead.Their characterisationswerenot the resultof anyprocessofintervieworresearchorinvestigationonmypart,andarenotintendedto reflect any judgement of mine on the character of the real scientists whoseplacestheyhavetaken.Nocharacteristic,trait,action,thought,intention,utteranceor opinion of these characters should be taken as an indication of anycorrespondingcharacteristic,trait,action,thought,intention,utteranceoropinionbelongingtotherealindividuals.

PARTI

Thisisnotanovel.Ithastoomuchtoexplain,tobeoneofthose.Butitisnotahistoryeither,foritdoesitsexplainingintheformofastory;onlythestoryisthe story of an idea, first of all, and only afterwards, glimpsed through thechinksoftheidea’sfate,thestoryofthepeopleinvolved.Theideaisthehero.Itistheideathatsetsforth,intoaworldofhazardsandillusions,monstersandtransformations,helpedbysomeofthoseitmeetsalongthewayandhinderedby others. Best to call this a fairytale, then – though it really happened, orsomethinglikeit.Andnotjustanyfairytale,butspecificallyaRussianfairytale,to go alongside the stories of Baba Yaga and the Glass Mountain thatAfanaseyev the folklorist collected when he rode out over the black earth ofRussia,underitswidesky,inthenineteenthcentury.WhereWestern tales begin by shifting us to another time – ‘Once upon a

time’ they say, meaning elsewhen, meaning then rather than now – Russianskazkimakeanadjustmentofplace.‘Inacertainland’, theystart;or, ‘In thethree-times-ninth kingdom…’Meaning elsewhere,meaning there rather thanhere.Yettheseelsewheresarealwaysrecognisableashome.Inthedistancewillalwaysbeawood-walledtownwherethechurcheshaveoniondomes.TherulerwillalwaysbeaTsar, IvanorVladimir.Theearth isalwaysblack.Thesky isalwayswide.It’sRussia,alwaysRussia,thedeardreadfulenormousterritoryattheedgeofEuropewhich isas largeasallEuropeput together.And,also, itisn’t.ItisstoryRussia,notrealRussia;aplaceneverquiteinperfectoverlapwith thedaylightcountryof thesamename. It isasnear to itasawish is toreality, and as far away too. For the tales supplied what the real countrylacked, when villagers were telling them, and Afanaseyev was writing themdown.RealRussia’s fieldsgrewscraggycropsofbuckwheatandrye.StoryRussia

hadmagictableclothsservingfeastswithoutend.RealRussia’sroadsweremudand ruts. Story Russia abounded in tools of joyful velocity: flying carpets,geniesoftherushingair,horsesthatscarcelybentthegrasstheygallopedon.RealRussiafixeditspeopleinsluggishsocialimmobility.StoryRussiasentitslively boys to seek the Firebird or to woo the Swan Maiden. The storiesdreamedawayreality’sdefects.Theymadepromisesgoodenoughtolastforoneeveningoffirelight;promiseswhichthetellerandthehearersknewcouldonlybe delivered in some Russian otherwhere. They could come true only in theversionofhomewherethebroke-backedtrestleoverthestreamatthevillage’sendbecame‘abridgeofwhitehazelwoodwithoakenplanks,spreadwithpurple

cloths and nailed with copper nails’. Only in the wish country, the dreamcountry.Onlyinthetwenty-seventhkingdom.In the twentieth century, Russians stopped telling skazki. And at the same

time, theywere told that theskazkiwerecoming true.Thestories’name foramagic carpet, samolet, ‘self-flyer’, had already become the ordinary Russianword for an aeroplane.Now voices from the radio and themovie screen andtelevision began to promise that the magic tablecloth samobranka, ‘self-victualler’, would soon follow after. ‘In our day,’ Nikita Khrushchev told acrowd in the Lenin Stadium of Moscow on 28 September 1959, ‘the dreamsmankindcherishedforages,dreamsexpressedinfairytaleswhichseemedsheerfantasy,arebeingtranslatedintorealitybyman’sownhands.’Hemeant,aboveall,theskazki’sdreamsofabundance.Humanity’sancientconditionofscarcitywasgoingtoend,imminently.Everyonewasgoingtoclimbthecabbagestalk,scramble through thehole in the sky,andarrive in the landwheremillstonesrevolvedallby themselves. ‘Whenever theygavea turn,acakeandasliceofbreadwithbutterandsourcreamappeared,andontopofthem,apotofgruel.’Now,insteadofbeingtheimaginedcompensationforanemptybelly, thesourcreamandthebutterweretrulygoingtoflow.Andofcourse,Khrushchevwasright.Thatisexactlywhatdidhappeninthe

twentiethcentury,forhundredsofmillionsofpeople.Thereisindeedmorefood,andmorekindsoffood,inoneordinarysupermarketofthepresentday,thaninanyoftheoldhungrydreams,dreamedinRussiaorelsewhere.ButKhrushchevbelievedthattheplentyofthestorieswascominginSovietRussia,andcomingbecauseofsomethingthattheSovietUnionpossessedandthehungrylandsofcapitalism lacked: the planned economy. Because the whole system ofproductionanddistribution in theUSSRwasownedby the state, because allRussiawas(inLenin’swords)‘oneoffice,onefactory’,itcouldbedirected,ascapitalism could not, to the fastest, most lavish fulfilment of human needs.Therefore itwould easily out-produce thewasteful chaos of themarketplace.Planning would be the USSR’s own self-turning millstone, its own self-victuallingtablecloth.ThisRussian fairytale began to be told in the decade of famine before the

SecondWorldWar,anditlastedofficiallyuntilCommunismfell.Hardlyanyonebelieved it,by theend. Inpractice, from the late1960sonall that theSovietregimeaspiredtodowastoprovideapacifiyingminimumofconsumergoodstotheinhabitantsofthevastshoddyapartmentbuildingsringingeverySovietcity.Butonceupona time the storyof redplentyhadbeen serious:anattempt tobeatcapitalismonitsownterms,andtomakeSovietcitizenstherichestpeoplein the world. For a short while, it even looked – and not just to Nikita

Khrushchev–asifthestorymightbecomingtrue.Intelligencewasinvestedinit,aswellasfoolishness:ageneration’shopes,andageneration’sintellectualgifts,anda tyranny’sguiltywish forahappyending.Thisbook isabout thatmoment. It is about the cleverest version of the idea, the most subtle of theSovietattempts to pull a working samobranka out of the dream country. It isabout theadventuresof the ideaof redplentyas it camehopefullyalong thehighroad.But it is not a history. It is not a novel. It is itself a fairytale; and like a

fairytaleitiswishful,irresponsible,nottobereliedon.Thenotesat thebackindicatewherethestoryittellsdependsoninvention,wheretheexplanationitgives depends on lies.Remember, as you read, that this story does not takeplaceintheliteral,historicalUnionofSovietSocialistRepublics,butonlyinsome nearby kingdom; as near to it aswishes are to reality, and also as faraway.

Notes–Introduction

1Abridgeofwhitehazelwood:this,andeveryquotationfromafairytale,comesfromAleksandrAfanas’ev[Afanaseyev],RussianFairyTales,translatedbyNorbertGuterman(NewYork:Pantheon,1945),insomecasesslightlyadapted.Forformalandanthropologicalanalysis,seeMariaKravchenko,TheWorldoftheRussianFairyTale(Berne,1987).

2Russians stopped telling skazki: for the deliberate attempt to manufacture a continuing Soviet ‘folk’tradition, with Stalin cast as mythic champion or good tsar, see Frank J. Miller, Folklore for Stalin:RussianFolklore andPseudo-folklore of the StalinEra (Armonk:M.E.Sharpe, Inc., 1990); and alsoJohnMcClureandMichaelUrban,‘TheFolkloreofStateSocialism’,SovietStudiesvol.35no.4(1983),pp.471–86;FelixJ.Oinas,‘FolkloreandPoliticsintheSovietUnion’,SlavicReview32(1973),pp.45–58;andRachelGoff,‘TheRoleofTraditionalRussianFolkloreinSovietPropaganda’,Perspectives:StudentJournal of Germanic and Slavic Studies (Brigham Young University), vol. 12, Winter 2004, at:http://germslav.byu.edu/perspectives/w2004contents. html. For an exploitation in contemporary fantasy ofRussian folklore and the Soviet/post-Soviet setting, see LizWilliams,Nine Layers of Sky (New York:BantamSpectra,2003).

3Thestories’nameforamagiccarpet:seeKravchenko,TheWorldoftheRussianFairyTale.4 ‘In our day,’ Nikita Khrushchev told a crowd: see Khrushchev in America: Full Texts of theSpeechesMadebyN.S.KhrushchevonHisTouroftheUnitedStates,September15–27,1959 (NewYork:CrosscurrentsPress,1960),whichincludesthisspeech,madeinMoscowonhisreturn.

5AllRussiawas (inLenin’swords) ‘one office, one factory’: technically, in fact, a prediction by himabout theworkingofpost-revolutionarysociety,madejustbefore theBolshevikputsch,andpublishedjustafterit,inTheStateandRevolution(1918),ch.5.‘Thewholeofsocietywillhavebecomeoneofficeandone factory with equal work and equal pay.’ There are many, many editions, but see, for example,V.I.Lenin,SelectedWorksvol.2(Moscow:ProgressPublishers,1970).

Inacertainkingdom, inacertain land,namely, thevery landinwhichwelive…

TheProdigy,1938A tramwas coming, squealingmetal againstmetal, throwing blue-white sparksinto the winter dark. Without thinking about it, Leonid Vitalevich lent hisincrement of shove to the jostling crowd, and was lifted with the rest of thecollectivity over the rear step and into the cram of human flesh behind theconcertinadoor.‘C’moncitizens,pushup!’saidashortwomannexttohim,asiftheyhadachoiceaboutit,asiftheycoulddecidetomoveornot,wheneveryoneinsideaLeningradtramwaslockedinthestruggletogetfromtheentrydoorattheback to the exit at the front by the time their stop came around. Yet the socialmiracletookplace:somewhereatthefarendasmallmobofpassengersburpedout onto the roadway, and a squeezing ripple travelled down the car, a tram-peristalsispropelledbyshouldersandelbows,creatingjustenoughspacetopressintobefore thedoor closed.Theyellowbulbsoverhead flickered, and the tramrocked awaywith a rising hum.LeonidVitalevichwaswedged against ametalpostononeside,ontheotheragainsttheshortwoman.Shewaswedgedagainstatall fellowwith a big chin and blond hair standing on end. Beyond himwas aclerkwithaglazedeye, likeaherringonice,andthreeyoungsoldierswhohadalreadystartedtheireveningspreejudgingbytheirbreath.Butthesmellofvodkamergedwith the sweaty sournessof theworkers a little further forward,whosefactoryhadplainlylodgedtheminabarrackswithoutabathroom,andthefiercerosewater scent the shortwomanhadon, intoone, hot, compositehuman smell,justasallthecornersandpiecesofsleeveandcollarhecouldseefusedintoonetightkaleidoscopeofdarnedhand-me-downs,andwornleather,andtoo-bigkhaki.He was wearing what he thought of as his ‘professor outfit’, the old suit

cobbledtogetherbyhismotherandsisterwhichhadbeensupposedtomakehimlooklikeaplausibleProfessorL.V.Kantorovichwhenhefirststartedteachingattheuniversitysixyearsago,agedtwenty.He’dbeenstandingattheblackboardinthe lecture theatre, taking a deep breath, chalk in hand, about to launch into thebasics of set theory, when a helpful voice from the front row said, ‘I’d stopmessing about if Iwas you. They take things seriously here.You’ll only get introublewhen theprofessor arrives.’He’dhad to learn tobe sharp, tomakehispresencefelt.Evennow,when theworldwasfillingupwithsurprisinglyyoungscientistsandarmyofficersandplantmanagers– theolderoneshavingtakentodisappearingbynight,leavingsilencebehindthem,andgapsineveryhierarchytobepluggedbyanxioustwentysomethingsworkingallhourstolearntheirnewjobs

–evennow,pinchedandtiredashewas,dull-skinnedlikeeveryoneelseonthetram,hestillhadtheoccasionaldifficultywithsomeonemisledbyhisbigadam’sapple,andhisbigeyes,andhissticking-outears.Thiswastheproblemwithbeingwhatpeople called aprodigy.Youalwayshad tobe saying somethingordoingsomething to persuade people that youweren’t what they thought they saw.Hecouldn’trememberiteverbeinganydifferent,thoughhepresumedthatbeforehelearned to talk, and thenalmost immediately tocount, and todoalgebra, and toplay chess, there’d been a milky time when he was only Dr and MrsKantorovich’s ordinary baby. But at seven, when he worked out from his bigbrother’sradiologytextbookthatyououghttobeabletotellhowoldarockwasfromtheamountofundecayedcarboninit,he’dhadtogetpastNikolai’sindulgentmedical-student smilebeforehewouldpay attention, and start talking about theideaseriously,thewayheneeded.‘Youmusthavereadthissomewhere.Youmusthavedone.Or been talking to someone…’At fourteen, he had to persuade theotherstudentsatthePhysico-MathematicalInstitutethathewasn’tjustanannoyingshrimpwho’dwandered inbymistake; thathebelonged in their company,eventhoughhewasaheadshorter thananyof them,andhad tobounceashewalkedalong the corridor with them to keep his face in the general domain of theconversation.Ateighteen,presentingoriginalworkattheAll-UnionMathematicalCongress, he measured his success by his ability to get the yellow-fingered,chainsmokinggeniusestostopbeingkind.Whentheygaveupbeingencouraging,whentheymadetheirfirstsarcasticremark,whentheystartedtosneerandtotrytoshredhistheorems,heknewtheyhadceasedseeingakidandstartedtoseeamathematician.Automatically,LeonidVitalevichgrippedhiswallettightinhistrouserpocket,

againstpickpockets.Gangsworkedthetrams,andyoucouldn’ttellwhichofthesefaces,thesepolitefaces,aggressivefaces,drunkenfaces,wasreallyapokerface,afrontforahanddownbelowextractingsurplusvalue.Hecouldn’tseeanythingbeneathchest level,soitwasbest tobecareful;couldn’tseehisfeet, thoughhecouldcertainlyfeel them,nowthat thefuggywarmthof the tramhadthawedthecrustovertheannoyingholethat’dappearedtodayonthesoleofhisleftshoe.Hehada smallwadofnewspaper in there, and itwas turning soggy.Thiswas thethirdtimethiswintertheshoeshadsprungaleak.HewouldhavetogobacktotheretiredcobblerDenisovthisSunday,takehimanotherpresent,listentomoreself-contradictory reminiscences about the old man’s adventures with women. Ofcourse itwouldbemuchbetter toget anewpairof shoesaltogether,ormaybeboots.Whocouldheask?Whowouldknowsomebodywhoknewsomebody?Hewould have to think about it. He gazed through the sliver of window visiblebetween heads, and fragments of city slid by: a patrol car parked on a corner,

grandfacadesstreakedwithdamagefromleakinggutters,redneonflashingFIVE– IN – FOUR, FIVE – IN – FOUR, thewordmore on the bottom corner of aposter,whichheknewatoncewouldread in fullLifehasbecomebetter,morecheerful! Those posterswere all over the place. The slogan advertised SovietChampagne. Or the existence of Soviet Champagne advertised the slogan, hewasn’t sure which. But now he was looking without seeing. His thoughts haddivedintohissatchel,clutchedtightwithhisotherhand.Halfwaydownalefthandpage inhis notebook, theblue ink scribbleof equationsbrokeoff, andnowhismindwasracingonfromthatpoint,seeingapossiblenextmove,seeingthethreadofanideaelongate.Today,somethinghadhappened.He had been doing a bit of consultancy. It went with being attached to the

InstituteofIndustrialConstruction;youhadtosingforyoursuppereverysooften.Andhedidn’treallymind.Itwasapleasuretoputthelucidorderinhisheadtouse.Morethanapleasure,areliefalmost,becauseeverytimethepurepatternofmathematics turnedout tohaveapurchaseonthewaytheworldworked, turnedout to provide the secret thread controlling something loud and various andapparently arbitrary, it provided one more quantum of confirmation for whatLeonidVitalevichwantedtobelieve,neededtobelieve,didbelievewhenhewashappy:thatallofthis,thisswirlofphenomenalurchingonthroughtime,thismessofinterlockedsystems,somefiligree-fine,somehugeandsimple,thistramfullofstrangers and smoky air, this city of Peter built on human bones, all ultimatelymadesense,wereallintricatelygeneratedbysomeintelligibleprincipleorsetofprinciplesworkingthemselvesoutonmanylevelsatonce,eveniftheexpressionsdidn’texistyetwhichcouldcapturemuchoftheprocess.No,hedidn’tmind.Besides, therewasaduty involved.Ifhecouldsolvethe

problemspeoplebroughttotheinstitute,itmadetheworldafractionbetter.Theworldwasliftingitselfupoutofdarknessandbeginningtoshine,andmathematicswas how he could help. It was his contribution. It was what he could give,accordingtohisabilities.Hewasluckyenoughtoliveintheonlycountryontheplanetwhere human beings had seized the power to shape events according toreason, insteadof letting thingshappenas theyhappenedtohappen,orallowingtheoldforcesofsuperstitionandgreedtopushpeoplearound.Here,andnowhereelse, reasonwas in charge.Hemighthavebeenborn inGermany, and then thistramridetonightwouldhavebeenfulloffear.Onhisprofessorsuitwouldhavebeenacottonstar,anddarkthingswouldhavelookedoutofpeople’sfacesathim,just because his grandfather had worn earlocks, had subscribed to a slightlydifferentunverifiablefairytaleabouttheworld.Hewouldhavebeenhatedthere,fornoreasonatall.OrhemighthavebeenborninAmerica,andthenwhocouldsay if he would even have had the two kopecks for the tram at all?Would a

twenty-six-year-oldJewbeaprofessorthere?Hemightbeabeggar,hemightbeplayingaviolinonthestreetintherain,thethoughtsinhisheadofnoconcerntoanyone because nobody couldmakemoney out of them.Cruelty,waste, fictionsallowedtobuffetrealmenandwomentoandfro:onlyherehadpeopleescapedthis black nonsense, and made themselves reality’s deliberate designers ratherthanitsplaythings.True,reasonwasadifficulttool.Youlabouredwithittoseealittle more, and at best you got glimpses, partial truths; but the glimpses werealways worth having. True, the new consciously-chosen world still had roughedgesandveryobvious imperfections,but those thingswouldchange.Thiswasonlythebeginning,thedayafterreason’sreignbegan.Anyway. Today he had had a request from the Plywood Trust of Leningrad.

‘Would the comrade professor, etc. etc., grateful for any insight, etc. etc.,assuranceofcordialgreetings,etc.etc.’Itwasawork-assignmentproblem.ThePlywood Trust produced umpteen different types of plywood using umpteendifferentmachines,andtheywantedtoknowhowtodirecttheirlimitedstockofrawmaterialstothedifferentmachinessoastogetthebestuseoutofit.LeonidVitalevichhadneverbeentotheplywoodfactory,buthecouldpictureit.Itwouldbelikealltheotherenterpriseswhichhadsprunguparoundthecityoverthelastfewyears,multiplying likemushroomsafter rain,puttingchimneysat theendofstreets,fillingtheairwithsmutsandtheriverwitheddiesofchemicaldye.Alltheinvestmentthathadn’tgoneintonewclothesandeverydaycomfortshadgoneintothefactories:theywerewhatthetiredpeopleonthetramhadgotinstead.Attheplywood factory, he supposed, there would be a raw brick barn, cold enoughinside at this time of year to turn the workers’ breaths to puffs of steam. Heguessed that the machinery would be the usual wild mixture. Aged pre-revolutionary presses and stampers would be running alongside homegrownproductsof theSovietmachine-tool industry,withhereandthereasilkyimport,efficientbuthardtomaintain.Together,undertheexposedgirdersoftheroof,thismismatchedorchestraofdeviceswouldbepouringoutadiscordantsymphonyofhisses, treadlings, clunks and saw-edgedwhines. Themanagementwanted helptuning the orchestra up. To be honest, he couldn’t quite seewhat themachineswere doing. He had only a vague idea of how plywood was actuallymanufactured. It somehow involved glue and sawdust, that was all he knew. Itdidn’tmatter:forhispurposes,heonlyneededtothinkofthemachinesasabstractpropositions,eachoneeffectivelyanequationinsolidform,andimmediatelyheread the letter he understood that the Plywood Trust, in its mathematicalinnocence, had sent him a classic example of a system of equations that wasimpossible to solve. There was a reason why factories around the world,capitalistorsocialist,didn’thaveahandyformulaforthesesituations.Itwasn’t

just an oversight, something people hadn’t got around to yet. The quickway todealwith the Plywood Trust’s enquirywould have been towrite a polite noteexplainingthatthemanagementhadjustrequestedthemathematicalequivalentofaflyingcarpetoragenieinabottle.Buthehadn’twrittenthatnote.Instead,casuallyatfirst,andthenwithsudden

excitement,withthecertaintythatthehardlightofgenesiswasshininginhishead,brief,inexplicable,nottoberesistedorquestionedwhileitlasted,hehadstartedto think. He had thought aboutways to distinguish between better answers andworse answers to questionswhich had no right answer.He had seen amethodwhich could do what the detective work of conventional algebra could not, insituationsliketheonethePlywoodTrustdescribed,andwouldtrickimpossibilityinto disclosing useful knowledge. The method depended on measuring eachmachine’soutputofoneplywoodintermsofalltheotherplywoodsitcouldhavemade.Butagain,hehadnosenseofplywoodasascratchyconcretestuff.Thathadfadedintonothing,leavingonlythepurepatternofthesituation,ofallsituationsinwhichyouhadtochooseoneactionoveranotheraction.Timepassed.Thegenesislightblinkedoff.Itseemedtobenightoutsidehisofficewindow.Thegreyblurofthe winter daylight had vanished. The family would be worrying about him,startingtowonderifhehadvanishedtoo.Heshouldgohome.Buthegropedforhis pen and began to write, fixing in extended, patient form – as patient as hecouldmanage–what’dcometohimfirstunseparatedintostages,stillfusedintoone intricateunderstanding, as if all itsnecessarycomponentpieceswere facesandanglesofonecomplexpolyhedronhe’dbeenpermittedtogazeat,whilethelightlasted;theamazing,ungentlelight.Hegotdownthebasics,surprisedtofindashedrove theblue inkonwardhow rough and incomplete they seemed to be,speltout,andwhatalotofworkremained.Andnow,onthetram,hewasfollowinghisthoughtintoimplications,intowhat

hewassuspectingmightbeaworldofimplications.Clearly,theworldhadgotbyquite well until now without this idea. In the era before half past two thisafternoon,thepeoplearrangingtheflowofworkinfactorieshadbeenabletodosowithafairdegreeofefficiencybyusingrulesofthumbandeducatedintuition,orelsethemodernagewouldnotbeasindustrialisedasitwas:wouldnothavetramsandneon,wouldnothaveairshipsandautogyros throngingthesky,wouldnothaveskyscrapersinManhattanandthepromiseofmoreinMoscow.Butafairdegreeofefficiencywasveryfarremovedfromamaximumdegreeofefficiency.Ifhewasright–andhewassurehewas,inessentials–thenanyoneapplyingthenewmethodtoanyproductionsituationinthehugefamilyofsituationsresemblingtheoneatthePlywoodTrustshouldbeabletocountonameasurablepercentageimprovement in the quantity of product they got from a given amount of raw

materials. Or you could put that the other way around: they would make ameasurablepercentagesavingontherawmaterials theyneededtomakeagivenamountofproduct.He didn’t know yet what sort of percentage he was talking about, but just

suppose it was 3%. It might not sound like much, only a marginal gain, anabstemious ekingout of a little bitmore from theproductionprocess, at a timewhenallthenewspapersshowedminersrippingintofatmountainsofsolidmetal,andtheoutputofplantsbooming50%,75%,150%.Butitwaspredictable.Youcouldcountontheextra3%yearafteryear.Aboveallitwasfree.Itwouldcomemerely by organising a little differently the tasks peoplewere doing already. Itwas 3% of extra order snatched out of the grasp of entropy. In the face of thepatchedandmendedcosmos,alwayscrumblingofitsownaccord,alwaystryingtofalldown,itbuilt;itgained3%moreofwhathumanitywanted,freeandclear,just asa reward for thought.Moreover,he thought, its applicationsdidnot stopwith individual factories, with getting 3% more plywood, or 3% more gunbarrels, or 3%morewardrobes. If you couldmaximise,minimise, optimise thecollection of machines at the Plywood Trust, why couldn’t you optimise acollectionoffactories,treatingeachofthem,onelevelfurtherup,asanequation?Youcouldtuneafactory,thentuneagroupoffactories,tilltheyhummed,tilltheypurred.Andthatmeant–‘Watchwhatyou’redoing!’criedtheshortwoman.‘Takeyourheadoutofyour

arseandwatchwhatyou’redoing,whydon’tyou?’Thebigmanhadseized thechance, the last time they all shuffled up the tram, to free his hand and light acigarette.Butas ithungat thecornerofhismouth,cardboardholderpinched intwo dimensions to act as a filter, a jolt from the track had knocked the wholeburning load of tobacco out of the paper tube at the end, and it had fallen,smouldering,ontohershoulder.Herarmswerepinned.‘Sorry,sister,’saidBigChin,tryingtoflaptheembersoffheranddown.‘What good is sorry, you big lummox? Get it off me. Oh, look at my coat.

There’saholerightthrough–’– and thatmeant that you could surely apply themethod to the entire Soviet

economy, he thought. He could see that this would not be possible undercapitalism, where all the factories had separate owners, locked in wastefulcompetition with one another. There, nobody was in a position to thinksystematically. The capitalists would not be willing to share information abouttheir operations; what would be in it for them? That was why capitalism wasblind,whyitgropedandblundered.Itwaslikeanorganismwithoutabrain.Buthere itwaspossible toplan for thewhole systemat once.The economywas acleansheetofpaperonwhichreasonwaswriting.Sowhynotoptimiseit?Allhe

wouldhavetodowastopersuadetheappropriateauthoritiestolisten.SupposethattheSovieteconomycouldbemadetogrowbyanextra3%ayear

–anextra3%yearafteryear,compounded.Itwouldmountupfast.Afteronlyadecade,thecountrywouldbehalfasrichagainasitwouldhavebeenotherwise.Quickerthananyoneimaginedyetcouldcomethegoldenagewhosepromisewasimplicit in the rhythm of every production line, but which had still to free theworld from scarcity; the golden age the Party promised, but said it could notdelivertilltheheavyworkofconstructionwasdone,exceptinthesymbolicformof Soviet Champagne. Seen from that future time, when every commodity thehumanmindcouldimaginewouldflowfromtheindustrialhornofplentyindizzyabundance, thiswould seem a scanty, shoddy, crampedmoment indeed, chokedwithshadows,redeemedonlybywhatitcausedtobecreated.Seenfromplenty,nowwouldbehardtoimagine.Itwouldseemnotquitereal,anabsurdtimewhen,fornoapparentreason,humanbeingswentwithoutthingseasilywithinthepowerofhumanitytosupply,andlivesdidnotflowerasitwasobvioustheycould.Nowwouldlooklikeonlyafaint,dirty,unconvincingeditionoftherealworld,whichhadnotyetbeenborn.Andhecouldhasten thehour,he thought, intoxicated.Hegazed up the tram, and saw everything and everybody in it touched by thetransformation tocome, rippling intonewandmoregenerous forms, thenumber34 rattlebox to Krestovsky Island becoming a sleek silent ellipse filled withgoldenlight,thewomen’sclothesallturningtoquiltedsilk,themilitaryuniformsmelting into tailored grey and silver: and faces, faces the length of the car,relaxing, losing the worry lines and the hungry looks and all the assortedtoothmarks of necessity. He could help to do that. He could help to make ithappen,threeextrapercentatatime,thoughhealreadyunderstoodthatitwouldtakeahugequantityofworktocomposethenecessarydynamicmodels.Itmightbe a lifetime’s work. But he could do it. He could tune up the whole Sovietorchestra,ifthey’dlethim.Hisleftfootdripped.Hereallymustfindawaytogetnewshoes.

Notes–I.1TheProdigy,1938

1Withoutthinkingaboutit,LeonidVitalevich:LeonidVitalevichKantorovich(1912–86),mathematicianandeconomist,nearestSovietequivalenttoJohnvonNeumann,later(1975)tobetheonlySovietwinnerofthe Nobel Prize for Economics (shared with Tjalling Koopmans). Calling someone by first name andpatronymicexpressesformalesteem,inRussian;heismostlyreferredtothatwayhere,tosuggestthatheisbeingviewedwithrespectfulacquaintancebutnotintimacy.Withfictionalelaboration,thissceneonthetram is true to his history, for which see his Nobel Prize autobiography, in Assar Lindbeck, ed.,NobelLectures,Economics1969–1980(Singapore:WorldScientificPublishingCo.,1992);and thecollectionofhislettersandarticles,withcolleagues’memoirs,inV.L.Kantorovich,S.S.KutateladzeandYa.I.Fet,eds.,LeonidVitalevichKantorovich:ChelovekiUchenii(‘ManandScientist’)(Novosibirsk:SiberianBranchoftheRussianAcademyofSciences,vol.12002,vol.22004);andS.S.Kutateladze,‘ThePathandSpace

of Kantorovich’, talk at the international Kantorovich memorial conference, Euler InternationalMathematicalInstitute,StPetersburg,8–13January2004.

2 Gangs worked the trams: for 1930s crime and 1930s streetcars, see Sheila Fitzpatrick, EverydayStalinism:OrdinaryLifeinExtraordinaryTimes(OUP,Oxford2000),pp.52–3.

3ThesloganadvertisedSovietChampagne:ithadbegunasacommentbyStalin(naturally)toameetingofcombine-harvesterdriverson1December1935–‘Everybodynowsaysthatthematerialsituationofthetoilershasconsiderablyimproved,thatlifehasbecomebetter,morecheerful’–andthenbeenpressedintoservice insongs,speeches,posters,newspaperbannerheadlines.SeeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, p.90andnote;forSovietChampagne,seeJukkaGronow,CaviarwithChampagne:CommonLuxuryandtheIdealsoftheGoodLifeinStalin’sRussia(Oxford:Berg,2003).

4Onhisprofessorsuitwouldhavebeenacottonstar:forJewishexperiencesoftheUSSRinthe1930s,andJewishperceptionsofitasaplaceofphilosemiticenlightenmentandopportunity,seeYuriSlezkine,TheJewishCentury(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,2004).

5 A request from the Plywood Trust of Leningrad: I have imagined the details of the approach toKantorovich, but the origin of his mathematics of optimisation in the Plywood Trust’s commission isabsolutelyauthentic.WhenKantorovichwascelebratinghisseventiethbirthdayin1982,hewaspresentedwithapieceofplywoodonwhichwasinscribed‘Iamasimpleplank,butItooamrejoicing,becauseitallbeganwithme’.Thefirstpublicationofhismethod,provinghispriorityasdiscoverer,wasinasixty-eight-page pamphlet of 1939, Matematicheskie metody organizatsii i planirovaniya proizvodstva(‘Mathematicalmethodsofproductionmanagementandplanning’),andhisuniversityalsoorganisedasmallconference;butverylittlenoticewastakenofficially,whichwasprobablythesafestoutcomeforhim,anditisnotevenclearwhetherthePlywoodTrustusedwhathehadpresentedtothem:quitepossiblynot.Themethod was then independently reinvented in the United States by Tjalling Koopmans and by GeorgeDanzig,whowhileworkingontransportandallocationproblemsfortheUSAirforceduringthewarcoinedthe phrase ‘linear programming’. Koopmans’ formulation had one difference from Kantorovich’s: itassumed that anymaximised selection of outputswould count as efficient,whereas forKantorovich theselectionwasagiven.Itcamefromtheplanners,andtherewasonlyoneofit tomaximise.SeeMichaelEllman, Planning Problems in the USSR: The Contribution of Mathematical Economics to TheirSolution1960–1971(Cambridge:CUP,1973).

6Hehadseenamethodwhichcoulddowhatthedetectiveworkofconventionalalgebracouldnot:thePlywoodTrusthadineffectpresentedhimwithagroupofequationstosolveoftheform3a+2b+4c+6d=17,wheretheunknownvariablesa,b,c,dstoodfor theunknownassignmentsofworkbetweendifferentmachines–onlywithmany,manymorevariablesthanjustthesefour.Theseareknownas‘linear’equations,because ifgraphed theyproducestraight lines,and it isapropertyof linearequations thatyoucanonlysolvethemifyouhaveasmanyequationstoworkwithastherearevariables.Otherwise,theyare‘undetermined’– therearean infinitenumberofpossiblesolutions,andnoway todecidebetween them.The Plywood Trust’s equations were undetermined, since there were fewer of them than the immensenumberofvariablestheywantedtoknow.Kantorovich’sfirststepwastorealisethathehadacriterionforchoosingbetweentheinfinitesolutions,intheknowledgethata+b+c+d,thetotalamountofworkdonebythemachines,was tobeminimised for theproductionof the targetoutputofplywood in thePlywoodTrust’splan.Oryoucouldturntheproblemaround,andseeyourselfasmaximisingtheoutputtarget.Foratextbook explanation of linear programming, adapted to American business-school students, see Saul I.Gass,LinearProgramming:MethodsandApplications(NewYork:McGraw-Hill,4thedn,1975).

7SkyscrapersinManhattan,andthepromiseofmoreinMoscow:forthepromiseoftheStalinistfuture,seeLevKopelev,TheEducationofaTrueBeliever(NewYork,1980),quotedinFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, p. 18; for specifically architectural visions of the future, see thewebsiteUnrealisedMoscow,www.muar.ru/ve/2003/moscow/index_e.htm,agatheringof thekindof imageswhosehypnagogicpower,takencollectively,ishorriblywellrealisedinJackWomack,Let’sPuttheFutureBehindUs (NewYork:AtlanticMonthlyPress,1996).

8Anextra3%yearafteryear,compounded:inaneconomythatconsumedallthegoodsitproduced,the3%ofextraoutputKantorovichanticipatesherewouldonlyhavecontributedasimpleboosttoproduction,notacompoundingadditiontothegrowthrate.Butinaneconomythatpartiallyre-investeditsproductive

outputinfurtherproductivecapacity,the3%extragrowthwouldindeedhavecompounded–andtheSovieteconomy of the 1930s was exceptional in the degree to which it reinvested, rather than consuming, itsproduction.

MrChairman,1959Suchalongjourney.Itwashardtosleepinthecuttingroaroftheturboprops,hardtosleeptoowithaheadfulofanticipationsandanxieties,buthedozedintheend,the noise following him somehow into the kingdomon the far side of oblivion,still pulsingandbeating inhis ears ashehurried from room to roomof ahalf-finishedpalace,constructed(hewasgladtosee)usingthelarge-panelmethodhehad recommended in his speech on architecture; andwhen hewoke, the brightlightofamorninghighabovetheAtlanticwaspouringinthroughthewindowofthe airliner,makinghis eyeballs ache.Heblinked, and tuggedat hiswaistband.The vinyl seat had grown sticky.Around him, the entourage stirred into life aswell,shifting toattentionwhentheynoticed thathiseyeswereopen.Buthedidnotneedanything.Thepreparationswerealldone.NinaPetrovna,besidehim,didnotmove,yetheknewthatifheturnedhisheadhewouldfindherreadytohearwhateverwasonhismind,asshehadbeengravelyreadytheirentiremarriedlife,knowing the importance of his work: at every midnight, at every dawn, in themiddle of any family situation. He bent towards the window, and flattened hischeek against the cold glass to get a downward view. A few whitecaps wereshrugginginandoutofexistenceonawidegreysea.Alittleblackdotwastossingamongthem,andanotherwasvisibleinthedistanceupahead,alongthelineoftheplane’s flight: the trawlers, he supposed, strung out across the sea by securitywhenhetoldthemhedidn’twantthenavydeployed.‘Howmuchlonger?’heasked.

‘StillaboutanhourtotheCanadiancoast,NikitaSergeyevich,andthentwomoreafterthattoWashington,’saidyoungTroyanovskytheinterpreter,eagerly.Hewasagoodboy, almostAmerican-lookinghimself inhisbuttoned-down shirt collar,andyou could tell hewanted thework to start, so he could showwhat hewasmade of. Thatwas a good attitude, he thought.Notmuch different fromme, hethought.Herubbedhiseyesandgazeduptheplane.Theenginessangoutthesameobliteratingmusic.Along the aisle the lads from theTupolev bureauwere stillintently listening to it through theirheadphones,crouchedoveranelectricalboxthathadbeenexplainedtohimasakindofstethoscopeforaeroplanes.Theydidnotseemtobeworriedbywhattheywerehearinginthetwiningstreamsofnoise.Butthenhedidnotreallyseewhattheywouldbeabletodoiftheremotechancetheywereguardingagainstcametrue,iftheplanedidsuddenlycrackattheseamsinmid-air.Theskywouldbefulloffallinggeneralsanddiplomats,andhiminthe

midstofthem,plummetingtothewavesinhissummersuit,likealead-weightedEasteregg.‘We’resureoftheTU-114,assureaswecanbe,’Tupolevhimselfhadtoldhim.‘It’sjustthatit’sanewdesign,we’restillshakingitdown,andwe’vehadsomereadingsfromtheairframeweweren’texpecting.That’swhyI’dliketosendmy son along,withyourpermission, tokeep an eyeon things.’ ‘That isn’tnecessary,’ he’d replied. ‘Peoplewill thinkhe’s some sort of hostage!’ ‘Oh,noquestion of that, Nikita Sergeyevich. I just want to show you that we haveconfidence in the plane.’ The plane was bigger than any passenger jet theAmericans had. The plane was irresistible. And so Tupolev junior had comealongfortheride–andtherehewaswiththeothertechniciansnow,feelingthedrowsy gaze resting on him; and looking up; and clearly not knowing whatexpressionheshouldhoisthastilyontohisface.Hedidn’tblamehim.Whatwastherightdemeanourforsomeonewhowasnot-a-hostage?Especiallysince,totellthetruth,theboywouldhavebeenahostageinthissituation,oratleastasurety,justafewyearsago.Hefrowned.Tupolev’ssoninstantlydroppedhiseyes.Suchalongjourney.Suchalongwaytravelled,hethought,sincehehadbeena

quick kid himself, the kid on the coalfield with the home-mademotorbike andthreegoldroublesinhispocketonaFriday,andthefluffywhiteduckdownhair.(Thathadn’tlastedlong.)Suchalongjourneytothispointintimeforthewholecountry;andnoneofiteasy,noneofitachievedwithoutcost.Noonegaveusthisbeautiful plane. We built it ourselves, we pulled it out of nothing by ourdeterminationandourstrength.Theytriedtocrushusoverandoveragain,butwewouldn’tbecrushed.WedroveofftheWhites.Wewinkledoutthepriests,outofthe churches and more important out of people’s minds. We got rid of theshopkeepers, thieving bastards, getting their dirty fingers in every deal,makingevery straight thing crooked.Wedragged the farmers into the twentieth century,and thatwashard, thatwas a cruel business and therewere somehungryyearsthere, but it had tobedone,wehad toget themuckoff our boots.We realisedthereweresaboteursandenemiesamongus,andwecaughtthem,butitdroveusmad for a while, and for a while we were seeing enemies and saboteurseverywhere,andhurtingpeoplewhowerebrothers,sisters,goodfriends,honestcomrades. Then the Fascists came, and stamping on them was bloody, nobodycouldcallwhatwedidthensweetnessandlight,wreckageeverywhere,butwhatareyougoingtodowhenagangofmurderersbreaksintothehouse?AndtheBossdidn’thelpmuch.Wonderfulclearmind,butbythattimehewasfranklyscrewy,movingwholenationsroundthemaplikechesspieces,makingussitupallnightwith him and drink that filthy vodka till we couldn’t see straight, and alwayswatchingus:no,Idon’tdenywewentwrong,infactifyourecallitwasmethatsaid so. But all the while we were building. All the while we were building

factories andmines, railroads and roads, towns and cities, and allwithout anyhelp,allwithoutgetting thesay-sofromanymillionaireorbigshot.Wedid that.Wetaughtpeopletoread,wetaughtthemtoloveculture.Wesenttensofmillionsof them to school and millions of them to college, so they could have theadvantagesweneverhad.Wecreated theboysandgirlswho’reyoungnow.Wedidthedirtyworksotheycouldinheritacleanworld.Andnowwasthetimewhenitallpaidoff,hethought.Thewarswereover,the

enemies were gone, the mistakes were rectified. Forty-two years since therevolution, and at last the pattern of the new society was established. All theyoungpeoplehadknownnootherwayofliving.Theyhadneverseenarichmangoingpastinhiscarriage;theyhadneverseenaprivateshop.Andsoatlastitwasbecomingpossibletomakegoodonallthepromiseswhichthey’dfedtopeopleduringthehungryyears.Allwellandgood,hethought,becausewereallymeantthem,weweren’ttryingtohoodwinkanyone,butthere’salimittohowlongyoucankeepgoingonthatkindofdiet.Youcan’tmakesoupoutofpromises.Somecomradesseemedtothinkthatfinewordsandfineideaswerealltheworldwouldever require, that pure enthusiasmwould carry humanity forward to happiness:wellexcuseme,comrades,butaren’twesupposedtobematerialists?Aren’twesupposedtobetheoneswhogetalongwithoutfairytales?Ifcommunismcouldn’tgivepeopleabetter life thancapitalism,hepersonallycouldn’tseethepoint.Abetter life, inastraightforward,practicalway:betterfood,betterclothes,betterhouses, better cars, better planes (like this one), better football games towatchand cards to play and beaches to sit on, in the summertime, with the childrensplashingaboutinthesurfandanicebottleofsomethingcoldtosip.Moremoneytospend–orelsemoreofaworld inwhichmoneywasnolongernecessary torationoutthegoodthings,becausethereweresomanygoodthings,allgushingoutofthewhatchamacallit,thethinglikeaconespillingoverwithfruit.Thehornofplenty. Fortunately, the hard part of the taskwas nearly done. They had almostcompletedtheheavylifting,theyhadheavedandshovedand(yes)drivenpeopleonwithkicksandcurses,andtheyhadbuiltthebasisforthegoodlife,theirveryownhornofplentypouringforththenecessarysteelandcoalandelectricity.Theyhaddone thebig stuff.All that remainedwas toget the small stuff right. Itwastimetousewhattheyhadbuilttomakelifeapleasureinsteadofastruggle.Theycoulddo it. If they couldproduce amillion tons of steel, they couldproduce amillion tons of anything.They just had to concentrate on directing their horn ofplentysothat,aswellasspittingoutgirders,itnowalsooverflowedwithmusicalboxes.Nowthesacrificesended.Nowcametheageofcreamanddumplings:theolddreamofafeastthatneverhadtoend,buttrulydelivered,deliveredinsoberdaylight,byscience.

Ithadalreadybeguntohappen, inhisopinion.Ifyoulookedatpeopleonthestreet,alltheoldclotheshadvanished,inthelastfewyears.Nomorepatches,nomore darns. Everyone was wearing fine new outfits. The children had wintercoatsnoonehadwornbeforethem.Peoplehadwristwatchesontheirarms,likehisowngoodsteelwatch from theKuibyshevplant.Theyweremoving in theirdrovesoutofthehorribleoldcommunalflats,wherefourfamiliessharedatoiletand there were knife-fights over who used the stove, into pristine concreteapartmentbuildings.Ofcourse,therewasstillalongwaytogo.Nooneknewthatbetter thanhim.He saw the figures theeconomistsprepared.ARussianworkerstillonlyearnedaround25%oftheaverageAmericanincome,evenifyouthrewinthemostgenerousallowanceforallthethingsthatcostmoneyinAmericaandcamefreeintheSovietUnion.Buthesawtheotherfigurestoo,theonesshowingthatyearafteryearthislastdecadetheSovieteconomyhadgrownat6%,7%,8%everyyear,whiletheAmericanoneonlygrew3%orsoatbest.Hewasnotamanwhowas naturally excited by graphs, but hewas excited by this one,when heunderstoodthatif theSovietUnionjustkeptgrowingatthesamerate,propelledonward by the greater natural efficiency of central planning, the line of Sovietprosperity on the graph was due to cross the line representing Americanprosperity,andthentosoaraboveit,injustundertwentyyearsfromnow.Hehadseenvictoryonasheetofcardboard.Itwasproven.Itwasgoingtohappen.Andthis was the reason, deep down, why he had accepted President Eisenhower’sinvitation,whensomemighthaveaskedwhethertheywerereadyforthetestthatwaswaitingfortheminAmerica:notjustthetestofnegotiatingwiththerichest,strongestcapitaliststateontheplanet,butthedeepertest,thetestofcomparison.WeretheyreadytomeasureuptheSovietwayagainst theAmericanway?Werethey ready to let the people see a little bit of the scale of the task that still layahead? In his opinion, if you believed that the good timeswere coming, if youtrusted that graph, it was necessary now to behave like it. It was necessary tomakeanactoffaith.Thepeoplehadearnedtherighttoabitoftrust.HehadsaidyestotheAmericanexhibitioninSokolnikiPark,thisyear,becausehetrustedtheSovietcitizenswhoweregoingtovisitit.LetthemseethebesttheAmericanscando.Letthemseewhatthey’recompetingwith.Letthemseewhatthey’regoingtogetthemselves,innottoolong,andmorebesides.Letthedogseetherabbit.Letthem feel a bit hungry for the future.Maybe they’d pick up some ideas. ItwasalwaysgoodtolearnfromtheAmericans.So,yes,hebelievedtheywereready.Overtakeandsurpass,theBossusedto

say,againandagain.Overtakeandsurpass.Thestrategywasstillthesame.Thedifference was that now it was more than a goal. Now it was happening.Accordingly,hehadadealhewasgoing tooffer theAmericans.He thought the

Americanswould take it.He didn’t seewhy theywouldn’t. The dealwas this.Sincethegreatquarrelbetweencapitalismandsocialismwasreallyaneconomicone,whynotconductitthatway,insteadofasawar?Whynothandleitasaraceto seewhocoulddo thebest jobat supplying theordinary fellowon thebeachwithhiscolddrink?Thetwosidescouldco-existwhiletheycompeted.Everyonecouldstepback from theguns (and thegeneralswouldn’teatupsomuchof thestate budget, which would be handy). History could move forward peacefully.Naturally,thecapitalistsbelievedtheirsystemwasthebest.Naturally–herewasthe beauty of it – theywould expect towin the contest. Sowhywouldn’t theyagree?Allthecapitalistshadtodowastosettledownandacceptthattheworldwasdividednow, into twohalves,oneofwhichwasnot theirsanymore.TheyjusthadtogetusedtotheideathatPolandandChinaandHungaryandtheresthadchoseninfavourofadifferentwayoflife,andweren’tcomingback.Sometimesthe Americans seemed to take the point; sometimes, mysteriously, they didn’t.TakeNixon’svisit toMoscowtwomonthsbackwhentheexhibitionopened,forexample.‘Let’scompeteonthemeritsofourwashingmachines,notthestrengthofour rockets,’ he’d said – theVice President of theUnited States, Eisenhower’sownright-handman!Perfect!Yetthatverysameweek,whentherighthandoftheUnitedStateswasheldoutinfriendship,thelefthandwasmakinggestureswhich,forgiveme,youcouldn’tdescribe inpolitecompany.Thatverysame instant theUnitedStatesCongressdeclareda‘CaptiveNationsWeek’,andstartedcallingtheSovietUnionatyrannyanditsalliesslaves.Well,thatkindofinsultwouldhavetostop,iftheAmericanswantedpeace.HewascomingtoAmericatoofferpeace,butitwasuptotheAmericanswhethertheyacceptedit.Itwasuptothemiftheylifted their trade embargo.Theyweremaking amistake if they expectedhim tobendtheknee.Hewasnotgoingtobeg;no,nevertobeg.Ofcourse,theBosswouldhavehatedthewholeideaofthistrip.TheBosshad

letthemallknowhethoughthewastheonlyonetoughenough,cleverenough,togo up against the owners of the world. ‘Without me, the capitalists will makemincemeatofyou,’he’dsaid. ‘Withoutme, they’lldrownyou likekittens.’ ‘Oh,NikitaSergeyevich,’he’dsaid.‘Youtryyourbest,butisyourbestgoodenough?’He remembered the time the Boss had reached out his stumpy nicotine-stainedfinger in ameeting, in front of all the others, and tapped him three times hardbetween theeyes, likeawoodpecker irritablysoundinga tree.And the time theBosshademptiedthecoalsfromhispipeonthetopofhisbaldhead,stinginghot;hotter still than that, the flush of his shame remembering it, remembering that,whenithappened,hehadbelievedtheBosshadtherighttodoit,andhadadmiredhimnoless.You’reover,youbastard,hetoldtherememberedsmile.Goodbye.‘MrChairman?’

‘What?Arewenearlythere?’‘Verynearly, sir,we’reon the approach,but it seems there’s a complication.

Youknowthatthey’reroutingusintotheirmilitaryfieldatWashingtonbecausetherunwayisn’tlongenoughattheairport.Well,itseemsthatnowtheydon’thaveasetofsteps tallenough to reachourdoors,and they’re tellingusover the radiothatyoumayhavetoclimbdownaladder.Wehaven’trepliedyet.’‘Whatisthis,apiss-take?Aretheytryingtomakeuslookstupidthesecondwe

arrive?’‘Wedon’tthinkso,sir.ApparentlytheTupolevjuststandsfurtherofftheground

thanthestandardAmericanplanedoes.It’sagenuinesizeproblem.’‘Oh,Isee.OhIsee,’hesaidininstantgoodhumour.‘Well,youtellthemfrom

meitisn’tthesize,it’swhatyoudowithit.No,no,seriously:tellthemthatiftheycan’tkeepupwithSoviettechnologywe’rehappytoscrambleintoAmericadowntheir ladder.Makeitdiplomaticbut,youknow,let themknow.Don’twincelikethat,Gromyko,Icanseeyou.I’llbeasdiplomaticasyourheartdesires.I’llpointmy little finger if they bring out the best china. Right, everybody.Where’s thatcopyoftheflagfromthemoonprobe?IwantithandytogiveEisenhower.Areweallready?’

*

Americawasahotgreenfieldglitteringwiththegoldofbraidandthesilverofmusical instruments,where he stood ramrod-straight next to the President, eyesprickling,whileacapitalistbandplayedtheSovietanthem.Americawasafleetoflowblackcars,purringdownwideavenuesbetweenlinesofspectators,someclappingandsmiling, somenot.Americawasa longbanquet tableat theWhiteHouse, covered in more kinds of spoon than you’d see in a spoon museum,surrroundedby facesall turnedpolitely towardshim,and towardsTroyanovskyhisfaithfulecho,allattentivelystraining,asiftheywerestrugglingtohearavoicefromaverylongwayoff,orasoundtoohighinpitchfortheirears.‘Forthetimebeingyouarericherthanus,’hesaid.‘Buttomorrowwewillbeasrichasyou.The day after?Even richer!Butwhat’swrongwith that?’The listeners did notseemascharmedashehadexpectedbythisfrank,capitalist-stylesentiment.Somemusiciansinthecornerplayedasongnamed‘Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah’.Noonecouldexplain the words. America was a ride in the President’s helicopter, out overWashington.Milesandmilesofhouseswentby,likedachasbuteachstandingonaseparategreensquareinagridofgreensquares.Allofthepaintandthetilesonthehousesseemedneatandnew:theygleamedintheSeptembersunasiftheyhadallthisminutebeentakenoutoftheirwrappingpaper.‘Decent,fine,comfortable

homes,’saidEisenhower.Thenthehelicopterswoopeddownlowoverahighwayand hung there inmid-air just above a jostling flood of cars all trying to drivealong at the same time, and pushing at each other nose to tail, and giving off achokingvapour.‘It’stherush-hour!’bellowedthePresident.‘Hesaystheyareallgoingtowork,’Troyanovskytranslated.Someofthecarshadopentops,andyoucouldseethedriversinside,allalone,sittingonplumpbenchesaswideasbeds.Oneofthecarswaspink.Showthedogtherabbit,heremindedhimself.Showthedogtherabbit.

*

AmericawasatraintoNewYork,speciallyreservedfortheSovietparty.HehadreadaboutNewYorkinIlfandPetrov’sfamoustravelbookOne-StoreyAmerica,andhewaslookingforwardtoseeingwhetherithadchangedsincethetwoSoviethumoristshadvisitedit,justbeforetheGreatPatrioticWar.Asthetrainrumbledalong throughastrangealternationofcityandwilderness,hisaides laidout thetextsfor today’sspeecheson the table infrontofhim,and theywentover them,makingalterations,addingnewremarks;also,theyhadclippingsfromAmericannewspapersdescribingyesterday’sevents,bothconstructive in toneandatothertimesobviouslyprovocative,designedtoinjurehimintheeyesoftheAmericanpublic. The photographers seemed to specialise in catching people off guard,snappingthemwiththeirmouthsopenoranundignifiedexpressionontheirfaces.Nina Petrovna saw a photograph she found very unflattering, it so exaggeratedhow fat shewas. ‘If I’dknown therewouldbepictures like these,’ she said, ‘Iwouldn’thavecome.’ ‘Excuseme,’saidoneof theaides, ‘Idon’tbelieve that’syou.’Theyinspectedthephoto.Itwasn’t.‘Oh,’shesaid.Eisenhower had sent along as his representative a man named Henry Cabot

Lodge,theAmericanAmbassadortotheUnitedNations.Hewouldbewiththemon theentire trip. ‘Wereyou in thewar,MrLodge?’heasked. ‘Yessir, Iwas.’‘MayIaskyourrank?’‘Iwasaone-stargeneral,sir–whatIguessyouwouldcalla“lieutenantgeneral”inyourarmy.’‘Aha!Iwasinthewartoo,andIwasamajorgeneral.Therefore Ioutrankyou,’he joked, ‘andyoushouldfollowmyorders!’TheAmericansmiledandsaluted.‘LieutenantGeneralLodge,reportingforduty,’hesaid.Lodgewasaknownanti-communistandideologue,butitwasimportanttohavegoodrelationswithhim.The train passed through Baltimore, Philadelphia and Jersey City, America

turningitsbackviewtohimasthecarriagesslidathwartstreetsandbehindrowsof red-brick buildings. He gazed and speculated. It was like looking at a manfacingawayfromyou,andtryingtoguesswhatwasinhispockets.Hesawrusted

fire-escapesclampedto thebackofbuildingsandbundlesofelectricalwires infatfestoonsloopingfromwall towall.Hesawoilstoragetanks,hesawrubbertyres burning on a wasteland in a black smeech of smoke, he saw billboardsadvertisingtrinketsandcigarettes.TheAmericansseemedkeenonneonsigns,notjust for important or official purposes, but everywhere they could be fitted in,violetandgreenandred, inhummingsputteringanarchy.Troyanovskytranslatedsomeforhim:MOTEL,CRAZYGOLF,JACK’SVALUEAUTO.Sometimes theviewturneddisconcertingly toblankvirginforest,as ifAmericahad tendrilsofSiberia reaching right up into its metropolises. Sometimes there were toylandscapeswhereall thetreesweremanicuredandthegrasswassmoothedtoastripedvelvet,emeraldandcream.Here,explainedMrLodge,Americansoftheprivileged class met to play golf of the un-crazy variety. But on the whole anamazing amount of the space along the railroad line was taken up by thegeometrical dachas arranged amid greenery. TheAmericans seemed towant totaketheorderofthecityintothecountrywiththem:havingdreamedoftheforest,theywoke,andtidilyorganisedtheirdream.Everywhere,thefamouswideroadsran,notquiteascrowdedas theWashingtonBeltway,but stillbusyeverywherewithtraffic.Thetraincrossedabridge:therewasa‘gasstation’,andaroundthecarwaitingatthepumpsyoungmeninred-and-whitecapsreallywerescurryingtochecktheengineandwipethewindows,justasIlfandPetrovhaddescribed.Then theview thickenedandgrew industrial again, andon thehorizonahead

arose the legendary skyline of Manhattan. The train dived into a long tunnel,slowed,andwithoutemergingagainintodaylightdrewtoastopataplatformasthickwithdignitariesandpolicemenasafieldofstandingwheat.ThiswasNewYork, then.HeknewfromreadingIlfandPetrov that thecitywasnot typicalofAmerica,thattherestofthecountrywasmorelikely,asthey’dsaid,tosprawloutonestoreyhighrather thantotowerupfiftystoreys.Butherehewas,wheretheskywasscraped;intheenemy’sheadquarters,inthenerve-centreofcapital,intheplacewhereallitssplendourandmiserywereconcentratedtotheirveryhighestdegree. Looking for splendour, looking for misery, he walked through thePennyslvaniaStationwithLodge,theentourage,theSovietpresscorps,aphalanxof American journalists and theMayor of New York. The station was nothingspecial,hewasglad tosee;hehadhimselfbuiltbetter, farbetter,whenhewasrunning the constructionof theMoscowmetro.But the canyonsbetween towersthroughwhichthemotorcaderolledwereamazing,trulyamazing,andheglancedaroundwithdeterminednonchalancesoasnot tocranehisheadlikeabumpkin.Again,thestreetswerelinedwithcitizens.Againsomewavedandothersbehavedotherwise. ‘What is that ooo-ooo sound?’ he muttered to Gromyko. ‘It is… anoise of disapproval, Nikita Sergeyevich.’ ‘Really? How rude! Why did they

invitemeiftheydidn’twanttoseeme?’Among the onlookers, on theway to theWaldorfAstoria, he spotted a small

whitecartandamaninawhiteapronworkingatit.‘Whatisthat?’heaskedTroyanovsky.‘Heissellinglunchtothepeople,sir.HeiscookinganAmericandish–’‘I know this! This is a kiosk forhemburgers, isn’t it?You are too young to

remember,probably,butwehad this inMoscowandLeningradbefore thewar.Mikoyanwentonafact-findingmissionaboutfoodtechnology,mainlytoFranceto pick their brains about champagne, but also here, and he brought us backketchup,icecreamandhemburgers.Lookatthis!Gromyko,lookatthis!Itissuchagoodidea.Hetakesaflatcakeofmincedbeef–itisalreadycuttotherightsize–andhefriesitquicklyonthehotplateinfrontofhim.Inafewsecondsitisdone.Heslipsitbetweentworoundpiecesofbread,alsocuttotherightsize,thenheaddsketchupormustard,fromthosebottles,whicharejusttohisright,wherehecaneasilyreachthem.Andthemealiscooked.Withnowaitingaround.It’slikeaproduction line. It’s an efficient,modern, healthywayof feedingpeople.That’swhywelikedit,that’swhywesetitupinsomeoftheparks.Perhapsweshoulddoitagain.Iwonderhowmuchtheyarechargingforahemburger?’‘IcanaskMrLodge.’‘Oh,hewon’tknow!Thisisworker’sfood!’‘I believe, sir, about fifteen cents,’ said Lodge, when the question had been

relayedtohim.‘Atthatpriceitmustbesubsidisedquiteheavily,’offeredGromyko.‘No!’saidtheChairmanintriumph.“Nosubsidy!ThisisAmerica!Don’tyou

seethattheveryfactthatthehemburgerkioskistheremeansthatsomebodyhasworked out how to make a profit by selling the meal at fifteen cents. If thecapitalistwhoownsthekioskcouldn’tmakeaprofitatthatprice,hewouldn’tbedoingit.Thatisthesecretofeverythingweseehere.’‘Not quite everything, surely,’ said Lodge, after the inevitable pause. ‘The

profitmotiveisn’teverything.Wedohavesuchathingaspublicservice.Wedohaveawelfarestate!’‘Oh,pfft,’hesaid,wavingahandinfrontofhisfacelikesomebodygettingrid

ofaninsect.‘Youalmostsoundedasifyouadmiredus,’saidLodge,curiously.Noreply.OfcourseheadmiredtheAmericans.IfyouwenttoEngland,itwasallhand-

made trousers. If you went to France, it was cheese from cows whomunchedaway on one particular hillside. How could you possibly arrange plenty foreveryoneonthatsortofsmall-scale,old-fashionedfooting?Youcouldn’t.

ButtheAmericansgotit.Ofallthecapitalistcountries,itwasAmericathatwasmostnearlytryingtodothesamethingastheSovietUnion.TheysharedtheSovietinsight. They understood that whittling and hand-stitching belonged to the past.They understood that if ordinary people were to live the way the kings andmerchantsofoldhadlived,whatwouldberequiredwasanewkindofluxury,anordinary luxurybuiltup fromgoods turnedoutby themillion so that everybodycouldhaveone.And theyweresogoodat it!Thebulkfertilityof their industrywasonlythestart.Theyhadakindofgeniusforliningupthefruitfulnessofmassproductionwithpeople’sdesires,sothatthefactoriesdelivereddesiretopeopleinlittleeverydaypackages.Theyweremagnificentlygoodatproducingthingsyouwanted–eitherthingsyouknewyouwanted,orthingsyoudiscoveredyouwantedthemoment you knew that they existed. Somehow theirmanagers and designersthoughtaheadofpeople’swants.Takethehemburger:soneat,soeasy.Ithadbeencreated by someonewhohadmade it their seriousmission in life to imagine afoodyoucouldholdinyourfistwhileyourushedthroughthebusycity.Andthiswas not exceptional for America, it was characteristic. If you looked into thewindowsof their shops, if you lookedat the advertisements in theirmagazines,you saw the same practical passion at work everywhere. Coca-Cola bottlesexactly fitted the average person’s hand. Bandages came as a packet of pinkpatcheswithagluejuststrongenoughforthehumanskinalreadyappliedtoeachone.Americawasatorrentofcleveranticipations.Sovietindustrieswouldhavetolearntoanticipateascleverly,morecleverly,iftheyweretoovertakeAmericainsatisfyingwantsaswellasneeds.Theytoowouldhavetobecomeexperts ineverydaydesire.SomecomradeschosetobesnottyaboutAmericanclevernessinthis direction: they called it trivial, they called it the sign of a self-indulgentsociety.Inhisopinion,thiswasjustposturing.Intellectualswiththeirnosesintheairmight not care if they sat on hard stools or comfy chairs, but everyone elsepreferredabitofpaddingundertheirarse.Itwastrue,ontheotherhand,thattherewasnoneedtocompetewithAmericaningenuitywhenitturnedridiculous.IntheAmericankitcheninMoscow,Nixonhadshowedhimagleamingsteeldeviceaselaborately sculpted as an aeroplane part, for squeezing lemons with. ‘Do youhave a gadget that puts the food in your mouth and presses it down?’ he’danswered.ItwasalsotruethatAmericanworkerspaidahighpriceinexploitationand misery for their bottles of Coke. The marvellous techniques needed to beshakenfreefromthewrongsofAmericansociety.YetAmericawasstillamirrorinwhichhecouldseeaversionofhisownface.Thatwaswhyitwasfrightening,thatwaswhyitwasinspiring.

*

Lodgemust have been thinking, during the car ride, of what he planned to saylater,becauseinhisspeechatthelunchhostedbyMayorWagner,hetalkedagainabout America’s ‘welfare state’, even insisting that the American economicsystemcouldnolongerbedescribedsimplyas‘capitalism’.ItmadetheChairmanimpatient,thistransparentlyunconvincingattempttofiddlewiththebasiclabelsofthings.Whatdidtheythinkhewas,asimpleton?Heopenedhisreplywithafewjokes toease themood, thenputLodge firmlystraight. ‘Every snipepraiseshisownbog,’hesaid.‘Youextolthecapitalistbog.’Thenatureoftheworldwasnotaltered just because, it seemed, capitalism’s defenders had grown embarrassedabout what they were defending. ‘God knows,’ he said, ‘I see no differencebetweenthecapitalismthatMarxwroteaboutandthecapitalismMrLodgespokeoftoday.’‘Ifyoulikecapitalism,’hesaid,‘andIknowthatyoulikeit–carryonandGodblessyou!Butrememberthatanewsocialsystem,thesocialistsystem,isalreadytreadingonyourheels.’There.Hehadhopesofplainer speakingat thecocktailpartyhewent tonext,at the

cityhouseofAverellHarriman,afriendlymillionairewho’dbeenactingrecentlyasanunofficialchannelbetweenMoscowandWashington.Knowingthathewascurioustoseecapitalism’struelionsatclosequarters,HarrimanhadinvitedoveraboutthirtyoftherichestmeninallAmerica.Eachguesthadtopossessorcontrolatleast$100millioninassets.These,then,wouldbethecountry’srealmasters,asopposedtothepoliticianslikeNixonandEisenhowerwhomerelyhandledthebourgeoisie’s public business. Now it might be possible to make some realprogress.By5.30hewassittingonacouchinHarriman’slibrary,underalargepaintingbyPicasso.Lightgleamedonthewoodpanellingfromlampshadesmadeoflittlepiecesofmulticolouredglass,liketheglassinchurchwindows.Heeyedthepicturecovertly.Picassomightbeoneofours,he thought,a friendofworldpeace etc. etc., but for himself he preferred artwhere you could tellwhatwasgoingon.This thing looked, speakingpersonally, as if it hadbeenpaintedby adonkeywithabrushtiedtoitstail.Butprobablyitwasexpensive.Everythingelseclearlywas.Itwasnotdifficulttobelievethathewasinasanctumofpower;thathe, aworker, had been admitted into the company of the princes of thisworld.Whetherornot theywantedhimthere, theforceandcapacityof theSovietstatehad obliged them to let him in. Think of it!Miners had gouged at the stubbornearth, railroadmenhadblownon their hands at dawns colder than rigormortis,machinistshadskinnedoffbrightcurlsofswarf,soldiershaddiedintheshitandthemud,sothatoneoftheirowncoulddemandtobereceivedinthisquiet,richroomasanequal.Herehewas.Theyhadtodealwithhim.He gazed greedily at faces. The capitalists looked surprisingly ordinary, for

peoplewhointheirownindividualpersonswereusedtodevouringstolenlabour

inphenomenalquantities.Theircheekswerenotnotablybloated,andforthemostparttheywerewearingmodest,modernclothes,ratherthantheuniformofstripedtrousersandshinyblacktophatinwhichtheyhadalwaysbeenrepresentedinthecartoonsofhisyouth.Nordidtheyhavethepigs’snoutstheartistshadgiventhem,ofcourse.Butwhatminesoftechniquetheymustbe,allthesame.Whatsecretsofingenuitytheymustpossess,astheowners,managersandcontriversofAmericanabundance.Heknewhowitwastohandleaworkforce,fromhistimedrivingthemetrothrough–thebestschoolintheworld,learninghowtogiveyourcrewsthekindhandwhenpossible, the ironhandwhennecessary, learninghow to readaman’s possibilities andhis limits, learningwhen to listen to the specialists andwhen to override them, learning shortcuts and tricks and traps.Knowledge hadmountedupinhimlikefloodwater.Itmustbethesamehere.Thesemenhere,atthevery topofAmerican capitalism,must containwhole reservoirs of distilledknowledge.Behind these facesmust lie thedeft, skilfulorganisationof industryafter industry, service after service. Here were the arts, or some of them, ofmakingfactoriessatisfydesire.‘Mr Khrushchev,’ said Harriman, ‘welcome! I’m sure I speak for all of us,

RepublicansandDemocratsalike,whenIsayhowfirmlyunitedweareinsupportof PresidentEisenhower’s foreign policy, and in consequence how stronglywesupporthisinitiativeininvitingyoutotheUnitedStates.Now–weknowthatyouhave been answering questions from journalists and US senators almostcontinuously for the last forty-eighthours.Youwillprobablybedoing thesamethingformostoftherestofyourvisit.Wewonderedif, thisevening,youwouldliketorestyourtiredvocalchords,andperhapsaskussomequestionsinstead?’ThechiefofworldsocialismtakinginstructionfromAmericanmoneymen?No.‘Bringonyourquestions,’hesaidshortly.‘I’mnottiredyet.’Itwasnotquestions,though,somuchaslittleorationsthatthemillionairestook

turns to launch at him,onebyone, glancing at eachother as theydid so.AMrMcCloy,chairmanof theChaseManhattanBank, tried to tellhim thatAmericanfinancehadnoinfluenceonAmericanpolitics.‘Youmustunderstand,’hesaid,‘ifWallStreetisseenassupportingapieceof

legislation,it’sthekissofdeathinWashington.’Thechairmannarrowedhiseyes.ItwasthesamebizarretacticLodgehadused,

thesamebizarreeffort,apparently,topersuadehimthattheearthwasflat,theskywasgreen,themoonwasmadeofcheese.Bettertotakeitlightly.‘Verywell,’heanswered.‘Fromnowonwewillremembertopityyou.’The director of General Dynamics explained that, although his company

manufacturedatomicbombs,ithadnostakeintensionbetweenthesuperpowers.MrSarnoff,thetycoonoftheRCAradioempire,explainedthathehadleftMinsk

for theUnited States as a boy, and never regretted it, because of the virtues ofAmericanbroadcasting,whichhedescribedforalongtime.Heleftapausebeforehereplied.‘ThingshavechangedinMinsk,’hesaid.Nooneseemedinterestedinputtingpressureonthegovernmenttoliftthetrade

embargo.‘Whatdoyouhavethatyouwanttosellus?’hewasasked.‘Thisisadetail,’hesaid.‘If theprincipleisagreed, thenjuniorofficialscan

talkaboutspecificproducts.’‘Whatdowehavethatyouwanttobuy?’‘Wehaveeverythingweneed,’hesaid.‘Wearenotaskingforfavours.’Outside,thelatesummerdayhadbecomeoneofthoseeveningswherethesky

hasthepure,clearcolourofdarkeningwater,movingtoblackthroughdeeperanddeeperblues.Uptheavenue,hesaw,adustoftinygoldenlightswasappearing,justas Ilf andPetrovhadpromised.Asolitary strandofcloudcrossed thebluebetweenthebuildings,thinningandtighteninglikeapulledstring.Disappointmenttightened in the Chairman too, as security men hustled him from Harriman’sdoorstepintothewaitingcar.Unfamiliarcookingsmellscametohisnose,mixedwithpungentexhaust.Journalistssurgedforward:thestreetswerestillveryloud.Hewasnotquitesurewhatconversationhehadimaginedhimselfhaving,but

thathadnotbeenit.Intheguardedto-and-frointhere,theessentialthingshadnotbeensaid.Nobodyhadseemedtoregardeconomiccompetitionasanalternativeto the military variety, at least not in the sense that he had meant. Relax, heinstructedhimself.Hewasgoingtosayitallhimselfanyway,intonight’sspeech,withoutanyidiotinterruptions.

*

Backat theWaldorfAstoria theballroomwasnowcrammedwith twothousandotherbusinessmen,ofslightlylessultimatelustre.Thesewerethemerecaptainsofindustry,ratherthanthecaptainsofthecaptains;capital’sordinaryexecutives,instead of its innermost cabal. Perhaps they would be more receptive. In hisexperience,more junior apparatchiks often responded better to new initiatives.Indeed, there were times when the only way to get an organisation to changecoursewastobeheadit,andpromotenewleadershipoutofthemiddleranks.Ifhewere in charge ofAmerican capitalism, he thought, thatwould be the tactic hewouldadopt.IthadbeenafavouriteoftheBoss’s,anditworked;ithadjustbeenamistaketothinkthatthebeheadinghadtobeliteral.Retiringpeopleworkedjustaswell.Facesinfrontofhim.Facestoeachsideofhim,andabovehimtoo,becauseon

allsidesthisballroomhadtiersofbalconieslikeboxesatthetheatre.Heputon

his reading glasses and exchanged a look with young Troyanovsky. They hadrehearsed this speech carefully, revised it carefully too in order to incorporateAmbassadorMenshikov’s advice about which Soviet achievements had causedmostsoul-searchingintheAmericanpress.Butasalways,nowhenolongerhadtowatchhis tongue,he liked to thinkonhis feeta little,he liked to feel that infrontofanaudiencehewassettingoffonajourneynotcompletelymappedoutinadvance.Nowthen.

*

You’veprobablyneverseenacommunist,hesaid.Imustlooktoyoulikethefirstcamelthatarrivesinatownwherenobody’severseenacamelbefore:everyonewants topull its tail, andcheck it’s real.Well, I am real; and in fact I’m just ahumanbeinglikeeverybodyelse.Theonlydifferenceismyopinionabouthowthesocialsystemshouldberun.Andtheonlyproblemweallfacetodayisagreeingthat round the world each people should make their own choice about whichsystem to have. Aren’t there cases in your system, he said, where competingcorporationsagreenot toattackeachother?Whyshouldn’twe, representing thecommunist corporation, agree on peaceful co-existence with you, therepresentativesofthecapitalistcorporation?Itsurprisedhim,hesaid,whenMrLodgedefendedcapitalismwithsuchardour

earlierintheday.Whydidhedoit?DidhethinkhemightconvertKhrushchev?Or did he think, just maybe, that he had to stop Khrushchev converting theaudience…No,don’tworry; Ihavenosuch intention. IknowwhoI’mdealingwith – although, by theway, if anyoneherewould like to join inwith buildingcommunism,wecouldcertainlyfindthemajob.Weknowhowtovaluepeople,and the greater the benefit of their work, the more we pay them. That’s theprincipleofsocialism.Seriously,though,hewasdelightedtobeintheUnitedStates,anddelightedto

bemeeting American businessmen. Hewas sure that there wasmuch he couldlearn.Inthesamespirit,hesaid,therewassomethingtheymightlearnfromhim,whichwoulddothemgood,evenifmaybetheydidn’twanttohearit.Hewassuretheywouldn’tmindhimspeakingwithoutdiplomaticniceties,sincebusinessmenareusedtobeingutterlyfrankwitheachother.Theycouldlearn,hesaid,thatRussiawasn’tgoingtofail.Lookatthehistorical

record,hesaid.Since1913,wehaveraisedouroutputthirty-six-fold,whileyourshasonlyrisenfour-fold.Maybetheywoulddisagreethatthereasonforthismorerapid development was the socialist revolution; he didn’t want to impose his

ideologyonanyone.Butinthatcase,whatmiracleshaditbeenthatbroughtaboutthese amazing results?Why was it – he asked – that Soviet schools of higherlearning trained three times as many engineers as US colleges did? It mightinterest them to know that, in the new Seven-Year Plan which had justcommenced, theSovietUnionwasproposing capital investments aloneofmorethan $750 billion. Where did the funds for this come from? It could only beexplained by the advantages of the socialist system, since miracles, as we allknow,don’thappen.Whentheplanwascompleted,theSovieteconomywouldbealmost level with the American economy. And the plan was already ahead ofschedule.Theplan for1959hadcalled fora7.7%rise in industrialoutput,butbefore he left Moscow, Comrade Kosygin, Chairman of the State PlanningCommittee, had reported to him that in the first eightmonths of the year alone,therehadalreadybeena12%increase.Letnoonebeinanydoubt,hesaid,letnoone hide their head in the sand like an ostrich: more rapidly even than weprojectedinourplans,weshallsoonbeabletoovertaketheUnitedStates.Gentlemen, he said, these were only a fewwords about the potential of the

SovietUnion.Wehaveeverythingweneed.SomepeoplemayhavethoughtthatIcametotheUnitedStatestopressforSoviet–AmericantradebecausewithoutittheSeven-YearPlancannotbe fulfilled.Theyweremakingabigmistake.Theywould bemaking another if they believed that the trade embargoweakened thedefensivemightof theSovietUnion.Remember theSputniksandtherockets,hesaid. Remember that we were ahead of you in developing intercontinentalmissiles,whichyoustilldonothavetothisday–andanICBMisatrue,creativeinnovation,ifyouthinkaboutit.No,theembargowassimplyobstinacy.The US and the USSR had to choose between living in peace as good

neighbours, or drifting into another war. There was no third alternative. Theycouldn’tmove to themoon.According to the information fromthe recentSovietlunar probe, it was not very cosy there at the moment. So he reminded hisaudience thatgiganticpossibilities forgoodandevilwereconcentrated in theirhands.Theywere influentialpeople,andheurged themtouse their influence inthe right direction, and to come out for peaceful co-existence and peacefulcompetition.

*

Thatwas supposed tobe the speech’s last line. Itwaswherehis typescript ranout.Thelistenershadlaughedinsomeoftherightplaces,lookedgraveinsomeoftheintendedplacesaswell;butashelookedroundtheballroomnow,hethoughthesawsmilesofanoffensivekind,cynicalsmiles.

‘Someofyouaresmiling,’hesaid.‘It’llbeabitterpilltoswallowwhenyourealise you’rewrong.Still, nevermind, you’ll havenewopportunities to applyyourknowledgeandabilities,whentheAmericanpeoplegoovertosocialism.’Immediatelycatcallsandhootingburstoutfromtroublemakersinthebalcony.‘I am an old sparrow and you cannot confusemewith your cries,’ cried the

Chairman.‘Ididnotcomeheretobeg!IrepresentthegreatSovietstate!’

Notes–I.2MrChairman,1959

1 Along the aisle the lads from the Tupolev bureau: for the story of Tupolev junior’s non-hostagehostagehood,seeWilliamTaubman,Khrushchev:TheManandHisEra(NewYork:W.W.Norton,2003),p. 422. The situation was particularly delicate because Tupolev senior had indeed been arrested for animaginarypoliticalcrimeinthemiddleoftheSecondWorldWar–andthencontinuedtoworkonaircraftdesignasaprisonerinthe‘firstcircle’oftheGulag.

2 Everyone was wearing fine new outfits: for the visible Soviet prosperity of the 1950s, see AbelAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain:InsidethePerestroikaRevolution,trans.HelenSzamuely(London:Bantam,1989)andG.I.Khanin,‘1950s:TheTriumphoftheSovietEconomy’,Europe–AsiaStudies vol.55no.8(December2003),pp.1187–1212;forthewayinwhichthe1950sand1960ssawthesuccessfulfulfilmentofpromisesmadeinthe1930s,seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.67–114.

3TheSoviet economyhadgrownat 6%,7%,8%: for the vexed question of Soviet growth rates, seebelow, introduction topart II. I have chosenhere forKhrushchev, as seems likely, tobelieve theofficialSovietfigures,whichnaturallygavethehighestrate.

4 Let’s compete on the merits of our washing machines: this is the famous ‘kitchen debate’. SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.417–18;and thecoverage in theNewYorkTimes, vol.CVIII no. 37,072, 25July1959,pp.1–4.

5Withoutme,they’lldrownyoulikekittens:forthisprophecyofStalin’s,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.331.Forthepipe-emptyingandforehead-tappingepisodes,seepp.167–8and230.

6Forthetimebeing,youarericherthanus:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.427.7IfI’dknowntherewouldbepictureslikethese:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.426.8Were you in the war, Mr Lodge?: see Nikita Khrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers (Little Brown,

Boston1970).9HeknewfromreadingIlfandPetrov:IlyaIlfandEvgenyPetrov,famousauthorsofTheTwelveChairs

(a satireofSoviet lifeunder theNewEconomicPolicyof the1920s),droveacross theUSA in1936–7.Their Odenoetazhnaya Amerika (‘One-storey America’), complete with descriptions of the Fordproductionlineandastripteaseshow,wastheprimarysourceforKhrushchev’sgeneration’smentalpictureoftheUnitedStates.Perhapsfortunatelyforthemfromthepoliticalpointofview,bothIlfandPetrovdiedduringtheSecondWorldWar.

10Whatisthat000-000sound:despitefortyyearsinpolitics,Khrushchevhadgenuinelyneverheardbooingtillheencountereditabroad.ButIhaverelocatedhisfirstencounterwith‘the000-000noise’toNewYorkin1959fromLondonin1956.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.357.

11WehadthisinMoscowandLeningradbeforethewar:forthe1930sSovietexperimentwithfastfood,seeGronow,CaviarwithChampagne.

12OfcourseheadmiredtheAmericans:foranoverviewoftheSovietinfatuationwithAmericanindustry,see Stephen Kotkin,MagneticMountain: Stalinism as a Civilization (University of California Press,1995) and Steeltown, USSR: Soviet Society in the Gorbachev Era (Berkeley CA: University ofCalifornia Press, 1991); with American management techniques, see Mark R. Beissinger, ScientificManagement,SocialistDisciplineandSovietPower(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,1988);forAmericanmassculture,andespeciallyjazz,seeFrederickS.Starr,RedandHot:TheFateofJazzinthe Soviet Union, 1917–1980 (New York: OUP, 1983). Before the Second World War, this was anenthusiasm for a capitalist cultureperceived asbeing removed from, evenneutral in, theUSSR’s rivalry

with theold imperialpowersofEurope.After1945, itbecameamuchmoreproblematicperceptionofaresemblancetoanavowedenemy.

13Doyouhaveagadgetthatputsthefoodinyourmouth:seeNewYorkTimes,vol.CVIIIno.37,072,25July1959,pp.1–4.

14Heopenedhisreplywithafewjokes:theofficialtextsofKhrushchev’sspeechesinAmerica,shornofhecklesandimprovisations,butnotofjokes,areinKhrushchevinAmericaandLetUsLiveinPeaceandFriendship: The Visit of N S Khrushchov [sic] to the USA, Sept 15 –27, 1959 (Moscow: ForeignLanguages Publishing House, 1959); for accounts of the speeches in their disorderly contexts, seeTaubman,Khrushchev, pp. 424–39, and Gary John Tocchet, ‘September Thaw: Khrushchev’s Visit toAmerica, 1959’, PhD thesis, Stanford 1995, and Peter Carlson, K Blows Top: A Cold War ComicInterlude Starring Nikita Khrushchev, America’s Most Unlikely Tourist (New York: Public Affairs,2009).

15Paintedbyadonkeywithabrushtiedtoitstail:notajudgementKhrushchevisonrecordofmakingofPicasso, but characteristic of his reactions to art that was in any way abstract or non-figurative. SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.589–90.

16Their cheekswere not notably bloated: itwas a source of amazed comment toKhrushchev, on hisinternationalvisits,thattherichandpowerfulintheWestdidnotresembletheSovietcaricaturesofthem.Forcapitalists’lackoftophatsandsnouts,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.351and428;forthesurprisingfailureof theKingofNorwayand theQueenofEngland tobe sinisteranddegenerate, seepp.612and357.It’spossiblethatonereasonforhishostilitytotheBritishPrimeMinisterHaroldMacmillanwasthat,inMacmillan,hehadforoncemetsomeonewhodidlookalittlelikeaSovietstereotypeofanaristocrat.‘Iwant him to rush here, so that I can see him with omelette all over his dinner jacket’: Taubman,Khrushchev,p.467.

17Heknewhowitwastohandleaworkforce:Khrushchevfounditrelativelyeasy,thoughpsychologicallyalarming, to identify with businessmen, whom he tended to interpret as direct Western counterparts toSovietmanager-politicianssuchashimself.

18Bringonyourquestions,I’mnottiredyet:Khrushchev’sdialogueswiththebillionairesatHarriman’stownhouse are as recorded by J.K.Galbraith’s amused ear, in ‘The Day Khrushchev Visited theEstablishment’,Harper’sMagazinevol.242no.1,449(February1971),pp.72–5.

19Iamanoldsparrow:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.429.

LittlePlasticBeakers,1959If there was a joke, she was usually last to get it. If there was a catchphraserunning aroundhergroupof friends, shewould stumbleover it or say itwrongsomehow. She was popular with the boys, because when she decided to dosomething,sheplungedinanddefinitelydidit.Shedecidedthatitwasfoolishtobenervousabout sex, so she slept inquicksuccessionwithEvgeniy,PavelandOskar.Thenshehad tohaveanabortion,andOskar’sgirlfriendMarinamadeahorrible scene,whichdied down, but left behind a kindof nasty imprint in herdealingswithherfriends.Fromthenon,therewassomethingalittlebitmeaninthewaythegirlslookedather,somethingalittlebitspeculativeintheglancesofthe boys. It was a relief when she met Volodya, who was not on the nutritioncoursewith her but studied engineering.Volodya took things seriously too. Shewas sitting in aKomsomolmeetingwhen she noticed him. Itwas an averagelyboringmeeting,buthewasnottiltinghisheadbackandgazingat theceiling,ormakingthoselittledismissiveflickshereandtherewithhisgazewhichstoodin,atmeetings,forfull-scaleeyerolling.Hewastakingnotesonapadinsmall,neat,round handwriting. ‘It’s important for the future,’ he said, when she asked himabout it afterward. ‘If youwant to get towhere you’re going, it’s important toshowyou’re not just a passenger.’BeingwithVolodyawas restfully like beingwithherself.Hedidn’ttease.Hedidn’tdoflightsoffancy,thoughhedidplaysillytunesonthetrumpetwhenhewasdrunk.Hetoohadplans,andlikeher,hewasn’tembarrassedbytheideaofcarefullythinkingthroughwhatwouldbenecessarytoachieve them.Youmade a picture of the life youwanted to have, and then youworked back from there to the present. Volodya even came from a family thatresembledhersmorethanalittle,thoughhishometownwasdowninthesouth,notin theUrals.Her fatherwasdeputyParty secretary ina small town,hermotherwasabiologyteacher;hisfatherwassecondacccountantatamanganesemill,hismotherachemistryteacher.‘Snap,’saidVolodya.‘Snap,’sheagreed.Lyingnosetonoseinhisdormitorybedshefeltpartofanalliance.Hewasquitescrawnybuthishandswerewarmanddry.Theydecided tomerge theirplans.Bothhadonemore year to run before they graduated. They would marry next summer, theydecided,withtheirdegreessafelyintheirpockets.Theytalkedwithcomfortable,unironic thoroughness about flats and jobs. Both agreed on the absoluteimportanceofsecuringMoscowresidency.Theyhadcomefromtheedgestothecentre;theywerenotgoingbackagain,notreturningtoanymoreofthosesmall-

town evenings of reading the newspaper and trying to imagine the city. ‘We’llhave to make ourselves useful,’ Volodya said. ‘Make sure that our names getnoticed.’They volunteered for things. At first the things were tiny, clapping when a

monument was unveiled or handing out towels when students from fraternalPolandcametotheuniversity.Aperiodofprobationwasnormal.Theyexpectedas much: the Komsomol would need time to sort out solid types from fly-by-nights.But reassuringlyquickly, it seemed tobeunderstoodby thosewhomadesuchmatterstheirbusinessthatthetwoofthemwereindeedelectingthemselves(whichwastheonlywayithappened)intotheranksoftheenergeticandreliable,and then the activities they were called on for got more important; moreinteresting,even.Volodyawasaskedtojointheuniversity’sKomsomoldelegationtotheconferenceonyouthandsportwhichtheMoscowCitySovietwasholding,andshe,shefoundherselfoneAugustmorningsittinginabusdrawnuponasideroadbySokolnikiPark.Itwasahot,overcastdaywithaskyofgreyhazecreasedwithbrightnesshere

andthere.Pollenwasblowingabout.‘Everyone dressed smartly, I see. Good,’ said a district official called

Khristolyubov,whom itwashardnot to stare at becausehehad lost oneofhisearsinthewar,andmoreoverworeglasses,whichhe’dhadtotieonbehindhishead with a cord. Still, presumably the war injury helped make up for thedifficulty of running a Party career with a name that meant ‘Christ-lover’. Shewondered why he hadn’t changed it. ‘We’ve divided you into twos –’ and hestartedtoreadalistfromhisclipboard.‘GalinawithFyodor,’hesaideventually.Shelookedaround,andsawthatafewrowsbackaboyina leather jacketwasraisinghiseyebrowsandafinger.Herheartsankslightly–hehadthetypeoffacewhichlooksasifitispermanentlykinkedtowardsamusementevenwhenitisatrest – but she nodded and gave him a comradely smile. ‘Now remember,’Khristolyubovwenton, ‘don’tmissany of the opportunities to put our point ofview. Don’t be rude to the guides, but use all of the openings that we’vediscussed, and don’t forget to write in the visitors’ book on the way out. TheAmericansareaskingforcomments?Givethemcomments.’Theygotout,andscatteredintothepressofpeoplewaitingatthemaingateof

theexhibit,Fyodor-in-the-leather-jacketfallingintostepbesideher.‘OffwegotoAmerica,’hesaid.Shedidn’tknowhowtoreply.‘Whereareyouatcollege?’sheaskedpolitely.‘Nocollege,’hesaid.‘Factory.Electricalcircuits.’Withtheirallottedticketstheydidn’thavetostandinline,andthenexttimethe

gate opened, in they went, up the avenue of poplars towards the golden dome

where the tourbegan.Americangirls inpolkadottedknee-lengthdresses led theway.Theyallhadlittleroundhatson,andwhitegloves,andidenticalblackhigh-heeledshoes: itwasauniform.Shesmoothedat thewhitecottondress shehadchosen. Itwas simple,but shehadaddedagreen leatherbeltboughtat the fleamarket and a green purse, nearly matching, which her mother had found in adepartmentstore.Simplewasallright, ifyouhadblackhairandgreyeyes.Youneededplaincoloursandnottoomuchfuss.Fyodorcaughtthegestureandglanceddown. She frowned. TheAmerican girls’ faceswere ordinarilymixed betweenprettyandlesspretty,exceptthatallofthemseemedtobeflushedwiththesamepinkgoodhealth,and,studyingthemmorecarefully,someofthemturnedouttobemucholderthanshehadfirstimagined.Somemightbeasoldasthirty,yettheseones were as thin as the twenty-year-olds. Thinness seemed to be a kind ofuniformtoo.TheyspokegoodRussian,butyouwouldhavebeenabletotelltheyweren’tRussiangirlsevenwithouttheclothesorthenarrowwaists,becausetheysmiledallthetime,somuchitmustmaketheirfacesache,shethought.As theygotcloser, shecouldsee that thebigcurveof thedomewasactually

madeofthousandsofstraightstruts,arrangedinacomplicatedpatternoftriangles.Itdidn’tlooklikeabuildingatall;itseemedhardbutflimsy,likethehollowshellofamarineanimalthatyoumightfindonabeach,suckedthinbytides.Everybodylookedup as they stepped in through thedoor of thedome, andmurmuredwithsurprise.Inside, thedomewasallonehugeroom,withnoceiling, just thesamecrisplyflimsyskin,whichyoucouldseefromherewasorganisedintosix-pointedstars or flowers, repeating over and over. Now the result seemed halfwaybetween an organism and amechanism. It puzzled her a bit that theAmericanswould pick such a thing as the centrepiece of their exhibition. It was certainlyimpressive,initsway,butyoucouldtellthatitsatlightlyontheearth,andwouldsoonbegone.Itlookedstrangelycasual.‘Mm-hmm,’saidFyodor.‘…designedbyafamousAmericanarchitect,BuckminsterFuller,’oneof the

girlswas saying. Right across the big floor of the dome, the same speechwasbeingmadetoclose-packedcirclesoflistenersasmoreandmorepeoplepouredin.White-glovedhandspointedtoexhibitsaroundthebaseofthewalls,andtotheclusterofsevengiantwhitescreensoverhead,whichfilledmostofthespanofthegoldenwall in front of them. She tried to see the computer they had been toldabout with the answers to four thousand supposedly comprehensive questionsabout the United States. The suggested tactic there was a loud, increasinglyindignantsearchforaquestionaboutunemployment.There,thatwasprobablyit,thepanelofblackglassglowingwithcolumnsofwhitetext–butthelightsinthedomehad started to dim, and the crowdofMuscovites in their summer clothes

werefallingsilent,andgazingupwardatthescreens.Onallsevenscreens,thenightskybloomed.Ittookaminutetorealisethatthe

constellationsvaried from screen to screen: insteadof showing the same imageseven times, as she had expected, the screens were showing seven differentimages.Quietorchestralmusicstartedtoflowfromloudspeakers,musicwiththeeasyswooshofafilmscore,yetwhatfollowedwerenotmovingpicturesbutstillframes that onlymoved by changing, all in time together sometimes but also inunpredictable independent rhythms aspairs, as threes, as fours.The stars fadedout.Otherlightsfadedin:aerialshotsofbigcitiesbynight,twinkling.Thencamesevendawns,andaburstonallsevenscreensoflandscapes,emptyearly-morninglandscapes with no people in them. Mountains, deserts, wooded hills, plainscoveredincrops.Thephotographshadaglassy,exactdistinctness.Everythinginthemhad sharpedges, and thecolourswere soakedwith richness, so that lakesreflectedtheskyasadeepturquoiseandallthebrownsofthelandvergedonred,a particular almost edible red pitched somewhere between the shades ofchocolate and of blood. The pace slowed again. One farmhouse appeared,prosperousinthenewmorninglight;thenmany;thenscreenafterscreenofhouses,andstreetsfromtheair,flickflickflick,photographedfromjustfarenoughupsoyou could see the patterns of the streets repeating over and over, in grids andcurves and spirals like snails’ shells. Doorsteps, and painted front doors in arainbowofcoloursasshinyaslacquer.Doorstepswithbottlesofmilk,doorstepswithnewspapersleftonthem.Thedoorsflewopen!Outcamemeninhats,meninoveralls, men kissing their wives, men wiping their mouths and handing theirwivescoffee-cups,andchildren,childrenholdingboxeslikeminiaturesuitcases.Thelittleboyshadshorthaircuts,likesoldiers,orconvicts.Thechildrenwentofftoschoolinsquareyellowbuses,andthemenwenttowork,inapeltofimagesoftrainsandcars.Someofthese,suddenly,didmove;allofasudden,sevenshiningcarsstretchedoutlongandlowwerespeedingonhighwaysreducedbyspeedtoblursof that same rich red-brown.Stillyoucouldn’twatch them thewayyou’dwatchafilminthecinema.Youhadtolookaroundthesevenscreens,notatanyoneofthem,andmorewasalwaysgoingonthanyoucouldquitegrasp,morewasalways going in at the corners of your eyes. More roads, more bridges, moretunnels. More highway intersections seen from the sky, gigantic, twisted likeconcreteknotsanddottedwithmadnumbersofvehicles.Onewouldhavebeenamarvel:thismanywereabombardment.Moremoremore.TheAmericandayproceeded.Themenworked, inofficesand factories.The

childrenstudied.Thewomen,apartfromtheoneswhowereteachingthechildrenintheschools,stayedathome,polishingandvacuuminghugeroomsasunclutteredas stage sets. The camera lovingly kissed every surface. It was as enthusiastic

overthegreymetalofafilingcabinetasitwasoverfaces.Everythingshone,asifit hadbeennew-minted thatmoment.Shekept expecting that the screenswouldsoonshowtechnicalorartisticachievementstheAmericanswerespeciallyproudof,andthereweresomeindustrialpiecesoffootagewhichmadetheaudienceinthedomestir,andsquint togetabetterview,but theywereveryshort.ShehadneverreallyhadtothinkabouttheAmericansbefore.Theywerethevillainsinthestory.Shewouldhavesupposed that theywouldseize thischance to tella rivalstory,acounter-story,inwhichtheyweretheheroes.Insteadtheyseemedtohavecomewithnostory;nostorybeyondthisuntiring,universalbrightness,thisglowspreadingfromeveryobject.Noweveninghadcome,andfamiliessatdowntoeatinfrontofplasticcurtainsprintedwithmerrycartoonanimals.Childrenjokedandfatherssawedatroastedbeef,luminouslyred-brown,red-brown,red-brown.Shefelt…taunted.Shereachedinhermindforthefamiliarcomfortofherfuture,butthepictureofthetrim,comfortablelifeshehadplannedwithVolodya,alwayssonearandeasytolayhandsontillnow,didn’tseemtobewhereshehadleftit.Ithadbeendisplacedsomehowbythepictureshow.Shehuntedquicklythroughhermemory,expectingtofinditshovedtoonesidebythepressofthisAmericanstuff,yetstillintact,stillastightlyfilledoutaseverwithreassurance.Shehuntedandhunted,butthereitwasn’t.Shecouldn’tfindit,couldn’tframeitinherheadasasolidthing.Ithadgone,asifthescouringwindofimageshadblownuponit,andithadabradedaway.Butsheneededit.Asshewentonsearching,asensationshedidn’t recognise began to take hold of her.A kind of bubblewas rising in herchest, risingandgrowingandwantingtobreakout. If itdidshewouldshakeorshoutout,shecouldtell.Onthesevenscreens, thedayendedsevenways, in tranquilblackandwhite.

Loversembraced,alittlegirlkissedhersleepingfather,ababysettledtostillnessinacrib,acouplereachedtoswitchoffmatchinglampsscrewedtotheheadboardoftheirbed.Thescreensallwentdark.Thentheoneinthecentrefadedupagainwith one last, long image, of blue flowers in a jug. The crowd in the domemurmuredthenameoftheflowersaspeopleidentifiedthem.‘Forget-me-nots…’‘Hey.Hey.Hey.’Fyodorwas shaking her shoulder, and shewas still staring up at the screens

with her mouth open. There was work to do: already the crowd was beinggatheredupfor the restof the tourbynewguides fanningout through thedome,men this time.She swallowedhard, andpushed thebubbleofpanicbackdowntowards the place it came from. She would not permit it. She was a sensibleperson.‘Hello, hello,’ said their new guide,making a gesturewith both armswhich

expertlyclaimedforhisownagroupoffifteenpeopleorso.‘Welcomeonceagain

to theAmericanNationalExhibition,wouldyou like to followme.Myname isRogerTaylor,andI’mastudentoftheRussianlanguageatHowardUniversityinVirginia, just outsideWashington, DC. Please, if Imake anymistakes speakingyour beautiful language, you should just sing out straight away and tellme. I’msureIhaveanaccent.Now,thethemeofourexhibitionhereistheAmericanWayofLife…’Shewas tryingurgently to catchFyodor’s eye,buthehadalready turnedand

was trailingoutof thedomewith the restof thegroup, leavingher todigestbyherself the fact thatRogerTaylor,unexpectedly,wasaNegro.Thehandhewasholdingabovehishead likeasailorashark’sfinwas–notblack,she thought,moreakindofgoldencaramel.Thedebatingpointstheyhadbeengivenhadnotbeendevisedwithhim inmind.Though theKomsomol, she thoughtangrily,hadbeen sending activists into the exhibition for nearly twomonths now; theymusthave known that some of the guides were Negroes; they might have said. Shehurriedtocatchup.The group were walking across the turf towards the main pavilion, a long

curvedarcofabuildingsothoroughlyconstructedofglassthatyoucouldseerightintoit,towheremanyflightsofmetalstepswentupanddownbetweenblocksofcolourapparentlyfloatinginmid-air.‘…afully-featuredbeautysalon,’RogerTaylorwassaying,‘whereyouladies

arewelcometo tryoutoneof thefacial treatments inventedbyMadameHelenaRubinstein,andtohearaboutthecosmeticswhichareinfashionintheUSArightnow.Andwehaveacompletecolour-TVstudio,andademonstrationofpackagedandconveniencefoods,andalso–’‘Is this,’ she interrupted, and was amazed at how harsh and loud her voice

sounded.‘Isthisthenationalexhibitionofapowerfulandimportantcountry,orisitthebranchofadepartmentstore?’Roger Taylor looked at her unsurprised, as if to say: ah-ha, so you’re my

designatedopponentthistimeround,areyou?Andwhere’syourfriend?Therestofthegroupregisteredherpresencetoo.Shecouldfeelit,afaintintensifyingofreserveinthepresenceofauthority,orinthepresenceofsomebodyconnectedtoauthority,howeverlongthestring.Shehaddoneitherself,thisslightwithdrawalwithnoactualmovement,butneverbeenonthereceivingend.‘Well,’hesaid,‘Icertainlyhopeyouwon’tbedisappointed,onceyou’vehada

chancetoseesomeoftheexhibits.ButasIwassayingbefore,thethemeisthelifepeople are leading in America today, so the exhibits are chosen to give youinformationabouthowordinaryAmericansspendtheirtime;howwework,howwedress,whatwedo forentertainment.The thingsyou’ll see todayarechosenbecause they’re typical, not because they’re exceptional. Take this display for

example–’Bynowtheyhadenteredthepavilionandclimbeduponeoftheflightsofsteps.

Theblocksofcolourturnedouttobepanelsoffine,translucentplasticfittedintoaframeworkofthinrodstomakecubicdisplaycabinets.Inthemweregleamingaluminiumsaucepansandlittlestacksofplasticutensils.Therewereblueplasticbowlsbigenoughtoholdthreeorfourbrokeneggs,therewerelittleivoryplatesridgedupanddownandlefttorightasiftheplasticsurfacehadswallowedupapieceofchequeredfabric,therewerebeakersstandingingroups.Thebeakershadhandles just big enough for a child’s fingers, and smooth rims. In the flush ofcolourfromthepanels,theyshonewiththeirowncoloursasiftheywerelitfromwithin. Spotlightswere aimed up through them frombelow, andmade the littleplastic beakers into goblets of cheap emerald, cheap ruby, cheap sapphire.Everythingaboutthemsaidease.ShehadseenFabergéeggsinanartgallery,andtheyimpliedaworldwhenyoulookedatthem,atinyworldoftsarsandtsarinas,a jewelledworld inwhich jewelswereathome.These impliedaworld too:aworldwhichhadbeenridoffriction,becauseitssurfaceswereeasytowipe,itsdraining-boardsdidn’tcrackandbuckle,itspaintworkdidn’tbubblewithmineralsalts. Roger Taylor’s tour group stood on themetal landing and gazed into thecubbyholesoflightfloatingbeforethem.Thebeakerswereoutofreach,andthiswasgood,becauseshewantedtoputoutafingertipandstrokethem.‘Allofthesepiecesofcookwarethatyouseeherearewellwithinthebudgetof

theaverageAmericanfamily,’hecontinued.‘Thiswasaguidingprincipleoftheexhibition.Youdon’thavetoberichtobuyanyofthese.’‘Nothing for millionaires, then?’ asked an elderly worker. ‘No diamond-

studdedtoiletseatsorgoldplates?’‘I’mafraidnot,’saidRogerTaylor.Theoldmangaveacomicalsighofdisappointment.‘Whatisthisonefor?’askedawomaninherforties.‘It’sasaladspinner,’hesaid.‘Youputyourlettuceleavesinhereafteryou’ve

washed them,andwind the littlehandle,and thewater fliesoff.Butyoushouldreallyaskmymother.I’mnotagoodcook.’Thegrouplaughed.Theylikedhim.‘Through herewe have our supermarket,’ he said, leading them to a balcony

fromwhich they could see ahall full ofRussianspressingup against a countermannedbymoreoftheguides.‘Asyoucansee,it’squitecrowded,solet’swaitamomentbeforewegodown.’‘Arethegoodsreallyforsale?’saidamaninacheckshirtwithafacefromthe

FarEast,ChukchiorMongolianorsomethinglikethat.‘Unfortunatelynot,’saidRogerTaylor.‘I’mafraidallwecandoisshowthem

toyou.ButIcanpromiseyouafreecupofPepsioncewe’redoneinhere.(It’sakind of soft drink,ma’am.) In themeantime,why don’t we have a look at thischart.Asyoucan see, theaveragewage foran industrialworker in theUSA isroundaboutahundreddollarsaweek–whichcomesto,say,athousandroublesat the tourist exchange rate. What can you buy for that? Well, you could getyourselftwomen’ssuits.Orseventy-sixofthosesaucepanswejustsaw.Or417packsofcigarettes.Or–’‘Hang on,’ said Fyodor. ‘Excuse me for interrupting, but how much of this

hundreddollarsdoesthis“averageworker”get tokeep?Isn’t it thecasethathemustpaynearlythirtydollarsofit intaxes?ImentionthisbecauseintheSovietUnion,asamatteroffact,wehardlypaytaxesatall.Andthenwhataboutrent?Whatabouttransportation?Whatabouthealthcare,whichofcourseisnotfreeintheUnitedStates?Howmuchwouldyousayisreallyleftoverforbuyingsuitsorsaucepans?’He said all this smiling, andhe spokequickly, rattlingoff his sentences.The

group,whichhadmurmuredsympatheticallyatthementionoftheAmericantaxes,all turnedtheirheadstoseewhatRogerTaylorwouldsay,with thespectatorialinterestofacrowdatasoccermatchwho’vejustseentheballkickeddeepintotheotherside’shalfofthepitch.The guide gave an acknowledging nod to Fyodor. He was smiling too. ‘I

suspect you can tell me,’ he said. ‘I suspect you’re thinking of the figurespublishedinthisApril’sissueoftheCongressionalRecord,amIright?’‘Asamatteroffact Iam.According to thisnewspaper–which isanofficial

newspaperof theUSgovernment, I think– the“average”Americanworkercanonlyaffordtospendabout$7.50ofhiswagesonclothing.Youcan’tbuyasuitforthat,canyou?’‘Butwhowantstobuyasuiteveryweek?’counteredRogerTaylor.‘WhatIcan

tellyouisthat,intheUnitedStates,theordinaryworkingguytakesitforgrantedthathe’llownasuittogooutdancinginonaFridaynightwithhiswife,andoftenheownsacar too, aswe’ll seewhenweget to theautomobileexhibitoutside.Maybeit takesabitoforganisingtoget thelifehewants,abitofcarewiththemoney,butisn’tthattrueeverywhereintheworld?TheimportantthingisthatthestandardoflivingforordinaryAmericanshasrisentothelevelyouseehere,andgoesonrising,yearbyyear.’‘Ah yes,’ said Fyodor, ‘the “ordinary” American with the “average” wage

again.But howmany people really earn these averagewages? Isn’t it true thatmillionsofAmericanfamiliessurviveonincomesmuchsmallerthanthese–thatthreemillion familiesmust somehow get by on only a thousand dollars a year,whichisonlytwentydollarsperweek?Theseareworkerstoo,livingindreadful

misery.Sohowcanwetrustyouraverage?HowcanyouexpectustobelievethatallthesefineproductsarereallyfamiliartoordinaryAmericanworkers?Iflifeisso good,Mr Taylor,why doAmerican steel-workers go on strike every singleyear?’‘Because theywant their lives to be even better. Because theywant to earn

more.’‘Maybetheygettheaverage’,saidtheoldmanwho’dwantedtoseedecadent

toiletseats, ‘byaddingtogether thecapitalist’swageandtheworker’s,and thensplittingthem!’Hesnickered.‘Actually,’ said a bald man in square spectacles who had not said anything

before, ‘it would depend on whether you were talking about the mean or themedian.’At this teacherly remark,noone spoke. ‘Ihaveaquestion, ifyouwillpermitme.MrTaylor,IwonderifyoucouldsayalittlemoreaboutthewaythatpricesaredecidedintheAmericaneconomy?’‘I’mnotquitesurewhatyoumean,sir.’‘Imean,howisitthatthepackofcigarettescosts’–youcouldseehimdoing

thesuminhishead–‘twenty-fourcents?Whytwenty-fourcentsandnottwenty-threecentsortwenty-fivecents?Howisthisarrivedat?’RogerTaylorshookhishead.‘I’msorry,’hesaid,‘butthat’saquestionforan

economist,notforastudentofliterature.Ican’thelpyouthere.’‘Ah,’saidthebaldman.TheguidelookedatGalina.Anymore?saidhisexpression,clearasdaylight.

Shepressedherlipstogether.‘OK,’hesaid.‘Ithinkthere’senoughspaceforusinthesupermarketnow,’and

he ledoffdownthestairs. ‘DoyoureadPushkin?’Galinacouldhear thesalad-spinnerladyaskinghimastheydescended.The troublewas that shedidbelieve it.Oh,not thatallAmericanswere rich

andhappy,orthattheycouldnecessarilyaffordalltheproductsthatRogerTaylorsaidtheycould;butthatsomehow,foratleastsomepeopleinAmerica,alifewasgoingonwhoseexistenceshehadnotsuspectedtillnow,inwhichitwaspossibleto obtain things, things as covetably pretty and convenient as the little plasticbeakers,withouthavingtodoanythingtodeservethem.Withouthavingtomakeaplan. Without having to part with anything except banknotes. Just by goingshopping.RogerTaylortalkedaboutthemoneythingscostasifthatweretheonlyconsideration.Shewrestledwiththeidea.Shefeltthewayyoudowhenyoureachthebottomofastaircaseonestepbeforeyou’reexpectingit,andjaryourbonesbytrying to step into the solid floorwithall theunbrakedhurryofyourdescent. Itseemedthatlifecouldbeeasierthanshehadimagined.Butnot,ofcourse,forher.She was still living where it was necessary to pay for the life you wanted in

boredomandembarrassment.Unfair,unfair,shethought.They passed through the supermarket, Roger Taylor showing off packages of

fruitjelly,frozenmaizekernels,tinnedsoup,anddrygreynodulesthatturnedintomashedpotatoifyouaddedboilingwater.Thentheyemergedontothegrassagainand drank black lemonade from cups made of waxed paper. The sweet liquidmadetheoldmanburp.Americancarswereparkedbehindacircularfence,waisthigh.Theylookedjustliketheonesonscreeninthedomehaddone,withashark-likelengthtothemandchromeornamentsatthefrontforteeth.Allthemeninthegroup including Fyodor went and leaned on the fence. ‘Ooh, baby,’ croonedFyodor, and was immediately enfolded in a male conversation about thedesirability of the differentmodels on display, and the Soviet carmake whichcameclosest in termsof lip-lickingappeal. (TheGaz factory’sChaika,was theconsensus.) He made a nominal effort to get Roger Taylor to agree that thevehiclesrepresentedbourgeoiswaste,buthisheartwasn’tinit,youcouldtell.Hehadspeededuphistalkingonenotchfurtherstill,andthistimetheeffectwasthatheseemedtoholdeachsentenceatarm’slengthashesaidit.‘Surely-these-are-just-an-indulgence-in-a-country-where-thousands-of-children-go-to-bed-hungry.’You-know-I-have-to-say-this.But thewordswerebeing said, andFyodor couldtruthfully claimhehad said them.She,on theotherhand,was still silent.FromtimetotimeRogerTaylorlookedatherinfaintpuzzlement.‘Wherecanwebuythese?’asked theMongol,withoutverymuchhope. ‘Will

theybeimported?’‘SofarasIknow,therearen’tanyplansto,’saidRogerTaylor.‘You’dhaveto

takethatupwithyourownauthorities.’Sheknewthatifshedidn’tsaysomethingsoon,shewouldn’tbeabletoatall.

Her tongue was thickening up, or something. She didn’t feel even slightlyeloquent.Aheadofthem,akindofarcadejuttedout,orperhapsmoreofastretched-out

bandstand,withanother roof that lookedas if ithadgrown.Pillars roseupandspread to join, likeoverlappingmushrooms. Inside,a lowstageranfromleft toright. Many tour groups were flowing in and coagulating into a crowd. RogerTaylorledhisin,andtheystoodtogetherattheback,halfshadedbytheroof,halfbyabigpinetree.‘Nowwecometo thefashionshow,’hesaid.‘AparadeofmodernAmerican

formalwearandcasualwear,modelledforyoubymycolleagues.’LoudmusicstartedupwhichmadeFyodorsmile,andalineofmaleandfemale

guidesdancedoutontothestage,themendressedinstripeysweaters,thewomenin check dresses with skirts which flew out into wide circles. The crowdapplauded; but she scarcely looked. She was gazing at Roger Taylor, and

scrabblingthroughthelistofthingsshecouldsay.Itfeltalmostcompanionabletobestandingtherenexttohim.Hespoke,thegroupaskedquestions,andeverythingwent along smoothly, evenFyodor’s interventions. She found it hard to believeshecouldreachthequarrelshewassupposedtobehavingwithhim.Unlessshemade it happen, the tour would soon end without her having done her job.Somehow shehad to crack the surfaceof the situation.Thebubble in her chestwasback.‘Youdon’tdance?’MadamSalad-Spinneraskedhim.‘Idon’tdance?’saidRogerTaylor,pretendingtobeindignant.Heclickedhis

tongue.‘Ma’am,whataninsult.I’mafinedancer.Itjustisn’tmyturntoday.’‘I’m sure you dance beautifully,’ said the woman, with a kind of motherly

daring.‘YoumakeeverythinginAmericasoundsogood,’Galinabrokein,witharush.

‘Youmakeitsoundasifthecountryisnothingbutagardenfullofroses.Butthisis not true, at all, is it?Because, because, inAmerica there are terrible socialproblems. What, what about, the great, terrible evil of racial discrimination,whichyoumustknowverywellyourself?’RogerTaylorlookedexhaustedforaninstant,andsheguessedsuddenlythathe

wasusedtotakingarestforalittletimewhilehistourgroupswatchedthefashionshow.Buthehidthewearyexpressionbehindanewsmile,andreplied:‘IfIgaveanyonetheimpressionthatlifeinAmericawasperfect,Iapologise.

Because, of course, it isn’t. We have our problems, like any country, we’veinheritedourfairshareoftoughproblemsfromthepast;and,likeyousay,oneofourbiggestproblemshasbeen theway thatourcolouredcitizensandourwhitecitizensgetalongtogether.Wefoughtawholecivilwartoendslavery,youknow,at the same time your Tsar Alexander was ending serfdom here. But wemakeprogress,youknow.We’vecomea longwayasasociety,andwegoongettingbetter…’So smooth, still so smooth.What could she say thatwouldmakemore of an

impression?‘Most important of all,’ hewas saying, ‘we feel confident that ourAmerican

system of values holds the key to defeating prejudice and injusticewherever itmaybefound.Webelieve–’‘Whydoyoukeepsayingwe?’sheinterrupted.‘Whydoyoukeeptalkingasif

youareincluded?’‘I’msorry?’hesaid,givingher,forthefirsttime,alookofrealdislike.Itwas

also an accusing look, as if to say, thisgamehad rules, didn’t you know that,didn’tyounoticethat?Shecouldn’tstopnow.Thewordssoundedhorriblypersonalastheycameout

ofhermouth,butthiswastheonlywayshecouldthinkoftocombinethestandardargument they’dbeengiven againstAmerican racismwith the awkward truthofRogerTaylor’scolour.‘Imean,’ she ploughed on, ‘you keep saying “WeAmericans”, “we do this”,

“wedothat”.ButwhiteAmericansdon’ttreatyouasanequal,dothey?YouarefromVirginia andVirginia is in the South of theUnited States, I think. So theywon’tevenletyoudrinkthesamewaterasthem.’His expression was now unreadable. He had set his jaw, and a line had

appearedoneach sideofhismouth.Hemovedhishead fromside to sideveryslightly,likesomeonetryingtofindaclearpathforward.Theothersinthegrouphadstartedtoturnandpayattention.Theywerelookingather.Youcouldtellbythewaytheyhadhitchedtheirshouldersthattheywereannoyed:maybebecauseshewasbeingunpleasanttoniceMrTaylor,maybebecauseshewasinsistingonpouringpoliticsintheirearsinthemiddleoftheironechancetowatchthefashionparade.‘Iraisethispoint’,sheoffered,‘becauseintheSovietUnionallnationalities–’‘It’s true,’hesaid,overridingher. ‘Whatyousay.That’s true.Atpresent.But

that is a local law; it can change, and if you ask me, it will change. But theDeclarationofIndependencewon’tchange,andyouknowwhatthatsays?Itsays,“Allmenarecreatedequal”.’Partofherwaspleasedthathehadlosthislightfootedpoise,thathewasnow

pickinghiswordsslowlyandpainfully,thatshewasmanagingtokickbackattheworld that had teased herwith the little plastic beakers. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,anotherpartwanted to say, aware that thepublichumiliation shewas involvingthembothinmeantsomethingdifferent tohim,somethingsheonlysenseddimly.Butitwastoolateforcourtesies.‘Idon’tseewhatgooditdoesthatthosewordsareonapieceofpaper.Infact,’

she said, ‘in fact, thosewords are a lie, aren’t they, if theyare contradictedbywhatreallyhappens?Look,’shesaid,pointingat thestage,‘there’sanotherlie.’Theguidesonthestagehadstoppeddancing,andwerenowactingoutaweddingscene, to the sound of slow organmusic. Two of the guides acting asweddingguests, amanandawoman,werealsoNegroes. ‘Youshowusblackandwhitebehaving like friends, yet in your ownnewspapers, this has been denounced assomething disgusting, that Negroes and white people would be together at awedding.’‘AfewSenatorsobjected.Asyousee,theylosttheargument,andthewedding

sceneisstillintheshow.’‘Intheshow,yes,butwhataboutinreality?Wouldthisreallyhappen?Idon’t

thinkso.’

‘Maybenotthisyear,’saidRogerTaylor,straininhisvoice.‘Butaskagainnextyear.Askagaininfiveyears.’‘Andthat’sgoodenough,foryou,isit,’shesaid,herownvoicerising,‘thatin

fiveyears thingsmaybea littlebitbetter.Doyou think that’sgoodenough?Doyouthinkit’sall right towait,andwait,andwait?’Sheseemedtoherself tobewinningtheargument,yetthebubbleofpanicwasslippingfree.He breathed in and out through his nose, and stared at her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I

don’t think that’sgoodenough.Tellme,whatdon’tyou think isgoodenough inRussia?’‘Thisisinterestingmusic–’beganFyodorloudly.Galinaignoredhim.‘WeweretalkingaboutAmerica,’shesaid.‘America,not

Russia. Where your people are treated without any dignity! My question, MrTaylor,myquestionis,whyhaveyoubetrayedyourpeoplebycomingtoMoscowtorepresentacountrylikethat?’Roger Taylor’s lips mouthed air, then dropped open, slack with shock, and

nothingcameout.Rules?saidhisdisbelievingeyes.Weren’tthere?Some?Any?Shehadblownahole inhischarm,all right;hecouldn’tspeak.Sheunderstoodonly in the barest theorywhy the questionhaddone that to him, but seeinghimspeechless,voiceless,shewasabletoglimpseforasecondhowimportantcharmmighthavebeentohim,asacovering,asadefence.Shesaw,hazily,howmuchitmighthaveweighedwithhimtofeelthathecouldcountonpossessingathickskinofpleasingwords,whenhehad judged it right tocomeandspeakforacountrywhich wasn’t certain, this year, that it would share a drinking glass with him.Therewasdreadfulsilence.Then an angry muttering hum arose from the circle gathered around them,

apparentlygeneratedbyallofthegroupatoncewithoutanyofthembeingsinglyresponsible for it. Shehad takenpart in this typeofmass ventriloquism, in hertime,attackingunpopular teachersback inhighschool.Butshehadneverhad itaimedather.Itwashertheywereallangrywithnow.Roger Taylor blinked, and abruptly seemed to calm, as if there were some

substantialcomfort in finding itwas justherhehad todealwith,not thewholering of pale Muscovite faces. He took a half-step back from her outstretchedfinger,anddeliberatelyexhaledhiscaughtbreath.‘I’mveryglad’,hesaid,withadotofcarefulacidoneveryword,‘thatmydignitymeanssomuchtoyou.Inmyopinion,’hesaid, ‘Ihaven’tbetrayedanyone.AndI thinkmyopinion is theonethatcounts,don’tyou?Becausetheonlywayoftellingthatkindofthingistolookinsideyourself,atyourownconscience.Andeverybodyhastodothat.Everybodyhastodecidewheretoplacetheirhopes,andwhatcompromisesareallrighttomake,andwhatcompromisesaren’tOK.Afterall,’hesaid,‘wealldomakeour

compromises–don’twe?’Shewasnotapersonwhoblushed.Now,sheblushed.‘But–’shebegan.‘Whydon’tyouleavethepoorboyalone?’hissedMadamSalad-Spinner.‘Shhh!’agreedseveralofthegroup,emboldened.Unfriendlyeyesregardedher.RogerTaylorleftabeatofsilence;hissilence,now.‘Whydon’twegoon,’he

said,andheledtherestofthepartyaway.

*

Fyodor leftwith them.A couple ofminutes later, he darted back.Shewas stillstandingonthesamespot.Shehadherhandsoverherface.‘That didn’t go too well,’ Fyodor observed. ‘You shouldn’t take things so

seriously.Look,stayhere;you’reupset.I’lldotherest.’‘Whatwillyoutellthem?’sheasked.‘Don’t worry so much,’ he said. There was an expression she hadn’t seen

beforeonhisface.‘We’llworksomethingout,’hesaid.

Notes–I.3LittlePlasticBeakers,1959

1‘Nowremember,’Khristolyubovwenton: thisone-earedPartyofficial is fictional,but thecampaign toguide thereactionofSovietvisitors to theAmericanexhibitionbysending inpairsofKomsomolhecklerswasquitereal.SeeWalterHixson,PartingtheCurtain:Propaganda,Culture,andtheColdWar,1945–1961(NewYork:StMartin’sPress,1997).

2American girls in polkadotted knee-length dresses: for photographs of the American exhibition inSokolnikiPark,andoftheMuscovitevisitorstoit,seeLifeMagazine,vol.47no.6,10August1959,pp.28–35,withlittleplasticbeakersonp.31;fordescriptionsoftheexhibits,seeWalterHixson,PartingtheCurtain; for a readingof thedesignpoliticsofBuckminsterFuller’sdome, seeAlexSoojung-KimPang,‘DomeDays:Buckminster Fuller in theColdWar’ in JennyUglow andFrancis Spufford, eds,CulturalBabbage: Technology, Time and Invention (London: Faber & Faber, 1996), pp. 167–92; for pressreactionintheUS,seeNewYorkTimes,vol.CVIIIno.37,072,25July1959,pp.1–4.

3Shehadaddedagreenleatherbeltboughtatthefleamarket:thatistosay,atoneofthelegalbazaarsorcar-boot sales (withoutcarboots)whereSovietcitizenscouldsell theirpossessionssecond-hand.Youcoulddisposeofbric-a-bracandyoucouldputyourownhandicraftsup for sale, likepaintingsorcarvedwoodenspoons,butyoucouldn’tmanufactureanythingwithout falling foulofArticle162of theCriminalCode, dealing with ‘the exercise of forbidden professions’, or resell things bought from state stores,because that contravened Article 154, forbidding ‘speculation’. For the intricacies of the Soviet rulesgoverningpersonalproperty,seeP.CharlesHachten, ‘PropertyRelationsand theEconomicOrganizationofSovietRussia,1941to1948:VolumeOne’,PhDthesis,UniversityofChicago2005.

4Onallsevenscreens ,thenightskybloomed:fordescriptionsofCharlesandRayEames’sdeliberatelyoverwhelming audio-visual presentation for the exhibition, and stills, see Beatriz Colomina, ‘Informationobsession:theEameses’multiscreenarchitecture’,TheJournalofArchitecturevol.6(Autumn2001),pp.205–23,andCraigD’Ooge,‘“Kazam!”MajorExhibitionoftheWorkofAmericanDesignersCharlesandRayEamesOpens’,LibraryofCongressInformationBulletin,May1999.

5Thefact thatRogerTaylor,unexpectedly,wasaNegro: thoughRogerTaylorhimself is an invention,therewere a small number ofAfrican-Americans among theRussian-language students recruited to be

exhibition guides, a controversial decision back in theUS, and a source of exactly the kind of difficultyrepresentedheretoKomsomolhecklersequippedwithtalking-pointsaboutAmericanracism.SeeHixson,PartingtheCurtain.

6Is this thenational exhibition of apowerful and important country:Galina and Fyodor’s objectionsduringthetouraremodelledoncontemporarySovietpressreaction,asrecordedinCurrentDigestoftheSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.XIno.30,pp.3–4,7–12;vol.XIno.31,pp.10–13.

7 The Soviet car-make which came closest in terms of lip-licking appeal: I’ve followed the maleconversation at the beginning of Boris and Arkady Strugatsky’s Monday Begins on Saturday innominatingtheGazChaika.ForfurtherSovietautomobiliana,seewww.autosoviet.com,andbelow,partVchapter1.

WhiteDust,1953Perhapsanygreatchangedemandsabeginning in theimagination,a rememberedmoment aboutwhich you can say: forme at least, it began there. In the ferventearlysixties,when thealliance for reformineconomicswas justdislodging thedogmaticmonopoly that insisted all questionswere already answered, andnewcriss-crossterrainsforargumentwereopeningupindepartmentafterdepartmentof thought where there had only been the catechism before, and there wereconstantlynewpeople’searstobend,andstealthynewacademicturfwarstofight–whenallthatwasgoingon,EmilShaidullinwouldtellhimselfthatforhimthebeginningwas thedayhewalked to thevillage. ‘Stalinwasdeadand thebirdsweresinging,’hewouldthink.Yetrightthere,already,hindsighthadcontaminatedthedata.HewouldbefarmoregladlaterthatStalinwasdeadthanhehadbeenthatsummer,asastudentfreshlygraduatedfromtheeconomicsfacultyofMoscowUniversity.Then,thedeathoftheGeneralSecretaryscarcelyfeltlikeaneventyoucouldbeglad,orsorry,about.Likeashiftintheearth’scrustorachangeintheclimate, there it just was, huge, undeniable, but completely obscure in itssignificanceasyet.Ifyouwereyoungin1953,andluckyenoughtocomefromafamilythathadnotexperiencedthesharpendofhisrule,youhadnoclearideaofwhat you had escaped, because an old Georgian had twitched his last on agovernmentcarpet;andyoudidn’tknow,either,whattherewastoescapeinto.Noother world for the inhabiting suggested itself as an alternative to the armour-plated reality you had always been told was the inevitable, the only possible,version of existence. At the verymost, that summer, a sort of loosening in thefabricofthingswasdiscernible.Thenewspapershadbecomejustalittlebitmoreunpredictable.Butthebirdsweresinging.It had sounded simple enough, city boy that he was. He was working in

Sobinka,amilltownahundredkilometresorsooutofMoscowontheVladimirline.Thebook-keeping jobhe’d taken till his appointment to theCommittee forLabourbegandidn’tusemuchofhisbrain.Hespentalotoftimegazingoutofthewindowatasprayofdustywillowherbnoddingup-down,up-down,up-downinthehotgreentorporofAugust.Whenhecouldhecadgedphonecallstohisfiancéebackinthecity.‘I’mgoingtogoandvisitmyparentsaftertheexams,’shesaid.‘Whydon’tyoucomeandcollectmefromthevillagethisweekend?It’stimeyoumet them.They’re getting curious about their future son-in-law. I’ll boast aboutyou somemorebeforeyoucome…’OnSaturdaymorninghepackeda satchel,

and put on his best suit, a black broadcloth item with a rather English stripe,whichhebelievedgavehimasuccessfulair,particularlywhenpartneredwithadarkshirt.Forsure,itmadehimlooklikesomeonemakingtheirwayinlife.Hisfairhaircurledasthickasram’swoolathistemples,andhewouldhavehadthefaceofayoungboxerifitwasn’tforhisnarrowchin.Andhisnose.Hecarefullyspreadopentheshirtcollaronhislapels.Heputhisgrandfather’sgoldringonhisfinger.Thenhetookthescrapofpaperhe’dscribbledthevillage’snameon,andwenttotherailroadstation.Theclerkbehindthegrillehadtolookthenameupinadirectory.No,hesaid,

therewasn’tatrainthatwentthere.Heunfoldedatatteredmapoftheregion:‘Theplace youwant, it’s in here somewhere,’ he said, and his finger sketched out asurprisingly large blank space between two of the train lines raying out fromMoscow. ‘You’dbettergeta ticket toAlexandrovskanddo the restbybus.’AtAlexandrovskhefoundthebusdepotattheendofastreetoflittlepaintedplasterhousessagginginthesun.‘Where?’saidthegirlinthekiosk.Shecalledoverthedriver of a bus parked in the shade.When he heard the name of the village helaughed, showinggappy teeth. ‘Youwant togo there?Mister, you couldwait alongtimeforabus.Onaccountof therebeingnoroad.’‘Whatdoyoumean,noroad?’saidEmil.‘I’msorry,’saidthedriver,grinning.‘Therejustisn’t.It’sprettymarshyover there,andtheonlywayin isa trackalongthetopof thedyke.Youcan get a tractor in there, but not much else.’ ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Emil.‘Moscow is only half an hour up the line. We’re practically in the suburbs.’‘Nevertheless,’saidthedriver.HedroppedEmiloffatacorneroutinthecountrywhere themetalled road turneda rightangleand the trackbegan. ‘Yousee?’hesaid,pointingatapairofwheelrutsthatwaveredawayintogreendistance.‘Justfollowthem.It’snine,tenkilometres.’Thebusleft,gearsgrinding.Emilhoistedhissatchelandsetoff.Therutsmustbedeepsumpsofmudwhen

it rained. Now they were filled with dry white dust, which stirred up in littlecloudsashesteppedalong,andsettled,powdery,onthetallgrasses.Itwasveryquiet.Heheard thegrassswishagainsthis legsashewalked,andnotahuman-made sound besides. Not a thread of speech in the air, not an engine in thedistance, not a plane in the sky. For all the signs of it that there were here,Moscowmightaswellhavebeenhundredsofkilometresaway,thousands,insteadof justover thehorizon.Suddenly itwashard tobelieve itevenexisted.Ashisearsadjusted,newsoundsdeclared themselves.Chirr,chirrwentunseeninsectsinthegrass.Everytimeheputafootdown,itmutedtheinsectsinacircleroundaboutit,asifhehadadiscofsilenceattachedtoeachleg,butthemomenthe’dpassedtheystartedupagain.Intheair,doppleredstrandsofsongflitteredby.Hehadnoideawhatthedartingbirdswerecalled,buthepresumedthatthesewould

bethebirdsthatpoetrynamed,thelarks,thethrushes.Anditwashot.My,itwashot. The air baked. The skywas a dome of blue, so dark, sometallic-looking,you’dthinkyoucouldhavebeatenitlikeagong.Thesunblazedstraightoverhead,apparentlyfixedinplace.Itshonedownsowhitelythattheoccasionalclumpsoftrees along the path stood in puddles of shadow which seemed blue-green incontrast. Sweat trickled fromEmil’s hairline to his collar. From somewhere, acoupleoffliespresentedthemselves,andkepthimcompanyinzizzingorbits.The only countryside he knew was the view from a train window. It was

different being amidst it.Thepath ran along the topof a lowcauseway, only ametreorsohigh,andtoleftandrighttherespreadoutawidefloorforthebigskyoverhead.Thegroundroseabit,offtotheleft,andastandoftreesdarkenedthehorizonoverthere,butyoucouldn’tcallitahill,itwasjustawrinkleonthefaceofearth.Grainwasstandinginthefieldsthecausewaycrossed,givingoffahotstrawsmell.Insomeplaces,thewheatstoodalltoattention,inburlymasses.Inothersitfellaboutasifithadbeentrampled,orasifsmalllocalwhirlwindshadblownuponit.Ahead,though,itwasgettingsteadilythinnerandsicklier-looking,the ripeyellowblendedmoreandmorewithagreen like thegreenof thegrassalongthecauseway,onlybrighter.Toobright,infact;gettingtowardtheunhealthybrightnessofthegreenslimeontopofastagnantpool.Andafterapairofdykescrossed the route of the causeway at right angles,with a ragged drainage ditchbetween, the crops stopped altogether, and the bright, sick green took over,glistening on ground thatwas evidently as unstable as jelly. Puddles appeared,spread,joinedintoshallowsheetsofwaterreflectingthesky.Arotten,compostyvapour rose round him.The birdsong dwindled.He lost a fly and gained somemosquitoes.Thesunhammereddown.Ifanythingitwashotter,nowtheairwasdamp.His

hair stuck to his head like a helmet. Time for a rest. Fortunately he’d had thepresenceofmindtobuyadrinkatthekiosk.Hepulledoutthebottleanddroppedtothegrass.Instantlyamosquitobithim.Kvasswasnothisfavouritedrink,andtheyeastyliquidwaslukewarm,buthechuggeditallgratefully,hisadam’sapplepumpingupanddown.Thenhe leantbackonhishands andbreathed.Moisturetrickledthroughhissystem.Hewassogladofit, it tookhimawhiletoprocesswhathewasseeing,ashegazeddownthelengthofhisbody.Thenhegroanedoutloud: a long, miserable, animal noise, like a dog in pain.Walking through theknee-highgrasshadcoatedhissuittrousersalmosttothekneewiththedust,inathickclinginglayer.Hescrubbedatthematerial,buthisdamphandsonlyturnedthedusttomuddysmears.Hestoodup:thedusthadcoveredhisbacksidetoo,andthebackofhis thighs.Itwaseverywhere.Itwaseverywhere,andhewasinthemiddleofamarsh,inthemiddleofafuckingswamp,withadustypathbehindand

adustypathinfront.Withkilometresmoreofthefuckingstufftocome.Hetwistedhisheadround.Asfarastheeyecouldsee,theworldwasvacantof

humanlife.‘Shit!’heshoutedatthetopofhisvoice.‘Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit!’Ahundredmetresaway,awaterbirdsuddenlytookoff,disturbedbythenoise.‘Ohshit,’hesaidtohimself.Hewalkedon.What elsewas there todo?Atevery stepa littlemoreof the

MoscowRegionlovinglytransferreditselfontohim,andthemixtureofdustandsweatmadehimdirtieranddirtier.By the timehearrivedhewould look likeascarecrow.Afterawhile,hefeltbetter.Hehadoutwalkedhislosttemper,walkeditawayintheendlesslyrepeatinghissofthegrassagainsthislegs.Aheadtheairsquiggled and wavered with heat. It really was peaceful out here, in a hot,annoying,bug-clouded,swamp-scentedkindofway.Therhythmofwalkinggaveeverything a calm regularity. He slapped at themosquitoes withoutmalice. Hecould feel his thoughts settling into place, with a widemargin of quiet aroundthem.Sotheimpressionhe’dwantedtomakewasruined:ohwell.Underthebigskyitdidn’tseemliketheendoftheworld.Herehewas,ploddingalongintheheat,andallhiseducationandallhisgoodprospectsdidn’tmakehimanylessahumanspeck,inchingacrossthewide,flatfloorofRussia.Afteranotherwhile,hestartedtolaugh.Letthisbealessontoyou,MrEconomist,hetoldhimself.Anytimeyougetimperious,anytimeyoustarttomistakethebigenclosingtermsyouuse for the actions and things they represent, just you remember this. Just yourememberthattheworldisreallysweatanddirt.But the descriptions of the world in economics were powerful. At least

potentiallytheywere.Thatwaswhathadmadehimstickstubbornlytothesubject,chance-found in the compulsory course onMarxist basics,when on the face ofthings itwas such an intellectual poor relation, such a neglected little annex ofpolitics. Politics gave the orders, in the economyof theUSSR, and economistswereallowedtofindreasonswhytheordersalreadygivenwereadmirable.Butthatwas going to change, he suspected.He believed that the SovietUnionwassoongoing toneedmore from its economists, because therewasmore to life–therewasmore to runningan economy– thangivingorders. Itmightdo for thebrute-force first stage of building an industrial base, butwhat came next surelyhad tobe subtler, surelyhad tobe adjusted to the richer andmore complicatedrelationships in the economy, here on the threshold of plenty. At college, ofcourse, everything had had to revolve around Stalin’s little book EconomicProblemsofSocialism.Theystudieditasifitwereholywrit,althoughyoucouldsearch in vain in there for any ‘problems’ at all, in the sense of specific,unresolved issues looking for solutions. TheWorld’sGreatestMarxist was not

enthusiastic about the unknown. Indeed, he mocked the idea that planning aneconomy required any intellectual engagement with it; maybe any intellectualeffortinitself,atall.Getthechainofcommandright,Stalinseemedtobesaying,build it on the right ideological principles, and all that was left was a fewtechnical details, a little bit of drudgery to be carried out by the comrades atGosplanwith the addingmachines. But Emil, pursuing the elusivewhatever-it-wasthathadexcitedhiminthefirstplace,hadalsobeenandreadsomeMarx.Noonecouldstopyou.Thedull-redvolumesof theCollectedWorkswereallovertheplace.AndwhileMarxdidn’tsaymuchabouteconomicsaftertherevolution,hedidinsistentlynamethestatehepromisedwascoming,athistory’shappyend.Hecalled it ‘consciouslyarrangedsociety’.Acting together,humanbeingsweregoingtoconstructfortheworldawealth-producingapparatusthatfarexceededinefficiencytheapparatusthatformedadhoc,bydefault,wheneveryonechaoticallyscrabbledforsurvival.Ifthisweretrue,ifthisweretrulythegoal,Emilcouldnotfor the life of him see how the design of the economy could be an unimportantafterthought. He couldn’t see how the transformation Marx predicted could beanythingbutataskthatrequiredeveryscrapofasociety’sdeliberateintelligence,every reserve it had of analytical subtlety, every resource it possessed ofcreativity.Thiswasthetaskoftheagestheyweretalkingabout:history’shighest,hardest achievement. ‘Consciously arranged society’ demanded consciousarranging,andconsciousarrangerstodoit.He looked at economics, and he saw the source which would soon have to

supplythem.True,thetoolseconomistsshoulduseforthetaskweren’tclearyet.He had the sense, at themoment, of groping for intellectual support, of castingabout and dimly receiving a hint here, a hint there. Like a radio techniciandelicately picking signals out of background static, he’d learned to recognisevoices worth listening to, voices that meant something distinct even when theyusedthesamecompulsorywordsaseveryoneelse.Hereandthere,peoplewerespeakingwithsecretpassion.Hereandthere,economistswerestartingtotalktobiologistsandmathematicians,andtothescholarsbuildingelectroniccalculatingmachines.Ifyouknewwheretolook,severaldifferentlinesofnewthoughtwerestirring,seeminglyallpointedincontrarydirections,but(hebelieved)reallydueto fuse, soon, into theknowledge theyweregoing toneed.Foreconomics,afterall,wasatheoryofeverything.Itwantedtoexplainthewholeofhumanactivity.The world was sweaty, the world was dusty, but it all made sense, becausebeneaththethousandthousandphysicaldifferencesofthings,economicssawonesubstance which mattered, perpetually being created and destroyed, beingdistributed, being poured from vessel to vessel, and in the process keeping thewhole of human society in motion. It wasn’t money, this one common element

shining through all its temporary disguises; money only expressed it. It wasn’tlaboureither,thoughlabourcreatedit.Itwasvalue.Valueshoneinmaterialthingsonce labourhadmade themuseful,and then theycould indeedbeusedor,sincevaluegave theworldacommondenominator, exchanged forotheruseful things;whichmightlookasdissimilarfromoneanotherasatrainedelephantdidfromacutdiamond,andconsequentlyashardtocompare,yetwhich,justthen,containedequalvalue for theirpossessors, theproofbeing that theywerewilling tomaketheexchange.Thiswastruetheworldover,ineverykindofeconomy.ButMarxhaddrawna

nightmare picture of what happened to human life under capitalism, wheneverythingwasproducedonlyinordertobeexchanged;whentruequalitiesandusesdroppedaway,andthehumanpowerofmakinganddoingitselfbecameonlyan object to be traded. Then the makers and the things made turned alike intocommodities,andthemotionofsocietyturnedintoakindofzombiedance,agrimcavortingwhirlinwhichobjectsandpeopleblurredtogethertilltheobjectswerehalfaliveandthepeoplewerehalfdead.Stock-marketpricesactedbackupontheworld as if theywere independent powers, requiring factories to be opened orclosed,realhumanbeingstoworkorrest,hurryordawdle;andthey,havinggiventhetransfusionthatmadethestockpricescomealive,felttheirfleshgocoldandimpersonal on them, mere mechanisms for chunking out the man-hours. Livingmoneyanddyinghumans,metalastenderasskinandskinashardasmetal,takinghands,anddancinground,andround,andround,withnowayeverofstopping;thequickenedandthedeadened,whirlingon.ThatwasMarx’sdescription,anyway.And what would be the alternative? The consciously arranged alternative? Adanceofanothernature,Emilpresumed.Adancetothemusicofuse,whereeverystepfulfilledsomerealneed,didsometangiblegood,andnomatterhowfastthedancers spun, they moved easily, because they moved to a human measure,intelligibletoall,chosenbyall.Emilgaveahopandshuffleinthedust.Was that something in the distance? A little dark blob had appeared on the

causewayupahead,andanewtendrilofsoundwascurlingitswayfromittohisear:thesoundofamotor.Emilwavedhishandhighoverhishead,andpickedupthepace.Shk-shk-shksaidthegrassesbrisklyagainsthislegs.Theblobfattenedin the pulsing air, got louder, was a tractor. A long-faced middle-aged man inoverallswasdriving it.His fiancéewassittingon themetalarchover thebackwheel.‘Wewerestartingtowonderwhereyou’dgotto,’shesaid,hoppingdown,‘so

Poppaborrowed–goodgrief,whyonearthdidyouwearasuit?’‘Well, somebody didn’t mention that they lived on the other side of a

hippopotamuswallow.Sothisisyourdad?’

Thedrivergrunted.Hewassquintingagainstthesun,andhisweather-reddenedbrowswereclenchedtogether,soitwashardtotellifhewasactivelyfrowningatEmilornot,buthewascertainlynotsmiling.‘Hello,’saidEmil,andhelduphishandtobeshaken.Hehadtosqueezepast

the tractor’s front wheel to reach. Magda’s father took it for an instant andreleasedit.‘I’mafraidI’malldusty,’Emilsaid.‘ShouldIclimbup,orfollowyouback?Areyouturninground?’‘Where?’saidthedriver.‘Noroom.Gottogobackinreverse.’‘Comeroundthesideandstepuponthat,’saidMagda,pointing.‘Comeon–

it’snotlikegettingdirtonacarseat.’The tractor only grated along, driven backwards, but itwas twice as fast as

he’d beenwalking, and after twentyminutes of engine noise too loud for easyspeech, the ground lost its gelatinous shine, and the causewaymergedwith theslowriseofanothermodesthill.Thereweretreesonitsbrow,andthecorrugatedironshedofaMachine-TractorStation,wherehisfather-in-law-to-beparkedtheirride,slippingacoupleofcigarettestothetechnicianonduty.Theothersideofthehill was in shade, now that the sun had crossed the zenith. Here the trackdescendedagain,tothecurveofacreekwhichseemedtodrainthemarshinthisdirection.Itflowedslowandbrown.Therewasawater-meadowbeyondit,andalineoftallbirches.Woodenhouseswerescatteredhiggledy-piggledydowntothewater’sedge.TheonlyhousesinthecountryEmilhadeverreallylookedathadbeendachas;

these appeared to be constructed on the same general plan, only thewoodwasold,notnew,and thewallswere thick,not thin,andwhere the linesofadachamadeatrimsummerysketchintheairthelinesofthesehousessaggedheavily,asiftheylefttheearthwithreluctance.Tracesofancientcolourclungtotheshutters,like the last streaks of dried skin and gristle stuck in the creases of old bones.They were lairs, burrows. Sunflowers leaned over the crooked palisades ofgardenplots.Brokentoolsandpiecesofrustymetallayinthelonggrass.‘Well, this is home,’ saidhis fiancée. ‘Or itwashome.’Her fatherhadgone

ahead,shoutingthatthey’darrived.Theystrolleddownhilltogetherintheblissfulshadow.Agrannyatadoorstepgazedatthemastheypassed.Aboyofabouteightbeltedroundthecornerofahouseandstoppeddead,ajack-rabbitarrestedbythesightofsomethingterrifying.‘Heythere,’saidEmil.Hescrubbedagainathisjacket,thengaveup.‘Feelsalittlestrangetocomeback?’heasked.‘Strangereverytime.’Emil could imagine that. Even seeing her with the low shingle roofs of the

village houses around her, he still instinctively believed that her natural

environmentmustbeurban,sodeftlyathomeinthecityshehadseemedtobe,soconfidentlyembeddedinitspossibilities,whenhefirstranintoheronthecampus,grey scarf matching her grey eyes, under the giant spire of the new universitytower.Knowingherhadplayedalargepartinhisownpleasurablesensethathewas turning into aMuscovite.Now she had invited him to seewhat had comebefore the poise. Shewas nervous, he could see, but therewas also a kind ofappeal in her look. She would like it, he thought, if he were able to showsomehow that in his eyes this new part of herwasn’t a totalmystery,wasn’t acompletesurprise.Butthetruthwasthathehadnoideawhatlifecouldhavebeenlikeforher,growinguphere.Hedidn’tquitebelievetheplacewasreal.ItlookedlikethesetforsomeChekhovstoryofcountrylife.Hekeptexpectingahospitablesquire or amelancholy doctor to pop up and start talking about his gooseberrypatch.‘Idon’tthinkyourfatherlikesmemuch,’hesaid.‘Give him a chance,’ saidMagda. ‘Men in suits alwaysmean trouble, in his

experience.Nothinggoodcomesfromthecity.’‘Well,’Emilsaid,nettled,‘apartfrommanufacturedgoods,youmean.And,you

know,progress,andculture,andcivilisation.’‘Ohyes?’shesaid.‘Thisisthevillagestore.Lookinhere.’Totheleftofthetrack,ashedhadthreestepsuptoasidedoorwithatinsign

nailedoverthelintel.Obediently,Emilpressedhisnoseagainsttheglasspaneinthe bolted door. Through dingy glass, he couldmake out a counter, and a shelfbehindit.Theshelfwasagraveyardforflies.Thatwasitsmainfunction;butatone end, as an afterthought, some rusty cans of kerosene had been stacked, andblocksofsugarwrappedinbluepaper.‘There’sasupplyproblem,’hesaiduncertainly.‘No,’shesaid,‘thereisn’t.’‘But–’‘There isn’t,’ she said. ‘This is the back of the queue, that’s all.Always the

backofthequeue.Comeon,Icanseemymother.’Twistingherhands,athingrey-hairedwomanlikeabeaten-downversionofhis

fiancéewaswaitinginadoorwaywithaclusterofotherpeoplearoundher,andmore people drifting into place between the houses to gawp, all silent, allunashamedlyfixedonthespectacleEmilwasproviding.Atthefrontofthegroupa sallow man in shirt and braces was standing with his arms crossed, anexpressionofbafflementonafacelikeasweatingcheese.‘Welcome, Mister, welcome –’ began Magda’s mother, but the sallow man

interrupted.‘You’rethestudent,right?’hesaid.

‘Pletkinthemanager,’murmuredMagda.‘Moreorless,’saidEmil.‘Yes.’‘You could have phoned the kolkhoz office.No need to’vewalked, someone

likeyou,daylikethis.I’d’vepickedyouup.’‘That’skindofyou,’saidEmil.‘No problem,’ said Pletkin. ‘After all, not every day, meet the young man’s

goingtomarryourclevergirlhere.’Thewordswerefriendlybutthetonewasontheedgeof surly.Pletkin,Emil saw,was ina stateofcognitivedissonance.Hewassetuptoreceivesomewell-connectedstriplingfromthecity,andinsteadhewas having to make his obliging little speech, in front of all his people, tosomeonewholookedlikeatramp.‘He’mcoveredinshit!’saidanoldmanwhocameupnofurtherthanthemiddle

ofEmil’schest. ‘Magda’sboyfromthecity,he’mcovered inshit!’Hebegan towheezewith laughter.Hisnextneighbour–beard, ragsofaRedArmy jacket–reached out and slapped him round the head with the mild exasperation ofsomeonecloutingamalfunctioningradio.Emilblinked,butPletkinbrightened,asif he had been provided with an axiom he could trust: no one important iscoveredinshit.‘Don’tmindgrandadthere,’hesaid.‘ButI’vegottosay,son,youareahellofa

mess.Comeondowntotheofficeandhaveawash.Allthehomecomforts.Youwon’tfindanyofthatinthere,youknow’–jerkinghisthumbatthedarkdoorofthehut.‘Thanks,’saidEmil,‘butI’mexpected.’‘Suityourself,’saidPletkin.‘Changeyourmind,wantsomehotwater,comeon

over.Right,everyonewho’snotinthishappygathering,clearoff.There’sworktodo.’Andheambledaway,scratchinghisarmpit.Emilsawthathehadarolled-upnewspapertuckedintothestrainingequatorofhispants,likeaholsteredweapon.Judgingbytheheadline,itwasthedaybeforeyesterday’s.Prick,thoughtEmil;buthe also felt a pang of anxiety as Pletkin left him to the closed faces of thevillagers.ForamomentevenMagda’sseemedtobesealedawayfromhimintounfriendlystrangeness.Itwasthereverseofwhathehadfeltonlyafewminutesbefore. He was suddenly afraid he wouldn’t be able to find the city girl in avillagegirl’sface.‘Mister, welcome, you’re most welcome,’ said Magda’s mother, who had

evidently rehearsed her line and needed to say it. ‘Welcome to the house andwelcometothefamily.Won’tyoucomeinandtakealittledrink.’‘It’sapleasuretomeettoyou.Please,callmeEmil,’saidEmil,andtheystood

asideandlethimin.Inside,thehousewasaclutterofshadows,slowlyresolvingintowooden furniture and objects dangling from low rafters.Also, he couldn’t

help noticing, the house smelled,with the strongodours of humans living closetogether, laid down in layers over time and engrained in the woodwork, heguessed,tothepointthatyou’dprobablyhavetoburntheplacedownaltogethertodislodge the laminated fug of sweat and smoke and humanwaste. That blur ofpaintedglassandtinplateovertheremustbeanicon,thefirstEmilhadeverseenthatwasn’tinamuseum.Otherfigurescrowdedthroughthedoor,blockingoffthelight:Magda, her father, the oldman, the fellowwho’d slapped him.His eyeswerestilladjusting.Magda’smotherseatedhimatthetableandinfrontofhimputa jamjar two-thirds filledwith something clear. Themen sat down opposite, agrimlynervoustribunal.‘Myfatheryou’vemet,’saidMagda.‘Mygrandfather;mybigbrotherSasha.’Theygotjarstoo.Emilsniffedhis,tryingnottobenoticed.Itwasn’twater.‘Homebrew,’Magdamutteredinhisear.‘Asocialnecessity.Drinkup.’Emil tipped amouthful into himself, cautiously.The cautionwas pointless: a

tideofalcoholicfireflowedinacrosshistongue,hithisuvulawithasplashandburneditswaydownhisthroat.Aftertheburncameafiercelywarmafterglow,inwhichitbecamepossibletotastewhathe’djustswallowed.Itwasfaintlysoapy,faintly stale.However theymade it, the homebrewmust be getting on for purealcohol,muchstrongerthanbottledvodka.‘Good stuff,’ he said, and was pleased to find his voice was steady, not

comicallyscorched.‘Atoast,’hesaid,andheldupthejamjar.‘Tojourney’sendandnewbeginnings.’Tohimself,hesoundedplainly fake;as theatricalassomeperfect-vowelled stage actor hamming the part of the son-in-law from themetropolis.But theyseemedto like it.Theynodded,andgulpedgravelyat theirjars. He gulped again too, and while he was recovering from the tide of fire,Magda’smother deftly topped him up from an ancient jerrycan,whichwas notwhat he’d had in mind. A tin plate of sunflower seeds appeared. Magda washoveringbehindhimsomewhere.Hecouldfeelherironicgazeonhisneck.‘Tomarriage,then,’saidMagda’sfather.Swig.‘Yeah, to the bride and groom,’ said Sasha. Swig. Come on, this is better,

thoughtEmil,thisisgoingtobeOK.‘ToChristandhissaints,’saidhergrandfather.Silence.‘Grandadhereisgettingabitconfused,’offeredMagda’smother.‘Softinthehead,’agreedSasha,grinningwithfurybehindhisteeth,andlifteda

hand.‘I don’t mind drinking to that,’ Emil said hastily. ‘It’s what my grandfather

says,’hesaid,thoughitwasn’t,hisgrandfatherhavingbeenbroughtup,longago,asagoodKazanMuslim.Swig.Waryeyeseverywhere.‘Itoldyou,’saidMagdafromtheshadows.‘Emilisallright.’

‘I hope I am,’ he said, a little approximately. He was feeling the firewater.Various things inside him seemed to be comingunscrewed, desocketed. ‘I hopeI’llbeabletodoyousomegood,youknow,nowthatI’minthefamily.’‘How’sthat?’saidMagda’sfather.‘Tellthemwhereyourjob’sgoingtobe,’saidMagda.‘Well…’hesaid.Ithadseemedmuchlesscertainathingtoboastabout,since

hearrivedinthevillage;butshewasinsistent.‘Goon,tellthem.’‘Well,comeSeptember,I’llbeworkingfor,for’–noneedtogetintothedetail

ofthebureaucracy–‘theCentralCommittee.’‘What,’saidherfatherslowly,‘like,atthedistrictoffice?’‘Er,no–’beganEmil,butMagdainterrupted.‘HemeanstheCentralCommittee.OftheSovietUnion.’Silence. Magda’s dad looked at him as if he had just lost whatever

comprehensibilityhemighteverhavehad;asifhehadjustbeentransformedintosomedangerousmythologicalcreature, right thereat the table.ButSashagavealong,lowwhistle.‘Don’tyouget it?’hesaidtohisfather.‘We’regoingtohaveafrienduptop.

Rightuptop.’‘Family,’correctedMagda.Sasha grinned, properly this time, teeth gleaming in his beard. ‘Oh,’ he said,

‘Pletkinisgoingtoshithimself.’Caressingly:‘Heisgoing.To.Shithimself.Whydidn’tyou tellhim, justnow?Youcouldhavewiped the floorwithhim, the fatfucker.’‘Idon’tknow,’saidEmil.‘IsupposeIdidn’twanttoembarrasshim.Ithought

hemight,youknow,takeitoutonyouallsomehow.’‘Nah,’saidSasha,thinkingaboutit,‘toocowardly.Don’tworryabouthim.Oh,

thisisgoingtobesosweet.C’mon,ma,givehimarefill.’Swig.Swig.‘I was thinking,’ said Emil, ‘that I could get you stuff from the shops. In

Moscow.And later, youknow, thatmaybe I coulddo something to fix the shophere.Idon’tquitegetwhyit’slikethat.’Hedidn’t.Theshopshouldhavebeenthevillage’sconnectiontothegeneralmovementoftheSovieteconomy,thepointatwhich the value they created – since they were independent producers, albeitcollectivisedones–flowedbacktothemintheformofgoods.‘Likewhat?’saidMagda’sfather.‘Emilhasneverbeenanywhereofftheroadbefore,’explainedMagda.‘For instance,’ saidEmil, ‘I’msorry, Idon’tmean tobe rude,but Idon’t see

how it canpossiblyabsorbyour incomes.Wouldyoumind tellingmewhatyou

earn?’‘Howmuchdoyouwantustobeearning?’askedMagda’sfathersuspiciously.‘Dad,it’sallright.It’sreallyallright.Youcantalktohim.’And they did, in dribs and drabs,withmany swigs of homebrew tomoisten

them,asifhewereaprinceindisguise,travellingwithachestofgoldtorewardthevirtuousandput-upon.Theytalkedtohim,andhewasappalled.Theanswertohisquestionwas,literally,kopecks.Atthepricethestatepaidforthewheattheylaboured six days aweek to grow, nothingwas left in Pletkin’s account-books,effectively,topaythemawage.Cashcame,ifitcame,fromsellingthevegetablesfromtheprivateplotsbehindthehuts,atthekolkhoznikmarketinAlexandrovsk.Their relationship to the state was not an economic relationship at all; it wasprimitive extraction. It was very nearly robbery. Something must be done.Fortunately,hewas theman todo it.Thiswasa task forconsciousarrangers ifevertherewasone.‘Don’tworry,’hesaid.Swig.‘I’llsortitout.’‘Yes,brother,’saidSasha.Itseemedtobeeveningnow.Magda’smotherwaslightingoillamps.Anumber

ofpeople cameandwent, butEmil found it safest to concentrateon the lamplitwoodentabletopjustinfrontofhim.‘Goon,Grandad,giveusastory,’someonesaid.‘How’syourmemorytonight?

Gotawholeoneinthere?’‘Well,I’lltry,’saidtheoldmandoubtfully.‘Inthethrice-ninthkingdomofthe

thrice-tenthland,therelivedapoormanwhohad,uh,amiraculoushorse.No,heboughtthemiraculoushorse,heboughtitwith…Orwasitamiraculouswifehehad?Dammit,Iusedtoknowallof’em.No,it’sgone.I’lltellyouwhat,though,’hesaid,‘Icansingyouasongfromthatfillumthefellowwiththevanshowedus.’Andhe launched quaveringly into a tuneEmil just about recognised as the titlesongfromtheoldmusical,‘TheHappy-Go-LuckyGuys’.‘Didsomethingbadhappenhere?’askedEmil,muzzily.Sashalaughed.Magda

leanedtowardshim,herfaceapinkwhirlatthefarendofatunnel.‘Areyouallright?’sheasked.Hewasallright,hewasveryallright.Hadn’t

theycovered thatearlier? In facthewashavinganewidea.Hewas thinking tohimselfthataneconomytoldakindofstory,thoughnotthesortyouwouldfindinanovel. In this story,manyof themajor characterswouldnever evenmeet,yettheywould act on each other’s lives just as surely as if they jostled for spaceinsideasinglehouse,throughthelongchainsbywhichvaluemovedabout.Tinydecisionsinoneplacecouldhavecascading,gianteffectselsewhere;conversely,whatmostabsorbed theconsciousattentionof thecharacters–whatbroke theirhearts,what they thought ordered or justified their lives –might have no effect

whatsoever,dyingawayasifithadneverhappenedatall.Yetimpersonalforcescould have drastically personal consequences, in this story, altering the wholebasisonwhichpeoplehopedandlovedandworked.Itwouldbeastrangestorytohear. At first it would seem to be a buzzing confusion, extending arbitrarily indirectionsthatseemedtohavenothingtodowitheachother.Butlittlebylittle,ifyouwerepatient, itspeculiar lawswouldbecomeplain. In theend itwouldallmakesense.Yes,thoughtEmil,itwouldallmakesenseintheend.

Notes–I.4WhiteDust,1953

1Forhimthebeginningwas thedayhewalkedto thevillage:EmilShaidullin’swalk tohis in-laws in1953 is a fictional embroidery on the similar journey taken by Abel Aganbegyan, and described in hisMovingtheMountain.The events ofEmil’swalk shouldnot be readback toProfessorAganbegyan’s,any more than Emil’s character, throughout this book, should be taken as a portrait of ProfessorAganbegyan.

2Stalin’slittlebook:J.V.Stalin,EconomicProblemsofSocialismintheUSSR,Englishedition (Moscow:ForeignLanguagesPublishingHouse,1952).

3AndwhileMarxdidn’tsaymuchabouteconomicsaftertherevolution:formostofwhathedidsayaboutit,seeRobertFreedman,ed.,MarxonEconomics(NewYork:HarcourtBrace,1961),pp.229–41.

4Hereand there , economistswere starting to talk tobiologists andmathematicians: for this first,semi-clandestinestageintheconversationofthedisciplineswhichwouldproduceSovietcybernetics,whichwas not quite the same thing as Western cybernetics, see Slava Gerovitch, From Newspeak toCyberspeak:AHistoryofSovietCybernetics(Boston:MITPress,2002).

5Foreconomics,afterall,wasatheoryofeverything:forareadablenarrativehistoryofthediscipline’shistoryanduniversal ambitions, seeRobertL.Heilbroner, TheWorldlyPhilosophers:TheLives, TimesandIdeasoftheGreatEconomicThinkers,4thedn(NewYork:SimonandSchuster,1971).Foramuchmore intricate and specific (but still narrative) study of the ambitions that seemed to be enabled byeconomics’encounterwith informationtechnologyin thepost-war twentiethcentury,seePhilipMirowski,MachineDreams:EconomicsBecomesaCyborgScience(Cambridge:CUP,2002).

6Value shone inmaterial thingsonce labourhadmade themuseful: the ‘labour theory of value’, asoriginatedbyAdamSmithandpassedviaDavidRicardotoMarx.Sovieteconomiststendedtobeawareofpre-Marxianclassicaleconomics,atleastintheformofcitationsandsummaries,butnotthepost-Marxiandevelopmentof it.The‘marginalist revolution’of the latenineteenthcenturywas littleknown,andwith itthe characteristic mathematical formalisations of Western economics. Those who were well-enoughinformedtoknowaboutthe‘socialistcalculationdebate’(seebelow,introductiontopartII)wereconsciousthat theirproposalsforoptimalassetallocationpresupposedaWalrasianmodelofgeneralequilibrium,butParetowas reputedonlyasaquasi-fascist, andKeynesasonemore ‘bourgeois apologist’,whose fancyfootworkcouldnotdisguisetheunchangingoperationsofcapital,asdiagnosedonceandforeverbyMarx.ForMarx’sformulationofthelabourtheory,seeFreedman,ed.,MarxonEconomics,pp.27–63;LeszekKolakowski,MainCurrents ofMarxism:TheFounders, theGoldenAge, theBreakdown, translatedfrom the Polish by P.S.Falla, one-volume edition (New York: W.W.Norton, 2005), pp. 219–26. For thequestion of what Soviet economists knew, see Aganbegyan, Moving the Mountain; Joseph Berliner,‘EconomicReformintheUSSR’inJohnW.Strong,ed.,TheSovietUnionunderBrezhnevandKosygin(NewYork:VanNostrandReinhold,1971),pp.50–60;AronKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR(NewYork:Pergamon,1980);AlexSimirenko,ed.,Soviet Sociology(London:RKP,1967).ForageneralexplorationofwhatSovietintellectualsunderKhrushchevknewabouttheworld,seeRobertEnglish,RussiaandtheIdeaoftheWest:Gorbachev,Intellectuals,andtheEndoftheColdWar(NewYork:ColumbiaUniversityPress,2000).

7ButMarxhaddrawnanightmarepicture:forMarx’svisionofthealienateddanceofthecommodities,and its philosophical roots and imaginative implications, see EdmundWilson,To the Finland Station: A

StudyintheWritingandActingofHistory(NewYork,1940),ch.15,andKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,pp.226–74.

8Machine-TractorStation:theruraldepots,withtheirownspecialisedworkforce,wheretheequipmentformechanised farmingwas kept (untilKhrushchev disastrously sold themachinery to the collective farms,whichhadnobudgettomaintainit).ForthesorryhistoryofSovietagriculture,seeAlecNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR,1917–1991,finaledition(London,1992).

9It lookedlikethesetforsomeChekhovstory:specifically, ‘Peasants’, inAntonChekhov,The LadywiththeLittleDogandOtherStories,1896–1904,translatedbyRonaldWilks(London:Penguin,2004)–though Emil appears to be thinking of ‘Gooseberries’ in the same collection. See also Janet Malcolm,ReadingChekhov:ACriticalJourney (NewYork:RandomHouse,2001).AportraitofSovietpeasantlifemorecontemporarywithEmil’swalk(butnolessdepressing)isSolzhenitsyn’s‘Matryona’sHouse’,inMatryona’sHouseandOtherStories,translatedbyMichaelGlenny(London:Penguin,1975).

10AgoodKazanMuslim: the implicationhere is that, at least on his father’s side,EmilArslanovich is aTatar. Though in Russian stereotype a Tatar has the facial features of Genghis Khan, the MongolcontributiontotheTatargenepoolwasrathersmall,andblondTatarsarenotatallunusual:asagroup,theylargely resemble Bulgarians, with whom they share an ancestry. Kazan had possessed a Muslimintelligentsia forcenturies,butTatarswerenotoneof theminorities famous in theUSSRforeducationalmobility,likeJewsandArmenians,andtheywerenotverystronglyrepresentedintwentieth-centurySovietintellectual life, with exceptions such as the computer designer Bashir Rameev. Presumably, Emil’sreasonably comfortable family experience under Stalin means that his parents (at least Party middle-rankers,judgingbyhisownsharplyupwardcareertrajectory)successfullynegotiatedthesuddenreversalof Soviet ‘nationalities’ policy during the later thirties. For this, seeTerryDeanMartin,The AffirmativeAction Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1929–1939 (Ithaca NY: CornellUniversityPress,2001).Forafabulouslydismaldescriptionofpost-SovietKazan,seeDanielKalder,LostCosmonaut:TravelstotheRepublicsThatTourismForgot(London:Faber,2006).

11The title song from the old musical, ‘The Happy-Go-Lucky Guys’: see James von Geldern andRichardStites,eds,MassCultureinSovietRussia.Tales,Poems,Songs,Movies,PlaysandFolklore1917–1953(BloomingtonIN:Slavica,1995).

12‘Didsomethingbadhappenhere?’:seeRobertConquest,HarvestofSorrow:SovietCollectivisationandtheTerror-Famine (London:Pimlico,2002).Throughout thisbook, it isnecessary to remember that,oncertaincrucialpoints,mostpeopleintheSovietUnionwillhaveknownlessaboutitshistorythandoesanaveragely-informedWesternerinthetwenty-firstcentury.

Thatwastheflourish,justforfun–Therealtalehasnowbegun!

PARTII

Theproblemwas thatMarxhadpredicted thewrong revolution.Hehad saidthatsocialismwouldcome,notinbackwardagriculturalRussia,butinthemostdevelopedandadvanced industrialcountries: inEngland,orGermany,or theUnited States. Capitalism (he’d argued) created misery, but it also createdprogress, and the revolution that was going to liberatemankind frommiserywould only happen once capitalism had contributed all the progress that itcould, and all the misery too. At that point, there would be so much moneyinvestedbycapitalistsdesperatetokeeptheirprofitsup,thattheinfrastructureforproducingthingswouldhaveattainedastateofnear-perfection.Atthesametime,thesearchforhigherprofitswouldhavedriventhewagesoftheworkingclassdown to thepointofnear-destitution. Itwouldbeaworldofwonderfulmachinesandraggedhumans.Whenthecontradictionbecameunbearable,theworkerswouldact.Theywouldabolishasocialsystemthatwasabsurdlymoresavage and unsophisticated than the production lines in the factories. Andparadisewouldveryquicklyliewithintheirgrasp,becauseMarxexpectedthatthe victorious socialists of the future would be able to pick up the wholecompletedapparatusofcapitalism–allitsbeautifulmachinery–andcarryitforward into the new society, still humming, still prodigally producing, onlydoingsonowforthebenefitofeverybody,notforatinyclassofowners.Theremightbeaneedforabriefperiodofdecisivegovernmentduringthetransitionto the new world of plenty, but the ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’ Marximagined was modelled on the ‘dictatorships’ of ancient Rome, when therepublicwouldnowandagaindraftsomerespectedcitizentogiveordersinanemergency. The dictatorship of Cincinnatus lasted one day; then, havingextractedtheRomanarmyfromthemessitwasin,hewentbacktohisplough.The dictatorship of the proletariat would presumably last a little longer,perhaps a few years. And of course there would also be an opportunity toimproveonthesleektechnologyinheritedfromcapitalism,nowthatsocietyasawholewas pulling the levers of the engines of plenty. But it wouldn’t takelong. There’d be no need to build up productive capacity for the newworld.Capitalismhadalreadydone that.Verysoon, itwouldno longerbenecessaryeventoshareouttherewardsofworkinproportiontohowmuchworkpeopledid.Allthe‘springsofco-operativewealth’wouldflowabundantly,andanyonecould have anything, or be anything. No wonder that Marx’s pictures of thesocietytocomeweresorareandsovague:itwasgoingtobeanidyll,arathersoft-focusgentlemanly idyll, inwhich the inherited production lineswhirring

awayinthebackgroundallowedthehumansintheforegroundtoplay,‘tohuntinthemorning,fishintheafternoon,rearcattleintheevening,criticiseafterdinner,justasIhaveamind…’None of this was of the slightest use to the Marxists trying to run the

economy of Russia after 1917. The SovietUnion inherited very fewwhirringproductionlines.Marxistselsewhere,inthecountrieswheretherevolutionwassupposedtohavehappened,hadsettleddownovertheyearssinceMarx’sdeathas‘SocialDemocrats’,runningparliamentarypoliticalpartieswhichusedthevotesofindustrialworkerstogetexactlythekindofsocialimprovementsthatMarx had said were impossible under capitalism. Social Democrats stilldreamedofthesocialistfuture;buthereandnowtheywereinthebusinessofsecuringold-agepensions,unemployment insurance, freemedicalclinics,andkindergartens equipped with miniature pinewood chairs. Except in Russia,obscuredespoticRussia,whichhadtheoddestSocialDemocratsintheworld.With almost no industrial workers to represent, the Bolshevik (‘majority’)factionoftheRussianSocialDemocraticPartywasatiny,freakishcult,underthe thumb of a charismaticminor aristocrat, V.I.Lenin,who had developed adoctrineof theparty’s,andbyextensionhisown, infallibility.TheBolshevikshad no chance of influencing events, and certainly no chance at gettinganywherenearpoliticalpower,untiltheFirstWorldWarturnedRussiansocietyupsidedown.InthechaosandeconomiccollapsefollowingtheoverthrowoftheTsarbydisorganisedliberals,theywereabletousethedisciplineof thecult’smembership tomounta coupd’état–and then to finesse themselves into theleadershipofallthoseinRussiawhowereresistingthearmedreturnoftheoldregime. Suddenly, a small collection of fanatics and opportunists foundthemselves running the country that least resembledMarx’s description of aplace ready for socialist revolution. Not only had capitalist development notreacheditsclimaxofperfectionanddesperationinRussia;ithadbarelyevenbegun. Russia had fewer railroads, fewer roads and less electricity than anyotherEuropeanpower.Itstownswerestuntedlittlevenuesforthegentrytobuyriding boots. Most people were illiterate. Within living memory, the largemajorityofthepopulationhadbeenslaves.DespitethisabsenceofallMarx’spreconditions, the Bolsheviks tried anyway to get to paradise by the quickroute,abolishingmoneyandseizingfoodforthecitiesdirectlyatgunpoint.TheonlyresultsweretoerasethelittlebitofindustrialdevelopmentthathadtakenplaceinRussiajustbeforetheFirstWorldWar,andtocreatethefirstofmanyboutsofmassstarvation.Itbecameinescapablyclearthat,inRussia,socialismwasgoing tohave todowhatMarxhadneverexpected,and to carryout thetask of development he’d seen as belonging strictly to capitalism. Socialism

would have to mimic capitalism’s ability to run an industrial revolution, tomarshalinvestment,tobuildmodernlife.Socialismwouldhavetocompetewithcapitalismatdoingthesamethingsascapitalism.Buthow?Therewas in factan internationaldebate in the1920s,partlyprompted by

the Bolsheviks’ strange situation, over whether a state- run economy couldreally find substitutes for all of capitalism’s working parts. No, said theAustrian economist Ludwig vonMises, it could not: in particular, it couldn’treplacemarkets,andthemarketpricesthatmadeitpossibletotellwhetheritwas advantageous to produce any particular thing. Yes, it could, replied agradually expanding group of socialist economists. A market was only amathematical device for allocating goods to the highest bidder, and so asocialist state could easily equip itself with a replica marketplace, reducedentirelytomaths.Foralongtime,the‘marketsocialists’werejudgedtohavewontheargument.TheBolsheviks,however,paidverylittleattention.Marxhadnotthoughtmarketswereveryimportant–asfarashewasconcernedmarketprices just reflected the labour that had gone into products, plus somemeaninglessstatistical fuzz–andtheBolshevikswereminingMarx’sanalysisof capitalism for hints to follow. They were not assembling an elegantmathematical version of capitalism as described by its twentieth-centurytheorists. Theywere building a brutish, pragmatic simulacrum of whatMarxand Engels had seen in the boom towns of the mid-nineteenth century, inManchester when its skywas dark at noonwith coal smoke. And they didn’teasily do debate, either. In their hands, Marx’s temporary Roman-styledictatorship had become permanent rule by the Party itself, never to bechallenged, never to be questioned. There had been supposed to be a spacepreserved inside the Party for experiment and policy-making, but the policemethodsusedontherestofRussiansocietycreptinexorablyinward.Thespacefor safe talk shrank with the list of candidates to succeed Lenin as theembodimentofinfallibility,till,withStalin’svictoryoverthelastofhisrivals,it closed altogether, and the apparatus of votes, committee reports and‘discussionjournals’becamepurelyceremonious,akindoffetishofadepartedcivilisation. The only necessary ideas about economics – and the onlyacceptableones–were thoseembodied in theparticularprogrammeof crashindustrialisationonwhichStalinrosetototalpower.Theywerenotverycomplicated,theseideas.Until1928,theyearofStalin’s

‘Great Break’, the Soviet Union was a mixed economy. Industry was in thehandsofthestatebuttailors’shopsandprivatecafeswerestillopen,andfarmsstillbelongedtothepeasantfamilieswho’dreceivedthemwhentheBolsheviks

brokeupthegreatestates. Investment for industry, therefore,had tocome theslowway,by taxing the farmers;meanwhile the farmers’ incomesmade themdangerously independent, and food prices bounced disconcertingly up anddown. Collectivisation saw to all these problems at once. It killed severalmillionmorepeople in the short term, andpermanently dislocated the Sovietfoodsupply;butforcingthewholecountrypopulationintocollectivefarmsletthecentralgovernmentsetthepurchasepricespaidforcrops,andsoletittakeaslargeasurplusforinvestmentasitliked.Ineffect,allbutafractionoftheproceedsof farmingbecamesuddenlyavailableforindustry.Inthesameway,nationalising all shops and eating places allowed the state to take directcontroloftheproportionoftheUSSR’sincomethatwasspentonconsumption:and to lower it drastically, in favourof investment again.Thediverted fundswent to start the production lines going, to feed industries picked out forsuperfastgrowthinthenewFive-YearPlans.Whichindustries?Theheavyones,of course; the ones supplying goods like steel and coal and concrete andmachine tools,which in turncouldbeused tobootstrapother industries intoexistence.Marxhadhelpfullypointedoutthatcapitalisteconomiesgrowfastestwhen theyareproducing to expand theproductionbase itself. Stalin took thehint. Managers of plants turning out ‘producer goods’ were given dizzilyincreasing targets foroutput. If theymet them,bywhatevermeans theycouldcontrive,theywouldberewarded–andthetargetswouldincreasethenextyearbyanother leapandabound. If they failed tomeet them, they’dbepunished,often by death. When things went wrong, in Stalin’s industrial revolution,someonewasalwaystoblame.Betweenthem,thesepoliciescreatedasocietythatwasutterlyhierarchical.

Metaphysicallyspeaking,Russianworkersownedtheentireeconomy,withthePartyactingastheirproxy.Butinpractice,from8.30a.m.onMondaymorningto 6 p.m. on Saturday night, when the work week ended, they were expectedsimplytoobey.At theverybottomof theheapcametheprisoner-labourersoftheGulag. Stalin appears to have believed that, since according toMarx allvaluewascreatedbylabour,slavelabourwasatremendousbargain.Yougotallthatvalue,allthatArcticnickelminedandtimbercutandrailtracklaid,fornowages,justalittlemilletsoup.Thencamethecollectivefarmers,intheoryfree,effectively returned to the serfdom of their grandfathers, since they weren’tissuedwiththe internalpassportswhich they’dhaveneededever to leave thekolkhoz.Adecisivestepabovethem,inturn,cametheswellingarmyoffactoryworkers, almost all recent escapees or refugees from the land. It was not aneasyexistence,crowdedintosqualorincitiesbuiltforpopulationshalfthesize,systematicallydeprivedofconsumergoods,exposedtosplashingmoltenmetal

and unguarded machines that ripped off arms and legs. The spare incomeworkerscouldn’tspendwasrakedoffthroughcompulsory‘bondpurchases’andfedback into evenmore investment.Disciplineatworkwas enforced throughthecriminalcode.Arrivelatethreetimesinarow,andyouwerea‘saboteur’.Sentence:tenyears.Butfromthefactoryworkersonup,thiswasalsoasocietyinastateofvery

high mobility, with fairytale-rapid rises for those who could fill the Sovietstate’s insatiable hunger for skills. The economy needed whole categories oftrained people to spring into existence in the twinkling of an eye: teachers,nurses,doctors,chemists,metallurgists,pharmacists,electricians,telephonists,journalists, architects, designers, book-keepers, aviators, car drivers, truckdrivers, locomotive drivers, and engineers, engineers, engineers of everydescription.Everynewfactoryneededitscadreofmanagers,everylevelofthenewbureaucracieshandlingretailandfooddistributionneededitsofficestaff,everypartoftheapparatusofcontrolandsurveillanceneededitswhite-collarspecialists.Ifyoucouldfillaquota,ifyoucouldtalkthetalkconvincinglyaslaid down in Stalin’s Short Course, while negotiating the subtler personalpoliticsofthehierarchy,thenamiddle-classlifebeckonedinshortorder.Orsomethinggranderstill,especiallyonceStalinstartedpurgingaway all

theoriginalBolsheviks,andopenedupeveryjobbuthisowntotheambitious.You could go to work as a foreman in a textile plant in 1935, and be thecommissarforthewholetextileindustryfouryearslater:thatwasthefairytaleriseofAlexeiNikolaevichKosygin, forexample,whowillcomeintothisstorylater.You could be an ex-coalminerwith a gift of the gab and the knack ofmakingStalinfeelunthreatened,andgointwoyearsfromsemi- literateruralapparatchik to deputymayor ofMoscow. Thatwas the upward ride ofNikitaKhrushchev.Youcouldbe themayorofacityat twenty-five,aministerof thestateat thirty;andthen, ifyouwereunluckyormaladroit,acorpseat thirty-two,ormaybeaprisoner in thenickelmines, having slid from the topof theSoviet ladder right back down its longest snake. Butmishaps apart, life wasprettygoodupatthetop,withasalarytwentytimes,thirtytimesthewagesonthe shopfloor, as steep a relative reward as the spoils of any capitalistexecutive.There’dbeacarandacookandahousekeeper,anda furcoat forMrsRedPlentytowearwhenthefrostbit.There’dbeadachainthecountry,fromwhoseverandahthefavouredcitizencouldsurveythenewworldgrowingdownbelow.And itdidgrow. Itwasdesigned to.Marketeconomies,so faras theywere

‘designed’atall,by their institutionsand their laws,weredesigned tomatchbuyersandsellers.Theygrew,butonlybecausethesellersmightdecide,from

theeagernessofthebuyers,tomakealittlemoreofwhattheywereselling,orbecause thebuyersmightdecide to usewhat they’d bought to sell somethingelse.Growthwasn’tintrinsic.Itwasn’tintheessenceofamarketeconomythatit shouldalwaysdoa littlemore this year than it had last year.Theplannedeconomy, on the other hand, was created to accomplish exactly that. It wasexplicitlyanddeliberatelyaratchet,designedtoeffectaone-waypassagefromscarcitytoplentybysteppingupoutputeachyear,everyyear,yearafteryear.Nothingelsemattered:notprofit,not therateof industrialaccidents,not theeffectofthefactoriesonthelandortheair.Theplannedeconomymeasureditssuccess in terms of the amount of physical things it produced. Money wastreated as secondary, merely a tool for accounting. Indeed, there was aphilosophicalissueinvolvedhere,apointonwhichitwasimportantforSovietplannerstofeelthattheywerekeepingfaithwithMarx,evenifinalmosteveryother respect their post-revolutionaryworld parted companywith his. Theirswasasystemthatgenerateduse-valuesratherthanexchange-values,tangiblehuman benefits rather than the marketplace delusion of value turnedindependentandimperious.Forasocietytoproducelessthanitcould,becausepeople could not ‘afford’ the extra production, was ridiculous. By countingactualbagsofcementratherthanthephantomofcash,theSovieteconomywasvotingforreality,forthematerialworldasittrulywasinitself,ratherthanfortheideologicalhallucination.Itwasholdingto theplaintruththatmorestuffwasbetterthanless.InsteadofcalculatingGrossDomesticProduct,thesumofalltheincomesearnedinacountry,theUSSRcalculatedNetMaterialProduct,thecountry’stotaloutputofstuff–expressed,forconvenience,inroubles.ThismadeitdifficulttocompareSovietgrowthwithgrowthelsewhere.After

theSecondWorldWar,whenthenumberscomingoutoftheSovietUnionstartedtobecomemoreandmoreworryinglyradiant,itbecameamajorpreoccupationofthenewly-formedCIAtotrytotranslatetheofficialSovietfiguresfromNMPto GDP, discounting for propaganda, guessing at suitable weighting for thevalueofproductsintheSovietenvironment,subtractingitems‘double-counted’intheNMP,likethesteelthatappearedthereonceasitsnakednew-forgedself,twice when panel-beaten into an automobile. The CIA figures were alwayslowerthantheglowingstatsfromMoscow.Yettheywerestillworryingenoughto cause heart-searching among Western governments, and anxiouseditorialisinginWesternnewspapers,especiallyoncethelaunchofSputnik inOctober 1957 provided a neat symbol for backward Russia’s suddentechnologicallift-off.Forawhile,inthelate1950sandearly1960s,peopleintheWest felt the samemesmeriseddisquietover Soviet growth that theyweregoingtofeelforJapanesegrowthinthe1970sand1980s,andforChineseand

Indiangrowth fromthe1990son.Norwere they justbeingdeceived.Beneathseverallayersofvarnish,thephenomenonwasreal.SincethefalloftheSovietUnion,andtheopeningofitsarchives,historiansfrombothRussiaandtheWesthaverecalculatedtheSovietgrowthrecordonemoretime:andevenusingthemost pessimistic of these newest estimates, all lower again than both theKremlin’s numbers and theCIA’s, the SovietUnion still shows up as growingfaster, in the 1950s, than any other country in the world except Japan.Officially,theSovieteconomygrew10.1%ayear;accordingtotheCIA,itgrew7%a year; now the estimates range upwards from 5%a year. Thatwas stillenoughtosqueakpastWestGermany,theothergrowthstaroftheperiod,andtocruisepasttheUSaverageofaround3.3%ayearforthedecade.On the strength of this performance –which they probably valued at their

own,higherfigure–Stalin’ssuccessorssetaboutcivilisingtheirsavagegrowthmachine.Theprisoners(ormostofthem)werereleasedfromthelabourcamps.The collective farmers were allowed to earn incomes visible without amicroscope, and eventually given old-age pensions. Workers’ wages wereraised, and the salaries of the elite were capped, creating a much moreegalitarian spread of income. To compensate managers, the stick of terrordrivingthemwasdiscardedtoo:reportingabadyear’sgrowthnowmeantonlyalousybonus.Theworkdayshranktoeighthours,theworkweektofivedays.Themillions of families squeezed into juddering tsarist tenements, and dampex-ballroomssubdividedbywallsofcardboard,were finallyhoused inbrand-new suburbs. It was clear that another wave of investment was going to beneeded,biggerifanythingthantheonebefore,tobuildthenextgenerationofindustries.There’dneedtobefactoriessoonturningoutplastics,andartificialfibres,andequipmentforthejust-emergingtechnologiesofinformation:but itall seemed to be affordable, now. The Soviet Union could give its populacesome jam today, and reinvest for tomorrow, and pay the weapons bill of asuperpower,allatonce.TheBolsheviksimulationofcapitalismhadvindicateditself. The Party could even afford to experiment with a little gingerlydiscussion; a little closely-monitored blowing of the dust off the abandonedmechanismsfortalkingaboutaimsandobjectives,prioritiesandpossibilities,theroadalreadytravelledandthewayahead.And this was fortunate, because as it happened the board of USSR

Incorporated was in need of some expert advice. The growth figures weremarvellous,amazing,outstanding–buttherewassomethingfaintlydisturbingaboutthem,evenintheirrosiestversions.Forastart,atapointwhentheplanscalledforgrowthtorisefasterstill,itwasinfactslowingfromoneplanperiodto the next, not much, but unmistakeably. And then there was a devil in the

detail of the amazing growth, if you looked closely. For each extra unit ofoutputitgained,theSovietUnionwasfarmoredependentthanothercountriesonthrowinginextrainputs:extralabour,extrarawmaterials,extrainvestment.The USSR got 65% of its output growth from extra inputs, compared to theUSA’s 33% and the frugal 8% achieved by France. This kind of ‘extensive’growth(asopposedtothe‘intensive’growthofrisingproductivity)camewithbuilt-inlimits,andtheSovieteconomywasalreadynearingthem.Thereweren’tthatmanymoreextraSovietcitizenstoemploy;timberandmineralscouldn’tbeslung into themawof industry verymuch faster than they alreadywere; andinvestmentwas a problem in itself, even for a government that could choosewhatmoneymeant.Whisperitquietly,butthecapitalproductivityoftheUSSRwasadisgrace.TheSovietUnionalreadygotlessreturnforitsinvestments,intermsofextraoutput,thananyofitscapitalistrivals.Between1950and1960,forinstance,ithadsunk9.4%ofextracapitalayearintotheeconomy,toearnonly5.8%ayearmoreactualproduction.Ineffect, theyweresprayingSovietindustrywiththemoneytheyhadsopainfullyextractedfromthepopulace,andwastingmorethanathirdofitintheprocess.Yetsomehowthiseconomyhadtogrow,andgoongrowing,withoutapause.

Itwasn’tjustaquestionofovertakingtheAmericans.TherewerestillpeopleintheSovietUnion,atthebeginningofthe1960s,whobelievedinMarx’soriginalidyll:andoneofthemwastheFirstSecretaryoftheParty,NikitaSergeyevichKhrushchev.Somehow, theeconomyhad tocarry thecitizensof theBolshevikcorporationallthewayupthesteepeningslopeofgrowthtothepointwherethegrowing blended into indistinguishable plenty, where the work of capitalismanditssurrogateweredoneatlast,wherehistoryresumeditsrightfulcourse;wherethehuntingstarted,andthefishing,andthecriticisingafterdinner,andthetechnologyofabundancewouldpurrinthebackgroundlikeacontentedcat.Buthow?

Notes–Introduction

1Socialismwouldcome,notinbackwardagriculturalRussia:attheveryendofhislife,disappointedbythe slow pace of revolution in England and Germany and the USA,Marx reassessed Russia’s politicalpotential.Buthedidnotalterhisanalysisof theeconomicprerequisitesofsocialism.SeeTeodorShanin,ed.,LateMarxandtheRussianRoad:Marxand‘theperipheriesofcapitalism’ (London:RoutledgeandKeganPaul,1983).

2But it also createdprogress: see, to take themost famous ofmany passages, the paean to the ‘mostprogressive part’ played by the bourgeoisie, for which read capitalism, in The Communist Manifesto(1848).

3Itwouldbeaworldofwonderfulmachinesandraggedhumans: asportrayed, for instance, inMarx-influenced turn-of-the-twentieth-century fictions of the future such as H.G.Wells’sWhen the SleeperWakesandEdwardBellamy’sLookingBackwards.

4All the ‘springs of co-operative wealth’ would flow abundantly: ‘and on its banners society wouldinscribeatlast…accordingtotheirneeds.’Marx,‘CritiqueoftheGothaProgramme’,1875.

5Itwasgoingtobeanidyll:Marx’sownhuntingandfishingandcriticisingversion is fromTheGermanIdeology (1845–6). For a late nineteenth-century elaboration of the idyll into a full utopia, seeWilliamMorris,News fromNowhere; for late twentieth-centuryMarxian idylls, tryKenMacleod’sTheCassiniDivision (London: Legend, 1998), and any of Iain M. Banks’s ‘Culture’ novels, especially Look toWindward(London:Orbit,2000).

6Atiny, freakishcult: themembershipof theBolshevik factionof theRussianSocial-DemocraticLabourPartywas‘severalthousand’in1903,swelledintheaftermathofthefailed1905revolutiontoamaximumofmaybe seventy-five thousandby1907 (but thiswaswhile temporarily reunifiedwith theMensheviks),andthen(separateagain)plungedduringtheperiodofdisillusionmentandpolicerepressionthatfollowed,untilby1910noBolshevikbranchanywhereinthecountryhadmorethan‘tensofmembers’,andfromhisexileLenincouldcontactnomorethanthirtytofortyreliablepeople.SeeAlanWoods,Bolshevism–TheRoad to Revolution: AHistory of the Bolshevik Party (London:Well Red, 1999). In 1912,when theBolsheviks held a separate party congress in Prague, the membership was around five hundred, andaccording to the delegate from St Petersburg, Lenin could count on 109 supporters in the city. SeeR.B.McKean,StPetersburgBetweentheRevolutions:WorkersandRevolutionaries(NewHavenCT:YaleUniversityPress,1990).Thatwasthenadir,andmembershipwashigherby1914;butitwastheFirstWorldWarthatreallychangedthings.

7Therewasinfactaninternationaldebateinthe1920s:usefulsummariesof,andcommentarieson,thesocialist calculation debate can be found in Mirowski, Machine Dreams, Joseph E. Stiglitz, WhitherSocialism?(CambridgeMA:MITPress,1994)andGeoffreyM.Hodgson,EconomicsandUtopia:Whythelearningeconomyisnottheendofhistory(London:Routledge,1999),especially‘SocialismandtheLimits to Innovation’, pp. 15–61. VonMises’ opening criticisms are to be found in Ludwig vonMises,Socialism,1922, translatedbyJ.Kahane (Indianapolis:LibertyFund,1981).ForHayek’s initially ignoredbut deeply influential contribution, see F.A.Hayek, ‘The Use of Knowledge in Society’, The AmericanEconomic Review vol. 35 issue 4 (September 1945), pp. 519–30. For late rejoinders by two Westernsocialists,seeW.PaulCockshottandAllinF.Cottrell,‘Calculation,ComplexityandPlanning:TheSocialistCalculationDebateOnceAgain’,ReviewofPoliticalEconomy vol. 5no. 1, July1993,pp. 73–112; andCockshott and Cottrell, ‘Information and Economics: A Critique of Hayek’, Research in PoliticalEconomyvol.16,1997,pp.177–202.

8 Investment for industry, therefore , had to come the slowway: a policy particularly associatedwithNikolaiBukharin,‘Rightist’BolshevikandtheoristoftheNEP.SeeMosheLewin,PoliticalUndercurrentsin Soviet Economic Debates: From Bukharin to the Modern Reformers (Princeton NJ: PrincetonUniversityPress,1974).

9Slavelabourwasatremendousbargain:seeAnneApplebaum,Gulag:AHistoryoftheSovietCamps(NewYork:RandomHouse,2003).

10Evertoleavethekolkhoz:thecollectivefarm,intheoryanindependentco-operativesellingfoodtothestate,inpracticeamechanismofforcedlabourunderanappointeddirector.

11Asocietyinastateofveryhighmobility:seeSheilaFitzpatrick,EducationandSocialMobilityintheUSSR1921–1934(Cambridge:CUP,1979);Fitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.85–8.

12Thenamiddle-classlifebeckonedinshortorder:forthenewrespectabilityoftheStalinistbougeoisie,seeVeraS.Dunham, InStalin’sTime:MiddleclassValues inSovietFiction (Cambridge:CUP, 1976),and T. L. Thompson andR. Sheldon, eds,Soviet Society andCulture: Essays inHonour of Vera S.Dunham(BoulderCO:WestviewPress,1988);Fitzpatrickagain.

13AndafurcoatforMrsRedPlentytowear: for thewearabledimensionof theStalinistgoodlife,seeDjurdjaBartlett,‘TheAuthenticSovietGlamourofStalinistHighFashion’,RevistadeOccidenteno.317,November2007;andibid.,‘LetThemWearBeige:ThePetit-BourgeoisWorldofOfficialSocialistDress’,FashionTheoryvol.8issue2,pp.127–64,June2004

14And it did grow. It was designed to: a point made inMark Harrison, ‘Post-war Russian EconomicGrowth:NotaRiddle’,Europe–AsiaStudiesvol.55no.8(2003),pp.1,323–9.Foraconsiderationofthespecific window of opportunity that was open to a command economy in the middle of the twentieth

century, see Stephen Broadberry and Sayantan Ghosal, ‘Technology, organisation and productivityperformanceinservices:lessonsfromBritainandtheUnitedStatessince1870’,StructuralChangeandEconomicDynamicsvol.16issue4(December2005),pp.437–66.

15Indeed, therewasaphilosophical issuehere: for theplanners’philosophical fidelity toMarx,despiteeverything,seePaulCraigRoberts,AlienationandtheSovietEconomy(Albuquerque:UniversityofNewMexicoPress,2002).

16Thismade it difficult to compareSoviet growth: there is awhole specialised literature, spread overfiftyyears,onthedifficultyofassessingtheUSSR’sgrowthrate.Foranaccessiblewayin,seeAlecNove,Economic History of the USSR, and Paul R. Gregory and Robert C. Stuart, Russian and SovietEconomic Performance and Structure, 6th edn. (Reading MA: Addison-Wesley, 1998). For Westerncalculationsduring theColdWar, seeAbramBergsonandSimonKuznets,eds,EconomicTrends in theSoviet Union (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1963); Janet G. Chapman, Real Wages inSoviet Russia Since 1928, RAND Corporation report R-371-PR (Santa Monica CA, October 1963);FranklynD.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:Rand-McNally,1962).Asausefulretrospective,seeAngusMaddison,‘MeasuringthePerformanceofaCommunistCommandEconomy:AnAssessmentoftheCIAEstimatesfortheUSSR’,ReviewofIncomeandWealthvol.44no.3(September1998),pp.307–23.ForSovietreassessmentsofthehistoricgrowthrecordduringperestroika,seeTatyanaZaslavskaya, ‘TheNovosibirskReport’,English translationbyTeresaCherfas,Survey 1 (1984), pp. 88–108;AbelAganbegyan,Challenge:TheEconomicsofPerestroika,translatedbyMichaelBarrattBrown(London: I.B.Tauris, 1988); andmost pessimistic of all, G.I.Khanin’s calculations, as described inMarkHarrison, ‘Soviet economic growth since 1928: The alternative statistics of G.I.Khanin’, Europe–AsiaStudies vol. 45 no. 1 (1993), pp. 141–67. Then, for Khanin’s response to the Western studies, seeG.I.Khanin, Sovetskii ekonomicheskii rost: analiz zapadnykh otsenok (‘Soviet economic growth: ananalysis of western evaluations’) (Novosibirsk: EKOR, 1993). And finally, for Khanin’s revisionistreappraisal of his own previous pessimism, seeKhanin, ‘1950s – The Triumph of the Soviet Economy’,whichproposesacompletelynewgrowthmetricbasedonfuelconsumption.

17PeopleintheWestfeltthesamemesmeriseddisquiet:fortheanalogybetweenWesternreactionstoSovietgrowthandtothegrowthofJapan/China/India,seePaulKrugman,‘TheMythofAsia’sMiracle:ACautionaryFable’,ForeignAffairsvol.73no.6(November/December1994),pp.62–78.

18Setaboutcivilisingtheirsavagegrowthmachine:seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.19Therewasadevilinthedetail:thefiguresinthediscussionthatfollowscomefromGregoryandStuart,RussianandSovietEconomicPerformanceandStructure.

‘Whydoyouweep?’askedthewisewife.‘How can I help weeping?’ replied the archer. ‘The king has

commandedmetomakeappletreesgrowonbothsidesofthebridge,withripe apples hanging on them, birds of paradise singing in them, andstrangekittensmewingbeneaththem;ifallthisisnotdonebytomorrow,hewillcutoffmyhead.’

ShadowPrices,1960‘Isthisheresy?’saidLeonidVitalevich,nolongeraprodigy,nolongeraspectreof thought haunting anoversized suit.Timehad thickenedhim; turnedhim solidandanchoredhim to theground.AStalinPrize formathematicshadbrought thefamily eggs, cheese, hamand aprivate car.But thehardwhite light of creationstillshonefromtimetotimeinsidehim,indifferenttothechangesoftheflesh.Hesettled his glasses on his nose and patted his notes. ‘It is not an unimportantquestion.Ifitisheresytousethesemathematicalmethods,thenworkonthemwillwait, unpublished, for another ten or fifteenyears – and the chanceof applyingthemwill be lost.But if it is not, as I hope our conferencewill show, awidespace will open for them to be applied and developed. Undoubtedly they willhaveapositiveeffectonthenationaleconomy.Theopportunityexiststosave,nottensorhundredsofmillionsofroubles,buttensandhundredsofbillions.’Wehavesolittlepracticeat this, thoughtAcademicianNemchinov,watching

from the back of the seminar room with his eyes lidded, his arms foldedcomfortably over his belly. Soviet scientists had learned to be good at tellingwhen theparty line in theirsubjectwasabout tochange, likebirdswhodeducefromaparticular subtle vibration that the firmearth is firmno longer, and takeflight just before the earthquake. But until recently they had not often had toexercisetheskillofdecidingforthemselveswhetheritwastimeforachangeofmind.Apeculiar tensionwas in theroomnow, the tensionofambiguity inwhathadbeenoneofthemostwarilydocileofthesciences.Itwasnotclear,yet,whowas going to win the present argument; therefore, not clear where the party ofsafetywasgoingtolie.Thepeoplehehadbroughttogetherwereamixture:technologistsintoxicatedby

thenewpowerofelectroniccomputers,cyberneticiansgrippedbythefashionablevisionof theplannedeconomyasacomplexcontrolsystem,economists tiredoftheir subject resembling theologymore than it did science. LeonidVitalevich’sspecificmathematicalideaswouldnotbewhatmatteredmosttothem.Whattheyhad in common, or rather what they ought to have in common, if they couldpersuadethemselvesitwaspossible,wastheneedfortheplugofdeadthoughttoberemovedthatwaspreventingalltheirvariousprojectsalikefromdeveloping.Hehimselfhadanicelittlepracticalplan:hewantedtogetsoftwarewritten,inthe next four or five years, which would run the economy better than theblundering,improvising,suboptimaldecisionsofhumanplanners.

‘Hey,’murmuredalatecomer,slippingintotheneighbouringseatinacloudofbetter-than-Sovietcologne.‘Emil!Goodtoseeyou.’‘Iwaswondering:wouldyouintroducemeto–’andhenoddedforwards,very

charming,veryconfidenthis interestwouldbewelcome,witha little liftofhispointedchin.Nowtherewasaperplexingcombinationonthefaceof it:EmilArslanovich,

sitting pretty in the apparat, hard at work on the favoured Kremlin project ofstandardisingwagerates,butspontaneouslyeducatinghimselfinmathematics,tothe point where, it was rumoured, he was thinking seriously about shiftingsidewaysintoacademia;andLeonidVitalevich,whohadinventedalargepartofwhatEmilwasexcitedlylearning,yetwhoseideaofapoliticalmanoeuvrewastowritealetterofterrifyingfranknesstothemostpowerfulpersonhecouldthinkof.Infact,thoughtNemchinov,itmightnotbeabadcombinationatall,sincebyallaccountsandbyhisownobservation,Emilhad theconnectionsand theworldlywisdombut lacked the true lizard-brainedcoldnessof thoseon theirway to theverytop, thoseforwhomideasandpeoplewereonlyeveruseful.HesuspectedEmil,beneaththeurbanity,ofbeingsecretlyinearnest.‘Surely,surely,’hewhisperedback.‘Ifyouwaitafter thesession,we’llwalk

together.’‘Wonderful.Andhow’sitgoing?’‘Well–Ithinkthebombardmentisabouttostart…’‘Letmegiveasimpledemonstration’,LeonidVitalevichwassaying,‘ofhow

muchitmatterswhichvariantischoseninthenationalplans,andtherefore,howmuchitmattersthatamethodshouldexistforselectingthebettervariant.Afterall,foreveryindividualdecisiontheremayexisttwo,threeorfourpossibilitiesthatlookequallyplausible,making,altogether,whentheyaremultiplied,innumerablebillionsofpossibleplans.Suppose,then,thatwewishtoproducetwoproducts,AandB, inequalproportions,andmustsplit theproductionamong threedifferentfactories, each of which has its own level of efficiency at producingA and atproducingB.Itmaybe,thatbysimplysharingtheproductionequallybetweenthefactories,wewouldobtainanoutputof7,600ofA,7,400ofB.Almostthesamenumber, certainly close enough to count as successful plan-fulfilment under thepresentsystem.Yetitmayalsobethatanotherplancanresultinoutputof8,400A,plus 8,400 B, with just the same outlay of labour, materials and factory time.Simply by organising production differently,we obtain perfect fulfilment of therequirement for equal output of the two products – and 13%more production.Wherehasthe13%comefrom?“Outofnothing”,“outofmathematics”;or,moreaccurately,outof theoptimisingof thesystemofproductionas italreadyexists.

Thisis–yes?’Nemchinovleanedforward.Ahandhadgoneup;notahandbelongingtooneof

thebignamesinold-fashionedpoliticaleconomy,sincetheyhaddeclinedtocometoNemchinov’sconference,perhapsjudgingthatinthisnewtimetheirappealstophilosophicalauthoritymightsoundalittlelikecallsforthepolice.Thedoubtsoftheoldguardwerebeingrepresentedbymiddle-rankers.Disapprovalfromthemdidn’t carry the same force, didn’t convey quite the sameweight of conclusivejudgement.ThiswasBoyarskiithestatistician.‘Yes?’‘Professor, you’re effectively quoting from your own book, aren’t you? The

much-criticisedBestUseofEconomicResources.Condemnedbyreviewerafterreviewerforthesamefault,yournaiveflirtationwiththeoriesfamiliartousfromtheworksofbourgeoisapologists…’Boyarskiihesitated.Ahyes, thoughtNemchinov,you’rewaitingfor thesky to

fall,asitalwaysusedtodoifanyonespokewordslikethat;andinsteadthere’sonlythissilence.You’reactuallygoingtohavetomaketheargument,I’mafraid.‘Naturally,’Boyarskiicontinuedwithawkwardpoliteness,‘Idon’tsayaword

againstthestrictlymathematicalpartofyourwork.I’msurewe’reallawarethatagreater degree of quantitative analysis is essential to the refinement of ourplanning;andyouhaveprovidedtoolswhich,inlimitedareas,canclearlybeofgreatassistance.Inthesameway,it’samatterofprideforallofus,I’msure,thatyoushouldhaveindependentlyoriginatedtheprinciplesof,of–’‘–linearprogramming–’‘Thank you, linear programming, here in the Soviet Union, before it was

discovered by scientists in the imperialist countries. Yet economics is not ascienceofquantityalone,isit?Itispre-eminentlyascienceofquality,thescienceofquality,inwhichthemeaningofeconomicphenomena,notjusttheirmagnitude,is revealed; and revealed how? Of course, by the rigorous application ofMarxism–Leninism.Itfollowsthateconomicsisparticularlybasedonpartiinost,party-mindedness.Mathematical investigationscanonly succeed if theyproceedfromtheeconomiccontentdisclosedbypoliticaleconomy.Forexample,politicaleconomy teachesus that theplans for thedevelopmentof the socialist economyareanobjectiveexpressionofsocialism’seconomiclaws.Yetinyourbookyourefer tothemasbeingjust“collectionsofnumbers”:anexpression, ifImaysayso, of spectacular disrespect for the socialist system. You have declined to beguidedbypoliticaleconomy,andthatiswhy,aboveall,youhavemadetheerrorofascribingtoyourmathematicaldiscoveriesauniversalsignificancewhichtheycouldonlyhaveinthefantasyworldsofthosewritingapologiasforcapitalism.Iamreferringtoyourso-called“objectivelyderivedvaluations”–’

‘–objectivelydeterminedvaluations–’‘Thankyou;whichyouhaveextendedfromthemodest,usefulfunctionyoufirst

gave them,until theycease todescribeonequantitativeaspectof theproductionprocess in an individual factory, and become instead a challenge to politicaleconomy’s central truth, its great foundation stone: that all value is created bylabour. “Shadowprices”, I believe they’re also called – and they are shadowyindeed,aretheynot?Ireferyoutoyourbook,toConclusionSix,whereyouarearguing that your valuations are “dynamic”. You write, “any increase in therequirements of some article entails a corresponding increase in costs andconsequentlyinitso.d.valuation.Adecreaseinrequirementsentailsareductioninitso.d.valuation.”Whatisthis,whatcanthispossiblybe,butasuggestionthatvalue is determined by supply and demand? Supply and demand, for heaven’ssake: bourgeois ideology’s most transparent disguise for exploitation!Academician Nemchinov here criticises you on this very point, in his actualintroductiontoyourbook–’Yes, thoughtNemchinov,becausenobodywouldhavepublished thebook if I

hadn’t,andmymakingafoolofmyselfwasapriceworthpayingtogettheideasintocirculation.‘“Itisimpossibletoagreewiththeauthor’spointofview;itmustberejected.”’Anothersilence.‘Well,’ said Leonid Vitalevich, ‘let me say in passing that I think Vasily

Sergeyevich’–anodtoNemchinovatthebackoftheroom–‘ismistakentothinkthattheseareconsiderationswhichIamsomehowbringinginunnecessarilytotheanalysis,orthinkingup:theyaremathematicalconsequencesofthesituation.’Ah,Lyonya:endlesslypatientwithyourenemies,angrywithyourfriends.‘ButIshouldliketoanswerproperly,becausethisisavitalpoint.NaturallyI

donotdoubt thegreat truth thatall economicvalue iscreatedbyhuman labour.Thisisapparenteventomathematicians.Thequestionisonly,howthistruthistobebestapplied;howitistobeappliedinasocietywherewearenotaiming,likeMarx, just to diagnose economic relationships, and to criticise them, but mustmanage them too; where we are obliged to be concrete and detailed in ourthinking. For example.’ Leonid Vitalevich pressed his fist to his mouth, andbanged it there gently a couple of times,making eye contactwith noone in theroom.Thenhestraightenedthelittlefingeronthathand,waveditslowlytwiceintheair,andfixedhisgazeagainonBoyarskii.‘Forexample!Doyouseemytie?’NemchinovhadseenLeonidVitalevichdothisbefore,inlectures;turnstaccato,

and seemingly wander off into disconnected thoughts. In fact, he always madeperfect sense, when you reassembled the fragmentary statements you had beengiven, afterwards, butNemchinov hoped that thiswas going to be one of those

occasionswhenthecoherencewasobviousatthetime.‘Yes?’saidBoyarskiiwarily.‘Madeof rayon.Dyedblue.Cutandsewnat theMayakworks,but thefabric

must’ve come from a supplier, first.We agree, then, that the value of the tie isdeterminedbytheworkthatwentintoit?’‘Ofcourse.That’selementary.’‘Thevalueisdeterminedbythelabourofprocessingthecellulose,spinningthe

threads,dyingthem,weavingthem,movingthemtoMayakinMoscow,cuttingandsewing?’‘Yes!Idon’tsee–’‘Whatamount?’‘I’msorry?’‘Whatamountoflabourisinmytie,exactly?’‘Obviously,I’mnotinapositiontoknow–’‘Then howwould you put yourself in a position to know?Are there tables,

somewhere, that recordstandardisedquantitiesof labour foreachof theactionsinvolved in creating a necktie?Does a calculus exist for reducing the differentkinds of labour involved, the different levels of skill, the duration, intensity,efficiencyandsoon,toonecommondenominatoroflabour-time?No:ofcoursenot. It is not surprising you cannot answer,’ said Leonid Vitalevich kindly,‘because as a societywedo not, in fact, handle labour-value quantitatively.Orrather,wedonotdosoinadirectway.Itisalwaysexpressedinsomesyntheticform. We track value through a variety of indicators. Through the productionnorms given to enterprises, which state that a plant employing such-and-such anumberofworkerscanbeexpectedtoturnoutsuch-a-suchanumberoffinisheditemsinsuch-and-suchanamountoftime.Or,mostobviously,throughprices.Butpricesareacknowledgedtobehighlyimperfectindicatorsofvalue,sincetheyareset at such long intervals; and so, I and other economists are arguing, are theenterprise indicators as they exist at present. At present, our system of normsfrequently produces perverse results, perverse situations in which a plan thatbenefits an individual enterprise does not benefit the national economy as awhole;orviceversa.Sowhat,inessence,Iamproposing–Iandotherswhoareatworkinthisarea–isanewformofindirectindicatorforlabourvaluewhichwouldallowustocalculate,easilyandstraightforwardly,plansthatareoptimalallaround.Theseindicatorswillbenolesssyntheticthanthosewealreadyuse,butnomoresyntheticeither,and there isno reason tobelieve that theywillnotcapturethedeeptruthoflabour-valuejustaswell.’‘But what about the evident similarity between your “valuations” and the

marketpricesofacapitalisteconomy?’askedBoyarskii,whowassoundingrather

strained.‘It’struethatthereisaformalresemblance,’saidLeonidVitalevich.‘Butthey

haveacompletelydifferentorigin,andthereforeacompletelydifferentmeaning.Whereasmarketpricesareformedspontaneously,objectivevaluations–shadowprices –must be computedon the basis of anoptimal plan.As the plan targetschange, the valuations change. They are subordinate to the very differentproductionrelationshipsofasocialistsociety.Yet,yet,thescopefortheiruseisactually bigger under socialism. The capitalists actually agree with you, DrBoyarskii, that the mathematical methods we’re talking about should only beapplied on the small scale, on the level of the individual firm. They have nochoice:thereisnolargerstructure,intheeconomyofWestGermanyortheUnitedStates,inwhichtheycanbesettowork.Theyhavehadsomesuccess,Ibelieve.I’m sorry to say that, since George Danzig and Tjalling Koopmans made theirdiscoveries of “linear programming” inAmerica during thewar, the techniqueshave been adopted there farmore eagerly, farmore quickly, than in the SovietUnion.Linearprogrammers in theUSAcalculate routes for airlines, anddevisethe investment policies of Wall Street corporations. But we still have anopportunity before us which is closed to the capitalists. Capitalism cannotcalculate an optimum for a whole economy at once. We can. There is afundamentalharmonybetweenoptimalplanningandthenatureofsocialistsociety.‘We can,’ repeated Leonid Vitalevich, ‘and therefore we must. It is our

intellectualresponsibility.AcademicianNemchinov,whenhewasintroducingme,declaredthatIshouldbeworkingoutalgorithmstomanagethenationaleconomy.Iwouldsay,rather,thatthatisworkfortheentirecollectiveofSovieteconomists,mathematiciansandspecialistsincomputertechnology.’TheapplauseseemedtoshrivelBoyarskiiwherehesat.‘Iwilljustsayonemoreword,aboutcomputers.’Good, thought Nemchinov. This coalition we’re building needs the

programmers,andthestatisticalbureaucratswho’lllikethebudgetsthecomputersbring.‘Inmyopinion it is not the lackof them that has heldup thedevelopment of

mathematicalmethods.Therearewayswecouldhavecalculatedoptimalplansbycountingonourfingers.’Oh.‘But there isnodoubt thatelectroniccomputerswill immeasurablystrengthen

ourability tohandle largeandcomplexproblems.Andtheyhave,moreover, thegreatvirtueofrequiringclarityfromus.I’mafraidthatthecomputercannotdigestsomeofoureconomists’scholarlyproducts.Longtalksandarticleswhichpeoplethinktheyunderstandproveimpossibletoputintological,intoalgorithmic,form.

It turns out that, once you remove everything that’s said “in general”, once youpour awayall thewater, there’snothing left.Well, eithernothing…oronebiqquestionmark…’‘Ouch!’hissedEmilappreciativelytoNemchinov,throughthelaughter.People

begantogatheruppapersandbriefcases.‘That’sfiercestuff.Hemustbe…quiteanoperator?’‘Oh no,’ said Nemchinov, looking at him closely. ‘To the contrary. To the

absolutecontrary.’‘Really?’‘Yes,really.Comeon,andI’lltellyououtside.’

*

Outside, a spring afternoonofwhite andgreywasblowing itself out in awindwitharenewededgeofwinterfrosttoit,likeabluntkniferesharpened.Thesnowhadgone, though,exceptfor thelastfewtenaciousmounds,blue-blackwithcitydirt,andsmoothedbyrepeatedthawingandrefreezinguntiltheylookedstrangelydorsal; as if a pod of whales were swimming up Krasikov Street through theground,breaching theasphalthereand therewith their roundedbacks.EmilandNemchinov waited on the portico of the Academy, two men pulling blackovercoatsclosearoundthem.Infact,twomenpullingcloseexactlythesameblackovercoat: ‘coat,winter,men’s,part-silk lining,woolworsted tricot,clothgroup29–32’,as theMinistryofTrade’sretailhandbookput it.Despite thebite intheair,pigeonsontheshouldersofthegranitegiantsholdinguptheAcademy’sfacadewerethroatilycrooning,andsteppingoutshufflingdances,puffeduptosoftballsoffeatherandclaw.ThetaxispassingonKrasikovahadtheirheadlampslit.Emil found that Leonid Vitalevich’s final joke was still affecting him, still

somehow tickling him internally. He felt giddy, bemused, oddly happy. Thereseemedtobemoreopenspacearoundhimthanhehadrealised;moreelbowroomforideas.HeshookhisheadandofferedNemchinovanAmericancigarette.‘Thank you, I won’t,’ said the Academician. ‘Look, the thing about Leonid

Vitalevichisthatheargueslikethatbecausehebelieves,hegenuinelybelieves,that it’s argument that settles the issue. He is not scoring political points, orpleasing his friends, or giving shrewd knocks to his enemies. He expects topersuadepeople.Hethinksthatscientistsarerationalbeingswhorespondtologicifyoushowittothem.Ofcourse,hejudgeseverybodybyhimself.Hemakeshismindupaccordingtoinductionanddeduction.Therefore,everyonedoes.’‘Aninnocent,then?’saidEmil,intenselycurious;curioustoothatthepatronof

a cause in academic politics would be willing to talk like this, to a relative

stranger,aboutthepersonwhosereputationwasoneofhismainassets.Itseemedtobeaninvitationtointimacy;butnotnecessarilywithNemchinov.‘Apassionateinnocent.Whoknows,maybeevenaholyinnocent.Itmakeshim

…alittleliteralinhisdealingswiththeworld.Hetendstothinkthattherulesondisplaytrulyaretherulesofthegame.Hisbook–Idon’tknowifyouknow,buthewroteitalongtimeagonow,itwascertainlyfinishedbytheendofthewar,and ever since he has been lobbying and lobbying, and not always in themostcareful way, to get it printed.Well, he probably thought he was being careful.You’vereadBestUse,yes?Thetextissupposedlyaimedatmanagers,soit’sniceandsimple,withlotsofdemonstrationsofhowyoucandolinearprogrammingonyour fingers, or at least on an office slide rule.All the implications are in themaths.But it’s still, bydefinition, anunorthodoxbook, certainly for the timeofthe, ah, cult of personality. It’s a piece of unrequested, unsponsored technicalthinking,byanoutsider,aboutasubjectof,ah,intensepoliticalattention,andit’swritteninawaythatpaysalmostnonoticetotheformulasofpoliticaleconomy.SowhatdoesourLeonidVitalevichdo,onceit’sbecomeclearthat,sofarastheplannersunderstandthem,hisideasareaswelcomeasshitonanewcarpet?Hepetitions, like a woman whose husband’s been arrested, or a collective-farmworkerwithagrudge.HewritestoStalin.’‘You’rekidding…’‘No; and more than once too; and his manuscript goes up and down in the

world,roundandround.Ithasadventures,thisstackofpages.Idon’tknowallofthem, but I heard the story ofwhat happenedwhen it landed on the chairman’sdeskatGosplan.“Bettergetsomeadvice,”hethinks,andhecallsintheheadofhis prices department. “Read this” – and he hands him the book, which isprobablyabitdog-earedbynow.Coupleofdayslater,backcomeshisguy.“Sowhaddaya think?” says the chairman, “should we be printing this?” “Oh no,”comestheanswer.“It’snothingimportant,andpolitically,it’simpossible.”“Oh?”saysthechairman.“Well,shouldwebearrestingthefellow,then?”“Hmm,”sayshisguy.“No,Idon’tthinkso,”hesays;“Iwouldn’treallycallhimanti-Soviet.Heobviouslymeanswell.”’‘Shit…’‘Yes indeed, shit.Close enough to hear thewhisper of the axe, as youmight

say.’‘Whichchairman–?’‘Voznesensky,beforehegotthechopfromStalinin’49.’Emilstubbedouthiscigarette,andabsently litanotherstraightaway, thinking

aboutthegreatsilencethathadfalleninSovieteconomics,andaboutthenumberofscholarswhohadbeenwinnowedoutofthesubjectwithouteverhavingdone

anythingasobtrusiveorspectacularaspetitioningStalinonbehalfofahereticalbook; who had softly and silently departed for short lives chipping at thepermafrost in Norilsk or the Kolyma, despite having done everything in theirpowertoavoidrisk.Itwasnotacomfortabletrainofthought,andthiswasclearlythemomenttomakehisexcusesandwalkaway.Nemchinovwaswaitingforhimtodo just that, ifhewanted to.Emil’s laughterwaswellquenchedalready.Butsomethingpersisted,perhaps:arecklessghostofthehilarityhehadbeenfeelingastheconversationbegan,afaintanduncalculatingwishforthesensationofextrathinkingroomnot todisappearasquicklyas ithadcome.His thoughtsskitteredabout.‘Whyisn’thedead?’hesaideventually.‘That is a good question. After all, meaning well hasn’t been a completely

adequate shield in this centuryofours. I don’t know.Maybeblind luck.Maybebecausehedid,let’ssay,alittleworkwithAcademicianSobolevwhentherewasmathematical heavy lifting needed for this.” Nemchinov clasped his elderlyfingerstogether,poppedthemoutintoafist-sizedmushroomcloud.Bouf,hislipsformed.‘Whichbringsalittlegratitudewithit,andconsequentlyalittlelatitude.Ah,herehecomes.’LeonidVitalevichhadsteppedoutof thetriple-glassmaindoor,proofagainst

Moscow blizzards, and was detaching himself from a group in animatedconversation. Emil and Nemchinov watched him walk towards them along thecolonnadeofbowedstonetitans.‘Inmyopinion,’saidNemchinovcalmly,butwithaclearsenseoftheclosing

distance,‘ifyoucarefortheideaswediscussedtoday,ifyoucareaboutbringingasemblanceofrationalitybacktooureconomics, thenyouareobligedtofeeladutytoLeonidVitalevich.He’scutouttobethecitizenofamuchmoresensibleworld, andheneeds thehelpof thoseofuswhoarebetter adapted to thisone.Friendshipwithhimisatrust.Ifyoufollowme.’‘Ido,’saidEmil.‘Good. Lyonya,well done,well done! I thought thatwent verywell. I don’t

thinkyou’vemetEmil,haveyou?’‘No, I don’t think so,’ said LeonidVitalevich, putting down his briefcase. ‘I

know your work, of course, and … could I have seen you at the Institute ofElectronicControlMachines?’‘Probablywithastackofpunchedcardsinmyhand,’Emilagreed,‘waitingmy

turntofeedtheM-2.Yes,Idoabitofworktherefromtimetotime;we’retryingto get a fuller picture of labour expenses into the model of the inter-branchbalance.Butyouknowhow it is.Youwaitmonths for theprocessing time,youfinally get assigned a slot and it’s at 2.15 a.m., and then some valve or other

blowsandthesystemgoesdown.’‘Emil is resisting the temptations of the scholar’s life, at the moment,’ said

Nemchinov.‘Probablybecauseofexperienceslikethat.’‘Actually,’Emil said, ‘it’s a temptation I’ve tried togive in to. Iput in for a

transfertofull-timeresearch,butitwasblocked;theoldguysattheCommitteeforLabourwon’tletmego.“Comeon,boy,scienceistwodays’workandfivedays’holidays!Whatsortoflifeisthatforayoungman?”Nothingcountsbutepictoilamongthepaperclips.’‘Haveyouthoughtaboutgoingeast?’saidLeonidVitalevich.‘East?’ For an instant Emil thought that Leonid Vitalevich had somehow

guessed the subject of the previous conversation, picked up amolecule of fearhangingaboutinthegustyair.‘To Novosibirsk,’ explained Nemchinov. ‘The Academy’s new science city?

Leonid Vitalevich is moving there later this year with a group of his graduatestudents,tosetupalab.’‘Yes; and theAcademy’smanaged toget a specialdecreeauthorising release

fromanyjob–anyjobatall,Ibelieve–ifyou’resomeonetheSiberianDivisionwantstoemploy.Mightbeworthlookinginto,ifyou’rereallyinterested.’‘Quite a nice package,’ said Nemchinov. ‘Mimeo reports to be circulated

withoutpre-approval; new journals if youwant to start one; decent company towork in. Economics, maths, biology, geology, automation research, physics. Acyclotronor twofor thephysicists toplaywith;acomputercentre foreveryoneelse.Machine time on demand, apparently. Apartments half a hectare wide, tocompensate for life on the banks of the Ob. No, ah, nationality issues. Andpoliticalbackingforusefulresults.We’reexpectingtoseequiteapieceofwhatweneedcomeoutofthere.’‘We might get somewhere at last,’ said Leonid Vitalevich. ‘Without all the

nonsense.’‘Without all the people like Boyarskii,’ said Emil. ‘All the economists who

knowthevalueofeverything,andthepriceofnothing.’‘Oh–ohthat’sverygood,’saidLeonidVitalevich.‘Forgiveme,couldIhave

oneofyourcigarettes?’‘WhyLyonya,’saidNemchinov,‘youdon’tsmoke.’‘SoIdon’t,’saidLeonidVitalevich.Hefishedthefilter-tipinexpertlyoutofthepacketandleantforwardtoEmil’s

lighter, his hands cupped around the flame to block thewind. Emil, finding thewide tiredeyesglistening soclose tohisown,also found thathedidnot agreewith Nemchinov, entirely. Leonid Vitalevich did not exactly look innocent; helooked like amanwhoknew the depths of the abysses beneath him, butwhose

nature compelled him always to be stepping ingenuously forward onto thewobblingplankbridgesthatspannedthem.Hisfingersweretrembling.

Notes–II.1ShadowPrices,1960

1‘Isthisheresy?’saidLeonidVitalevich:thespeechIhavegivenhimhereisapatchworkofelements,heavily edited and simplified, from his real speeches to the conference on mathematics and economicsreallyheldby theRussianAcademyofSciences inApril1960.TextsfromKantorovich,KutateladzeandFet, eds, L.V.Kantorovich: Chelovek i Uchenii, pp. 117–26. For coverage of the conference, see P.Zhelezniak, ‘ScientificConferenceon theApplicationofMathematicalMethods inEconomicStudiesandPlanning’, Problems of Economics (translated digest of articles from Soviet economic journals,InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol. 3 no. 7,November1960, pp. 3–6; originally inPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.5,1960.

2ThoughtAcademicianNemchinov,watchingfromthebackofthe seminarroom:VasilySergeyevichNemchinov (1894–1964), geneticist turned economist, Academician-Secretary of the Department ofEconomic,PhilosophicalandLegalSciencesintheAcademyofSciences,patronandinstitutionalgodfatherof the mathematical revival of Soviet economics. I have slightly exaggerated the extent to which theconferencewashisidea:itactuallyoriginatedwithaninitiativebyKantorovichhimself.Forasampleofhisadroit political footwork during the transition to amathematical economics, seeV.S.Nemchinov, ‘ValueandPriceUnderSocialism’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.4no.3,July1961,pp.3–17;originally inVoprosyEkonomikino.12,1960.Foragatheringof the scientists towhomheactedasco-ordinator,seeV.S.Nemchinov,ed.,TheUseofMathematicsinEconomics,editedinEnglishbyAlecNove (Edinburgh:Oliver&Boyd,1964).Oneof themost importantnames tobe foundthere is completelymissing in thisnarrative:V.V.Novozhilov,Leningradeconomist andclose intellectualally of Leonid Kantorovich, whose work on the relative efficiency of investments found amore-or-lesspolitically acceptable way of reintroducing the idea of capital’s productivity, and who provided a vitalconnection to the pre-revolutionary tradition of Russian economics. He is missing here for storytellingreasons. But see V.V.Novozhilov, ‘On Choosing Between Investment Projects’, translated by B.Ward,International Economic Papers 6 (1956), pp. 66–87, andV.V.Novozhilov, ‘Calculation of Outlays in aSocialist Economy’, Problems of Economics (International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 4 no. 8,December1961,pp.18–28;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.2,1961;andV.V.Novozhilov,ProblemsofCost-BenefitAnalysisinOptimalPlanning,translatedbyH.McQuiston(WhitePlainsNY,1970).ForacontemporaryWesternappraisalofwhat theallianceofKantorovichandNovozhilovmightmean,seeR.Campbell, ‘Marx, Kantorovich and Novozhilov: Stoimost’ versus Reality’, Slavic Review 40 (October1961),pp.402–18.

3Tellingwhenthepartylineintheirsubjectwasabouttochange:fordiscussionsofacademicpoliticsinStalinist andpost-StalinistRussia, seeLorenR.Graham,ScienceandPhilosophy in the SovietUnion(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972), and Gerovitch, From Newspeak to Cyberspeak . For a fictionalreflection, see the experiences of the particle physicist Viktor Shtrum in Vasily Grossman’s moralmonumentofanovel,LifeandFate,translatedbyRobertR.Chandler(London:Harvill,1995).

4A letter of terrifying frankness to themost powerful person he could think of: according to hisdaughter, in conversationwith the author inStPetersburg in2004,hewrote to everySoviet leader fromStalintoAndropov.

5 A hand had gone up: though this confrontation is a device to dramatise the ideological conflict overKantorovich’s ‘heresy’, the conference really was marked by sharp antagonism between him andBoyarskii,whohadpublishedaveryhostilereviewofhisBestUseofEconomicResources inthejournalPlanovoeKhozyaistvo (‘Planned Economy’) the year before. The intervention I have given Boyarskiihere,however,isbasedonanequallyhostilearticleofhisfrom1961.SeeA.Boyarskii,‘OntheApplicationofMathematicsinEconomics’,ProblemsofEconomics(translateddigestofarticlesfromSovieteconomicjournals, International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 4 no. 9, January 1962, pp. 12–24; originally inVoprosyEkonomiki no. 2, 1961.Whatever form the real exchange betweenKantorovich andBoyarskii

took, it is clear that Kantorovich won it. ‘This is not the first such review on Comrade Boyarskii’sconsciencebut followingmyreplyand judgingby theaudience’s reactionand thatofBoyarskiihimself, Ihaveafeelinghewon’tbewritinganymorereviewsof thissort infuture’:Kantorovich, inhisspeechtothePresidiumoftheAcademy,20May1960,inLeonidVitalevichKantorovich:ChelovekiUchenii,vol.1. Or, for another hostile commentary on the book, see A. Kats, ‘Concerning a Fallacious Concept ofEconomic Calculation’, Problems of Economics vol. 3 no. 7, November 1960, pp. 42–52; originallypublishedinVoprosyEkonomikino.5,1960.

6 Shadow prices: the multipliers on which Kantorovich’s solution to optimisation problems depended.Essentially,theywereopportunitycosts:theyrepresentedthecostofchoosingoneparticulararrangementofproductionintermsoftheamountofproductionforgonebychoosingit.Theirideologicalsignificancelayin theway that, withoutmaking any reference to demand or tomarkets,Kantorovich had discovered ademand-likelogic in thestructureofproductionitself. Inhisscheme, itwasthevolumeofplannedoutputthatwastobemaximised,notthecustomer’ssatisfaction,buthehadstillintroducedtheideathattheutilityoftheoutputtosomebodyshouldbetheguidetohowproductionwasconfigured.

7Anyincreaseintherequirementsofsomearticle:seeL.V.Kantorovich,TheBestUseofEconomicResources,translatedbyP.F.Knightsfield(Oxford:PergamonPress,1965).

8‘Forexample!Doyouseemytie?’:theparableofthenecktieiscompletelyinvented.Kantorovich’shabitof seeming to wander off during lectures, however, is genuine. A witness in Akademgorodok in 2006described tome the disconnected fragments hewould appear to be uttering, and the perfect sense theywouldturnouttomakewhenyoustudiedyournotesafterwards.

9‘It’struethatthereisaformalresemblance’,saidLeonidVitalevich:hisnextpointis,again,aslightlymodifiedquotationfromTheBestUseofEconomicResources.It isworthnotingthatthereisnowayatallof tellinghowsincere the realKantorovichwasbeingwhenheasserted thathis shadowpriceshada‘meaning’ completely different from market prices. As was pointed out to me in conversation inAkademgorodok,hewasnotableforthecarewithwhichheconfinedhimselfinwritingtothepracticalandmathematical aspects of his work, and never even hinted at what he considered to be its social orideological implications.Thesamewitnessgaveashisopinion thatKantorovich,asabrilliantly intelligentman,musthavebeenwhollyscepticalfromthebeginningaboutSovietsocialism–butthereseemedtometobeadangerofanachronisminthejudgement,andKantorovich’stenacityasasystem-builderarguedfortheratherdifferentinterpretationofhimwhichIhavemadehere.

10‘Coat,winter,men’s,part-silklining,woolworstedtricot,clothgroup29–32’:therewasaMinistryofTraderetailhandbook,anditwillhavehadalistingforbetter-qualitymen’sovercoatsverylikethis,butmysource–Chapman,RealWages inSovietRussiaSince1928–happens to track thepricesonlyofbetter-quality’swomen’sovercoatsamongitsbasketofconsumergoods,soIhaveconfabulatedthemen’scoat’sentryfromthat.

11GranitegiantsholdinguptheAcademy’sfacade: so faras Iknow, therearenomuscle-boundstoneAtlantids straining to support the Academy of Sciences in Moscow. Those are all in Leningrad/StPetersburg.But thesymbolismis toogoodtomiss;andifafairytalewouldbeimprovedbygiants, itgetsgiants.

12Andhismanuscriptgoesupanddownintheworld,roundandround: thestoryofthemanuscript’salarmingadventures atGosplancanbe found inAbelAganbegyan,Moving theMountain. It should benoted that itwas theheadofGosplan’spricesdepartmenthimself,whenhe laterbecameAganbegyan’sdoctoralsupervisor,whotoldhimthestory,whichsuggeststhatthereactiontothebookatGosplan(atleastinthepricesdepartment)was,thoughjustasuncomprehending,significantlylessthuggishinrealitythaninthisburlesquedversion.

13Poppedthemout intoafist-sizedmushroomcloud:Kantorovichwaspartof themathematical teamunderAcademicianSobolevontheSovietA-bombproject.

14 ‘Quite a nice package,’ said Nemchinov: see Paul R. Josephson, New Atlantis Revisited:Akademgorodok,theSiberianCityofScience(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,1997).

FromthePhotograph,1961Electrons have no point of view. They form no opinions,make no judgements,commit no errors. Down at their scale, there are no opinions, judgements, orerrors; only matter and energy, in a few configurations from which the wholelavish cosmos jigsaws itself together. Electronsmovewhen forces act on theirspeck of negative electrical charge or on their infinitesimal pinpricks of mass.They do not choose to move; they do not behave, except in metaphor. Yet themetaphorscreepin.These electrons, for example, boil and jostle on the surface of their heated

filament,as if itwereabeachcrowdedbymillionsuponmillionsofsunbathersuntil the sand itself had vanished from sight. Normally, electrons in the atomiclattice of a piece ofmetal are free to flow along through themetal, creating acurrent.Theycanhopsidewaysfromatomtoatom.Theycan’tjumpoffthemetalaltogether, because the positive charge in the nucleus of each atom holds themback.Butthefilamentisglowingred-hot.It’sbeingpumpedupwithextraenergyintheformofheat,enoughtobreakthebondthattieseachelectrontothemetal,thatgripseachbather to thebeach.They’rescarcelyattached to the latticenow.They’rethrongingitssurface,readytogoifanyotherforcesetstheminmotion.Andnowa forcedoes.Twocentimetres away, an electrode flickson. It’s an

anode, positively charged, and it pulls. The electrons surge forward off thefilamentintheirmillions:it’sanexodus,it’salemming-rushoffthebeach,it’sanidenticalhordeflingingitself into jabberingmassmotion.Toensure thatnothinggets in the way, that no electrons are batted off course by collisions with thegaseous soup of particles in air, the electrons fly into vacuum. In vacuum theysurge, in vacuum they pour, through three electrified control grids. The gridssmooththemotionout,andpreventanybouncing,oreddying,orunwantedreverseflows.Theydisciplinethehorde.Whereelectronsmovethereisbydefinitionanelectriccurrent.Sohere,forthewholetimetheanodeisswitchedon–oneten-thousandthofasecond–astrictlyone-waycurrentflowstoitacrossthevacuum.Thereisnobuild-up,nogentlecurveofrisingpower.Thecurrentiseitherfullyon, or it’s fully off. A bulk process, full of statistical fuzz, where millions ofparticlesmillaround,hasbeenconvertedintoacompletelydeterminateone,withjusttwostates.Offoron.Novoltageorhighvoltage.Falseortrue.Zeroorone.Already, the flow of electrons ismore than justmutely physical. It has been

harnessedtotheworkofmeaning,cajoledintomakingapicturethatfollowsthe

simplest rule of picture-making imaginable, where there need only be a binarychoicebetweenshowingasomethingorshowinganothing.Yetfromthissimplestyes–nochoice,repeatedandrepeated,canmountupinformation’smostcomplexstructures,itsmostsubtlyshadedpictures,justasthefewbasicconfigurationsofmatter and energy, rightly arranged, cangenerate neutron stars, ice-creamconesandPolitburomembers.Here, thechoicehasbeenyes.Thiscurrent, runningforoneten-thousandthofasecond,saysyes.Itsays:on.Itsays:one.We’reinsideadevicewhichinAmericanEnglishiscalledavacuumtube,and

in British English a thermionic valve. To be precise, it’s a pentode, so namedbecausethefilamentandtheanodeandthethreecontrolgridsmakefivepoweredcomponents,insidethestumpy,evacuatedcylinderofblackglass.Thepentodeisone of forty-seven pentodes socketed into a big black circuit board; the circuitboardisoneof thirty-ninecircuitboardsarrangedinaverticalrack; therackisthe arithmetical processor of the Bystrodeystvuyushchaya Elektronno-Schyotnaya Mashina-2; and the BESM-2 is installed in the basement of theInstitute of PreciseMechanics inMoscow,where it was designed.Midnight islong past.Hardly anyone is around. The night is trundling downwards towardsthatdisconsolatemomentofminimumwhensheetsofnewspaperformerlyusedforwrappingfishblowaboutthedesertedstreetsofMoscow,andhumanwishesallseem vain. But the BESM-2 is hard at work; and so is its designer SergeiAlexeievich Lebedev, sitting at his usual worktable and grinding out one afteranotherofthecardboardbuttsofKazbek-brandcigarettes.Bynowthenighttastesofnothingbutash.Butnicotinesubstitutesforfood,nicotinesubstitutesforsleep,andthereissolittletimeleftforthefuture,onceallthedemandsofthepresentaretaken care of. Back in the war, when there were only his thoughts and nomechanism yet at all to vest them in, Lebedev sat up all night doing binaryarithmeticbyhand.Howcanhestopnow,whencomputersexist–hebuiltthefirstoneintheSovietUnionhimself,in1951–yetalwaysfallsoshortofwhatmightbe? Every machine takes an age to perfect. Yet every machine leaves thismaddeningresidueofnewthoughtsnotactedon.HelpfultoxinsfromthetobaccofieldsofUzbekistangoadthebloodinhisveinstohurry.TheBESMhums.Therearemore than four thousand vacuum tubes in there, all glowing red-hot behindsmoked glass. Someone, somewhere, in the control room of this section ofMoscow’spowergrid,iswatchingtheBESMdraindownasgreedyaloadasanaveragenight-shift factory,allon itsown–but forLebedev thehumisakindlywombofsound,providedbyamachineofthepresentsothatthemachineofthefuturecancometobirth.Meanwhile, inside theBESM, the current that flowed through our pentode is

triggeringfurthercurrentsinotherpentodesonthesameboard,sothatthebinary1

itrepresentedispassedalongthroughcircuitsrepresentinglogicaloperationsonthatdigit.Notverycomplicatedoperations,notveryabstruselogic.Apentodeisplugged in line with another pentode, so both must be on for current to flowthrough from end to end. This is the logical relationship AND. A pentode ispluggedinparallelwithanotherpentode,sothecurrentflowsifeitherison.Thisis the logical relationship OR. A pentode is plugged together with a signalinverter,sothatthecurrentswitchesoffifitwason,andonifitwasoff.ThisisNOT.Andthat’sallittakes.Wiredtogetherintherightorder,thesearetheonlymoves required tomechanise thewholepanoplyof reasoning; to set theyes–nopicturegrowingtowardsthecomplexityofaRembrandtintheHermitage.SixteenofAND, six ofOR and three ofNOT, arranged in a branching tree,make thisboardcapableofadding.Itcanaddthe1inourfirstpentodetoazeroinanotherpentode,andproduce(ofcourse)1;thenaddthat1toanother1carriedoverfroma previous addition, and produce 0,with an extra 1 to be carried over in turn,downawiretothecircuitboardnextinthestack,wherethenextadditionisabouttocommence.1plus0plus1equals0,carry1.Ofcourse,SergeiAlexeievich,sittinguplatein1943manipulating1sand0swithapencil,coulddothishimself,andoperationssomuchmoredemandingthatthecomparisonisridiculous.Buthecouldn’tdoitinoneten-thousandthofasecond,anddoitagainadinfinitumeveryten-thousandthofasecond.Here’sthepowerofthemachine: thathavingbrokenarithmeticdown into tiny idiot steps, it can then execute those steps at inhumanspeed,forever.Oruntilavacuumtubeblows.And in fact ten thousand operations per second is no longer so very fast, as

these thingsgo.ThecomputerLebedev isplanningwill, of course,use thenewtechnologyof transistors,andreplaceallof thosered-hot filamentswithmodestsemiconductingnuggets.Butevenwithvacuumtubes,hecanbuildamachinethatruns far quicker.He has done it already: theBESM-2 is the cut-down civilianversionoftheM-20,socalledbecauseitworksattwentythousandoperationsasecond.TheM-20hasscarcelybeenglimpsedoutsidethelaboratoriesrunbytheMinistry ofMiddleMachineBuilding,whosemiddlemachines are all the kindthathaveablobofplutoniumattheirheart,andrideontopofmissiles.Virtuallythewholeproductionrundisappearedatoncetothe‘mailbox’townsyoucannotfindonanyprintedmap.And,more secretly still, anM-40exists, andanM-50too. He built these to act as the brain of the USSR’s embryo missile defenceproject. They sit at present in an air-conditioned bunker in the Kazakh desert,cabled up to six different radar installations as inputs, and to a ground-to-airrocketbatteryasanoutput.SilosoverintheUkrainelobdummynukeseastwardtowardsthetestsite.Intheslimintervalbetweendetectinganincomingroundandthe moment it becomes too late to intercept it, Lebedev’s computers have to

calculateacourseforthecounter-missiles.Outinthedesertabarbed-wirefencemarksoffatargetzoneexactlythesizeandshapeofthecityofMoscow.Fortwoyears, ICBMs dropped unmolested onto this imaginarymetropolis; but then themachines started to score hits, putting the rocket streaking up from the ochrescrubland close enough, if it were loaded with its own live warhead, to haveengulfedtheattackerinaballofnuclearfire.Lebedevisn’tsurehowpracticalhethinksitwouldbetodefendtherealMoscowwithnuclearairburstsoverhead.Butsomefine,demandingworkhasgoneintomakingthesystemfastenough.Thoughitisonlyattheproof-of-conceptstage,Khrushchevisalreadyhintingandboastingaboutitatpressconferences.‘Wecanshootdownaflyinouterspace,youknow,’saysMrK.TonighttheBESMiscalculatingneithertrajectoriesnorthedestructivedetails

of one of theMinistry’sman-made suns. The stack of thirty-nine circuit boardsfinishesaddingthestringofbinarydigitsitisworkingon;thendoesitagain,andagain, and again, because this is a multiplication, which the machine can onlyachieve by adding the amount it is multiplying, over and over, with lightningstupidity.A littleover ahundredthof a secondpasses.TheBESMhasa result,andsendsitoutofthearithmeticalprocessoraltogether,astringofthirty-nine1sand0stobeparkedinarowofthemagnetisedchunksofferritewhichserveastheBESM’smemory.Anotherlineofferritecoresgivesupanotherstringofthirty-nine1sand0s,andsends itback tooccupy theprocessor instead.This isnotanumber:itisthenextlineoftheprogramtheBESMisrunning.Thefirstsixdigitsareaninstruction,tellingtheBESMtocomparetheresultitjustarrivedatwithapreviousresult,storedatanaddressinthememoryindicatedbytheotherthirty-threedigits.Laboriously, shufflingnumbersandpiecesofprograminandoutoftheoneplacewhereitcanpayattentiontothem,likeapersonwhosetable-lampilluminatesonlyonelittlecircleofavastcluttereddesk,theBESMdiscoversthatthenewnumberislargerthantheoldnumber.NowtheprogramgivestheBESMacommand which is not absolute, but conditional, and we move from purearithmeticintosomethingdifferent,intotheworldofsupposition,ofhypothesis,ofwhatmightbe.If–saystheprogram–thenewnumberislarger, thentwitchthefiguresslightly,byonepre-setincrement,andgoback;gobacktoanearlierstepintheprogramitself,byfishingoutofthelineoftheprogramtobefoundjusthere,andthenproceedagainthrougheverystepinbetween.Thefaithfulidiotcomplies.Rounditgoes.Itisexecutingaloop.Anotherhundredthofasecondpasses.Androunditgoesagain;aroundandaround.TheBESMcycles tirelessly throughthesameinstructions,workingthesamechangesonveryslightlydifferentnumbers.Itwillgooncyclinground the loop till thecomparisoncomesoutdifferently.Ah:nowithas.Meaninghasbeenadvanced.Thepicturehasbeendumblyrefined.A

pictureofwhat?Compared to the BESM’s operations, so rapid and so simple, Sergei

Alexievich’sthoughtsdriftasslowasthebluetwistscurlingupfromhisKazbek,andexpandinasmanydirections.He’sreflecting,ashesometimesdoes,on thefrustrationsofworkingforthemilitary.It’snotthathehasanyproblemwithwhathis machines are used for, behind the wall of secrecy. He remembers – hisgenerationcan’t forget– the locust advanceof theNazis in1941and1942.Hedoesn’tgrudgeanyuseofhistimethathelpspreventthatterribledevouringfromever happening again. The trouble is that the secrecy is slowing down thetechnology.Hisownbestworkissequestered.Themilitarytuckitawaywhereitcannotinfluencethestateoftheart;andsinceonlyahandfuloffinishedmachinesare ever required, there is never the chance to find out what good things yetundreamed-ofmight come, if therewere just the chance toplaywith the stupidpowerhecreates.Hehastoadmit,ontheotherhand,thattherearecompensations.Themilitaryarefirstinthequeueforeveryscarceresource,andwhenyouworkforthem,youborrowtheirstandingasthecountry’smostfavouredcustomer.Hesmiles to himself, remembering the story his rival Izaak Bruk told him: abeautifully blatant demonstration, from ten years ago, of what military supportcouldmean.BrukhadsentagraduatestudenttotheSvetlanaVacuumTubeFactoryinLeningradtopickoverthelatestbatchofpentodes,forwithtube-basedlogic,the factor limiting the operating speed is the quality of the tubes. Plug-in rig tocheckthepentodes,letterofintroduction–andthechiefengineeratSvetlanastillsenttheboyawaywithafleainhisear.ButthephysicistsoftheSovietH-bombprojectwereclamouringforBruk’smachineatthePowerEngineeringInstitutetobeupandrunning,andhe’dbeengivenaphonenumbertoringincaseoftrouble,and a codeword flower tomention. The boy dialled the number.He said, ‘I’mhaving some trouble buying my, er, tulips.’ In an apartment on the NevskyProspekt,oppositeaknitwearshop,politepeopletookdownthedetails,andtoldthestudenttowaittwodaysandtryagain.Twodays,because‘WeonlyactattheleveloftheRegionalPartyCommittee’,anditwouldtakethatlongforthetwistingof arms to work all the way back down to the Svetlana chief engineer. Sureenough, two days later the reception at the plant was all smiles. The Svetlanapeoplecouldn’tdoenoughtoloadthestudentupwiththeverybesttheyproduced.This too, of course,was a loop; avery characteristic human loop in theSovieteconomy.Ifthesignalthatajob’simportantisn’tstrongenough,itcanbeledawayaroundacircuitofimportanthumanbeings,eachhavingalittlewordonthephonetothenext,eachboostingthesignal, till itarrivesbackwhere itstarted,able totriggeraction.TheBESM.Apictureofwhat?Ofpotatoes.Theelectronsflowingthroughthe

vacuum tubes represent digits; and tonight the digits the BESM is processingrepresentpotatoes.Not,ofcourse,potatoesas theyare in themselves, theactualtubers,sooftenfrost-damagedorgreenwithageorwartywithsproutingtubercles– but potatoes abstracted, potatoes considered as information, travelling intoMoscowfrom348deliveringunitsto215consumingorganisations.TheBESMisapplyingLeonidVitalevich’smathematicstothetaskofoptimisingpotatodeliveryfor the Moscow Regional Planning Agency. Seventy-five thousand differentvariablesareinvolved,subjectto563differentconstraints:thisproblemisoutofreachof fingers and slide rules.But thanks tocomputers, thanks to theBESM’sinhuman patience at iterating approximate answers over and over again, it is aproblemthatcanbesolved.TheBESMisusingLeonidVitalevich’sshadowpricestodowhatamarketin

potatoeswoulddoinacapitalistcountry–onlybetter.Whenamarketismatchingsupplywith demand, it is the actualmovement of the potatoes themselves fromplace to place, the actual sale of the potatoes at ever-shifting prices, whichnegotiatesasolution,bytrialanderror. In thecomputer, theeffectofapossiblesolutioncanbeassessedwithout thewastefulreal-world to-ingandfro-ing;andbecausethecomputerworksatthespeedofflyingelectrons,ratherthanthespeedofatrundlingvegetabletruck,itcanexplorethewholeofthemathematicalspaceofpossiblesolutions,andbesuretofindtheverybestsolutionthereis,insteadofsettling for the good-enough solution thatwould be all therewas time for, in aworkingdaywithpotatoestodeliver.Youdon’t,infact,havetolookasfarawayas thecapitalistcountries tofindamarket forpurposesofcomparison.There isstillamarketinpotatoes,righthereinMoscow:theleftoverscrapofcapitalismrepresented by the capital’s collective-farm bazaars, where individualkolkhozniks sell the produce from their private plots. Somehow, in the hardesttimes, therearealwayspilesofgreen leekshere,andfatgeese,andmushroomssmelling damply of the forest, and potatoes dug that morning; all so expensiveyou’d only shop here if money was no object, to stock up for a birthday or aweddingparty.Whenthetradeisbriskest,therecordingclerkssallyoutfromtheMinistry of Trade’s little booths and walk among the stalls, carefully writingdownprices.Buthowslowitis!Howslowlythingsmove,ascustomersjostleinthese trianglesofwastegroundnext to the city’s bus stations and train stations,comparedtothetenthousandoperationspersecondoftheBESM!Themarket’sclockspeedislaughable.Itcomputesattherateofababushkaina

headscarf, laboriously breaking a two-rouble note for change andmuttering thenumbersunderherbreath.Itsstockarrivesonesackorbasketatatime,clutchedonapeasantlap.Itcalculatesitspricesoncardboard,withastubofpencil.Nowonder that Oskar Lange over in Warsaw gleefully calls the marketplace a

‘primitive pre-electronic calculator’. In the age of the vacuum tube, it’s ananachronism,goodonlyforaddingasmallextrasourceofhigh-pricedsupplytothe system, for those moments when the modern channels of distribution can’tquite satisfy every consumer need. And now even that function is becomingobsolete. When Leonid Vitalevich’s program reorganises Moscow’s deliverysystem,theefficiencygainsshouldfillthestateshopswithenoughcheappotatoesforeveryone.Now,asthesecondspass, theBESMissteadilyshavingawaytheaveragepotatodeliverydistanceinthecapital.Atpresent,itseems,aspudmusttravelanaverageof68.7kilometresfromcold-storetoshop:butinthebasementof the Institute of PreciseMechanics it is already clear that 61.3 kilometres ispossible,60.08kilometres,59.6kilometres,andstilltheprogramisshowingthatthe optimum has not yet been reached. The shorter the distance, the fresher thepotato,thesmallerthespoilage:thisisthebestindexofsuccesstheprogrammerscancomeupwith,sincepriceassuchisnotavailabletothemasaquantitytobeminimised.Thestatesellingpriceofpotatoeshasbeenfixedformanyyears.57.9km,56.88km.This is verynearly a 20% improvement.SoonMoscow’spotatosupplywillbe20%better.55.9km,54.6km.It’sanewworld.Ah, thinksLebedev, thehigh-ups love this stuff.Alwayshavedone, sincewe

turned the very first machine on. Nazarenko, from the Ukrainian CentralCommittee, came to see it, in the tumbledownmonastery building outsideKievwherewebuiltit.‘Sorcery!’hesaid,andwinked,asifwe’djustshownhimthecleverest conjuring trick in theworld.Which Lebedev supposes they had, in away; thrown some wires and some vacuum tubes into a hat, and pulled freebrainpower out of it. It was the kind of magic a goodmaterialist could enjoy,certifiably theproductof scienceeven if it looked likeawonderoutof theoldtales.Askthecomputeranditwouldobey,asreadyasagenieinabottle–andasintolerant of badly-framedwishes.At first thepoliticians hadonlywanted it toworkitsmagiconweapons.Then,withStalindead,andacautiouspragmatismintheair,they’dbeenwillingtoseewhatelseitmightdo;andnow‘cybernetics’isuniversally caressed and endorsed, very nearly the official solution to everySovietproblem.RumourhasitthatitsmagicwillbebrandishedinthenewDraftProgrammefortheParty,thedocumentthatisgoingtolayoutKhrushchev’splanforreachingparadise.Anobliginggenie;atimelygenie.Ifitcanshootdownaflyinouterspace,itcancertainlysortoutafewvegetables.Andthebestofthemagicis, for thepoliticians, thatcomputerspromise to lendspeedanddecisiveness towhat the Soviet Union does anyway. They’ll make the plans run quicker. Theywon’t require the digging up of what has already been achieved, or demand areconfigurationoftheworldthatmightdisturbthingsonlyjustbeneaththesurfaceofthiskindertime.Lebedevisn’tsosure.Heseesthatnewtechnologydoesneed

newformsofhumanorganisation,todoitjustice,toletitworkthemagicofwhichitiscapable.Themomentmaycomewhenthechoicehastobemadetoacceptthenewmachines’powerstodisturb,orelsetoforgowhattheycando.Hehopestobeready,withargumentsandalliances,ifthatmomentcomes.Because,ofcourse,hisownchoiceisalreadylongmade.It’stimetocallitanight.Hegathersuphispapers,slidesthemintothesecurity

briefcasehe’llleaveatthesecuritypostinthelobby.Hecannotfindhisownworkmagical,notinanysenseofthewordthatimpliesmystery.Heknowsitsinnardstoowell.Andyet there’ssomethingabout thewaymutemattermountsup inhismachines, and up and up, pattern upon pattern, until itmanifests the patterns ofthought,which still strikes himwith reliablewonder. The earliest computer hebuilt used soundwaves echoing throughmercury for amemory.Themercury islonggone,exceptinhis imagination:where,withthelogicofdreams,heknowshis calling is tomake thinkingpools of quicksilver,with theworld reflected inthem.In the bright pool of theBESM, imageswaver and crease ofMoscow’s 348

potato deliverers, its 215 potato consumers. The economists recognise thedifficultyofgettingacomputermodeltomirrortheworldtruly.Theydistinguishbetween working ot zadachi, ‘from the problem’, and ot fotografii, ‘from thephotograph’.Itwouldalwaysbebettertobeabletoworkfromtheproblem,andtomakedirect enquiries intohoworganisations really function,butusually it isonly practical to work from the photograph, and to follow the data theorganisations give you. This calculation, alas, is from the photograph. It dealswith potato delivery as it has been reported to Leonid Vitalevich and hiscolleagues. There has been no time to visit the cold-stores, interview themanagers, ride on the delivery trucks. But the program should still work.Conditionals,again:itwillwork,ifthefiguresarereliable.Itwillwork,ifitisindeed possible to redirect the flows of potatoes at will in the way that theprogram decides is efficient. It will work, if the loops by which the programoptimisesarecompatiblewiththeloopsinSovietlifethatgetthingsdone.It’sapointofview.

Notes–II.2FromthePhotograph,1961

1ButtheBESM-2ishardatwork;andsoisitsdesigner:forthehistoriesoftheBESMandofSergeiAlexeevich Lebedev, see Boris Nikolaevich Malinovsky, Pioneers of Soviet Computing, ed. AnneFitzpatrick, trans. Emmanuel Aronie, pp. 1–22. Available at www.sovietcomputing.com. See alsoD.A.Pospelov&Ya.Fet,EssaysontheHistoryofComputerScienceinRussia(Novosibirsk:ScientificPublicationCentreoftheRAS,1998),andthechapteraboutLebedevandtheveryfirstSovietcomputerinMikeHally,ElectronicBrains:StoriesfromtheDawnoftheComputerAge(London:Granta,2005),pp.137–60.

2And,more secretly still, anM-40exists,andanM-50 too: forLebedev’s computers for theSovietmissile-defence project, and the imaginaryMoscow in theKazakh desert, seeMalinovsky,Pioneers ofSoviet Computing, pp. 101–3. For ‘military cybernetics’ in general, seeGerovitch,From Newspeak toCyberspeak .

3‘Wecanshootdownafly inouterspace,youknow’:Malinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing, p.103

4 Remembering the story his rival Izaak Bruk told him: see Malinovsky, Pioneers of SovietComputing, p.70,whichdoesnothowever specify thecodename flower thevacuum tubebuyerhad tomention.Aswellassupplyingtulips,myrenditionofthestoryhasalsosimplifiedthebureaucraticlevelatwhichthepolitepeopleoppositetheknitwearshop(real)operated.Theyactuallytoldthestudent,‘Weonlyactatthelevelofraikomthirdsecretary.’

5TheBESM.Apictureofwhat?Ofpotatoes:thepotato-optimisingprogrammefortheMoscowRegionalPlanning Agency was absolutely real, but was not written until 1966, and therefore probably ran on aBESM-6 or an M-20 rather than a BESM-2. It belongs, truthfully, to the period of slightly chastenedmoderate-sizedimplementationsof‘optimalplanning’,ratherthantotheearlyperiodofgrandexpectations.Ihavecheated,andbroughtitforwardintime,inordertogivetheoptimismof1961somedefinitenarrativesubstance. Altogether, in fact, this fairytale version of the history of mathematical economics needs toconfess to tidying and foreshortening themovement from hope to despair it chronicles. The numbers ofdelivering and consuming organisations are authentic, and the variables and constraints; the dwindlingkilometre-numbers are made up from thin air. For this and other 1960s experiments in mathematicalplanning, see Michael Ellman, Soviet Planning Today: Proposals for an Optimally FunctioningEconomicSystem(Cambridge:CUP,1971),andPlanningProblemsintheUSSR.Othersources,withoutEllman’sbite and analytical clarity, are JohnPearceHardt, ed.,MathematicsandComputers in SovietEconomicPlanning (NewHavenCT:YaleUniversityPress, 1967), andMartinCave,Computers andEconomicPlanning:TheSovietExperience(Cambridge:CUP,1980).

6TherecordingclerkssallyoutfromtheMinistryofTrade’slittlebooths:amongotherthings,asaninformation-gatheringexercise,tocollectasetofmarket-clearingpriceswhichcouldthenbeusedtohelpestablish the price level for the bulk of food trade, in state stores. The state pricewas always cheaper,guaranteeingthatfoodatthestatepricewouldalwaysbeinshortagerelativetothemoneyavailabletopayforit,buthowmuchcheaperitwasvaried,dependingbothontheirregularjumpsoftheofficialpricesandthemorecontinuousadjustmentofthemarketprices.SeeChapman,RealWagesinSovietRussiaSince1928;asChapmanpointsout,thepremiumthatcouldbechargedatthekolkhozmarketgivesameasureofhowdifficultfoodwastofindatthestateprice.InrelativelygoodtimesforofficialSovietagriculture,thepricesranrelativelyclosetogether;inbadtimes,theydivergedwildly.AccordingtotheNarkhozstatisticalalmanac for 1968, between 1960 and 1968 kolkhozmarket prices rose 28%: see Ellman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

7Nowonder thatOskar Lange over inWarsaw gleefully calls themarketplace a ‘primitive pre-electroniccalculator’:notinprinthedidn’t,infact,until1967.SeeOskarLange,‘TheComputerandtheMarket’ in C. Feinstein, ed., Capitalism, Socialism and Economic Growth: Essays Presented toMauriceDobb (Cambridge: CUP, 1967), pp. 158–61. But the idea that the computer had conclusivelyresolvedthesocialistcalculationdebateinsocialism’sfavourwasverymuchacommonplaceoftheearlysixties.

8‘Sorcery!’hesaid,andwinked:seeHally,ElectronicBrains.9Universallycaressedandendorsed,verynearlytheofficialsolutiontoeverySovietproblem:see

Gerovitch,From Newspeak to Cyberspeak . Cybernetics did appear in the Party Programme: see thecompletetextoftheprogramme,andcommentaries,inLeonardSchapiro,ed.,TheUSSRandtheFuture:AnAnalysisoftheNewProgramoftheCPSU(NewYork:InstitutefortheStudyoftheUSSR/FrederickA. Praeger Inc., 1963). First had come the oppositional stage, during which cybernetics was officiallycondemned and seemed to scientists to represent a language of de-ideologised honesty. Then came thisperiodofofficialacceptance,andexcitedclaimsforcybernetics’ reformingpowers.Laterwouldcomeaperiodofdecay, inwhichSovietcyberspeakbecameonemorevarietyofofficiallysanctionedvacuity,assatirised(forexample)inAleksandrZinoviev’sTheYawningHeights,translatedbyGordonClough(New

York:RandomHouse,1978).10Otzadachi,‘fromtheproblem’,andotfotografii,‘fromthephotograph’: thedistinctionisdiscussed

inEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.Both conservative criticismofmathematical economics, forinstance fromwithinGosplan, and criticism bymore radically sceptical economists, like JanosKornai ofHungary,oftenfocusedontheobviousweakness involvedinworking‘fromthephotograph’.SeeKornai,Anti-Equilibrium(Amsterdam,1971);foraGosplancritiqueofreformingimpracticality,twentyyearslaterbutdirectedatmuchthesametarget,seeMichaelEllmanandVolodyamirKontorovich,TheDestructionoftheSovietEconomicSystem:AnInsiders’History(ArmonkNY:M.E.Sharpe,1998).Tosomeextentthedistancefromthesystematwhichtheoptimiserswereworkinghadtodowiththeirstatusasun-trustedacademicoutsiderstotherealoperationofindustry.ItalsofollowedfromthepowerfullyabstractingnatureofKantorovich’smodels,whichcould reduceawhole technology to the letter ‘t’ inanequation.But theoptimisers of course saw and understood the difficulty: itwas one reason for their increasing interest insystemsofindirectcontrolwhichdidnotrequirecompleteinformationatthecentre.

StormyApplause,1961LuckySashaGalich.LuckySasha,withhischeekbonesandhiscurlyhairandhisscarftiedlooseroundhisnecklikeabannerofrelaxation.LuckySasha,makingitlook easy, noodling at the keys of the piano in his flat full of antiques nearAeroflotkskaya,writinganotherhit song;orpeckingoutmorewittydialogueonhis neat little typewriter. A trifle grizzled as his forties began, but no lesscharming. Lucky Sasha, trusted and caressed, with his indulgent wife and hisactress girlfriends andhis trips toParis. Foreigners likedhim, but he knewhisduty. He never crossed a line. He never caused unpleasantness. And so therewardsoftalentshowereddownuponhim.Lucky,luckySashaGalich.

*

Hewasearlyfor lunch.Heexpectedtowait,andhavingrisenlatewithaslightlegacy of the night before, was quite looking forward to a little indoor time,parkedintheshadeofaquietcorridor.ButinsteadMorin’ssecretaryusheredhimstraightacrossthemainfloorofthenewspaperofficetoaglass-walledcubeatthecorner of the tower. The view down the boulevard pointed all the way to theMoscowRiver, and the cloudswhich had seemed to promise the first snow ofautumnanhouragohadbeendrivenback.Suddenlythecitywasroofedinbrightair.Through the thickglassofwindows, it lookedas if ithadbeencapped inalensofblue.Morinwasinconference.Alineofgalleyproofswaslaidoutonalongtable,

andhewassteadyingaparticularpageabouttwo-thirdsofthewayalongwithhiswidefingers,whileastringywomaninherlatethirtiesbentoverit,bluepencilinhand.As she spoke, a youngman atMorin’s elbow took rapid notes on a pad.Therewasanothermanintheroom,mucholder,headsunkonhischestashesat,notasleepbutexpressing inertia inhisentiredemeanour.This,Galichassumed,must be the paper’s nominal editor,Morin’s nominal boss: a relic,Morin haddelicatelyhintedoverthepokertable,stillgrimlyinpostbutreliantonMorintohandlethedisconcertingupsanddownsofthepresent.Andthewomanmustbethein-houserepresentativeofGlavlit.Galichrecognisedthetableaufromathousandscriptmeetings:StillLife,withCensor.‘Sasha!’saidMorin.‘We’realmostdone.D’youwanttotakeaseatforaminute

or two? I’m sure no one will mind. Gentlemen, Marfa Timofeyevna, may IintroduceAlexanderGalich–authorofmanyshowsyou’veseen,andmanysongs

I’msureyouwhistle.’Goodgrief,thoughtSasha.Theboywiththepadgavehimaquicksmile,froma

facewhichclosetohadasharphungrinesstoit;anorphanage-grownface,maybe,onceuponatime.Theeditorinthecornergaveagruntsoneutralitwasasifairhadbeenexpelledfromaholeintheground.MarfaTimofeyevna,though,smiledshyly, switched the blue pencil to her other hand and held out her right to beshaken,schoolgirl-wise.‘TheAlexanderGalich?’shesaid.‘Well,’saidSasha,‘theonlyonethereis,atanyrate.’‘IlovedMoscowDoesNotBelieveinTears,’shesaid.‘Ithoughtitwasjust–

sotrue.Sounderstanding.Andsucharemarkableplayforamantohavewritten.’Howwonderful,thoughtSasha,thecensorlikesmywork,thecensorthinksI’m

truthful.Butimmediatelyhefoundhimselfconstructinglivesforher,herwithhercarefully-chosencardiganandherunfortunatelylargenose.Liveswithhermother,gallery-goer, takes along aminiature score to concerts. Nevermarried.No:marriedonce,butonly forayear,and toamelancholic.Andautomaticallyhegazedatherwithwarmeyes,andkeptherhandinhisforamoment longer thanshewasexpecting.‘That’sverykindofyou,’hesaid.‘Ofcourse,Imostlynoticetheimperfections

inwhat Ido.Mywomenfriendskeepmeon thestraightandnarrow; I find thatsimplylisteningtowhattheysayisanenormousadvantageforawriterwhowantsto create plausible female voices.’ Skinny shanks, and probably hips like thebleached bones of a camel left in the desert to die. ‘But look,’ he went on, ‘Imustn’t keep you from your work.’ He could see over their shoulders that thegalleys bore a speech on them, a very long speech continuing in column aftercolumnofnewsprint,andthereforeprobablytheaddressthatKhrushchevwasdueto give to the Party Congress today. Here and there the unspooling paragraphswere punctuated by italicised rapture. Simple ‘(Applause)’ over and over;KhrushchevbeingKhrushchevanoccasionaloutbreakof‘(Laughter)’;butasthespeech gathered pace, ‘(Prolonged applause)’, and for the real peaks ofexcitement, the accolade a Soviet audience was never known to withhold,‘(Stormyapplause)’. The speechmight be being printed beforeMrK. actuallygaveit,butGalichfeltcertainthattheorchestrationindicatedbythegalleyscouldbereliedon.ThosewerecertainlythemomentswhenthetwothousanddelegatesunderthegreatKremlindomewouldboomouttheirapproval.Wouldthatatheatrecrowdwassoeasy.‘Please,’herepeated,‘don’tmindme.’‘That’sright,’saidMorinsmoothly.‘WehadbetterjustletMarfaTimofeyevna

finishkeepingusonthestraightandnarrow.’

Somehowhistoneashesaidthismanagedtosuggestboththatcensorshipwassilly, and that it was silly to mind it. Galich concededMorin a small internalround of (Applause), his headache whispering in his temples. He was highlyaccomplished himself at finding pleasure-giving, urbane descriptions of whatcouldn’tbehelped,butMorin,moreover,hadhittheprecisenoteofthemoment,liberally-mindedyetunchallenging,ironicyetinoffensive.The three bent back to their task. Morin smacked his lips together, as they

worked,inaseriesofcheerfullittlemusicalpops.Itwasthesamesoundhehadmade two nights before, contemplating the cards in his hand, and surprisinglyeffectiveatconcealinghowgoodtheywere.Galichdumpedhissatchelattheendof a long, deep, editorial sofa, and sat down, ready to make conversation ifrequiredwith thediscardedgreymonolith in thecorner:but theeditor-in-name-onlycontinuedtostaredourlyintospace.Hisageputhimintherightgenerationtohave inherited the paper sometime in the late thirties, the Morin of his timeperhaps, perfectly fluent in the brutish languageof thatmoment and so ready torisewhenalltheintellectualtypeswithfunny-soundingsurnameswereshakenoutoftheSovietnewspaperbusiness.Galichhadbeen,what,twenty,ridingthemetrodaily to his classes at the Stanislavsky Studio. Playing the guitar in the park.Falling in love. Getting laid. Getting elated. Getting his own first, all toosuccessful sense of how to speak the dialect of the age, and how to bend ittowardshappylaughter.Backissuesofthepaperwerearrangedinarack.Hepulledoneoutatrandom

andshookitopenlikeascreeninfrontofhisface.Letters;lettersfromreadersacrossthewholedouble-pagespread.Thiswasan

issue from a few weeks ago, he saw, during the famous consultation with thepublic over the Draft Programme. Like all the others,Morin’s paper had beencrammed. Rank by rank, column by column, eager citizens had written in withtheir tuppenyworth.Morin’spaperbeingametropolitan,enlightenedaffair,withan educated readership, a lot of the correspondence dwelt approvingly on theDraft’sproposalstoopenuplocalPartyelectionstomultiplecandidates,andtoimpose term limits for officials.ACorrespondingMember of theAcademy, noless,hadsuggestedthatthePartyshouldcommititselfto‘protectingineverywaythe rights of Soviet citizens’. But there were suggestions on an incrediblescattering of subjects. In the abundant future, there should be more planting ofpeas, please; more atheism; more tea-rooms; more television parlours inboarding-houses for single people; more labour-saving devices; more help forinventors; more defence lawyers; more deputies in the Supreme Soviet; moretaxis.Andallofthesuggestions,oneverysubject,wereenthusiastic.Galichhadno idea how spontaneous the letters could possibly be. Some were clearly

generatedby localPartymeetingsobediently feedingback thechosen themesofthemoment.ButtheeffectwasnotquitetheusualoneofseeingthecitizenryoftheSoviet Union claim that their every happiness was already embodied in somepolicyorother.Here,peopleseemedtobetryingtoaddtheirownwishestothegianttowerofwishesrearedupbytheDraftProgramme.Theywerestickingtheirwishestothesurfaces,theywerepokingtheirwishesintothecranniesofMrK.’spromisetomakethemtherichestpeopleintheworld.Peopleweredreamingthedreamalongwithhim; theywereworrying,worryinghelpfully, over itsdetails.Take themanwhowantedmore taxis.He’dnoticed that theDraftguaranteedanautomobileforeveryfamily,andnotjustanyautomobileeitherbutonewhich,likeall material blessings of full communism, would be ‘of considerably higherqualitythanthebestproductsofcapitalism’.Allwellandgood;butwherewouldtheybeparked, theseZhigulis so creamilypowerful theyputPorsche to shame,theseLadaspurringmorequietlythananyRolls-Royce,theseVolgaswhosedoorsclunked shut with a heavy perfection that reduced Mercedes-Benz to impotentenvy?Had theParty considered thenumberof garages thatwouldbe required?The ‘deleterious effect on the hygienic conditions of city life’? The extraroadworks?The–Galichshuthiseyesbehindthenewspaper,andlet the trafficproblemsoftheradiantfuturedeliquesceintoafieldoforangeandscarlet,criss-crossedwithshadows.‘Done,’saidMorincheerfully.‘Wherearewegoing,then,maestro?’Galichroserenewed,faceadjusted,fromthefoamofSovietnewsprint.‘I thought theWriters’Union?Not toofarforyou,andI’vegot toheadoutof

townthisafternoon.’‘Verygood,verygood,’saidMorin,rubbinghishandsinapantomimeofgreed.

‘Iatetherelastmonth,anditwasdee-licious.Im-peccable.Arealtreat.’Morinpulledona raincoatand ledhimback through thenewsroom,greeting,

flirting, finger-pointing as hewent, surprisingly light on his feet for a bigman.Outside,thedayhadbrightenedonenotchmore;thesnowcloudhadretreatedtothenorth-eastcornerof theheavensandwasstaying there, aknotofwhiteheldbackbysomeinvisiblecounter-attackofhighpressure.Therestoftheskyhadthecleanrichnessofhighsummer,onlywithoutheatordazzle.Ithadbecomeoneofthosedayswheneverythinglooksitsbest.ThewallsofMoscowweredustedwithlight.Newconcrete,bricksandstucco,oldplaster tinted in theediblepalateofice cream, mosaic on the merchants’ mansions, ruddy statues of the gods andgoddessesofSovietplenty–allofasudden,everythingglowed.‘YouseemtobeongoodtermswithyourMissMarfa,’saidGalichinthetaxi.‘Notasgoodasyou,myfriend.I’vebeenworkingwithherfortwoyears,but

thirtysecondsofyouracquaintance,andwhoosh,theairwasturningtosteam…’

Theylaughed.‘Notmytype,’saidGalich.‘Seriously,’Morinwenton,‘Idothinkit’sworthtryingforasmuch,ah,mutual

respect as possible.We all know how it can chafe at times. But you know theusual way things go, with the Glavlit rep as the perpetual outsider, alwaysresented,alwaysglancedat,alwaysthebadguywhostopsthewritersdoingwhattheywanttodo;andalwaysknowingittoo.Inmyexperience,ifyoutreatsomeonethatway,theyliveuptoit,orratherdowntoit.They’llsaynooutofspite.Butthisway,youshowalittlerespect,youbuildupalittletrust,andit’s…moneyinthebank.Glavlit aren’t unreasonable, if youapproach them the rightway.Theyhave their responsibilities, of course,whodoesn’t, but there’s always a certainamountofroomformanoeuvre,ifyou’veshownyourselftrustworthy.AndMarfaTimofeyevnaisawomanwithsomesensibility,yousawthat.Idon’tknowifyousaw theYevtushenkopoemwewere able to run, lastmonth? Itwasverygood;verystrong.’‘No,Imusthavemissedthat.’‘Ahwell,thepointisthatwhenitmattered,whentherewassomethingIreally

needed to get through, I could. I could look after my writers: that’s extremelyimportanttome.’Galich nodded sagely.Ah, that kind of lunch. Butwhat if, he didn’t say, the

censor’sspitewasnotjusttheirown?Whatifthespitewassharedandobdurate,andofferedno roomformanoeuvre, couldbeeasedbynoamountof charm?Acouple of years back, judging that the spasmof hate stirredupbyStalinwouldhavediedaway,andnormalservicebeenresumed,he’ddusteddownanoldplayofhis,aboutatypicalSovietfamily,bychanceaJewishone,andtheirstrugglesinthePatrioticWar.Inthestalls,attherehearsalmountedforher,thecensorturnedtohimandsaid, ‘Oh, so the Jewswon thewar forusnow,did they?’Nodandsmile,nodandsmile;backawayfromthemisstep,MrSashaGinzburg-working-as-Galich, before the contamination could spread. For a moment there, just aminuteago,hehadthoughtthatMorinmeanttopointouthowconvenientitwas,always having the censor take the blame; and thatwould have been interesting,that might have been the seed from which more than a professional friendshipcouldgrow;butreally,uncomfortablethoughtsdidn’tseemtobeinMorin’sstyle.‘You’rewellyourself?’hesaid,smilingacrossthebackseat.‘Oh, the usual ups and downs. My wife is trying to carry off the most

complicateddacha-swapyoucouldpossiblyimagine,andwekeephavingtohavethesecantankerousoldbastardstodinner,fromthecommittee;andmysonfinishesatMSU this next summer, and thegrad schoolhewants is likegolddust –youknow.Busy, busy, busy.Or, no,’went onMorin grinning, ‘I suppose youdon’t

know.It’sbachelorfreedomallthewaywithyou,isn’tit?’‘I’mmarried!’protestedGalich.‘Well,technically.FromwhatIhear,notinanywaythat,uh,slowsyoudown,’

said Morin. ‘You probably can’t even imagine these … domestic chains andshackles.’‘Oh, Ido try to imagine them.Formaterial, you see. I’mavery sympathetic

person.’‘Mm-hmm,mm-hmm.Actually,talkingofbusy–I’dbettersay,Ishouldn’tstay

outoftheofficefortoolong.It’squiteanewsday.’‘TheCongress,ofcourse?’‘The Congress of course. And everything that goes with it. Not that I’m

expectingtoomanysurprises’–anotherfinelycalibratedtwinkle–‘butthere’salottocovertoday.Justlookatitall.’Galich looked. They were swinging around the Inner Ring, crossing Gorky

Street, Nikitskaya Street, the Arbat, all the radial avenues that led inwardstowardstheKremlin.Eachofthemwasacorridorofflags.Butwhere,inthepast,themood aimed for at Congress time had been spartan determination, now theeffect was lighter. Happiness, said the city’s decor; hope, it added; youth, itremarked. And for once the real Muscovites seemed to harmonise with themessage,ratherthanlettingitdownwiththeirlumpishprivatefaces.Thisyear,thePartyCongresswaspromisingafuture,notofsacrifice,butofamyriadeverydaysatisfactionsrolledtogether intooneballofachievabledesire,andcrowdswhoundoubtedlydreamedof flats andcars, televisions and fresh fruit salad, flowedalongthesidewalks,steppingeasy;welledupatmetrosignsfromtheundergroundkingdom of granite and chrome, rock crystal and gilt. Girls dressed for colderweathercarried theircoats,checked their reflections inshopwindows.Stilyagisauntered by, quiffed and narrow-lapelled, too cool to flirt. Taxis idled at redlights,gunnedforwardinunisononthegreen.Andoutsidethehotels,middle-agedwomen with clipboards marshalled hordes of Africans in dashikis, slouchingCubans, Indonesians in little roundredhats,Egyptians indressuniform,angularIndianselegant insarisandNehru jackets, IraniansandArabsandMongolsandKoreansandJapanese.Moscow,capitalofhalftheworld;Moscow,withitsbestbib and tucker on. The skyline was spires and monoliths, Deco ziggurats andbarbers’-polechimneysbelchingsmoke,alltwinkling,allglittering,allshininginthesun.Itshouldhavemadehisheartlift.Lordknows,hepreferredthisversionofhis city to the raggedplace inwhichhehad first beenoneof the luckyones. Italmostlookedlikethehospitablehomeforamillionseparatestorieswhicheverygreatcitywas. It almost looked likeParis.ButhehadseenParis.Moreoverheworked in film: he saw this city, and he couldn’t help but notice the way its

surfaces habitually turned face-outward to be seen, instead of inwards for thecomfortoftheinhabitants.Herecognisedthethinnessofthescrim,thecuttingofcornerswheretheaudiencewouldhaveitsattentionelsewhereandbecontenttoregisterageneralblurofgrandeur.Thosedoorswouldbeoutof focusanyway:who needed to make sure they actually fitted their frames? The skyscrapersblocked out bold volumes of air, the walls of the city were receding planes,leadingtheeyebacktoaskypaintedonglass.Moscowwasaset,andlikeallsetslookedmoreconvincingfromthemiddledistancethancloseup.Hehadstartedtobroodlatelyonwhatwasbehindit;onwhatyouwouldfindifyoupeeledbackacornerofthepaintedhardboard.

*

Some kind of international problem had broken out on the kerb outside theWriters’ Union. Grigoriy, the doorman, was barring the way to two obviousforeigners.‘No–no–closed,’hekeptsaying,loudandsimpleanddesperate,buttheywere gesturing angrily towards the dining roomclearly visible through theground-floor windows, where waiters were coming and going with steamingtrays.‘MrGalich,’saidGrigoriywithrelief,‘canyoutalktothesetwo?Theydon’t

understandawordIsay.’‘Sh-sh-sh-sh. That’s fine, that’s no problem. Let’s all just calm down. Er –

Deutsch? Italiano? Français? Ah, Français.Messieurs, je vous prie de nousexcuser, mais ici, c’est pas un restaurant, c’est le club privé des écrivainssovietiques.I’mtellingthemthisisn’tarestaurant.’‘Ahmerde,’saidtheshorteroftheFrenchmen,whohadblackbristlesforhair

and the jowls of a disappointed dog. ‘Est-ce que ce ville ne contient pasvraimentun seulcaféouvert,un seulpetitbistro? ’Does this town really notpossessonesingleopencafe,justonelittlebistro?How to explain; how to explain that the doors of Moscow’s eating-places

indeed opened only to those entitled to pass through them, and that there wereremarkablyfewplaceswhereyoucouldhopetobefedsimplybyturningupwithmoney.Thesetwoshouldbeeatingtheirlunchwiththedelegationtheycamewith.Theymusthavewanderedenterprisinglyoff,tofendforthemselves.Somewhere,awomanwithaclipboardwastearingherhairout.Ah–‘Parhasard,vousêtespeut-etredesjournalistes?’‘Oui,’saidtheFrenchmancautiously.‘AgenceFrance-Presse.’‘They’rejournalists.Grigoriy,I’mgoingtoletthemin.Myresponsibility:I’ll

sortitoutupstairs.Encecas,’hesaidsmiling,‘vousvoustrouvezchezvous.Un

maison des écrivains, c’est aussi naturellement un maison des journalistes.Nousvoussouhaitonslabienvenue,commesnosinvités.’Andhavingtoldthemthat a house of writers was a house of journalists too, and welcomed them asguests, he ushered them up the steps, followed by Morin, amused but hangingunobtrusivelybehind.‘Isthisreallyallright,MrGalich?’saidGrigoriy.‘Yes.Don’tworry.’In fact it took twentyminutes in the secretariat upstairs to clearwhat he had

done,andtoseetoitthatIntouristwouldsendacarafterlunchtocollectthelostsheep.Whenhemadeitbackdowntothediningroom–havingbeenwaylaidtosignapetitionprotestingsomenewslanderbroadcastbyRadioFreeEurope–theFrenchpairweresettledatanobscuretable,eyeingthelinenandthesilverwareandthepaintedpanelling.Hesupposedtheywouldgetservedeventually.Morinwaswaitingataratherbettertable,andhadbeenequippedwithaglassofwine.Hewastakinginthecelebrityfloorshow–Ehrenburgholdingcourt;Sholokhov,intownfor theCongress,alreadyrosyroundthechopsanda little loud–butalsocovertlyglancingathiswatch.‘I’msosorry,’Sashasaid,slipping intohisseat. ‘–Yes,anotherglassof that

forme,please.Areyoustilldoingtheveal?Good.Vealforusboth.’‘It’sallright,’saidMorin.‘You’reamanofimpulse,that’sall.’‘Idon’tknow,’Galichsaid.‘Itjustseemedtomethattwoplatesoflunchwere

apriceworthpayingforafavourableviewoftheSovietUnion.’‘There you are, you see,’ said Morin, pointing a big finger at him, hairy-

knuckled. ‘That’s thekindof fearless thinkingweneed thesedays.Responsible,sincere–’MoremottoesoftheThaw.‘Oh,shutup.’‘All right, all right. But I mean it. Listen, since time is tight: I do have a

businesspropositionforyou.’‘Ithoughtyoumight.Goon.’‘Well.We’rerunningaseries.“Lifein1980”.Theideabeingtoputsome,ah,

meat on the bones of the future, to bring it to life for readers, from variousdifferentpointsofview.Youknow,political,economic,cultural,andsoon.’Theveal arrived: escalopes in a cream saucewithpeppercorns, on abedof

rice.Morincuthisup,spearedamorselandchewedblissfully.‘WhatdidIsay?Ex-quisite.’Galichwaited. ‘Theproblem’,saidMorin,wavinghis fork, ‘is thatthey’reallcominginabitdry.Takealookatthis–inconfidence,ofcourse,’andhe reached under the table to his briefcase and rummaged out a few pages oftypescript.‘The Universal Abundance of Products’, read Galich. He took out a pair of

readingglasseshepreferrednot toputon inpublic,and leafedforward throughthepapers.‘Food’,heread,‘shouldbetasty,variedandhealthy,andhavenothingin commonwith theprimitivegluttonyof curs or thepervertedgourmandismofplutocrats…Eachmemberofsociety’,heread,‘willobtainasufficientamountofcomfortable,practicalandhandsomeclothing,undergarments, footwear,etc.,butthis innowaypresupposessuperfluousnessorextravagance.’Hebegantolaughquietly, andwent on laughing as the author explained how, in 1980, everyone’sneedfor‘culturalgoods’wouldbefullysatisfied,butitwouldbesufficienttobeabletoborrowamusicalinstrument‘fromthepublicstoreroom’.‘That’s it?’he said. ‘That’s it?Thedreamof theages, and it comesdown to

mashedpotatoes,woollysocksandshareduseofatrombone?’Morin smiled uneasily. ‘As I said, it’s a little dry; not very inspiring. That

wouldbewhereyoucomein.Wewere thinking:apieceabout theworldof thefuturefromthepointofviewofthehumanheart.Howitwillchangeus,howwillitchangethewayweliveandlove,tobecitizensofatimewithoutscarcity?Thatsortofthing.Theprivatelifeofthefuture–notabadtitle,incidentally.’‘Comeon,youdon’tneedme.Youwant,what,ascience-fictionwriter.’‘No,no,wedoexactlyneedyou.Wesaidtoourselves,wedon’tneedanybody

elsewho’sanexpertaboutthefuture;whatwehavetohaveisanexpertinfeeling.This’–hetappedthetypescript–‘isallwellandgood,butitneedstobebroughtalive.Itneedsthelittletouchesthatsay:reallifeishere.Youcandothat.Youcanmakepeoplebelieveinit.’OhMorin,fuckyourmother.‘Doyoubelieve it?’ saidGalich,anddidn’t realise foramoment thathehad

actuallyvoicedit,thislatestoftheunaskablequestionsthatlatelyraninhishead,throughandbesideandaround theconversationshehadaloud; recklessshadowrepartee,plainanddrastic insteadofsmoothlydabbedwithnuance.Therewerewaystofindoutwhatpeoplethought,andtheywerepolitedancesofimplications,not thisbluntpublicassault. Ithadn’tbeenawish toknowMorin’sopinion thathadcaused thewords to slipoutofGalich’smouthnow.Buthehad said them.Thereseemedlittletodobuttofollowwithasmile,asnon-committalaspossible,assphinx-like,leavingMorintowonderabouthismotivesfortheprovocation.Morincoloured.‘Whataquestion!’hesaid.‘Mysubjectivereactionsare…I

mean, we can have this conversation’ – the poor boob really does want to befriends,thoughtGalich–‘butIdon’tthinkthisisthetimeortheplace,to,to…Yes,ofcourseIdo,’hewentonangrily.‘OfcourseIbelieveit.Thisisamomentof justified optimism, based firmly on the foundations of science. The ascenttowardscommunistabundance’,hesnapped,‘isaprofoundhistoricalprocessinwhich,asajournalist,Iamnaturallyproudtoparticipate.’Goodenoughforyou?

said his eyes.He ran a hand back through the damp cow-lick on his forehead.‘Honestly!Whathascomeoveryou?’Idon’tknow,Sashathought.EmbarrassingsomeonelikethatisthelastthingI

woulddo.It’sdangerous,andworsestill,it’snaive.ButIhavetosay,itdoesn’tfeelbad.Thesilencelengthened.‘Well,’saidMorin,afterawhile.‘Willyoudothepiece?’‘I’llhavetothinkaboutit,’hesaid.

*

Morin long gone, and another taxi, heading across the river in the stretchingshadowsofafternoontohisappointmentatMosfilm.Thewaterswayedlikedark-blue ink under the long bridges, crinkled here and there by the first licks of abreeze. Barges dragged triangles of churned white behind them. From thechocolate factory on the island opposite the Patriarchate drifted clouds ofinsinuatingsweetness,workingtheirwaythroughtheseamsofthecabandintothepiebaldupholstery.Thedriverhadtheradioon,relayingtheopeningspeechesofthe Congress and bursts of stormy applause, but Galich was gazing at his cityagain,andhearing thesoundtrack itwouldhave, if itwere filmedonaday liketoday. Basso brass for the barges and the smokestacks, muted trumpets for thetowers, tweedlingclarinets for thepedestrians, skittering timpani for the traffic,all saying urgency, expectancy, hectic charm. Gorky Park unreeled to the right;officesandworkshops,velodromesandslaughterhouseswentby;at thebendofthe river ahead, the ground curved up to a tree-lined ridge with the immensegoldenspikeof theuniversityrisingbehindit.Whathascomeoverme? thoughtSasha.Herememberedajoke.Whatisaquestionmark?Anexclamationmarkinmiddleage.Maybethatwasallthiswas,justhisarrivalatatimeoflifewhenthemusclesofcertaintybegin togo slack, anddoubtnaturally replacesvigour. Justthefirstdeliveryoftheuniversalscepticismofoldmen.Butthenwhydidhefindhimselfsomuchangrierthanbefore?It had been exciting, four or five years ago, to feel the space expand that a

writerwasallowedtoworkin.Whatcouldbesaidballooned,notbecauseithadbecomepermissibletodisagreeaboutanythingfundamental,butbecausesuddenlyit seemed that a huge area of human nature existed which could be exploredwithoutneedingtojostletheorthodoxies.PossibilitymadeSovietliteraturedizzyfor a while. You could write confused sons rather than authoritative fathers,disappointment rather than just contrasting shades of rapture, lyrical intimacyinsteadofmonotonousepic.Forawhile,hescarcelycaredaboutthelimitsofthis

new freedom, they were drawn so much further out than they had been, theypressedsomuchmorelightly.Butsoonhefoundhehadreachedthemallthesame.Themere logic of devising charactersmore freely got him there.Whymust theconfusionof the sons alwaysbedissolvedaway, at the endof thepiece, into agoodwillfeltbynopersoninparticular,yet,somehow,allingeneral?Why,inapieceofworkforgrown-ups,mustdisappointmentalwaysbeassuaged?Whymustlyricdefendnothinglargerthantheintegrityoffriendshipsroundthekitchentable?If anything, the frustrationwasworse now than it had been before.He had notknownwhathewasmissinguntilhewasarbitrarilyallowedafractionofit;thatwaspartofit.Andanotherpartwasthatthereasonforlimitshaddeparted.Ithadbeenacknowledgednow,onceforall,thatlifewasnotjusttheforwardsurgeofacrowd, everyone singing and shouting, everyone moving with that tumblingimpetuousnessthatinSovietfilmmadeevenshowingupatthefactorygatelooklike a spontaneousmarch on theWinter Palace. It had been admitted that othermoods, other tones of voice, existed and were necessary. And with that, therapturewasgone.Therapturehadbeenreal.Hemadehimselfrememberthat.Hehadhadoneof

thehappychildhoodsStalinhadpromisedwouldsomedaybeuniversal,andhadardentlydesiredtodefendit, tostopclassenemiesandkulaksandfascistsfromthreatening the components of thegoodplacehe lived in, as heknew them: thehardearthpathfromthedachatothelake,undertheresinypines,andtheyellowoilcloth lampshade in his parents’ book-filled apartment, and shovel-handedMasha the nanny, in whose name he loved all the peasant Mashas and Ivanspopulatingthegreatcloudylandscapebeyondthefamiliarstreets.Therewasfear,too,ashegotolder;butneveronlyfear.Heandhisfriendsadmiredtheirteachers,gazed up at the thrumming squadrons on Aviation Day, dreamed the approveddreams.Hehadbeenhappytoserve.Hehadbeenhappytobesqueezinguptheaislesofthetroop-trains,guitarheldoverhishead,andtofindthatthestuffhe’dpractisedreallyworked,compartments-fulloftoughandsurlyboyscrackingintosmiles at his teasing chastushki, singing along with ‘The Little Blue Shawl’,‘LadyDeath’andhisown‘GoodbyeMama,Don’tBeSad’.Tears in theireyes,some of them. Doubt had seemed a detail then; and he hadmoved through thedangerous world immune, encased in luck like a bullet-proof bubble. On onesingle occasion had he ever come close to danger, in ’49, during the anti-cosmopolitan campaign, wandering on a vague impulse of solidarity into ameetingoftheWriters’Union’sYiddishsection.Suspiciousfacesturnedtowardshimashewalkedintotheroom;everyonethere,ofcourse,asgoodaStalinistashim, but bearded, foreign, exuding a perfume of alien pickles. ‘D’you speakYiddish?’askedsomeone.‘No?Thenfuckoff,youlouchelittlemomzer.Visityour

rootssomeotherway.What,youthinkthisissomekindofaJewbuffet?Allthezhids you can eat?Out, out.’ Twoweeks later, the sectionwas disbanded, andmostofthepeopleintheroomwereontheirwaytoexecution.Onlythen,readingthepaper,didheunderstandthathe’dbeenprotectedbythekindnessofstrangers.Drip by drip, these last years, he had understood more of what had been

happeninginhisowntime,justaroundthecorner,justbehindthescenes,justoutof his sight, as if he hadbeen a child in a fairytalewoodwho sees only greenleaves and songbirds ahead, because all themonsters are standing behind him.Quiet conversations with a returned choreographer, almost toothless, who’dsurvived his ten-year stretch on dancer’s strength. Confidences from an uncle’sfriend,asecretpolicemanblurredbythebottle,whoknewthatyoungSashawassvoi, one of us, and could be trusted; so talked, in a kind of laughing shame, anightmarefitofgiggles,aboutthefamousyearof1937,whenthevanloadscameinsofastforthebulletthatthedraininthefloorofthebasementcorridorsometimesblocked,andsomepoorsodhadtofishinit,andpulloutmushandbonechipsandhanks of human hair. Putting two and two together from the silences in oldsoldiers’ talk. A little light reading done in Paris. The uncertain bursts ofrevelationinthenewspapersathome,sanitisedbycodephrasesabout‘breachesof socialist legality’.Khrushchev’sown secret speechof1956,passedalong tohim in the little red booklet stamped NOT FOR THE PRESS. A drip ofknowledgefromhereandadripfromthere,tillhesawthathisluckyworldwasfoundedonhorror.LikePetertheGreat’scitybesidetheNeva,hiscitywasbuiltuponalayerofcrushedhumanbeings,hundredsofthousandsofthem,orperhapsevenmillions.Andyouwerenotsupposedtomindtoomuch.Itwasenoughtobeassuredthatsuchthingsnolongerhappened,thatmistakeshadbeenmadebutwerenowcorrected.Itservednopurposetolookback.Itdidnogoodtotossinbedinyour elegant apartment and remember the ways in which you’d helped to givehorroritsshowbizsmile,itsinterludesofsonganddance.Andnow,justwhenhewascomingtohatehisluck,itseemedtobespreading

out, becoming general. He was not an economist; he had no idea what part ofKhrushchev’s promises was feasible. But the Sparrow Hills were one bigbuilding site. New boulevardsmarked out with pegs and string branched off aroadthatnotlongagohadbeenaone-lanestripofcountryblacktop.Therewerecranesoneveryroundedriseofground,andconcretepanelsdanglingfromthemswayeduptofillouttheskeletonsofendlessnewapartmentbuildings,blessedbythe bright air today like every other surface. The pale panelswere the hopefulwhiteofcleanpages.Youcouldlookatthemandfeelthatcockroachdayswerenearly over for the people who didn’t live among amber and inlay aboveAeroflotskaya.Nomorescuttling in thedarkand thedampfor them.Thecityof

lightwasrisingintheSparrowHills.‘Lotgoingon,’saidGalich,experimentally.‘Ah,NikitaSergeyevichisamiracleworker!’saidthetaxidriver.Didhemean

it?Or in othermoodswas he ready to pun onMrK.’s name and theword forslums,andcalltheseblockskhrushchoby?Impossible to tell;he’dsaid it in thedeadpanstylethatrefusedtocollapseintomeaningjustonething.NormallySashaadmiredthisfolkartofundecidedness,buttodayitonlymadehimfeelthemorealonewithhisprivateclotofdark.Moscowglowedlikeanicon,thefutureshone,andonlyhewasleftoutofthehappyconcord.Atthenextcorner,agiantbannerrippledandflappedagainsttheendwallofablock,withthehonestfaceofYuriGagarinonit,sixstoreyshigh,andunderneaththewordshewassupposedtohavesaid,back inApril,when they lit the rocketbeneathhim:LET’SGO.UpwardswithYuri!Uptothestars;upMrK.’sladdertotheheavens,whosefootstoodinamulchofbloodandbone.Theradioroareditsapproval.

*

LuckySashaGalich.Luckyhim, joking throughthescriptconference; luckyhim,chattingtothehoofersastheyrehearsetoday’sbignumber;luckyhim,homewardboundwithhislatestbeautifulyoungthing.Thoughlater,afterthey’vemadeloveandhe’sasleep,shestandsathiswindowoverlookingAeroflotkskaya,smoking,and feeling thathewithdrewfromher intosomeplacemuch furtheroff than theslightly rueful place you always go, when joined skins separate back into twocoolingislandselves.‘1980’,blinksredneoninthedistance,1980,1980,1980,asifthefigureswereallthelullabythecityneeds.It’sstartedtorain.She’dmeanttodiscusswithhimapartshe’dbeenoffered,outoftown,butthelead,andagooddirector; but somehow Sasha’s charm never let up long enough to give her anopening.Yes,shethinks,shewillgotoMinsk.There’snotmuchtokeepherhere.

Notes–II.3StormyApplause,1961

1LuckySashaGalich:formyportrayalhereofthesongwriter,screenwriter,playwrightandpoetAlexanderGalich(1919–77)Ihavedrawnheavilyonthebiographicalintroduction,‘SilenceisConnivance:AlexanderGalich’,toAlexanderGalich,SongsandPoems,editedandtranslatedbyGeraldStantonSmith(AnnArborMI:Ardis,1983),pp.13–54.SeealsoAlexanderGalich,DressRehearsal:AStoryinFourActsandFiveChapters,translatedbyMariaR.Bloshteyn(BloomingtonIN:Slavica,2007).

2 ‘I lovedMoscowDoesNot Believe in Tears’, she said: not the award- winning film of 1980, or IlyaEhrenburg’s novel of the 1930s, but themiddle oneof the three artefacts to bear the nameMoskva neslezamverit,aplayonwhichGalichcollaboratedin1949.Ihavenotbeenabletofindoutitscontent,anditisquitepossiblethatIammistakeninguessingthatitshowsasensitivitytothestrugglesofwomenwhichMarfaTimofeyevnatheGlavlit repwouldadmire.But thenMarfaTimofeyevnaisherselfpurefiction,no

moresubstantialthanthecloudsoverMoscow.3TheaddressthatKhrushchevwasduetogivetothePartyCongresstoday:for the real textof it,

completewithitalicisedrapture,seeCurrentDigestoftheSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.13no.45,p.25.

4Letters; letters from readers across thewhole double-page spread: the correspondence from theSovietpublicontheDraftof the1961PartyProgrammewasjustascopiousasI’verepresenteditbeinghere, and genuinely covered all the subjects listed here from peas to television parlours. SeeWolfgangLeonhard, ‘Adoption of the New Programme’, in Schapiro, ed., The USSR and the Future, pp. 8–15.However,theparticularletterabouttaxisintheimaginaryMorin’simaginarynewspaperwhichGalichlooksat here comes in fact from the postbag of the Party’s journalKommunist. SeeCurrent Digest of theSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.13no.42,pp.13–17;vol.13no.43,pp.18–23.

5 ‘Of considerably higher quality than the best products of capitalism’: again, see the text of theProgrammeinSchapiro,ed.,TheUSSRandtheFuture.

6The censor turned to him and said: ‘Oh, so the Jews won the war for us now, did they?’: fordramaticsimplicity I’veconflated thedress rehearsalwith themeetingnextdaywhenaversionof thesewordswasreallysaidtoGalich.SeeGalich,DressRehearsal.

7It’sbachelorfreedomall thewaywithyou, isn’t it?:AlexanderGalichwasmarried twice, in1941 toValentina Arkhangelskaya, from whom he separated in 1944, and from 1945 to his death to AngelinaNikolaevnaShekrot,whofollowedhimintoexilefromRussiainthe1970s,but‘didnotdemandfidelity…and took a rather ironic view of her husband’s romantic affairs’, according to www.galichclub.narod.ru/biog.htm.

8TosignapetitionprotestingsomenewslanderbroadcastbyRadioFreeEurope:aregulardutyoftrustedwriters likeGalich. The lunchwith the fictionalMorin, the episode of the French journalists, thetactlesslyvisibleground-floorrestaurantoftheWriters’Union–allcloud-moulded,alluntrue;butGalich’sstatusastheinsider’sinsiderisentirelyfactual.

9 ‘The Universal Abundance of Products’, read Galich: the quotations that follow are not from anewspaperfeatureon‘Lifein1980’,butalearnedarticlebyI.AnchishkinoftheInstituteofEconomicsofthe Academy of Sciences. See I. Anchishkin, ‘The Problem of Abundance and the Transition toCommunistDistribution’, inHarryG.Shaffer, ed.,The Soviet Economy:ACollection ofWestern andSoviet Views (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1963), pp. 133–8; originally published in VoprosyEkonomikino.1,1962.

10OntheislandoppositethePatriarchate:atthistime,theriversidesiteofthePatriarchatewasoccupiedbyapopularopen-airswimmingpool,whichhadfilledintheholeintendedtoaccommodatethefoundationsforagargantuanPalaceofSoviets.Asofthepresentday,allofthetwentieth-centurychangestothesitehavebeenreversed,andthePatriarchatestandsthereagain,asitdidin1900.

11Thesoundtrackitwouldhave ,ifitwerefilmedonadayliketoday:tomakeamoviesuchas1964’sYashagayupoMoskve,‘IWalkaroundMoscow’,directedbyGeorgiiDaniela;orZastavaIlicha,‘Ilich’sGate’,directedbyMarlenKhutsiev,whichwasmadein1961,butnotreleasedtill1965,underthetitleMneDvadtsat’Let,‘IAmTwenty’.

12Herememberedajoke .Whatisaquestionmark?Anexclamationmarkinmiddleage:authentic,andtaken,asarealltheSovietjokesinthisbook,fromSethBenedictGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’,PhDthesis,UniversityofPittsburgh2003

13HehadhadoneofthehappychildhoodsStalinhadpromisedwouldsomedaybeuniversal:hereIhavetakenthedataaboutGalich’schildhoodinthebiographicalessayprefacingGalich,SongsandPoems,and amplified it with some of the sights and sounds of happy (Jewish) Soviet childhoods of the 1930sevokedinSlezkine,TheJewishCentury,pp.256–7.

14Surlyboyscrackingintosmilesathisteasingchastushki:chastushkiareimprovisedsatiricalverses,designedtoprovokegood-humoured,onlyveryslightlyruefullaughterinthepersontheydescribe.Inventinginoffensively Stalinist chastushkiwhich were still funny must have posed problems of tone, which theyoungGalich,whoreallydidgooff toentertain the troops like this,waspresumablygoodatsolving.Thesongsmentionedarerealhitsof theGreatPatrioticWar; ‘GoodbyeMama,Don’tBeSad’ isa real tear-

jerkingnumberbytheyoungGalich.15WanderingonavagueimpulseofsolidarityintoameetingoftheWriters’UnionYiddishsection:

event real, dialogue invented. This was one of the indicative moments of the turn to undisguised anti-SemitisminthelateStalinistperiod.ThepositionofSovietJewshadbeenworseningsincetheNazi–Sovietpactof1938,but things tookasuddendownward turnafter thefoundationof theStateof Israel in1948,whicheffectivelyreclassifiedallJewsinStalin’seyesaspeopleofpotentiallydividedloyalties.AllexplicitlyJewishSovietorganisationswereclosed, includingtheYiddishSectionof theWriters’Union, theYiddish-language theatre, and the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, which had raised support for the Soviet wareffort among the western diaspora. As a result of these moves, a number of Soviet citizens who hadthoughtoftheirJewishnessasoneoftheleastimportantfactsaboutthemselvesbegantofeeldifferently.

16Quietconversationswithareturnedchoreographer: all thedetailshereofhowhecame tosee themonsters in thewoodaremadeup, thoughhewascertainlysvoi in thesense that theconcocteduncle’sfriendmeans,and therealhorrorsof thefamousyear1937did indeed include(forsecretpolicemen) theproblemsofdisposingofaverylargenumberofbodies,veryfast.WhoeverGalichhadconversationswith,theywereofakindtogethimwriting,eventually,songsthatweremistakenfortheworkofagenuineex-Gulagprisoner.

17Thewordshewassupposedtohavesaid,backinApril,whentheylittherocketbeneathhim:seeTheFirstManinSpace.SovietRadioandNewspaperReportsontheFlightoftheSpaceshipVostok ,compiled and translated by Joseph L. Ziegelbaum, Jet Propulsion Laboratory/Astronautics InformationTranslation22,1May1961(JPL,CaliforniaInstituteofTechology).

‘Do notworry,my soul,’ said thewisewife. ‘Go to sleep. Themorning iswiserthantheevening.’

PARTIII

In 1930 the Bolsheviks abolished universities. Only the two famous ones atMoscow and Leningrad survived, drastically truncated. But this was not anattackoneducationassuch,asinMaoistChinalater,orstillmoresoinKhmerRougeCambodia,wheretheauthoritieswouldaimatburningawayintellectuallifealtogetherandleavingalevelplainofpureignoranceasthefoundationfora new society. Nor was it an attempt to do without an intelligentsia. Theuniversitieswereclosedinordertoopenthemagain,massivelyexpandedandredesignedasfactoriesfortheproductionofanewkindofintellectual.TheBolshevikshadbeenhavingtroublewiththeoldkindofintellectualever

since the revolution. The tiny professoriat they inherited – a fraction of aneducatedclasswhichwasitselfasmallfractionofRussia’sliterateminority–wasshapedbyanethicaltraditionmorethanacenturyold.Pre-revolutionaryRussian intellectuals felt a sense of public obligation not shared by theirequivalentsabroad.Sincethebeginningofthenineteenthcentury,ithadbeenobvious to anyone educated that the tsarist regime was an embarrassing,oppressiveanachronism.Tobeoneof the lucky fewwhocouldreadabout theworldoutsidethereforegaveyouaresponsibilitytotryanddosomethingaboutRussia;usuallynotinadirectlypoliticalway,unlessyouwereoneofthosewithaverypronouncedbumpofidealism,butbybuildingupanalternativeRussiain culture, in novels and poetry and art where stupidity was not enthroned.Aboveall, tobean intellectualwas to feel thatyouwere,at leastpotentially,oneofthosewhospoketruthtopower.Byteachingandlearningatall,readingandwritingat all, youwere implicitly acting as awitness, as a prophet of alargerlife.These attitudes meant that while intellectuals largely welcomed the

Revolutionastheendoftsarism,veryfewofthemsignedupforLenin’sbrandofMarxism, evenwhen – or especially when – it had state power behind it.Indeed,anumberofscholarswhohadbeenhappytoteachMarxismbeforetheRevolution,asawayofstickingafingerintheeyeofpower,promptlystartedoffering courses in religious philosophy after it, to achieve the same effect.Mostof theParty’sown intellectualswereneeded, in theearlyyears, tokeepthe improvised apparatus of the Soviet Union going, so for a decade theuniversitieswere essentially left in the hands of the academics. The scholarswere purged and sometimes deported; they had university rectors anddepartment heads imposed on them; experiments with the admissions systemgave them, some years,mostlywar veteransor factoryworkers to teach; but

they continued to offer an education in criticism and argument. Collegebuildings were among the last places in the Soviet Union where it was stillpossible to find printed leaflets issued by the Central Committee, not of theBolsheviks,butofthedyingMensheviks,forlornlycallingforsocialdemocracywithoutdictatorship.By the end of the 1920s, however, the Party was in a position to enforce

ideologicalconformity.ThefirstFive-YearPlanhadjustbegun,and‘bourgeoisspecialists’ were being hunted out of industry and government. WithNarkompros, the ‘Commissariat of Enlightenment’, in the hands of Stalin’sallies, the bourgeois specialists of education were next. ‘It is time forBolsheviksthemselvestobecomespecialists,’saidStalininaspeech.And‘theworkingclassmustcreate itsownproductive-technical intelligentsia’.Hehadinmindsomethingverydifferentfromitspredecessor:aserviceclass,speedilyandnarrowlytrainedinthedisciplinesrequiredtooperateheavyindustry,withmembershipheldoutasarewardfortheloyalandtheambitious.First, the universities were abolished. Then, they were replaced by a

multitudeof‘VUZy’and‘VTUZy’,‘schoolsofhigherlearning’and‘schoolsofhigher technical learning’,usuallyallchaotically time-sharing the same oldbuildingstomaximise throughput.FromtheAgriculturalCollegeofVoronezh,forexample,thePoultryInsituteofVoronezhinherited‘eightsmallbenches,acorridor, and one lecture room (shared with the Mechanisation Institute)’.Students were drafted in in bulk from the Party itself, from its tame labourunions,fromnewlyestablishedshopfloorsandthenewlystarvingcountryside.Thesevydvizhentsy,‘promotees’,wereindeedworking-class,butmostlynotintheEuropeanorAmericansense that theybelonged toanexisting,urbanised,long-disadvantagedmassoftheindustrialpoor;theywererepresentativesofaclass that the Party’s own policy of crash industrialisation was calling intobeing. Their numbers swelled the system enormously. Where there had beenaroundthirtythousandold-stylegraduatesayearbeforethechange,thereweregettingonforahundredthousandayearbythesecondhalfofthe1930s.IntheParty alone, more than 110,000 people had studied for a degree, includingNikitaKhrushchev,AlexeiKosyginandLeonidBrezhnev.Bythattime,thingshadsettleddowninhighereducation,fromsomepoints

of view. Though spending was skimped – like spending on all present-tensehumanneeds–enoughmoneywasputintoendthejostlingscenesatthebackofeverylecturetheatre,wheretwentyorthirtystudentshadstruggledtosharea single textbook. Entry was, once again, by examination, and not just bypoliticalrecommendation.Theuniversities’ traditionalnamesandstylescreptback, in line with Stalin’s own preference for respectability and hierarchy.

Stalin had been willing to work with educational radicals, as part of hismeticulouscampaigntodestroyalltheindependentfactionswithinthePartybyfeeding them to each other, one at a time, but once he was in a position toimposehis tastes,hewanted to see tidy tsarist-style uniformson high-schoolboysagain.Hewantedlearningtolookaugustandvenerable.TheParty’srivaltotheoldautonomousAcademyofScienceswasabandoned,andeffortdirectedinstead into making sure that the Academy became a pliable, reliableinstrumentofprestige.But the change in the subject-matter of educationwas permanent. The old

universities had taught the European liberal arts curriculum. All of thatvanished, and technology took over. Almost half of all students now studiedengineering, following a fiercely utilitarian curriculum designed to feed theeconomywithspecificskills.Whentheygraduated,theyweresupposedtoknoweverything they required to go out solo and kick-start a power station, or ametalsrefinery,or a rail line.Next came the pure sciences,with physics andmaths leading the way, chemistry a surprising poor relation, and biology indeepideologicaltrouble;thenmedicine,disproportionatelystudiedbywomen,and ‘agricultural science’, intended to provide expertise to collective farms.Humanitiesdepartmentswerecloseddownaltogether–thoughafewhistoriansthenhadtobeputbackinbusiness,inordertoprepareschooltextsstuffedwithfigures and dates, and praise for previous centralising rulers. Literaturebecame‘philology’, a technical subjectmainly devoted to teaching themanylanguages required to rule the Soviet Union. Philosophy died, anthropologydied, sociologydied, lawandeconomicswithered: theParty regarded ‘socialscience’asitsownprivatetechnology,tobetaught tocadreswithinthePartyitself,anddispensed tocollegestudents in the formofcompulsorycourses inMarxism–Leninism.Cultureceasedtobetheresponsibilityofprofessors.Newfilms,plays,books

andpoemsemergedfromtheFilm-Makers’UnionandtheWriters’Union; theoldstuff,reducedtoaconservativeselectionofclassics,itbecamethedutyofevery ambitious citizen to know. The Party wished the Soviet public to bekulturny,atermwhichstretchedfrombrushingyour teethregularly toreadingPushkinandTolstoy.Therewasanironyhere.Ahard-workingpromotee,withanice clean background as aworker or a ‘poor peasant’,would get on in theworldbycarefullyreadingstoriesaboutaristocratsandprincesandbourgeoisfunctionaries – exactly the kind of people who would have been defined as‘sociallyalien’,as‘enemies’,iftheywerealiveinthepresent.Butitmatteredfar more that War and Peace or Eugene Onegin represented objects ofguaranteedqualitywhichordinarypeoplewerenowentitledtopossess.Noneof

thatavant-gardehootingandface-pulling,thankyouverymuch;justthebest,thegreatworksoftheRussianpast,ingold-stampedbindingsyou’dbeproudtohaveontheshelfofyournewapartment.Anditwasn’tasifcontinuitywiththepastwascompletelylacking.Therewasindeedastrandintheoldintellectualtradition–halfofitscoiledDNA–whichcouldbeadaptedasacredofortheserising Stalinist graduates. The Russian intelligentsia had always beencommittedtomodernisingRussia:andwhatwerethesechimneysbutmodernityon themarch? It had always thought of culture as something operating top-down,anenlightenmentspreadtothemanybytheeducatedfew:andwhatwasthe Bolshevikmission but an elite’s twentieth-century effort to raise lumpishRussiahigh?Ithadalwaysbeenpronetobelievinginpanaceas, inideasthatcould solve every problem all at once: and what was Bolshevism but theultimatekeytoopenall locks, thelastandbestandgreatestsystemofhumanknowledge? Believing these things, the new technological intellectuals werewilling to be told, werewilling to believe, that the task of speaking truth topowerwasnowredundant,becausetruthwasinpower.Bydefinition,friendsoftruth, friendsof thoughtandreasonandhumanityandbeauty,werefriendsoftheParty;friendsofStalin.TobeopposedtothePartywouldbetobecomeanenemyoftruth,andtobreaktheintellectual’sreponsibilitytotruth.With a reliable substitute in place for the old intelligentsia, Stalin could

afford to sweepawaymost of its survivingmembers in the purges of the late1930s, alongwithmost of his own political generationwithin theParty, andmost of the people, formed by the pre-revolutionaryworld, who had risen tolead industry, the army, the state bureaucracies. He was left with thepromotees:grateful,incurious,ignorantoftheworldoutsidetheSovietUnion,andwilling toaccept theStalinistorderas theorderof reality itself.Agreatsilencereignedaboutthepartsofintellectuallifethathaddisappeared.Soon,young people were unaware that things had ever been otherwise. In the newcurriculum,differentsubjectsexperienceddifferentfates.Thecloserasciencewastopracticality,themoreitwasco-optedintoservingthepracticalneedsofpower.Thecloseritwastothedangerousgroundofsocialscience,ontheotherhand,themoredistortedbyideologyittendedtobecome.Andthemoreabstractitwas, themore intellectuallyuncorrupted itwas likely to remain.The resultwas a landscape of intellectual lives laid out very differently from itscounterpartsabroad.WheretheUnitedStates(forexample)wasasocietyruledby lawyers,with a deepwell of campus idealism among literature professorsandsociologists,theSovietUnionwasasocietyruledbyengineers,withawellofidealismamongmathematiciansandphysicists.Law,economics,historyweresterile, insignificant fiefdoms, ruled by ‘little Stalins’, pint-sized intellectual

stand-insforthegreatmindintheKremlin.AfterStalin’sdeath,thesesubjectshad tobe revivedby incomers fromengineering and the pure sciences –whobroughtwith them the engineers’ faith in the solvability of problems, and thescientists’uncompromisingdelight inpurepattern.Biology continued tobeadisasterarea.The littleStalin ithadbeenhanded to,TrofimLysenko,wasananti-Darwinistcharlatanwhomanagedtoadapthimselfinthe1950stoplayingonKhrushchev’sinsecurities.Bythe1960s,theSovietUnionhadgonefrombeingoneofthemostilliterate

placeson theplanet tobeing,by somemeasures,oneof thebest educated. Itturned outmore graduates per head of population than any of the Europeancountries; only the American college system, with its tradition of massparticipation,didbetter.Entrywasbycompetitiveexamination,set locallysothatinstitutionscouldpickandchooseexactlytheintaketheywanted.Courseslasted for fouror five years, and studentswere expected towork steadily forthirty- five to forty-five hours a week, digesting the whole relevant body ofknowledge in their subject.Nothingwas dumbed-down except theMarxism –for having eliminated the tradition of independent Marxist thought in the1930s,therewasnowhereinthesciencestoreigniteitfrom.Thedrop-outratewashigh,understandably;buteveryyearalmosthalfamillionyoungmenandwomen completed the ordeal, and stood in the corridors of their universitysearchingthroughthethousandsuponthousandsofjobofferspostedthere.Universities were only for teaching, though. Research usually happened

elsewhere, in special institutes operated by the Academy of Sciences or thevariousindustrialministries,withscholarsflittingbackandforthbetweentheirprofessorships and their labs. At the crown of the system were the ‘sciencetowns’ built to house research work that had been designated as a strategicpriority,fromnuclearphysicsandaeronauticsthroughtocomputerscienceandmathematical economics. The people who lived here were among the mostprivilegedofSovietcitizens–andtheywereheldupaswell,inpopularculture,asforerunnersofthecomingworldofabundance.Notonlydidtheylive,rightnow,asallSovietcitizenswereshortlygoingtolive,withcommodiousflatsandlavishfoodsuppliesandgreenspacesallaround.Theyalsoworked,rightnow,in the way that everyone was supposed to, when abundance came – for thevoluntaryloveofit,treatingtheworkingweekastheirplaygroundratherthantheirburden.For themostpart, scientistsaccepted the idolising, justas theymostlyaccepted the legitimacyof thearrangementsofpower in their society.PhysiciststhemselvesenjoyedMikhailRomm’s1962hitfilm,NineDaysinOneYear, aboutadriven,wisecrackingnuclear researcherwho irradiates himselfsothathumanitycanhaveenergy.Alittlelater,theysmiledatthegentlesatire

oftheStrugatskybrothers’1965novelMondayBeginsonSaturday, inwhichasecret department investigates, appropriately enough, the magical objects inRussian fairytales. The scientists were confident; and in a curiousway, theywere also innocent. By now, they usually didn’t know what it was that theydidn’tknow,aboutthenon-Sovietexperienceofmankind.Internationalcontactswereopeningbackup,butfromaverylowlevel;‘specialcollections’offoreignmaterialwereavailable in libraries to senior scholars, buta separatepermitwas required on each visit, and you needed to know exactly what you werelookingfor.Sotheyevolvedtheirideaswithalmostnoreferencetoanalogies,to parallel cases, to the accumulated mass of situations in history in whichsomeone might have tried something similar. Above all, they had very littleaccesstopessimism.Storiesofgoodintentionsturningoutbadlywereinshortsupplywheretheylived–published,written-downstories,atanyrate.But there were frustrations. All of a sudden, for example, in 1958,

Khrushchevhadannouncedthatfartoomanyofthosegettingintouniversitieswere themselves thechildrenof intellectualsandwhite-collarworkers – andpassedalawthatharkedbacktothewildoldtimesoftheFirstFive-YearPlan.School-leaversnowhadtodotwoyearsofworkexperiencebeforetheywereletin.Thiswasunpopularwith students, unpopularwithparents, andunpopularwith academics, whose first-year physics students now had their fadingknowledge from school overlaid by two years of semi-skilled drudgery in awarehouse or a factory. It also rankled with the intelligentsia that, havingforswornthemorebrutalmethodsofensuringconformity,Khrushchevwasnowtryingtoachieveitbyexhortation.Whichmeantthat,from1961on,groupsofintellectuals were gathered together to be shouted at; sometimes byKhrushchev’s aide L.F.Ilichev, head of the Central Committee’s IdeologicalCommission, and surprisingly often, in crudeandungrammaticalRussian, bythemanhimself.(Contemporaryjoke:Khrushchevasksafriendtolookoverthetext of one of his speeches. ‘I can’t deny, Nikita Sergeyevich, that I did findsome errors. “Up yours” should be two separate words, and “shit-ass” ishyphenated.’) There were more specific grievances if you were a seriousbiologist, obliged to disguise your real research behind screens ofdissimulation; or if you were Jewish. In the 1930s, Soviet Jews had beenperhaps the most spectacularly mobile and high-achieving group in thepopulation,but thewaveofofficialanti-Semitism from the late1940sonhadbrought restrictionsandquotas. Seen inabsolute terms,more Jews than everbeforewere employed in the sciences in1960–33,500out of 350,000Soviet‘scientificworkers’,or9.5%of the total,whenJewsmadeuponly1%of theSovietpopulation–butcertainspecialismsandcertainelite institutionswere

closedtoJewishcandidatesaltogether,and,onthewhole,theroutetotheverytop was blocked. You had to be unignorably brilliant, now, as a Jew, to bepromoted as far as your ordinarily diligent and distinguished ethnicallyRussian colleagues – which left behind it the peculiar sting of a prizeconfiscatedafterithadoncebeengiven,ofanacceptanceturningconditionalwhenyou’dbelieveditwaspermanent.Gradually, something unexpected was begining to happen. These

frustrations,smallandlarge,hadstartedtodrawthescientists’attention toadifferencebetweenthekindofeducatedtheywere,andthekindthevydvizhentsyengineers running thePartywere.Thescientificmethod itself taught lessons,andso,infact,didreadingallthatcompulsoryTolstoy.Whentheyreflectedonthe idiocy of anti-Semitism in the country that defeatedNaziGermany,whentheyheardofKhrushchev’s red-faced rageover theAcademy rejectingone ofLysenko’sstooges,theystartedtosuspectthattruthandpowermightnotbesounited;thatwhatwasenthronedinRussia,afterall,mightbestupidity.

Notes–Introduction

1In1930theBolsheviksabolisheduniversities:forthereconfigurationofSovieteducationinthe1930s,Stalin’s call for a ‘productive-technical intelligentsia’, the rise of the ‘promotees’, and the ‘eight smallbenches’inheritedbythePoultryInstituteofVoronezh,seeFitzpatrick,EducationandSocialMobilityintheUSSR.

2Pre-revolutionaryRussian intellectuals felt a sense ofpublic obligation: the classical discussionofthe Russian intellectual tradition is Isaiah Berlin,Russian Thinkers, ed. Henry Hardy andAileenKelly(London:HogarthPress,1978).

3 Kulturny, a term which stretched from brushing your teeth regularly to reading Pushkin andTolstoy:seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.79–83.

4By definition, friends of truth, friends of thought and reason andhumanity and beauty, were…friendsofStalin: forStalinismasaneagerly-adoptedwayofbeingmodernandenlightened,seeJochenHellbeck,RevolutiononMyMind:WritingaDiaryUnderStalin(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,2006).

5Frombeingoneofthemostilliterateplacesontheplanettobeing,bysomemeasures,oneofthebest educated: for the Soviet university system of the 1960s and its social functioning, seeL.G.Churchward,The Soviet Intelligentsia: An Essay on the Social Structure and Roles of SovietIntellectualsDuringthe1960s(London:RKP,1973).

6MikhailRomm’s1962hitfilm:Devyat’dneiodnogogoda(‘NineDaysinOneYear’),1962.7ThegentlesatireoftheStrugatskybrothers’1965novel:ArkadyandBorisStrugatsky,Ponedelniknachinaetsyavsubbotu,translatedasMondayBeginsonSaturdaybyLeonidRenen(NewYork:DAW,1977); translated asMonday Starts on Saturday by Andrew Bromfield (London: Seagull Publishing,2005).

8Groups of intellectuals were gathered together to be shouted at: see Taubman,Khrushchev, pp.306–10, 383–7, 589–96, 599–602; and Fedor Burlatsky, Khrushchev and the First Russian Spring,translatedbyDaphneSkillen(London:Weidenfeld&Nicolson,1991),pp.140–3.

9‘Ican’tdeny,NikitaSergeyevich,thatIdidfindsomeerrors’:seeGraham,ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot.

10 Seen in absolute terms , more Jews than ever before: for the breakdown of employment in thesciences in the USSR by ‘nationality’, from which these figures come, see Churchward, The Soviet

Intelligentsia.11 Khrushchev’s red-faced rage over the Academy rejecting one of Lysenko’s stooges: in an

extremelyrareexampleofout-and-outelectoralrebellioninaSovietinstitution,theAcademiciansusedtheirsecretballotin1964todisbarLysenko’scandidate.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.617.

Theseoldmenwerenotordinarypeople;theyweretheFreezer,theGlutton,andtheMagician.TheMagiciandrewapictureofaboatonthesand,andsaid:‘Brothers,doyouseethisboat?’‘Weseeit.’‘Sitinit.’Allofthemsatintheboat.TheMagiciansaid:‘Now,littlelightboat,servemeasyouhaveservedmebefore.’Suddenlytheboatroseintheair…

MidsummerNight,1962Ithadalltakenlongerthanitneededto,ofcourse.Thesuperattheblockinwhichtheinstitutethoughtithadbookedheranapartmenthadnorecordofher,andwhenshe followed the trail back to the central office for the allocationofhousing, itturned out that there had been, a fewmonths back, a dust-up between institutesoverrightsinthenextblockstobecompleted–andpoorCytologyandGeneticshadlostout,unofficially,tothephysicists.Herpromisedflathaddisappearedintoa file. Instead of simply collecting the keys, she had had to get the Director’ssecretarytocallthehousingoffice,andtoask,asaspecialgestureofgoodwill,foranapartmenttobereleased.Butitwasdone.Thestairwellinthenewbuildingmightbefinishedtoroughlythelookandstandardofacoalcellar,butitled,upfourflights, toafrontdoorshecouldcallherown;with,beyondit,quietroomsfilledonlybylate-afternoonsunlightandtheshadowsofleaves.Dizzy with change she walked through her domain. Here would be her bed.

Through hereMaxwould sleep, with the door open a chink so he’d know hismamawasstillwithinreach,eventhoughtheywerenolongersharingthefold-upcouchundertheoilpainting.Aroomofhisown:shecouldpaintthealphabetonthewall,somecheerfulanimalsmaybe.Herethey’dlive,withthebooksliningthewalloppositethewindow,andaworktablelikeso,inthegoodlight,whichcouldbe cleared formealtimes. In thekitchen, predictably, only the cold tapworked.Butyoucouldmanageperfectlywellwithoutpipedhotwaterinsummer;plentyoftimetogetthingsfixedupbeforeSiberiabegantoshowalessfriendlyface.Shesatonthenewlinoleumof thekitchenflooranddrewupkneestoherchin.Toolate today to start hustling for furniture, or to spyout thekindergarten situation;nothing she could be doing at the institute, till they issued her with a passtomorrow.Max and hermotherwere still almost twodays away, chugging eastsafe aboard the train she’d put them on in Leningrad, before making her owndisbelievingway to the airport to present the institute’s extravagant ticket. Shehoped the other people in the compartment were making nice. A four-year-oldwithahabitofquestionswasnot theeasiest companion for a long journey.Butthere was nothing she could do about it if they weren’t. She’d deal with theaftermath of the experience, whatever it had been like, when they arrived, andMax came out grubby and upset, or grubby and smiling, onto the platform inNovosibirsk; till then, they were out of reach, in a capsule that could not beopenedforanothertwodays.Theywereinsuspension,andsotillthenmustbethe

wholehyperactivepartofherthatschemedandfendedandsmoothedMax’spaththrough the world, and explained (a big item recently) the different colours ofsunlight and moonlight. Suspended; unneeded. It was the strangest feeling. Shecouldn’trememberatimesinceMaxhadbeenborn–certainlysincehisfatherhadskedaddled – when nothing was expected of her. But now the impetus of thejourneyhadrunout,anddepositedher,withnothingsheoughttobeattendingto,intheseemptyrooms.Theleafshadowstossedslowlyonthewallbehindher.Thereseemed no particular reason why she should not go on sitting under them invegetativesilenceuntilnightfellandeasedthedapplingintothegeneraldark.Butshesupposedshehadbettergetupanddosomethingaboutfindingherselfsupper.In her bedroom-to-be, she openedher case andhesitated.Well, itwas summer.Shepickedoutthearmlessgreendress;brushedherhair;wentout.Notknowingquitewhereshewasgoing,shestrolled.Menwithbriefcases,and

a fewwomen,were threading theirwayhomeward around the brick-stacks andduckboardsofalandscapethatwasstillmainlyaconstructionsite.Theconcretecliff-faceofherblockstood,withitstrees,onagentleslopegrubbedfullofholesforfoundationsnotyetlaid.Mostofthelabourershadalreadyknockedofffortheday;thelastoneswereclosingdownthedrillsandsteam-shovels,andsettingoffdownhill, smoking and talking. Probably, she thought, there was a modelsomewhereshowinghowtheAcademy’scityofsciencewasgoingtolookwhenitwasfinished,allterriblycleanandmodern,thebuildingsimmaculatewhitesolids–butmidwaythroughtheprocess,entropywasdefinitelydefeatinggeometry.Mudwaswinningsofar.LivinginLeningrad,unfortunately,madeavisualsnobofyou.Ifyouwereusedtothecasualbeautyoftheoldcapital,therewasnotmuchtogetexcitedaboutinwhatshe’dseentoday.Theflatswereflats,nodifferentfromtheblocks going up on muddy fields everywhere, and the institutes were standardlumps of public architecture, nondescript and undecorated. From close up, thewidegreyfrontageofGeology,whereCytologyandGeneticshadsquatters’rightstillabuildingofitsownshouldappear,resolvedintowaveringcoursesofmud-greyblocks,alternatingwithmud-greytiles,asifaclaymoundintheapproximateshapeofascientificinstitutehadbeenrearedupfromtheearthbytermites.Theclumsycorridorsinsideignoredthescaleofthehumanbody.Theyweresizedfortheconvenienceofgiants.Thedoorsoflabsandofficescamelessthanhalfwayupthe slab walls. No, not much to please the eye in Akademgorodok. Not muchbeautyinAcademyville.But then thepathshewas following turned inamongadensergroupof trees,

anddeliveredher,onlyahundredmetreson, intoforesthush.Suddenly thepathbeneath her feet was carpeted with dry pine needles; suddenly the world wasroofed with a speckled canopy of leaf and sky through which the sinking sun

filteredonlyasafocusofgreaterbrightness.Soundswerefilteredtoo.Nowandagain she could still hear the grinding of construction machinery, but it hadbecome as tiny and unimportant as the buzz of the occasional bees that cruisedbetweenthetreetrunks.Thewoodwasamixofpineandsilverbirch.Thepinesrosestraightandslenderasship’smasts,whilethebirchesalltiltedafewdegreesawayfromthevertical,indifferentdirections,likeavastgameofspillikins.Thepines’barkwasacreasedruddybrown.Thebircheswerepaperwhite,markedwithendlesslyvaryingsquiggledlesionsofblack:cuneiform,togowiththemud-brick monuments of the town, or magnified chromosomes, the chromosomeswhoseexistencetheLysenkoistsdenied.Theairsmelledcleanlyofresin.Knee-high, the undergrowth of bracken glowedwith chlorophyll in the evening light,eachfrondacomplexgreen lamp.Oh,nowthiswassomething.Thiswasreallysomething, this tall place of birdcage delicacy on the doorstep of the termitemound.Shewouldneedtoadjustherideaofthetown,ifthiswasheretorefreshthe spirit on the way to every day in the lab, on the way back from everyworkplace tussle in the grey corridors. She tilted her head back and let thespeckledsieveaboveshakephotonsgentlydownonherface.‘Excuseme,’saidavoicebehindher,male,elderly,patient,amused.Shewas

blockingthepath.‘Sorry,’shesaid,movingtooneside.Hesteppedcourteouslyby,athin-necked

sageholdingacardboardmaptube,thenpaused;twoyoungmenbackedupbehindhimpausedinturn.Itreallywasacommuterroute,thispath.‘Justarrived?’‘Yes.’‘Wellthen,welcome,’hesaid,withabestowingnod.‘Welcometotheisland’–andmovedon.Asthelittlecolumnofthreerounded

thenextcornerof thepath,oneof theyoungmenlookedbackoverhisshoulderand gave her an assessing stare.Hewas saying something to his friend as theywentoutofsight.‘Island?’shethought.Beyond thewood, it turnedout, lay the streetwith the town’s services on it.

Hotel, post office,movie theatre, central stores offeringMILK andMEAT andVEGETABLES on their shopfronts, all more or less finished. Little buses anddeliveryvanscameandwent;theoccasionalcar.Andoverhere,bysomeminorbutdefiniteadjustmentinthefallofthelight,someinvisiblelinetickedpastontheclockface of the day, it was evening. The homeward stream of walkingintellectualshadbeenjoinedbyacontraflowoftheintelligentsiacomingbackoutagain,combedandwashedandinafreshshirt,totaketheair.Progulka,goingforawander:howevermuchthegovernmenttriedtofilluppeople’sleisuretimewithbicycleracesandextensionclassesandboxingclubs,youcouldn’tstopRussians

heading out of doors in summer for a chat and a drink. Scientists were nodifferent.Clustersofpeoplehadgatheredaroundthenoticeboardsofthecinema,lookingattheblack-and-whitestillsfromforthcomingattractions,andsettlingintothe comfortable to-and-fro of colleagues off duty. She joined them. Somewherearoundheretherewouldbeacafeteria,thetrickbeingtotalkherwayinwithouttheinstitutepass.‘What is that supposed to be?’ a man to her left was saying, pointing at a

tacked-upglossy.‘Awoman,youape.Dear,dear,hasitbeenthatlong?’saidhisfriend.‘No, idiot, themachinebehindher.The thing they’re supposed tobeworking

withinthis,quote,“portrayalofthelivesandheartsofouryoungscientists”.’Thegrouppeered.‘Partofanelectricitysub-station?’‘Anautomatedmilksteriliser?’‘Theillegitimateoffspringofacementmixerandyourcyclotron.’‘For shame! Our cyclotron is a good girl, and would never consort with a

ruffianlikethat.’‘Andhasshepresentedyouwiththeplasmaofyourdreamsyet?’‘Well,no.’‘Ah,yousee,that’sbecauseshe’ssneakingoutofthelabatnightandhavingit

awaywithagriculturalequipment.Shemaysayshecaresforyouandyourtediousparticles, but when it really comes down to it, she can’t resist the masculinedribbleofconcretefromhisenormousbucket.’‘You’reasick,sickman,Pavel.’‘Thankyou.’‘They’llnevermakeamovieaboutyou.’‘Iknow.’‘Toodisgusting.’‘Quite.’‘Actually,wedidgetsomeinterestingresultstoday.Budkerthinkshemayhave

foundawayaroundthepowerfluctuations…’‘Hello, beautiful.’ She assumed for a moment that this must be more of the

physicistsflirtingwiththeirexperimentalapparatus,but thenafinger tappedherpolitelyon the shoulder.She turned round. Itwas the twoboys from thewood,sprucedupslightly:oneblondandbouffant, thespeaker,andonedark,withhisfringelyingonhisforehead.‘Yes?’shesaidwarily.‘What?’‘Nooffence,’hesaid. ‘Nooffence,noproblem,nodifficultyatall–’all this

saidasfastasheifwereperformingatonguetwister,withaconsciouslycharming

smilepullingupthecornersofthelipshewasmovingprestissimo–‘don’twanttobotheryou, particularly if for some reasonyou’renot at easewithyourowngood looks’ –momentary pause, eyeswidewith comical sympathy – ‘althoughyoushouldknowthatwecanhelpyouwiththat–’‘What?’‘Nothing.Nothingatall.Justthatmeandmyfriend,weoverheardbackthere,

andwethought,ohdear,newtotown,doesn’tknowanybodyyet,wereallyoughttoshowyouaround.Maybeyou’dliketocometoaparty?’‘Valentin,’ said the dark one, warningly. Not being the one responsible for

dischargingthisflood-tideofblether,hehadbeenlookingather,andhadstartedtosmile;not,shegottheimpression,atherexpense,butathisfriend’s.‘It’s a service’, went on Valentin regardless, ‘that we like to offer to new

students; especially the pretty ones, Imust confess, but there is, youknow, realaltruisminittoo–’‘New students?’ she said, beginning to laugh. ‘How old do you think I am,

exactly?’‘Er–’‘Triedtotellyou,’putinthefriend,helpfully.‘I’m sure thisworks brilliantly on eighteen-year-olds,’ she said, ‘but I am in

fact a thirty-one-year-old.A thirty-one-year-old fruit-fly biologist, exhausted byplanetravelandbureaucrats.Gotanylinesthatworkononeofthose?’Touchingly,Valentinblushed:aproperpinksunriseinbothcheeks.‘Don’tmindus,’saidthefriend,puttinganarmroundValentin’sshouldersand

rotatinghimgently.‘We’lljustcreepaway,embarrassed.Welcome!’She lookedback at theglass boxof photographs. Itmade a dimmirror.That

refractedblurinthere,withthedarkbobandthebarearms,thatwasher,anditwas, she realised, all that theboyshad seen, a face andabodyunconnected toanythingelse.Thefinechain-linksofhercommitmentswerequiteinvisible.Theyhad not perceived her in relation toMax, or to her chosen position of elusivescorn in the politics of biology. They had had nothing to go on but this. Shefrowned; thewomanintheglass, thegirl in theglass,frownedback.No, itwasimpossibletotakeherforeighteen,ifyouwerepayingattentionatall.Butwhatelsemightyouguessaboutthisfaceifyoucouldonlyguess?Nothingitsaidaboutherwaspositivelyuntrue,ofcourse,butitonlytoldpartialtruths,andshewasoutofpracticeatdealingwithapproachesthatcameunconditionedbyknowledgeoftherestofher.Acoupleofstreetlampshadcomeonbehindthemirror-woman’shead,twoblobsofblue-whitethatinstantlyorganisedthefadinglightintopropertwilight,andtheleavesaroundthemintopiercedballsofgreen.Theyloomedatthe reflection’s shoulders likewill o’ thewisps, night spirits come to orbit the

blackhair,theblackeyes,thegreendress.She’dbeknownheretoo,soonenough.Thiswasonlyaninterlude,andnotimetomakeafoolofoneself.Buttheeveningairwasnice,coolerthanthestaleheatofthesummertimecity,andshewasalso,shediscovered,suddenlyveryhungry.Theboyshadnotgotveryfarupthesidewalk.Valentin’shumiliateddroopwas

alreadystraighteningout:shesuspectedthatitneverlastedverylong.‘Wait!’shecalled.‘Thispartyofyours–anyfoodatit?’‘Should be,’ said the friend. ‘It’s an official candidate-degree bash. Booze,

dancing,banquet,theworks.I’mKostya,bytheway.’‘Zoya.’Theyexchangedacomradelyhandshake.‘AndValentin,you’vemet.’‘Madame,’saidValentin,withasketchofabow.‘Hey,I’mnotthatold,’shesaid.

*

Theywereeconomists,orgraduatestudents ineconomics tobeprecise, twenty-threeandtwenty-four,oneintheeconomicslabattheInstituteofMathematics,oneinthemathematicalresearchlabattheInstituteofEconomics,bothmembersofaseminar intended to train up the economic and the mathematical alike intocyberneticians.OnthissubjectifonnootherValentin,shewasinterestedtosee,becamegravelyenthusiastic;Kostyaseemedtobequietandironiconallsubjects.When they weren’t working, they hung out in their dorm rooms at the StateUniversity a little further alongunder the trees, playing records, listening to thejazzprogrammesonRadioIran,andtryingtoimpressyounggirls.‘Andwhatisyourfield?’askedValentinpolitely.‘Mutagenesis,’shesaid.Itwasoneofherrulesthatshewouldalwaysnameher

researchhonestly,whenaskedaboutit.Butitwasuptothehearerwhattheywereabletomakeofit.Shesawnoobligationtomakelifeeasyfortheworld’slegionoffools.‘Meaning…change?Changein–?’‘Intheunitsofhereditaryinformation.’Valentinsmiled.‘Aroundhere,youknow,youcanjustsay“genes”andnoone

willfaintwithshock.’‘Hardlyanyone,’correctedKostya.‘All right. Hardly anyone. But you’re mostly among friends. So, go on,’ he

prompted,‘changeinthegenes.Whatsortofchange?’Both of them were looking at her with an expression of sympathy she had

sometimesencounteredonthefacesofseniorphysicists.Itmeant,dearcolleague,

your subject is afflicted by the plague, and I pity you. But was she reallysupposedtospillhergutstotwocompletestrangers?‘Get used to it,’ said Kostya. ‘This town chatters, and it expects chatter in

return.’‘Idonotchatter,’saidValentinindignantly.‘Iconverse.Iprobe,Ienquire;on

occasion,Iquery–’‘Allright,allright,’shesaid.‘Iworkonthegenesthatdeterminethemutation

ratewhenanorganismisunderenvironmentalpressure.Happynow?’‘IthoughtitwasLysenko’smobwhoclaimthatenvironmentaffectsheredity?’‘They do. They say environmental influences rewrite the germline, which is

rubbish.Changesalwaysgofromthegenestothebody,nottheotherwayaround.But whether the body survives decides whether the genes survive, so theenvironmentultimatelyselectsthegenes,anditturnsoutthatonethingastressfulenvironmentselectsforisasetofgeneswhichencouragemutation.’‘There,’saidKostya.‘Wasthatsobad?’‘Idon’tknow,’shesaid.‘Let’swaitandseewhathappensbecauseIsaidit.’‘It’safeedbackloop,then?’saidValentin.‘Ifyoulike.’‘Andtherearegenesthat,what,tellothergeneswhattodo?Akindofhigher-

levelcontrolsystem?’‘Yes.Themutatorgenesseemtoturnmutationinothergenesonandoff.’‘Doyourealisethat’sbinary?Thisisgreat!Youshouldcomeandtellusabout

it properly, the seminar Imean; give us some biological cybernetics to get ourteeth into. I love the way this happens! Cybernetics as the universal language,translatingbetweenthesciences!’‘Isheserious?’sheasked,glancingatKostya.‘Ohyes.’‘Well,getmeaninvitation,andI’llgiveyouapaper.’‘Done,’saidValentin.‘We’llgetyouinvitedbeforetheevening’sout.’‘Andwhatdoyouworkon,then?’shesaidtoKostya.‘Oh, you know,’ he said, ‘saving the world. Bringing about the golden age.

Building thematerial-technical basis of full communism. The usual things.Andhereweare.’Theparty,itseemed,wasbeingheldintherestaurantofthehotel.Sheexpected

thatherdeficitinIDwouldbecomeaproblematthedoor,andrequiresomefasttalking,butnooneaskedforpasses.‘Onthewhole,peopledon’t,’saidKostya.‘It’sfairlyfreeandeasy.Eveninthe

institutes, if your face looks familiar you can come and go prettymuch as youplease.’

Thetableshadbeenpushedbackagainstthewallstocreateadancefloor.Therewasacrowdaroundthebuffet,andanotheroneinfrontofthegleamingbattalionofbottlesandglasses.Here,shesaw,gettingonforhalfthecompanywerefemale,butifherexperienceofscientificlifebackinthecitywasanythingtogoby,thewomenwould almost all fall into the species-categorieswife orgirlfriend, notcolleague.Iftheyworkedintheinstitutes,itwouldbeassecretariesorjuniorlabstaff; otherwise, they’d be low-status riffraff like primary-school teachers ormedicaldoctors.Thegreendress,shewasgladtoconfirmfromarapideye-gulpat the room,more than held up in comparison to the rose-print outfits favouredhere by the middle-aged, and the predictable plumage of youth, innocence andavailability adopted by the rest; as well it should, considering its painstakingrelationship toacopyof ItalianVoguewhichhad floatedoutofMoscow in thewakeofthePartyCongresslastautumnandbeencapturedbyhercircleoffriends.Notthatshehadhadmanyoccasionstillnowtowearit;not that thiswasn’t thefirst evening in four years that she had spent out of reach of the sound ofMaxbreathing; but a little sneer can be a comfort on the threshold of a roomful ofstrangers, in a strange town far from home.A blue roof of smokewas alreadythickeningoverhead, fed by the separate spires ofmany cigarettes.A jazz bandwastuningupinthecorner.Probablynotprofessionals,honkingandparpingandtwangingoverthere.TheywerethesameageasValentinandKostya,andhadthesamelookofseriousnessatplay.‘Why don’t you grab yourself a plateful before the good stuff goes?’ said

Kostya.‘We’llgetthedrinks.’Slicedbeef,pickles,blackbread,ahardboiledegg,apyramidalsaladoftinned

peas and diced apple held togetherwithmayonnaise.Manoeuvring clear of thequeue she stuck amixed forkful intohermouth, andwas startledbyher body’sgratitude.The boyswere still over by the bottles, arguing. She could guess theproblem. If she had been one of the impressionable students theywere used tomoving inon, theprotocol for theeveningwouldhavebeen to stick toher likeglue,while steadily getting her drunk.But now theywere in unknown territory.Shouldtheyreleaseherintothecompanyofotherelderlypeople,shouldtheydothewholeDr-X-meet-Dr-Ything,orwastherestillafaintpossibilityofPlanAleftintheair?Theywerecomingback.Kostyahadthreeglassesprecariouslyheldinfrontofhim.‘We weren’t sure what you wanted,’ said Valentin, ‘so we got you some of

everything.’Everythingwasashotglassofvodka,awineglassofsomethingredandatumblercontainingasoftdrinkofasinisteryellow.‘That’saquestioninliquidform,ifeverIsawone,’shesaid.‘Ouch!’saidValentin.

‘Come on, now,’ saidKostya. ‘We don’t know you.Really, that’s all.We’retryingtobegoodguyshere.’‘I’msorry,I’msorry,’shesaid,rubbingherface.‘I’malittlerustyatthis.Look,

Iwillsayyespleasetothevodka,asachaserforthepickles–’‘– and not in any sense as an indicator of floozy-hood –’ put in Valentin

helpfully.‘–andalsoyespleasetothewine,because,asamatteroffact, thatiswhatI

like.Thankyou.’‘Thinknothingofit.’Shedrankoffthevodka,anditlititslittlesuninherbelly.Thejazzbandblew

abrassychordforattentionandlaunchedintoatunethatevenshe,musicalknow-nothing that shewas,could tellwasold-sounding:oneof thekindof things thatyouusedtogetontheradioduringthewar,whenEddieRosner’sbigbandwasserenadingtheRedArmy,nowlovinglypolishedandrecreated.Thecrowdsorteditself intodancersandnon-dancers.Shemovedoffwiththeboystoasectionoftabletopwhereshecouldbalancetheplateandthewineglassandtheycouldfitfoodoftheirown.‘So,’ she said, pitching her voice to pierce the swoony wa-wa of muted

trumpets, ‘so – who are all these people? And what do you really work on,specifically?’‘Hmm,’saidKostya.‘Here’sthething.Wereallydoworkonsavingtheworld.’‘Really,truly,specifically,’saidValentin.‘IthinkIcouldprobablyhandleafewmorespecificsthanthat,’shesaid.‘We’reworkingonwaystoimprovetheeconomicmechanism?’‘Withyousofar.’‘We’rebuildingadynamicsystemofplanningalgorithms,usingthetechniques

of linearprogramming in the lightof the theorem that theequilibriumpoint inamany-personnon-coalitiongamemustbeanoptimum.’‘Ah–toomuch.’‘Theladyhaspassedfromastateofinsufficientbafflementtooneofexcessive

bafflement,without stopping at the point of optimal bafflement in between. ForGod’ssake,Kostya–helpher,helpher.’Valentinbitintoasliceofsausageandbeamed.‘All right, all right. Letme think. Let’s agree’, saidKostya slowly, ‘that the

worldisfinite.Whatevertheysayaboutlimitlessnatureindialecticalmaterialismclasses, theamountof something thatyoucanactually layyourhandson,atanyonemoment,isalwayslimited,yes?Organismshavealimitedfoodsupply,minescontain a limited amount of iron ore, factories have a limited supply of rawmaterialstoworkwith.Thefundamentaleconomicsituationisoneofscarcity.’

‘Yes.’‘Yetwemeantogetfromscarcitytoplenty.Sotheeconomictaskistoallocate

our limited resources in themost efficientwaypossible.The socialist economytries todothatbypushingfactories todomoreeveryyear.Buthere’s thecatch.We don’twant them to domore.We reallywant them to do the least they canpossiblydothatwillstillfulfiltheplan.Yetthetargetsthey’regivendon’tmakethatpossible.The target fora transportenterprise, forexample, isgiven in ton-kilometres. They’re supposed to move the greatest weight they can over thegreatestdistancetheycan–whichishopeless,itshouldbeexactlytheotherwayaround, so long as everyone who needs stuff moved is happy. We need newtargets. And luckily, thanks to Valentin’s boss, Professor Kantorovich, who isstandingjustoverthere,themathematicalmeansexisttocreatethem.’‘Notton-kilometres.’‘No;andnotkilowatt-hoursofelectricityeither,orlitresofrefinedgasoline,or

squaremetres of spunnylon.Did youknow that last yearmore than half of thehosierydeliveredtoshopswassub-standard?’‘Let’s say that I had an anecdotal appreciationof that fact, from trying toput

someofiton.’‘Kostyareallyknowshowtotalktogirls,don’tyouthink?’saidValentin.‘No,

no,goon:leagueafterleagueofmalformedstockings…’‘Thepointbeingthatitwasincrediblyhardforthestorestosendthebadstuff

backtotheknittingmills,becauseitallcountedtowardstheiroutputtargets.Whatwe need is a planning system that counts the value of production rather thequantity. But that, in turn, requires prices which express the value of what’sproduced.’‘Thevaluetowhom?’‘Goodquestion,’saidValentin.‘Notjustthevaluetotheproducer,oreventotheconsumer,becausethatonly

givesyoucapitalismagain,surgingtoandfro,doingeverythingbytrialanderror.It’s got to be the value to thewhole system; the amount it helpswithwhat thewholeeconomyistryingtodointhepresentplanperiod.Anditturnsoutthatasetofpricesexistwhichwilldothat.But–’‘But,’agreedValentin.‘But – in order towork, they have to be active.Theyhave to keep changing

alongwith the changing possibilities of the economy; they can’t be fixed by anadministratorinanofficesomewhere.So,inordertogetthem–’‘– you have to automate the management of the economy,’ said Valentin,

forgetting to be frivolous. ‘You have to take away the discretion of thebureaucrats,andtreattheeconomyas–’

‘Ta-dah!’saidKostya.‘–onebigconnectedcyberneticsystem.Withsoftware–’‘Ta-dah!’‘–writtenbyus.’‘Or at any rate, written by great minds whom we are, from time to time,

honouredtobeabletohelpout.’‘Inourobscureandmenialway.’‘Hangon,’shesaid.‘Doesn’tthatmeanthattheeconomyhastobecompletely

centralised?Imean,perfectlycentralised?’‘Ah,’saidValentin,‘no.Itcouldmeanthat;andinfactAcademicianGlushkov

of theUkrainianAcademy has proposed a rival system inwhich the computersreallydotrackeverysinglenutandboltthatcomeofftheproductionline,andtakeeverysingledecision.But–’‘–but–’saidKostya,smiling.‘– this iswhere the game theory comes in. That stuff about themany-person

non-coalitiongame?Itturnsoutthatthemathematicsisindifferenttowhethertheoptimal level of production is organised hierarchically or happens in manydistributed, autonomousunits.So longas thepricesgeneratedby thealgorithmsare correct, all of the decisions can be made locally. There’s no loss ofefficiency.’‘Andthisisgoodbecause…?’‘Because it means you can have a society dedicated to maximising the total

social benefits of production, without everyone having to obey orders all thetime.’‘Doyoulikeobeyingorders?’saidKostya.‘No.’‘Wellthen.’Theywerejokingabout;butstill, injoke,theyweretalkingasiftheheaviest,

mostinevitablepartsoftheorderofthingshadsuddenlylosttheawfulmassthatstrainedtheearthbeneaththem,andrisenuptobeplayedwith,soap-bubble-easy.Itwasasifgravityhadfailed.Theyweretalkingasifhavingtherightideastoleawaytheweightofrefineriesandtextileworks,departmentstoresandministries,technologies and social systems, and set them floating where they stood, to beswitched and swivelled about at the touch of a hand, to be tried out atwill inexperimentalconfigurations,nowlikethis,nowlikethat.Usuallyshewouldhavescoffed.Notovertly,ofcourse:byaskingthemhowthegreatworkwasgoing,andleading them with gentle malignity to the point where they had to confesscomplications,frustrations,disappointment.Shedidnotquitethinkofherselfasabitch, but the last fewyears hadnot been fun, and shehaddeveloped a certain

sourpleasure ineasingawkward facts intoview.But theboysweregrinningather,most charmingly, and it occured to her that they reallymight not, yet, havebeendisappointed.Andshewasfinding,too,thatgravitydidnotseemtohaveitswhole grip on her. Tonight, without Max nearby, and her attention constantlyextendedintotheentirezonearoundherwhereheorbited,thereseemedtobelessofherthanshewasusedto,andwhatwasleftwas,exactly,lighter.Lighter,lessresponsible,morepronetobobandshiftifthebreathofcircumstanceblewonher.Shegrinnedback.‘Sowhichonesareyourgreatminds,again?’sheasked.‘All right,’ said Kostya. ‘Just there by the buffet is our Leonid Vitalevich.

Residentgenius.’‘Candidatememberof theAcademy.Kingofmathematicaleconomics.Prince

of cybernetics. Rabbi of functional analysis. Master of algorithms. The WhiteCrowhimself,’saidValentin.Thegeniuswasashortman,becomingtubby,withanosethatdidn’tseemlarge

enoughtoexplainthenickname,thoughshecouldseethatitwasprobablygrowingbeakierineffectastherestofhisheadgotmoreconvex.‘And the person he’s talking to’ – slight, ascetic, horn-rimmed glasses – ‘is

ProfessorErshovofthecomputercentre.’‘Whosays–’‘Whofamouslysays–’‘“Aprogrammer”’, they chorused together, ‘“must combine the accuracy of a

bankclerkwiththeacumenofanIndiantracker,andaddintheimaginationofacrimewriterandthepracticalityofabusinessman.”’‘And then,’Kostyawenton, ‘if you look right a littlebit, that’smyboss, the

otherchairoftheseminar,DrShaidullin.Ah,he’scomingover.’Yes, hewas: slight but sleek, full of the assumption of power,with delicate

featuresandalongnarrowskulldownwhosesidesthecurlyhairwasretreating.Whatever elsewas different inAkademgorodok, thiswas not. Strangers get theonce-over fromsomeone inauthority. Itwasa lawof life, analmostbiologicallaw, for it was how institutions protected themselves, how they operated animmunesystem.Whenaninterloperappeared,somustthehumanequivalentofawhite blood cell, to see if what had arrived in the social bloodstream was apathogen.Watch,children,shethought,ifyoudon’tknowhowthisisdone.You’llbedoingityourselvesbeforeverylong.‘A face Idon’tknow,’Shaidullin remarked,givingher a look thatmixedone

partofcarnalconsiderationwithmanypartsofsuspicion.Heheldouthishand,andsheshookit,butastheopeningformalityofanexamination.Shetoldhimhername,heaskedherwhereshewouldbeworkinginAkademgorodok.Shetoldhim

that, he asked her where she had come from. She told them that, and told himwhereshehadbeenbefore,andwhohadtaughther,andwhohadtaughtthem,untilin a few minutes he had an academic lineage for her. The mood perceptiblyrelaxedasitbecameclearthatshecamefromtheuntaintedpartofthebiologicalfamily tree, and became almost cordial when she mentioned the name ofNemchinov, her supervisor’s supervisor – who had, come to think of it, leftgeneticstogooffanddosomethingtodowitheconomics.Shaidullin,ofcourse,wantedamilder,lessurgentversionoftheassurancethat

the Director of her institute had been after, when she went through a similarinterrogationwithhimearlierintheday.‘Andwillyoubeagoodcomrade?’theDirectorhadended.Meaning,wewantedyoubecauseyouwerearealgeneticist,butwillyoubetactfulaboutit?Willyouliewhenlyingisnecessary,willyoubesilent when silence is necessary, will you obfuscate when obfuscation isnecessary?Willyoubackusupwhenwedothesethings?Meaning,aboveall:areyougoing tobe trouble? It seemed toher that itwould take anunlikelykindofhonestytogiveanythingbuttheanswerthequestionaskedfor,butperhapsthearthere, theartofvigilance, layinjudginghowpeoplegavetheinevitableanswer,obligingly or otherwise, convincingly or otherwise. She couldn’t tell howconvincingshehadbeen,herself,for thetruthfulreplywouldhavebeenthatshedidn’tknow;thatshewasnotsure,anymore,howgoodacomradeshehaditinhertobe.AtlastShaidullinsmiled–aprovisionalsmile.Shewasin,orinenoughforthe

purposes of the evening. Valentin and Kostya had said nothing, because therewould have been no point in offering any endorsement of her till she had beenjudgedworthendorsing.Now,withthesignalgiven,theybroughtuptheseminar,and to her surprise Shaidullin took the suggestion that she be booked to speakentirely seriously.Theywere talking about datesbefore sheknew it. Shaidullinexhibitedaneasy,impressive,tactfulfamiliaritywiththecurrentanguishesofhersubject,asifitwereonlynormalforaneducatedpersontoknowasmatteringofeveryscience;andaneasyfamiliarity,too,withitsbignames,asifthatwerehisnatural company and (he flatteringly implied) hers as well. He raised hiseyebrows at her enquiringly, as Valentin launched into another breathless riff.Whatareyoudoingwiththeselittleboys?Shegavehimtheeyebrowliftback,wide-eyedanduninformative.Mindyourownbusiness,sir.Playing,shethought.I’mplaying.It’sasummernightandI’mplaying.Shaidullinputon,foronesplitcomicalsecond,alongfacethatmusthavecomefromsomeancestralstore:itwasa commercial expression, a bazaar merchant’s good-humoured dumbshow ofdisappointment,tobedeployedwhenyouturneddownhisveryreasonableoffer.She smiledathimproperly, and turned to eggValentinonasheclimbeduphis

newmoundofrhetoric.And the invisible fissurewhich had separated her from the rest of the party

closed.Thecrowdthickenedaroundher.Moredrinksappeared.Shaidullin,ashemoved smoothly away, snagged a passing physicist with a mossy, nineteenth-centurybeardandsenthimbacktomakeconversationwithheraboutthetheoryofautomata.ItturnedoutthathehadattendedoneofTimofeev-Ressovsky’sfamousgeneticssummerschoolsintheUrals:itwas,hesaid,quitetruethattheaudiencewasencouragedtositinthelakeintheirswimsuits,whilethelecturerscribbledatablackboardsetupontheshore.ValentinandKostyawerejoinedbyagaggleoftheirfriends,including,shewasamusedtosee,agirlinahairbandwholaughedenthusiasticallyateverythingValentinsaid,andshotpoisonousglancesinherowndirection.‘“Tahiti”,’ announced the boy leading the band, and Hairband Girl swiftly

grabbedValentinandpulledhimontothedancefloor.Kostyamadeaface.‘You’renotdancing?’shesaid.‘Allthisoldstuffgivesmetheshits,’hesaid.‘Idon’tseethepoint.’ShewonderedwhetherHistorical Beardmight be in themood to dance, but

before she could find out, another voice said, ‘Excuseme.May I?’ It was thegenius.TheMasterofAlgorithmsonlycameuptoherchin,butwhenthefoxtrotstarted

heclaspedherfirmlyroundtheshoulderswithonepudgyarm,shottheotheronestraight outwithhis hand roundhers andwasoffwithpace and attack, leaningbackslightlysoshecouldseealittlemoreofhimthanjustthebaldcrownofhishead.Ba-ba-ba,BA,ba,wenttheband.Oh,hehadmasteredthealgorithmforthis,all right; theywhirled, the roomwhirled, and he put her through the turnswithpreciseglee.Asthefacesoftheonlookersandtheotherdancerswentby,shesawthe same lookdirected at thepair of themover andover: a sort of affectionatesatisfaction.Itwas,shesaw,partofthegenius’slegendthatheshoulddothis,thatheshouldliketodothis.Shewondered,foramoment,whatshehadletherselfinfor,butthetouchofhishandswasentirelycorrect,intheold-fashionedsense,andhis expressionwasnothingbut friendly.Shehad the impression, too, that if shehad surrendered to her pressing urge to giggle, it would not have mattered toLeonidVitalevichverymuch;perhapshewasnotsofarfromgigglinghimself.‘Thankyou,’hesaidafterwards.‘Ienjoyedthatverymuch.’‘SodidI,’shesaid,truthfully.‘Emil tellsmeyou’ll be coming to talk to us?Good. I findmyselfmore and

moreinterestedbytherobusthomeostasisofbiologicalsystems.’They talkedfora littlewhileaboutcellularself-regulation,and thenhewent.

He had his eye, she could see, on another tall woman on the other side of the

room.‘Comrades, ladies and gentlemen, theWhite Crow!’ cried Valentin, crowing

himself.‘Helikestodance,doesn’the.’‘Helovestodance.Andalwayswithgood-lookingwomen.Butthere’samoral

here, you know. I’ve seen old photographs of him, and he was good-lookinghimself,nottoolongago.Anice,brown-eyedboy.’‘What’syourmoral?’‘Simple.Brown-eyedboysdon’tlastverylong.That’swhyyouhavetopluck

uswhilewe’reripe.Duringourbriefflowering.’‘Yeah,yeah,’saidKostya.‘“Blue Horizon”,’ declared the band leader. A clarinet began to hoist the

sorrowsoftheworldskyward,bypatientstages.‘Doesthissuityouanybetter?’sheaskedKostya.‘Notreally.Idon’tlikeDixielandanymorethanIlikeswing.’‘Kostya’sabebopman,’saidValentin.‘He’sstrictinhisloyalties.’‘If you want to hear good jazz round here,’ Kostya said, ‘the only place is

UndertheIntegral.Eventheseguysexperimentabit,there.It’saclub,’headded,seeingherlookingblank.‘Youknow,likeAelitainMoscow.’‘I’mafraidIdon’tknowmuchaboutmusic.’Orcaremuch,shepolitelydidn’t

say.Shecouldneverholdpatternsofsoundinhermemoryforverylong.Probablysomespecialisedproteinwasmissing.‘Youprobablydon’twanttodancetothis,then?’‘Kostya doesn’t, on the whole,’ said Valentin. ‘Generally he prefers to just

standaround,inhalingthevapoursofthecool.’ShelookedatKostya.‘Thankyoubutno,’hesaid.‘I, on the other hand, am verymuch available,’ saidValentin.HairbandGirl

vibratedwithindignationathisshoulder.

*

ShediddancewithValentin,butnotforaslownumber.Shealsodancedwiththebashful,newly-anointedCandidateofSciencewhosepartyitwas;andthenagainfor a second time with Leonid Vitalevich, once a sufficiently venerable andsufficientlyrule-defineddancestepcameup.ShechattedwithKostya’seconomistcolleagues andValentin’smathematical ones, wandering away from the pair ofthemonlongloopingarcs,butalwaysinterceptingthemagain;orperhapsalwaysbeinginterceptedagain.SheevenmadeanefforttotalktoHairbandGirl,butgotbackonlyhostilemonosyllablesanda faceof rabbitlikedefiance.The food ran

outbutthedrinkdidnot.‘Abunchofusaregoingon,’ saidValentin, as thepartywoundup. ‘Areyou

coming?LeonidVitalevichisholdingopenhouse,andhesaidtoinviteyou.’Betternot, she thought. ‘All right,’ shesaid.Thegroupofyoungpeopleburst

out of the hotel in the genius’s wake. The warm air dried her damp forehead.Cricketschirredinthedarkbeyondthestreetlamps.‘Whichwaywedowalk?’sheasked.‘Walk?Pfah!’saidValentin.‘OurWhiteCrowisfamousforlotsofthings;and

onethemisforjusthowmuchhelikesthecartheygavehim.’LeonidVitalevichhadsteppedtothekerbandraisedhishandwithaconjurer’s

solemnity:alonggreenVolgaslidobedientlyoutoftheshadows.Heopenedthepassenger-sidedoorandsatdownnexttothedriver.‘Now we fit the rest of us into the back,’ Valentin said. ‘It’s a topological

exercise,trickybutnotimpossible.Ifyoujustsitonmyknee–’‘Idon’tthinkso,’shesaid.‘Perhapsyoushouldsitonmine–’Buttheothersignoredbothof themandcrowdedstraight in,carryinghertoa

position topologically quite separate from Valentin’s, halfway down a tangledwedgeofarmsand legs in the farcornerof thebigbackseat.So farasanyonewasonherknee,HairbandGirlwas,angrilyshiftingabout,andintheendstickingherfeetoutoftheopenwindow.Theweightwasquitesomething.Butthereitwasagain,evenwithgravitydoingitsworst: that lightness, thatsenseofpressingonthe world with less than the whole of herself. Kostya looked in without envythroughtheotherwindow.‘Seeyouthere,’hesaid.‘I’mjustgoingtogoandgetsomething.’Thecarpulledaway,fulloflaughter.Someonetowardsthebottomoftheheap

startedtosing,andtherestjoinedinraggedly,withgruntsofdiscomfortasthecarjoltedontheunfinishedroadways.Theglowofthelightedpieceofstreetholdingthehotelandthecinemadwindledbehindthem,andtheyenteredablackzonewithnolampstandardsatall.Hereyesadjusted,andshebegantomakeoutthebulksofbuildingsgoingby,spikywithscaffolding,againstaskyabsurdlythickwithstars.‘Professor,’ she asked, ‘won’t your wifemind us all dropping on her in the

middleofthenight?’‘Oh,she isn’there,’saidLeonidVitalevich. ‘Shedoesn’tgetalongverywell

withSiberia,yousee.’Thecarroundedacorner,thenanothercorner.Treesblockedoutthestars.‘Not

farnow,’ said someoneat thebottomof theheap.Streetlamps returned, and thedriverpulledover.Theknotonthebackseatunknotteditself;shespilledoutwiththe rest into meadow-grass, feathery and thigh-high. It smelt of summer. Therewerefernsinit,andclover,andflowerswithdelicatelittlebells,ofwhatcolour

shecouldn’ttell,becauseinthisdimnesstheyshowedonlyasasilveryglimmer.Grasshoppers sang all around. The trees arched overhead, hanging down theirtressesofsmallleavesintothestreetlighting;andbeyondawhitewoodenfence,a rowof houses stood, bigger and solider than anydacha.Somehow theywerefamiliar though, and so was the layout of the wide, quiet road, with its twinsidewalkssetback in the longgrass.AsLeonidVitalevich led themthrough thegate in the fence, and up the garden path, she got it: familiarity resolved into amemory,notofanythingshehadeverseenherself,butofthatbrilliantlyinsidiousfilmshow at the exhibition in Sokoloniki Park, three years ago. This was whatAmerican suburbs looked like,more or less.Here, in themiddle of a Siberianwood, as a reward to its geniuses, the Academy of Sciences had apparentlyrecreatedapieceof thegood lifeasdefinedfar, faraway,on theworld’sothershore; recreated it, shecould seewhenshegot closer to thehouse, in the samestandard concrete panels as her apartment block, trimmed with wood. But thelocalmaterialsscarcelytookawayfromtheinspiringcomedyoftheidea.Lightandahubbubofvoicescamefromthescreendoorontheporch.Leonid

Vitalevich’sopenhousehad clearlybeen runningwithout him for several hoursalready;ineffect,aparallelparty,attendedbyanoldercontingentthatpreferredtalking todancing, and liked todo its drinking sittingdown.Little groupswerescatteredthroughthehouse.Shaidullinwasleaningonthemantelpiece,talkingtoacoupleofgrandees.Astheprofessorbustledtofindabottleandglassesforhisgaggleofnewcomers,shewalkedfromroomtoroom.Throughroom,afterroom,afterroom.Itwas thebiggestprivatedwellingshehadeverseen,easilyfiveorsixtimesthefloorareaofhernewflat.Andhelivedherealone.Atthesametimeitwasalmostasemptyashernewflat,exceptforthebooks.Afewchairsinthekitchen, a brand-new dining table set, a desk. The walls were huge and bare.Manyof theconversationswere takingplaceat floor level, forwantof seating.LeonidVitalevichseemedtobecampingoutinhismansion.Hemustrollaroundinitsspaceslikeapeainanemptycoffeecan.Therewasaphilosophicalargumentgoingoninthekitchen,betweenamanin

his forties, leaning down low fromhis seatwith his elbows on his knees, longfingerspalpingthebackofhisneck,andafloor-dwellerofthesameageproppedagainst the white-tiled wall, his face gleeful. They were both glitter-eyed andslightly ruddy from the booze; still under control but definitely lit up, suffused.Probablyshelookedthesamewayherself.‘Look,I’mnotsayingyourplentyis impossible,’ jabbedthemanonthefloor.

‘Maybeitis,maybeitisn’t.HowwouldIknow.Puremaths,me,everytime.Noneofyourmurkycompromises.No,whatI’msayingisthatplentyisanintrinsicallyvulgar idea. It is, in itself, a stupid response tohumanneeds. “Oh look, there’s

someoneunhappy.Let’soverwhelmhim!”Realhumanneedsarealwaysspecific.No one ever feels a generic hunger or a generic loneliness, and no one everrequiresagenericsolutiontothosethings.YourplentyislikeabucketofplasterofParis youwant to pour over people’s heads. It’s awayof not payinghumanattentiontothem.’‘Bullshit,Mo,’said themanin thechair. ‘Bullshit,bullshit,bullshit.Plenty is

theconditionthatwillletusdistinguish,forthefirsttime,betweenavoidableandunavoidablesuffering.Wesolvetheavoidablestuff–whichseemsprettybloodygenerictome,giventhatabowlofsoupcureseverybody’shungerandapainkillercureseverybody’sheadache–andthenweknowthatwhat’sleft isreal tragedy,boo-hoo,writeaplayaboutit.Whothehelleversaidthatplentywassupposedtoabolish unhappiness? But what it will do is free our hands to concentrate onunhappiness.Ifwe’resominded.Ifwe’reasaspureasyou.AndIdon’tseehowthatcanbeanythingbutahumanegoal.Ahumanistgoal,ifyoulike.Plentywillletatrulyhumanlifebegin.’‘Oh,bullshityourself!“Lethuman lifebegin”?Whatd’you thinkwe’re living

now, forGod’s sake?’He cupped his hands around hismouth. ‘Hey, is there abiologistinthehouse?’Shecouldn’thelpherself, and raiseda finger silently,whereshestood in the

kitchendoorway.‘Excellent!’saidMo.‘Youknowaboutanimalbehaviour?’‘Notsomuch,’shesaid.‘I’mamicroscopebiologist.’‘Ahwell,pretendyoudo.DearoldSobchakherewillneverbeabletotellthe

difference.Right!Whatdoessquirrelbehaviourconsistof?’‘Oh, I dunno,’ she said. ‘Gathering nuts … scampering around in trees …

makingbabysquirrels…’‘Exactly,’saidMo.‘Andthishasbeenuniformlytrueofsquirrelsatall times

and on all continents, am I right? So, if somebody said to you – Sobchak, forexample–thatthetruebehaviourofsquirrelswastoridearoundonlittlebicycleswhilesingingselectionsfromVerdi,eventhoughnosquirreltodatehadever,everdonethosethings,thiswouldbe–?’‘Untrue.’‘Oh, worse than that. It would be rubbish, it would be nonsense; just like

Sobchak’sclaimthattruehumanbehaviourconsistsoflivinginawaythatnoonehasyetexperienced.’‘You could always try pouring your drink over his head,’ she suggested to

Sobchak.‘Don’tthinkI’mnottempted,’saidSobchak,mournfully.Shewentaway.

Leonid Vitalevich caught up with her to give her a glass just as Shaidullincaughtupwithhim.‘It’sgoingtohappen,’saidShaidullin.‘Thenewsjustcameinontheteletypes,

apparently: an announcement to be printed on the front page of every papertomorrowmorning.’‘Haveyougotacopy?’askedLeonidVitalevich.‘No.We’llhavetowaitfortheprintedversion.Buttheoutlineis–smallcuts

onrayonandsugar,25%riseonbutter,30%riseonmeat.’‘Andhowmuchoftheretailincreasegetspassedon?’‘10%forbutter,virtuallyallofitformeat.’Thetwoofthemsmiledateachother.‘I don’t understand,’ she said. Nor need you understand, said Shaidullin’s

expression.Butherhostwasobviouslythekindofmanwhorespondedbyreflextostatementsofignorance.‘Thepriceofmeatisgoingup,’hesaidkindly.‘And…you’repleasedbythis?Youwantpeopletopaymore?’‘Well,yes:inthiscase.’‘Thatseemsrathercallous.’ValentinhadappearedatShaidullin’selbow,asifsummonedoutoftheairby

theexchangeofsecretknowledge.‘I’lltellyouwhat,’saidShaidullinsharply.‘Whydon’twehaveValentinhere

explainittoyou?’Hewavedthemoffwithhiswell-keptfingers.Theboylookedirritated.Impressingherobviouslydroppedprecipitouslydown

hislistofpriorities,iftherewasachancetobeontheinsidetrackofsomethingimportant.Butheacceptedtheassignment,ofcourse.Heledherthroughthehouseto the porch steps,where someonewas strumming a guitar in the starlight. Shelookedbackastheywent:ShaidullinandKantorovichweretouchingtheirglassestogether,likemensolemnlysalutingasuccess.‘Where’sKostya?’shesaid.‘Idon’tknow.Ihaven’tseenhim.Don’tyouthink’,hesaidwhentheyhadsat

down,‘thatyouwereabitrudebackthere?Thosearepeoplewhosegoodopinionisvaluable.Youcan’tgo round just sayingwhatevercomes intoyourhead,youknow.’Sheopenedhermouthandshutitagain.‘Ijustdidn’tseewhattherewastobegladabout.’‘That’sbecauseyou’renotthinkingcybernetically.You’renotthinkinginterms

ofthewholesystem.’‘No, I’m thinking in terms of seventy million families who will wake up

tomorrowmorningandfindtheycan’taffordbeefanymore.’‘Yes,butitisn’tastraightlossofsomethingtheyreallypossessed,isit?How

many of those families do you thinkwere actually able to find any beef to buytoday, or in the lastweek, even, at theoldprice? It’s been in deficit for years,compared to thedemandfor it,and there’sa relationshipbetween thedegreeoftheshortageand the levelof theprice.Thenationaleconomyisoneof themostcomplexcyberneticsystemsevercreated,youknow,withanenormousvarietyofdifferentfeedbackmechanismsatworkinit,fromlow-levelautonomicloopsallthe way up through the planning system to the meta-mechanisms of politicaloversight.You’resmiling.’‘I’vejustnevercomeacrossaPartysecretarywho’dbegladtobedescribedas

ameta-mechanism.’‘Well,meetyourfirst.’‘What–you?’Oh,Valentin.‘On a very small scale. I’m second secretary of theKomsomol group in our

institute. It makes sense; we’re under the Academy so we’re exempt fromsupervisionbythecountycommittee,andthemoretheKomsomolandtheinstitutecommitteesarerunbyscientists,themore,ineffect,wesuperviseourselves.Verymeta-mechanical.Anyway,beef,ifyoustillwantmetotellyou?’‘Allright.’‘Well,’saidValentin,‘thethingisthat,tillnow,theprocurementpricethestate

paystocollectivefarmsformeathasn’tbeenenoughtocoverthefarms’costsforproducing it. They’ve been losing money with every cow. It costs eighty-eightroublestoproduceahundredkilosofusablemeat,andforthisthestatepaidthemR59.10.That’swhy the drive to increasemeat production hasn’t got anywhere.Thefarmsdidn’thaveanyincentivetogoalong.Butiftheretailpriceofbeefgoesup by 30%, and the slice taken out by meatpackers and wholesalers stays thesame,thenthestatecanpaythekolkhozniksninetyroublesforthehundredkilos.Andsuddenly,asoftomorrow,they’llbeinprofit,andtheirincomeswillgoup.Whichisgoodnews,becausefarmworkersarethepoorestpeopleintheSovietUnion.’‘Ye-es,butthenthegoodnewsforthemisbadnewsforeveryoneelse.’‘Well,therewillbesomebenefitfortheconsumer.There’llbemuchmorebeef

inshops.Iknow,Iknow,peoplewon’tbeabletoaffordit–butinaway,likeIwassaying,there’snorealnewbadnewsthere,isthere?Thereisn’tmuchlogicaldifferencebetweennot being able to find something you can afford, and beingabletofindsomethingyoucannotafford.Isthere?’Spokenlikesomebodywhodoesn’tdotheshopping,shethought.‘At least, this way, the production level for beef will be up, which is the

essentialfirststeptowardsgettingbeefthat’sbothcheapandavailable.Ifwehadoptimalpricing,thenoncethehigherlevelofmeatproductionwasestablished,the

unit cost would drop, and the selling price would go down again with it,automatically.’‘Butwedon’thaveoptimalpricing.’‘No.Thisisjustanotherold-styleadministrativechange.’‘So those two in there aren’t celebrating a victory for the stuff you toldme

about.’‘Actually, they sort of are. You see, if the idea is to get prices which can

function as useful signals in the economy, then this counts as a step in the rightdirection.What’smore’–heloweredhisvoiceimpressively–‘it’sasignthatwecanwinthepoliticalargumentforactivepricing.’‘Yourgeniusesintherewerepushingforthepriceincrease?’‘Economistsallover theSovietUnionadvised it,butwecertainlyaddedour

weighttotherecommendation.’Allofasuddenshecouldhearthemiddle-agedmanthatValentinwasgoingto

become, sooner than he imagined.A good teacher, but a slightly pompous one,inclinedtowraphimselfinborroweddignity.Oh,Valentin.‘Allright,’shesaid,andheldupthebrimmingshotofhoochLeonidVitalevich

hadgivenher.‘Tobrown-eyedboysandexpensivebeef.’Shedrankitdown.Valentinsmileduncertainly.‘You’relaughingatme,’hesaid.ButthenShaidullincalledhim,frominsidethe

house, and he jumped to his feet. ‘You do know’, he said, hovering, ‘that youwon’tbepayingthenewbeefprice?You’reontheAcademy’sspeciallist,now.Cheapmeat,cheapbutter,cheapeggs,andcansofsalmononpublicholidays.’Nooneelseon thestepsseemed inclined todrawher into theirconversation

when Valentin had gone. She laid her cheek against the cool wood of LeonidVitalevich’s porch, and gazed into the glimmering dark, and listened to thegrasshoppers. Perhaps, she thought, it followed from feeling all the gargantuanfurnishingsofthisworldlosetheirgripontheground,atleastinthought,andbobinplaceobedientassoapbubbles,thatyouwouldthentaketheemotionsofyourfellowcreaturesjustaslightly.Butwhowasshetotalk.Ifshewasimmunetothisparticular dream, it was through no particular virtue of hers. She had her ownprofessionalvisionwhichremovedher,insomeways,evenfurtherfromeverydayhumansympathies,whenshewaslookingthroughherscience’seyes.Shetoowasabelieverinaworldthatcouldbereduced,alongonedimensionofitsexistence,to information: only in her case, it was the information of the genes, not theinformationof thecomputingcircuit,whichstoodas thepatternofpatterns.Andonceyouhadseen it,onceyouhadparted thecurtainsof thevisibleworldandseen thathumanbeingswereonly temporaryexpressionsofancient information,dimly seen in tiny glimpses by the light of science’s deductive flashlight, but

glimpsed enough to tell that it was vast, and intricate, and slowly changing byindifferent rulesof itsownas itwenton itsway intoa far future– thenall thelawsandplansoftheself-importantpresentlookedlikemomentaryticsandjittersincomparison.Adarkmessage,postedfromthepasttothefuture;adarkarmada,floating through time.Darkmasses,moving in thedark.Darkwater.Darkoceanswell.‘Don’twakeherup,’saidHairbandGirl.‘Can’tyouseehowtiredsheis?’

*

Atrumpetblewinherear.‘Hello,’ saidKostya.He liftedwhorledmetal to hismouth and did it again.

‘I’msorryIwassolong.Ittookforevertofindsomeonewho’dlendmeit.’Anotherblast.Shelookedroundwildly.Embersofthepartywerestillalight,buttwoorthree

hours of the short summer night had passed. The moon was up, scorching themock-suburbwithexplicitsilver;hercheekwascorrugated.‘Ohnowreally,’saidLeonidVitalevich,arrivingontheporchflustered,more

likeahenthanacrow.‘Nowreally,Kostya.That’sjusttooloud.Takeitoutside.Takeitaway,takeitintotheforest.’‘Sorry, Professor,’ saidKostya, quite amicable. ‘Well,what do you say to a

littleconcertunderthetrees?’‘Excellentplan,youmadman,’saidValentin,comingtoseethecommotion.He

andHairbandGirlhad theirarmsroundeachother’swaists. ‘In fact,whydon’twecollecteverybodyup,listentoyoudoyourthing,andthengodowntotheseaforsun-up?’‘Thesea,’shesaidstupidly.Achildren’s-atlasoutlineofAsiadrewitselfinher

mind’seye,withtheirpresentpositionmarkedbyaflag,halfwayacrosstheblobandalmosthalfwaydown:aboutasfarfromanoceanshoreasitwaspossibleforahumanbeingtobe.‘You really haven’t had time to look round yet, have you?’ saidKostya.The

momentarylookofannoyanceonhisfacehadalreadydisappeared.‘Nobodysayanything,’Valentincommanded.‘Let’skeepitasasurprise.’Theguitarist,thegirlleaningonhisshoulder,sleepyleavetakersemergingfrom

the house: nine or ten people straggled up the sidewalk in the moonlight. ShewalkedwithKostya,yawning.Theycrossedawideavenuelinedwithunfinishedapartmenthouses, theglasslesswindowsblackgapsinsilver.Nothingmovedineitherdirectionasfarastheeyecouldsee,asifthebrightgazeofthemoonhadpinned the earth into stillness.Kostyawas humming something over to himself,

underhisbreath.Shewondered,irritably,howmuchsimulatedmusicappreciationwas going to be required of her to keep the male ego happy. Go home, sheinstructed her legs, but they kept on walking with the group through the silenttown,pasttheshops,pastthecinema,pastthehotel.Theweightlessfeelingwasgone.Shewasjusttired.Andshewasfindingthemoonlightcuriouslyoppressive.It shone hard enough to cast shadows, to throw a pale bleak certainty overfoolishness.Whyismoonlightdifferentfromsunlight,mama?Sometimesitisn’tdifferentenough.‘WhatamIdoinghere?’shethought.Butthentheysteppedbackunderthetrees,andthemoonrecededasthesunhad

done, into a faraway source only sifting speckles of light down into dimness.Underthepinesandthebirchesthenightturnedindefiniteagain.Blackshapesofthe walkers slipped between black masts, black birdcage spars. Somebodylaughed.Smallrustlespropagatedintheresinousair,originunknown,destinationunknown. Here and there a thinning in the canopy made a patch of dappledpalenessontheleafmouldfloorof theforest,andinoneof thesetheycametoahaltaroundKostya,whosetrumpet,whenheliftedit,becameanabstractknotofshineandshadow.‘Comrades,’croonedValentin,‘Igiveyou–’‘Shutup,’saidKostya,‘beforeIforgetwhatI’mtryingtodo.“BlueinGreen”,’

heannounced,‘byMrMilesDavis.’Henoddedtoher.‘ThisiswhatIlike.’Then he lifted the horn and began to blow high, exact phrases. There was

nothingtoanchorthemintotherestofasong,andyoucouldtell,anyway,thattheywerecarefully refusingexpectation,declining sweetly tocloseor to resolve, tofallinwiththehintsofstructuretheythemselveswereconstantlygiving.Yettheywere familiar all thewhile. Theywere still hoisting the sorrows of theworld,onlythesorrowshadbeenunpickedfromtheoldsensewovenofthemandletgotodartthoughthedarkinsinglethreads.Allthis,tohersurprise,sheheardinthethirtysecondsafterhestartedtoplay.Thefirstphraseslaidanelusivepattern,inpieces, in theair; thesecondsetof themcomplicated itbyaddinganother layerathwartoratanangletoit;andafterthat,itexceededherpowertokeeptrackofit.WhenKostyahadfinished,thecirclesurroundedhimwithwhoopsandmurmurs

ofpraise,thenquicklydriftedoffdownhillthroughthetreesinseparatethreesandtwos.OnlyValentinandhisreluctantpartnerlingered.‘Well?’saidKostya.Heseemedtobesmiling,butwhatifanythingheexpected

wasashardtosettleashissong.‘Doyousupposethiscouldbeamagicwood?’sheasked.‘Youknow,thestory

kind.’‘Couldbe,’saidKostya.

‘What kind ofmagic do you suppose it would do, awood round here?’ sheasked.‘Whatkinddoyouwant?’ saidValentin, too lateand too fast; for after all, it

wouldbeinthenatureofagenuinelyenchantedforestthatitwouldgiveyouwhatyoudidn’tknowyouwanted,ratherthangrantingdrearywishesasfamiliartoyouasthelackstheyweresupposedtofill.‘Youknow,Idon’tthinkIunderstandthisplaceatall,’shetoldKostya.Kostyalookedather.‘Whydon’tyougoonahead,’hesaidtoValentin.‘We’ll

catchyouup.’‘Yes,’shesaid,‘whydon’tyou?’Very briefly, annoyance and pure amazement chased each other across

Valentin’s expression, before amused goodhumour caught themboth andwipedthemaway.‘All right,’he said. ‘Seeyouon thebeach,’ andhewasgone,withHairband

Girlbesidehimexudingsudden,rabbitybenevolence.Alone,Kostyawasnomoreshybutnolessshyeither.Heunscrewedpartsof

thetrumpet,andputitawayinthebaghehadslungoverhisshoulder.‘Let’swalkdownafter them,butslowly,’hesaid, ‘andyoucan tellmewhat it isyoudon’tunderstand.’Theymovedoffthroughthetrees.‘Youalltalksomuch,’shesaid.‘Well:notyou,individually.Butcollectively!

Asifit’sgoingoutofstyle.I’veheardthingssaidtonightinpublicthatIthoughtwerestrictlywhispersforthekitchen.’‘It’s very simple,’ said Kostya. ‘This is a privileged place, and one of the

privilegesisspeakingfreely.Ormorefreely.Youlivehere,andyougetaflatanda fridge and food delivered to your door, all exactly in accordance with yourseniority, and you also get to talk. I’m not sure they knowwhywe like it, thepowers that be.They just knowwedo like it, and theywant to keepus happy,within reason. But within reason, you see. There are limits. You mustn’t everquestionthefundamentals.It’slikethepathsinthewood:wanderaboutonthemasmuchasyoulike,butdon’tstepoffthem.’‘Don’tstepoffthepaths?’‘Nobody’s told you? There’s a nasty little Siberian tick that lives in the

undergrowth.’‘Oh,marvellous.Can’ttheyspray,orsomething?’‘They did, two years ago. Dusted off the whole area with DDT, using a jet

engineforafan.Butapparentlythelittlefuckersareback.You’restillpuzzled,’heobserved.‘It’s not just the talking,’ she said. ‘It’swhat you say.You all sound like – I

don’tknow.Icouldn’tworkout,backthere,whetherIwaslisteningtobohemiansdisguisedasgoodboys,orgoodboysdisguisedasbohemians.Youbabble likedreamers,andthenitturnsoutyou’redreamingoftheFive-YearPlan.Youseemtobesayingwhateverthehellyoulike,but…Maybeyou’vealreadyansweredme.Maybeit’sjust…keepingtothepaths?’‘Ihopenot,’saidKostyacarefully.‘Notthewayyoumean,anyway.Ithinkit’s

somethingabouteconomists,probably.We’reusedtoreasoningasifwehadourhandsontheleversofpower–changethis,changethat,seehowitlooksthenewway.Butthat’snotnecessarilymegalomania.Theideastrulyarepowerful.Oncethey’reput inpractice, there’llbenostoppingthem,they’llbehavingeffectsnoonecantakebackagain.Laughifyoulike.’‘I’mnotevensmiling.’‘Somepeoplehere’,heoffered,‘callthisplace“theisland”.Youknow,nota

realisland,aconceptualone;asifwewerelivingjustoffshoreofwhatis,alittlewayoutonthewatertowardswhatmightbe.’‘Like themanlastnight.WhenI firstbumpedintoyou?Hesaid“Welcometo

the island”, and Ididn’tknowwhathewas talkingabout, so far away from theocean.’‘Oh, but we have ocean. A toy ocean, all our own. Fivemoreminutes, and

you’llsee.’‘Yes,MrMystery.’‘I’mfarlessmysteriousthanyou.’Theyemergedsuddenlyfromthetreesintoopenspace.Itwasahighway,silent

inbothdirections.Themoonlightwasgivingwaytotheveryfirst,faintgreytingeofdawn.On theother side, the trees resumed, and sodid thepath, steeper andmoreceremonious,withelectriclampstandardsglowingattheturns,andmakingtheblacknessbetweenblackeroncemore.Sheshivered,andyawned.‘CanIaskyousomething,then?’saidKostya.‘Allright.’‘Youhavefamily,don’tyou?’‘Yes.’‘Ahusband?’‘No.’Then,whenKostyaonlypaddedalongagainincomfortablesilencebesideher,

shesaid,‘That’sit?Youdon’twanttoknowanythingelse?’‘Notjustnow,’hesaid.Thepathcrossedarailroadtrackonafootbridge,andbecamestairs,splitting

and recombining at a descending series of concrete platforms like an outdoorsketch of the grand staircase into a ballroom. At the bottom, she stepped,

disbelieving,ontosand.Itwas,indeed,abeach,dimandpale,underanabruptlywidesky justbeginning toblushwithcolour.Darkheadlandsranout to leftandright. And from ahead came the quiet glock and splosh of waves, and voicescalling.‘It’sareservoir?’shesaid.‘It’s the Ob Sea, thank you verymuch,’ said Kostya. ‘Sixty kilometres long,

twentykilometreswide,tenmetresdeep.Naturemetamorphosed.Naturemouldedlikeputtybythebuildersofsocialism.Bestseenfromthisspot,manufacturedforthe pleasure of the intelligentsia. Yachting, water-skiing. Swimming. Will youcome?’Theyrantothewater’sedgeandundressedhastilyamongtheotherlittlepiles

of clothes, not looking at each other. Glassy little breakers rolled in, and shelaunchedherselfthroughthedarkfaceofone,expectingashockofcoldtobreakinonherdazeandherincipientheadache;butitwasonlycool,underthesurface,and saltless like the riverwater it was, with an unclassifiable other taste to itwhich,forthefirsttimeinthewholedayandnightthatshehadbeenhere,reallypersuadedherthatshehadarrivedfar,farawayfromhome,instrangeAsia.Thiscoolenvelopeofliquid,strokingherlikeamultitudeofhands,hadtrickleddownfrommountainswhereyak-herdsfollowedthebellsoftheirflocks;andhereshewasinit,bobbingabout,aheadamongtheotherheadsbreakingthesmoothsteel-colouredsurface.Sheturnedontoherback,andlookingpasthernipplesandhertoes at the horizon of the toy ocean, she laughed out loud with pure childishpleasure. Real life would resume, Max’s train was already descending thefoothillsof theUrals,soondaybreakwould turn thewater transparent:but therewerelittleislandsouttherecomingintoviewwiththedawn,apuffoftreesonasandbankandnomore,absurdlylikethedesertislesofpicturebooks.‘Whatnow?’calledValentin,acrossthewater.‘Well–’shesaid.

Notes–III.1MidsummerNight,1962

1Adust-upbetweeninstitutesoverrightsinthenextblockstobecompleted:thisparticulardisputeisinvented,butthefirstfewyearsoftheAcademy’snewsciencetownoutsideNovosibirsk,foundedin1958,were indeedmarkedby fierce, sometimesunrulyargumentsbetween thedisciplinesoverwhogotwhichnew buildings. Cytology and Genetics itself obtained its premises by seizing, one weekend, a facilitypromisedtotheComputerCentre,andtheComputerCentrenearlylostitsnextearmarkedsiteaswell,toanopportunisticgrabbyagroupresearchingtransplantsurgery.ForthehistoryofAkademgorodok,IhavedependedheavilythroughoutthischapteronJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited;and for the lookand theatmosphere of the place also on my own visit in 2006, corrected for anachronisms (I hope) by thephotographs in themuseum of the Siberian Branch of the RussianAcademy of Sciences. But see alsoJessicaSmith,‘SiberianScienceCity’,NewWorldReview,thirdquarter1969,pp.86–101,andthesectiononAkademgorodokinManuelCastellsandPeterHall,TechnopolesoftheWorld:TheMakingof 21st

CenturyIndustrialComplexes(London:Routledge,1994).Thepicturesin‘StarCity’,Colors45,August–September 2001, offer an evocative parallel portrait of the Soviet science town devoted to spacetechnology.ColinThubron’sInSiberia (London:ChattoandWindus,1999),pp.63–78,drawsadesolate,superstition-ridden portrait of Akademgorodok’s post-Soviet condition, but my sense was that theambivalent,half-deliveredpromiseoftheplacestilllingered.AssomeoneIspoketojoked,‘Therewasalotoffreedomhere.Oh,I’msorry,ImadeamistakeinmyEnglish.Imeant,therewasabitoffreedomhere.’

2Inthekitchen,predictably,onlythecoldtapworked:otherdefectscomplainedofbytheAcademytothetown’sbuilders,Sibakademstroi,includedpoorlyfittedconcretepanels,andhallwayssodamptheygrewmore than thirty varieties of mushroom. But Zoya’s apartment is nevertheless luxurious by all ordinarySoviet standards. It comes about halfway down a ladder of accommodation exactly matched to thehierarchyofacademicstatus.Asaseniorresearcherandlabhead,shegetsalivingspacesmallerthanthehousesandhalf-housesreservedforAcademiciansandCorrespondingMembersoftheAcademy,andtheverybest flats,whicharereservedforholdersof theCandidateofSciencedegree,butbiggerandbetterthan the sequentially dwindling flats for ordinary researchers and technical staff and the dormitories forgrad students. Envy of the town’s material privileges was a factor in the unhelpfulness of the citygovernment of Novosibirk over such issues as the water supply. At one point, the city stole an entiretrainloadofsuppliesearmarkedforAkademgorodok,andAcademicianLavrentiev,thedefactomayor,hadtoringKhrushchevpersonallytogetitback.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

3Progulka,goingforawander:seethechapteronrecreationsandleisureinThompsonandSheldon,eds,SovietSocietyandCulture.

4Bothmembers of a seminar intended to train up the economic and themathematical alike intocyberneticians: while Kostya and Valentin are both fictional, the seminar wasn’t. Kantorovich andAganbegyan,who ran it in the non-fairytaleUSSR,were deliberately creating a pool of expertisewhichcrosseddisciplinaryboundaries.See‘TheSiberianAlgorithm’inJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

5Listening to the jazz programmes on Radio Iran: at this point, sixteen years before the revolutionagainsttheShah,apotentsourceofcurrentwesternmusicforSovietjazzfiends,andwellwithinbroadcastrangeofwesternSiberia,too.SeeStarr,RedandHot.

6‘Mutagenesis,’ she said: ZoyaVaynshteyn, fictional from head to toe in her green dress out of ItalianVogue,issharinghereintherealresearchofthegeneticistRaissaBerg(1913–2006),whoreallyarrivedinAkademgorodokataboutthisdate,andreallydepartedfromitunderverysimilarcircumstances(seepartVI,chapter2),butwhowasnotthirty-oneanddidnothaveachildoffour.Seeherautobiography:RaissaL.Berg,Acquired Traits:Memoirs of aGeneticist from the SovietUnion, trans.David Lowe (NewYork:VikingPenguin,1988),andthebiographicalarticleaboutherbyElenaAronovaintheonlineJewishWomen’sArchive:http://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/berg-raissa-lvovna.

7Theparty,itseemed,wasbeingheldintherestaurantofthehotel:aneight-storeybuildingwhichhadoriginallybeenscheduledtohavetwelvestoreys.Khrushchev,takingapersonalinterestinthenewtownhehadbacked,foundtheheightextravagant.‘That’swhatIthinkofyourskyscraper,’hesaid,makingsnippingmovementswithtwofingers.SeeJosephson,NewAtlanticRevisited.

8Thegreendress,shewasgladtoconfirmfromarapideye-gulpattheroom,morethanheldup:the Soviet Union produced a small amount of little-worn ‘high fashion’, and weirdly enough a vestigialtraditionofcouturesurvivedinthesatellitecountrieswhichpartywivesofsufficientstatuscouldpatronise.See Bartlett, ‘The Authentic Soviet Glamour of Stalinist High Fashion’. But for all practical purposes,anyonewhowantedtowearanythingdifferentfromtheunsurprisingstockinthedepartmentstoreswouldneed to rely, likeZoya and her friends here, on their own skillwith a needle, and the luck of access topictures that could serve as patterns. For an English-language review of a special issue of the RussianjournalFashionTheorydevotedtoSovietdress,seeAnnaMalpas,‘StyleforSocialists’,MoscowTimes,27April2007.

9When Eddie Rosner’s big band was serenading the Red Army: in 1939 the jazz musician EddieRosner,findinghimselfstuckinWarsawduringtheGermaninvasion,presentedhimselftotheGestapoanddemandedassistanceasaGermancitizen,omittingtomentionthathewasaJewishGermancitizen.Theylent him a car, and he had himself driven straight to the Soviet forceswho had seized the other half ofPolandunderthetermsoftheNazi–Sovietpact.Hecrossedover,andnextturnedupinMinsk,wherehe

puttogetherabandunderthepatronageofaByelorussianPartybigwig;then,withhisreputationtravellingaheadofhim,hemovedon toMoscow,wherehewashoused in thegrandestofhotelsuitesoverlookingRed Square. Throughout the war, and up until the Zhdanov-led repression of everything that had beenallowedtolooseninSovietcultureduringthewaryears,herodehigh,immenselypopularwiththepublic.Yourmentalpictureof theRedArmy’sadvance intoNazi-occupiedEurope isnotcomplete if itdoesnotinclude,alongsidethemassrapesandthedromedariespullingbaggagewagons,thesightofEddieRosnerandhisbandplaying‘TheChattanoogaChoo-Choo’amongtheruinsofcities.SeeStarr,RedandHot.Allthesongsthescratchcomboofscientists in theAkademgorodokhotelplayat thepartyarerealnumbersfromdifferenterasofSovietjazz.

10InfactAcademicianGlushkov…hasproposedarivalsystem:seeGerovitch,FromNewspeak toCyberspeak ,pp.271–4.

11 It turns out that the mathematics is indifferent to whether the optimal level of production isorganisedhierarchically: I’mbeingalittleanachronistichere.InapaperpublishedinAmericain1961,George Danzig (the mathematician who had independently rediscovered Kantorovich’s Plywood Trustbreakthrough while working for the USAF during the war) showed with P. Wolfe that some linearprogrammescouldbesplit intoalmost independentsub-programmes;in1963,anotherAmericanpaper,byC.Almon,showedthat thiscouldbeinterpretedascentralplanningwithoutcompleteinformation.FormalSovietresponsetotheideadidn’tarriveuntilapaperof1969byKatsenelinboigen,OvsienkoandFaerman,butitmusthavebeenaninfluencemuchsooner.SeeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

12 ‘A programmer…must combine the accuracy of a bank clerk with the acumen of an Indiantracker’:seeA.P.Ershov,The British Lectures (Heyden: TheBritishComputer Society, 1980). Ershov(1931–88) was a heroic figure in the thwarted attempt to get computers out of the exclusive grip ofacademia,industryandthemilitary,andintothehandsofSovietcitizens.

13One of Timofeev-Ressovsky’s famous genetics summer schools: true, including the lake. SeeGerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak ,andBerg,AcquiredTraits.

14Smallcutsonrayonandsugar,25%riseonbutter,30%riseonmeat:thepricerisewentintoeffecton1June1962.Forthepolitickingleadinguptoit,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.518–19.Forthegeneraleconomiccontext,seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

15 It costs eighty-eight roubles to produce a hundred kilos of usablemeat: figures taken from A.Komin, ‘EconomicSubstantiationofPurchasePricesofAgriculturalProducts’,Problems of Economics(translateddigestofarticlesfromSovieteconomicjournals,InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.9,January1963,pp.29–36,originallyinPlanovoeKhosyaistvono.7,1962;andS.StoliarovandZ.Smirnova, ‘Analysis ofPriceStructure’,ProblemsofEconomics vol. 6 no. 9, January 1964, pp. 11–21,originallyinVestnikStatistikino.1,1963.

16 Cheap meat, cheap butter, cheap eggs, and cans of salmon on public holidays: perks alsodetermined strictly by seniority. See Berg, Acquired Traits, pp. 346–50; Josephson, New AtlantisRevisited.

17‘“BlueinGreen”,’heannounced,‘byMrMilesDavis’:ofcourse,fromKindofBlue,1959.BebophaditsSovietfollowers,butitwasattheavant-garde,ideologicallyriskyedgeofjazzinthisrelativelyjazz-friendlyperiod.SeeStarr,RedandHot.KostyawillpresumablyhavebeengettinghisMilesDavis fromRadioIran.

18I’veheard things said tonight inpublic that I thoughtwere strictlywhispers for thekitchen: Ihaveexaggeratedthetown’sfreedomofspeechtomakeitaudible,andtheexcitementaboutit thereforecomprehensible,forWesternreaders.Imagineadegreeofordinaryconstraintthatcorrespondstonothinginyour(our)experience,andthenimaginethatconstraintloosenedintoastatethatwewouldstillfindstiffand cautious and calculating, but which struck those experiencing it as (relatively speaking) a jubilantholidayfromcaution.

19DustedoffthewholeareawithDDT,usingajetengineasafan:aninsecticidalassaultcarriedoutinthespringof1959.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

20 ‘It’s theOb Sea, thank you verymuch,’ saidKostya: all quite true. TheOb Sea can be found onGoogleMaps,justsouth-south-westofNovosibirsk.Fortheideologicalbackgroundtomouldingnaturelikeputty,seeKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,onEngels’sDialecticsofNature,pp.308–26,andon

the‘Prometheanmotif’inthethoughtofMarx,pp.337–9.TheObSeaitselfdatesfromthemid-1950s,thebeachfromtheaftermathofacycloneinOctober1959,whenitwasdecidedtostabilisetheshorelinewiththreemilesofsand.

ThePriceofMeat,1962Volodyastoodbytheparapetattheedgeoftheflatroofofthecityprocuracy,andfoughtagainsttheurgetocrouch.Hehadbeenfrightenedsinceyesterdaymorning,andnowhewas terrified.ThecrowdwascomingintoviewaroundthebendofMoscowStreet.Theyshouldhavebeenstoppedbythelineoftanksonthebridgeat the edge of town, but somehow they had not been; they should have beenstopped by the fire engines posted in the side streets along Herzen Hill, butsomehow they had not been; and now the front rank of the strikerswas almosthere,redflagsflying,portraitsofLeninheldhigh,lookingextraordinarilylikethevirtuousmobineveryfilmabouttheRevolution,exceptthatamongthestoresfortheMayDayParadethey’draided,theywerewavinghomemadeplacardsoftheirown, as indecorous as farts in church, which saidMEAT, BUTTER&A PAYRISEor,worstofall,CUTKHRUSHCHEVUPFORSAUSAGES.Andas theynearedthesquare,thenoisegrew,aninsistentbuzzofangerVolodyahadneverinhislifeheardbefore.Itwasgood-humouredanger,sofar,akindofcarnivalfury,becauseitwasthesoundofpeoplewhothoughttheytheywerewinning.Allalongthe street the shops were still open, windows glinting and flashing in the sun,unbroken, even thewindows of the empty-shelved food shops, and theworkershad brought their families, dressed up in holiday clothes. Students from thePolytechnicalInstitutewerealongtoo,seizingthechancetoprotest thegreypeasoup and gristle served in their canteen. Excited childrenwere running up anddownonthesidewalks.Itlookedlikeaparadetothem,Volodyasupposed,andtheweather was right for a parade, only the dust and the haze clouding the hardsouthern blue of the sky. The tarpaper roof of the procuracy exuded a sluggishsummer perfume. But no one was in charge, down there. Ten thousand voicesweretalkingatonce, tenthousandvoicesmergingintohumanstatic,fromwhichyoucouldpickoutonly theanger theywerevoicing incommon.And theywereall,ineffect,angrywithhim.‘Sillysods,’said thewhite-hairedmanVolodyahad justunlocked therooftop

doorfor,alongwithfiveorsixsoldiers.‘Wheredo theythinktheyare.’Almostaffectionate.Thesoldiersdidwhathetoldthemto,buthewasacivilian,dressedinaflatworkman’scap,awaistcoatandwatch-chain.Hehadamonk’sface,redandjovialandsad-eyed.‘Allright,son,’hesaidtoVolodya.‘That’sussettled.Offyougo.Chop-chop.’Volodyatookthestairsinthrees,gulpinghisbreaths,gladtobeoutofsightof

thecrowdbutstillhearingitswrathfulmutterthroughthestairwellwalls.Outofthebackdoor,acrossthecourtyard,overthecross-streetbehindthepolicecordon,totherearofthegorkom–onlytoseethevisitorsfromMoscowpouringoutofthebuildingthemselves,trottinginhastyretreattothelineofblackcarsparkedthereinthedust.Basov,theregionalfirstsecretary,spottedhimandjerkedhisheadatthelastcar.Volodyapiledinandfoundhimselfsqueezedamongthesilentseniormembersof theregionalapparat;menwho, tillyesterday,he’dhaveschemedtobenoticedby,butwhonowgazedhungrilyathim,toojuniortohavecaughttheircontagion,andthereforestillable,ifheplayedhiscardsright,tocomeoutofthiswithacareerintact.Theywereunshavenandsweat-stainedaftertheirnightheldcaptiveattheplant.Thespecialforcessquadhadrescuedthematdawn,buttheyhad not been allowed to go home and freshen up; Basov and his cronieswererequiredtotagalongbehindtheMuscovites,humiliatedandsilent,asanobject-lessoninblame.Volodya,ontheotherhand,wasallowedtorunerrands.Basovhad a sick look of disaster in his eye, and the others looked just as defeated,except perhaps Kurochkin the plant manager, who Volodya believed was quitepossiblytoostupidtotakeinthescaleofthereversethathadjusthithislife.Basovclearedhisthroat.‘Itrust’,hesaid,‘thatyou’reofferingeveryassistancetoourfriends.’‘EveryassistanceIcan,ComradeBasov.’‘Ifthere’sanylocalknowledgetheyrequire,anyresourcetheywishtodrawon

–well, I’msureyouwon’thangback.Inacertainsense,younowrepresent theParty’sauthority,locally.Ihopeyouunderstandthat.’Meaning,thoughtVolodya,thatIhavearesponsibilitytothrowyouanylifeline

Icanthinkof.Thanksfornothing.Inanycase,alltheyrequireofmeisrunningupanddownflightsofstairs.Buthenoddedgravely.‘Do you know,’ said Kurochkin, too eagerly, ‘can you tell us, whether the

comradeshavegiven,uh,anyindicationyetoftheirthinking?’‘Oh,leaveitalone,can’tyou,’snappedoneoftheothers,andwretchedsilence

fell in the car. The convoy barrelled through traffic signals as if they wereinvisible.Volodyaturnedhisfaceawayfromtheplaguevictimsandstaredoutofthewindow,stillbreathingfast,tryingtoshakeoffthetouchofnightmarehe’dfeltontheroof.Thisshittytown.Heshouldn’tevenbehere.Hedidn’treallyunderstandwhyhe

was. They had been sitting pretty two years ago for a life inMoscow, he andGalina; contactsmade,duespaid, friendships linedup to let himstart hisPartycareerwithametropolitanbounce,andthemtheirmarriage.Hestillmissedher.She had seemed so matter-of-fact. But suddenly she had grown reticent,embarrassed,evasive,andallaboutwhat,shewouldn’tsay.Shewouldn’tsayand

hecouldn’ttell.Somethinghadhappened,though;something,itbecameclear,badenoughtocastashadowoverherreliability,andbyextensionoverhisjudgementfor pairing upwith her.Nothing to do then but to break things off.And still, itturnedout,thedoorshehadsopainstakinglyopenedremainedshut.Ifhewantedto be a Party full-timer, there was no question now of easy acceleration up aministry,orevenofputtinginhisfootsoldier-timeatsomeconvenientraikomorgorkom in theMoscow region. Itwasbackout to theprovinces again, for him;backdowntothebloodySouth,‘becauseyou’llknowtheterritory’,onlyacoupleof hundred kilometres fromwhere he’d started,with all the ground tomake upagainthathadsomysteriouslybeenlost.Downsouthtodustytrees,andaboarding-houselifeconductedfromasuitcase

underthebed,andperpetualmildhunger.EvenwithhisspetsforthePartystore,alotofthetimehewassubsistingoncansofanonymousfish,spoonedupstonecoldafterwork.Hewasdoinguphisbelttwoholestighterthanhehadlastautumn.Hedidn’tknowwhetherthetownreallydidrunparticularlybadly.Itfeltasifitdid.The supply system had it moronically misclassified, on the basis of thePolytechnicalInstitute,asacollegetown,inneedofthecalorificintakerequiredtoliftpencilsandwipeblackboards;buttherewerefortythousandpeoplelivingandworkingintheindustrialzoneoutbythetracksnow,andbetweenthestudentsand the locoworkers, a locust would have been hard put to it to find a sparecrumb.Whitebreadwasadistantmemory,milkwasdispensedonlyattheheadofenormous queues. Sausages were as rare as comets. Pea soup and porridgepowered the place, usually served on half-washed plates.He’d spent his days,thislastyear,tryingtogetpeoplemotivatedforthecost-cuttingcompetitionwithRostselmashinRostov.Theproductivitychartsinhisbriefcasewerewaxyalongthe crease-lines from folding and unfolding. But you never saw one spark ofenthusiasmfromtheworkersforthepledgesthelabourunionandthemanagementandtheKomsomolbrancheshadsignedthemupto;justcoarsefaceslookingback,lumpywith impulses not voiced. Other activists could at least kindle a guffawwiththerightjoke,buthedidn’thavethetouch.Hedidn’tseehowitwasdone,nomatterhowoftenhewatchedit,thatparticularsleight-of-hand,thatconjuringtrickwhichextorted liking fromacrowdevenwhileyouwerepicking theirpockets.Perhaps the secretwas just expecting to be liked, in your suit,with your chart,whentheforemancalledabreakandyouhoppedupontothechairorthebox.Itwasaworldofmanagershehadmeanttojoin:hehadnever,particularly,stoppedto think about his relationship to these others he was supposed to be able tocontrol, tocajole. In theory, theywere thebody,andhewassupposed tobe theagitating consciousness; but it didn’t feel like that. Most evenings, he walked.He’dstartthinkingaboutsomethinginthepark,burpingbackthetasteoffish,and

find his feet had carried him wishfully to the train station again. Hot slate-coloured sky; the caboose lights of departing trains wavering to nothing in thedistancelikepenniesfallingtoastream-bed.Abitofmusicwouldhavehelped.Butifanyoneplayedlivehere,itwasonlyeveroompah-oompah.The cars bounced hard on their springs as the convoy shot under the raised

barrierattheentrancetothebarracks.Securitymenspilledoutoftheleadvehicleandmadeadoublelineofprotectioninthecourtyard,upwhichtheybeckonedthetwograndeesinthenextlimo,followedbyscurryingaidesandofficersand,last,thecarloadofthedisgraced.Volodyamovedaheadofthemasquicklyashecouldduringtheracebackalongthecorridorstotheconferenceroomwherethedayhadbegun:hehadaplacetostand,now,overagainst thewallbehindtheendofthetablewiththetelephonesonit,andhewantedtobebackinit.ButKurochkin,tohishorror,hadfollowedhim,andnowlurchedpast,sweating

withdesperate amiability, tobother themen from thePresidium.Theyhadonlyjustsatdown,Mikoyanasdapperasever,Kozlovradiatingheatofhisownfromhispinkjowlsandhisbrilliantinedwaveofwhitehair.‘Comrades!’saidKurochkin,‘ifImightbepermittedtosuggest–’‘Who’sthis?’saidKozlov.‘Whichoneoftheidiotsisthis?’Anaidewhispered

in his ear. ‘Ah, the Director himself. The Marie fucking Antoinette ofNovocherkassk.You’reuglierthanyourpicture,Marie.’‘Idon’tunderstand,’saidKurochkin,stretchinghischeeksintoagrinpainfulto

see,asifajokemightbecomingthathe,too,couldlaughat.‘No?Aren’tyou theonewho told ’em toeatcake,yesterday?Aren’tyou the

onewhothinks,angrycrowd,howcanImakethingsworse,howcanIfuckupawell-fuckedsituationsoit’sevenmorefucked:oh,Iknow,whydon’tIaddinsulttoinjury.Whydon’tIsaysomefuckingstupidthingthatwillreallyrubinthesalt.That’syou,Marie,isn’tit?Isn’tthatyou?’Yes, thatwas him.Volodya still had trouble believingwhat had come out of

Kurochkin’smouthwhenherememberedit.Ithadbeenalittleaftereighto’clockyesterdaymorning,andacoupleofhundredworkers fromthe first shifthad leftthe steel foundry and gathered in the square in front of the admin building tocomplainabout theprice rises justannounced.Nobodycouldcall thisgood; thecrowdhadalready ignored twoorders togetback to the job,andworkersfromotherdivisionswerebeginningtostreamintothesquaretooaswordgotaround.But neither was it completely out of hand yet. Volodya and the trusties of theplant’s Party branch and theMilitia auxiliaries were already out in the crowdtrying to dampen things down one small knot of listeners at a time, trying tosmooth shouting back into discussion and thence into obedience again; and themoodwasonlyexcitedandaggrieved,notdrunkyetonthepleasuresofdefiance.

Maybeitwouldhavebeenenoughifthecrowdhadfeltithadbeenheard,thatithad been taken seriously.After all, by going to the admin building theworkershad, in a sense, been taking their complaint to authority.WhenKurochkin cameout,thecrowdtriedtohush,sothatheandtheycouldbeheard.Everyonetwitchedaround,Volodyaremembered,totryandfacethepilasteredfrontageoftheoffices,wherehewasstanding.TherewasnoPAsystem,sowhatwassaidwasamplifiedbybeingrelayedinshoutsbackoverpeople’sshoulders.Ittravelledoutwardsinring-shapedwaves, pickingup commentary as it travelled.And thenpickingupfury.Volodyawas close enough in to glimpseKurochkin’s nervousbulk, and tohearhisactualvoicebleatingaway.Accusationswererainingonhim,about thewages, and the norms, and the apartment shortage, and the broken stoves in thecanteens, and the missing safety equipment, and Kurochkin was denyingeverything:notmakingpromises,notexpressingsympathy,justflat-outrefusingtoproceed on the basis that anything, anywhere, was less than perfect. Then awoman worker in a headscarf, really upset, said, ‘How are we supposed tomanage,ifmeatcoststworoublesakilo?That’smorethanitcostsatthemarket.What arewe supposed togive thekids?’AndKurochkin replied, ‘Let themeatpirozhki,’ and laughed, and added something about liver still being nice andcheap.‘Hesaid,“Letthemeatpies”,’thebucket-chainofshoutsrepeated.‘Feedyour kids on pies.’ ‘Give them liver pies to eat.’ A tiny pause, for digestion.Someone roared: ‘The bastards are mocking us.’ Then the shouting wascontinuous. The shouting, the surging to and fro, the eruption out of the plantgrounds,theblockedrailroad,thedaylongcarnivalofforbiddenstatementsdownon the waste ground by the tracks, the sucking in of the students and thetownspeople,thewholeunrollingcatastrophe.‘So I’ll tell youwhatyou’repermitted todo,’ croonedKozlov, ‘since itwas

yourbigmouththatgotusintothis.You’repermitted,comrade,tositdownoverthere,andtoshutthefuckup.Isthatsimpleenoughforyou?Isthatsomethingyoucanunderstand,youdopeyfuck?’Kurochkinbackedaway,white;Kozlovsankintohischair,blowingoutairina

longdisgustedstream.Volodyaunderstoodthathewasfrightenedtoo,andneededto pass it on.Hewas notwhatVolodya had expected to find, at the top of theorganisational tree. He’d thought the caste of professionals he’d joined wouldgrow more and more subtle the further up you went. The brutishness was allsupposedtobedownbelow,asheunderstoodthings.MikoyanresembledhisideaofPartysenioritymuchbetter.Duringthetirade,he’dwincedbutmadenomovetointerrupt. Now he sat with his fist in front of his mouth, stroking his narrowmoustacheupanddownwithaknuckle.‘Istill thinkweshouldhave talked to them,’Mikoyansaid. ‘We’reallSoviet

peoplehere.Thisisn’tenemyaction.’‘Youdon’tknowthat,’saidKozlov.‘We’reinCossackcountry.Thiscouldbe

irredentism, this could be a provocation, it could be any number of things. If“we’re all Soviet people here”’ – hemadeMikoyan’s formula sound prim andweak– ‘tellmewhy thisone townhasgoneapeshit.Everywhere else, abit ofangry graffiti, a few nasty jokes, the odd arrest.Here, they’re seizing the townhall.Tellmeyouseeadifference.’‘Oh,comeon,’saidMikoyan. ‘Thereason this is theonlyplace that’shadan

explosionis,thisistheonlyplacethathadthepriceriserightontopofapaycut.Haveyoulookedatthefigures?Ourtremblingfriendovertheredecidedtobringin the new work-norms all at once, instead of phasing them in once he’d gotproductivityraised.Therearepeopleinthatcrowdwho’velost30%oftheirpaypackets.Comeon,there’sroomformanoeuvrehere.Thepricerisestays,butweoffersomehopeonthenorms.Weshouldtalktothem.’‘What,withaguntoourheads?’saidKozlov.Youwouldn’teven thinkabout

talkingifthereweren’t,pointedoutanunrulyvoicedeepinsideVolodya.‘Idon’tthinkso.’Theyglaredateachother.‘NikitaSergeyevichwillbeexpectingourreport,’Kozlovsaid,andreachedfor

thephonebetweenthem.Mikoyan’shandhadcomeouttoo,butitwasatentativemovement,checkedalmostimmediately.Kozlovjiggledthehandset,barkedatanoperator and then abruptly became deferential and solemn, like a doctor givingbadnews.Thedisorder,hesaid,wassevereand increasing.Fromthe receiver,Volodyacouldhearthethreadymurmurofavoicefamiliarfromnewsreelsandthetelevision.Itwassurreal:asifKhrushchevhadenteredtheroom,butreducedtothesizeofapaperclip.Kozlov was describing the march of the strikers into town, without actually

exaggerating the scene but with the terror Volodya had felt somehow daubeddirectly onto the crowd – ‘troublemakers and hooligans, Nikita Sergeyevich’ –whenarunnerinuniformburstintotheroomandcarriedapieceofpapertothegeneralsfromtheNorthCaucasusMilitaryDistrict.Theybenttheirheadsoverit,andthenoneofthegeneralssteppedforward,tappedKozlov’sarmandheldthemessagebeforehim.‘Excuseme,NikitaSergeyevich,’ saidKozlov. ‘I’m just being told that shots

have been fired at the central police station.Apparently, a part of themob arestormingit,andaretryingtoseizeautomaticweaponsfromthemilitia.’Pause.Threadymurmur.‘Myrecommendationisfordecisiveaction,’saidKozlov.Pause.Murmur.

‘Yes,I’msure,’saidKozlov.‘Thetimefortalking’sgone.’Pause.Murmur.KozlovsaidtoMikoyan:‘NikitaSergeyevichwantstoknowifyouconcur.’‘Surely–’beganMikoyan.Kozlovmuffledthereceiveragainsthisshoulder.‘Youknowthis isover the line,’hesaid toMikoyan. ‘This issofarover the

fuckinglineIcan’tbelieveyouthinkthere’sevenanythingtodiscuss.’Mikoyandroppedhisgazetohislap,lookedupagain;nodded.‘Heconcurs,’saidKozlovintothephone.‘We’llgetonit immediately.Don’t

worry,it’llallbesortedbysundown.Yes.Yes.Assoonasweknowanything.’Volodyafeltaninstantanddeeprelief.Theendwasinsight;itwasallgoingto

be sorted out. The troopswould break up the crowd. Thingswould be normalagain.Hecouldfeeltheknotinhisgutsunclenching.Kozlov put the phone down. He beckoned. Aides gathered round him and

Mikoyaninamutteringhuddle,andquicklygeneratedamassoforders,scribbledonlittlebitsoffoldedpaper.OneofthescribblerspointedatVolodya.‘You,’hesaid.‘You’rethelocalguy,aren’tyou?Takethisbackwhereyoujust

camefrom.’Volodya’sheartsank.‘Inthecar?’hesaidstupidly.‘Take a dromedary, for all I care,’ said the aide. ‘Just be quick.We’re on a

timetablenow.’Volodyalurchedoffthewallandforcedhisfeettocarryhimoutofthesmoky

safetyoftheconferenceroom,backupthebarrackscorridortowardstheroaringworld.ThelastthingheheardwasKozlov’svoice.‘Andgetmesomerealgrub,’hewassaying.‘Thisplaceissuchafuckinghole…’Back through the corridors, back to the courtyard.Noneed to pull rankon a

driver;hewaspartof agaggleof jog-trottingemissaries, it turnedout,militaryandcivil,allclutchingtheirpieceoffoldedpaper,allpilingtogetherintothetwoChaikas nearest the gate, all sitting in sweaty silence together on the ride backthrough the strangely ordinary streets; all piling out in the cross-street andscatteringontheirerrands.

*

Volodyapanteduptheprocuracystairs,crowdnoisegrowing,andcameoutundertheunprotectedskywithhisheadducked.Thesunwasthesame,thesmellwasthesame.Thenoise,infact,wasremarkablymuchthesame.Hegavethenotetothemonk-facedman,whowasleaningontheparapetandsmokingasifhehadallthetime in theworld,andgingerly lookedoverhimself.Hehadexpecteda riot,or

somethinglikeit;butwhateverwasgoingonatthepolicestation,thesquareonlyheld amass of people in the same state of calmwrath that hehad seenbefore.Somewere chanting and shouting at the empty balcony of the gorkombuilding:‘SendoutMikoyan!’‘GiveusMikoyan!’Manyhadsatdownonthegrassof thepublicgarden,asifonafoodlesspicnic.Theupturnedfacesshonelikegrainsofrice.‘Someone’s got their balls back, I see,’ said the civilian. ‘Herewe go, then,

lads.Not longnow.Youknow thedrill.’The soldierspickedup their gear andstartedtolineupalongtheparapet.‘Cigarette?’hesaidtoVolodya.‘Idon’t,’Volodyasaid.‘It’sbadforthechest.’‘No shit,’ saidmonk-face.He had ametal eye-toothwhich showedwhen he

grinned.Onrooftopsallaroundthesquare,Volodyacouldseesimilarmovement.Afew

peopledownbelowlookedupandpointed,presumablyseeingarmedsilhouettesappearagainsttherooflines.Butmostoftheattentionwasreservedforthedoublelineofsoldiersfilinginatthegorkomendofthesquare,totakeuppositiononthesteps.Theyhadanofficerwiththem,carryingaloudhailer.‘Allsoldiersoutofthecrowd,’hesquawked.‘AllKomsomoloutofthecrowd.

Allmilitiaoutofthecrowd.Allcomradesfromtheorgansofsecurity,outofthecrowd.’Tricklesoffacesstartedtoworktheirwayoutofthemass,ricegrainsinmotion, and shook themselves free at the square’s edges, walking away in thedifferentgreensoftheRedArmyandthepolice,inshirtsleevesandleatherjacketsandoveralls.Somewerecarryingcamerasandnotebooks.Theofficerwaitedtilltheywereclear.Thenheliftedthebullhornagain.‘This is an illegal demonstration. You are ordered to disperse immediately.

Yourgrievanceswillbeaddressed.’‘Calmdown,general,’someoneshouted,andtherewaslaughter.‘Disperseimmediately,’saidtheofficer.‘Nottilltheyspeaktous,’shoutedanothervoice,andaroarofapprovalechoed

offthebuildings,dwindlingintoseparatehubbubs,thenintomanydifferentcries.‘C’mon, you’re not going to shoot us!’ ‘You disperse!’ ‘Who are you to giveorders?’‘Standwiththeworkers!’‘SendusMikoyan!’‘Meatandmilkandapayrise!’‘Gohome,’ said theofficer.Somenewelement inhisvoicemadepartof the

crowd laughagain,butanotherpart shiftednervously. ‘Iwillcount to three,’hesaid, ‘and ifyoudonotbegin todisperse, Iwillhavenoalternativeand Iwillordermymentofire.One.’The front rank of the soldiers on the gorkom stairs dropped to one knee and

liftedtheirriflestilltheypointed,notatthecrowd,butattheskyoverhead,likeanhonourguardatavery rowdyfuneral.At this thecollectivevoiceof thecrowddid change pitch; it dropped to an alarmed bass murmur, and those who weresitting on the grass scrambled to their feet. The edge of the crowd nearest thegorkomevenfellbackafewmetres,shrinkingawayfromthelineofguns.‘Two,’shoutedtheofficer.‘ForGod’ssake,gohome!’The crowd wavered, but then someone cried out, ‘They won’t shoot at the

people,’ and forward surged the strikers again, the people at the front lessenthusiasticbutborneonbythepressfrombehind.‘Three,’ bellowed the officer, into sudden silence. The crowd stood. The

soldierswaited.Theofficerhelplesslypulledouthispistolandfireditintotheairover his head, a tinny little crack; at the signal the kneeling troopers let off arolling volley, much louder, and puffs of gun-smoke rose up from the gorkomsteps.Criesoffear,backwardsstumblinginthesquare,thenconfusedrealisationthatnoonewashurt.Callstoandfro,shoutsfronttobackinthecrowd,likethetelegraphofvoicesthathadbroadcastKurochkin’soffenceyesterdaymorning;andthecallsturning,unbelievably,nightmarishly,toreassurance.‘Standfirm!’‘Theywon’t shoot the people!’ ‘It’s only blanks!’ Volodya heard onewoman directlybelow crying, ‘They’re shooting, they’ll kill us,’ but immediately amale voiceanswered, ‘Areyououtofyourmind? Inour time?’And the crowd,whichhadlookedasifitmightshiverapart,solidifiedagain.‘Tsk,tsk,’saidmonk-face.‘Muchtoobrave.’Volodyacranedforward, lookingfor thereinforcementswhomustsurelynow

pouroutofthesidestreetstoshovethestrikersbackbymainforce,tobeatthembackwithbatonsmaybe,butahammer-blowofsoundfellonhisrightear,dazinghim. The world rang; then rang again, monstrously loud, and dulling as thehammerblows came over and over, on top of one another. Someone else wasshooting. Not the soldiers on the gorkom steps: they were reeling too, lookingwildly around fromside to side, trying toworkoutwhere thenewgunfirewascoming from. Itwas the crewonVolodya’s rooftopwhoweredoing it, and thecrews on the other rooftops, kneeling up at the parapets and firing down, spentcartridgecasesspinningoutof their rifles inslowfountainsofbrass.And thesebulletswerenotdisappearingintotheblue, theywerebeingdrilleddeliberatelyinto the fleshof thecrowd–whichshook,which fissured,which fell apart andrevealed that it was made only of the single bodies of men and women andchildren. A man of sixtysomething, grey beard, drinker’s cheeks, was turningbaffledonthespotjustwhereVolodyawaslooking,everyonearoundhimlurchinginto motion. Just where one of his neighbours with the guns was looking too,evidently:thenearsideoftheoldman’sheadcavedin,thefarsideblewoutina

geyser of red and grey.Awoman holding a baby got the spray in her face andbegan to scream,butnosound reachedVolodyaat all.Hescreamedhimself;heturnedaroundandwavedhisarmsinthefaceofthemonk-facedman,andshouted‘Stop!Stop!Whatareyoudoing?’The monk-faced man reached out big, soft, well-cared-for hands and seized

Volodya’swrists;pulledhimclosesothathecouldspeakintoVolodya’sear.‘Sitdown,’hesaid.‘Sitdown,son,andshutup.Begratefulyou’reuphere,and

notdownthere.’Volodya folded up against the parapet, but he could still see through the gap

between theplasterpillars.Hecouldseepeople trying to run,now,butmovingwithdreamslowness,withmouthsworking topushout syllablesof fearonebyone,whilethebulletstorealong,perfectlybrisk;torealong,andthrough.Hesawaman stumble and fall because his leg nowhinged in a newplace, at a craterhalfwayuphisthigh.Hesawbloodrunningfromears.Hesawbloodwithteethinit.Hesawafacepulped.Hesawakneeburst. Itmadenosense.Was themindsupposed toattack thebody?Did thehead reachdownand start chewingat thefibres of the arm? It made no sense! Volodya had wondered – you alwayswondered, if youwere in the luckygenerationborn later–howhewouldhavedone in thewar; and always suspected that hemight be a usefully cold fish inbattle,abletochoosenottocaremuchaboutsuffering,ifitwasn’thisown,sincewhat he felt for other peoplewas somuchmore often annoyance than anythingstronger. But he’d been wrong. There was no choosing in it. He saw, andsomething dreadful built in his face, sorrow or fear (was there any difference)pumpingall the tissues roundhiseyesup toapressure that tearsdidn’t relieve.Theyrandownhisface,buttheywouldhavehadtobreakoutofhimashardandfastastheroundsfromtheriflestomakeanydifference.Windowswerebreakingnow,atthecornersofthesquarewithMoscowStreetandPodtelkovStreet,astheguns chased the crowd in the direction it had come. The plate glass of thehairdressingsalonshattered.Amiddle-agedhairdresserblewacrosstheroomandceased to be.The shootingwent on, andon, andon.AndVolodyawrappedhisarmsaroundhishead,andwas,indeed,grateful.Whentheshootingstopped,thesquarewasempty,exceptforthebodies,some

moving,somenot.Twonewsmellsruledinitnow:theburntsmellofcorditeanda fresh hot reek like a butcher’s shop just after the stock van arrives. Volodyadragged back to the stairway in the wake of the descending soldiers, his feetjinglingonspentbrass.Atthefirstlandinghewasabruptlysick.Themonk-facedmancompanionablywaitedforhim,andlitanothercigarette.‘You’llgetusedtoit,’hesaid.No,Iwon’t,vowedVolodya.NoIwon’t.

Notes–III.2ThePriceofMeat,1962

1Volodya stood by the parapet at the edge of the flat roof of the city procuracy: althoughVolodyahimselfisinvented,alongwithBasovtheregionalfirstsecretary,andthesituationthatVolodyafindshimselfinwithhisseniorsdisgraced,theNovocherkasskmassacreof3June1962wasalltooreal.Mymainsourcewas Samuel H. Baron, Bloody Saturday in the Soviet Union: Novocherkassk 1962 (Stanford CA:Stanford University Press, 2001). Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 3, 1918–1956, AnExperiment in Literary InvestigationV–VII, translated byH. T.Willetts (London:Collins/Harvill, 1978),pp. 506– 14, contains a passionate and horrified account of the massacre, but it was compiled in therumour-chamberofsamizdat,andisnotreliableindetail.Foraneye-witnessaccount,drawnonbyBaron,seePiotrSiuda,‘TheNovocherkasskTragedy,June1–31962’,RussianLabourReview2,1993.

2Red flags flying, portraits of Lenin held high: Samuel Baron conjectures that the strikers, having nomodelfortheactofgoingonstrikethatwasordinaryandmoderateandcivic,mayhavefoundthemselvesimitating revolutionary behaviour as they had seen it in Soviet film and drama, because it was the onlymodelofmassactionthatwasavailabletothem.

3Thegreypeasoupandgristleservedintheircanteen:allthedetailsoffoodareauthentic.4OnlytoseethevisitorsfromMoscowpouringoutofthebuilding:thepanickyretreatfromtheParty

officeonthesquaretothebarracksisfactual,butIhaveconfabulatedtheconvoyofChaikas.5Thespecialforcessquadhadrescuedthematdawn: true,buttheideaofthelocalapparatchiksbeing

carriedaroundasanobject-lessoninblameismyinvention.6Putting in his footsoldier-time at some convenient raikom or gorkom in theMoscow region: a

‘raikom’was a Party committee for a county, and a ‘gorkom’was the same thing for a town,while an‘obkom’,onestepfurtheruptheladder,wasacommitteeforawholeregion.

7 Even with his spets for the party store: a ‘spets’ was the document that gave you access to aspetsraspredelitel’, a closed distribution system for goods. See Fitzpatrick,Everyday Stalinism, for the1930s beginning of such arrangements; Alena Ledeneva, Russia’s Economy of Favours: Blat,NetworkingandInformalExchange(Cambridge:CUP,1998),fortheirlatergrowthandelaboration.

8ButKurochkin,tohishorror,hadfollowedhim: thesceneintheconferenceroomisallconfabulation,fromthehumilationofKurochkin(thereal,historicaldirectoroftheBudennyElectricLocomotiveFactoryinNovocherkassk)tothemeansbywhichKozlovandMikoyanreachedtheirdecision,thoughitappearstobetruethatKozlovwaspushingforthemilitaryoptionandMikoyanwasreluctant.

9Ithadbeenalittleaftereighto’clockyesterdaymorning:Volodya’smemoryofKurochkin’sdisastrousperformanceinfrontofthecrowdisfaithfultofact,includingthe‘letthemeatliverpies’moment.IamnotawarethatanyoneatthetimenoticedtheMarieAntoinetteparallel.

10Fromthereceiver,Volodyacouldhearthethreadymurmurofavoicefamiliarfromnewsreels:forKhrushchev’spartinevents,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.519–23.

11Shotshavebeenfiredatthecentralpolicestation:Ihavecompressed the timeline,but thiswas thereport that trigged the decision to suppress the strike by force. It is not clearwhether a genuine violentattackwas underway, orwhether thiswas another piece of naively insurrectionary behaviour by peoplewhowereunpractisedatprotest.

12‘Andgetmesomerealgrub,’hewassaying.‘Thisplaceissuchafuckinghole…’: relocated tothismoment,butanauthenticremarkbyKozlovinNovocherkassk.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.522.

13‘Allsoldiersoutof thecrowd,’hesquawked: the sequenceofwhat theofficeron thegorkomstepssaid to thecrowdisgenuine,althoughIhaveconfabulateddirectspeechoutofreportsofsubjectmatter.Theslogansofthecrowdarereal,andsoisthestrikers’tenaciousrefusaltobelievetheycouldbeunderrealthreat.

14‘Areyououtofyourmind?Inourtime?’:authenticincredulity.SamuelBaronsuggeststhatthemainreference in the strikers’ memories for a demonstration that was fired upon will have been ‘BloodySaturday’in1905,whenworkersloyallycarryingpicturesoftheTsarwereattackedbyCossacks.ButthatwaspartoftheofficialiconographyofTsaristiniquity.Thespeakerhereseemstohavebeentakingitforgrantedthatnothingofthesortcouldhappeninthemodern,enlightenedcountrywherehelived.

15 It was the crew on Volodya’s rooftop who were doing it: at this point, the narrative becomes

contentious.ItisnotclearlyestablishedwhodidtheactualshootingatNovocherkassk–theregularsoldiersonthegorkomsteps,theInteriorMinistrytroopswhohadbeendraftedintothetown,orsomeothergroupbrought in by the security services. Nor is it clear where they were shooting from. Baron’s BloodySaturdayoutlinesseveralpossiblescenarios,andIhavechosenone.

16Thefarsideblewoutinageyserofredandgrey:thedetailsofthemassacrearemixtureofrealandimaginary.Thegrey-beardeddrinkershotintheheadisimaginary;thenursingmothersprayedwithbloodand brains is not, and neither is the hairdresser ceasing to be in the salon up the street. Baron has acompletelistofthedead.

The oldman took the bag in his teeth, and began to climb to heaven.Heclimbedandclimbed–heclimbedforalongtime.Theoldwomanasked:‘Isitstill far,oldman?’Hewasabouttosay‘Notfar’,whenthebagdroppedoutofhisteeth.Theoldwomanfelltothegroundandwassmashedtobits.Theoldmanclimbeddownfromthecabbagestalkandpickedupthebag,butinittherewereonlybones,andeventheywerebrokenintolittlepieces.

PARTIV

The same afternoon that twenty-eight people died on the square inNovocherkassk,KhrushchevgaveaspeechtoanaudienceofSovietandCubanteenagers. He was supposed to be talking about something quite different:instead,compulsively,hetalkedaboutthepricerise.Hetoldtheyoungpeoplewhat he’d hoped Mikoyan and Kozlov would be able to make the strikersbelieve, that havingmore expensivemeat and butter wouldmake agriculture‘riseasifonyeast!’Heturneditandturneditabout.‘Whatwerewesupposedtodo?’Hesaid thegovernmenthad trusted in thegoodsenseofcitizens. ‘Wedecidedtotellthepeopleandthepartythetruth.’Knowingwhatweknownow,itishardnottohearaconfusedanger.ThePolitburo’sannouncementhadcomeasashocktoapopulationwhichhadbeentrainedtoexpectpricesonlyevertofall, but it represented one of the few occasions in Soviet history where thedecision-makers genuinely tried to share their reasoning with the public.Khrushchev had taken the advice of experts.He had tried to do the virtuousthing,theanti-Stalinistthing,andithadjustmadehimamass-murdereragain.Theteenagersmayhavebeenpuzzledbyhismood,butnoonedetectedany

incongruity, that day or the next day, or for many years after, because, ofcourse, the Soviet people were certainly not told the truth about what hadhappened at Novocherkassk. Fire hoses were used to wash the blood off theground,andwhenstainsstillremained,thesquarewasrepavedovernightwithafreshlayerofasphalt.Thebodiesweredistributedtofivedifferentcemeteries,and buried anonymously, in graves already filled with more peaceful bones.Relativeswerenever toldwhathadbecomeof thedead. Itwasas if theyhadsuddenly evaporated. Not a word about the massacre appeared in thenewspapers,orontheradioortelevision;andgreatpressurewasappliedtothestudentsandworkersof the town todoubt the evidence of their senses, or, ifthey stubbornly insisted on remembering, to do so at least in silence and inprivate.Therehadbeensomeunrest,provokedbyahandfulof troublemakers,nowall tried and convicted for their crimes. The authorities had stepped in,calmhadbeenrestored,endofstory.Sincenooneknewdifferent,exceptinNovocherkasskitself,andlateron in

samizdatwhisperings,themassacredamagednobody’sreputation.FrolKozlovcontinued as Khrushchev’s heir apparent till he had a stroke the followingApril.AnastasMikoyanwentonbeingthecivilisedmanofSovietpolitics.Farmorepowerfulintheireffectweretheeventsplayedout,unignorably,inpublic:themissilecrisisKhrushchevblunderedintointheautumn,whichkillednobody

butmighthavekilledbillions,andthenextyear’satrociouswheatcrop,whichputpaidtohispredictionsofyeast-likesuccessinagriculture.Khrushchevwasby this time gleamingly bald, except for a white fuzz above each ear.Contemporaryjoke:WhatdoyoucallKhrushchev’shairdo?‘Harvestof1963’.Comparedtothese,themassacreatNovocherkasskcausednothingtohappen.Ithadnoconsequencesanywhere–exceptinthethinkingofthePolitburo.

*

By1963,almostalltheelementsseemedtobecomingtogetherinAcademicianNemchinov’s scheme to reform the Soviet economy mathematically. Newcybernetics institutes and departments had sprung up right across the SovietUnion, and were hurrying to complete pieces of the puzzle; or perhaps ofseveral different puzzles. Mathematical models were being built for supply,demand, production, transportation, factory location, short-term planning,long-term planning, sectoral and regional and national and internationalplanning. Automated control systems for factories had been commissioned. AgroupofRedArmy cyberneticianswereproposing an all-Union data networkthatcouldbeusedbyciviliansand themilitaryalike.ButNemchinovhimselfwasnolongerincharge.Anothercasualtyof1963,hewasnowtooilltogoonactingaspatronandprogress-chaser-in-chief to theproliferating,multiplyingdisciplinehe’dhelpedtoguideintoexistence.Whenhisownbaseofoperationsin the Academy expanded into the fully autonomous TSEMI, the CentralEconomic-Mathematical Institute, with a building out among the muddy newboulevardsof theSparrowHillsandabanner in thehall reading ‘Comrades,Let’s Optimise!’, he could not be its director. The alliances he had createdwould have to work by themselves. ‘The main task’, he had told a newconference at Akademgorodok, was now ‘the widespread introduction of theresultsofresearch’.Otherswerelesssurethattheresearchwasready,orthatitallpointedinthesamedirection.AcademicianGlushkov’sgroupdowninKievfavoured the direct cybernetic control of the entire economy, eliminating theneed for money altogether. The Akademgorodok crowd called for rationalpricing.AneconomistfromKharkovbythenameofEvseiLibermanhadmadeabig splash in Pravda by urging for profit to become the main indicator ofindustrial success. But the premise of the whole intellectual effort was thepracticalimprovement,verysoon,oftheSovieteconomy;ofallitstenthousandenterprises, and of the systems that integrated and co-ordinated them. ThecountdowntoparadiseinthePartyProgrammerequiredtheeconomytogrow,throughthe1960s,attherateithadintheofficialfiguresforthe1950s:10.1%.

Theeconomistshadundertakentosupportthisbybringingtheoryswiftlydownto theshopfloor.Mines,departmentstores,chemicalplants, fur farms, freightdepots:allofithadtobeoptimised.Every year, every enterprise in the Soviet Union had to agree a

tekhpromfinplan with the organisation it reported to. The tekhpromfinplancovered finance for theenterprise,and the technology itwouldbeusingoverthenexttwelvemonths,butmostimportantlyitstatedtargetsforproduction.Itspecifiedwhattheenterprisemustproduce,andinwhatquantity,andatwhatquality,inordertofulfilitsplan.Therewerebonusesforthemanagersiftheyoverfulfilled the plan, penalties if they underfulfilled it. Exactly how thetekhpromfinplan was worked out kept changing, as initiatives from the toprestlesslyrejiggedtheSovietUnion’sbureaucracy.Buttherewerealwaysthreemainplayers.Therewastheenterprise,downatthebottom;therewasGosplan,upatthetop;andinthemiddle,therewouldbeanintermediary.Sometimestheintermediary gathered together all the enterprises working in one particularareaof industry, and then itwouldbe calleda ‘ministry’.Minradioprom, forinstance, the Ministry for Radio Production. But at the time we are talkingabout,theintermediarywasasovnarkhoz,aregionaleconomiccouncil,whichgatheredtogetherall theenterprises inonegeographicalzoneof thecountry,nomatterwhatproductstheymade.If you were reading the official descriptions of the system published by

Gosplan, you would think it worked liked this. Every spring, as the SovietUnion’sriversbrokeup intogranitasofwet ice,Gosplananalysed lastyear’sperformance figures, paying close attention to the strategic priorities for theeconomy,andthebigpictureofthemarchtocommunistabundance.Butbeforeithadquitefinished–alas,therewasneverenoughtimetodothingsinstrictsequence, and the year’s work tended all to proceed via estimates, latercorrected – the zaiavki, the ‘indents’, had already been sent out to theenterprises.Ontheseprintedforms,theenterprisesrequestedthesuppliestheywouldneedfornextyear’sproduction.Buttheenterprise,ofcourse,didnotyetknowhowmuchitwasgoingtobeaskedtomanufacture.Somanagementwouldestimate how much coal, gas, electricity, wool, ammonia, copper piping,polystyreneetc.itmightneed,onematerialperprintedform,onthebasisofaplausible percentage rise from its output last year. Around about the end ofJune, Gosplan would complete the set of draft production targets. They,descending fromGosplan,wouldarrive in theofficesof thesovnarkhozat thesametimeastheascendingmassofzaiavkiandproductionproposalsfromtheenterprises,andaperiodofnegotiationthenfollowedinwhichthesovnarkhozand the enterprises together explored the true productive possibilities of the

enterprises.Gosplan’s ‘control figures’came inahighlyaggregated form, forease of handling: general categories of production, from ferrous metals tofoodstuffs. It was up to the sovnarkhoz to disaggregate them into the actualproducts its region produced, and to divide the making of them between itsenterprises.Needless tosay, themanagementof theenterprisemightprefer alooser plan, and a more generous flow of materials, than suited the overallinterests of the economy. Negotiation continued until the sovnarkhoz hadimposedontheenterpriseatautbutnotimpossiblelevelofoutputandaleanbut not impossible level of inputs. Then, around the end of September, thesovnarkhozcombinedallof theadjustedzaiavkiandproduction targets for itsregionandsentthemontoGosplan.Gosplanaddedupallofthezaiavki fromroundthecountrytogivea figure

for the totaldemand for eachcommodity,andaddedupall of theproductiontargetstogiveafigureforeachcommodity’stotalsupply.Thiswascalled‘themethod of balances’. It ensured that, at every upward step of the socialisteconomy,thequantityofeachproducttheUSSRproducedalwaysbalancedthequantityofeachproductthatwasrequired.Butitmightbethatthetwofigures,at first, did not quite match. Then there would follow a second period ofnegotiation, this time between Gosplan and the various sovnarkhozy, withGosplandoingitsbesttolimitdemand(oratleasttoprioritiseitonthemoststrategic sectors) and to expand supply. Negotiation continued until Gosplanhad agreed with the sovnarkhozy, in turn, a challenging but manageableprogramme of production. The economy once balanced, the Council ofMinisterssignedoffGosplan’sworkinlateOctober,justallowingtimeforthefinal production targets and supply quotas to be passed down to thesovnarkhozy, for the sovnarkhozy to divide them between the enterprises, andfortheenterprisestogoshoppingfortheirneedsinthecomingyearinthevastcompendiumofthe‘specifiedclassification’,whichlistedeveryitemproducedanywhereintheSovietUnion.Thislastpulseofpaperworkpassedthroughtheeconomy in earlyDecember.With their order-books now filled firmly for thecoming year, managers could dot the i’s and cross the t’s on theirtekhpromfinplan,and(preciousdocumentinhand)boardthetraintodeliverittothesovnarkhozjustbeforeNewYear,inaspiritofjustifiedcelebration.Allclearsofar?

Notes–Introduction

1 Khrushchev gave a speech to an audience of Soviet and Cuban teenagers: see Taubman,Khrushchev,p.523.

2Firehoseswereused towash thebloodoff theground: seeBaron,BloodySaturday in theSoviet

Union.3TillhehadastrokethefollowingApril:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.613–14.4Contemporary joke:What do you callKhrushchev’s hairdo?: seeGraham, ‘ACulturalAnalysis of the

Russo-SovietAnekdot’.5 New cybernetics institutes and departments had sprung up: see Gerovitch, From Newspeak toCyberspeak .

6ButNemchinov himselfwas no longer in charge: for a sharp-tongued account of his sudden loss ofstanding,andtheappointmentofAcademicianFedorenkotoTSEMIinstead,seeKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR.Trying to read thesituationfromCaliforniaeightyears later, Simon Kassel, Soviet Cybernetics Research: A Preliminary Study of Organisations andPersonalities, RANDCorporation reportR-909-ARPA (SantaMonicaCA,December 1971), pp. 86–7,remarked that Fedorenko seemed to be ‘without observable experience in computer technology orautomation’, andwonderedwhether thiswaswhy TSEMI ‘appears to have gradually changed from aneconomics laboratory, engaged in the realization of a preconceived theoretical system of ideas, into anoperationalsupportagencyfortheGosplan’.Thebannersaying‘Comrades,Let’sOptimise!’wasseenbyMichaelEllmanonaresearchvisittoMoscowinthemid-sixties:Ellman,SovietPlanningToday.

7‘Themaintask,’hehadtoldanewconferenceatAkademgorodok:seeV.Kossov,Yu.Finkelstein,A.Modin, ‘Mathematical Methods and Electronic Computers in Economics and Planning’ [report ofNovosibirsk conferences,October andDecember 1962],Problems of Economics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.6no.7,November1963;originallyinPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.2,1963.

8AcademicianGlushkov’sgroupdowninKiev:see,again,Gerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak ,pp.271–4, and forGlushkov’s lifehistory and the storyofhisnegotiationswithgovernment,Malinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing,pp.29–59.

9AneconomistfromKharkovbythenameofEvseiLiberman:seeE.G.Liberman,‘PlanningProductionandStandardsofLong-TermOperation’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.8,December1962,pp.16–22;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.8,1962.Libermanwasinterpretedoutside theSovietUnionasbeing the leaderof economic reform ingeneral, as inV.G.Tremi,‘ThePoliticsofLibermanism’,SovietStudies19(1968),pp.567–72.HewasputonthecoverofTime–‘BorrowingfromtheCapitalists’,TimeMagazine,12February1965–andananswerappearedunderhisname in themagazine Soviet Life in July 1965, for which see E. G. Liberman, ‘AreWe FlirtingWithCapitalism?Profitsand“Profits”’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4,August1965,pp.36-41.

10Every enterprise in the Soviet Union had to agree a tekhpromfinplan: for the tekhpromfinplansystem,andamercilesslyluciddemonstrationofwhyitcouldnotproduceaplanthatwaseithercompleteor consistent, see Ellman,Planning Problems in the USSR. For the zaiavki (indents) see Herbert S.Levine,‘TheCentralizedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’,inFranklynZ.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:RandMcNally,1962).

11Butatthetimewearetalkingabout,theintermediarywasasovnarkhoz:see,againinHolzman,ed.,Readings on the Soviet Economy, David Granick, ‘An Organizational Model of Soviet IndustrialPlanning’, andOlegHoeffding, ‘TheSoviet IndustrialReorganizationof1957’.Foranassessmentof theeffectsofKhrushchev’sexperimentwiththesovmarkhozy,andtheplanningofproductionbyregionratherthan‘branch’,seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

12Every spring, as the Soviet Union’s rivers broke up into granitas of wet ice: for the detailedchronology of the planning year, in pristine theory and imperfect practice, see Levine, ‘The CentralizedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’.

13All clear so far?: a phrase shamelessly borrowed from the explanation ofmid-twenty-first-centuryUSmilitaryprocurementinKimStanleyRobinson,TheGoldCoast(NewYork:Tor,1988).

‘IwantthelovelySwanMaidentostandbeforeme,andthroughherfeatherslet her body be seen, and through her body let her bones be seen, andthroughherbones let itbeseenhow frombone tobone themarrow flows,likepearlspouredfromonevesseltoanother.’

TheMethodofBalances,1963Maksim Maksimovich Mokhov was a very kind man. All of his colleaguesremarked on it. When he travelled on business to the Comecon countries orbeyond,hewouldalwaysbringbackathoughtfullittlepresent,andbynomeansthe stereotyped or obvious things for which those places were known. FromBulgaria, for example, he brought back for his secretary a small flask of thegenuine attar of roses, presented with a little bow: too strong to be used asperfume in the ordinary way of things, but nevertheless delightful. When sheuncorkedit,aheavyrichnesssoakedtheairofGosplan,likecrimsondyesinkinginto a bowl of water. From Poland he brought ceramic plaques of kings andknights, as thin andbrittle as icedbiscuits.FromSwedencamechildren’s toys,beautifullymadefromwood.Nothavinganychildrenhimself,hegavethesetohisdeputies in the department; andwhen the seven-year-old daughter of onewrotehimathank-youletter,hereplied,coveringasheetofpaperincarefulscript,andreplacing many of the nouns with charming little pictures. A horse instead of‘horse’,forexample.Thesameconsideration, itwassaid,appliedinhisprivate life.Hiswifehad

beenkilledinthesiegeofLeningrad,whentheywerebothintheirlatertwenties.Althoughhehadneverremarried,hehadbeenattachedvirtuallysincetheendofthewar to awoman in a similar position, a youngwidow then, a rather olderwidownow.Thisladyhadsufferedsomesortofstreetaccidentacoupleofyearsagowhich had injured her face, causing great problems to her and, apparently,ruiningwhatwas leftofher looks.MaksimMaksimovichhadremaineddevotedthroughout,securingtheservicesofthebestdoctorsforher,andtakingnostepstoreplaceherwithanewmistress,eventhoughitwouldnothavebeendifficultforamaninhispositiontodoso.Anumberofyoungwomeninthebuildingwouldinfacthavebeenwilling,impressedbyhisfidelity.HereceivedlooksofsympathyandadmirationwhenhehandedoutthetraditionalbouquetsonWomen’sDay.Butheseemedcontenttoleavethingsastheywere.Tuesdayeveningsweretheregulartimeforhimandhisladyfriendtohearaconcert,ortogototheoperatogether.Hecouldbeseenstandingat themirror inhisoffice, justbeforehe left, tidyinghisbrilliantined hair andmaking efforts to reduce the diabolical appearance of hisbushyeyebrows.Thenhewouldhookhiscoatjauntilyoffthehatstand,checktheenvelope of tickets in his inside pocket and be off down the long corridors,bendinghisdarkheadandhisspindlyshouldersobliginglytoacquaintances.

Whatamind,though.Assharpasarazor.Eveninhiskindness,youmightfeelthathewasamusedbywhatheunderstoodofyou,andperhapsalsobywhatheunderstoodofhimself.Intimesalikeoffrenzy,denunciation,desperation,triumph,complaisanceandanxiety,hehadmadehimselfvaluable.HehadrisenashighasyoucouldgoatGosplanbeforethepostsbecamepurelypoliticalappointments;tothe top, in other words, of one of its industrial departments, but not into thegeneralpolicy apparatus at the apexof thepyramid,which tended tobe staffedfromtheCentralCommittee.Yet,sincehiswasthelevelatwhichcompetencewasknown to reach its ceiling, people at itwere sometimes, paradoxically, a gooddeal more important than their job title suggested. On paper, MaksimMaksimovichwasDeputyDirectoroftheSectorofChemicalandRubberGoods,responsiblefortheforty-onestrategiccommoditiesinthechemicalandsynthetic-rubber industries which the notional Directors of the sector rarely had time tocontemplate in detail, being (as they were) apparatchiks in a hurry, and oftenunable tofindtheirarseswithbothhands, letalonetoanalyse theaccountsofachemical factory. And this was significant enough, for chemicals were a vitalsectoratpresent,growingsofastthatit tookalltheplanners’agilitytokeeptheexpansion under control. But in practicemuch of the day-to-day running of thedepartment was handled, in turn, byMaksimMaksimovich’s trusted assistants,because he himself was now being called on flatteringly often by MinisterKosygin,poisedrightontheverypointoftheGosplanpyramid,toactasoneofhiskitchencabinetofadvisers.YearbyyearMaksimMaksimovichunderstoodthestresspoints,thesecretpath

dependences,oftheplan.Onawholerangeofsubjects,hecouldgiveyouaviewof themost refined realismaboutwhatwas likely toworkandwhat to run intoapparently unforeseeable trouble. Moreover, he kept up (so far as Gosplan’slibrary let him)withWestern commentaryon theplan,whichhe could translateinto Soviet terms. He could tell you, with beautiful ideological tact, whatforeigners meant when they said the Soviet system suffered from ‘suppressedinflation’ or a ‘permanent sellers’market’. Conversely, he could seewhere theunfolding developments of the plan might create business opportunities for theSoviet Union in theWest. Hence the trips he now found he was taking, not toRomania to talk about nylon, but to Stockholm to help Kosygin talk to thecapitalists, riding along in a jump seat of the ministerial Zil, other competentpersons from Trade and Finance and Gosbank perched around him. Then anunobtrusive conference room, with the Soviet Union’s technicians ofmoney ononesideand theWest’son theother: loans,credits,wheatpurchases,petroleumsales.ItwasimpossibleforMaksimMaksimovichnottonoticethat,ontheothersideofthetable,theintelligencetypesandsecuritymenservedthebankers,while

onhisitwasthebankerswhowhisperedadvicetothecommissar.IntheWest,hesaw, the limousinewouldhavebeenhisown.Youmaybesure that this thoughtmanifesteditselfonlyasaninvisibleadditiontotheironyofhisgaze.Maksim Maksimovich would probably not have been working the balances

himself,thisparticularOctobermorning,ifaplagueoffluhadnotsweptthroughthe Gosplan tower, felling several of his subordinates just as the frantic finalweeksofplanrevisionbegan.Thesituationwasanuisance:yethowexhilaratingtogetbackintothespecificsofthesystemagain,withitsnever-endingjudgementcalls, itshiddenlittlepsychologicalgames,itslateralcomplexities.Hewhistledunder his breath as he trundled his famous chair in front of him across theherringbone parquet of the eighteenth floor. The chair was famous because hecould trundle it. It was an ingenious East German contrivance, terriblycomfortable tosit in,whichhadfour littlecastorsat theendof legscurvingoutfromacentralmetalcolumn.Hehadbroughtitbackhimself,bytrainfromBerlin,andusedittospintoandfroacrosshisofficeatalarmingspeeds.Onitsseat,twovolumesofchemical-industryinputco-efficientswereweighingdownathinfileofcorrespondence.‘Goingintobattle?’saidapasser-byfromNon-Ferrous.‘That’showthesteelwastempered,’hesaid.‘Howmanydownwithit,withyou?’‘Elevensofar,andtwomoresuspiciouslygreen.You?’‘Worse!’Thebalanceswerekeptinalong,library-likeroomlinedwithfilingcabinets,

watched over by a librarian-like gorgon at a central desk.Mokhov showed hispass–thoughinhiscase, itwasnotstrictlynecessary–andseatedhimselfataworkspacewheretherewasaconvenientspareabacus.Heshothiscuffswithatouchoftheatre,andopenedthefile.Thisroomhadbeenhisplaygroundformanyyears, and it stimulated him still. In its greymetal drawers this yearwere 373folders, each holdingwork- in-progress on the balance for a commodity.Threehundred and seventy-three commodities: represented, for the most part, in thehighestpossiblestateofgenerality,sothateachoneofthemrolledtogetherunderasingleheadingwhatwasinpracticeamassofdifferentproducts.Yetstilltheycastonlytheloosestandmostimperfectconceptualnetovertheprodigiousoutputoftheeconomyasawhole.Therewerequarterofamillionseparateitemslistedin the specified classificationof the electro-technical industry alone.You couldnevercapturetheactivityofsomethingsohuge,soirredeemablymultiple,in373folders.Itwouldhavebeenanabsurderror,therefore,tosupposethattheroominanysubstantialsensecontainedtheeconomy.Thebestthatcouldbesaidwasthatitcontainedakindofstrategicoutlineofit.No;thatwasnotquitetrue.Thebest

that could be said about the roomwas that it worked, and had done for thirtyyears. Some of the folders tracked the basics of industrial life: steel, concrete,coal,oil, lumber,electricpower.Someweredevoted to thefoodsupply,and toagriculture’s inputsof tractorsandfertiliser.Someattended tosensitivemilitaryitems.Somefollowedtheproductionofveryspecificpiecesofcriticalmachinery,because thesewere the tools onwhichwhole other sectors depended for theirexistence. Some paid special attention to new technologies just now beingbootstrapped into being. Some concentrated on thingsmany different industriesused. It was an ad hoc apparatus, not one generated predictably from a set ofaxioms.Itwasnottheresultofanyeconomictheory.Butitfunctioned.Itprovidedtheeconomywithsomethingnecessary:aplacewheretheincompatibledemandsmadeonitwouldrevealthemselves,wheretheyfinallyroseupandrequiredtobereconciled,withwhateverfinesseaplannercouldmuster.Andfinesseitneededtobe, for the 373 commodities did not exist independently. They wereinterconnected.Achangetotheoutputofonemightsendripplesofchangethroughmany others.At this time of year, teams from the different departmentwere allpursuing the consequences of their own last-minute revisions from folder tofolder,tryingtomakethebalancescompatiblewitheachother,tryingtomakethebalances balance; before the time ran out, and the revisions had to end, and asummaryofthestateoftheroomhadtobesentonuptotheCouncilofMinistersforapproval, in the formof twenty-two typedvolumesof figures, four thousandpagesorthereabouts,loadedontoatrolley.So. Maksim Maksimovich spread documents and telegrams with his long

fingers.AlittleproblemwithSolkemfib,theviscoseplantatSolovets,awayoffinthegreengloomofthenorth-easternforests.ItwasoneofMaksimMaksimovich’snewgenerationofchemical-fibreoperations,alongwiththebignewinstallationsatBarnaulandSvetlogorsk,anditoughtnot tohavebeencausingtroubleat thispointinitslife-cycle,withmachinesonlyfouryearsoldandthetrialsofrunningtheminsafelybehind.Ithaditsownwood-pulpmill,toprovidecellulose,andanicebig lakeforwater.Powercameby220-kilovolt linefromoneof thehydrostationson theupperVolga.Everything else arrived anddepartedon a railroadspur. Really, it was only salt, sulphur and coal in, viscose out. That was theparticularsimplicityofviscoseproductionfromtheplanner’spointofview.Noneof themorecomplexchemical inputs theprocess required–sulphuricacid, lye,carbon disulphide – could easily be transported in bulk. They all had to bemanufacturedon thespot,at theplant itself;whichmeant that, to theremoteandabstractingeyeofsomeonechieflyconcernedwithsupplychains,aviscoseplantcouldbetreatedasrobust.Itwasrelativelyinsensitivetodisruption.Itcouldbesuppliedfrommultiplesources.Itwasnotahostagetoproblemselsewhere.Feed

it itsrawmaterials,anditchuggedalong,aneconomicblackbox,busilyturningtrees into sweaters and cellophane and high-strength cord for car tyres. Thisalways struck Maksim Maksimovich as a very obliging way for a physicalprocesstowork–andcharminglyclosetothepoliticaltextbookstoo.Treesintosweaters! Brute matter uplifted to serve human purposes!What could be moredialectical?Whoknows,perhapsthisthoughthadfiguredinMrK.’sdecisionthatthecitizensofhisradiantfutureshould,mainly,bewearingviscoseandpolyester.Yes,aviscoseplantwasanactivist.Itwokenaturefromitsidlesleepandsetittowork. Unfortunately, it also created a mighty run-off of lignins and poisonoussulphidecompounds,butSolovetswasagoodlongwayfromanywhereelse.Yet somehow Solkemfib had contrived to fumble. The week before last,

accordingtothereportinfrontofhim,apieceofheavyearth-movingequipmenthadbeenleftovernightonahilltopbesidetheplantwhereconstructionwasduetobegin.Sometimeinthesmallhours,theclutchhadslipped.Thebehemothrolleddownhill,gatheringspeedasitjoltedovertreestumps,untilbythetimeitreachedthebottomithadacquiredthemomentumofawreckingballatfullswing.ItrolledstraightthroughthethinbrickwallofSolkemfib’sNo.2StretchingandSpinningShop and crashed into the delicate machinery for stretching the fresh viscosefilament as it emerged from spin baths of sulphuric acid. Since the line wasrunningatthetime,thecollisioncausedconsiderablespillageofacid,anditwassome time beforeworkerswere able to separate thewreckage.At this point itbecameclear that,between the impactand the spill, the stretchingmachinewasbeyond the reach of even the most ingenious repair. The plant’s mechanicalengineerhadsubmitteda listof thecrushedanddamagedparts. Inspectors fromthesovnarkhozconfirmedthatthemachinewas,indeed,awrite-off.Localpoliceinvestigatingtheaccident,withthehelpofthesameSolkemfibengineer,hadfoundthatthebrakesandclutchhadbeenproperlysetwhentheearth-moverwasparked.Aflawinitshydraulicsystemwastoblame.Enterprise-leveldifficultiesweresupposedtobedealtwithatthesovnarkhoz,

andthestageforbargainingoverthemwasdefinitivelyoverforthisyear.Butthesovnarkhozhadbehavedquitecorrectlyinpassingthisparticularproblemstraighton up. It had the potential to cause serious disruption. Without the stretchingmachine,thewholeNo.2lineatSolovetswasoutofaction.Halfthecapacityoftheplanthadsuddenlybecomeunavailable;anditwasthehalfthatproducedtyrecord,not thehalf that turnedoutviscose fibre forclothing.WithoutSolkemfib’scontribution of tyre cord, the tyre cord balance would sink into deficit on thesupplyside;andthatcouldhaveaknock-oneffectontheoutputoftyres;andthatinturncouldcauseafallintheoutputofcarsandtrucksandbuses;andsoon,andsoon,theoriginalshortfallleapingfromcommoditytocommodity,fromfolderto

folder, propagating itself around the room and therefore around the economy,branching and multiplying and creating chaos. So many of the strategiccommodities were themselves inputs in the production of other strategiccommoditiesthatabigchangeintheavailabilityofonecould,intheory,rippleonundamped,orperhapsevenamplified, throughareasof theplanutterlyremovedfrom the starting point, seeding all the balances it passed through withincompatibilities that would themselves require further disruptive waves ofrevisiontodealwith.Intheory–MaksimMaksimovichhadseenthemathematicaldemonstrations – you would need to revise all the balances a minimum of sixtimes over, and amaximumof thirteen times, tomake them consistentwith oneanother again, and if all 373 commodities were evenly interconnected, eachiteration would require 373 x 373, or 139,129 separate calculations. Theacademicwould-be reformersof theeconomymademuchplaywith this. Itwasthe basis for Emil Shaidullin’s entertaining prediction that, by 1980, the entirepopulationwouldhavetoworkfull-timeonbalancingtheplan.But here, thought MaksimMaksimovich, was precisely where the reformers

showedtheirnaivety.Theymissedthepointentirelyoftheplanner’stask;whichwasnottoadjustpassivelytodisruptingdevelopments,buttotakeactivestepstolimit their effect. The art of the planner was to lead away a ripple of changethrough thebalances in suchadirection that itdieddown,with theminimumofconsequences, in the minimum number of steps. Gosplan did not deal withalterationsintheplanbyrepeatedlyrevisingall373balances,oranythinglikeit.Andnorwashegoingtochasetheconsequencesofashortfalloftyrecordmeeklythrough balance after balance. He would cut off the forward-running shortagebeforeitcouldseriouslyaffecttyreproduction,letalonerunonintothebalancefor vehicles. Tyre cord could be made of other things than viscose, and quickordersforthesubstituteswouldmakeuppartofthegap.Theresthewouldfillbylast-minute increases to the tyre-cord target for all the other viscose producers.Theywouldgroanandstrain,but theywouldprobablymanage tocovermostofthe increase, and he could sweeten the situation for them by generosity withviscose’shandilygenericrawmaterials;also,perhaps,withextradollopsofcash,under some suitableheading, tomakeup for the fulfilmentbonuses thoseplantswouldprobably lose.Alas, theeffectofmoves like thesewasalways to tightentheplananotchor twofurther thananyonehadoriginally intended. Itwouldbepushed (everywhere, as other colleagues didwhat hewas doing) that bitmoretowardsastatewhereitsgoalscouldonlyjustbarelybeachieved.Thusitwouldbe more vulnerable to bad luck, and even more susceptible to proliferatinggridlock should anything else go wrong. But the alternative was the incoherentwonderlandofthemathematicians.

First,though,hehadtoknowjusthowbigtheshortfalloftyrecordwasgoingtobe.Itdepended,ofcourse,onhowlongtheNo.2lineatSolovetsstayeddown;which in turn depended very much on what he, Maksim Maksimovich, nowdecidedtodoaboutit.Again,notatallamathematicalproblem.Hehadbeensentnumbers, but his task was to descry, through them, the human situation behind.WhatwasgoingonatSolovets?Theaccidentmadehiminstinctivelysuspicious.Hecountedthepiecesofbadluckrequiredforittohavehappened.Earth-moverparkedjustso;faultinthehydraulics;treelesspathdownthehillside;entrypointthrough the wall exactly beside the machine; acid spill. Five separateunlikelihoodsalllinedupinarow,oneaftertheother.Veryneat.Intheolddays,headswouldhave rolledover thisonprinciple. Itwouldhavebeen labelledassabotagejusttoclosethebooksonit.Theorgansofsecuritywouldswiftlyhaveuncoveredaconspiracyofwreckers,vilelydeterminedtocheatthepeopleoftheirrightful viscose. But the policy now was not to compound the effects of anaccidentbylosing,inaddition,theexpertiseofskilledworkersoverit.Afterall,accidentsdidhappen. Itwasnotaverysatisfactoryobjection toanevent that itwas unlikely, for in the nature of probability, unlikely things took place all thetime.Andthen,tosetagainsthissuspicions,therewastheonegreatcounteractingfactor that he could not for the life of him seewhatmotive there could be fordeliberately doing such a thing. The risk would be enormous, even now. Youwould have to be desperate. A personal grudge of some kind, a disaffectedindividual? Hard to believe that they could have covered their tracks so well.Management?Hard toseewhatcause themanagementatSolkemfibwouldhavefordesperation.Heslidtherelevantpageinfrontofhim.Someteethingtroubleswiththetyre-cordlinelastyear,andasaresultamixofoutputslightlyawryfromwhattheplanhadcalledfor,withagoodgrossoutputbuttoomuchordinaryyarnin it.But thisyear, solidprogress: tyrecordoutput2%above target in the firstquarter,3%inthesecondquarter,smackinthegoldenzoneofplanoverfulfilmentwhichbroughtbonusesrainingdown.Youwouldn’timperilthatvoluntarily.Mokhov sighed. The gorgon, whose hair was rinsed the red of old blood,

smiledathim.Hekickedoffgracefullyfromthetableandhiswheeledchairflewbackwardsacross theroomtowards therankofcabinetswhere thebalancesfor133typesofmachinerywerekept.ThereplacementstretchingmachineSolkemfibwas requesting, urgently backed up by the sovnarkhoz, was itself a strategiccommodity. He riffled through a drawer and found it: the PNSh-180-14Scontinuous-action engine for viscose, exclusively produced in Sverdlovsk by adivision of Uralmash, the giant of machine-building enterprises. Recenttechnologicalupgrade.Thefolderwasthin,whichsuggestedthatthisbalancehadhardlybeenalteredatall.Hewasnotsurprised.Withjustonemanufacturer,anda

take-up determined by the rate new viscose plants opened, therewould not bemuch volatility in the call for a PNSh-180-14S, unless something like thishappened.Butthatmightmakeitalltheworsetointroduceanalterationnow.Aviscose stretching-machinewas not somehandy lathe-sizedobject, threemetresbytwo.Itwasametalporcupinethewidthofasubwayhall.Buildingonewasasizeablecommitmentofresourcesinitself,andforthatmatteramajorcapitalcosttoo.Hepickedout thefolderandpropelledhimselfacross theflooragain,withpaddlingmotionsofhisshiningblackshoes.Ahyes:atotalproductionofonlyseventeenmachinesforthewholeUSSR,and

norevisionspaperclipped to theoriginalbalance.Thepage in frontofhimwassimplicity itself compared to some balances.On the left, under ‘SOURCES’, itgaveproductionas17,importsasnil,suppliers’stocksasnil.Ontheright,onthe‘DISTRIBUTION’ side, it listed the plants receiving themachines, in order oftheirsovnarkhoz.Nildistributionforexport,nilforsuppliers’stocks,nilforthespecialreserveoftheCouncilofMinisters.Nilnilnil.Crisplypencilledwordsandnumbersinsidethesmudgyboxesoftheform;departmentalauthorisationcodeandoperator’sinitialsdownatthebottom.MaksimMaksimovichhesitated.Ifheadded onemore to the production side, hewould be condemning theUralmashdivisioninquestiontosqueezeouttheequivalentofa6%outputboost,ontopofthe agreed growth for next year, just by that act. It would certainly stress theiroperationsanddisarrangetheirtimetablefortheyear.Butthealternativewouldbetoloseoneoftheseventeenmachinesalreadyonorder,andwithitachunkofthelonger-termoutputgrowthinviscoseheneededtosatisfythetargetsoftheSeven-YearPlan.Hewassupposedtogetchemical-fibreproductionuptofourhundredthousandtonnesperannumby1965.He couldhavewished thatSolkemfib’sNo. 1 linehadbrokendown instead.

True, clothing manufacturers were waiting for the ordinary yarn it made, butcomparedtothetireplantstheywereadistinctlylowpriority;because,onesinglestepbeyondthem,youarrivedattheconsumer,andtheconsumerwasanend-pointof the system,and thereforeanatural sink for shortages.All that consumersdidwithviscosewastowearit.Noonestoodbeyondtheminthechain,sotherewereno consequences whatsoever for inconveniencing them, no farther balances toconsider.Youcouldinconveniencetheconsumerwithimpunity.He cast himself off once more, shuttling sideways to the central desk. The

gorgongavehimablankbalanceform,freshfromthemimeograph,andhesignedfor it.Thenhe sailedback towhere thepaperswere spreadout.Hepoisedhispencil.Hewould,hedecided,doalittlesomethingtokeepSolkemfib’smindsonthejob,bytauteningtheircoalandsaltandsulphursuppliesatad.Badluckmightspring from carelessness, and should be discouraged. A reminder of plan

disciplinewoulddonoharm.But theywouldhave theirPNSh-180-14S,andsowouldallofhisenterprisesthatwerealreadyexpectingone.Uralmashcouldbesoothedsomeotherway.Intheboxnexttotheword‘production’ontheleft-handsideofthenewpage,hewrotefirmly,‘18’.There; therewasthebudgetofpainsharedout, and sharedoutmoreor lessevenly, since theremustbeabudgetofpain.MaksimMaksimovichMokhovwasaverykindman.

Notes–IV.1TheMethodofBalances,1963

1MaksimMaksimovichMokhovwasaverykindman:butanentirelyfictionalone.DeputyDirectoroftheSectorofChemicalandRubberGoodswasa real job,but the relationship Ihavesuggestedbetweenprofessional-bureaucrat deputies and political-appointee sector directors is conjectural, and I have noknowledgeofanyonebeingcalledupfromthemiddlerankstoserveina‘kitchencabinet’fortheMinister,asMokhovdoeshere.Heisactinginthisbookasaconfabulatedembodimentoftheinstitution.HistoneofvoicedrawsontheexasperatedGosplanwitnessinEllmanandVolodyaKontorovich,eds,TheDestructionof the Soviet Economic System, and on the Gosplan official interviewed in Adam Curtis’s TVdocumentary ‘The Engineers’ Plot’, programme 1 of Pandora’s Box, BBC TV 1992; but also, andespeciallyonhisreturninpartVchapter2,onDostoevsky’sGrandInquisitorinTheBrothersKaramazov.There’s also useful material on official attitudes (at different levels) to property, in Hachten, PropertyRelations.

2When he handed out the traditional bouquets onWomen’s Day: International Women’s Day wascelebrated(andstillisinpresent-dayRussia)on8March,withthisflower-givingtraditionbymenasakindofcourtlygrave-markerfortheearlySovietUnion’sfeminism.

3 For chemicals were a vital sector at present: for the rapid build-up of the chemical industry, seeTheodore Shabad, Basic Industrial Resources of the USSR (New York: Columbia University Press,1969).

4‘Suppressedinflation’ora‘permanentsellers’market’:twolinkedphenomena,thoughthefirstchieflyaffected the Soviet Union’s perpetually low-priority consumer sector, and the second was true of thecherished industrial sector too. TheUSSR had ‘suppressed inflation’ in the sense that it had the classicconditionsforrunawayinflationinamarketeconomy,withfartoomuchmoneychasingfartoofewgoodstobuy–butinsistedonfixedpricesforthescarcegoods,thuspushingcompetitionforthemintonon-moneyforms. The ‘permanent seller’smarket’was the situation inwhich both individual consumers, andmoresignificantlywholeenterprises,weresodesperate tobeable tobuy that theywouldacceptwhatever thesellergavethem,almostirrespectiveofqualityorconvenience.

5Acrosstheherringboneparquetoftheeighteenthfloor:myvisualsenseoftheGosplanbuildingcomesfromCurtis,‘TheEngineer’sPlot’,butIhavenorealinformationaboutitsinternalgeography.

6Hehadbroughtitbackhimself,bytrainfromBerlin:alittlelaterhecould,ifhewereverylucky,havebought it fromapopularMoscowshowroomforEastGermangoods.Undercommunism,EastGermanycontinued tomanufactureoffice furniture to1920sand1930sdesigns,someof themratherstylish;and itwasunusualtoo,foranEasternBloccountry,inhavingasubstantialindustryproducingplastichomewares,whichwere held up as a sign of socialist rationality. See Eli Rubin, Synthetic Socialism: Plastics andDictatorshipintheGermanDemocraticRepublic(ChapelHillNC:UniversityofNorthCarolinaPress,2009). An equivalent to Galina in the GDR would not have been so impressed by the little beakers inSokolnikiPark.

7 Chemical-industry input coefficients: a planner’s tool giving standardised proportions of the inputsrequiredtoproduceaunitofagivenoutput,theideabeingthatallenterprisescouldbekeptuptoasetlevelofefficiencyby supplying themonlywith theappropriate levelofmaterials.Alsoknownas inputnorms.Forthepitfallsofthissystem,andthetendencyforthenormstoproliferateintoamassofexceptions,andrulesapplyingtoonefactoryonly,seeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

8 ‘That’s how the steelwas tempered,’ he said:Mokhov is alluding to the title ofNikolaiOstrovsky’sfamous socialist-realist novel How the Steel Was Tempered (1936), which had become a commoncatchphrase.ComputerprogrammersatAkademgorodokshouteditinAugust1960astheyfoughtwiththeconstructionworkerswhokeptturningofftheirpowersupply.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

9Thebalanceswerekeptinalong,library-likeroomlinedwithfilingcabinets:theindividualbalanceslookedasIdescribethemhere,andasapapersystemtheyworkedinthewayIdescribe,andtheymustcertainlyhavebeenkeptinfilingcabinetsinaroom(orrooms)inGosplan,butthisparticularroomIhaveinvented.TheSovietgorgonwithhairthecolourofdriedbloodisagenericgorgon,fromCentralCasting.

10A workspace where there was a convenient spare abacus: the most common calculating devicethroughout thehistoryofSovietRussia,andslightlydifferent inconstruction fromaChineseabacus.SeeWikipediafordescriptionandphotograph.

11373 folders,eachholdingwork-in-progresson thebalance foracommodity: the number of thesemost strategiccommodities, alsoknownas ‘fundedcommodities’,wasdiminishing inanattempt tomakethesystemmoremanageable.There’dbeen892ofthemin1957,and2,390in1953–butthedeletedoneswere presumably reappearing in the wider category of ‘planned commodities’, which didn’t need theirbalancessignedoffbytheCouncilofMinistersbutstillhadtobecalculatedbyGosplan.Whenthesewereincluded, Gosplan’s annual output of commodity allocations went up from c.4,000 typescript pages intwenty-twovolumes toc.11,500pages in seventyvolumes.Figuresall fromGertrudeE.Schroeder, ‘The“Reform”oftheSupplySysteminSovietIndustry’,SovietStudies,vol.24no.1,July1972,pp.97–119.

12AlittleproblemwithSolkemfib,theviscoseplantatSolovets:Solkemfibisaninventedadditiontothegenuineportfolioofnew-generationchemicalfibreplantsthatwereopeningintheSovietUnionintheearly1960s. I’vepickedupdetails forSolkemfibfromYe.Zhukovskii, ‘Building theSvetlogorskArtificalFiberPlant’,SovetskayaBelorussya,2December1962;translatedinUSSREconomicDevelopment,No.58:SovietChemicalIndustry,USDeptofCommerceJointPublicationsResearchService report18,411,28March1963,pp.17–20.ThetownofSolovets,ontheotherhand,isallusiveratherthanjustillusory.Therewasarealplaceofthatname,anislandintheWhiteSeawheresomeofthenastiestatrocitiesintheearlyhistoryoftheGulagtookplace.ThenamewasborrowedbyArkadyandBorisStrugatskyinthe1965novelMonday Begins on Saturday, to give a little unacknowledgeable satirical edge to the town off in thenorthernforestssomewherewheretheinstituteforstudyingmagicstands.AndI’veborroweditinturn,togivemyviscosefactoryafantastical(andslightlysinister)frame.

13 Really, it was only salt, sulphur and coal in, viscose out: exhaustive descriptions of the viscoseproduction process can be found on Wikipedia. Wood (pine/fir/larch/aspen) is boiled up with sodiumbisulphiteindigesterstogiveaspecialgradeofcellulosecalled‘dissolvingpulp’,whichis thensteepedinsodiumhydroxide (lye), squeezedout, crumbled, andaged in theoxygenof theair, beforebeingchurnedwiththeindustrialsolventcarbondisulphide.Thisgivesyoucellulosexanthate,whichischemicallyviscose,but not yet in usable form; so you dissolve it again in more sodium hydroxide, and squirt it throughspinnerets into a ‘spin bath’ of sulphuric acid,where the viscose liquid becomes filamentswhich can bestretched,wound,washed,bleached,rewashedanddriedasviscoseyarn.Thisistheformofviscosethatcanbewovenas‘rayon’or‘artsilk’,asinLeonidVitalevich’snecktieinpartIIchapter1.Squirtedthroughdifferentspinnerets,however,theliquidcanbecomeviscosetyrecordorevencellophane.Solkemfibisnotinthecellophanebusiness.Itclearlyhasonelinesetupforfabricandtheotherforcord.OfthethreebasicinputsMokhovmentions,youneedthesalttomakethelyeandthesodiumbisulphite,thesulphurtomakethe sodium bisulphite, the carbon disulphide and the sulphuric acid, and the coal to make the carbondisulphide.Simplethoughtheseinputsare,theywillstillhaveputtheSovietviscoseindustryincompetitionfor raw materials with soap-making, rubber-vulcanising, glue-manufacturing, ore-processing, petroleum-refining, steel-galvanising, brass-founding, metal-casting and fertiliser-producing. For an outline of thedifferentindustries’interconnectingneeds,seeShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

14Theoriginalshortfallleapingfromcommoditytocommodity:for theclassicanalysisof thereasonsfor inevitable, permanent shortage in ‘unreformed’ planned economies, see JanosKornai,Economics ofShortage,vol.A(Amsterdam/Oxford/NewYork,1980).Kornaipointsoutthat,aswellasthe‘vegetativeprocess’bywhichinsuchasystemeveryactorsensiblyoverstatestheirneeds,thesystem’sowninsistenceonperpetualgrowthensuresthatanygivensupplyofamaterial isgoingtobetoolittleforwhat itsusers

wouldwanttodowithit.15 In theory … you would need to revise all the balances a minimum of six times over, and a

maximumofthirteentimes:seetheveryclearexpositionofthetheory,andthepragmaticSovietwaysaroundit,inEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

16 It was the basis for Emil Shaidullin’s entertaining prediction: really a prediction by AbelAganbegyan,madein1964.

18ThePNSh-180-14scontinuous-actionengine forviscose: a realmachine, referred to in ‘ResultsoftheWorkoftheChemicalFibresIndustryfor1968’,FibreChemistryvol.1no.2,March–April1969,pp.117–20;translationofKhimicheskieVoloknano.2,March–April1969,pp.1–3.But Ihavenoevidencethatitwasyetinproductionin1963,andthetechnicalupgrade,thefigureof17fortheannualoutput,thenominationoftheUralmashmachine-buildingcombineasitsmanufacturer,thedescriptionofitasametalporcupineasbigasasubwayhallandtheideathatithaditsownbalanceatGosplanall,allcomestraightoutoftheconjurer’shatofinvention.

18Thepage in frontofhimwas simplicity itself: taken from themodel of a balance-page illustrated inLevine,‘TheCentralisedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’.

19Hewas supposed to get chemical-fibre production up to 400,000 tonnes per annum by 1965:targettakenfromShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

Prisoner’sDilemma,1963ThelightwasfadingasthetrainfromSolovetslefttheforestsbehind,andsnowsweptpastthewindowinbluishswathes.OutontheMoscowplain,factorywallsrosehiggledy-piggledy,firstafewandthenmoreandmore,unstoppably,as ifasorcerer’sapprenticehadbeenletloosetobuildindustryandhadjustkeptgoing,a coking plant here and a fractionating tower there, reduction gears here andsolvents there, tractors and rifles, lathes and electro-plate, steel and brass andzinc and cement, da da da da-da-da dadada, the countermanding spell neveruttered,untilthesamesightsrepeatedallthewayalongtherailroad;thesamedarkclusteredsilhouettesofchimneys, thesamegirderedrooflines, thesamegriddedwindows,thesamebranchingtracksofrustywagons,thesameblocksofworkers’flats, with the snow rushing through and between, thick and soft, smoothing toblankness the churned mud and ice from which so many pipes, stakes, poles,reinforcingrodsprotruded,onwhichsomanysacks,pallets,drums,bundleswerepiled.Thesnowrushedthrough,thetrainwhirledby.Arkhipovpulledthecurtainsclosedandturnedbacktothecompartment.‘Well,’hesaid,slappinghisknees,‘whowantsanotherdrink?’Theflaskswereout,andachunkofsweatinghamwrappedinnewspaper,anda

wholesausage,tobecarvedwithapenknife.Arkhipov,KosoyandMitrenko;theywereallgettingpleasantlysteamed,thereinthepricklyheatofthesoft-classcar.Mitrenko,ArkhipovandKosoy;threebigmen,tightlyfillingtheirskins,allinhighgoodhumour.ThetekhpromfinplanwasinArkhipov’sbriefcase,upintheluggagerack, and they were off to the fleshpots together for the annual jamboree.Mitrenko’swifeandKosoy’shadgiventheirmenshoppinglists,detailedplansofcampaigncallingforraidsonGUMandGastronomNo.1andModa.Arkhipov’sladywasalittletoohigh-minded,orabsent-minded,tomanagethatkindofthing;buthehadalreadyresolved thatwhentheyboarded the trainhomehewouldbewrestlinganewtop-of-the-lineradiogramupthestepsforher,withanarmfulofdiscs toplay.Theymightshopontheirownaccount too,whenthemeetingsandthe hand-shakingwere done.Late at night, in the bar of theUkraina, you couldmeetobligingprofessionalgirls,offeringthekindofentertainment insuchshort,suchlamentablyshortsupplyinSolovets,whereeveryonekneweveryone,andthehotel Icebound Sea faced across the town square in dismal competitionwith aclosed ice-cream kiosk, the household goods store and a teashop run by thefisheries trust. Oh, the sorrows of provincial life! But, till next Thursday, they

wereoutofit,andtheygrinnedateachother,KosoyandMitrenkoandArkhipov,theirmoodsbuoyedup,asifbythousandsoflittlebubbles,withtheknowledgeofboldnessrewarded.Thistimelastyear,howdismaltheyhadbeen.Solkemfib,thethreeofthemhad

understood by then,was a career-killer. For awhile they had been able to kidthemselves that therewas something else to try, but now the truth had sunk in.Ahead of them lay the ignominious destiny of the failed executive. Firstwouldcomethereprimandsandthecensures,thenthenewspaperarticleinthatspecialvoice of wide-eyed sarcasm. ‘Why has Director Arkhipov failed to fulfill hissocialist pledges? His attitude can hardly be termed commendable. We askedChief Accountant Kosoy to enlighten us, but he proved tongue-tied. Chief-of-PlanningMitrenkowasnomorehelpful…’Doorswouldslamshutwhenevertheyneededtheslightestfavour,supplierswouldsneerandshitonthemwithimpunity,making things so humiliating and disagreeable that it would almost be amercywhen the final blow fell, and they were banished to run fertiliser sales inButtfuckistan.Maddening, thatwas theword for it;maddening that thepath to career death

wasseparatedbyonlya fewpercentagepointsofplanfulfilment fromtheotherone, theupwardpath, the road togloryand local fame,where thepressprintedphotosofyoulookingresolute,andtheregionalsecretarypinnedtheRedBannerto your lapelwhile the hall applauded, and the bonuses swelled. Thatwas theincentive, of course; that waswhy the bonuseswere highly geared, so that thedifferencetoamanagerbetweenhitting99%oftheplantargetandhitting103%wasnotanextra4%onthesalary,butmorelike40%.Theywantedyourwholeattention on pushing the plant to do that little bitmore thatmade the differencebetweenfailureandsuccess.Hencetheutterimportanceofplanbargaining;hencethe necessity, in normal times, of low-balling your first production estimate, sothatthesovnarkhoz’sreflexiveupwardcorrectionwouldputthetargetbackinthebandyouhadprivatelycalculatedwasachievable.Thesovnarkhoz, needless tosay,knewwhatyouweredoing,knewthefirstestimatewasalwaysgoingtobedeceptive. The trick was to make the deception seem transparent, thus gentlyflattering themin theirsense that theyknewwhatwasreallygoingon. It shouldseemtobeofferingthemahintaboutwhereyouthoughtthetruefigureoughttolie.Then they’d go a couple of points up on your implicit suggestion, and feel likewinners if youwent alongwith it; which youwould, after a certain amount ofnominal shrieking and groaning, because you’d been low-balling the impliedsuggestiontoo.Thegameplayvaried,dependingonwho,exactly,youwerefacingoffwiththisyear.Youmighthavetogetsubtler,orgetcruder;youmighthavetodo somethingunexpected, if you found things had settled into a rutwhichmade

your moves too easy to predict. But the game went on, within bounds roughlyagreedbetweentheplayers.Withgoodluck,you’dhaveacomfortableyear,withbadluckyou’dhaveanuncomfortableone.Yououghtnot tohaveanimpossibleyear.Butwhatifyoufoundyourselfstuck–fixed–nailedtothefuckingfloor–on

thewrong side of the hair-thin line between glory and ignominy?What if yourprivateknowledgeofyourplant’s truecapacity toldyouthatyouhadaproblembeyond the scopeof thegame?Solkemfibwasnew,but itwasnot thatnew;bynow, its managers were intimately clear about what they could and could notexpectfromthelovelynewmachinery.Theviscoseyarnlineworkedfine,thetyrecordline…didnot.Orrather,itworked,andthewormlikefilamentsofviscosewerestretchedandstrengthenedas requiredas theyweredrawnoutof theacidbaths,and ledaway tobewashedanddriedandcoiledontowall-high racksofhumming bobbins: but too slowly, altogether too slowly for Solkemfib’s PNSh-180-14Stosatisfyanyplanfortyrecordtheymightbeabletobargainoutofthesovnarkhoz.Thesovnarkhozwouldbaseitsreasoningonthepaperratingforthemachine’scapacity,and thepaper ratingwassimply toohigh,byanamount thataddeduptoseveralhundredtonnesoftyrecordoverayear.Itmightbethattherewas some kind of defect in their particular machine, though the mechanicalengineerPonomarevhadclimbedalloveritlooking,ingeniouslittlegoblinthathewas,andnotfoundanything;oritmightbethatthewholeclassofmachineshadbeen optimisticallymisrated by Uralmash. There was no way of knowing. Forobviousreasons,itwasn’tpossibletocontactanotherviscoseplantandcomparenotes.Thatwouldhaverevealedthedisastrousweaknessoftheirhand,atapointwhereoneoftheirfewadvantageswastheirabilitytokeepthingsdark.Sothey’dbeenlow,thistimelastyear,quietandmoroseontheMoscowtrain,

alltooawarethattheirstopgapanswer,thebesttheycoulddo,wasnoansweratall,really.They’dhitthegrosstargetfortheyear1962deadon,100%deliveredof the 14,100 tonnes of viscose planned, only with the mix of productiondeliberatelyskewedtowardsplainordinaryclothingyarnoffLineNo.1.Whoops,so sorry, slight technical difficulties with No. 2, now resolved. In othercircumstancesyoucouldrunforyears turningout thewrongassortmentmix,butnot this way around,when youwere pleasing your consumer-facing customers,whohadnocloutatall,andpissingofftheindustrialones,whocouldshoutgoodandloudwhentheirtyremachineshadtopowerdownforlackofcordtomouldthe rubber to. No doubt it was nice that Mayak and the other Moscow textileoutfits were happy with their Solkemfib yarn, woven into rayon scarves andnecktiesetc.etc.;butArkhipov,MitrenkoandKosoywouldhavecheerfullyseenthemstrugglingtosewsocksoutofspoiledstockiftheyhadbeenabletokeepthe

auto combines smiling instead. Anything else would have been flat contrary tocommonsense.Asitwas,theyknewthattheyhaddrawnonaverylimitedsupplyof indulgence, on theplanners’part; and theplan theyhadhad to agree for thisyear had committed them to output from No. 2 that they were never going toachieve,nomatterhowmanycornerstheycut.TheycouldleanonPonomarevalltheylikedtooverclockthemachines,theycould‘storm’nightafternight.Stillthechickenswerecominghometoroost.Andthethingofitwas,themostmaddeningpartofthewholeclusterfuckwas,

that a simple technical fix existed. Uralmash now produced, apparently, anupgraded PNSh-180-14S which, even allowing for the righteous scepticismrecentlyimplantedinthebreastsofKosoy,MitrenkoandArkhipov,oughttomakethefulfilmentofpresentplansabreeze.ButSolkemfibhadaplant fullofshiny,virtuallymint equipment. Solkemfibwould be so far to the back of the priorityline in getting the upgrade that it would probably be two decades before theplanners decided itwas replacement time for the career-killing piece of shit inSpinningandStretchingShopNo.2.Thereseemedtobenowayofgettingfromwheretheyweretowheretheyneededtobe;tothesolutionhoveringjustoutofreach.Noway, at any rate,within the termsof the planninggame as theywereusedtoplayingit,withtheusuallevelofriskandtheusualleveloffiddling,andthe usual understanding between themselves and the sovnarkhoz over what thesovnarkhozwouldn’tdigtoodeepinto,aslongastheviscosekeptflowing.Perhaps having to lie blandly inMoscow, last year, had encouraged creative

thought.Maybetherehadbeensomethingaboutsittinginthesovnarkhozoffices,andmakingpromisestheyhadnoideahowtofulfil,whichshookinspirationlooseinthem.Becauseithadbeenafterthatdismaljourneythattheybegantoseewhattheyhadtodo,whatabarefaceddefectionfromtheusualunderstandingwasgoingtoberequiredtosortthisoneout.Whatwouldbeneededwasamoveinthegamesooutrageousthattheplannerswouldnotrecogniseitasamoveatall.Theyfoundithard tobelievewhat theywereplanning,at first.Certainly, theywouldneverevenhaveconsideredit,intheolddays;andevennow,theyscarcelynameditoutloudtoeachother.Andyettheyunderstoodeachotherverywell.Which of them first thought of Ponomarev? Themechanical engineer’s name

cameup,thatwasall,duringoneofthenightlycardgamesatArkhipov’splace,whilethethreeofthemwereobsessivelychewingthesituationover,andoverandover; and then,when he had been raised tomind, all three of them at the tableunderthehanginglamphadslowlysmiled,allseeingthepossibilities,all likingwhat they saw. Ponomarev was a funny fellow, a grizzled little creature withprotruding eyes and skin so pale you could see the forked blue veins in histemples.‘ArealSiberiantan,’saidMitrenkoknowledgeably.Hehadbeenuseful

enoughalready,asanengineer.Itwashardtogetqualifiedstaff torelocatetoaholelikeSolovets,letalonetotoleratethesignaturestinkoftheviscoseprocess,nowthatMrK.hadremovedmostoftherestrictionsonworkers’mobility;soithad seemed like straightforward good luck when Arkhipov ran into him at achemical-fibre conference inAlmaty anddiscovered inhim somebodywho, forhisownparticularreasons,waswilling,eveneager,toendurethenorthernforest.Not that Ponomarevwas attending the conference.Hewas repairing the hotel’slift, and he happened to be there when Arkhipov, making a note of something,pulledouthisfountainpenandfoundthatithadleaked.‘Icanfixthatforyou,’hesaid. ‘It’ll be the reservoir.’ ‘What, you’re a pen expert?’ saidArkhipov. ‘Anylittlething,’saidPonomarev.Andheheldouthishand.‘HowdoIknowyouwon’trunoffwithit?’Arkhipovasked.‘Thisisagoodpen.’Ponomarevshrugged.Thepenwaswaitingatthefrontdesknextmorning,neatlymendedwithalittlepieceof rubber tubing fromaneyedropper.WhenArkhipov, curious, askedquestions,and found that the handymanwasmore than a handyman,was in fact a trainedengineer,andin therightspecialismtoo,Ponomarevexplainedhissituationinavoiceofextraordinary,colourlessneutrality.IftheComradeDirectorwantedhim,he would endeavour to justify the Comrade Director’s trust; but the ComradeDirectorwould need to sponsor him for residence inEuropeanRussia.He hadbeenimprisoned,butwasnowreleased;hehadbeenundersentenceofindefiniteadministrativeexile,butwasnowfreetotravel, ifheweregivensomewheretotravelto.Fromwherehewasstanding,lostinthedustofCentralAsia,Solovetswas virtually on Moscow’s doorstep. It was a step almost all the way home.Arkhipovmadeenquiries,foundnoobstacles,andbroughtPonomarevbacktousehissurprisinglyillustriouseducationforSolkemfib’sbenefit.Thegoblinwasasgoodashisword.Heworkedwithsilentzealandmadeno

complaints,whatevershiftshewasassigned.Buthewasnotpopular.Hespokeinclipped,telegraphicstyle,spendingasfewwordsaspossibleoneachutterance.Hehadawayofmeetingtheeyeofthepersonhewastalkingtothewholetimetheconversation lasted, unremittingly, as if he scorned to do otherwise. He livedalone in a hostel room. ‘Shacked up with a slide rule,’ said Kosoy. He neverjoked, he never smiled. Hewas never seen to take a drink. For recreation, hewrotelonglettersandpostedthem.Themostanimatedyoumightseehimwasonthenights justbefore thequarters ended,whenNo.1andNo.2were storming.Then,wheneverycause that stopped the linesorcramped their speedhadbeenpushed,somehow,tooneside,andthedigesterswereshakingastheychurnedthecellulosecrumbswithcarbondisulphide,andtheairwasthickwiththesmellofputrefiedcabbage,andthelineswerequiveringend-to-endwithworkbeingdone–then,Ponomarevquiveredtoo,andpattedthesurfacesofthemachineswithhis

fingertips.‘Won’thehaveourballsinavice,afterward?’saidMitrenko.‘Who’sgoingtobelievehim?’saidKosoy.‘Who’dtakehiswordoverours?’saidArkhipov.Infactwhentheytoldhimwhathehadtodo,ifhewantedtokeephisresidence

permit,hesaidnothingatall.Heonlygazedfromfacetoface.Thenhetookhisgoodtimetoact.Infact,heplayeditbloodyclosetothelimit.They’dbackdatedsomuchproductiononNo.2topadouttheearlierquarters’figures–someofQ2assigned to Q1, more of Q3 asssigned to Q2, all of Q4’s production so farassignedtoQ3–thattherewasverylittlemarginleft;No.2hadtogodownsoon.Arkhipovwasmorerelieved thanhecouldrememberbeingsince thewarwhentheemergencyklaxonswokehiminthemiddleofthenightandhecouldgooffinovercoatandfurhattotourthecarnagePonomarevhadcontrived,gravelyshakinghishead.Givethelittlefuckerhisdue,hehaddoneabeautifuljob,‘preparedindepth’as theyused tosayofbattleplans.Andheconductedhimself through theinvestigation that followed as if he had ice water in his veins, and it was thefurthest thought from his mind that he was basically staked out in front of theSolkemfibadministrationbuilding,waiting tobegrabbed,quickandeasy, if thewordcamedownfromabovethataculpritwasrequired.ButMoscow,itturnedout,didnotrequireaculprit.Moscowscowled,anddispensedhappyendingsallround.Anattachmentorderarrived,entitlingtheSolovetsChemicalFibreTrusttotake emergency delivery of one Uralmash PNSh-180-14S (upgrade model).Ponomarev could slink back to his hostel room, and Arkhipov, Mitrenko andKosoycouldclimbaboard theexpress,knowing thatoneyearof reducedbonuslayaheadofthem,ratherthanunlimitedignominy.‘Now lookwhat I’vegot here,’ saidArkhipov, reaching intohis suit pockets

like a meaty-fingered magician. ‘Gentlemen, take a look at these. C’mon,Mitrenko,leavethekidalone.’Mitrenkohadthedoorintothecorridoropen.Hewasbaitingayoungsoldier

tryingtogetby.‘Pleasemoveyourleg,mister,’saidtheboy.‘Suckmycock,’remarkedMitrenko,pleasantly.‘Getoutoftheway!’‘Orwhat?’‘Getoutoftheway!’‘Orwhat?’‘Getoutoftheway,youoldfart!’‘Ooh!’saidMitrenko,andblewin theboy’s face. Inaminute, theboywould

loseitandtakeaswipe;thenthemilitiameninthenextcompartmentwouldrise

up,takethesideofauthorityagainstyouth,and,delightfully,slinghimoffthetrainatthelaststopbeforeMoscow,wherehecouldexpecttospendthenightshiveringontheplatform,thisbeingthelastinboundservice.‘Come on,’ said Arkhipov. ‘Never mind that.’ He was holding up three fat

cigars.‘RemembertheCubandelegation?’Mitrenkoslammedthecompartmentdoorinthekid’sfaceandreachedforhis

stogie.Theysmelledofdrybrownsummerfaraway,withatickleofspices.HeandKosoyandArkhipovbit theendsoffand took turns todrawat the flameofKosoy’ssteel lighter, tonguescurled.Suck-suck-suck.Andblow. ‘Here’s tous,’said Arkhipov. In the rattling heat of the compartment the rich smoke rose inspirals,blueasthewildsnowoutsidewherethesorcerer’sapprenticerampaged.BackatSolovets,thesnowhadbarelybegun.Onlythefirstdottingofpowdered

diamond hung in the cones of the arc-lightswhere Ponomarevwaswalking, indark, inlight, indark, inlight,upthecinderroadpast thelumberstacksandthemouldingshop,upthehilloverlookingthepoisonedlake,tothedirector’shousewhereMrsArkhipovwaswaiting for him,with her pink nose and her nervoushands. He was carrying sheet music for a piano duet. He, too, had decided todefectfromtheusualrulesofthegame.

Notes–IV.2Prisoner’sDilemma,1963

1They were off to the fleshpots together for the annual jamboree: the festive jaunt to Moscow todeliver the plan, and a lot of the rest of the behaviour of Solkemfib’smanagement, comes from JosephBerliner,FactoryandManagerintheUSSR(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,1957).Seealso,bythesameauthor,‘InformalOrganizationoftheSovietFirm’,QuarterlyJournalofEconomics,August1952,pp.342–65;The InnovationDecision inSoviet Industry (Boston:MITPress, 1976); andSovietIndustry from Stalin to Gorbachev: Essays on Management and Innovation (Ithaca NY: CornellUniversityPress,1988).AnarchetypalSovietmanagerisamongthesemi-fictional‘portraits’inRaymondA.Bauer,NineSovietPortraits(Boston:MITPress,1965).

2ThehotelIceboundSeafacedacrossthetownsquare:fromthehoteltothefisheries-trustteashop,alldetailsfaithfullyreflecttheStrugatskys’versionofthetownofSolovets.

3They’dhit thegross target for theyear1962deadon, 100%deliveredof the14,100 tonnesofviscoseplanned:atargetfigureforSolkemfibconcoctedbycalculatingtheaverageplannedoutputforarealSovietviscoseplantin1962fromShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

4Allseeing thepossibilities ,all likingwhattheysaw: I amprobablyanticipating the shamelessnessofmanagerialbehaviourinthelater1970sand1980sbymakingArkhipov,MitrenkoandKosoybewillingtocountenanceanactualactofsabotage.ItprobablytooklongerthanthisforthefearfulrestraintoftheStalintimetocomeapart.Butthiswasthedirectioninwhichthingsweregoing,soagain,arealprocesshasbeenforeshortenedhere.For an illuminatingdiscussionof late-Sovietmanagerial gamesmanship, seeYevgenyKuznetsov, ‘Learning inNetworks: EnterpriseBehaviour in the Former SovietUnion andContemporaryRussia’,inJoanM.Nelson,CharlesTilleyandLeeWalker,eds,TransformingPost-CommunistPoliticalEconomies(WashingtonDC:NationalAcademyPress,1997).

5Letalonetotoleratethesignaturestinkoftheviscoseprocess:causedbythebreakdownofdensequantities of carbon disulphide in the plants’ air, into even fouller-smelling carbonyl sulphide. Rottingcabbagewastheusualcomparison.

6 He had been imprisoned, but was now released: for the situation of ex-political prisoners, see

Solzhenitsyn,GulagArchipelagovol.3partVI,‘Exile’,pp.335–468.Havingthedecreeofexilelifteddidnotautomaticallyrestoreone’soriginalresidencerights.Foratreatmentinfictionofaprisoner’sunsettlingreappearanceamongthecomfortableandprosperous,seeVasilyGrossman,ForeverFlowing, translatedbyThomasP.Whitney(NewYork:Harper&Row,1972).

Favours,1964Toreadorpantswerehard to comebyon the eastern slopeof theUrals, and soChekuskinwaswearing his suit trousers,with a plum-coloured shirt: butwhenSeñoraLopezbegantopoundoutthepasodobleonthePalaceofCulture’spiano,hecockedhishipandhewasoffwiththerestof theclass,smallfeetstomping.Over the ridgewhere the floor heaved up they danced, over the other side anddown to the level again. Darrarrum, darrarrum, darrarrum said the piano.Somewhere farbelowoneof themineswormholing the earthunderSverdlovskhadgivenway,and thebuildingson thesurface justherehadallbeenstretchedandcreasedinunpredictableways.Theclasswereusedtoit;theyroseupoverthebulgelikeawaveofthesea.Darrarrumdarrarrumdarrarrum.Chekuskin spunneatly, head tilted back, and

gildedmirrors flew across his field of vision,with ochre plasterwork, and theteacher’sravagedfaceatthepiano.Itmustbestrangeforher,hethought,tobesofarfromhome,arealSpaniardmaroonedhere,inacrudecoldsteeltownbeyondthe bounds of Europe. He had pieced together a little of her story: husband arefugee from the Fascists in Spain, husband meeting the usual fate of mouthyforeigncommunistsnottoolongafter;thendeportationeast,aquarterofacenturyofmusicteaching,thePalaceofCulturepiano.Hepiecedtogetherallstories,ifhecould.Itwashisbusinesstodoso,hemadehislivingsnappingupthesetrifles.Nottopassjudgement;totrytoseewhat,ineachcase,mightbethequickestwaytosympathywiththatperson,andwhattheymighthaveandwhattheymightneedin this life. Even the most unpromising individual might turn out to possess,unknown to themselves, the key to some stranger’s dilemma. In Chekuskin’sexperience it was never wasted time tomake a new friend. Señora Lopez, forexample,knewhimasagentlemanly,assiduousregular,alittlecomicalbyreasonofhisheightbuta trueaficionadoof theLatin style.Shewouldnot refuse ifhebroughther–tentatively,withaproperdiffidence–arequestforSpanishlessonsfromaladyheknewwhosehusbandwassoontobepostedtotheCaribbean.Asithappened,heknew,atthemoment,ofnosuchperson.Buthemightdotomorrow,or nextweek, or next year, and there in his stock-in-trade now sat the Spanishlanguage,waitingtobeexchangedforsomethingelseentirely,andforthatmattertoothetango,therumbaandthecha-cha-cha.Chekuskin’ssmallfeetflew.Afterward,hetowelledhisheaddryandchangedbackintohiseverydayshirt,

putting thepurple one in his almost emptybriefcase.A touchof pomadeonhis

greyhair;tie,jacket,coat,scarf,gloves,furhat,andoutontotheJanuarystreet.Itwasbitterlycold,withlastnight’ssnowdrifteddeepagainstthebuildingsandtheweightofmorebellyingdown the leaden sky.But the citywas atwork.Smokeshovelleditselfoutfromchimneystacks,aburlycacophonyshoulderedasidethesnow-hush.The air tastedbrackish as itwarmedonhis tongue.Traffic steadilychurnedonwardtowardsthecream-and-rustvanishingpointswherethehorizonsate the straight street, and pedestrians tramped head down along the flattenedstripsinthecentreofthesidewalks.NoonewaslookingatChekuskin,buteveniftheyhadbeen,therewasnothingworthrememberingabouthim.Hisfacewasanobligingoval.Hemusthavehadeyes,andanose,andmouth,butthemomentyouturnedawayfromhim,thedetailsbegantoslipyourmind.‘Helookedlike–’youmightsaytosomeone,andthenpause,stumped.Whatdidhelooklike?Alongwiththebrightshirthaddisappearedhisonlydistinctiveness.Hewasshort, thatwastrue,veryshort;butapartfromthat,helookedasmuchaspossiblelikeeveryoneelse. His suit was neither particularly old nor particularly new, neither aparticularlygoodfitnoraparticularlybadone,althoughthetailorwhomadeitforhimwouldhavebeengladtocutitanywayhechose.Helookedlikealibrarianashejoinedthecrowdwaitingatthestreetcarstop;orateacher,oraclerk.Oneoftheworld’snondescripts.Acrosstheway,twomenwithladdershadstrippedHAPPY NEW YEAR off a billboard and were pasting up its successor insections. Gradually, a moustached fellow of improbable brawn appeared, inoveralls,holdingouthisbigbarearmsforahug.AMANTOAMAN,saidtheposter,ISAFRIEND,COMRADEANDBROTHER.Hattedandmufflered,bluein thecheeks,breathingoutcloudsofsteam, thecrowdgazedbackimpassively;Chekuskintoo.Hegotoff thestreetcarat thecentralpostoffice.Under theclangorousdome,

therewere lines for thecountersand lines for the rowofphonebooths.Mildly,courteously,he ignored themall,andas ifhehadaperfect right, interrupted thetransactioninprogressatthethirdwindowalongbyleaningforwardwithoneofthefewitemsinthebriefcasepresentedinhisoutstretchedhand:alittlebunchofviolets.‘MrChekuskin!’saidthewomanserving,andbeamedathim.‘Wait!’shesaidtothecustomer,turningoffthesmileasifithadneverbeen.Sheslidoffherstool, and rummagedon the shelvesbehindher. ‘Hereweare.Your letters, andone–two–threetelegramstoday.I’llbringthemaround.’Chekuskinbowed,andmovedtothedoorattheendofthecountertomeether.Sheledthewayacrossthemain floor to the telephones and unlocked the varnished door of the last boothwithakeyfromabunchasbigasaprisonwarder’s.Ceremoniously,sheremovedtheOUTOFORDERsign thathadbeen threaded through thedoorhandles; shepattedtheseatinsidewitharapidlittleto-and-fromotionasifdustingitforhim.

‘There,’shesaid,handinghimhismail.‘Areyoubetter?’‘Oh,Ican’tcomplain,’hesaid.‘Afewsniffles,but it’s theseason, isn’t it?Andyourself?’‘Thesame,’shesaid,‘awfulaching.Isupposeyoudidn’t–’‘Doyouknow,’hesaid,‘Idid?Ispoke to the friend I mentioned, and he said you should certainly consult aspecialist.Itookthelibertyofwritingdownthenameandaddressoftheladyhesuggested.She’sverygood,apparently;veryunderstanding.’Andhepassedovera slip of folded paper, which went straight into a skirt pocket. ‘I really can’timagine’,shesaid,‘howyoumanagetofindflowersinJanuary.’‘Mysecret,’hesaid.Intheboothheorganisedhimself.Stackoften-kopeckpiecesontheshelf,case

onhiskneestoserveasadesk.Thedooropenedagainacrack,andaglassoftea,steaming, appeared at his elbow, in a tin holder ornamented with flowers andcosmonauts. Bless her. And so to work. He slit envelopes. Numbers he wrotedowninpencilinhisnotebook,butwords,andespeciallynames,hepreferredtoremember. He had an excellent memory, developed over the years until itresembledtheinteriorequivalentofawholecardindex,anditwasinhere,onthephantomsoffilecardsthatnoonecouldreadbuthim,thathestoredhistruestock-in-trade,hisever-expandingcontactslist,withoutwhichthepencilledfigures,hetrusted,wouldmeanverylittleindeed.Hisclientspaidhimtosolveproblems,nottocreate them.Today,sixof thefifteenfirmsherepresentedhadsentmessages,though a couple of themwere only expressions of anxiety, reiterated statementsthat theyweredependingonhimfor the timelydespatchof this itemor that.Hecouldn’t blame them. Theywere only acting in accordance with his own greatprinciple that, when you need something from someone, you should never quittheirconsciousness,youshouldalwaysmakesuretobethereontheedgeoftheirattention,pleasantlymaintainingtheneedtodealwithyouandyourrequest,soon;andhewas thepersonwhomhis firmscouldbother.Rapidly,hebuilta runningorderfortheday’scalls.‘Hello,Chekuskinhere.Yep,colderthanawitch’stit,isn’tit?Listen,aboutthat

sand…’‘Hello,isthatMasha?Didtheticketsarrive?Theydid?I’msoglad.Yes,one

of his best performances I think; real magnetism. Oh now, sweetheart, as if Iwouldeverwantanythinginreturn.Ohyoucynic.Godpreserveusfromcynics.Shameonyou.Weell,thereisjustonething…’‘Hello, may I please speak to Deputy Director Sorov? My name is

E.M.Chekuskin,representingthesurgicalequipmentdivisionofOdessaSawsandCutlery,wehaveanorderinwithyouforGrade12low-carbonsteelbillets,andwehave a suggestion tomake about the delivery schedulewhichwe thinkwillconsiderablyeasethingsforyouinthefirstquarter.Yes,I’llhold…’

‘Chekuskin.Whereare thevehicles,Andrei?Whereare thebloodyvehicles?We’retryingtobegoodguysaboutthis,we’veworkedwithyoualongtimeandyou knowwe’re reasonable people, but you need to understand the shit you’regettingintohere,youreallydo…’‘Youdon’tknowme,sir,butSecretaryBelaevrecommendedmetogetintouch.

He’sverywell,sir;hesendshisgreetingsandhiscongratulations,sir.Now,thereasonI’mcalling…’‘Goodmorning,angel-face.IsHimselfin?No?Welldon’tbesorry;that’sgood

news.Becauseitgivesmeachancetotalktoyou,ofcourse…’‘Morning!Yes,Chekuskin again.On the phone and in your face every day, I

promise,tillyoureleaseourshipment.Buthere’sthedeal.EverytimeIringup,I’mgoingtotellyouajokeIguaranteeyouhaven’theardbefore.Don’tgroan,I’mveryfunny.Andifyouwanttocutthechucklesshort,youknowwhatyouhavetodo,don’tyou?Allright:aflyingsaucerswoopsdownovertheearthandgrabsaRussian,aGermanandaFrenchman…’Andsoon,andsoforth.LeavingonlythetelegramfromSolkemfib,whoought

tobeinastateofcalmcontentment,becausehe’djustfoundthematrainloadofironpyritestosolvetheirsulphurshortfall,butwhowerenotcalm,distinctlynotcalmatall.Chekuskinrubbedhis throat,coughed,suckedapeppermint lozenge.Hekeptapacketofpapiroshki inonepocketandapackoffilter-tippedJavainthe other, for offering to people, but almost alone among his acquaintance, hedidn’tsmoke;hefounditmadehisvoicephlegmyandunappealing.URALMASHDECLINES SUPPLY UPGRADED STRETCHER STOP URGENTEST SEEKEXPLANATION COMMA REMEDY STOP ARKHIPOV. This would be thePNSh-something-or-otherstretchingmachinetheyweregettingtoreplacetheonelostintheiraccident;abig,bigitemforwhosetransportationawayofftocheerySolovetshehadalreadybeguntospinafewideas.Uralmashwerenotpleasedtohavehaditaddedto theirquotaat thelastmoment,but thiswasthefirsthehadheard of any trouble getting it built. There ought not to be, given the priorityrankingthejobhadbeengiven.Chekuskinconsidered.Especially,heconsideredthewordDECLINES,anditsworryingfinality.Ithadthesoundofpolicyaboutit.Therewereimplicationsforwhoheshouldcall.NopointinstartingtoofardowntheUralmashhierarchy,ifadecisionofsomekindhadalreadybeentakenatthetop.Nopointintalkingtoasecretaryoraforemanonthisone.Ontheotherhand,tillhecouldworkoutwhatwasgoingon,heshouldalsoavoidspeakingtoanyonesoseniorthattheymighthaveprestigeatstake.Nothingsolidifiedaproblemlikemakingsomegrandeefeelthatthey’dhavetoeatdirttochangetheirmind.Whatheneededherewas thebottomof the top, someonewitha juniorpost in seniormanagement.Riffle rifflewent the invisible card index.Ah yes,Ryszard: early

forties, Pole from the Ukraine, wife religious, lots of children. Pleasant chap.Drinkingproblem.Probablynotdestinedtorise.Chekuskinputthecoinintheslotanddialled.‘Ryszard, yes, hello?’ Harried-sounding voice; a man in the middle of

something.‘Chekuskinhere.Sorrytobotheryou–’‘Ican’treallytalk.Laterwouldbebetter.’‘Ofcourse,ofcourse,wheneveryoucan.Maybeadrinkthisevening?’‘Idon’tknow.I’veafamilydo.God,thisistheSolkemfibthing,isn’tit?’‘Well,yes.There’ssomepuzzlementatthisend–’‘I’m sorry,Chekuskin, but really, that’sone to leave alone.No joy tobehad

there.Andhonestly, that’s all I can say.Your friendswill just have tomakedowiththeoldmodel.They’reluckywecanfittheminatall.’‘Waitaminute,waitaminute.You’resaying,theirorderisgoingthrough,then,

buttheycan’thavetheupgradedversion?’‘Uh,yes.Therereallyissomepuzzlementoverthere,isn’tthere?’‘Actually,Ithinkit’smine.I’veonlyjustbeenbroughtintothis,andI’msorry,I

think I got the wrong end of the stick. Look, if you could spare a minute thisevening to clear things up a bit, I’d take it as a personal favour. Just to getmeorientedalittle.’‘Oh, I don’t know, Chekuskin. Like I said, I shouldn’t be running mymouth

aboutitatall.’‘Justfiveminutes,strictlyofftherecord.Tostopmemakingafoolofmyself.’‘Well–’‘Sayatthestationbar,atsix.Soit’sonyourwayhomeanyway.’‘Itwouldhavetobeaveryquickone.’‘Asquickasyoulike.That’swonderful,that’sallIask.Seeyoulater!’Andheputthephonedown,quick-sharp.Lookingathiswatch,Chekuskinfound

thathewasalmost indangerofbeing late forhis lunchappointment.Hastilyhegathered his paperwork and exited, aiming a bow of general-purpose gratitudeacrossthehallbeforehepushedbackoutintothecold.Thelettersandtelegramswentintoatrash-canfirebeingtendedbyacoupleofdrinkersatthecornerofthenextblock.Round thecornerhe trotted, steppinghighwhere the snowwas lesstrampled,andovertheintersectiontothebigporticooftheCentralHotel.Puffsofbreathhungintheairwherehe’dpassedasifadiminutivesteamlocomotivehadgoneby.‘Ismyguesthere?’heaskedViktoratthefrontdesk.Viktorpointedthroughthe

bronze doors into the restaurant, where pale snow-light from the tall windowsmade the dusty napery on the tables look as if it had congealed in place. The

Central’s restaurant had hardly any custom at lunchtime – and indeed the staffwouldhaveresentedservinganyonewhosimplywanderedinandsatdown–butthecombinationofgrandeurandprivacyseemed toChekuskin tostrike therightnotewhenhewasmeetingaclientforthefirsttime.Hehurriedin,armsheldout,then paused, because the fidgetingman in his early thirties whowas sitting asuncomfortablybolt-upright at a table as ifhehad ironwork insidehis shirt, andpolishing his eyeglasses on the tablecloth, was not at all what he had beenexpecting.‘MrKonev?’saidChekuskin,uncertainly,feelingacertainwaveringinhislegs,

asiftheywereanticipatingasuddenneedtoflee.‘No. I’m Stepovoi. His deputy. He’s ill,’ said the man in a succession of

nervousbleats.‘Wellthen,’saidChekuskin,recoveringhimself,andsittingdown,‘you’revery

welcome,MrStepovoi.Nothingtooserious,Ihope,MrKonev’sillness?’‘Justflu.Buthehasgivenme.Fullauthority.’‘Good,good,’saidChekuskin.‘Whataday,eh?Coldenoughtoturnyourspitto

icicles.’Hewouldhavesaidpissnotspitbuthesuspected itwouldhavemadeStepovoiblush.‘Ican’tsay.ThatIamverycomfortable,Withthesituation.ThatI.Altogether

approve.’‘Mr Stepovoi,’ said Chekuskin, steepling his fingers and looking at this

alarmingfoolwithcarefulwarmth,‘Ibelieveyouareunderamisapprehension.Ibelieveyouthinkyouarespeakingtosomekindofa…ofablackmarketeer. Ifthat were the case, you would be right to be alarmed, because you would becommittingan illegalactbydoingbusinesswithme. In fact,youwouldalreadyhaveenteredintoacriminalconspiracyjustbysittingdownwithmehere.’Thinkaboutthat,youself-righteouslittlefucker.‘Butofcourse,nothingcouldbefurtherfromthetruth.Inaminute,youwillseethat,becauseIwillexplainittoyou,andthenwewill laugh over themisunderstanding together.Andwewill also havelunch, because I don’t know about you, but I am starving.’ Without looking,Chekuskinraisedafingerintheairandcircleditnearhisrightear,whichwasallthesignalheneededtoactivatetheCentral’ssolitarylunchtimewaiterandcook.‘What do I do.MrStepovoi? I ama servant of thePlan, that’swhat. Imake

what’ssupposedtohappen,happen.Youcancallmeapurchasingagent,youcancallmeanexpediter,youcanbecrudeandcallmeapusher.It’sallthesamething.IhelpthingsalonginthedirectionthePlansaystheyshouldbegoing.Idon’tsteal.Idon’tgivebribesortakebribes.Ipersuadethewheelstogoround.That’sall.Here,haveaglassofwine,it’snotbad,it’sAzerbaijani.’‘Idon’tusuallydrinkalcohol.Soearly,’bleatedStepovoi.

‘Of courseyoudon’t.You’re at yourdesk,youwant to concentrate.Butnowyou’re not at your desk, you’re travelling on business for the firm, and you’reinterviewing someonewho is going to be very useful to you, believeme. So alittlesipwon’thurt.There.Cheers.’‘But,’saidStepovoi.‘Butif.ButifyouonlydowhatthePlansays.ThenIdon’t

seewhatwe’regoingtopayyoufor.Wehavethepurchaseorders.Theyhavetogiveusthegoods.’‘You’reright,you’requiteright.Indeedtheydohavetogiveyouthegoods.But

when, that’s thequestion, isn’t it?Youwant themnow,tootsweet,becauseyourlineiswaiting;butwhyshouldtheycare?They’vegotawholefistfulofpurchaseorderstofill,thistimeofyear,andwhyshouldtheycareaboutyours?Whatmakesyou so special that they should want to serve you first, or at least, serve yousoon?’‘Youdo?’saidStepovoi.‘Correct,oldson.Butthere’salittlemoretoitthanthat.Now,eatup,whileit’s

still hot. Mmm, I do like a good dumpling. The thing is’ – gesturing with hisloadedfork–‘inanyset-upthere’salwayswhatyoumightcallaresistancetobeovercome.Ifyouwanttogetanythingdone,there’salwayssomethingtogetpast,right? I learned this a long time ago, probably before youwere born,when theworld was very different; but I’ll tell you the story anyway, because it isinteresting,andbecause,strangelyenough,itisrelevanttothetroublesofyouandmerighthereandnow.Yousee,Igotmystartinthisbusinessasasalesman.Youdon’tknowwhatthatis.’‘YesIdo–’‘No, you don’t. You’re thinking of some fellow who works in a sales

administration, sits by his phone all day long like a little king, licks his fingerwhen he feels like it and says, “You can have a little bit.”He licks his fingeragain;“Socanyou,”hesays,“butyoucan’t, Idon’t feel like it today.”And thecustomersgo,“Oh,thankyousir,thankyousir,mayIkissyourarsesir?”’Stepovoi grinned: a narrow grin, still gummed up by virtue, but a grin

nevertheless.‘That’snotasalesman.Yousee,theworldusedtobetheotherwayup,andit

usedtobethebuyerswhosataroundexaminingtheirfingernails,hardthoughthatistoimagine.Asalesmanwasapoorhungrybastardwithasuitcase,tryingtoshiftsomething that people probably didn’t want, ’cause back in those days, peopledidn’tjustgetoutthemoneyandbuyanythingtheycouldgettheirhandson.Theyhad tobe talked into it.And thatwasme, thatwasmyfirst job,agedsixteen,apoorhungrybastardwithasuitcaseworkingforagentlemannamedGersh,whodidpickledherrings in jars.“Gersh’sbest, spicedandbrined.”Yeah,heowned

thecompany; likeIsaid, thiswasa longtimeago.Itwasonits last legs,anditwas tiny,youwouldn’tbelievewhata tinyoperation itwas,now.But Idid thecircuitforhim,foralittlewhile.Iwentroundthetowns,andIwentintothestatestores, and Iwent into theprivategrocerswhichalso still existed then, and I’dopenmy case, and I’d bringoutmy jar, and I’d domy little spiel.Anddoyouknow,doyouknowwhatIlearned?’‘Er…’‘I learned that itwasnever about thebloodyherrings.Theherringswere the

leastimportantpartofthewholething.Always,everytime,itwasaboutwhetherIcouldmakeaconnectionwiththepersonIwastalkingto,inthatcoupleofminutesIwashovering therewith the caseopen. If they likedyou, if theyenjoyed you,maybe they’dbuy. If theydidn’t, theydefinitelywouldn’t.And that, you see, iswhatIcarriedawayfromthatsituation,whenMrGershcametohissadendnotverymuchlater,andtheworldchanged,andnobodyneededsalesmenanymore.Thatwas the lesson that stayed valuable, thatwas the little jewel I picked up.Back then, people didn’t want to buy. Now, they don’t want to sell. There’salways that resistance to get past. But the trick of it stays the same: make aconnection,buildarelationship.Chekuskin’sFirstLaw,myfriend.EverythingIsPersonal. Everything – is – personal.Have another glass.And repeat afterme.Everything…’‘…ispersonal.’‘Goodboy.Sowhatyouget,yousee,whenyouandMrKonevsignmeup,is

allmyrelationships.Iknoweveryoneinthistownthatyouneed.I’mnotkidding:everyone.Andtheyregardmeasafriend,theydealwithmeasafriend;andifI’mrepresenting you, they deal with you as a friend too. Tell me this, all right: ifyou’re a canteen cook, and you’re handing out the soup through the hatch, andyou’vegotonebowlleft,andinallthatcrowdoffacesthere’ssomeoneyouknow,who’reyougoingtogivethesoupto?’‘Well,thefriend–’‘Exactly–’‘Butwhatifthere’stwopeopleyouknow,inthecrowd?‘Fairpoint,’saidChekuskin,holdinguphishandslikesomeonestumpedbya

chessmove.‘Averyfairpoint.Then,allotherthingsbeingequal, theadvantagegoes,doesn’tit,tothefriendwho’sgoingtobeabletodoyouagoodturnback,oneofthesedays.Andagain,that’sanadvantagewewantyoutohaveinthiscase.Whichiswhy,whenyousignupwithme,Iwillnotjustbeaskingyoutopaymeamonthly retainer which will make your eyes water, but which you will pay,becauseIamwortheverykopeck;andmyexpenses,whichwillbe large.Iwillalsobeaskingyoutotrustme,andtomakejustalittlebitofyouroutputavailable,

nowandagain,whenIaskyoutoshipitsomewhere.Becausefriendslookafterfriends;andwhenyou’rewithme,youaren’tjustfriendswiththepeopleyoudobusinesswith direct, you’re friendswith everyone I’m friendswith.And that’senoughpeople, Ipromiseyou, tosolvevirtuallyanyproblemyoumayhave.Sotellme,whilewegetanotherbottleofthisgoodsweetwinehere–whatareyouworryingabout,justnow?WhatcanIhelpyouwith?’And Stepovoi, oiled by Azerbaijani red, began to talk. Chekuskin relaxed a

little,foroncetheconfidenceswereflowing,thedangerwasusuallypast.Hehadtold thestoryofMrGersh’sherringssomany timesnowhebarelyrememberedtheexperience,asopposedtotheanecdote;ortheparticularnatureofGersh’ssadend,andthepartplayedinitbyhisownneedtoextricatehimself.Dependingontheaudience,hecalledGersha‘gentleman’sometimes,sometimesa‘capitalist’,sometimesa‘yid’.

*

Bythree,hewasfree,leavingStepovoiwiththepromiseofticketsforthetheatrethatnight.Thecloudshadnotyetunzippedtheirbelliesandletdownthesnow,buttheshortdaywasdimmingtoagreymurk,inwhichtheredtail-lightsofthetrafficgleamed.Hewasinahurryagain.Viktorcalledhimataxi,andherodeeastward,betweenwarehousewalls,tothezoneofnewconstruction,hisbriefcasebanginghollowonhisknee.Hesuckedapeppermintashecheckedtheotheriteminsideit,agoodfatbankrollsecuredbyrubberbands,withabrownhundredontheoutside.Hewas not, himself, a great believer inmoney. You could hardly get anythingimportantwithit,byitself.Buttherewereafewplacesitwasindispensable.Hethoughtabit,andthen,screenedbytheopenedcase,tookaparttherollandmoveda plum-coloured twenty-five to the outside. In the company he was going to,moneyboasted,moneybragged,money swaggered, and the hundred-rouble bill,thoughitrepresentedamonth’swagesforadroneinanoffice,wasthesamedullbrownasthelowlyone-rouble,andonlyalittlebitlarger.Inthecompanyhewasgoingto,itwaswisetoavoidcreatingevenamomentarydisappointment.Thetaxihad started to labour: the snow was deeper here, out among the half-finishedbuildingswhereonly constructionvehiclespassed.Chekuskin tapped thedriveron theshoulder tostop,andgotout.Evenonfoot thegoingwashard.Hisshortlegssankintothedriftspasthisknees,andwheretheyrosetosmoothlittlecrestshehadtoclamber,withhisglovedhandsoutstretchedandthebriefcasedraggingflatoverthesoftfreshsurfaceslikeaninefficientleathersnowshoe.Theclusterofcranesagainsttheskyaheadwerenotworkingtoday;snowfallhadthickenedtheiroutlines,bulkedthemoutwithcornicesofwhite,tilltheylookedbirdlike,looming

over the snow-choked building site like giant herons or storks, long beakspointing.Beyond,inthetightgapbetweentwonewconcreteblocks,anoldlittlewoodenbuildingstillstood.Ithadbeenslatedfordemolition,butithadnotbeenknockeddown,andnowwouldnotbe.Chekuskinhadhelpedtogetitdesignatedas thebathhouse for theneighbourhood risingaround it.Whether the future flat-dwellers would ever see the inside of it was another matter. A bullyboy in aleather coat was leaning against the door, slowly chewing. He watchedChekuskin’sslowprogresswithoutmoving,anddidnotofferahandupthestepswhenhepulledfreeofthelastdrift,andpausedtostampandtobeatathiscoat-tails. ‘You’re late,’ he said, although Chekuskin was not. ‘So don’t keep mewaiting,’ saidChekuskin,with asmuch snap as he couldmuster. ‘Steady there,little man,’ said the gatekeeper. He cracked the grey front door a few scantcentimetres,andChekuskinsidledthroughintoswelteringheat.Insidethebanyawaslitnotbyelectricitybutbyafewhissinghurricanelamps

whichgleamedonmoistfleshandlefttherestoftheplaceinruddygloom.Itsmeltofshreddedleavesandoldwoodrotting.SteamlickedatChekuskin’spores;evenhere,inthecooler,outerroom,hefelthimselfbegintoliquefy,toooze,insidehisclothes.Heunwoundhisscarfanddegloved,butundressingherewasdefinitelybyinvitationonly,andnoonewassuggestingheshouldhanghissuitupandtriponward to the hot room in a towel alone. In a curious way, as he knew frompreviousappointmentshere,beingtheonlyclothedoneamongthenakedleftyoufeeling as vulnerable as if youwere the only naked person in a roomful of theclothed. It was the difference that did the work. No, no one was making anyinvitations,noonewasspeakingatall; therumbleofmalechathadstopped themomenthecamein, theyhadlookedupfromthecardgamesandweregazingatChekuskinasifadogturdhadhadtheimpudencetowalkin.Upbarearms,acrossbarechests,tattooswriggledinsuchprofusion,blueonRussianwinterwhite,thattheirskinslookedlikewillow-patternchina.Exceptthatthelinesofthetattooingwanderedamateurishly,andblurredbeneathscrimsoffat;andnoonewouldhaveprintedonacuporabowlwhatthesecitizenshadimprintedonthemselves,nottheswastikas,notaMadonnaoffaniconrightnexttosomedetailedgynaecology,notthebleedingknivesandthegarlandsofcocksandthehomemadekamasutras.A kid with a broken nose, less heavily illustrated than the others, and lessmusclebound, jerked his head toward the inner door and reluctantly led himthrough.Theleaf-smellstrengthened;sodidtheheatandthewet,tillattheinmostheart

of the banya the air seemed virtually unbreathable, a thick gruel of steam andshadows. Chekuskin came to the alert. Around the iron stove, Kolya’s chiefcronieswereloungingontieredbenches.Enormousinthemidstofthem,shining

withsweat,bright-eyed,whollynaked,satthethief-kinghimself,everypartofhimfrom his neck down engraved with artwork. But someone was sobbing in thecorner, down in the darkwhere Chekuskin couldmake out nothing of them butkneesandhair,noteventheirgender,onlythattheywereyoung.Everytimehehadcomebefore,hehadbeenreceivedwithakindofparodyofcourtliness,aslightlyboredandslightlycontemptuousapproximationtoabusinessmanner,interruptedbylaughter.Butthistimethemoodwasquitedifferent.Kolyawasswollenwithgoodhumour,asifthesobsweresomethinghewaseating,andfatteningon.Itwasahopelesssound:whateverhadbeendonetothepersoninthecorner,ithadcomeas no surprise. And now Kolya had turned to Chekuskin as toward the nextamusement thedayhadbroughthim.Hemighthavebeendrunkorhigh;hewascertainlyexcited.Hisgrinletyouseeallhisteeth.Hisgazewasanomnivore’s.Therewerecardsinhishand,andinthehandsofthecroniestoo,butwhiletheyhadlittlepilesofjewelleryanddampbillsinfrontofthem,hehadnothingatallexceptafoldedrazor.‘Littleman!’heroared.‘Mylittleman!Hey,whatd’youthink,boys?Ismylittle

maninthegame?What’sheworth,wouldyousay?’Chekuskin’smouth haddried.Hehadheard about the thieves’marathon card

sessions. Theywere famous. They had run on and on, it was said, through theArctic night in the camps, and when the money ran out, the stakes only grewwilder,with theplayerspumpedupon thepleasuresof riskandbetting fingers,ears,eyes,lives.Usuallynottheirown.GodknowshowlongKolyahadbeenonthisparticular jag.Chekuskin reached forall theswaggerhecould find.Hedidnotlookinthecorneragain.Hegavehisbestgrinback,thoughhisteethwerethesmallregulargrindersofsomeminormammalianscavenger,aratatbest.‘Worththis,’hesaid,andtossedthebankrollthroughthesteam.Kolyagrabbed

itfromtheairandbroughtitclosetohisface.Hedidn’tlookatitthough.Hehelditnexttohisear,liftinghischintogiveChekuskinabeautifulviewofthepictureacrosshiscollarbones,whereablondeintearswaschokingonthemonstercockof a goatish commissarwith a star ofDavid onhis forehead, andhorns.Kolyapalped the money once, twice, and stuck a red tongue out, testing the ambientmolecules ofwealthwith his taste buds.Rumour had it thatKolya had, in fact,oncepulled thewalking-larder stuntonapoliticalhepersuaded to escapewithhim in the dawn of his greatness fifteen years ago, and dined at his leisure onintellectual during the longwalk home. The cronies waited. Chekuskin waited.Then thebright eyes fixeduponhimcrinkled and seemed todima little.Kolyalookeddown.Whenhelookedupagain,self-interestandcalculation,thankGod,were back.Kolya put the bankroll carefully down in front of him on its end –openedtherazor–shuttherazor–balanceditontopofthecylinderofcash.

‘Nah,’hesaidregretfully.‘You’reallright.Well,Mis-terChekus-kin,’drawingoutthesyllables,‘wasthereanythingyouneeded?’‘Copperpipe,’saidChekuskin,andhewaspleasedhisvoicewassteady.‘SeeAlioutside.He’llsortyouout.Anythingelse?’‘No.’‘Good.Fuckoff,now,there’sanicelittleman.Notyou!’addedKolya,asthe

boy with a broken nose made to follow. ‘C’mere, kid.’ Chekuskin didn’t lookback.Nowtheygavehimatowel,andherubbedathissoddenscalpandneckwhile

he gave his order to the Tatar who handled Kolya’s trade in stolen buildingsupplies.Hehadbeen telling the truthwhenhe toldStepovoi thathewasnot ablackmarketeer;butjustashiscorporatebusinessnecessarilymergedononesideintotheordinaryworldofindividualfavours,soitborderedontheotherwiththekingdomofthethieves,andnowandagainthereneededtobetrafficacrossthatborder.Sometimes therewas justnootherspeedyway to find thesmallcriticalquantityof somethingaclientneeded togetaconstruction job finished, togetafacility up and going. Kolya’s men controlled the building sites and gatheredtogetherforonwardsaleallthestuffthatwalkedawaywiththeworkerswhentheday ended, all the tools, all the paint, all the cement, all the wood, all theplumbing.Themonthlypayment toKolyaboughthimshoppingrights to the loot.Although,intruth,beforeitwaspaymentitwastribute;itboughthimpermissiontooperateatallinKolya’scity,andprotection,shouldanyother‘boxingclub’bestupid enough to try and put the squeeze on him.What use they found for themoney, he didn’t know. The thieves were literal people. Sometimes they evenrobbedbanks.Forsure thecashcirculatedbetween them,asamarkerofstatus,and ifyoucaredaboutonly themost immediatecomponentsof thegood life,asopposed to housing and healthcare and foreign holidays and so on, there werecertainly thingsyoucouldbuywith it toeat, and todrink, and to smoke,and towear.HeguessedthatKolya’sboysdidn’tqueuemuch.Outside the night was coming on for real, and the snow had finally begun,

spirallingdowninslowgoosefeatherclumps;butthesmoothinghummocksoftheunfinishedcitywerestillwideandwhiteandcalmafter the little infernoof thebanya,andheflounderedoverthemwithrelief.Throughtheflurries,hesawtheshapeofacarpulledoverbythemainroadandwasgladthetaxihadwaited.Hegotcloser;hisheartsank.Not the taxi.TheMoskvitch thatwaswaitingwith itslights off, snow-spatter caking the word on its side, the embers of two litcigarettescomingandgoinginthefrontseat,wasasquadcar.Thefrontwindowwounddownwithajudderasheapproached.‘Lieutenant,’saidChekuskin,morerecklessintonethanhewouldhavebeenif

notforKolya.‘Whatatreat.’‘Buttonyourmouth,youlittlecunt,’saidthepoliceman.‘Get in.We’regiving

youalift.’Thecarwasnotingoodshape.Themufflerbangedandthegearsstridulatedas

it lurchedoff thesnowbankandaway.Also,someonehadbeensick in thebackandthemesshadbeenincompletelycleanedup.Chekuskinpulledthetailsofhisovercoatupandsatasfarashecouldfromit.‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Notwhat you’re used to, right?

Not your usual, uh, travelling carriage. You see,’ he said to the cop driving,‘Chekuskinhereisusedtothegoodlife.Helikestohavethingsnice.Helivesinahotel and he drinks fucking champagne.And he eats fucking caviar, am I right?AndhemakesmoreinonefuckingafternoonthanyouorIwillseeinamonth.Anddoyouknowwhythatis,son?Telltheboywhythatis,Chekuskin.’‘I’m–’‘Shutthefuckup.Thereason is, thatChekuskinhereisanhonest-to-goodness

parasite.Alouse.Justlikeinthepapers!Arealone!Asoft-handed,profiteering,piece-of-shitparasitewhothinkshe’stoogoodtodoaday’swork.’The driver grunted. It was time to stop this: the lieutenant’s voice had the

dangeroussoundofsomeoneworkingthemselvesup.‘You do remember,’ said Chekuskin, ‘that I have an understandingwith your

captain?’‘Oh,youdo.Iknowthat.He’safriendofyours,isn’the?Everyone’safriendof

Chekuskin’s,’ the lieutenant told the driver. ‘You can’t turn round in this citywithoutbumpingintoafriendofChekuskin’s.Lookunderarockandwhatdoyouseewrigglingthere?Somefriendsof–’‘Whereareyoutakingme?’saidChekuskin,urgently.Theyhadjustturnedthe

wrongwayat the junction,andwereheadingeastoutof thecityon theTyumenroad. The red oval glow of the sunset swung into place in the rear window,obscuredbymovingveilsofsnowfall,sinkingdownbehindthecity’sspike-forestof pylons and cranes and gantries. The wipers laboured ineffectually on thewindscreen.Therewasnothingaheadonthehighwaybutsnowanddark.‘Foralittleride,’saidthelieutenant.Thedrivergrunted.‘WherewasI?’said

thelieutenant.‘Ohyeah.Chekuskin’sfriends.Now,Chekuskindoesfavoursforallhisfriends.Sowhatdoyouthinkhedoesforthecaptain?Iwilltellyou.Ourgoodold parasite here, wriggle wriggle, is also, what do you know, a snitch. Youshouldseehisfile.He’sbeenhelpingusoutfortwenty-eightwholeyears.Andnotjust us, either. The security boys up the street, too. Very laudable. Very civic-minded. Of course, some people might call that ratting out your friends. Somepeople might say that meant you couldn’t trust Chekuskin any further than you

couldthrowhim.ButChekuskinknowswhichsidehisbreadisbuttered.Hegivesus a titbit here and a titbit there, enough to keep us happy; but he looks afterhimself firstofall,doesn’the.Doesn’the,MrChekuskin?Heratsouteveryonejustenoughtogetalong.’‘Ihaveanarrangement–’saidChekuskin.‘Yeah,yeah.Withthecaptain.Butyoudon’thaveanarrangementwithme.And

thethingis,I’vebeenthinking.I’vebeenthinkingaboutyou,andallyourfriends;and I said to myself, now, if those were real friends, you’d be a very well-protectedman,you’dbethelastpersonanyonewouldwanttofuckwith,becausethink how upset all those powerful friends of yours would be, if anythinghappened to you. Then I said to myself, pull yourself together, here. This is aparasiteandasnitchwe’retalkingabout.Andeveryonewhoeverdealswithhimhasgottoknowit,hasgottohavealittlebitofafeelingofwhataweaselheis.Real friends, they’ddie foryou.Your friends–well, Idoubt theycarewhetheryou liveordie,dothey,really.They’dbe,what,mildlypissedoffiftheydidn’tgettheirnextfavourfromyou.Andthat’dbeaboutit.Wherearewe?’heaskedthedriver.‘AboutKilometre8?’‘Justgone,’saidthedriver.‘This’lldo.’TheMoskvitch slewed, clanking, to the sideof thehighway.A singlepair of

blue-whitetruckheadlightswasinsightinthedistance.Otherwise,allwasquiet.‘SoIthoughttomyself,’saidthelieutenant,‘Icoulddosomeclean-up.Icould

wipeaway just a littlebitof the shit that clings to this shittyworld.Nothing tostopme.’Thishasgotbeabluff,thoughtChekuskin.Thishasgottobetheatre.It’sjusta

shakedown.But the lieutenantgotoutof thecar, ripped thebackdooropenanddraggedChekuskinoutbyhiscollar.Vodka-breathcameoffhim,closeto,andhemovedlikesomeonewhowasverydrunk.Hetooktopplingstridesawayfromtheroad,withChekuskinpullingalongbehind,hookedontoonebigfist.Histoesdugtwo white runnels. Snow descended million-fold. The driver followed morecautiously.Thelieutenantpuffedandblew.On the far side of a row of fir trees, the lieutenant stopped. He pulled

Chekuskintohisfeet, thenonup,hoistedbythefistunderhischin, tillhisshortlegsintheirnondescripttrousersdangledinmid-airandhewaslookingdownintothepoliceman’s red,bristling face, intobloodshoteyesblinkingconvulsivelyasflakesspangledthemagainandagain.‘Whatdoyouwant?’squeakedChekuskin.The lieutenant hit him; punched him in the gut with his free hand. It hurt

amazinglymuch.

‘Piece-of-shit life,’ said the lieutenant meditatively, as if taking inventory.‘Piece-of-shitflat.Piece-of-shitjob.Piece-of-shitcar.’‘Tellmewhatyouwant!’‘…piece-of-shitcar.’‘Icangetyouanewcar!’‘Youcan,canyou?’‘Yes!’The lieutenantpulledhimclose,nose tonose.The twobloodshoteyes swam

together,andittookChekuskinamomenttorealisethatthecyclopeanshutteringhewasseeingacentimetreawaywas,infact,awink.‘Much obliged,’ whispered the lieutenant, and dropped Chekuskin into a

snowdrift.Itseemedbetternottogetup.Helaythere,gaspingandleakingtears,withhis

coatruckedoverhimandthescaldofthesnowonhisneck,tillhewassurethetheatre was finished. It was. The footsteps moved away from him, crunch andsough,crunchandsough;aburstof laughterendedindoorslams;theMoskvitchhackedintolife;theengine-noterose,andreceded.Thenherolledoverontohisface.Thatwayup,gravitysqueezedthesoftsacofhisabusedstomach:hethrewhislunchupinthreewaterygushes,anditsankawaythroughthefreshfluffonthesurfaceofthedrift.Whenheroseontoallfours,hisweightpushedhishandsdowntothehardoldcrustbeneath,asroughandgranularasacoldcoralreef.Ittookabackwards scrabble and twist to get him out. He wobbled to his knees, spat,wipedhismouthwithsnow;stayedtherewithhishandsoverhisfaceinthedark,as ifhewerepraying, thoughhewasnot,nordevisinga revenge,normakingaplan,nordoinganythingbutattendtohisbreathblowingshakilyinandoutthroughhispalms.Thebreathstillmoving.Theworld’sair still feeding the life inhim,whateverhedeserved.Noblackbundleunderthepines,leakingdarkblood,sooncovered over with the new fall and dropping away, dropping deep, into thegeologiclayersofwinter,intothecold,intothepast,intothedark.No.Instead,alittlemoreofthismovingwind,alittlemorebreathing;alittlemorejinkingandweavinganddodging,inthebrightworld.But itwas not bright out now. Itwas full dark, and damn near as thickwith

snowasinablizzard,albeitthefallwasallaslowverticaltumbleratherthanahorizontalblow.Hewasdisappearingjustkneelinghere.Thelieutenanthadonlymeant togivehimascare,buthemighthavekilledhimanyway,byaccident, ifChekuskindidn’tstirhimselfandgettoshelter.Dizzily,hestood,andwadedbackto the highway, beating at the litter of perfect mathematical beauty which haddroppedfromtheskytohishairandhisshouldersandhisarms.NotrafficatallwasvisibleontheTyumenroad.Hetotteredacrosstotheother

sideandsetoffwalking,hiscity shoes slippingwhere the sludge in thewheel-tracks had refrozen.He tried to calculate.Kilometre 8, or thereabouts, so onlythreeorfourkilometrestotheedgeoftheconstructionzone,andonlyfourorfivekilometres to buildings thatwerewarmand inhabited.But hewas feelingquitestrange.Heachedfromtheblow.Itseemedtohavespreadoutfromwhereithadlanded,andtobesuffusingitselfintohiswholeupperbody.Also,withnothinginhisgutshewasremarkablycold.Ittookeffortjusttokeepfollowingtheroadway.Hecouldfeeltheflakeswhisperingdownontohisbarehead,thoughhecouldn’tseethemintheblackahead,exceptasaflickeringofthedarknessitself,apulsedflutterlikethestaticonatelevisionscreen.Wherewashishat?Inthebackseatofthepolicecar,herealised,alongwiththebriefcase.Thatwasallright:therewasnothing left in it anyhow, the notebook was safe in his pocket. He thought heprobably wouldn’t go and ask for them back. The idea made him giggle. Hetotteredon,andon.Nothingshonethroughtheflutteringstaticaheadtotellhimthecitywas there; no streetlamps, no redwarning lights on cranes.Very graduallythough,hesaw,thestaticwasbrightening,risingfromblackonblack,togreyongrey,tocreamoncream,toabusyvariegatedgold,asifsomeonewereadjustingaknob on the television. The volume was increasing too, all the way from thewhisperuptoaroar.Thephenomenonwassointerestingthatheforgottowalk.Heswayedandcontemplatedit,tillthegiantMAZtruckrightbehindhimsoundeditshornandmadehimjump.‘What the fuckareyoudoing,man?’ said thedriver,withhisheadoutof the

sidewindow.Then,incredulously,‘MrChekuskin?’Heletsolicitoushandshelphimupthestepintothecab,settlehiminblissful

warmth in the corner of the big front seat. The driver’s face swam up, young,moustached,curious.‘Man,youlookreallyrough,’hesaid.Thecardindexspatoutacard.‘Hello,Vassily,’croakedChekuskin.Vassilydrovequarrymaterials,sometimes

sold petrol fromhis tank toKolya’s lot.Vassilywas a seriousSpartak fan.Heshouldtalkfootball–but theglowingcomfortof thecabundidhim, theflushofheatinhisfacemadeitnecessarythathiseyesbeshut,andheslippedintoinstant,irresistiblesleep.Vassilyshrugged,andputtheMAZingear.

*

‘MrChekuskin?MrChekuskin?’‘What–’‘WherecanIdropyou?

Thetruckwasgrindingalongoneofthecityavenues,streetlampsjerkingpast.Thingslookedsuddenlydifferentinthecab,andnotjustbecausesodiumlightwasshining in, shuffling itsdullorange fingersacross theplasticof the seatand themetalofthedash.Ordinarinesshadresumed;theworldhadgoneordinaryagain.For a confused instant, he could remember the cab as a place like a rich littlejewel box, blazing with fierce beads of colour, but already the memory waselusive,inthefaceofthemagazinepicturesofSpartak’s1964teamline-uppastedto thedashboard;already itwasshrivelling, ithaddwindled, ithadskittered tonothinglikeadropofwateronahotplate.Hewishedhecouldsaythesameforthememoryofthescenewiththelieutenant,butonlyathinskinofindifferencehadformedoveritduringhisbriefsleep.Hewantedverymuchtoduckstraightbackintooblivionandletthatskinthicken,sothatheshouldn’tfeel,anywherenearby,whathehadfeltashedangled.Hecouldgohome–hedidn’tliveinahotel–andhe could climb into bed, and the widow lady he rented from, as round andcomfortableasapouterpigeon,mightclimbinwithhim,asshehadbeenknowntodofromtimetotime.Hecould–‘Mister?’Chekuskin looked at his watch. Improbably, it was only five past six. He

wavered.Thebedcalled.Itpulledathimlikegravity.Hefeltunreadyforanythingelse.Buthewasalive,andlivingcreatureswork.Hecouldcertainlyuseadrink.‘The station, please,’ he said, and the rest of theway hemade himselfmake

conversation,tryingtowarmuptheinstrumentagain.‘Whatonearthwereyoudoingoutthere?’askedVassily.‘Longstory,’saidChekuskin.‘Bitofamishap,eh?’‘Somethinglikethat.’Vassilywas still puzzled, but he had the egocentricity of youth, andwhenhe

foundhewasn’tgoingtogetataleoutofChekuskin,helethimchangethesubjecthappilyenoughtohis,Vassily’s,ownlifeandopinions.‘Hereyouarethen,’hesaid,pullingoveratthebaseofthestonestepsuptothe

maindoorsoftherailroadstation.‘Needahand?’‘Nothankyou,’saidChekuskindeterminedly,thoughhewincedashenegotiated

thedroptotheground.Hehadstiffenedup:asoretightnessranfromhiskneestohisneck.Citizensheadinghomewardpouredpasthim.Hetookthestepsoneatatime.Thesnowwasfallingjustasfast,butitseemedatamercreaturehere.Bythetimeheleveredhimselftothetop,itwas6.15.Ryszardmightstillbethere,orhemightnot.Healmosthopedhewasn’t.Thebarwasoffthetickethall,anaquariumofsmokebehindaglassdoor.Noonepaidhimanyattentionashelimpedathalf-speed through the crowd, but the reflection he saw swimming up in the glass,

shoulder-height to all the othermen, seemed horriblymemorable. The librarianhadbeenoutonabender.He looked like adepravedoldmidget.Hishairwaswild,hisfacewasblotchy,hisneckwasbruise-purple,hissuitwaswrenchedandsplit at the shoulder, showing the lining.Hewould have turned awaybut there,indeed, was Ryszard, sitting at the bar with his back to the door, shouldersmiserablyrounded,pullingwithonehandattheblackspikesofhaironhisscalp.Chekuskinlimpedin,partingblueeddies,andtappedthePoleonthearm.‘Thereyouare,’saidRyszard.‘Iwasjust–goodgrief,man,what’shappened

toyou?’Chekuskinconsideredthetaskofascendingabarstoolandrejectedit.‘Couldwemove to a booth, do you think?’ he said. ‘I really need to sit on

somethingwithaback.’Hepassedabanknote to thebarman,alsogazingathimagog,andledthewaytoanemptyalcovewithpaddedbanquettes.‘Oof,’hesaid,settlinghimself.‘That’sbetter.Mugged.Iwasmugged.Aboutan

hourago.Coupleofstilyagi.Reallystompedme,thelittlebastards.Knockedthebreathrightoutofme.’‘Dearohdearohdear.Howawful,’ saidRyszardsympathetically,butwitha

certaingloomyrelish.Hehadbroughthisbeerover;nothisfirst,bythelookofit.‘Didtheygetmuch?’‘Cigarettecase.Bitofcash.’‘Ouch.Youshouldgetyourselfhome,youknow–putyourfeetup.’‘Iwill,butIthinkIdeserveadrinkfirst,ifyouknowwhatImean.You’lljoin

me?’Ryszardwavedhisbeer.‘Imeantarealdrink.Ah,herewego.’Ryszard’seyeswidened.Thestationbarhadnofinesse.Itsloppedboozeinto

travellerswhoneededhelp toendure theeveningathomeaheadof them.Everytabletopwasencrustedwitholympiadsofrings.Butnowthroughtheyeastymurkavisionwasgliding, awaiter ceremoniouslyholdingout a sparkling-clean traywithanewbottleofStolichnayaonit,inice;andcleanglasses,andtemptinglittlesaucersofgherkin,andham,andredcaviar,andpancake,andpickledmushroom.‘Ididn’tthinktheydidzakuskihere,’saidRyszard.‘Theydon’t,’saidChekuskin.‘Cheers.’‘Cheers. All right, I’ll just stay for a couple, but then I better move. I’m

expected.’‘Ofcourse.Cheers.’‘Cheers.Mm,that’sthestuff.’ItwasmakingChekuskinfeelbettertoo.Thislooseningofthegrimylittleknots

tiedinhimbyfearwasthenextbestthingtobed.Hispolicywasalwaystomake

clients feel he was matching them drink for drink, convivially, while trulyconsumingafractionasmuch,butthistimehetoreintothebottleonhisaccount,recklessly,onlyensuringthatheputahealthyspoonfuloffoodintohimforeachslug.Ryszardwasdabbinghisemptylittleglassbackacrossthetabletowardsthebottle formore,witha flirtatious touchofone index fingeron it, then theother,like a schoolboy dribbling a sugar-cube for a soccer ball, or Charlie Chaplinmaking his supper dance. He gave Chekuskin a smile that was already slightlymuzzy.Hehadbeengood-lookingnotlongago;perhapswasstillfoundsobyhiswife, judging by the rate at which they seemed to be reproducing; but the skinroundhiseyeswasmoistallthetimenow,likedampwhitesuede,andheblinkedalot.Chekuskinpouredhimanotherone.‘How’s the family?’heasked, judging that themomentwaspassedwhen this

wouldtriggerthoughtsofdeparture.Itdidn’t;ittriggeredstorytelling,amoroselyjokeyaccountoflifeinwintertimeinatwo-bedroomflatwithfourchildrenunderseven and his mother-in-law, diapers constantly drying, the ammoniac tang ofinfanturineconstantlyintheair,greentrailsofsnotconstantlyhangingfromfournoses.‘I tell you,’ he said, ‘I love ’em, but I leave in themorning, and it’s like a

weightbeingliftedoff,IswearIgettallerjustgoingdownthestairstothestreetdoor.’Chekuskin nodded sympathetically, but he didn’t say anything. Too risky, to

stakeoutapositiononsomeoneelse’sprivate life,when the tideofadrinker’sconfidencesmightturnatanyminuteandflowbacktheotherway,leavingyouasthe guy who criticised his nearest and dearest. A friend might do it. A friend,maybe,wouldspeakupwithanopinionhere,ormaybe takeRyszardby theearandbundlehimdownstairstohissuburbantrain.Butthelieutenanthadbeenrightabout one thing. These careful connections weren’t friendships, quite, butimitationsofthemrunninginparalleltotherealthing,alwayswithanendinview,alwayslackingthecommitmentrequiredtopisssomeoneoffandnotcareaboutit.The vodka couldn’t make Chekuskin as reckless as that. He poured himselfanother,anditburned.‘AbouttheSolkemfiborder,’hesaid,andhopedStolichnayawoulddomostof

thepersuading.He seemed tohavemisplacedhisown subtlety somewhat. ‘Youpromisedtofillmein.’‘Idid?’Ryszard’shandwasinhishairagain,tugging.‘God,mustwe?It’sbeen

alongday.’Hasn’titjust,thoughtChekuskin.Buthecoaxedtogetherafirmsmile–afirm,

definite,adultsmile,sinceRyszardseemedtowanttoplayatboyishsulks.‘Comeon,’hesaid.‘Give.’

‘I dunno,’ said Ryszard. ‘I dunno if there’s any point. You are amagician, Iconcedethatfreely’–pattingtheemptyspaceabovetheneckofthebottle–‘butthisisbeyondyourpowers.It’soutofreach.Andit’sconfidential.’‘Everything’s confidential,’ said Chekuskin sharply. ‘That never stopped you

before.I’lltellyouwhat,we’lldothistheotherwayaround.I’lltellyouwhattheproblemis,andyouconfirmitordenyit,allright?Productionproblem.’‘No.’‘Supplyproblem.’‘No.’‘Politicalproblem.’‘No.’‘Personalityproblem?’‘No–andyou’renotgoingtoguessitthisway,Iassureyou.Thisis…afuck-

upfromoffthemap.Fromoutofnowhere.Anewanduniquestyleoffuck-up.’‘What,then?’‘Youcan’tfixit,Chekuskin.What’sthepointintellingyouaboutit,ifyoucan’t

fixit?’‘Where’stheharmintellingmeaboutit,ifIcan’tfixit?’‘Oh, giveme a break.All the harm in the fuckingworld.Do you knowhow

public this is?Yourpreciousclientsbreak theirmachine– theonlyplant in thewholeUnion thathasmanaged todo that,by theway–andsuddenly, thewholeworldiswatching.Thefuckingcurtainhasbeenlifted,don’tyougetthat?Noneofyour ingenious little arrangements under cover of darknesswill fly, even if youcouldfindthemoney.’Chekuskinsatverystill.‘Themoney,’herepeated.Ryszardwrappedhisarmsdespairinglyroundhishead.‘OhGod,’hesaid,from

within the ball ofwrists and hair, ‘I should have gone home.Giveme anotherdrink.’Chekuskinpoured.Thebottlewasnearlyempty.‘Themoney,’hesaidagain,baffled.‘Thisisabudgetproblem?Nobodycares

aboutthose.’‘Theydothis time.Theydothis time.Becausethanksto thespecialsoddding

circumstances,andthelast-minuteincreaseinthequota,Gosplanistryingtohelpus out with a budget increase. Which we have to justify by hitting the moneytargets this year as well as the physical ones. It’s not enough to just turn outeighteenmachines;we’vegottomeetthesalestargettoo.Andso,althoughyourclientswanttheupgrade,andbelieveme,wewouldliketogivethemtheupgrade,because it is in fact easier to manufacture, we cannot give them the upgrade,

because there is a little itty-bitty price difference between the upgrade and theoriginal.’Pricedifference.Chekuskincouldnotthinkofanoccasioninthirtyyearswhere

thiskindof thinghadbeenan issue.He struggled toapplyhismind through theanalgesicfug.‘Allright,theupgradecostsmore,’hesaid.Where’stheproblem?It’snotasif

my guys are going to pay for it themselves. It all comes out of the sovnarkhozcapitalaccountanyway.’‘Ah, ah, ah. But it doesn’t cost more. That’s the delightful essence of the

problem; that’swhat you’renot going tobe able to solve. It costs less. It costs112,000 roubles less. Every one that leaves the factory would rip a great biggaping fucking hole in the sales target, which this year, courtesy of your guys,we’re going to have to care about. Gosplan is pressing its collective nose upagainstourworkshopwindowstryingtoseewhat’sgoingon.’‘Istilldon’tgetit,’saidChekuskin.‘Whyshouldtheupgradecostless?’‘We didn’t get it either,’ saidRyszard. ‘We asked for clarification.We said,

why isour lovelynewmachineworth less thanouroldone?Anddoyouknowwhat they said, thesovnarkhoz?No?Theypointedout that thenewoneweighsless.Theysaid,andI’mquoting,“Pricingofequipmentinthechemicalindustryiscalculatedchieflybyweight.”‘Andno,’wentonRyszard, ‘I amnot joking. I am indismalearnest.So,you

see,unlessyoucandeviseawaytocompensateusinvisibly,inplainsight,withthe whole world watching, your clients will be receiving back the good oldoriginalPNSh-180-14Swhichtheyweresocarelesswithinthefirstplace.’

*

Ryszard went home. Chekuskin made to get up too, after a decent pause, butsomething dreadful had happened to his bodywhile he sat.Under cover of thevodka,hisacheshadsetlikecement.Hehadstiffenedinplace,fromhisneckrightdowntothedanglingsolesofhisshoes.Hislegswouldn’tmoveproperlyatall.Hehadtogetthebarmanandthewaitertolifthimfromtheboothandchairhimdowntheouterstairstoataxi.Theylethimknowbytheirresentfuleyeswhatabumhe looked,andhowverymuchthisservicewasnot included inhispresentdealwiththem.Allthewaydownthestepsinthesnow,limparmsdrapedroundtheirnecks,hefelthisdebtsmount.Norwas thewidowglad toseehim,when the taxi-driverdumpedhimather

threshold.Itwasunderstoodbetweenthemthathewouldfrequentlyneedtoreturnwithadrinkor twoinhim,butshowingupincapablewasadifferentstory.She

gavehimaminimalarmtoshuffletothebathroom,pasttheguardianphotosofherhusband.Nofriendlyblancmange-pinkfleshtocuddleuptotonight.Inthemirror,the halves of his shirt split centimetre by fumbling centimetre to reveal a dingyrainbowofbruise.Helaydowninthedarkandhisheadspun.Roundandroundthebedtilted,roundandroundreeledimagesoftheday,awindmillwhirlofthem:Kolya’s illustrations,MrGershandhispickledherrings,vomiton thesnow, thepasodoble,thelieutenant,thelieutenant,thelieutenant.Chekuskindreamed.Hewasinafactory,sidlingupthewalkspacebesidesome

immensemachine.Butwhenheputhishandonittosteadyhimself,insteadofcoldmetalthesurfacehefeltwasleatheryandwarm.Littletremorsranthroughit,butnotmechanicalones.Themachine,hesaw,wasvilelyalive.Beneathamembraneof purplish black, fluids were pulsing thickly from chamber to chamber. Hesteppedback,buthishandwouldnotcomefree.Ithadstucktothemachine,andnow,herealised,therewasnorealpalmtohishandanymore.Hecouldnomorepull away than he could pull his arm off. His arm, his whole body, wereoutgrowthsofthemachine,justasiphoninaman’sshapethroughwhichthesamefluidssluggishlycirculated.Thenthewallsweregone,butthemachineremained.It stretchedaway into snowydarkness.Somehow,becausehewaspartof it, hecouldfeelitsvastness.Atitsedgesitwastirelesslyeatingwhateverremainedintheworldthatwasnotyetit,anditconsumeditsownwastestoo.Itwaswarmandpoisonous,anditgrew,andgrew,andgrew.

*

Butinthemorninghefeltmuchbetter.Thedreamwashedoffhiminahotshower,thewidow smiled at him forgivingly. Over coffee an inkling came to him of asolution to the Solkemfib problem, a firstmental draft of a complex scheme offavours, arranged in a braided circle. By 8.30, he was waiting at the mainentranceofUralmash,hissparebriefcaseloadedwithoneortwocarefullychosenitems.Uralmash!Atreasuryofpossibilities!Thesnowhadstopped,andtheworldwasaswhiteasmeringue,beneathaskyofeggshellblue.Thegateswungopen–‘Morning, Yuri,’ he cried to the guard, ‘how’s yourmother?’ – and through hedancedonhisneatlittlefeet.

Notes–IV.3Favours,1964

1Over the ridge where the floor heaved up they danced: I have no knowledge of any bulge in thedanceflooroftheSverdlovskPalaceofCulture.ButtheNovosibirskPalaceofCulturehasone.

2ArealSpaniardmaroonedhere, inacrudecoldsteeltown: and therewere realSpaniardsscatteredaroundtheSovietUnion,injustSenoraLopez’sposition.

3Itwashisbusinesstodoso,hemadehis livingsnappingupthese trifles:Chekuskin’smethods of

operation in thischapterareelaboratedfromJosephBerliner’sdescriptionof theworkof the tolkach or‘pusher’inFactoryandManagerintheUSSR,withhiscapacityforinstantfriendship,andhismemoryforbirthdaysandchildren’snames,andhisplausibleentréetoeveryofficeintown.(Thestereotypicaltraitsofthesuccessfulsalesman,infact,hereinvertedforasituationinwhichbuyingratherthansellingistheartthatrequirespersuasion.)Berlinerdrewhisinformationfrompost-warinterviewswithDisplacedPersons,sothetolkach ashedescribeshim isacreatureof the1930s:but the institutionsof theSovieteconomythat made the tolkach necessary remained essentially unchanged all the way from the Stalinistindustrialisation to the fall of the state in 1991, and there were indignant newspaper reports and anti-tolkach cleanup campaigns every few years throughout the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, which suggests abasic continuity. Given Chekuskin’s continual use of individual favour-trading to oil the wheels of hisindustrialnegotiations,anotherimportantsourcewasLedeneva,Russia’sEconomyofFavours.I’vemadeChekuskinextremelyblatnoi, richinconnections,butheisn’tquiteablatmeister,amaestroof individualdeal-makingaboutflatsandschoolsandtelephonesanddoctorsandBlackSeaholidays,because–touseLedeneva’s elegant analysis of the psychology of blat – a blatmeister co-ordinated the mutualbackscratchingofmanyoverlappingcirclesof friends,andcouldonly thrive ifperceivedasa real friend,whereasChekuskinisfundamentallyacommercialfigure,wholeansacrosstheboundaryintotheworldofblat, justashealsodoesintotheworldoftheblackmarket.Ledenevaisinvaluableonthedistinctionsoffeelinginvolved,thecrucialoneofwhichistheextenttowhich,ineachofthesethreeadjacentworldsofillicit behaviour, the actors let themselves see clearly what they were doing. Blat transactions werethoroughlymystified; theywere conceptualised as part of thewarmth of friendship, and could never beexplicitlypaid forbya return favour, thoughanyonewhodidn’t tendhisorherendofablat relationshipwouldsoonfindthesupplyoffriendlyhelpdryingup.Thetolkachbusinessknewitwasabusiness;butitwasoneinwhich,asChekuskinsaysbelow,EverythingisPersonal.Themoneywasthere,thepriceofatransactionhadtobepaid,buttheobjectwastofindnon-moneyreasonsforthetransactiontotakeplace.Andattheotherendofthescale,theblackmarketwasamarket,ofarudimentarykind,wheregoods(forinstance, stolenpetrol)weresold to relativestrangers inorder toobtaincash. Itwas the limitedutilityofcashthatlimitedthesizeoftheblackmarket.

4A flying saucer swoops down over the earth and grabs aRussian,aGerman and a Frenchman:authentic joke, in the subgenre of comfortable self-insults to the Russian character, from Graham, ‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.Thealiensgiveallthreeabducteesapairofshiningsteelspheresandlockthemintinycompartmentsaboardthespaceship.They’llreleasetheonewhocanthinkofthemostamazingthingtodowiththespheres,theysay.TheGermanjuggleswithhisspheres:notbad.ButtheFrenchman juggleswith themwhile standingonhisheadandsingingabeautiful lovesong.Surelyhemustbethewinner–‘butwe’lljustcheckwhattheRussiancando,’saythealiens.Inamoment,they’reback. ‘Sorry, but the Russian wins.’ ‘In God’s name, how?’ says the Frenchman. ‘What else could hepossiblyhavecomeupwith?’‘Well,’saythealiensinawe,‘hebrokeone,andlosttheother…’

5Overthe intersectionto thebigporticoof theCentralHotel:SverdlovskherehasagenericSovietgeography,nottheactualgeographicaldetailoftheactualcity(nowEkaterinburgagain).

6Feelingacertainwaveringinhislegs,asiftheywereanticipatingasuddenneedtoflee:becauseChekuskin’sactivities are technically,of course, all illegalunderArticle153of theSovietCriminalCode,prohibitingcommercialmiddlemen.

7AgentlemannamedGersh,whodidpickledherrings in jars:orHersch, as hewould have been inothercountries.Russianhasno‘h’,andrendersthe‘h’soundas‘g’ratherthanas(theotheroption)‘kh’.TheUSSRwasinvadedin1941byaGermandictatorcalledGitler.MrGersh’spickledherringbusiness,ontheotherhand,clearlyoperatedduringtheNewEconomicPolicyofthemid-1920s.

8 A brown hundred on the outside: for contemporary banknotes, seehttp://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Banknotes_of_the_Soviet_Union,_1961.

9Noonewouldhaveprintedonacuporabowlwhatthesecitizenshadimprintedonthemselves:allof the tattoo designs here are authentic, and can be found inDanzig Baldaev et al.,Russian CriminalTattooEncyclopedia(Gottingen:Steidl,2004).

10Hehad heard about the thieves’marathon card sessions: for thieves and their card games in theGulag, seeAleksandr Solzhenitsyn,TheGulagArchipelago2, 1918–1956, Parts III–IV, translated by

ThomasP.Whitney(London:Collins/Harvill,1975),pp.410–30.Forafictionalrepresentation,drawingonthe Siberian experience of the imprisoned Yugoslav Karlo Stajner, see Danilo Kis, ‘The Magic CardDealing’(story),inATombforBorisDavidovich, translatedanonymouslyfromtheSerbian(NewYork:HarcourtBraceJovanovich,1978).

11Coupleofstilyagi.Reallystompedme,thelittlebastards:quiffed,music-lovingmembersoftheSovietUnion’sfirstdistinctiveteenagetribe.Associatedwithdelinquency,andthereforeconvenientlyblamableforall ills, and not just byRussians;AnthonyBurgess claimed that itwas a violent encounterwith stilyagioutsideaLeningradnightclubthatinspiredhimtocreateAlexandhisdroogsinAClockworkOrange.

12 This is a budget problem? Nobody cares about those: I have cheated here slightly, and givenUralmashaproblemwithmoneywhich,strictlyspeaking,wouldnothaveexistedinthisformuntilafterthe1965reform,whichchangedthemeasureofplanfulfilmentfromphysicalvolumeofoutputtoprofitmade.Hence the need here for the additional factor of special scrutiny by Gosplan. Otherwise, in 1963, thechemical fibre equipmentdivisionofUralmash reallywouldhaveworried about thenumberofmachinesproduced,and littleelse.ByhavingSolkemfib’sproblemwithgetting theirupgrade turn,anachronistically,on price irrationality, I’m dramatising in advance the consequences of a price-irrational reform when itcomesinthenextchapter.

13Pricingofequipmentinthechemicalindustryiscalculatedchieflybyweight:agenuinestatement,but actually made, later, to a plant manufacturing car-tyre-moulding machines in Tambov. See Ellman,PlanningProblemsintheSovietUnion.

Straight away the archer was seized as if by an impetuous breeze, andcarriedintotheairsofasthiscapfelloff.‘Hey,genie,stopforaminute!’hecried. ‘Too late, master,’ said the genie, ‘your cap is now five thousandverstsbehindus.’Townsandvillages, riversand forests flashedbeforehiseyes…

PARTV

Baggy two-piecesuitsarenot theobviouscostume forphilosopherkings: butthat, in theory,waswhat theapparatchikswho ruled theSovietUnion in the1960s were supposed to be. Lenin’s state made the same bet that Plato hadtwenty-five centuries earlier, when he proposed that enlightened intelligencegiven absolute powers would serve the public good better than the grubbypoliticking of republics. On paper the USSRwas a republic, a grand multi-ethnicfederationofrepublicsindeed,anditsconstitutions(therewereseveral)guaranteeditscitizensallmannerofcivilrights.ButintruththeSovietsystemwas utterly unsympathetic to the idea of rights, if you meant by them anysuggestion that the two hundred million men, women and children whoinhabited the Soviet Union should be autonomously fixing on two hundredmillion separate directions inwhich to pursue happiness. Thiswas a societywith just one programme for happiness, which had been declared to bescientificand therefore– thepeoplewere told–wasas factual as gravity. Ithad originated in a profound discovery, the programme: an unveiling of theentire logic of humanhistory.Then it had been clarified, codified, simplifiedand finally brought down to a headful of maxims, all without losing itscompletenessoritsauthority.Tocarryitout,thoseinwhomtheknowledgewasinstalledwereauthorised

toactonitdirectly,unrestrainedbylawsorbyanymoralcodeoftheoldstyle.So,alongsidethenominalstructuresofstateandsocietyintheUSSR,thePartyexisted, its hierarchy shadowing all other hierarchies, its organisation chartmapping the true nervous system for the country. Every factory, every armyunit,everyuniversity faculty,every towncouncil,haditscorrespondingPartycommittee,staffedwithpeoplewhomightnot,onpaper,outrankthesoldiersorprofessors or managers or functionaries they worked among; but whopossessed, in fact, an unlimited authority to guide, nudge, cajole, threaten,intervene, overrule. Up at the top the arrangement became explicit. ThePresidiumwhichruledtheSovietUnionwasnotthecabinetoftheSovietstate.ItwasthePresidiumoftheCentralCommitteeoftheParty;itwasthecourtoftheFirstSecretary,chiefandprincipalamongallthephilosophicalkingsoftheUSSR. Sometimes the First Secretary was also prime minister of the SovietUnion, sometimes hewasn’t. It didn’tmattermuch. The notional premiershipwas a second-order position, a nice bauble to hang round the neck of realpower.The ordinary apparatchiks were not, of course, allowed to do freelance

philosophyontheirownaccount.Ideologicaldirectionwassetatthetop,andpasseddown,byconferenceresolutionsandnewspapereditorials,asa ‘Partyline’whichonlyneededtobeapplied.Butonthekingshipsideofthings,evenjuniorapparatchikshadconsiderablediscretion–orperhapsitwouldbebetterto say, they were obliged to improvise. They had to make endless, quick,unappealabledecisionsaboutthefateofthehumanbeingsinfrontofthem.Thetheory in their heads was universal in its reach, and their expertise wassupposedtobeuniversaltoo.Theyweretheagentsofhumanity’sfuture,whichtheyweretomanufacturebybeing,inthepresent,expertsinhumannature.Inthissense,eventhegrimmestofthemwas,professionally,apeopleperson.Theyactedasprogress-chasers, fixers,censors, seducers, talent-scouts,comedians,therapists,judges,executioners,inspirationalspeakers,coaches,andevenfromtimetotimeaspoliticiansoftherepresentativevariety,carryingaconcernoftheir constituents to the centre for attention. It was a quality deliberatelydesigned into their power that it shouldbeunlimited, that it shouldhave theweightof thewholeprojectbehind it, inwhateverunforeseeable situation thelittlemonarchsfoundthemselves.Therehadbeenaperiod,underStalin,whenthesecuritypoliceseemedtobesupplantingthem,butKhrushchevhadrestoredthe supremacy of the apparat. Here was another reason for the baggy suits.Earlier,at the turbulentbeginningofLenin’sstate, theParty’soperativeshadsignified their power by using the direct iconography of force. They woreleatherjacketsandcavalrycoats,theycarriedvisiblerevolvers.Stalin’sParty,later, dressed with a vaguely military austerity. Stalin himself had favouredplaintunics,unlimitedbybadgesofrank;at theveryendofhis life,whenhewasbeinghailedasthestrategicgeniusoftheGreatPatrioticWar,heenjoyedwearingthefantasyuniformsofanice-creamgeneralissimo.Now,bycontrast,thesymbolismwasemphaticallycivil,managerial.ThePartysuitofthe1960sdeclaredthatthewearerwasnotasoldier,notapoliceman.Hewasthepersonwho could give the soldier and the policeman orders. The philosopher kingswerebackontop.But the Soviet experiment had run into exactly the difficulty that Plato’s

admirers encountered, back in the fifth century BC, when they attempted tomould philosophical monarchies for Syracuse and Macedonia. The recipecalled for rule byheavily-armed virtue–or in the Leninist case, not exactlyvirtue,butasortofintentionallypost-ethicalcounterparttoit,self-righteouslybrutal.Wisdomwas to be setwhere it could be ruthless.Once such a systemexisted, though, thequalities required to rise in it hadmuchmore todowithruthlessness than with wisdom. Lenin’s core of original Bolsheviks, and thesocialists like Trotsky who joined them, were many of them highly educated

people, literate in multiple European languages, learned in the scholastictraditions of Marxism; and they preserved these attributes even as theymurderedandliedandtorturedandterrorised.Theyweresocialscientistswhothoughtprinciplerequiredthemtobehavelikegangsters.Buttheirsuccessors–thevydvizhentsywhorefilled theCentralCommittee in the thirties–werenotthemost selflesspeople inSoviet society,or themostprincipled,or themostscrupulous. They were the most ambitious, the most domineering, the mostmanipulative, themostgreedy, themost sycophantic;peoplewhoseadherenceto Bolshevik ideas was inseparable from the power that came with them.Graduallytheirloyaltytotheideasbecamemoreandmoreinstrumental,moreandmore amatter ofwhat the ideaswould let themgrip in their two hands.High-levelPartymeetingsbecameextravagantlyfoul-mouthedfromthe1930son,asawayofsignallingthatpracticalpeoplewerenowincharge,down-to-earthpeople:andhonestRussians too,not thosedubiousBalzac-readerswithfunnyforeignnames.‘Ladies,coveryourears!’becamethetraditionalstart-of-meetingannouncement.In a way, the surprise is that Bolshevik idealism lasted as long as it did.

Stalintookhisphilosophicalobligationsentirelyseriously.ThetimehespentinhisKremlin librarywas time spent reading.Heheld forth on linguistics, andgenetics,andeconomics,andtheproperwritingofhistory,becausehebelievedthat intellectual decision-making was the duty of power. His associates, too,tended to possess treasured collections of Marxist literature. It was one ofMolotov’s complaints, after Stalin’s death, that by sending him off to beambassador to OuterMongolia, Khrushchev had parted him from his books.AndKhrushchev,inhisturn,triedhisbesttotalklikethegreattheoreticianonemagically became by elbowing and conniving one’s way to the FirstSecretaryship. It cameeven lesseasily tohim,but the transition toutopiaby1980wasallhisownwork,andsowastheideaofpeacefulcompetitionwiththecapitalists. He was not a cynic. The idea that he might be committing animposture bothered him deeply: he worried away at it, out loud, in public,busilydenyinganddenying.Asculptordared to tellhimhedidn’tunderstandart:‘WhenIwasaminer,’hesnapped,‘theysaidIdidn’tunderstand.WhenIwasapoliticalworker in thearmy, theysaidIdidn’tunderstand.WhenIwasthis and that, they said I didn’t understand. Well, now I’m party leader andpremier,andyoumeantosayIstilldon’tunderstand?Whoareyouworkingfor,anyway?’ Stalin had been a gangster who really believed he was a socialscientist.Khrushchevwasagangsterwhohopedhewasasocialscientist.Butthemomentwasdrawingirresistiblycloserwhenthe idealismwouldrotawaybyonemoredegree,andtheSovietUnionwouldbegovernedbygangsterswho

wereonlypretendingtobesocialscientists.

*

In 1964, Khrushchev was entirely surrounded by people he had appointedhimself.Initially,hehadhadtosharepowerwiththeothersurvivorsofStalin’sinner circle. With the backing of Marshal Zhukov and the army, he andMalenkovandMolotovhadbeenabletoarrestandkillthemostdangerousoftheir colleagues, Stalin’s rapist police chief Beria. Then with Zhukov’s helpKhrushchev outmanoeuvred Malenkov and Molotov. Then he sacked Zhukov,andafterthathehadafreehand.TherivalshehadcompetedwithforStalin’sfavour were all gone. Only his ally Mikoyan remained. He restocked thePresidiumfromtheCentralCommittee,withapparatchikswhose lifehistorieshadfollowedpathslikehisown.Halfofthemwerevydvizhentsy,theotherhalfwerethepostwarequivalent.Sowhenhelookedalongthetable–atBrezhnev,Kosygin of Gosplan, Andropov, Podgorny, the rising stars Shelepin andKirichenko, the cultureminister Furtseva – he saw people he had hoisted topowerpersonally.Hehadmadethem.Theywerehis.Buthewasstartingtofrightenthem.Notinthesenseofmakingthemfearfor

their individual safety – he had banished that fear from the top of Sovietpolitics–butbecause the fervourofhis truebeliefnowseemed tobemakinghimtakebiggerandbiggerriskswithexactlytheorderofthingsexemplifiedbythebaggy, two-piecePartysuit.Hehadmadealarmingly specific,alarminglyverifiableeconomicpromises,andgiventhesepromisesaredemptiondateonlysixteenyearsaway.Itmightyetbethatthemathematicianswouldcometotherescueandwave theircyberneticwandoverGosplan,but fornow thegrowthratecontinuedtodriftongentlydown.Khrushchevhadmadeavastpublicfussover thereformofagriculture, filling thenewspaperswith his pet initiatives;now drought and falling yields had pushed the Soviet Union to the brink ofbread rationing and forced them to waste precious foreign currency onimportingwheat,tenmillionhumiliatingtonnesofit.Hehadtriedtostickhisthumbin the scales of the strategic balance by putting themissiles inCuba;andtheworldhadnearlyburned.Hewasgettingangrierandangrier,moreandmoreimpatient,moreandmorepuzzled.‘You’dthinkasfirstsecretaryIcouldchange anything in this country,’ he told Fidel Castro. ‘The hell I can! Nomatter what changes I propose and carry out, everything stays the same.Russia’slikeatubfullofdough…’Theyeastymasskeptpushingback,andallhe knew how to do was to keep trying the same methods, more and morefrantically,more andmore frenziedly, announcing new policies, rejigging the

organisationchart,tinkeringandrevising,eventothepointofmessingwiththebasis of philosophical kingship itself. He had split the Party into separateagriculturalandindustrialsections,fornoveryapparentreason.Hewastakingaway apparat privileges. He was talking about running multi-candidateelections for Party posts – although only the low-level ones. Meanwhile, helistenedless.Hemockedhiscolleaguestotheirfaces.HesentMikoyantoCubawhile his wife was dying, then failed to turn up to her funeral. He absent-mindedlyalienatedsupporteraftersupporter,tillbyOctober1964therewasasolidmajorityaroundthePresidiumtableforreplacinghim.Whichleftthequestionofwhattodoabouthispromises.

Notes–Introduction

1 The same bet that Plato had twenty-five centuries earlier: see Plato, The Republic, 473d. AsBenjamin Jowett’s 1871 translation puts it, ‘Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of thisworldhave thespiritandpowerofphilosophy,andpoliticalgreatnessandwisdommeet inone,and thosecommonernatureswhopursueeithertotheexclusionoftheotherarecompelledtostandaside,citieswillnever have rest from their evils, – nor the human race, as I believe…’ The classic twentieth-centuryphilosophicalrejoindertoPlatoisKarlPopper,TheOpenSocietyandItsEnemies(1945).

2The Party existed, its hierarchy shadowing all other hierarchies: for the Leninist justification forcadres’unlimitedauthority,seeKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,pp.664–74,754–63.Forthewaythedual structure of power left theSoviet state ‘booby-trappedwith idealism’, and the role it eventuallyplayed in the downfall of theUSSR, see StephenKotkin,Armageddon Averted: The Soviet Collapse,1970–2000(Oxford:OUP,2001).Conversely,foranargumentthatthephilosophicalkingshipoftheUSSRonlycontinuedatraditionallocalapproachtomodernisation,seeMarshallT.Poe,TheRussianMomentinWorldHistory(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,2003).

3Theyweretheagentsofhumanity’sfuture:or,inStalin’sfamousphrase,‘theengineersofhumansouls’.4Theyactedasprogress-chasers,fixers,censors,seducers:butnot,bydesign,asbureaucrats,inone

very specific sense of the word. The Soviet Union had regular campaigns against ‘bureaucracy’, hardthoughthisisforanoutsidertomakeimmediatesenseofinasystemwhereeveryemployeewasastateemployee. ‘Bureaucracy’ as a Soviet pejorative implied coldness, impersonality, slowness, trivial rule-following. Apparatchiks were supposed, by contrast, to be quick, ‘conscious’, lively, free to engage inbrilliantimprovisationtogetthejobdonebyanymeansnecessary.SeeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.28–35.Andtherewassomesupportforthismodelofpoweratthereceivingend:itwastheaimofanyonedealingwithanofficial to tryandget themselves treatedpo-chelovecheski, ‘likeahumanbeing’,on thebasis of an emotional recognition rather than some cold rule. See Ledeneva, Russia’s Economy ofFavours. The result was that Soviet bureaucracy, while pervasive, did not exhibit some of the classicfeatures of bureaucracy elsewhere. It was not predictable and rule-governed; thus, by a neat circle ofcauseandeffect, youhad to approach it personally, emotionally, looking for the individualwithwhom tomakearelationship.

5Not exactly virtue, but a sort of intentionally post-ethical counterpart to it: see Charles Taylor’scharacterisation of ‘theBolshevik stance’ as a version of disengaged liberal benevolence inwhich one’sidentity as a good person has been entirely invested in a ‘titanic control over history’.CharlesTaylor,ASecularAge(CambridgeMA:BelknapPressofHarvardUniversityPress,2007),pp.682–3.

6 High-level Party meetings became extravagantly foul-mouthed from the 1930s on: seeAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain.

7‘WhenIwasaminer,’hesnapped:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.590.8In1964,Khrushchevwasentirelysurroundedbypeoplehehadappointedhimself:forthepolitical

historyof thelastfranticmonthsofKhrushchev’sleadership,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.3–17,620–

45.For thewarning signs of the approachingputsch,whichSergeiKhrushchev tried to get his father tonotice,seethefirsttwochaptersofSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev:AnInsideAccountoftheManandHisEra,editedandtranslatedbyWilliamTaubman(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1990).Forthe shifting mood in the Presidium among Khrushchev-made figures such as Andropov, see Burlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring,pp.196-203.

9‘You’dthinkasfirstsecretaryIcouldchangeanythinginthiscountry’:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.598.

Onceaturnipsaid,‘Itasteverygoodwithhoney.’‘Getaway,youboaster,’repliedthehoney.‘Itastegoodwithoutyou.’

TradingDown,1964TheZilhaddisappearedinthenightandsohadthefamiliarbodyguards.Thenewguardcaptainstoppedhiminthewetgrassbythegaragedoor.‘You’rethedriver,right?’hesaid.‘Notmuchuselookinginthere,I’mafraid.’Hecrankedup thegaragedooranyway,and lookedat thebareconcretefloor

wheretheZilhadbeenparked.Hisworkbenchlookedsmallagainsttherearwallwithoutthebigblackbulkofthelimofillingthespace.TheZilwasamarvellouscar.ItwasacopyoftheCadillacEldorado.Inthewholecountry,onlythreemenwereentitledtorideinone.Whichmeantthatwhenhedrovetheboss,hewasoneofonlythreepeoplegettingtofeeltheburblingsurgewhenyougaveitssix-litreenginesomegas,oneofonlythreegettingtoguideitschromedimmensitydownthehighway’sspeciallane.Whichhadmeantthat.‘Toobad,’saidthecaptain.Thedriverlookedathim,expectingatasteofthe

impersonalrelishwithwhich,onthewhole,bystanderswatchthegreatgodown,andtheirretinuewiththem:paybacktimeforlordingitbefore.Buthedidn’tseemtobeenjoyinghimself,particularly.‘There’llbeareplacementalonganyminute.It’sonthedaysheet.’Therewere new faces in the guard box by the gate, and a couple ofmen he

didn’tknowoverbythefrontdoorofthemainhouse.Butthestrangestthingwashowquietthingswere,thismorning.Theairwasscarcelymoving,justthelightestlittleautumnbreeze.Thebirchesalongthepathbythehighyellowwalltrembledwhere they stood. The sad red leaves of the cherry trees trembled where theydrooped.ThenoiseofMoscowbeyondthewallseemedfurtherawaythanusual.Bynow,oneveryotherdaythatthebosshadlivedhere,therewouldhavebeenavortexofbustleemanatingfromthehouse.MrK.wouldalreadyhavebeenonthesteps,lookingathiswatch,talkingnineteentothedozentoastenographerwhileMrsK.straightenedhistie,drawingintotheknotofpeoplearoundhimtributarystreams from the households of the other high-ups in the leadership compound,who had come through the connecting door in the tall yellowwall to snatch amomentofhistimebeforetheridetotheKremlin.AndtheZilwouldhavebeenwaitingforhimatthebottomofthesteps,purring,itsbrightworkimmaculate,itsleathersoft, ready togo.Theboss liked tobeonhiswayat8.30sharp;andhealwayswas,eveninmidwinter,evenonthereallycolddayswhenthedriverroseatsixintheiron-harddarktowarmtheZil’sengineblockwithablow-lamp.Buttoday thedoorsof thehouse stayedclosed.Themany telephones inside itwere

silent. One of the new securitymen over therewas even smoking, perhaps notknowinghowmuchthebossdetestedthesmell.Orperhapsnotcaring.‘Yes,hereweare,’ said the captain.Thebarrierwas rising.A long shape in

black and silver nosed through the gate. A Chaika: this was not so bad. TheChaikawasafinecar.ItwasacopyofthePackardPatrician.Itdidnotquitehavethebroad,overwhelmingpresenceoftheZil,withtheradiatorgrillewrappingallthewayacrossthefrontfendertotheheadlights.ItwasnotquitethebargeofstatetheZilwas.Butitstillhadmuscle,itstillhademinence.IftheZilwastransportforthehighestpowers,theChaikawasthenextstepdown,themagic-carpetridefor the rest of thePresidium, and for regional chiefs.The stylisedwings of theseagull itwasnamed for spread, shining,across thegrille.Thebigblackhood,between humped tunnels for the lights, stretched back and back. Really, thingscouldbeworse.TheChaikaonlylacked10kphoftheZil’stopspeed;stillspeedenoughtofeelthemetalfly.Oneofhiscolleaguesfromthemotorpoolwasatthewheel–gotoutwitheyes

averted,andsteppedaway,oncethepaperworkwassigned,asfastasifhestoodonpoisonedground.Thedriver ignoredhim, took jealouspossession,eased theChaikathroughthegaragedoors.Thenhetookinventory.Hesquintedatthepolishjob, checkedout the tyres.He found flecksof chippingpaintbeside thechromerails that ran along the sides, swooping and rising again, gull-like, on the reardoors. Therewas autumnmud spatter on the side panels and the tail. Salt hadcorrodedtheundersidealittle,nothingtoobad.Hepoppedthehood.Sparksallright,theV8alittleworn-looking;again,nothingtoobad,buttheChaikahadnotbeencherished,thatwasclear.Ithadcomestraightfromthegeneralservicepool.Well,hethought,awashandapolishandanoilchange,ataminimum.Thenwe’llsee.Heputonhisoveralls.Hewasonhisbackonthedolly-board,undertheChaika,whenhefeltapolite

tap on his ankle. He slid out. It was the guard captain again, expression stillneutral;butthemotor-poolcolleaguewasbacktoo,andhewasopenlysmirking.‘Sorry,’saidthecaptain.‘Changeofplan.’Hefinishedtheoilchange–hadto,ortheChaikawasn’tdriveable–andthen

watched it driven away, rising and dipping over the bump by the guard box,showing a last gleam of its black flank as it turned onto the VorobyovskoeChausseé.‘Somebodychangedtheirmind?’hesaid.‘I’dsay,’saidthecaptain.InplaceoftheChaika,hehadnowbeenbroughtaVolga.Italsowasblack:but

whatadifference. Itwasacar,on thewhole, forpeoplewhodrove themselvesaround:obkomthirdsecretaries,raikomchairmen,factoryaccountants.Thousands

ofthemwereinuseastaxis.Itwasevenforsaletothepublic,ifyouhadthelifeexpectancyrequiredtosurvivethewaitinglist.Thedriverstaredatit.Itwasnotabadcar.ItwasacopyoftheFordCrestline.ButcomparedtotheZilitwasatincan.Andwhowastosaythathewouldevenbetheonedrivingit?‘ComradeCaptain,’saidthedriver,formally,‘mayIaskifadecisionhasbeen

madeaboutthepersonalstaff?’‘Ihaven’theardanything.’Thedriverconsidered. ‘Excuseme,’hesaid.Thecaptainnodded.Thedriver

tookoffhisoverallsandwentintothehousebytheservants’entrance.Perhapsbythetimehecameback,theVolgawouldhavemetamorphosedintoaMoskvitch.Orabicycle.Inthekitchenhefoundthecookunnaturallyatrest,sittingonastoolbesidethe

tableandgazingattheremainsofthefamily’sbreakfast,bythelookofithardlytouched.Inhereshehadpreparedthebanquetfor theboss’sseventiethbirthday.She had made canapés for the President of Finland and the Chinese ForeignMinister.Shehadhadaccesstothebestscrapsinthecountry;whatMrK.ate,herhusbandatetwonightslater.‘Heardanything?’askedthedriver.‘No,’shesaid.Shemightnotbeinthesameboatashim.Shehadbeencooking

forMrK.since’54,hehadbeendrivingforhimsince’48,butitmightwellbethatshestayedwiththehousewhilehefollowedtheman,orviceversa.‘Anychanceofadrink?’hesaidexperimentally.‘Inthecupboard,’shesaid.‘Youcanpourmeonetoo.’Theydrainedaglasseach.‘Theysayhedidn’tfight,’shesaid.‘Justgaveitup.’Thedrivergrunted.Nooneknewhowthiswassupposedtogo,thisso-called

retirement.There had hardly ever been one before.The big bosses died on thejob,orgotarrested.Theydidn’t–theyhadn’t–takenapensionandsteppedintoobscurity, before. Everyone understood how the old style of fall dragged ahousehold along with it, wife and relatives and aides and staff, circling theplugholetheirvozhdhadgonedown;butwhatkindofsuctionhadthisnewfate?Wherewouldtheybegoing,becausethebosshaddecidednottofight?Thedrinkhadmuzzedtheedgeofanxiety,atleast.Hewentbackoutside.The

Volgawasstill there.Someonewasmakingapointwith it,heguessed.There’dbeenafussalittlewhilebackwhenthebosshadhadaneconomydriveandtriedto cut down the number of limos the apparat used; it was going to be Volgas,Volgas,Volgasallthewayforallthemiddle-sizedcadresaroundthecountry.Let’sseehowyoulikeit,someonewassaying.He had better clean the damn thing.Hewas just getting the bucketwhen the

frontdoorofthehouseopened,andeveryoneintheyardturnedandlooked.Thebosscameout,withhis sonholdinganarmunderhis elbowandseeming tobeguiding him. Mr K. looked grey in the face, and stunned – the muscles slackaround his mouth and his eyes. He moved uncertainly. To the driver, he hadalwaysbeen theembodimentofpower, thickforefingerstabbing theair tomakehispoints,ortheshoulderofthepersonhewastalkingto;voicetheloudestinanyroom.Suddenlyafatoldmanwasstandinginhisplace.Fatandtentative.Hehadhis pants hoisted up over his belly like a peasant grandad come to town. Thedriver threwthedrychamois inhishandinto theemptybucket; ithit thebottomwithanangryclang.Theguardcaptaintrottedover.HewasmuchtallerthanMrK.,buthebenthis

headrespectfully.‘Good morning, Nikita Sergeyevich,’ he said. ‘Melnikov, your new

kommendant.Youdon’trememberme,butIworkedinthegovernmentboxattheSportsPalace.Iusedtoseeyouthere.Whatareyourorders?’HewavedhishandattheVolga.‘Perhapsyou’dliketotakeadrivetoyourdacha?’‘Hello,’ said the boss, leadenly. He shook Melnikov’s hand. ‘You’ve got a

tediousjobcutoutforyou.I’maloafernow.Idon’tknowwhattodowithmyself.You’llwasteawayfromboredomwithme.Butyoumayberight.Whysitaroundhere?Let’sgo.’And they all piled into the Volga, Khrushchev and his son the aeroplane

engineer intheback,Melnikovinfrontnext tothedriver.TheVolgawasafair-sizedsedan,butitwasnolimousine,andthecarfeltveryfullwiththefourmenpackedintoit.EveryonewassqueezedtogethermorethanMrK.wasusedto.Thedriversawhim,inthemirror,movinghisshouldersaroundandglancingfromsidetosideinasurprisedway,likeananimalinanunfamiliarenclosure.Thedriverfumbledwiththekeys.Thetruthwas,hehadgrownusedtothebeautifulautomaticgearboxontheZil.Itwasawhilesincehehaddrivenastickshift.Hetriedhisbest,buttherewasagrindandascrapeashepulledoutthroughthearchontotheVorobyovskoeChaussée.Thehoodwasmuchshorterthanhewasusedto,too,andsloped downmore.Virtually straight in front of him, just over the leaping stagornamentof theGazcompany,hecouldseeeverycrack in theasphaltgoingby.Andfeelthem:theVolgawasn’tsprung,likeaZiloraChaika,tocancelouttheroadsurface.Aroundthecorner,uptothejunctionwiththepredictablesurrealismofMosfilmskaya Street where, today, a party of extras dressed in SS uniformswerechattingtoringlettedladiesinballgowns.Andhestalledatthelights!Thestarter motor chugged fruitlessly, he pumped at the choke, and the engine onlystartedasthelightsturnedbacktored.Whentheywentgreen,theVolga,released,boundedforwardsinaseriesofhumiliatinghiccoughs.

‘Whataballs-up!’hemuttered,meaningmorethanthejunction.‘Steadyon,’saidMelnikov,lookingathimsharply.‘Leavehimbe,’saidtheboss,fromthebackseat.Then over the river bridges, and northward out of town. He was suddenly

unsurewhethertousethespeciallane,butMelnikovmadenoface,gavenosignal,soheswungacrossbetweenthewhitelinesofprivilege,andputhisfootdown.TheVolgaacceleratedwithaplaintivewhine.At thedacha,Melnikovpolitely tried towalkbehindtheKhrushchevsas they

tookMr K.’s favourite walk, but the boss summoned him forward. The driverleantagainst thecarandwatched themgo,over to thebrook, thenacross to thecornfields of the state farmnext door.MrK.’s hands rose; hebegan to gesture;without a doubt, he was lecturing to Melnikov about the proper cultivation ofmaize.Hewashimself.Butabruptlyhishandsdroppedtohissidesandheshrankagain.Afteramomentheturnedaway,andcamepickinghiswaybacktowardthecar,inthepaleautumnsun.Theothertwofollowedmoreslowly,Melnikov’sheadattentivelyinclined.MrK.arrivedandleantagainstthecarnexttothedriver.‘Nooneneedsmenow,’hesaidtotheairstraightinfrontofhim.‘WhatamI

goingtodowithoutwork?HowamIgoingtolive?’Itwasunbearableseeinghimsoreduced.Thedriverpulledouthiscigarettes.‘Wouldyoucareforasmoke,NikitaSergeyevich?’heasked.‘I’velostmyjob,notmysenses,’thebosssnapped.‘Putthatcrapaway.’Thatwasbetter.

Notes–V.1TradingDown,1964

1TheZilhaddisappearedinthenight:thoughthechauffeurhimselfisfictional,thesequenceofappearinganddisappearingcarsonthedayafterKhrushchev’sfallfrompowerisentirelyfactual.Foradescriptionofthatdayonwhich this chapterdrawsheavily, seeSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev, pp.165–9.SeealsoTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.620–1.

2 It was a copy of theCadillac Eldorado: the American originals for the Zil, Chaika and Volga are allauthentic.TheSovietcarindustryhadbeenfoundedinthe1930swiththeimportofacompleteBuick/Fordproductionline, includingAmericanengineerstoactasconsultants,andSovietautomobiledesignwasstillveryimitativeofAmericanmodels,thoughnotalwaysonaneatone-to-onebasis.SomeSovietcarscopiedseveraldifferentAmericancars atonce.Later,with theestablishmentof thegiantplant tobuildFiats atTolyatti on the Volga, the American influence was diluted, and by the 1980s the Soviet Union had adistinctiveautomotivestyleofitsown,thoughwithoutanythingapproachingtheidiosyncrasyoftheCzechTatra marque or the cardboard-chassised Trabant in the GDR. But then, both East Germany andCzechoslovakiahadhad indigenousmotor industriesof theirownbefore theSecondWorldWar.Middle-class consumerswho cannot affordGerman or Japanese imports continue to buyVolgas in present-dayRussia.Foraroll-callofmodels,withphotographs,seewww.autosoviet.com.

3 It had come straight from the general-service pool: I have no knowledge of the Kremlin’s carpoolarrangements,andthisisguesswork.

4ButcomparedtotheZilitwasatincan:thechauffeurisbeingsnottyintheextremeabouttheGazM-21

Volga,whichmostSovietcitizenscoveted,andwhichisnowrecalledbyRussiansintheirfiftiesandsixtieswith thekindofnostalgia that thechromedmonstersofDetroit rouseup inAmericansof the sameage.TherearenumerousM-21fansitesontheinternet.

5Metamorphosed into aMoskvitch.Orabicycle: theMoskvich 400, produced from1946 to 1964 byMZMA, theMoscowFactory forSmallDisplacementAutomobiles,closely resembled the1938modeloftheOpelKadett.Thiswasbecause itwasmanufacturedwith the tooling for the1938Kadett,which theRedArmyhad captured intact during the advance intoGermany.But after 1964 itwas redesignedwith‘sleekmodern lines’, and theMoskvich 412 evenwon a small export following amongbudget-consciousWesternmotorists.Thankstosternruleslimitingthevalueoftheprizesthatcouldbeofferedontelevisionin Britain, the star prize in the early 1970s on the British TV gameshow Sale of the Century wasfrequently a 412 in bright orange. See Andrew Roberts, ‘Moscow Mule’, The Independent MotoringSectionp.7,11October2005.

6ShehadmadecanapésforthePresidentofFinland:this,theseventiethbirthdaypartyandthereceptionfortheChineseForeignMinisterwereallrealoccasions,butthecookherselfisimaginary.

7‘Goodmorning,NikitaSergeyevich,’hesaid: the realwordsof the realSergeiMelnikov, fromSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev.Melnikovappearstohavetriedtotreatthefallenleaderwithasmuchdignityaspossible,andwas fireda fewyears intoKhrushchev’s retirement for showingexcessivesympathy.Khrushchev’sreplyisword-for-wordaccurateaswell.

8‘Nooneneedsmenow,’hesaidtotheairstraightinfrontofhim:arealutteranceofKhrushchev’sonthatfirststunnedday,butaddressedto‘nooneinparticular’,notachauffeur.

Ladies,CoverYourEars!1965Emil splashed his headwith coldwater from the basin and chased the stingingrivuletsdownthebaredomeofhisscalp.Hehadsunburn.Hisskullwasabakedegg, hideouslypink,with limpwingsof curl on each side.Usually, he flatteredhimself,hisearlybaldnesslookeddistinguished;aformofcerebraldisplay,even,showingoffthesmoothcasingofthemindthathadmadehim,whilestillsoyoung,the head of a lab, the head of an institute, a corresponding member of theAcademy. Women didn’t seem to mind the change. And students, if anything,deferred to him more. But now he seemed suddenly ridiculous to himself. Hemoppedhimselfwitha towel.Insectswhosenameshestillhadnoideaofwerebelting out themusic of July in themeadow around the government dacha, andfrom the main room came the equally tireless buzz of the minister’s aides,amplifying whatever it was they took to be the minister’s mood just at thismoment.Heblottedhiseyebrows.Heshouldgobackin.Hehadfeltsurestraightaway,lastyear,thatKhrushchev’sfallwassomething

towelcome.This timearound, itwasquitepossible to imagineotherstates thattheworldmightbein;andfromeverythingheheardthroughhisMoscowcontacts,ithadbecomeurgentthattheworldbeputintoastatewhereMrK.wasnolongerincharge,becausethecrazinesswasgettingoutofhand,andsomethingneededtobedonetoprotectthereformagendafromitsownerraticpatron.Ataskwiththedelicacyofreformingtheplanningsystemrequiredasafepairofhands.RumourhaditthattowardstheendMrK.hadslippedintorealpuce-facedspittle-streakedraving– threatening toabolish theRedArmy, theAcademyofSciences,heavenknowswhat.Sowhenhewent theoverwhelmingsensationwas relief.ThenewPresidium, led by Brezhnev and Kosygin, immediately confirmed that themainlines of policy would not change. Only what the Pravda editorial called the‘harebrained schemes’ would disappear. The new men exuded a deliberate,welcomecalm.Youare ruled, they indicated, byprofessionals now, steady andbusinesslikepeoplewhowillnottripthecountryuponabananaskinandpitchitdown an open manhole cover. The clowning was over. No more of that crassvoice on the radio, talking on and on,making grammatical errors at the rate ofapproximatelyonepersentence.NomorespeechesinwhichMrK.toldgeneralshowtofightwars,novelistshowtowritebooksandplumbershowtofixpipes.Or,worse,inwhichhetoldgeneticistshowtodogenetics.Itwasgoodbyetothesnorter, the ranter, the joker, the table-pounder. Goodbye to the man who you

always felt might break wind while addressing the United Nations, and wouldprobably guffaw if he did. Even the movies got better, in the months afterKhrushchev fell.A backlog of good stuff had built up, it turned out,which hadfallenfoulonewayoranotherofMrK.’srecentculturalbrainstorms,andnowouttheycame,releaseafterrelease.AtthepicturehouseinAkademgorodok,Emilsatinthecrowdeddarkwithstudentsandscientistsandwatchedthesmoke-billowedbundleofblueraysoverhisheadpaintthescreenagainwithrecognisablelife.Itfeltasifhopefultimeswereback.Onlya coupleof thingsgavehimpause.Small things; crumbsof straw lifted

anddroppedagainbeforeyoucoulddecidewhethertherewasatruecurrentintheair or just stray gusts. Directly after the switchover, a peculiar and discordantpiecehadbeenprintedinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,warningeconomists‘nottocommentondecisionsthathavealreadybeentaken’.Acalltoorder,clearly,butwhy?Itwasthereformistlinethathadbeendecidedon.Andthen,thisyear,justasthebuildingworkatAkademgorodokwasmoreorlessfinished,therecameareorganisationofthelaceworkofPartycommitteeswithinalltheinstitutes.Now,insteadofreportingtotheAcademy’sownmainPartycommitteefortheSiberiansection,theyallanswereddirectlytothedistrictcommitteeofthetown.Itdidn’tsound like much, and it was done very quietly and unemphatically, but if youconsidereditsuspiciously,itwastruethatitwouldhavetheeffectofcuttingoutthelayersofscientiststhroughwhichdirectivesusedtohavetogo.Itstoppedthescholarsfrompolicingthemselves.Hehadputoutfeelersbutagainthereseemedtobenosignofanyintentiontousethenewstructureforanyparticularpurpose.Itmightjustbeoneoftheperiodicassertionsofcontrolthesystemwasproneto;asignaltotightenupgeneratedalmostvegetatively.WhereveritcamefromitwascertainlyfarmorebenignthansomefrenziedattackontheactualexistenceoftheAcademy,andEmilhadtosay,nowthathewasoneoftheinstitutedirectorswhoranthetown,thathehadnothimselfbeeninconveniencedorinterferedwithinanyway.Hemighthaveworriedmoreifhehadnotbeensoexcited.Formonths,hehad

been in a condition of trembling anticipationwhich felt very similar to anxiety.Whenhewokeupinthemorning,thereitwas,atautnessinhischest,grippingonagainwithalurchasifitwerebadnewsnotgoodthatherememberedaneweachdayandcarriedwithhimtothesluicingwateroftheshower,tothebreakfasttablewiththechildren,tothewalktoworkunderthebigtrees.(FornowthathewasacorrespondingmemberandsotospeakhalfwaytofullAcademician-hood,hehadbeenassignedexactlyhalfahouseforthefamily,andlivednearLeonidVitalevichamong the foxgloves and the tall Siberian grasses.) He couldn’t have talkedhimselfoutofhisexcitementifhe’dwantedto.Howcouldyourheartnotrace,to

know that the consummation of yourworking lifewas rushing on towards you,closer and closer? This was the time, this was the year, this was themoment,when history at last sent out the call for the conscious arrangers; and it just sohappenedthatithadcomewhenhehadhimselfrisenhighenoughtoanswer,whenhewasknownintheland,asaname,asanewstaroftheAcademy,asthepublicfaceofthenewlymathematisedeconomics.IthadgrownclearerandclearerthatKosygin was serious about the upcoming reform of the economy. When goodreports came back, in December, from an experiment in letting clothing storesdetermine the output of two textile factories, Kosygin instantly extended theexperimenttofourhundredfactories,bang,justlikethat.WhenhegaveaspeechonthereformtoGosplaninMarch,hesoundedlikeoneofEmil’sowncircle.‘Wehavetofreeourselvescompletely’,hesaid,‘fromeverythingthatusedtotiedowntheplanningofficialsandobligedthemtodraftplansotherwisethaninaccordancewiththeinterestsof theeconomy.’Awaywithideologyat last,andat last, in itsplace,ablankslateonwhichtowritethetechnicalsolutionforplenty.Andatthesametime,gloriously,itwasgrowingclearerandclearerthatofall

the various reform proposals, only the Akademgorodok group’s was still acontender.Abeautiful paper at the endof last year had skeweredAcademicianGlushkov’shypercentralisedrivalschemeforanall-seeing,all-knowingcomputerwhich would rule the physical economy direct, with no need for money. Theauthorhadsimplycalculatedhow long itwould take thebestmachinepresentlyavailabletoexecutetheneedfulprogram,iftheSovieteconomyweretakentobeasystem of equations with fifty million variables and five million constraints.Roundaboutahundredmillionyears,wastheanswer.Beautiful.Sotheonlygameintown,now,wastheirowncivilised,decentralisedideaforoptimalpricing,inwhichshadowpricescalculatedfromopportunitycostswouldharmonisetheplanwithoutanyoneneedingtopossessimpossiblycompleteinformation.Thesignalsfrom on high all showed that Kosygin accepted the logic. The minister hadlistenedtotheargumentsof themathematicaleconomists, theministerwasusingthelanguageofthemathematicaleconomists,theministermeanttoactontheideasof themathematical economists. Daily, Emil expected the call to come, for thereformwaspalpablyunderconstructionwithinGosplanbynow,andthetimewasshorttogettheeconomistsinvolved.Yetthecallhadnotcome,andnotcome,andnotcome,rightthroughthespring,

whilehefelttheclampofhopetightenhischesteveryday.Andthen,surprisinglylate in the game, it had: an invitation to Moscow, to consult with MinisterKosygin.The invitationhad left roomforLeonidVitalevich tocomealong ifhechose. They had decided he’d better not, for obvious reasons. And Emil hadboarded the plane with a briefcase full of position papers and a head full of

persuasivearguments,andflownwest.Andhehadbeenmetattheairportinstyle,andchaufferedoutofroastingMoscowtothecountryretreatwhereKosygindidbusiness in summertime. And he had been greeted warmly. And now he wasbaffled.

*

Emilfeltthestingofburntskintightenagainonhisforeheadtheminutehesteppedback into the dacha’s main room, but the minister looked as cool and self-contained as ever, in his seat at the front of the three rows of chairs facing theblackboard. The screen door out onto the verandah was open to let the aircirculate,buttheairwouldnotoblige.Ithunginplace,thickandstill,flavouredby the wheatfields outside with a smell like bakery dust. Yet the white of theminister’sshirthadnotcrumpled;theblackknotofhistiewasdrawnuphighandtightunderhisgrizzled chin.AlexeiNikolaevichKosyginwas aneat old, solidold,dryoldpol,withdeeplinesrunningfromhisnosetotheoutsidecornersofhisupperlip,whichliftedhischeeks,whenhesmiled,intolittlesardonicbunchesofmuscleasroundasbilliardballs.Hesatathiseasewithanarmalongthebackof the empty wooden chair next to him and gazed at Emil with a bright-eyedcuriosity. He was supposed to be very intelligent, for a commissar, and Emilbelieved it.Youcould imaginehimeasilyenoughas the factory foremanhehadoncebeen,solongasyoupicturedhimwearingoverallsjustthewayheworehissuit now: as a costume, within which the man himself remained detached andobservant.‘Are you ready to resume?’ said an aide, contriving to suggest thatEmil had

pausedthemeetingforhoursratherthanminutes.Perhapshislongexperienceofthe minister enabled him to detect the tiniest trace quantities of impatience inKosygin:Emilcouldn’tseeany,thoughwhathecouldseewasbadenough.‘Youwerejusttellingus,Professor,’saidKosygin,‘howwehadgoteverything

wrong.’‘Ofcoursenot–’‘Good,’ said Kosygin, ‘because so far as I can see, the measure as we’ve

outlinedittoyoucontainsalmostnothingyoudidn’trecommend.Thiswouldbeapeculiarmomenttochangeyourmind,don’tyouthink?’Theaidessnickered.Hecounted off on his pale hand. ‘An interest rate to allow the future benefit ofinvestment decisions to be properly discounted.Yes.Anewway of calculatingenterpriseprofitswhichincludesarentchargeforusingmachineryandresources.Yes.Planfulfilmenttobebasedonprofits,notonphysicaloutput.Yes.Allideaspromotedbyyourgroup.Sowhatisityoudon’tlike?Whatstupiditydoyouthink

youhavecaughtusoutin?’‘None at all, Minister. Of course not,’ said Emil. ‘These are all excellent

practicalapplicationsofmathematicaleconomics.’‘Thankyousomuch,’saidKosygin.Theaideslaughed.‘It’sjustthatsomethingismissing;somethingessential.’‘Yes?Goon.’‘Well,’saidEmil,tryingnottolecture,‘it’saquestionof…rationality.Whyis

itadvantageoustoshiftourplanningfromthequantityofanenterprise’soutputtotheprofittheenterprisemakes?Becauseprofitisabettermeasureofhowusefultheoutput is, aswell asofhowefficiently theenterpriseworks.AsourLeonidVitalevichhasputit,“anoptimalplanisbydefinitionaprofitableplan”.’‘Yes,yes,’saidKosygin.‘Thatargumentiswon.Moveon.What’syourpoint?’‘Mypoint,Minister,isthatthisisonlytrueundercertainconditions.Profitonly

givesarationalindicationofsuccessifitis,itself,generatedfromsellinggoodsatrationalprices.Wewillbetellingenterprisestomaximisetheirprofits.Atthesametimewewillbetellingthemtosupplythegoodstheircustomersrequire.Butthey will only be able to do both these things at once if the goods in greatestdemandarepricedsothattheygivethegreatestprofit;otherwise,theywillhaveachoicebetweengivingthecustomerswhattheywantandfailingtoearntheprofitlevelintheirplan,ormeetingtheirplannedprofittargetbypalmingoffthemostprofitable goods on the customer,whether theywant themor not. Profit is onlyrational if price is rational. I cangiveyou an example,’ saidEmil, and flippedthroughhisnotebook,hisfingersleavingmoistsmearsonthecornersofthepages.‘Take the experiment at the Bolshevichka andMayak factories last year. TherewasareportinJanuaryinEkonomicheskayaGazeta–’‘Ireadit.’‘Of course, Minister. Then perhaps you remember the section about profits.

During the six-month period when the factories produced only what the storesordered, sales went up, but profits actually went down, compared to the sixmonths before. At the Bolshevichka plant, from 1.66 million roubles to 1.29million; at theMayakplant, from3.15million to2.3million.Andas the reportpointedout, thiswasnotbecauseofanydefect in theworkof the twoplants. Itwas entirely a phenomenonof irrational pricing. It turned out, for instance, thatvirtuallyidenticalmen’ssuits–thesamesize,madeofthesamecloth–hadquitedifferentprices.’‘Youreallywanttotalkaboutthepriceoftrousers?’askedKosygin.Theaides

begantolaughagain,buthehelduphishandforquiet,andwenton,‘Idon’tseeaseriousproblemhere,Professor.Thesearethelittledifficultiesofachangefromonerulebooktoanother,surely;nothingmore.Theymaymakeforabumpyridein

theshortrun,butthepricerevisionscheduledfor’67willironthemout.YoucanbeassuredthatwhenthePriceBureaureviewstheretailandwholesaleliststheywill take all this into account. That’s what the run-in period is for. Now, let’smoveon.Whatisthenextitemofyour,ah,critique?’‘I’m sorry,’ said Emil with a flustered tenacity, ‘but I have to insist on this

point.Irrationalpricingisnotatransitionaldifficulty.Itisafundamentalissue.I’dthoughtthiswasunderstood.Itwon’tgoawaybyitself,anditcan’tbedealtwithby the Price Bureau. There are hundreds of thousands of commodities in thespecifiedclassifications.Howisacommittee–forgiveme,howiseventhebest-informed committee going to knowwhat price point for all thosemyriad thingswillreflect thetruestateof thepossibilitiesofproducingeachone,andthetrueneed foreachone? It’s impossible, it’squite impossible.And theconsequencesarenottrivial!Ifmanagershaveonlyprofittoguidethem,butpricesdonotgivethem reliable information about the priorities of the plan as a whole, then theprioritiesof theplanasawholewillnotbemaintained.OutputwillwanderoffGodknowswhere.’‘We’vethoughtofthat,’saidoneoftheaides.‘That’swhywe’remodifyingthe

production-to-order system before extending it to the whole economy. Detailedselectionswillstillcomefromcustomers,butthetotalvolumeoftheenterprise’soutputwillnowbesetbyGosplan.’‘What?’saidEmil.‘ThetotalvolumeofoutputwillbesetbyGosplan,andrawmaterialswillbe

centrallyallocated,asbefore.’‘But…thatdefeatstheentireobjectofthereform,’saidEmil,whosehandshad

risenallbythemselvesandwerenowclaspedoverthesoreapexofhishead,asifincredulitymightpopthetopoffhiscranium,ifhedidn’tholditon.‘Whatonearthdoyoumeanbythat?’saidKosygin.Hisfacewastooimpassive

tobestartled,buthiseyebrowshadrisen;andaroundhim,theaideswereactingoutastonishment.‘Minister,’saidEmil.‘Minister!Ifyoureimposecontrolofthatkind,youwill

haveasystemwhosecomponentsfightagainsteachother.Partofthesystemwillencouragemanagerstothinkintermsofprofit,andpartofitwillencouragethemto think in theoldway, aboutgettingholdofmaterialswhatever theycost.Andthey’llknowthattheycan’tdoboth,sothey’llreckonupwhichismostimportant.They’llsaytothemselves,“Profitisallverynice,butifwehavetostopthelinebecause the aluminium has run out, thenwe’ll really be in trouble.” So they’llconcentrate their efforts on supply problems, and the reformed elements of thesystemwillshrivelanddie.They’llsloughofflikeasnakeskin,Minister.’‘Professor,Professor,’saidKosygin.‘That’salittlehysterical,don’tyouthink?

Thereare alwaysmultiple factors for amanager to consider. It’s a complicatedworld.Andyouadmityourself,somekindofguidanceisnecessary,orthere’snotellingwhetherthey’llproducewhattheplanrequires.’‘Yes,’saidEmildesperately, ‘butImeant,give themguidancebygiving them

prices which make sense. We have done the work on this, Minister. Themathematicsisclear.Itisperfectlyfeasibletocalculateapriceforeveryproductwhichreflectsitsvaluetotheplan.Thenallthemanagerhastodoistomakethebiggestprofithecan,atthoseprices,andhisoutputisguaranteedtoaccordwiththeplan.It’sautomatic!Ithought’,hesaidagain,‘thatthiswasunderstood.’Hishandsweredownfromhishead,andweremakingbigferventsweepsashe

spoke: not very urbane. Kosygin’s hands were up too, tapping one set of dryfingertipsagainsttheother.Buthesaidnothing.‘It’strue,’addedEmil,‘thatthepriceswouldhavetobeactive.They’dhaveto

berecalculatedfrequently–’‘Likethepricesinamarketeconomy,’saidoneoftheaides.‘No!’saidEmil.‘Thiswouldbeanalternativetoamarketeconomy.Theprices

wouldrepresentgenuinesocialutility.Andcalculatingthemwouldbewellwithinthe powers of existing technology. We have the software ready! Most of it,anyway.ThisisnotlikeGlushkov’sscheme–’Hestopped.Smileshadappearedonthefacesoftheaideswhichmadeithorriblyplainthat,tothem,optimalpricingwasindeedjustlikeGlushkov’sscheme.Tap,tap,tapwentKosygin’sfingers.Thenhesaid:‘It’s a very pretty idea. Very clever. But not practical. Not a serious

proposition.’‘Youhaven’tevenconsideredit,’saidEmil,wonderingly.‘Haveyou?’‘Watchyourtone,Professor,’saidKosyginsharply.‘Idon’tanswertoyou.’The

aideshissed.Kosygin’smouth,whichhad thinned toa flat line,curledupwardsintohissmile.Hischeeksbunched.‘Really,howcanweconsiderit?’hewenton,as if Emil ought to be able to share the absurdity of the idea. ‘How can wepossiblytakeyouseriouslywhenyou’re tellingusweshouldletamachinetakeoverajobassensitiveasdecidingprices?’‘Withintheboundsyousetintheplan!’‘Pfft,’saidKosygin.‘Asifpeoplewouldblamethemachineandnotus,whenit

suddenlydoubledthepriceofheatingoilinDecember.Sorry,no.We’lljusthavetomuddlealongwiththepriceswe’vegot.We’renotgoingtotearupaworkingsystemforthesakeofsomelittletheoreticalgaininefficiency.Now,moveon. Idon’tknowwhyyou’vegotsuchabeeinyourbonnetaboutthisonedetailofthereform,andIdon’tmuchcare.IdoknowthatIdon’twanttohearanymoreaboutfuckingprices.Moveon.’

‘It’snotadetail,’saidEmil,withawretchedstubbornness.‘Thewrongpriceswillruineverything.’Kosyginsighed.‘Oh,Professor,’hesaid.‘Youhavenoideawhatthewrongpricecando.’‘Ihavenoidea?’saidEmil.‘Ihavenoidea?’Theaidesgasped.‘Ithinkyouhadbetterleavetheroom,’saidKosygin,slowandsteadyandcalm

asaglacier.

*

OhGod,whathaveIdonetomyself?thoughtEmil,leaningonhiselbowsonthewoodenbalustradeof theverandahwithhishandsclutched tohis sore temples.And:Whatthehellisgoingon?Thetwothoughtsscrambledovereachother,likepuppies ina too-narrowbox,each trying tobe theuppermost.Thesecuritymenhad stirredwhen he came stumbling out and pitched up against the railing; onespokeintoawalkie-talkie.Whatevertheanswerwas,itmadetheagentlaugh,andtheringofsuitedmusclehaddispersedagain,backtotheshadeofthetreesandofthe parked limousines. The wild-looking professor was to be left alone. Emilstareddownat the longyellowgrasswhere the sun roared, and tried tocollecthimself.Hesawvistasofdisgraceamongthedrystalks.Afterawhilethevoicesinsidechangedtempo,backfromthespikesofshock

andoutragetothesine-wavehumofbusinessbeingtransacted.Theyweregoingonwithouthim.Presumablysomeonewouldcomeouttotellhimhisfatewhenthemeetingended.Emil tookouthiscigarettesandshakily tappedafilter tipoutofthe pack; then the screen door clicked. He stood up straight and scrubbed hishands against the pockets of his jacket, accidentally rubbing the unlit smoke hewasholdingintoamessoftornpaperandtobacco,butthemancomingoutmadepacifyingflapsofhislonghandsathim,andcametoleanagainsttherailbesidehim,almostcompanionably.Hewastheblackbeanpoleofafellow,fiftyishorso,thin to the point of emaciation, who had sat in the back row during Emil’shumiliation,hislegsspiderishlytuckedup.SofarasEmilremembered,hehadnotspokenandnor,probably,hadhesnickered.‘Mokhov;Gosplan,’hesaid,holdingoutahandbristledwithdarkhairs right

downtotheknuckles.‘You’vedroppedyourcigarette.Haveoneofmineinstead.They’reSwedish;notbad.’Ceremoniously,hehelduphis lighter forEmiland thenforhimself.Theblue

flamewasalmostdissolvedintothebluenessoftheday,andthesmokeonlytastedlikeanintensificationofthehotsummerair,butitwassoothing.Emilbreathedin

awelcomenumbnessfromit.Mokhovarrangedhimselfontherailinginanarchofspindlyblacksegments,andwaited.Helookedlikeanallegoryoffamine.WhenhejudgedthatEmilhadgothimselfback,hesaid:‘Academician,theMinisterhasthehighestopinionofyou.’‘Really,’saidEmil.‘Really,’Mokhovinsisted.‘He’sjustalittlesurprisedthatyougotsoupset.Ifit

hadbeensomeonewho’sbeentuckedupinacollegeallhislife–then,sure;butyou’vebeenintheapparat.Youknowhowthesethingsgo.YouwereastafferfortheCommitteeonLabour,Ithink?’‘Yes;underKaganovich.’‘Quiteapungentpersonality.’‘He liked to smash telephones,’ saidEmil. ‘Anddeal out black eyes, onbad

days.’‘Anddidhethinkwellofyou?’‘Reasonably.’‘Well then,’ said Mokhov. ‘Broken phones, the occasional left hook, the

Minister’slittlebitofsarcasm:youknowbetterthantotakeanyofitpersonally.It’s theway theydo things.That’sall.TheMinisterwantsyou toknowthatyoumaybeassuredofhiscontinuinggoodwill.’ItwasembarrassinghowrelievedEmilfelt.Hestudiedtheburningendofthe

cigarette.‘You know,’ said Mokhov, speaking much more lightly, even teasingly, ‘you

should be grateful that it isn’tBrezhnev you’re trying to brief.By all accounts,howcanIputthis,he’samanwhocangetoutofhisdepthinapuddle.Theysaythatifyoutellhimsomethinghedoesn’tunderstandhegoes’–Mokhovadoptedanexpressionofamiablecretinism–‘“Hmm,notreallymyarea.Ispecialisemorein,uh,organisation,and,uh,psychology.”’Emil smiledwarily.Now that fearwas quieted, the other puppy, anger,was

climbing on top.Mokhov looked at his face, and evidently failed to find therewhathewasexpecting.‘Butwhybringmeallthisway,’saidEmil,‘iftheMinisterdoesn’twantwhat

wehavetooffer?Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’dwanttocarryoutthereformwesuggestedwithoutthepartthatmakessenseofit.’‘Ohdear,’saidMokhov.‘Ijustdon’tunderstandwhatI’mdoinghere.’‘Iseethat,’saidMokhov.Hebentdownandextinguishedhiscigarettecarefully

on the sole of his shoe. Then he lit another one. ‘Why don’twe go for a littlewalk?’hesaid.‘Butshouldn’twe–?’saidEmil,indicatingthedoorofthedacha.

‘Theywon’tneedusforawhile,’saidMokhov.‘Truly;it’sallright.Comeon.’Heunfoldedhimselfandledthewayofftheverandah.Securitycameover,but

rubberygabblingandsqueakingfromthewalkie-talkieconfirmed that theywerepermittedtostroll,andEmilfollowedMokhovtowardtheavenueoftreesrunningin the direction of the gatehouse; not the spindly pines and birches ofAkademgorodok but gnarled old deciduousmonsters,with canopies as thick ascauliflowers, and green gloom beneath. The air in there felt like slow-movinglukewarm water. Mokhov waited till they were out of earshot of the guardsbehind,andthenraisedhisblackbrowsatEmilencouragingly.‘Ithoughttherewasbacking,’Emilburstout.‘Realbackingforthereform,at

thetop.’‘Andso there is,’saidMokhov.‘TheMinisterhasspentrealpoliticalcapital

on it. He is favour of the reform right up to the point where it collides withsomethingmoreimportant.’‘Whichis–?’‘Stability, of course. TheMinister, being a sensible and cautiousman, cares

more about securing what we have already achieved than he does about anyexperiment thatmight endanger it. He agreeswith you that it would nice to bericher.Hewouldcertainlylikethegrowthratesyoupromise.Buthispriorityistopreservethedisciplinedfunctioningofoureconomy.’‘Even if the disciplined functioning of our economy is inadequate to satisfy

humanneeds?Imeantheneedswealreadyhave.Grosslyinadequatetotheneedswewillhave.’‘My experience of human needs is that they grow at the exact speed of the

resourcesavailabletofeedthem,’saidMokhovcomfortably.‘Takeyoureyesofftheradiantfutureforaminute,andlookaround.Oureconomyhasitsfaultsbutitfeedsandclothesourcitizensbetter than the largemajorityof thepeopleon theplanet.Lookat the Indians.Lookat theChinese.Compared to them theaverageRussianisasrichasCroesus.’‘AndcomparedtotheAmericans?ComparedtotheEuropeans?’‘Ahwell,’saidMokhov.‘You’resayingwe’vegivenuponovertakingthecapitalists?’‘I’m pointing out to you that theMinister and his colleagues are nervous of

anythingthatmightlosewhatwe’vealreadygot.’‘Andoptimalpricingfallsintothatcategory.’‘Indeeditdoes.’‘ForGod’ssake,’saidEmil.‘Why?’‘You reallydon’tknow?’ saidMokhov. ‘Look,yourprices aren’t justprices.

They’repoliciesinthemselves.They’relittlepiecesoftheplan.Andyetyoukeep

tellingusthatnobodywilldecideonthem.They’llbegenerated–whatwasyourword?–automatically,bysomemathematicalblackboxwejusthavetotakeontrust.Theywon’tbeundercontrol,andneitherwilltheirconsequences.’Emilwasexasperated.‘Thisisexactlytheillusionthatdoesmostdamage,’he

said. ‘Do you really suppose that the consequences of bad prices are undercontrol,justbecausethepricesarechosenbyacommittee?Theycauseaparadeofperversitiesthatstretchesallthewaytothehorizon!’‘Granted,’ said Mokhov calmly. ‘Granted. But it’s up to you to prove that

you’vegotasolutionwhichwouldn’tbeworsethantheproblem.Badpriceshaveconsequencesweknowhowtodealwith.Wecanintervene;wecaneasethingsabit;wecanreactwhenproblemsarise.Weknowthemachine.Weknowhowtheparts connect – and they do all connect, you know, they are all of a piece, thepricesandthesupplysystemandtheplantargets.Theyinterlock.Andweknowthatthethingthatstopsthemachinefromseizingupisourabilitytobepragmatic;ourdiscretion.Whatdoyouwant todo?Youwant to takeourdiscretionaway.Youwanttheplantargetsfortenthousandenterprisestocomestraightoutofthecomputer.And then there’d be noway of correcting errors.Whatevermistakeswerebuilt intoyourpriceswouldstaythere, lockedinforever,multiplyingandmultiplyinguntilthemachineshookitselftopieces.No,thankyou.’‘Butoptimalpricesdon’tcontainerrors.’‘Don’tthey?They’reonlyasgoodasthedatathey’rebasedon.IfIunderstand

correctly, they’recalculatedfromtheefficiencyof theenterprises’equipment.Inotherwords,theydependonmanagerssubmittingcompletelytruthfulinformationaboutwhattheirenterprisesarecapableof.Speakingassomebodywhohasbeentryingtogetthemtodojustthatfornearlythirtyyears,Ihavetosayitstrikesmeasatrifleunlikelythatthey’llchangetheirwaysjustbecauseyou’vesentthemanew form to fill in. Assume, instead, an average degree of duplicity and self-interest,andyourlovelynewpriceshavejustasmanyerrorsinthemasournastyoldones–withnowayofcuttingoffthemischiefthey’lldo.’Emilstoppedwalking.Heclosedhiseyesandpressedhisfingertipsagainstthe

lids.Squaresofgoldenlightpulsedagainstgreeninhispersonaldark.Thiswasnot a viewof the economyhe had expected to have to argue against. Itwas socynical.‘IsthiswhatKosyginthinks?’heasked.‘HowwouldIknow?’saidMokhov,smiling.‘Probablynotinsomanywords.

Buthedoesseemtohavealivelysensethatoursystemhadbetternotbebrokenbywell-meaningexperiments.Sohe’llgivethereformatry,andhe’llinvesthisnewpowerinit,buthewillnottakeriskswiththesystemitself.I’mafraid,’saidMokhov, looking at Emil, ‘that if itwas risk-taking youwere after,MrK.was

yourman.’‘Surely though,’ said Emil, ‘there is an urgency here. We have only a very

limitedwindowinwhichtoachievethegrowthratesrequiredfor–’‘Iwouldn’tworrytoomuchaboutthat,’saidMokhov.‘There’splentyoftime.’‘But1980isonly–waitaminute,’saidEmilslowly.‘Areyoutellingmethat

thegoalssetdowninthePartyProgrammearebeingabandoned?’‘Of course not!’ saidMokhov. ‘How couldwe possibly abandon the idea of

buildingcommunism?Itwouldbeanexistentialabsurdity.I’mjustsaying,there’splentyoftime.’Emil thought back, head spinning, to the restatements of the promise of

abundancehehad seen sinceKhrushchev fell.Perhaps theywere growingmoreinfrequent,morenominal.Hehad lethimself think thepolicymuststillhave thepassionattached to it thatKhrushchevhadput in, justbecause itwasstillbeingmentioned.Butifitonlyremainedonthebookstogivethenewbossesafigleafofcontinuity, then all his assumptions were wrong. He would have to rethink theworld;whichhedidnotfeelatallinclinedtodoanymoreinthecompanyofthismaliciousstick insect,whodidn’tbother tohidehowmuchhewasenjoyinghischancetoputanacademicright.‘WhatdoestheMinisterwantmeherefor,then?’saidEmilflatly.‘To arrange a series of articles by economists promoting the reform.

Endorsements,explanations,popularisations:theusualthing.They’llgiveyouthedetails when we get back. And perhaps we should be turning round,’ saidMokhov,lookingathiswatch.Herotatedonhisaxisinaswivelofblacklimbsandfacedthewaytheyhadcome.‘Doyouknowwhatmyfirstjobwas,whenIgotbackfromthewar?’Mokhov

askedcheerfully,whentheyhadbeenwalkingforaminuteor twoandEmilhadnot spoken. ‘Burningbonds.Youwon’thaveheardabout this,because itwas–still is – highly confidential. But there was a decision in ’45 to simplify thefinances by getting rid of all the bond certificates which had ended up in ourhands,foronereasonorother,duringthewar.Iwasonarota,withsomestaffatthesameleveloveratGosbankandtheMinistryofFinance,becauseitwasgoingtotakeweeks.Therewasalotofpapertodisposeof.Soeveryeveningthatitwasmyturn,adeliveryvancollectedmefromGosplanattheendoftheday,andwerodeonout tooneof thecity incineratorswhere thenightshifthadbeen told tostokeupandthenmindtheirownbusiness,withboxafterboxoften-roublebondsintheback.Athousandorsotothebox.ThesecuritydetailhumpedtheminfromtheloadingdockandIcheckedthemoffonthatnight’slist:warbonds,thenormalmasssubscriptionbondsfrombeforethewar,the1938conversionissue–onandon.Everybondthathadbeendonatedtothewareffort,everybondpledgedtothe

savingsbankassecurityforaloan,everybondheldbyadeadsoldier,everybondthatwaseverconfiscated.Andintotheflamestheywent.Therewasalittleglasspanel beside the door of the furnace, so you could watch. And I did. It washypnotic,believeme.Youmightexpectpapertogoupinaflash,woof!,likethat,butitturnsoutthatitdoesn’tburnverywellwhenit’sstackedtogetherinbulk.Itscorchedanditsmoulderedanditateawayslowlyfromtheedges,unevenly;justtheselittlecreepingfrontsoffire,nowider thana thread,workinginacross thefiguresandthecurlicues, theengravingsofpowerstationsandskyscrapers.Yourememberwhatthebondslookedlike–I’msureyouhadtobuyenoughofthem.Allthebrownandblueandthefineprintscorchingaway.Untiltherewasnothingleft of the stack but a kind of rack of ash, and it sank down in flakes on theincineratorfloor.’Mokhovsmiledreminiscently.Itwasnotdifficulttoimaginetheglowfromtheincineratorpeepholereflectedtwofoldinhisfascinatedeyes.‘Tenroublesfacevalue,’hesaid.‘Athousandtoabox.Wegotthroughacouple

ofmillionroubles’worthanight.Burnedhundredofmillionsintheend.Now:intheory all of that paper represented liabilities of the state we had no businessdisposing of. Some of it had been given over voluntarily for the sake of themotherland, true, butmost of those bonds belonged to someone, in theory. Theloan-holderswouldhavepaidbacktheirloans,thedeadsoldierswouldhavehadheirs,whocouldhavebeentrackeddown,ifwehadwantedto,andtoldtheystillhadaclaimonthestatefortheroublesofincometheyhadforgone,overtheyears,because we forced them to buy bonds. That’s what the bonds represented, intheory. Income not paid toworkers, work done but not paid for, because thereweren’tenoughconsumergoods for them tospend thewholeof theirwageson,andwehad toget the liquidityoutof thesystemsomehow.Thosebondsshouldhave been going into the draws for prizemoney, not into the incinerator. Theywerepromises.Butweburnedthemanyway,becausethetheorywasonlytheory,anditcountedfornothingagainstthelogicoftidyingupthestatebudgetwhenwecould. If Ieverbelieved thatwewould letourselvesbeconstrainedby roublesandkopecks,Ihaditburnedoutofmethen.Slowly,’saidMokhovwithasmile.‘Sheet by sheet.Ten roubles at a time.That’swhen I learned somethingwhich,forgive me, you too should have learned years ago, Academician.Money willnever be allowed to have the last word here. It will never be allowed to be“active”.Itwillneverbepermittedtobecomeanautonomouspower.’‘I’msurprisedyoudidn’tgoforGlushkov’sschemethen,’saidEmilbitterly.‘Ah,butthatwouldbejustasbad.Youwantedmoneythatmeanstoomuch.He

wantednoneofitatall.Butweneedsomethingtokeepscorewith,somethingwecan control, or howwould we ever be able to declare victory? And wemustalwaysbeabletodothat.Cigarette?No?’

Mokhovinhaled,andblewalongthinstreamofsmokeoutupward,towardthemotionlessbranchesoverhead.Theywerealmostbackintheblazeoflightattheendoftheavenue.‘Have you heard what’s happened to Glushkov’s proposal?’ he said. ‘His

universalnetworkofcomputers,alltalkingtoeachother?They’vegivenittotheCentral Statistical Administration, to “finalise”. Which means it’ll shrink andshrink.Youknow,Professor,youshouldcountyourblessings.Foryou,Iforeseeashowerofprizesandhonours.Andyouhaveyourresearch!Fascinatingresearchonasubjectwhich–whoknows?–maysomedaybeofenormousimportance.’‘CanIhope,then?’saidEmil,despitehimself.‘Oh,youcanalwayshope,’saidMokhovwarmly.‘Bemyguest.’

Notes–V.2Ladies,CoverYourEars!1965

1Emilsplashedhisheadwithcoldwater:theentireoccasiondescribedinthischapterisaconfabulation,designedtodramatisethedisappointmentofthereformeconomistsoverthelimitsofthe‘Kosyginreforms’of1965.KosygindidmakeapointofstoppingoffinAkademgorodokonhiswaybackfromastatevisittoVietnam,andwhile talkingtoKantorovichandAganbegyantheredidutter the immortalsentences‘Whathavepricestodowithit?Whatareyoutalkingabout?’–butmostofthereformers’accesstodiscussionsoverthedesignofthereformwasthroughcommitteesandreportsoftheAcademyofSciences,inwhichtheystruggledtomakethemselvesheardclearly.ThecaseagainstadoptingKantorovich’sprices, though,whichIhaveputintoKosygin’smouthandthemouthofthefictionalMokhov,issofarasIhavebeenabletofindouttheprobableone,compoundedofshrewdrealismaswellasself-interestandincomprehension.AndKosygin’scharacterasrepresentedhereisalsoauthentic,downtothehabitofcontinualcontemptuousinterruption. Abel Aganbegyan really did in fact lose his temper in the face of it, and snap ‘I don’tunderstand?’backathim,withtemporarilydisastrousresults,butnotuntiltenyearslater,inthemid-1970s.SeeAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain.Formyunderstandingof thetechnicalaspectsof thereform,Ihave used the analysis in Ellman,Planning Problems in the USSR, and (by the same author) ‘SevenThesesonKosyginism’ inCollectivism,ConvergenceandCapitalism (London:HarcourtBrace, 1984).There isanaccessibleaccountof the reform’saims inBerliner, ‘EconomicReform in theUSSR’.ForageneralsenseoftheeconomistsasplayersincontemporarySovietpolitics,seeR.Judy,‘TheEconomists’, inG.SkillingandF.Griffith,eds,InterestGroupsinSovietPolitics(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,1971).Foramuchmore fine-grainedandbitchyaccount, seeKatsenelinboigen,Soviet EconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR.

2MrK. had slipped into real puce-faced spittle-streaked raving: it had been in the interests of thePresidiummajority who overthrew Khrushchev that his instability should be exaggerated, and Emil hasclearlypickedupsomedeliberatelyhyperbolicgossip.ButtheFirstSecretary’stemperhadbeengettingoutofcontrol,andtherehadbeenspur-of-the-momentthreatstotheRedArmy(seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.585–6)andtheAcademy(Taubman,Khrushchev,p.616).

3Thenewmenexudedadeliberate ,welcomecalm: for themood-music of the transition, seeMichelTatu,PowerintheKremlin:FromKhrushchev’sDeclinetoCollectiveLeadership, translatedfromtheFrenchbyHelenKatel(London:Collins,1969),andBurlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring.

4A peculiar and discordant piece had been published in Ekonomicheskaya Gazeta: see unsignedarticle,‘EconomicsandPolitics’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.7no.11,March1965;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,11November1964.

5There came a reorganisation of the lacework of Party committees within all the institutes: seeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

6An experiment in letting clothing stores determine the output of two textile factories: for the

experiment at theBolshevichka andMayak factories, seeV. Sokolov,M.Nazarov andN.Kozlov, ‘TheFirmandtheCustomer’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4,August1965,pp.3–14;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,6Jan1965.

7‘Wehavetofreeourselvescompletely,’hesaid:thistechnocraticspeechwasgivenon19March1965,published in Gosplan’s journal Planovoe Khozyaistvo no. 4, April 1965, and reprinted inEkonomicheskayaGazeta on 21April 1965.Quoted inEnglish inTatu,Power in theKremlin, p. 447.Kosygin’s report on the completed reform measure appeared in Izvestiya, 28 September 1965; seeA.N.Kosygin, ‘On Improving Industrial Management, Perfecting Planning, and Enhancing EconomicIncentives in IndustrialProduction’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.6,October1965,pp.3–28.

8AbeautifulpaperattheendoflastyearhadskeweredAcademicianGlushkov’shypercentralisedrival scheme: see Vsevolod Pugachev, ‘Voprosy optimal’nogo planirovaniia narodnogo khoziaistva spomoshch’iu edinoi gosudarstvennoi seti vychistel’nykh tsentrov’,Voprosy Ekonomiki (1964) no. 7, pp.93–103.NoEnglishtranslation.AccordingtoKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThought,Pugachevwasa TSEMI economist deployed to Gosplan who had gone over to the planners’ critique of mathematicalreform.

9Theyhaddecidedhe’dbetternot,forobviousreasons:IhaveonceagainexaggeratedandcoarsenedKantorovich’s unworldliness. He was not a skilled politician, but in this case he served alongsideAganbegyanonthe‘Commissionof18’taskedbytheAcademytoprepareitssubmissiononthereform.

10An optimal plan is by definition a profitable plan: from Kantorovich, The Best Use of EconomicResources.

11TherewasareportinJanuaryinEkonomicheskayaGazeta:EmilisreferringtoSokolov,NazarovandKozlov,‘TheFirmandtheCustomer’,citedabove.

12We should let amachine take over a job as sensitive as decidingprices?: See the discussion inEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR,ofwhichelementswere,andwerenot,usuallyadoptedwhenan‘optimalplan’hadbeendrawnupforsomeSovietinstitution.

13 ‘He liked to smash telephones,’ said Emil: true. See Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, for theuninhibited management styles of Stalin’s industrial barons like Kaganovich and Ordzhonikidze. TheCommittee on Labour was Lazar Kaganovich’s last major appointment. He was pushed out of thePresidium indisgracebyKhrushchev in1957asoneof the ‘anti-Partygroup’,andsent to run theUralsPotashWorksinSolikamsk,PermProvince.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.369.

14 I specialise more in, uh, organisation, and, uh, psychology: an anecdote taken from Burlatsky,Khrushchev and the First Russian Spring, pp. 213– 14.Apparently Brezhnevmade little rotary handmovementsintheairashesaidit.

15‘Doyouknowwhatmy first jobwas,when I gotback from thewar?’: the details of the rota, thedeliveryvansandtheincineratorareallinvented,butthepostwarburningofthebondsisreal.SeeHachten,PropertyRelations.Thecurrencyreformof1947,whichconvertedoldroublestonewroublesinsavingsaccounts at the rate of 10:1while keeping prices the same,was another deliberatemove to abolish thestate’s liabilities. AndKhrushchev did it againwhen, on 8April 1957, he deferred the repayment of alloutstandingbondissues‘for20–25years’,andthe3%interestdueonthemtoo,whichhadbeenpaidoutaslotteryprizestobondholders.Butinthislastcase,thegaintocitizens’pay-packetsinnothavingtobuyanymorenewbonds outweighed the theoretical loss of all their previous subscriptions.See JamesR.Miller,‘History and Analysis of Soviet Domestic Bond Policy’, Soviet Studies 27 no. 4 (1975), p. 601; andFranklynD.Holzman,‘TheSovietBondHoax’,ProblemsofCommunism6,no.5(1957),pp.47–9.

Psychoprophylaxis,1966Fyodor’smother,unfortunately,wasstillattractivetomen.Whentheygotthenewflatandshemovedinwiththem,forty-sevenyearsoldandskinnyasaschoolgirl,withblackeyessnappingupwhattheysawandblackarcsofeyebrowpencilledabove,alongcameIvanov,aforemanfromtheplantwheresheworked,thoughhehadafamilyofhisowninabuildingnearby.Theysatatthenewkitchentable,thetwoof them,drinkingand laughingandmakingup toeachotheras if theywereteenagers.Ivanovwasforeverwipinghismouthwithhisfingers,andthenwipinghis fingers on the edge of the tablecloth. Fyodor didn’tmind; he laughed alongwith them. It was normal to him.When he was growing up she’d always hadboyfriends,hisfatherbeingoutofthepicture,usuallymenwithsomeleveragetooffer in the thousand skirmishes of communalka life, and since they were allpackedinsixorseventoaroom,therewasnotmuchmysterytowhatMamagotuptounder theblanketwithher latestbeau.Theonly timeheputhisfootdownwaswhenheneededpeaceforhisPartypaperwork,or todohishomeworkforhis law course. He was registered with the All-Union Legal CorrespondenceInstitute,andtherewasanessayaweekforhimtowrite, lefthandproppinghisforeheadandtuggingathiscleanblackhair,textbooksspreadoutroundhimonthetabletop.This,hismotherrespected.Fyodorwasontherise;hewasgoingtobeabigman someday, a judgeormaybe something at theobkom.On thewhole sheapprovedofGalinaasatrophyofthatrise,afancywifeforaworkingboymadegood, though speaking personally rather than categorically she made it clearenoughshe thoughther soft-headedand impractical.Onessaynights she tiptoedroundFyodor,snatchingthelittleplatesofnutsorsalamiGalinahadmadesothatshecouldbetheonetoslidethemreverentlyintohisperipheralvision.‘Allright,son?’‘Thanks,ma.’ButthenoiseshemadewhensheandIvanovwereatitinthebedroom!Itcame

rightthroughthethinwalls.Galinacouldhardlybeartomeetanyoftheireyesinthemornings,when they all packed round the stove to slurp black tea and jambeforework,as ifFyodorandhismotherand Ivanovbelonged to someslightlydifferentspecieswhichbynatureclusteredclose,ateaseinthestraw,pushingintotheenvelopeofheatandnoiseandsmellmadebyeachother’sbodies.Galinahadnotspentherchildhoodnightsinthesharedsweatofacommunalka.Shehadsleptincleansheetsinherownroominthemanager’slittlehousebytherailroadline,

with a doll dressed in a embroidered gown leaning against themirror and herPioneer uniform hanging neatly from a hook in the wall. The coal trains hadclankedoutminerallullabies.Whenshetriedtoraisethematter,inadelicateandtactfulway,hermother-in-lawonly said, ‘D’you thinkwecan’thear the twoofyou?’Theyprobablycould.Shedidnotthinkaboutitwhenitwasnothappening,but

inbedFyodormadehertrembleandshakeandbreakloosefromherselfinawayshehadnoideahowtofittogetherwiththepersonshewasindaylight.Ithadbeentrue right from thebeginning, from the first time she sawhimagain, sixmonthsafterthedisasterattheAmericanexhibition.Fyodor’sreporthadgotherintothetrouble that had lost herVolodya; then it had got her out of trouble again, or atleast limited the trouble so that thewayshehadbehavedcouldbeputdownasnothing more damaging than a character flaw. The word ‘hysterical’ appearedseveraltimes.Shewasahystericratherthanasecurityrisk,foreveronfilenowassomebody toopanickyfor thekindof jointPartycareersheandVolodyahadimagined, but still quite acceptable as, for example, a Party wife for someonestartingalittlelowerdown.Fyodorwasgoodatpressingexactlytherightbuttons,itseemed,whenhesawsomethinghewanted.Andwhathewanted,itturnedout,washer.‘Giveusakissthen,’hesaid,whenshestammeredherthanks.Theywereontheriverembankment,aplacewherekisseswereunremarkable,soshesteppedforwardtogivehimadry-mouthedpeckofgratitudeandheranafingerdownherspine while she was doing it. A quite new and disturbing ripple of feelingfollowedhis finger; she shivered and choked, because hermouthwas suddenlywet.‘Oh,’saidFyodor,grinningather,squintingatherfromcloseup;‘Oho,’hesaid,asifhissuspicionhadbeenconfirmed.Andhepulledoffherberetandputitinhisjacketpocket.Sotheyweremarried;soshehadalifeinMoscow,afterall.Itjustdidn’tquite

seemtobehers.Sheworkedasanutritionistattheofficesupervisingworkplacemealsforthenorth-westernsectorofthecity,andattheendofthedayshewalkedbacktotheflatfromthenewmetrostation,acrossthegougedearthofthemicro-region,carryingastringbagoffood,somebought,sometakenashersharefromthemodelkitchenin theofficewhererecipesweretested.Fyodorbroughthomeluxuries,thankstohiscontacts:awashingmachine,atelephonealongwithamantoinstallit.‘D’youwantapiano?’hesaid.‘I’vegotalineonone.’Sheshrugged;shehadneverreallycaredonewayortheotheraboutmusic.Buthegotthepianoanyway,foreveryoneknewthatitwaspartofthegoodlifetohaveapiano,andthereitsatunplayedinitsdustcover,brownandgold.FyodorwasasambitiousasVolodyahadbeen,butinaverydifferentvein;not

withtheplaciddeterminationtobettersomethinghealreadyhad,butscrambling

up, pushing himself up the slope before him with his elbows out and his legskickingandhishandsgrabbingatwhateverseemedtoofferapurchase.Therewassomething untidy about his energy; careless, even.He never seemed to have tocomposehimself,assheandheruniversityfriendshaddone,tosaythethingsthatwouldmaketherightimpression.Hesaidtherightthingscopiously,effortlessly,ithaving apparently never occured to him that you could care enough about thecontentofpolitics tosayanythingexceptwhatyouweresupposed tosay.Therewasnothingtobecarefulabout,asfarashewasconcerned.Theworldwaswhatitwas.Thatwasthat.Helaughedalot,andhehungoutwithothermenwholaughedeasilytoo;beefy

menalittleolderthanhim,mostly;back-slappers,drink-standers,middle-rankers,wholookedoutforchancestodoeachothersomegood.Sometimesheneededherto come along when he and his cronies went junketing, and she’d dance withFyodoronthedarkenedlittledancefloorofarestaurant,feelinginsidethestirofhelpless reaction to him as they boogied about, and on her skin the eyes of theothermenappraisingherastheycircledbyholdingtheirwives,solidladiesfromAccounting or Procurementwith beehive hairdos and party frocks in orange orlime-greenorlon.Galinawastheyoungestone.Thenbacktothetableforsaucersofpineapplechunksandinterminabletoastsinstickyliqueur.Fyodordidn’tseemtomind thewaythegazesateherup.She turnedroundone timeinarestaurant,comingbackfromthebuffet,andfoundhimandoneof thefriendsstaringatherthighs together, with their heads tilted at exactly the same angle and identicalappreciativesmirksontheirfaces,asifherfleshweresomethinggoodonTV.Shedidn’t see her own friends anymore. Her parents came to visit once, and shewatchedFyodorworkinglikeasafecrackeronhergrufffather,whohadexpectedbetter for her, till he too grinned and guffawed and started to saywhat a goodfellowshe’dfound.Hermothergaveheronelookofhelplessanxietyastheyweregoing.Andthatwasthat.But itbotheredFyodor that laughterdidn’tworkonher.Onanightat the flat

whenhe andhismother and Ivanovwere roaring at some comedy showon thetelevisioninthecorner–thatgotused,allright–andherfacewasachingfromsmilingpolitelyforsolong,hechasedherintothekitchenasshewasclearingatray of glasses away, and tried to tickle her. The prodding fingers put her in apanic.Farfromrelaxingshedrewbackintoacrouch;shecowered,coveringherheadwith her hands. Somehowhis pulls and grabs tomake her come back outgrewangrierandangrier,asifhethoughtshewasactingthiswaytospitehim,andthenhepunchedher.Ithurtlessthanshewouldhaveguessedafistwould,atfirst– just a numb jolt to the eyesocket. He backed away staring. Then he made agestureasifhewerethrowingadisgusteddoublehandfulofairather,andwent

backtothehilaritynextdoor.Notknowingwhatelsetodo,shewenttobed.Thesoundsfromthelivingroomseemednodifferentfromusual,andhedidn’tcometobeduntilaftershewasasleep.‘Aboutlastnight,’hesaidinthehallnextmorning,notmeetinghereye.‘That’s

nothowIwantthingstobe.Itwon’thappenagain.Butitwouldhelpifyoudidn’tneedlemewhenI’mplastered.Haveabitofsense,eh?’Shenodded,thoughshedidn’trememberneedlinghim.‘Youmissedabit,’saidawomanattheofficeshe’dneverliked,anddrewher

into the toilet to dab powder onto her cheekbonewhere the bruise-purple wasshowingthrough.‘There.’Sometimesshehad theurge to run.She thoughtabout justgoing to thestation

andbuyinga tickethome; lettingMoscowdwindle toadepartingviewfromthewindow of the long green train east, folding itself up, tucking itself back tonothing,likeapapersculpturebeingputaway;justanideathathadn’tworkedout.Butthenwhatwouldshehavetoshowforanyofit?Soshestayed,andshestayed.Andnowitwastoolate.Thebabywascoming.Everyoneknewthatyouthendedwiththefirstchild,andshehadwaitedaslongasshedared–twomoreabortions–butFyodorsaidthetimewasrighttostartafamily.Theyhadthespace,andhisdegreewouldbedonewithinjustafewmoremonths,andthenhe’dbeoutoftheelectric plant for ever. She felt the orange orlon descending towards her like ashroud.‘Listentothis,’saidFyodoroneSundaymorninginNovember.Hewasreading

thecourtreportsinthenewspaper.‘Thisisgreat.Anicelittlepuzzle.’‘What?’ she said, turning from the sink and crossing herwet hands over her

belly.‘Apparently, thedeputydirectorofapigfarm’son trial forspeculationunder

Article154,becauseheused farmfunds tobuya loadof timber that thequarrynextdoorwasgoingtoburnoff.Hesaidheneededthewoodtobuildstiesorthepigswouldallsnuffitthiswinter.Quote,“Whenarrestedheclaimedhehadbeenactingintheinterestsofthestate.”Whatd’youthinkthestorywasthere,then?’‘Youmean,whyhereallydidit?’sheoffered.‘No,’saidFyodorimpatiently.‘It’sobviouswhyhedidit.He’d’vebeeninthe

shitifthepigshaddied.Notasmuchshitashe’sinnow,buthedidn’tknowthat.Anyonewouldhavedoneit.Itstandstoreason.Thequestionis–’‘Whyit’sinthenews?’‘No.Shutupaminute,can’tyou?Thequestionis,whyhegotcaught.Now,ifI

were on the panel for a case like this, I’d be looking at the guy, and I’d bethinking: dimwit, blabbermouthor pain in the ass?Because this is simple stuff,thisisjustyourmostbasicsupplyswap.Soeitherthisguyistoostupidtopullit

off–andI’dsaythatthemoneywasapointinfavourofthistheory,becausehecouldhavepaidinbacon,forheaven’ssake–orelsehe’sincrediblyindiscreet,andhe’sbeentalkingabouthisdearoldpigsfreezingtodeathsoloudandsolonginthewrongkindofplacesthatsomeonevirtuallyhadtolookintoit.Or,optionthree,he’sannoyedsomebody,he’sjustthekindoffellowwhopissespeopleoff,andnowthewordhascomedown,makeabitofanexampleofsomeoneinyourdistrictthisquarter,sothatthethieverydoesn’tgetoutofhand,everyonethinks,whodeservestobeintheshit,who’sbeenmakinganuisanceofhimself.So,I’dbelookingathimforthelittlesigns–’AndFyodorwasoff,hishandsonthetabletopinquickmotion,hisfacefullof

thepleasureofattendingtohisowncleargraspoftheworld;andGalinafounditeasy to picture him in a few years’ time, sitting on the bench with two otherjudges,blankanddignifiedofexpressionthenofcourse,yetstillalert,interested,inclininghisheadtodetectthetracesofthecrimethecourthadreallygatheredtopunish.Culpablelackofsmarts,isit?Orculpableexcessofspeech;orculpablefailuretobelikeable.Hewasgoingtolookgoodinarobe.‘Sowhichd’youthink?’Fyodorwassaying.‘Hello?’‘Oh,’ saidGalina, painfully certainofbeingdisappointing. ‘I –’But shewas

savedfromhavingtoanswerbyagushofliquidpatteringontheflooraroundherfeet.‘What’sthat?’saidFyodor.‘Ithinkmywatershavebroken,’shesaid.Andthenasensationassailedherthat

shehadneverfeltbefore;quitefaint,butdefinite,atightening,grippingmotionofmusclesdeepinsideherthathadnever,inherwholelife,sentherasignalbefore,but which now wished to announce that they were present, and would besqueezingwhentheyfeltlikeit,irrespectiveofthesoftnessofwhattheysqueezed.‘Oh,’shesaid.‘Ohshit,’saidFyodor.‘Ma!’Hismothersatwithherwhileherangtocallfortheambulance,andwhilehe

randownstairstowaitforitatthefrontdooroftheblock.‘Don’tworry,Princess,’shesaid.‘Youwon’trememberitafterwards.’

*

Galinahadrhesus-negativeblood,andFyodorhadpulledstringstobookherintooneof the threeMoscowmaternityhomes that specialised inRh-negpatients. Itwasa longdrive, evenwith thecityquiet forSundayafternoon.Fyodor lookednervously at hiswatch several times, as if theymight be late for something; heheldherhandbutsaidverylittle.Neitherdidthemidwifewhohadcomewiththe

neatlittlewhiteambulancevan,onceshehadsatisfiedherselfthatnothingurgentwashappening.Shespentthejourneywritingsomethinglengthyonmanypagesoflinedpaper.Galinaassumeditmustbemedical records thewomanwaswritingupbutwhenshestolealookoverhershoulderitturnedouttobealetter,adrearyseriesofcomplaintsaboutslightsshehadreceivedfromvariouspeople.Asherpencilmoved her head in itswhite cap like a fabric flowerpot nodded up anddown.Galinafeltmoststrange.Thecontractionsonlycameat long intervalsyeteveninthespacesbetweenthemherbodyfeltindefinablydifferent;orperhapstheworlddid.Everythingthatwasnotherbodyseemedtohavemovedfurtheraway,intoastateoffloatinginconsequence.Shelookedoutoftheambulancewindowatlowcloudsroofingthecityindirtypearl,andshefeltakindofhungrinessforthelife going quietly on out there, for the putting on of gloves and the greeting ofacquaintances,butshehadalreadyleftit, ithadalreadyreceded;itwasflowingalonginaseparatestream,distantandunreachableontheothersideoftheglass.AtthematernityhomeFyodorpositivelyjumpedout,andbustledaroundwhile

shewasbeingsignedinandchangedintoahospitalgown.Assoonashehadherstreet clothes bundled up on his arm he darted forward to kiss her cheek andstrokeherhead–andthenhewasbacking,dwindling,absentinghimselffromthescene,with an expression of obvious relief on his face.Out through the doors;gone.Shedidn’tblamehim.Shewouldhavelikedtobeabletostepawayherself,andletthebirthhappentosomeoneelse.‘Well,yougotagood-lookingone,’saidthenewmidwifewhohadtakencharge

of her, a bigwoman in her fiftieswith a face beneath thewhite flowerpot thatseemedtodisapproveoftheworld,andtodisapproveofitwithaperfectright,asifshewereeveryone’srighteous,put-uponauntie.‘Twoofakind,Isuppose,’shesaid, looking at Galina. She didn’t make it sound like a compliment. ‘Right,followme.’SheledGalinaalongacorridor,androundacornerintoaroomwithshowerstallsandtoiletsinit,andapairofexaminationcouches.Everythingwaswhite tiles,butnotverycleanones,onceyougotcloseup to them; therewasaspecklingofbrownmouldonthegrout,andwhenGalinahadtostopandleanonawall,herhandcameawayslightlysticky.‘Comeonnow,don’tmakeafuss,’saidtheangryaunt.‘You’vebarelybegun.’She let themidwife take back the gown and put her under a sluggish blood-

warmshower–and thendo somethingutterlydisgusting toherwitha lengthofrubbertubewhichsentherscurryingcrabwisetoatoilet–andthenlayherononeof the couches and shave her pubic hair. Itwas peculiar: ordinarily shewouldhavehatedeverymoment,andshestilldidbutagainremotely,withthestrengthofthe signal turnedwaydown.Tobe treated like this felt as if itwereofapiecewith the way that her body, which had expanded to fill the whole significant

portionoftheglobe,wasalsoturningimpersonalonher.Ithadstoppedbeinghersto direct. It was in the grip of a process in which she had no say. There wassomething comforting in the thought that it knewwhat itwas doing even if shedidn’t.Andifthenursesknewwhattheyweredoingtoo,thatwasgood.Shewasbeing looked after. The midwife painted her down below with an orangedisinfectantthatstungthenewlyscrapedskin.Itlookedasifshe’dspilledasoftdrink inher lap.ThenAngryAunt tossed thehospitalgownover the tophalfofher, andwent to fetchadoctor, awomanwitha face ironedslackby tiredness.Her eyelidsdroopedand flutteredas she snappedon rubbergloves, and thoughshegaveGalinaanexhaustedsmileherfingersseemedclumsyandmechanicalasshedidthepelvicexam.‘Primipara,’shesaidtotheAngryAunt,standingbywithaclipboard.‘Twenty-

six years old. Labour not yet urgent. Early rupture of amnion. Longitudinalpositionoffetus.Leftocciputanterior.Normalcourse;cervixattwocentimetres;initialdilatationphasenowat–whendidyoustart,dear?’‘Abouteleveno’clockthismorning,’saidGalina.‘Threehours,then,’saidthedoctor.‘Now,mydear,’shesaid,hoistingthetired

smile, ‘everything is going perfectly normally, so don’t worry at all. InnaOlegovna here will take you through to the labour ward, and then it’s just aquestionof rememberingyourexerciseswhen thecontractionsstrengthen.RoomB3,’shetoldtheAngryAunt.‘Ithinkit’sfull.’‘Is it?G1 then – but she shouldn’t really be climbing stairs, notwithwaters

broken.Istheelevatorworking?’‘No.’‘Ohwell.Can’tbehelped.Goodbye,mydear.’‘Waitaminute,please,waitaminute,’saidGalina,butthedoctorwasalmost

goneandonly turnedherhead in thedoorway.‘Sorry,’Galinasaid, ‘but–whatexercises?’‘Youdidn’tdothepsychoprophylaxisclasses?’‘Thewhat?’Thedoctor stifled a yawnwithher hand. ‘You shouldhavehad a letter,’ she

said.‘Didn’tyougetaletter?’‘Yes–butthatwasaboutchildcareandthings,wasn’tit?Icouldn’tgo,Ididn’t

havetime.’‘Well,’saidthedoctor,‘Youhadninemonths.I’msorry,butI’mafraidthatat

thismomentIdon’thavetimeeither.IwasdueoffshiftatsixthismorningandIhavefamilywaiting.InnaOlegovnawillexplainthingstoyou.Goodbye.’ButtheAngryAuntdidn’tsaymuchastheyweremakingtheirwayalongmore

tiledcorridorsandupastairwhereopenwindowsslottedthesteamywarmthwithshaftsofcold.Sheonlymutteredaboutthedoctorloadingherupwithchores.Acontraction came when Galina was on the landing, the hardest yet, and InnaOlegovnawasresentfullyobligedtopropherup.Galinapanted,andnotjustfromthesqueezingandtheclenchinginsideofher.Shehadworkedoutthatthatsoundshecouldhear,thenoiselikeseagullsinthedistance,wasactuallytherisingandfallingcacophonyofaflockoffemalevoices,cryingout.Screaming,infact,someofthem.Atthetopof thestairs thecriesgrewlouder,withaparticularfocus,aparticularclotofdecibels,comingfromthefarendofthenewcorridorinfrontofher.‘Please,’ Galinamade herself say, ‘what is this thing I’m supposed to know

about?’‘You girls,’ said Inna Olegovna with satisfaction. ‘You girls get everything

handedtoyouonaplate.’‘ButhowamIsupposed–’‘Inhere,’saidtheAngryAunt,andshowedherthroughthefirstdoorwayonthe

left, intoawhite-tiledroomwithsixbedsin it, fourof themalreadyocccupied.Galinawassorelievednottobesenttotheroomwiththescreaming,whichsheimaginedmust be a kind of a bedlam judging by the noise, a place of dreadfulabandon,thatshegraspedatthereassuringsignsoforderhere–thebigclockthattherowsofbedsallfaced,thestackofcleansheetsonthetrolleybythedoor–thoughthereweregroanstoo,andcries,andgruntedsounds,asthewomeninthebeds struggled through their internal surges and ebbs, or lay big-eyed andsweating,waitingforthenextround.‘Hello,’ saidGalina.Nobodyanswered.Shesaton theedgeofanemptybed

andleveredherselfroundandbackontothepillows.Therewasabiglight-fittingdirectly aboveher head, awidewhite bowl strangely pock-markedwith black.TheAngryAunttwitchedathingreybedspreadoverherlegs.‘Now,’ she said. ‘Pay attention.When the contractions come, breathe deeply.

Breatheinthroughyournoseandoutthroughyourmouth.Ifyouneedextrahelp,rubtheskinofyourbellyincircles.Usetheclocktotimethecontractions.You’llknowyou’rereachingthenextstagewhentheycomeaminuteorlessapart.Howmuchithurtsdependsonhowwellyouconductyourself.’‘Isthatreallyallyoucantellme?’saidGalina.‘Huh.Betterthannothing,’saidtheAngryAunt.‘Iwouldn’tworry,’saidthewomanontherightofGalina,whenshe’dgone;a

thinwomaninherthirtieswithcurlsstucktoherforehead.Shekepthereyesonthesecondhandoftheclockasshespoke.‘Youdidn’tmissmuch.’‘Youwenttotheclasses?’

‘Yes, but itwas only stuff about taking lots ofwalks, you know, and how topreparebabyfood,andthentherewerefiveminutesattheendaboutlabourpainbeing an illusion promoted by capitalist doctors, and how it was really onlymessagesfromthesubcortexofthebrainwhichyoucouldturnoffbystimulatingthecortex.Ormaybetheotherwayaround.’‘Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans,’saidGalina.‘NeitherdoI,’saidthewoman.‘Ido,’saidherneighbourontheotherside,asturdy-lookingteenager.‘Itmeans

they’renotgoingtogiveusanypainkillers.’Andshestartedtolaugh,buthernextcontractionarrived.‘Ohshit,’shesaid.‘Herewegoagain.Ohyoubastard,howdidIletyoutalkmeintothis?Ohyoucocksucker.Oh.You.Motherfucker.’‘Mustyoutalklikethat?’saidGalina.‘It’sveryvulgar.’‘Youstuck-upbitch,’saidthegirl,throughclenchedteeth.‘Justyouwait.’

*

The girl was right. Galina did wait, faithfully counting the interval betweencontractions, five minutes, four minutes, and trying rather self-consciously tobreathe in through her nose and out through hermouth, while her newmusclesworked,andperhapsitdidhelp,sortof;butafterawhile,alongwhileorashortwhile,thefeelingschanged,inquantityofdiscomfortandthereforeinqualitytoo,untiltheybegantostabholesinherdeepbreaths,andtoleavehergasping,withthebreathforcedupintoatinybouncingflutterinherthroat,andeverythingfurtherdownsurgingalongoutofcontrol.Itwasnotsqueezingthatshefelt,anymore:itwasacrushing,apulping.Itwasnotstretchingnow,buttearing.Itputherinmindofwhat she’d seenbutchers doing in the bigmeat lockers, twisting apart jointsagainsttheangleofthebones,thecartilagepopping,thefibresofthemeatpullingoutinredstrings.AndtheAngryAuntdidnothingtohelp.Thefirsttimeshecameback, Galina watched her hungrily, expecting that there would be a pill toswallowor an injection to take,but shehadonlybrought abowlofwater, andbriskly wiped all the foreheads in the room with it, like a person scrubbingtabletops.Galina had never in her adult life experienced anything that really hurt, a

physical sensation that would be up there in intensity of unpleasantness withsorroworhumiliation,andthediscoverywasastonishing.Wheneachcontractionreached its peak, she found that she would gladly have re-endured any awfulemotionshehadeverknown,ifithadjustmeantthatshedidn’thavetoexperiencethenextinstantofthis.Shewouldratherbebackintheconversationshehadhadwith Volodya when she came home from Sokolniki Park. She would rather be

lying in the dark with one hand over her eye and the pillow wet and the TVbraying through the wall. No contest. But no one was interested inmaking theswap.Thenext instant came, and thenanotherone, andanother, though thepainthat filledeachoneupmade it impossible to imagine that shewouldbeable toendure any continuation whatsoever of this sharpness, this blade slicing in thetissue, this lightning-fork running through thenerves, until shedid, and shehad,andshewas facing the impossibilityofan instant furtheron.Shedidn’twant tostroke her belly or her back. She didn’t want to touch anywhere down there,where her body was not her own any more, and some kind of terriblemisunderstandinghadarisenaboutsizesandvolumesandthefeasibilityofgettinganobjectasbigasacitybusoutthroughnarrowflesh.Shewantedtowatchfromthe other side of the glass. But that was the other discovery. It had been aridiculous illusion to suppose that some detached bit of her would be able towatchherbodygettingonwithit.Thecontractionssuckedherdownintofleshandbone.Whiletheylasted,herbodywasalltherewas.Onlyherbodyexisted.Shewasallbody.Nowshetoowatchedtheclock,pushingatthesecondhandwithhereyes,asif

thethinredwandcreepingroundthedialdirectlycontrolledwhatshewasfeeling.Itwasthelastthingintheroomthatmadesense.Thesecondstuggedanddraggedat it as it passed – they were viscous gulfs, they were treacly hectares ofwasteland,theywerewetmouths–butitwentonmoving.Itpushedon.Nothingelse helped. The time the hour andminute handsmeasured went away. Peoplewent away. Fyodor seemed as remote as the stars; the babywas unimaginable.Thewomanintheright-handbeddisappeared,thentheteenager,wheeledawayupthehallinakindofthrashingparoxysm.Itdidn’tmatter.Nothingwasrealexcepther and the second hand.Because if she clung to it for twowhole revolutions,every black division round the face a separate passage through an experienceworsethansorroworhumiliation, itwouldarrive, in theend,at thesecondthatended the contraction, and make the pain drain abruptly down like water in aholed mug, and she would be briefly her recognisable self again, panting andtrembling,withluxurioussecondsofrespiteaheadofher.Graduallytherespitesendedsoonerandsooner:threecircuitsofthesecondhand,two,oneandahalf.Butitwasalltherewastoholdonto,anditgaveherjustenoughstrengthtobiteherteethtogetherandstopherselfmakingthosedreadfulgroaningnoisescomingfromtheotherbeds.Shecouldjust,justmanageit.Herandthesecondhand.Andthen thesecondhand letherdown.Twominutesofpain,andshewaited

for theend,shewaitedandwaited,while theredneedlecreptonwards,upandoverthetopofthedial,androundthebottomagain,andthroughtwomorewholeturns before she understood that the respite wasn’t coming, this time; wasn’t

cominganymore.Andthepainofthecontractionchangedshapetoo.Ithadcome,before,ingatheringwaves,rockinginandrisinghigherandhigher,allsurgingsotospeakinonedirection,allstretchingandtightening–alltearingandcrushing–towardstheonegoal,theoneobject.She’dbeenbeingopened.Shecouldn’thelpknowingthat.Butnowthereseemedtobenoobject,nopattern.Ifthepainwasasea, itwasachoppymessof frothnow,churnedbywavesrunningeverywhichway and slapping into each other. The butchers’ hands forgot what they weredoing and ripped at her at random. Things had gone mad inside her. And thesecondswerejustashardtogetthrough,andnowtheyweregoingtocomeatherforeverandever,withoutstopping,withnoorderor logicor justificationatall.Thiscan’tberight,shethought.Ican’tdothis.‘Nurse,’shecalled,hervoiceasqueak.Andagain.Andagain.IntheendInna

Olegovnacame,wipingredhandsonatowel.‘Whatisit?’shesaid.‘Ithinksomethingiswrong,’Galinawhispered.TheAngryAuntsighedandrummagedinthepartsofGalinaforwhichshehad

neverfoundanameshewascomfortablesayingoutloud.‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said. ‘It’s just the second stage. Perfectly normal. A

couplemorehours,maybe.’Twohoursmaybe.Ahundredand twentyminutesmaybe.Seventhousandtwo

hundredsecondsmaybe.Foreverandever.‘Please,’saidGalina,‘please.Can’tyougivemesomething?Thisistorture.I

can’tbearit.’‘Wedon’thaveanythinglikethat,’saidtheAngryAunt.‘It’sagainstpolicy.You

aren’till,youknow.’‘ButIcan’tbearit,’Galinasaid,andhelplesslybegantocry,notinsobs,butin

weakstreamsfromtheoutsidecornersofhereyes.Downinthesaltwaterdrippedthe awful liquor of everything: her body’s betrayals, her ruined plans, her utterloneliness.‘Ican’t,’shewept.‘Ican’t,Ican’t,Ican’t.’‘Well, you have to,’ said Inna Olegovna. ‘You have no choice. You’re not

helping yourself with this kind of attitude, you know. It’s all in how you thinkaboutit.Sopullyourselftogetherandbreatheright,oryou’llkillthebaby.’Oh,sheknewthisgame.Allherlifeithadbeenthecure-all.Pretendtheworld

better. If you weep, pretend you’re smiling. If you’re puzzled, pretend you’recertain. Ifyou’rehungry,pretendyou’re full. Ifyouseechaos,pretend there’saplan. If todaystinks,pretend it’s tomorrow. If ithurts–psychoprophylaxis.Thebutchers’ hands worked without cease. Behind Inna Olegovna’s head the blacksplotchesonthelightshadeswamintofocus.Stalactitesofblackmucuswithlittlelegsandwingsinthem:theywereallmashedflies,swattedandlefttofester.But

why should I pretend this doesn’t hurt? she thought, and was all of a suddenangrierthanshecouldeverrememberbeingbefore.TheAngryAuntwasgoing.‘Nurse!’shoutedGalina,andfoundshecould throwthepain intohervoice if

shestoppedtryingtomakeithurtless.Intotheshout,thewholething,thewholeexperienceofbeingscrapedoutaliveintoabloodytunnel.‘Nurse!’Themidwifecameback,lookingsurprised.‘Nowwhat?’shesaid.‘Myhusband’,croakedGalina,baringherteeth,‘istheKomsomolsecretaryat

Elektrozavodskaya.’‘Allthemorereasonyoushouldsetagoodexample,’saidtheAngryAunt,but

shewascautiousnow.‘He has friends everywhere. Good friends. At the City Soviet, at the Party

Control Commission. Some of them supervise the hospitals,’ she said, and thewordhospitalscameoutwithahiss.‘Theywouldbeveryupsetifhewereupset.Doyouunderstandme?’‘It’spolicyto–’‘Doyouunderstandme?’‘Yes.’‘Sogoandgetmesomethingforthepain.Thisisahospital.’Hiss.‘You’llhave

somemorphineonashelfsomewhere.Goandgetit.’‘But–’‘Butnothing.Dowhatyou’retold!’InnaOlegovnascurried.

*

Well,theydidhavealittleinjectionofsomethingtuckedawayonashelf,anditjust about lasted her until the last stage began, and they moved her down thecorridor to the bedlam of the delivery room, not caring at that point about theshoutsandscreamsbecauseshewasaddingtothemherselfasshestartedtopush.The teenagerwas in the next bed, all done, white and quiet and stunned, babyalready papoosed up and whisked away; but she laughed when she heard thewordsthatGalinawasshouting.Iamgoingtogethismotheroutofthatflatifit’sthelastthingIdo,thoughtGalina,andpreparedtomeetherfuture.

Notes–V.3Psychoprophylaxis,1966

1HewasregisteredwiththeAll-UnionLegalCorrespondenceInstitute:foundedin1932,withmorethan forty thousand graduates by 1968. Added together, students attending evening classes (652,000 in

1967–8) and studying by correspondence (1.77 million in 1967–8) earned almost half of the bachelor’sdegreesawardedintheUSSR,andforlawdegreestheproportionwasevenhigher,43,000outof65,000in1967–8.A law degreewas a tool ofworking-class socialmobility, as in theUnited States, appealing tothoseon the rise, likeFyodor, rather than to thosewithestablished family traditionsofeducation.FiguresfromChurchward,TheSovietIntelligentsia.

2Thethousandskirmishesofcommunalka life: seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, pp. 47–9; and forthespecialpoliticalclaustrophobiaofcommunalflatsintimesofpurgeanddenunciation,seeOrlandoFiges,TheWhisperers:PrivateLivesinStalin’sRussia(London:AllenLane,2007),whichincludesfloorplansof theextraordinarilycrammedplaceshiswitnesses inhabited.For the surreal spectacleofStalinhimselfpickinghiswaythroughacommunalka,andlookingwithtouristicinterestatthewritingonthewallaroundthetelephone,seeGrossman,LifeandFate.

3Orangeorlime-greenorlon:orlonbeingtheSovietbrand-nameequivalenttoWesternnylon.4Thedeputydirectorofapigfarm’sontrial:afamouscasefrom1969,hoickedbackintimefortheusual

unscrupulous reasons of dramatic foreshortening. For the trial coverage, as presented for the outrage ofliberal-mindedintellectuals,seeLiteraturnayaGazeta(1969)no.27,p.10.

5OneofthethreeMoscowmaternityhomesthatspecialisedinRh-negpatients:IgetmydetailsofhospitalconditionsforthischapterfromKatherineBlissEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion(WestportCT:GreenwoodPublishingGroup,2004),pp.185–7,andPeterOsnos,‘Childbirth,SovietStyle:ALaborinKeepingWiththePartyLine’,WashingtonPost,28November1976,pp.G13–G14.SomedetailsofSovietmedical procedure for childbirth come from Elizabeth Lee, ‘Health Care in the Soviet Union. Two.Childbirth–SovietStyle’,NursingTimes(1984),1–7February;80(5):44–5,whichisaviewofasystembyaBritishmidwife,focusedmainlyondifferencesingoalsandintentions.Alloftheseapplytoperiodstento twentyyearsafter thedateatwhichGalina isgivingbirth,sosomeofwhathappenshere is inevitablyconjectural.Butthesystemdoesnotappeartohavechangedfundamentally,andanyallowancemadefordecayingfacilitiesandincreasingcynicismastheBrezhnevyearswentoncanbebalancedagainstthetruththatthespecialRhesus-negativematernityhospitalswerethesought-afterbestofthesystem.Adifferentkindofallowanceneedstobemadeformyothermajorsourceonprocedure.I.Velvovsky,K.Platonov,V.PloticherandE.Shugom,PainlessChildbirthThroughPsychoprophylaxis:LecturesforObstetricians,translated by David A.Myshne (Foreign Languages Publishing House,Moscow 1960) is a manual forexport,offeringanidealisedversionofpsychoprophylacticchildbirthasitwouldhavebeenifimplementedineverySoviethospitalwiththecareitwasgivenintheonehospitalwhereitwasinvented.WhatGalinaexperiencesismybestguessatpsychoprophylaxisasactuallypractised.

6Andthenhewasbacking,dwindling,absentinghimselffromthescene:husbandswereforbiddentoattendchildbirths,oreventovisitduringthemandatoryten-daystayinthehospitalafterwards.Somewillhave been sorrier than others about this, just as somewomenwill have been sorrier than others for theenforcedrestfromfamilylife.SeeHedrickSmith,TheRussians (London,1976),foradescriptionof thegaggleofmencrowdedbeneaththerecovery-wardwindowstoseethebabiestheirwiveswereholdingup,andtoloadeatablesintothebasketsthewomenloweredonstrings.

7Afacebeneaththewhiteflowerpotthatseemedtodisapproveoftheworld:InnaOlegovnaisentirelyfictional, but my sketch of her aunt-like self-righteousness borrows from my memory of the array ofcensorious, reprovingmiddle-agedmenandwomen in the late-Soviet documentary film Is It Easy toBeYoung?

8Everythingwaswhitetiles,butnotverycleanones:seeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion,p.186.Herwitnessreports‘sliminess’.

9She let themidwife take back the gown and put her under a sluggish blood-warm shower: theshower, theenema, theshavingand thepaintingwithdisinfectantwereallstandardprocedure.Having towalkupflightsofstairswhileinlabourwasnotstandardprocedure,buthappenedfrequentlyanyway.

10‘Primipara,’shesaidtotheAngryAunt,standingbywithaclipboard:medicalvocabularyauthentic,and taken from the sample case histories given in Velvovsky et al., Painless Childbirth ThroughPsychoprophylaxis.

11‘Youdidn’tdothepsychoprophylaxisclasses?’:expectantmotherswereintheorysupposedtobeledbypatient stages througha confrontationwith their fearsoverbirthpain, a reassuring explanationof the

physiologyofchildbirthandademonstrationofrelaxationandbreathingtechniques.Infact,inalmosteverycase theclasseswere taughtbymidwivesordoctorswhohadnotbeenspecially trained,anddid indeedconsistmainlyofthe‘stuffabouttakinglotsofwalks’whichGalina’sneighbourreportstoheronthelabourward, with the specifics of what to expect and to do reduced to an unhelpful gabble at the end. Notknowing that therewasanything important to learn,mostwomen, likeGalina,didn’tbother togo.So thepositiveprogrammeofthepsychoprophylacticmethodscarcelytouchedthem,yettheywerestillsubjecttothe prohibition on drugs associatedwith it, andwere still likely to be judged as if difficultywith the painrepresentedafailureofvirtueontheirpart.

12Whenthecontractionscome,breathedeeply:ifthefewbitsofpsychoprophylacticadviceGalinagetsseemvaguelyfamiliar,that’sbecausetheyare.Psychoprophylaxis,inamelancholyirony,isthebasisofthephenomenallysuccessfulLamazemethodfornaturalbirthintheWest.TheSovietideaswerecarriedbacktoParisbytheFrenchdoctor(andcommunist)FernandLamaze,andhumanisedthere–partlybybringinginbirthpartners,andlesspassivepositionsforlabour,andmoresophisticatedtechniquesofauto-suggestion,butmostofallbybeingmadevoluntary.Awoman‘doingLamaze’canaimforabirthwithminimalmedicalinterventionwhile knowing that the pethidine and the gas and the epidurals are there if sheneeds them.PsychoprophylaxismayseemtoGalinaheretobejustanotherformofcompulsorypretence;butitwouldbe equally just to see it as another piece of mangled Soviet idealism, another genuinely promising idearuined by the magic combination of compulsion and neglect. Velvovsky and his colleagues were thecentury’spioneersintryingtoseechildbirthassomethingbetterthananillnesstobeendured.

13 It was really only messages from the subcortex of the brain which you could turn off bystimulating the cortex: one reason for the rapid promotion of psychoprophylaxis to orthodoxy in theUSSRlayinitsuseofaPavlovianframeworkthatdovetailedwithlate-Stalinistideologicalpreferences.Forthe history and personalities involved here, and the role played by this associationwith soon-discreditedscienceinlaterSovietobstetricians’indifferencetothetechniquetheyweresupposedtobepromoting,seeJohnD.Bell, ‘GivingBirth to theNewSovietMan:PoliticsandObstetrics in theUSSR’,Slavic Reviewvol.40no.1(Spring1981),pp.1–16.

14Itmeans they’renot going to giveus anypainkillers: in some hospitals, a single small injection ofpainkillerswasallowed.SeeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion.

15Shehadonlybroughtabowlofwater,andbrisklywipedallthe foreheadsintheroomwithit: theonly thing a midwife was permitted to do for women at this stage of labour, apart from watching forcomplicationswhichmightrequiresurgery.

16Sopullyourselftogetherandbreatheright,oryou’llkillthebaby:anencouragingremarkpassedontotheAmericanjournalistPeterOsnosbythewomanwhohaditsaidtoher.SeeOsnos,‘Childbirth,SovietStyle’.

17Theywere allmashed flies, swatted and left to fester: attested in Eaton,Daily Life in the SovietUnion.

18Babyalreadypapoosedupandwhiskedaway:immediatelyafterbirth,thenewbornwasswaddledinatight roll ofwhite cloth, heldup for themother to see, and then carriedoff to a nursery for twenty-fourhours–apparentlytoreducemother–babytransmissionofinfections,althoughitishardtoseehowthiscanhaveworked.Afterthat,thebabywouldbereturnedforbreastfeeding,theSovietUnionbeing,inonemoreauthoritariancommitment tonaturalness,partlycausedby the faultysupplyofpowderedmilk,anentirelypro-breastsociety.SeeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion,andLee,‘HealthCareintheSovietUnion’.

‘Nomyboys,’ said themerchant, ‘it ishard to livebyright, it iseasier tolivebywrong.Wearecheated,andwemustcheatotherstoo.’

PARTVI

The ‘Kosygin reforms’ of 1965 put a lot more money in factory managers’pockets, but theydidalmostnothing to stop the slowingof the Soviet growthrate. Even according to the generous official figures, there was only a 0.5%upwardblip ingrowthduring theFive-YearPlan that ran from1966 to1970.CIAestimatesputtheeffectatonly0.2%,andrecalculationslatersuggesttheremayhavebeennoimprovementatall.Whatevertheeffect,itwasmomentary:inevery set of figures, official and unofficial, the growth rate then went oninexorably falling and falling, plan period after plan period, trending grimlydownwards towards zero. The growth machine was grinding to a halt.Leviathan’sgearshadjammed.Thiswasoneof thereasonsforKosygin’sownrelative loss of power in the government.He and Brezhnev had been equalswhentheydeposedKhrushchev.Bytheendofthe1960s,KosyginwasjustoneofBrezhnev’sministers,a definite underling to theplacidlywily specialist in‘organisationandpsychology’.Inpoliticalterms,itturnedoutthatthewinningresponsetotheproblemwasnoteventotry.Forhelpwasarrivingfromanunexpecteddirection.In1961,thefirstoilfield

hadbeendiscoveredinwesternSiberia,andby1969geologists–manyworkingout of Akademgorodok – had identified almost sixty of them, brimming withsaleable crude.Theywere just about all on-line and pumping in time for the1973 oil shock,when theworld price for petroleum rose by 400%. Suddenly,insteadofbeingagiantautarchy,tryingtobootstrapitswaytoprosperity,theSoviet Union was a producer for the world market, and it was awash withpetrodollars.Suddenly,itwaspossiblefortheSovietleadershiptobuyitswayout of some of the deficiencies of the economy. If the collective farms stillcouldn’t feed the country, then food could be quietly imported. If the peoplewantedconsumergoods,youcouldbuythetechnologytoproducethem,likethecomplete Fiat car plant assembled on the banks of the Volga. The Brezhnevregimemanaged tomake some everyday luxuries available.Therewere thirtymillionTV sets inSoviet homes in1968, andninetymillionat the endof the1970s;bywhichtime,too,mostSovietfamiliesownedafridgeandamajorityhad a washing machine. Vacations to the sunny beaches of the Black Seabecameordinary.Cigarettesandvodkaandchocolateandperfumewereusuallyontheshelves,evenwhenmilkandmeatwerenot.But the oilwindfallwas nowhere near big enough to pay for the threefold

commitment that Khrushchev had made: to superpower- sized militaryspending, plus abundant consumption, plus a complete new industrial

revolution. They could afford the guns – the Politburo made it a priority tofunnel theoil dollars into fighter planes andaircraft carriers and helicoptergunships–andtheycouldcontrivetofindacertainamountofbutter;butthelimitless,utopianplentythatKhrushchevhadpromisedfor1980haddepended(sofarasitwasplausibleatall)onsuccessfullyreconstructingtheeconomyatthenext levelof technologyandproductivity,and itwas this thatdidnot getfunded.The Soviet economy did not move on from coal and steel and cement to

plasticsandmicroelectronicsandsoftwaredesign,exceptinaveryfewmilitaryapplications. It continued tocompetewithwhatcapitalismhadbeendoing inthe1930s,notwithwhatitwasdoingnow.Itcontinuedtosuckresourcesandhumanlabourinvastquantitiesintoaheavy-industrialsectorwhichhadoncebeen intended toexistasaspringboard forsomethingelse,butwhichbynowhad become its own justification. Soviet industry in its last decades existedbecause it existed, an empire of inertia expanding ever more slowly, yetattaining thewretcheddistinctionofabsorbingmoreof the total effortof theeconomy that hosted it than heavy industry has ever done anywhere else inhumanhistory,beforeorsince.Everyyearitproducedgoodsthatlessandlesscorrespondedtohumanneeds,andwhateveritoncestartedproducing,ittendedto go on producing ad infinitum, since it possessed no effective stop signalsexceptruthlesscommandsfromabove,andthepeopleatthetopnolongerdidruthless,intheeconomicsphere.Thecontrolsystemforindustrygrewmoreandmoreerratic,theinformationflowingbacktotheplannersgrewmoreandmorecorrupt.And theactivityof industry,all thathuman timeandmachine time itusedup,addedlessandlessvaluetotherawmaterialsitsuckedin.Maybenovalue.Maybelessthannone.Oneeconomisthasarguedthat,bytheend,itwasactivelydestroyingvalue; ithadbecomea system for spoilingperfectly goodmaterialsbyturningthemintoobjectsnoonewanted.The gap with American living standards widened again, precipitously. It

became clear by any measurement that the Soviet Union was not going toovertake and surpass. All talk of full communism was abandoned, and in itsplace Brezhnev’s government promoted the idea of ‘developed socialism’, anera in which the USSR could comfortably announce it had already arrived.Developed socialism was due to last a nice long time, with no awkwardtimetable. There only remained the problem of the 1961 Party Programme.Convenient official amnesia engulfed it. Itwasburied in silence, never to bedugupagain.IndeedanémigréjournalreportedtherumourthatwhenacoupleofcitizensinBalashovwhoreallyhadburiedtheProgrammeinahome-madetimecapsuleexhumeditin1980andreaditaloudinpublic,theywerepromptly

arrested under Article 190 of theCriminal Code, for ‘spreading fabricationsanddefamingtheSovietsocialandstateorder’.Suspiciouslyneat,thismaybeanexample,notofaBrezhnev-eraeventbutof

Brezhnev-era Soviet joke-telling, which was sometimes difficult to tell apartfromarealitythatconstantlyvergedonsatire.IfitdidhappenthoughitwouldhavebeenofapiecewiththeBrezhnevanswertoanythingthatseemedtoofferanexplicitchallengeintherealmofideas:alwaysandeverytime,thepolice.Brezhnevhadabolished the IdeologicalCommissionas soonas he tookover.There were to be be no more of Khrushchev’s shouting matches. But whatreplaced exhortationwas enforcement.Gradually, all of the relatively liberalareas of life during the Thaw were closed down. After a last burst ofadventurous releases in 1964–6, Soviet film became a steady progression ofconformistcomediesandtub-thumpingwarspectaculars.Literatureshrivelled.Science, said the Central Committee secretary responsible for it, was to be‘administered’not ‘supported’.Universitiesbecame infestedwith thediscreetlittle unmarked offices of the security service’s Fifth Department, whichscholarswereencouragedtodropintotodenouncetheircolleagues.Thiswastheerawhenthepsychiatrichospitalwaspioneeredasaplaceofpunishmentforpeoplewhomadeanuisanceofthemselves;thiswasthetimewhenaminutefraction of the intelligentsia gave up on the Soviet system altogether andbecame‘dissidents’.On theotherhand,Brezhnev’sgovernmentwasconciliatory towards labour

unrest.Severaltimesinthelate1960sand1970stherewerestrikes,especiallyintheoilindustry,wheretheworkersluredouteasttoworktheSiberianwellsknewtheirownbargainingpower.NeveragainwastheNovocherkassksolutionapplied.Eachtime,aPolitburomemberflewpromptlyoutandnegotiated.Afterall,whattheworkersweredoingwasnodifferent,really,fromwhatthewaiterwasuptointherestaurantwhenhewantedalittlesomethingbeforegivingyouadecenttable,orwhatthesaleswomaninthedepartmentstoremeantwhensheneeded you tomake itworthherwhile to look for your shoe size. Therewasnothing troubling in it; no threat, nomalice. Theywere goodSoviet citizens;theywere just looking out for a little reciprocity in their dealingswith theirfellowcreatures, ty-mne,ya-tebe, ‘you tome and I to you’. All the indicatorssuggest that thevastmajorityof theSovietpopulationwere, indeed,basicallycontentedwiththeirgovernment.Thiswasnothistory’send,witheveryobstacletohuman fulfilment dissolved in the gush from the horn of plenty, but itwasquitecomfortable,especiallycomparedtoearlierSovietdecades.Theworkwaspointlessbutnothard.Theenvironmentwasincreasinglytoxic,buttheconcreteflatswerecosyboxesofwarmth.ThespectacleofSovietpoweronthetellywas

gratifying,andafterthenewswasoverandthemissilelaunchershadrolledby,it’dbetimeforKVN,Klubveselykhinakhodchivykh, ‘theclubof thegayandthewitty’. Lifewas not bad.Nobody bothered you if you didn’t bother them.Thingsseemedtohavesettledintoastatusquothatcouldlastforever.Andifyouwereoneoftherealelite,youhadalittlepersonalexemptionfrom

some of the constraints of theworld you ruled over.You could command thecommandeconomytosimulate,justforyou,alittlebitofwhatyouhadadmiredonyourtripsabroad.Brezhnevhimself,forexample,wasverytakenwithdenimjacketswhenhevisitedAmerica,despitebeingabulky sixty-somethingat thetime.Whenhecamehomehesummonedhistailor,AleksandrIgmand,andhadone made to measure. The problem was the metal buttons. The USSR didn’tmanufacturetherightkind.Soaspecialorderwasputintoasteelfoundry,andback came just enough round American-type metal buttons to ornament onejacket.Asaprocedure,itwastheabsoluteoppositeofthedreamofharnessingthe fecundityofmassproduction:but asBrezhnevdroveout ofMoscowon asummer evening in his jean jacket, black coiffure shining, a tyrant without acause, he could tell himself that thepromiseof abundance had been kept forhim,atleast.

Notes–Introduction

1The ‘Kosygin reforms’ of 1965 put a lotmoremoney in factorymanagers’ pockets: see Ellman,Planning Problems in the Soviet Union. The reforms created, as well as the cash bonus fund formanagers (still tied to theoverfulfilmentof theplan), three ‘incentive funds’ indexed toenterprises’ salesgrowth.Theseweresupposedtostimulatelocalinitiatives,andreceivedabout14%ofprofitsby1968;theirdistribution was strongly skewed towards management and ‘engineering-technical personnel’, with theresult that they reversed the very egalitarian income policy ofKhrushchev’s time, underwhich in someplaces foremenhad received less thanworkers andworkershad earnedmore than allwhite-collar staffwithout technical qualifications. It is also worth remembering that management had very considerablediscretionabouthowthetwonon-cashincentivefunds(for local investmentandworkers’facilities)wereactuallyspent,solongasthebookslookedallright.

2Therewasonlya0.5%upwardblipingrowth:seeabove,notetotheintroductiontopartII,forthefullpanoply of sources on Soviet growth. Figures here from Gregory and Stuart, Russian and SovietEconomicPerformanceandStructure.

3In1961thefirstoilfieldhadbeendiscoveredinwesternSiberia:forthetransformingeffectsoftheSoviet oilstrikes, and their fortuitous timing, see Tony Judt,Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945(London: William Heinemann, 2005); also Nove, Economic History of the USSR, and Shabad, BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

4There were thirty million TV sets in Soviet homes in 1968: figures here from Nove, EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

5Aheavy-industrialsectorwhichhadoncebeenintendedtoexistasaspringboardforsomethingelse,butwhichhadnowbecomeitsownjustification:asseenasearlyasthemid-1960s,withobliquebutinescapableintellectualforce, inthe‘variantcalculation’performedbytheGosplanResearchInstitutefor the1966–70Five-YearPlan. Gosplan’s figures showed that increasing the rateof investment in theeconomywould increase output growth in industry but give onlyminimal extra growth in consumption –0.3% extra consumption growth for nearly 6%more investment. Industrial growth in theUSSR did not

carry over into general prosperity. The linkages were missing. See Ellman,Planning Problems in theUSSR.

6Moreofthetotaleffortoftheeconomythathosteditthanheavyindustryhaseverdoneanywhereelse: farmore, for instance, thanBritain,Franceor theUnitedStates in themost frenzied stages in thehistoryoftheirindustrialrevolutions,orIndiaandChinanow.Inthishighlyspecialisedandfetishisedsense,theUSSRhadindeedovertakenandsurpassed.SeeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

7The control system for industry grewmore andmore erratic: for the everwilder game-playing bymanagement,andevermoredrasticsurprisemovesbyplanners,seeKuznetsov,‘LearninginNetworks’.

8 One economist has argued that, by the end, it was actively destroying value: see Hodgson,EconomicsandUtopia.Hisexampleisthemen’sshirtsounwearablyhideousthat‘evenSovietcitizens’wouldnottouchit,wovenfromcottonthatcouldhavebeensoldontheworldmarketforactualmoney.

9 Indeed an emigré journal reported the rumour: see Dora Sturman, ‘Chernenko and Andropov:IdeologicalPerspectives’,Survey1(1984),pp.1–21.

10Brezhnev-eraSovietjoke-telling:formany,manyrealexamples,seeGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.TheBrezhnevjokehadacharacteristictoneofnear-endearmentaboutit,asifthestupidityofwhatwasbeingmockedwasultimatelycomfortable.Forinstance:theGeneralSecretaryisenteringthethirdhourofhisspeechtothePartyCongresswhenthecomradesfromtheorgansofsecuritysuddenly swoop and arrest a group ofAmerican spies in the audience. ‘Brilliantwork!’ saysBrezhnev.‘But how did you pick them out?’ ‘Well,’ say theKGBmenmodestly, ‘as you yourself have observed,ComradeGeneralSecretary,theenemyneversleeps…’

11Science…wastobe‘administered’not‘supported’:adeliberatechangeofvocabularyafter1965byBrezhnev’s new Central Committee Secretary for Science, Trapeznikov. See Josephson, New AtlantisRevisited.

12Thediscreetlittleunmarkedofficesofthesecurityservice’sFifthDepartment: seeChurchward,SovietIntelligentsia.

13Aminute fraction of the intelligentsia gave up on the Soviet system altogether: Churchward’staxonomyofSovietintellectualsinthe1960sclasses75%ofthemas‘CareeristProfessionals’,withmostof the remainder accounted for by the various wings of the ‘Humanist Intelligentsia’ of the artsestablishment. Everyone in the Akademgorodok sections of this book with the exception of ZoyaVaynshteynandMowouldfallintothe‘LoyalOppositionist’subgroupofChurchward’sCareerists.

14Severaltimesinthelate1960sand1970stherewerestrikes:seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

15Ty-mne,ya-tebe,‘youtomeandItoyou’:theRussianproverbequivalentto‘YouscratchmybackandI’llscratchyours’,butwithparticularblatassociations.Forthisandotherphrasesoftheblatvocabularyofthe1960s–1980s,seeLedeneva,Russia’sEconomyofFavours.

16 The vast majority of the Soviet population were, indeed, basically contented: for the lack ofpressurefrombelowforchange,andtheorigininsteadwithinthePartyofthesystem’scollapseinthelate1980s, seeKotkin,ArmageddonAverted.On the face of it, one of the great historicalmysteries of thetwentieth century should be the question ofwhy theSoviet reformers of the 1980s didn’t even considerfollowing the pragmatic Chinese path, and dismantling the economic structure of state socialism whilekeeping its political framework intact. Instead, the Soviet government dismantled the Leninist politicalstructurewhile tryingwith increasing desperation tomake the planned economywork. But themysteryresolves rather easily if it is posited that Gorbachev and the intellectuals around him, all children of the1930s and young adults under Khrushchev, might strange to say have been really and truly socialists,guarding a loyal glimmer of belief right through the Brezhnevite ‘years of stagnation’, and seizing thechanceafter twodecadesofdelay to return to theirgenerationalprojectofmakinga socialism thatwasprosperous, humane, and intelligent.With disastrous results. This whole book is, in fact, a prehistory ofperestroika.

17Theenvironmentwasincreasinglytoxic:asrevealednotjustinlife-expectancyfigurestrendinggentlydownwards again from the 1960s, but also in falling birth weights and other physical indicators. SeeElizabethBrainerd, ‘Reassessing theStandardofLiving in theSovietUnion:AnAnalysisUsingArchivalandAnthropometricData’,WilliamDavidsonInstituteWorkingPaperno.812(January2006).Availableat

SSRN:http://ssrn.com/abstract=906590.18TimeforKVN,Klubveselykhinakhodchivykh:fortheinfluenceofhumourousSovietTV,seeGraham,

‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.19 Brezhnev himself, for example , was very taken with denim jackets: the story of the General

Secretary’sone-offjeanjacketisinhistailor’smemoir.SeeAleksandrIgmandwithAnastasiaYushkova,YaOdevalBrezhneva(‘IDressedBrezhnev’)(Moscow:NLO,2008).Ifoundit,however,inanEnglish-languagereviewofthebook:AnnaMalpas,‘SuitsYou,Ilyich’,MoscowTimes,14November2008.

Afteralongtimeorashorttime–forspeedilyataleisspun,withmuchlessspeedadeedisdone–

TheUnifiedSystem,1970Acell.Alungcell.Tobaccosmokeswirlsby in thespiredandfoliatedchannelthecellfaces.Itsjobistotakeinoxygenfrombreathandkeepouteverythingelse,andonthewholeitdoeswellfilteringtheusualimpuritiesinair:butthisisnotadesignedmechanism,put together fora functionbyconsciousplan, it isadumbiteration of all the featureswhich have proved by trial and error to serve lungcellswell inthepast.Thepastdidnotincludedeliberately-breathedsmoke.Wecould count an amazing number of different chemicals in the blue-grey vapoursnaking through the tissue, altogether toomanyofwhich thecelldoesnotknowhowtoexclude.Formaldehyde,acetaldehyde,catechol,isoprene,ethyleneoxide,nitricoxide,nitrosamine, thearomaticamines–not tomention thequinones, thesemiquinones, the hydroquinones, a whole family of polycyclic aromatichydrocarbons. We are watching for one of these last. Here it comes now, adrifting,tumblingmoleculeofbenzopyrene.Itsailsintothecell’sbulgingcurtainwalloffatsandsticksthere,likeaninsectcaughtinglue;then,worse,isdraggedthrough,becausethefatcurtainisspikedhereandtherebyreceptors,andoneofthese has the benzopyrene in its grip. The receptor winches the benzopyrenethroughthecurtain,handoverhand,atomoveratom,wrappingitasitcomesinafoldofthecurtain,andthenclosingthefoldbehindit,sothatwhenitreachestheinside, a little fatty envelope buds off from the inner wall of the cell with thebenzopyrene sealed inside it. And floats free, into the warm liquid workspacewherethebodybuildsitsproteins.Butit’sallright.Thecellhasnospecificdefenceagainstbenzopyrene,butitis

not defenceless. It has the powerful standard equipment all mammalian cellsdeploywhenforeignbodiesturnupwherethey’renotsupposedto.Thepackageoffatisaflag,alabel,analert.Detectingit,upcomesanenzymetometabolisethe contents.The enzymemunchs thebenzopyrene intopiecesof epoxidewhichotherbitsofthecellularmachinerycanflushsafelyaway.This has happened over and over again, every time Sergei Alexeyevich

Lebedev lightsacigarette.Therearebillionsofcells in the lungs.Lebedevhassmoked sixty unfiltered Kazbek a day for fifty years. So this has happenedthousandsofbillionsoftimes.

*

Lebedev is wearing his medals. They jingle on his jacket like a drawerful of

cutlery.HeroofSocialistLabour,OrderoftheRedBannerofLabour,twoOrdersofLenin,assortedmilitaryandscientifichonours.Redenamel,nickel,ribbons.Somanyof them that theydragdownhis suit on that side.He’d swearhe can feeltheirweight.Heusedtohavemorechesttohangthemon.Thefleshiscomingoffhimsofastnowthatheseemstobeallteeteringsuperstructure,justbonesleaningtogether.Awobblingtower.Atripodgratinginacoldwind.Themedals are supposed to be a claim for respect.And outside, theywork.

Theygethimapension,rentreductions,lowertaxes,aseatonthemetrowhenit’sstanding roomonly.His life has been easier than theoverwhelmingmajority ofSovietlives,becauseofthem.Butinhereofallplaces,inthislightlesscorridorof the Kremlin, they’re a devalued currency. Everyone has some. The GeneralSecretaryhassomany,he’sontheTVsofrequentlybeingawardedtheOrderofThisorThatorTheOther,that,asthejokesays,ifacrocodileatehim,thepoorcreaturewouldbeshittingmedalsforafortnight.‘TheMinisterdoesknowI’mwaiting,doesn’the?’saysLebedev.

*

Another lung cell. The machines that Lebedev has made all build up theircomplicatedbehavioursfromabsolutelypredictablelittleevents,fromvalvesandthen transistors turning on and off. Definitely on; definitely off. Without anyshading of degree.Without any ambiguity. The machine that makes Lebedev isdifferent. The base layer of its behaviour, from which all the rest emerges, isvarious andmultiple and uncertain. There is no binary simplicity. There is theslowbubble ofmany chemical reactions all happening at once, each continuinguntil a task ismostlydone,probablydone,doneenough to satisfyaprogrammewhichwasitselfonlywhittledoutofrandomnessjustwellenoughtogetby.Theenzyme’sdestructionofbenzopyrene,forexample,onlyflushesmostofitaway.Afractionof theepoxides reactagainwith theenzymeandbecomediolepoxides.That’swhat’shappenedhere;insteadofnice,inert,detoxifiedmolecules,wehaveaversionofthesamethingwhichislackingoneelectronononeofitsatoms,andwhich consequently yearns to stick to any other molecule which will share anelectron with it. The diol epoxides are aggressive gloop. Aggressive? Oneelectron’sworthofelectricchargedoesn’t towamoleculevery fast through thesoupyinteriorofacell: itdoesn’tsend thediolepoxidesstreamingalongat thespeed of light like the electrons in a vacuum tube. But it does exert a tiny,persistentpullonthem.Itdrawsthemalongtowardsmoleculestheymightstickto.Itdrawsthemeverywhereinthecell,andsoitdrawssomeofthemtowardsthecell nucleus, which has another wall of fats around it, but unfortunately is

designed to letmolecules rather like the diol epoxides in and out on the cell’sordinarybusiness.Thehungry,electron-seekingblobofgloopslips through,andthereinfrontofitarefloatingtwenty-threepairsoftemptingtargets:thehuge,fat,friendly,electron-richchromosomesofhumanDNA.Nooneintheworldin1970understandsinanydetailhowtheywork,andthe

ignorance is particularly bad in the Soviet Union, thanks to Lysenko. But thechromosomesworkwhethertheyareunderstoodornot.Thegloopdriftsin;andatany and every point along the endless coiled helix where it happens to makecontact,theglooplockson.Whereitjostlesforwardwithitsmissingelectrontoembrace one of theDNA’s electrons, there’s a little chemical reaction, and theelectroninquestionbondstoboththeDNAandthegloop.Thegloopisnowan‘adduct’, glued to thehelix.But thehelix is changed too, byhaving thebloboftobaccoresiduestucktoit.Atthepositionwheretheadductsits,theinformationintheDNAhasbeencorrupted.InsteadoftheG,T,CorAthatshouldbethere,inthefour-letteralphabetofthegenome,itreadsasoneoftheotherlettersinstead.Theadducthaswrittenanerrorintothecode.Butit’sallright.Inthevastmajorityofpositionsalongthegenomewheregoo

might attach itself at random, altering one letter won’t produce any significantmutation, even if the alteration lasts. The genome is Lebedev’s software, butunlikesoftwarewrittenbyhumans,itisnotasetofprocedurespackedend-to-end,allofwhichatleastpurporttodosomething.Itisajumbleoflegacycodespreadoutinfragmentsthroughawholevoluminouslibraryofnonsense.Almostalways,a random change of letter will either hit some existing nonsense, or turn somesense into new nonsense.And because the chromosomes come in pairs,with aversion of every chromosome contributed by Lebedev’s mother floating thereoppositeaversionfromhisfather,ifsomesenseontheversionononesideturnstononsense,theequivalentpieceontheotherversionwillgoonmakingsensejustfine.Dangerousmutations usually only happen in the rare caseswhere sense isaccidentally turned into different sense.Which is not what has happened here.Here,thearrivingmoleculehasglueditselfwhereitmakesnodifferenceatall.Thishashappenedbillionsoftimes.

*

‘MinisterKosyginisextremelybusy,’saysthewomanbehindthedesk.Sheisinherlatethirties,withacynicaldrooptohermouth.Nevertheless,sheismadeuplike a plumpdoll,with pink circles onher cheeks and eyelids paintedmetallicblue. The curls of her hairdo shine as if they were parts of a single piece ofplastic.‘AsItoldyou,hecan’tsaywhenhewillbefree.Heapologisesfornot

keeping your appointment, but suggests youmight prefer to return another day.’Almostwordforword,sheisrepeatingwhatshesaidwhenLebedevarrived,anhourormoreago.‘It’sfine,’saidLebedev.‘I’mhappytowait.’Shecompressesherlips;sniffs.Thedoorshekeepsisattheendofapanelled

passage lost to sunlight. When it opens, as it does occasionally, some palereminderofdayslipsout,andthesoundoftyping,buttherestofthetimeitmightaswellbemidnightwhereLebedevissitting,onabenchbythewall.Thelamponherdeskglowsinthegloomlikethelanternradiatingatthecentreofsomeverybrownoldpainting,thekindwherethehumanfiguresalmostvanishintothesootand the varnish.Lebedevwishes the thin cushion beneath himwere thicker, forthesedayshisbuttocksseemtohavebeenreplaced,forsitting,bytwosoreanglesofbone like theoutercornersofacoathanger.Heaches.Hewaits.There isn’tmuchtolookat.It’sawonderthattherubberplantsurvivesdownhere:perhapsithas found some alternative to photosynthesis. On her desk she has only theappointment book, a telephone and a bowl of peppermints to be offered tofavoured passers-by. He has not been given one. She turns the pages of hermagazine with short pink fingers. When he coughs she clicks her tonguedisgustedly.True, it isadisgustingnoisehemakes. Itbeginsasacommonplacewheeze inhis throat,but tumblesdown intohischestwhere ithacksand rattlesandaudiblymoves clotsof viscouswet stuff around, till thewet stuff hasbeendraggedupintohisairway,andhe’sinagasping,garglingstruggletogetitoffhisepiglottis, and out, so that he can breathe again.He spits into his handkerchief,clean thismorning, now stiff and crusty, stainedwith nameless emulsions.He’sbeenbringingupthetraditionaljademayonnaiseofbronchitiseverywinterforaslong as he can remember, but this is something different, something thicker andredder and meatier, like liquescent liver. He folds the handkerchief away, andtriestomusterhispersuasivepowers.

*

Another lungcell.Thesoft rainfallofgloopontoLebedev’sDNAcontinues.Bychance, this particular sticky drop in the statistical rain is one of the smallminoritythatisgoingtolandsomewherethatmatters.Bychance,itisfallingontoastretchofcodeonChromosomenumber11whichscientistswillknowlaterasthegeneras,orhRas.Theelectrophilenosesin;itsuckerson;theguanine(G)ithassuckeredontoonthehelixnowreads,forallintentsandpurposes,ascytosine(C).Andthistime,ithappensthatchangingGtoCcreatessense,notnonsense,inthe code.Raswith aC in it at this specific position is a viable and functional

pieceofsoftware.Butmuchmoreofachangeisinprospectthantherewouldbeifsomeonesubstitutedanewprogrammefortheonethatwassupposedtoberunninginacomputer.Human-madesoftwareisonlyaninformationalghost,temporarilygivenpossessionofthemachineandallowedtochange0sto1sandviceversa.Thesoftwareofhumans,ontheotherhand,actuallybuildsthehardwareitrunson.Itcreatesthemachine.Soamutationinthecodemeansamutationinthebodytoo,iftheerrorendures.Ras isoneofthegenesthatcontrolcellgrowthandcelldivision.Inadults, it

switchesonandoffperiodicallytogovernthenormalcycleofthecell’sexistence.You wouldn’t want it switched on all the time. Foetuses in the womb run rascontinually to generate all the new tissue that the Build-A-Human programmedemandswhen a human is being first assembled.Otherwise, cellmultiplicationmusthappenwhen,andonlywhen,thebodypartthecellisinneedsanewcell.But it’s theswitchthathasbeenalteredbyhavingCwhereGusedtobe in thismutantversionofras.CinsteadofGatthisoneparticularpointjamstherasgeneat‘on’–throwstheleverforunstoppablegrowth,andthenbreaksthelever.Butit’sallright.Thiscopyofrasmaybecorrupted,butthecellhasafailsafe

mechanismbuiltintotheshapeoftheDNAmolecules.Thehelixisadoublehelix.OntheothersideofthedoublecorkscrewthererunsanotherstrandofGs,Ts,CsandAswhichcarriesalltheinformationofthegenome,onlyinreverse,likethenegative of a photograph or the mould a jelly was turned out of; and the cell,which is used to operating in an environment of small chemical accidents,operates a handy editorial enzyme that moves up and down the chromosomeschecking that the two strands remain perfect opposites. The editorial enzymedoesn’tfindabsolutelyallofthechangestheadductsgummedtoLebedev’sDNAhave made, but it finds most of them, the harmless and the harmful alike,methodically correcting each littlemutation. It finds this one.ThenewC in themutantversionofRASononesideclasheswiththeexistingConthereverseside.C against C isn’t a legitimate opposite. A quick editorial snip, and there’s theoriginalGagain.Lebedev’sfactorysettingshavebeenrestored.Thishashappenedmillionsoftimes.

*

‘Minister,’ saysLebedev inside his head, ‘I know that the decision has alreadybeentaken,butImustdrawyourattention–Imustaskyoutoconsider–Imustquestionthewisdom–Imust–Imust–’What’s this? A bulky middle-aged man is strolling up the corridor towards

them, brush-cut black hair gleaming in the lamplight, hands the size of hams

playinglittle tunesontheair,equablesmileonhisface.ForamomentLebedevthinks the General Secretary himself is upon them, but it isn’t; it’s one of theregional Party bosses, he forgets the man’s name, who thanks to the magicalosmosis of power all tend to look faintly Brezhnev-ish these days, just as thelittlerbossesusedtoresembleKhrushchev,asfaras theycould,andbefore thatStalin.ThecheerygazepassesoverLebedevas if theairwereemptywherehesits on the bench, and settles on the doorkeeper. Mr Belorussia, or is it MrMoldavia,winks.Sheblushesandreachesahanduptohermeringue-hardhair.‘Hello,Frenchie,’hesays.‘IsHimselfavailable?’Immediately shewigglesout frombehind thedesk and click-clacks across in

herheelstoopenthebigdoorforhim.Sheisnotthinandshefillsthewholeofherknee-lengthskirt.AsMrKiev(orisitMrVolodyavostok)stepsdeftlythroughtheslotofdaylightshe’ssummoned,hewhisperssomethingthatmakeshergiggleanddropsacasuallyproprietorialhandontoherroundbehind.Thesimperhasn’tquiteleftherfaceasshepullsthedoortoagain,butitvanisheswhensheseesthedirection of Lebedev’s haggard gaze. Though as gazes go, this one is virtuallyabstract,therebeingsolittleleftinhimtorespondtosuchthings.‘Hmph,’shesays.Notforyou.‘AreyouFrench,then?’asksLebedev.Sheonlyglowers.

*

Anotherlungcell.Thereisawayforablobofgootocausearasmutation thatpersists.Thegummyelectron-seekingmissilehastoarrive,andglueGintoCintheexactrightplace,attheexactrightmomentinthelifeofthecellwhenforoncethe enzyme cannot compare ras to its negative. That is, when the lung cell isalreadybusydividingintotwolungcells.Thegoofloatsin,andfindsinsidethenucleusadoublehelixwhichhasbeenunzippedintotwoseparatestrands,eachofwhich is going to grow back into a complete copy of the genome. Of all therandomblobsofgoo in the randomrainstorm,herecomes theblob that suckersontoChromosome11inthepositiontocreatethealways-onversionofras,justasthe unzipped halves of Chromosome 11 are waving loose. It’s too late for theeditorialenzyme:there’snothingtocorrectthemutantCagainst.Alongthestrandinstead travels a polymerase, a construction enzyme, steadily building out theotherhalfofanewdoublehelix.AndwhenitreachestheC,itobliginglysuppliesanewcounterpartfortheothersidewhichisamatch,whichisaperfectopposite.The corrupted code has reproduced itself. After awhile, there are two sets ofcompletedchromosomepairsinthenucleus.Theypullawayfromeachother.Thenucleus stretches, puckers out like dumb-bells, splits into two aswell.Last the

outsidewallofthecellrepeatsthesplit,stretchingandpullingandpuckeringbackintoapairofseparatefattyspheres.Onecontainsras initsoriginaluncorruptedform,butbeside itLebedevnowhasanewlungcellwithras switchedon in itforever.Andimmediatelyrastakeschargeofthecellularmachineryandstartsthebuild-up to superfast cellmultiplication.A cell running ras full-timewon’t co-operate with nearby cells in any other task. It isn’t interested, for example, inbeingpartofalung.Binaryatlast,itonlywantstobecometwocells,fourcells,eightsixteenthirty-two–Butit’sallright.Thebodyisusedtooccasionalrunawayaccidentswithras.It

hasonelastdefencemechanism.Asrasgoescrazy,anothergene,awayoveronChromosome 17, detects the molecular signature of the build-up and neatly,swiftly,initiatescellsuicide.Thecelldies.Withitgoesthemutantras.Thishashappenedthousandsoftimes.

*

Whatisthetactful,theeffectivewayofannouncingthatyourlife’sworkhasbeenwasted?On 18 December last year Lebedev sat in a meeting at Minradioprom, the

Ministry of Radio Production, and heard the assembled bigwigs of governmentand the Academy talk themselves into destroying the Soviet computer industry.Thatwasn’t quite how they put it, of course. The questionwaswhatmodel ofmachine to develop for theUnified Systemwhichwas supposed tomanage theeconomyinthe1970s.Ontheonesidelaythepossibilityofdesigningtheirownstandardisedrangeofnext-generationmainframes.OntheotherwasaproposaltocopythefamilyofmachineswhichwerethestandardcommercialsolutionintheWest, the IBM 360 series. Everyone at the meeting paid compliments tohomegrownSoviet technology,but theyhad talkedabout it,mostof them,as therisky option. Theywere charmed by the safety of choosing an existing productwithexisting,well-establishedsoftware.Andsotheyhadgonewithsafe,despiteallhecoulddo.But safe was an illusion. He had tried and tried and yet somehow failed to

conveythesimpletruththat, if theychoseIBM,theywouldnot, infact,getIBMmachines.TheywouldnotgetIBMsoftware.TheywouldnotgetIBMreliability.ThesethingswerenotavailablefordeliverytotheSovietUnion.Theywouldbecommitting themselves, instead, to reverse-engineering the IBM360 in thedark,withlimiteddocumentationandnooriginalmodelofa360todismantle.Itwouldtakeyears.And the360hadbeen introduced in1965! Itwashalf adecadeoldbeforetheefforttocopyitevenbegan.Sotheywouldbecondemningthemselves

not just to imitation, but to perpetual obsolescence as well. They’d be foreverchasing the prospect of doingwhat theAmericans had already done, years andyearsbefore.Oh, therewould stillbe the specialmilitarymachines tobuild, toguide the smashingofatomsand the launchingofcosmonauts,but there’dbenogeneralflowering.There’dbenomoreofthecontestbetweenthedesignbureauswhichhadkepttheInstituteforPrecisionMechanicsracingforprocessingspeedagainst the Institute of Electronic Control Machines and the Institute ofCybernetics and SKB-245. There’d be no more glorious eccentricities, likeBrusentsov’s trinaryprocessorat theUniversityofMoscow, theonlyone in theworld to explore three-state electronics. There’d be no pushing outward at thefrontierof theachievable.There’dbenodesignanymore,properlyconsidered;justslow,disconsolatecopying.Onlyafoolwouldchoosesafetyontheseterms.SurelyKosygincanbebrought

to see it?Tactfully.Effectively. ‘Minister –’ButLebedevhas begun to sag.Hepeersathiswatchinthegloom.It’shours,now,thathe’sbeenwaitinghereinthelabyrinth.Boneacheisbeingjoinedbyafeverthatrisesupthroughhisemaciatedbodylikehotmist.There’safilmofdamponhisforeheadandthings insidehismindarelosingtheirclarityandstartingtomeltintoeachother.

*

Another lung cell. Chance upon chance upon chance upon chance. Of all thebillionsofcells inLebedev’s lungs, therewillbesomemillionswhere thediolepoxide gum from his cigarettes stuck itself, not to ras, but to the gene onChromosome17thatinitiatesemergencycellsuicide;andofthosemillionstherewillbesomethousandswherethecrucialblobblewinjust intimetolandonastrandofDNAin themidstofcelldivision,andgot itselfcopied.So, scatteredhere and there through the billions of cellswhose little bulgingwindowsof fatface the channels of the lung, there are some thousands, randomly distributed,wherethesuicidegeneonChromosome17,latertobecalledP53,isn’tworking.Here’soneofthem.Andintoit,afterfiftyyearsofdeliciousKazbeksmoke,therefliesonemorerandommoleculeofgoo,andittravelsstraighttorastoscramblethevitalGintoC,and itarrives just in time, too, toevade theeditorialenzymeandgetcopiedintoanewcell.Andit’snotallright.Thenewcellwithmutantrasinchargeofitisatumour

unbound, freed from the body’s safety systems to multiply and multiply,unstoppably,selfishly,altogetherindifferenttoitseffectonLebedev’slung,andonLebedev.Thisonlyhastohappenonce.

*

Lebedevstartstocoughagainandthistimehecan’tstop.There’snofarsidetoit,noendtoit;it’slikeputtingoutanarmtobalanceyourselfandfindingthere’snowall to lean on anymore. He tumbles down and down into the cough. It’s allmucus in there, no air, no air, andhe can’t bringup the lumpofnoxiousmatterthat’sblockedhispassages andhecan’tgetoutof the struggle to shift it either.He’s choking. His ears roar. His vision pocks with little breeding asterisks oflight,coagulatedacrossthedimsfumatoofthecorridor.Hisheaddropsbetweenhisknees.Hack.Hack.Hack.Panic,andbeyondpanictothethresholdofadizzyindifference. Then the obstruction comes free, drops out as a vile, metallicmouthful.Shaky-handedwiping;spitting;wiping.‘Comrade?’Hisvisionclears todarkness.She’sstandingoverhim,holdingoutherwater

glass,glaringathimwithreluctantpity.‘Youshouldgohome,’shesays.‘I’llwait,’hesays.‘Itdoesn’tmatterhowlong.’‘No,’shesays,‘youshouldgohome.Don’tyouunderstand?’

*

The effects of carcinoma in amajor airway include shortness of breath,weightloss,bonepain,chestandabdominalpain,hoarseness,difficultyswallowingandchronic coughing. Metastasis to spine, liver and brain is common: furthersymptoms may then include muscle weakness, impotence, slurred speech,difficulty walking, loss of fine motor co-ordination, dementia and seizures.Radiotherapy is of limited effectiveness. Fluid build-up behind the lungobstructioneventuallyleadstopneumoniaanddeath.This,unfortunately,iscertain.

Notes–VI.1TheUnifiedSystem,1970

1Acell.Alungcell:themolecularbiologyofthischapterisaccurateasfarasitgoes,andIamassuredthatthedwindlingprobabilitiesofthemoleculareventsinitareatleastoftherightordersofmagnitude.Butitshould be remembered that the chapter only follows one possible route by which one toxin in tobaccosmokecaninduceonevarietyoflungcancer.Therearemanyotherroutes,othertoxins,andothercancers,soarealisticpathtowardscarcinogenesiswouldbemuchlesslinearthanthesimpleillustrativezoomIhaveselected here. It would trace its way in massive parallel through a massively forking labyrinth ofprobabilities.Idrewheavilyon–inhaledheavilyfrom–TheodoraR.Devereux,JackA.TaylorandJ.CarlBarrett, ‘Molecular Mechanisms of Lung Cancer: Interaction of Environmental and Genetic Factors’,Chest1996,109;14–19;andonStephenS.Hecht, ‘Tobaccocarcinogens, theirbiomarkersand tobacco-inducedcancer’,NatureReviewsCancer3,October2003,pp.733–44.IamalsoindebtedtoDrClaerwen

Jamesforenlightenmentviaconversationandemail.2 Lebedev has smoked sixty unfiltered Kazbek a day for fifty years: I’m making up the specific

numbers,buthe’sknowntohavebeenapersistentlyheavysmoker.SeeMalinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing,p.26.

3Hero of Socialist Labour,Order of theRedBanner of Labour, twoOrders of Lenin: Lebedev’sauthentic ironmongery. TheOrders of Lenin are the biggest deal. For the fringe benefits of the variousSovietmedals,seetheWikipediaentriesforeach.

4As the joke says, if a crocodile ate him: authentic. See, again,Graham,ACultural Analysis of theRusso-SovietAnekdot.

5‘TheMinisterdoesknowI’mwaiting,doesn’the?’saysLebedev:thisscene,upatthemacroscaleof the dark corridor in the Kremlin, is a fantasia generated from the single true fact (for which seeMalinovsky, Pioneers of Soviet Computing, p. 26) that Lebedev did drag himself to a meeting withKosygin in1970,whenhehada ‘life-threateningpulmonary illness’, to remonstrateabout thedecision inDecember1969toabandonindependentSovietcomputerdesigninfavouroftrailingafterIBM,yearslate;andKosygindidrefusetoseehim.Butinlife,thepalming-offtooktheformofanunsatisfactoryencounterwithoneofKosygin’sdeputies,notthecompletestonewallingthathappenshere,andnodoubtithappenedinbrightdaylight.

6And the ignorance isparticularlybad in theSovietUnion: for a sense ofwhat Sovietmedicine didknow,clinically,aboutcancerinthemid-sixties,seethevividdescriptionsofdiagnosisandradiotherapyinAleksandrSolzhenitsyn’sbannedCancerWard, translatedbyNicholasBethell andDavidBurg (London:BodleyHead,1968).

7On 18December last year Lebedev sat in ameeting atMinradioprom:Malinovsky has a partialtranscript of the discussion at this crucialmeeting,whichwas complicated by political rivalries betweendifferentbureauxwhichstoodtoloseorgaindependingwhichwaythedecisionwent,andbythefactthatLebedevandhisallies’proposaltomaintainnativeSovietdesigncapabilitycamewithasecondaryplantocooperate with ICL in Britain. See Pioneers of Soviet Computing, pp. 130–2. For the IBM-modelled‘UnifiedSystem’as itactually inchedintoexistence in the1970s, lateateverystage,seeN.C.DavisandS.E.Goodman,‘TheSovietBloc’sUnifiedSystemofComputers’,ComputingSurveysvol.10no.2(June1978),pp.93–122.

8Brusentsov’s trinary processor at theUniversity ofMoscow: seeMalinovsky,Pioneers of SovietComputing,pp.134–8.

9Fluid build-up behind the lung obstruction eventually leads to pneumonia and death:despite thetoneofclinicalcertaintyhere,IdonotknowwhatkindofcarcinomaSergeiLebedevcontracted,orevenforsurethathis‘seriouslungdisease’wascancer,thoughitseemsoverwhelminglylikely.Buthediddieofit,whateveritwas,inJuly1974;thefuzzyundesignedprobabilisticmachineryofhisbodydid,inonefashionoranother,generatethedeterministicprocessrequiredtoshifthim,conclusively,from1to0.

PoliceintheForest,1968‘Mama? Listen to this,’ saidMax, whose bookwas propped against the jar ofrowanberrypreserveonhis sideof thebreakfast table.Maxwasonlynormallycleveratalgebra;hewasnotespeciallygoodatplayingchess;hedidnotcravethe use of telescopes or gaze hungrily at the Computer Centre, like some ofAkademgorodok’s children. What Max liked was to read, and read, and read,anythinghecouldgethishandson,fromnonsensepoetrytoadventurestories,butparticularly anything thatwasdenseand spikyandgavehimsomething to chewover.Youcouldnevergivehimabetterpresentthanabook.Helaughedatadultjokesshedidn’tthinkheoughttobeabletoseejustyet,suddendeepchucklesthatseemedtoconjureupclose–tooclose,toosudden–themanhe’dbe,amanwho,ifhewasgoingtobeextremelygoodatanything,wasgoingtobeextremelygoodatwords.Itwasaworry.Thiswasawonderfulplacetogrowupifyouwereabuddingphysicist, butwherewas a goodplace for a buddingpoet?Were thereany?HemightatleastbebetteroffbackinLeningrad.Therewasathoughttoholdonto:somethinghemightconceivablygain,herlittlehostage,draggedaroundbyherdecisions,iftodaywentassheexpecteditwould.‘Mama?’‘What?’‘I’mjustgettingtotheendofthisscience-fictionbook,andthey’reatakindof

place that gives wishes, like a genie, only it’s alien technology, and it’s verydangerous? And there’s a sillyman and a toughman, and the sillyman rushesforward, and hemakes this kind of enormouswish for everybody in thewholeworldtobehappy,butthealienthingsquisheshiminstead.AndIwaswondering,ifit’ssupposedtobeakindofa–akindofa–’‘Ametaphor?’‘Yes?Imeanasortofasidewayspicture.Youknow.Ofhere.’‘Showme.’ Zoya licked her fingers, andMax passed her the book over the

black bread and the yoghurt.Happiness for everybody, she read whereMax’sfingerwaspointing.Free!Asmuchasyouwant!Nobodywillleaveunsatisfied!Andthenhewassuddenlysilent,asthoughahugefisthadpunchedhiminthemouth.Sheflippeditovertolookatthespine.RoadsidePicnic.Well,well.‘Maybeit’sacoincidence,’saidMax.‘No it isn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s theauthorbeingclever, likeyou.Right; comeon,

then,MrLiterature.Hopskip.Timeforustogetmoving.’

BythefrontdooroftheflatMaxgavehisusual,resigneddemonstrationthathissatchelcontainedhomeworkworkbooktextbookpencils.Attenhemislaidobjectswithsuchspectacularfacilitythatitwasasifallbagsandpocketshehadanythingtodowithconnected tosecretexits fromtheworkadaycosmos;hehad taken tospreadinghishandsandraisinghiseyebrowswhenthingsvanished,actingoutthebemusedshtickofastagemagician,andshedoubtedthathisclassteacherfounditvery charming. She pulled her coat on over her labcoat and they wrappedthemselvesupinscarvesandglovesandwoollyhats.Itwastheendofwinter,butstillaroundfifteenbelowzerooutside,drySiberiancold.TereshkovaStreetwaschurnedtoahardblackchaoslikethesurfaceofafilthy

sea.Better to take the route toMax’s school behind andbetween the apartmentbuildings,onthesnowypathsunderthetrees.Itwasoldsnownow,creakingandsnappingunderfootastheysteppedthroughitscrust.Theskywasslaty-dark.Fromtheblockaheadandtotheleft,acolumnofwhitewasstillrisingfromthewindowoftheapartmentwhereadesperatetenanthadcrackedopenthecommunalsteam-pipe to get some heat. Their breaths rose in smaller columns. Max’s nosesharpened to a bright pinkpoint.A flight of computer programmerswent byoncross-countryskis,flickflick,flickflick,betweentheblackuprightsofthepines.Across the crunching expanse ofMorskoi Prospekt,where the next grade up ofapartment buildings glowed oxblood and ochre in the gloom, and the boxed-inwoodenbalconiestwinkledwithlightslikeharemwindowsintheArabianNights.Uphill towards the Presidium a blood-orange of a sun was just hoisting itselfabovethehorizon:downhill,inthedirectionoftheObSea,youcouldhardlyseeanythinginthedarkness.Thebeachwasforskatinginwinter,ifyouwerehardyenough,andforhookingriver-fishthroughholessawedintheice.School 21 lay in the town’s grandest zone, among theAcademicians’ houses.

Here the sidewalkswere swept, and they joined a steadily increasing traffic ofother kidswith satchels, trudging along. Shewas the only parent, so far as shecouldsee.Maxtoohadbeentakinghimselftoschooltheselastcoupleofyears,buton thisparticulardayshewanted towalkhimright to thegate,andactuallywatch him go in, under the wretched centennnial banner of Lenin blessing thechildren.‘Max–’shesaid.‘Hey,thatprofessoryouusedtodancewithiswavingtoyou.’She looked across the street and there, to be sure, was Leonid Vitalevich,

climbingoutofhisgreenVolgaandflappinganaffablehand.Inanyoneelse,thiswouldrepresentaverypublicdeclarationofsolidarity,underthecircumstances,butwithLeonidVitalevich,youcouldnevertellwhathehadnoticed,orchosentonotice.Thiswasthemanwho,theysaid,hadtriedtoposeamathematicalproblem

toeachofthecandidateswhenhisinstitutewasdecidingwhotonominatetotheAcademy;genuinelynotrealising,sotheysaid,thatthefixwasinfromtheoutset.HehadalwaysbeenverypleasanttoZoya,thoughitwasawhilenowsincetherehad been one of the old interdisciplinary seminars. Cybernetics was not themeetinggrounditusedtobe.Shesmiledandwavedback;butLeonidVitalevichmusthaveputhisfootonaslipperypatchbecause,ba-boomp,downhewentintoaheapofblackcoatandsplayedlegs.Acrumpledoldcrow,withitsfeathersonend.HisdriverhurriedroundtopickhimupandhelpedhimawayupthepathtotheAcademicians’club.Oneofapairofolderboyssnickered.Hisfriendpunchedhimcheerfullyonthe

shoulder.‘Movealong,movealong,nothingtosee,’hesaid.‘Justanotherfatlittlezhid

fallingonhisarse.’Zoya glared, andwould have said something, butMax gave her a very adult

look.Hewasprobablyright.Itwaseverywhere,now;notjustspewingoutofthemouthsof teenagers,but fromtheirparents in the institutes,andfromstudentsattheuniversity.There’dbeenacaselastwinterwhensomeoftheRussiankidsinadormdecideditwouldbeagoodjoketolocktheJewsoutinthecoldovernight.They’dputupahand-painted sign sayingACHICKENISN’TABIRDANDAJEWISN’TAMAN.‘Whatwere you going to say,Mama?’ askedMax. ‘The bell’s going. I’ll be

late.’‘Just–nottobesurprisedifthingsareabit…unpleasanttoday.Ifyougettold

somebadstuffaboutme.’‘Don’tworry,’saidMax.‘I’llkeepmycool.Kostyatoldmewhattodo.Bye–’

andhewasoff, runningfor thegate,beforeshecouldembarrasshimbykissinghim.

*

The sun was fully up as she recrossed Morskoi, spilling a brightening orangewashacross thegroundandweavingaconfusionofshadowsround the treesonthe far side. Her lips burned with the cold, and she could taste the sluggishgasoline vapours left in the air by the passing buses. It was going to be fine,though:blueastheeyeinapeacock’sfeather,overhead.Herspiritslifteddespiteherself.Shehadalwayslovedtheforestbest,aboutlivinghere;andtheforestwasstilltheretobedelightedin,onthewalktowork,evenwhentheotherpleasuresof Akademgorodok had closed down, when people no longer trusted in thetrustworthiness of strangers, when you could no longer hear a thousand

conversations about people’s work, nuclear fusion in the post office queue,ecologyinthecinema,sociologyatthelaundry.Theforestremained.Inwinterthecanopyofthesilverbirchesturnedtoaleaflesstracery,withdark

littleseed-ballsamongtheslender twigs:nodes inanetwork toocomplex tobegrasped by the eye and moving, moving, as a bitter breeze stirred through thetreetops. The pines kept their needles, greenish-black under their outlining offrost.Youwouldthinkitwastoocoldforthereceptorsinthehumannosetowork,but somehow the resinous smell still penetrated, cold and slow, thick as coughmedicine.Shesteppedacrossthecracklingwhitenessbetweenthepaletrunksandthered.Otherfigureswereinmigrationthroughthewoodaroundher,butsolitary,outof rangeof eachother.Shewasnot especiallypleasedwhen she roundedacorner in the path and foundValentin waiting under a tree for her, hugging hisshouldersandpuffingoutclouds.‘Goodmorning,’hesaid.SincehewenttoPraguetheyearbefore,hehadgrown

hisblondhairoutlongeranddevelopedaridiculousmoustachewhichcontinueddownfromthecornersofhismouthtothebottomofhischininstragglylines.VeryCzech,veryyoung,nodoubt;buthehadalittlebellythesedaysunderhissuedecoat,andtwotoddlersathome.Pastyourprime,myboy,shethought.‘Yes?’‘I’vegot thenext instalmentofyour researchmoney.’Noneed toaskwhyhe

washandingheranenvelopeinawood,whensofarassheknewthegrantsfromtheFakelcollectivewereentirelylegalandaboveboard.Themoneywasn’t theproblem.Itwasbeingseenwithher.‘I’mnotsurethere’smuchpoint,’shesaid.‘Idon’tthinkthere’sanypointinushangingontoit,’hesaid.‘Wedon’tknow

how much longer we’ll be going.’ Fakel had been a roaring, and then anembarrassing,success.ItdidcontractprogrammingworkforenterprisesalloverSiberia, and themoneyhadpoured in so fast thatatonepoint, so theysaid, theAkademgorodokKomsomolhadhadtwomillionroublesinitsbankaccount.Theyhad been hastily spending it on goodworks ever since: research grants, sportsevents,theFestivalofBardsscheduledfortonight.‘Really?’‘Haven’tyouheard?They’reclosingallthesocialclubs.“UndertheIntegral”,

theCyberneticsKaffee-klatch,thelot.Ourbetiswe’llbegoneinafortnight.’‘I’msorry,’shesaidawkwardly.‘Yes;well.Soyoumightaswelltakeit.Goon.Itmight,youknow,beuseful.’Sheputtheenvelopeinherpocket,andcastaroundforsomefriendlyresponse.‘Isawyourgeniusjustnow,’sheoffered.‘LeonidVitalevich?Notreallymygeniusanymore,youknow?Ihaven’treally

donemuchattheInstitutesincetheFakelstuffbegan.’‘Theysayhe’ssavingthesteel-tubeindustrynow,sincetheywouldn’t lethim

savetheworld?’‘Mm,’saidValentin.‘Weren’tyoutempted?’sheteased.‘I’msureit’simportantwork…’Mistake.Valentindidn’tsmile;heroundedonher,redinhischeeksandmisery

inhiseyes.‘Did you ever think’, he hissed, ‘that if you weren’t so fond of laughing at

people,youmightnotbeinthismess?Idon’tunderstandyou.Idon’tunderstandyouatall.Howcanyoubesoirresponsible?Howcanyoubesoselfish?It’sasifyouthinkyou’retheonlypersonintheworld.Therestofuspaytoo,youknow.God! If IwereyouI’dbeshittingmyself!Don’tyouevencarewhathappens toyourson?’‘Fuckoff,Valentin,’ shesaid,andwalkedaway.She thought theconversation

was over, but after fiftymetres or so,with her hand pressed to hermouth, sheheardthequickcrunch-crunchofhisfeetrunningafterher.‘Zoya,wait,’hesaid.‘What?’‘Imeanttosay–areyoustillseeingKostya?’‘What?’‘Areyouandhestill–youknow–?’‘That’sreallynoneofyourbusiness,isit?Itneverbloodyhasbeen.’Incredibly,heputhishandonherarm.Sheshookitoff.‘Zoya,Ijustneed–’‘ForGod’ssake,’shesaid.‘Leavemetomyirresponsibility,eh?’Thistimehedidn’tfollow.‘Areyouallright?’hesaidtoherdepartingback.‘I’mfine,’shesaid.‘I’mfine.’Somuch for the peace of the forest. The rest of theway to the institute, she

thought about Kostya. They were not, as it happened, seeing each other in thesense that Valentin had meant, and they hadn’t been for some time. It was herdoing.Shehadenjoyedthecradle-snatchingaspectoftheaffair,tobehonest;butshe had not wanted it to grow into a decisive factor in her life. She had beenmarriedonceandthatwasenough.Shehadlikedsmugglinghiminandoutoftheapartment at timeswhenMaxwould not have tomeet him – snatching the twohoursofSaturdayafternoonwhenMaxwasattheYoungInventors’Club,andthengoingtopickhimup,secretlyaliveandawakenedinherclothes,herlipsalittlepuffywithkissing,thetasteofKostyastillinhermouth.Hewasnotabraggartoranoaf,andhehadletherbegentlyeducational.Buttheywereatdifferentstagesintheirlives.Hehadwantedmorethanherspareafternoons,hehadwantedtobe

inloveandtobelovedbackandforwhatwashappeningbetweenthemtobethethingthatsetthestoryofhislife,oratleastthestoryofthatpartofhislife.Itwasunderstandable.Hewasinhismid-twenties.Heexpectedthingstobecumulative,tomakesense.Heexpectedevents tocutan intelligible figure in theairas theywentby.Andsoshebroughtthingsquietlytoanend,sothathecouldgooffandfallinloveelsewhere;have,withsomeoneelse,apassionwithanarrativetoit.Afterwhich, she could finally introducehim toMax, andmakeofhima familyfriend. They got along:Kostya could offer advice on negotiating theworlds ofboysandmen.Anditwasforhertocope,quietly,withthejealousiesthatassailedher,quiteirrationally,whenshesawhimwalkingwithsomepostgraduateslut.

*

‘Passplease,DrVaynshteyn,’said theguard in theglassbox,at thedoorway toCytologyandGenetics.‘Comeon,Tyoma,youknowwhoIam.’‘Sorry, can’t let you in without showing your pass. New rule. Gotta see

everyone’spass.’‘What,youthinkI’manimpostor?You’vebeenlettingmeinforsixyears.’‘Fromtoday,gottaseeeverybody’spass.’‘Idon’thaveitwithme.’‘Bettergohomeandgetit.’‘Thisisridiculous…’ButtheDirectorwascomingin,overcoatflapping,smoothinghiscoiffure.He

was clearly planning to sweep bywithout acknowledging her. She blocked hispathwithsourpleasure.‘Director,won’t you explain toTyomahere that you needme in the building

today,passornopass?’‘Exemptfromtherulesasusual,mydear?’Shesmiledathimwithlotsofteeth.‘Youcan’thaveyourshowtrialwithouttheaccused,’shesaid.Pause.‘Signherin.’‘Thatwas characteristically tactful,’ he said,when theywere standingby the

lift.Theliftcame.Hegotin.‘Theacademiccouncilwillbeexpectingyouatoneo’clock,’hesaid.‘Don’tbelate.’Thedoorsclosed.

*

Herfourjuniorswereallwaitingwhenshecameintothelab.Literallywaiting:

overbythewindowinahuddle,notdoinganything,notsayinganything.‘Don’tjuststandthere,’shesaid.‘Thisisn’taholiday.Tabulate!’Shehunguphercoatandtriedtoconcentrate.Thankheavens,anotherenormous

pileofpolyclinicdatahadbeendeliveredandshecouldsinkintothemechanicalbusinessofanalysis.Ticktheboxes,writethenumbersonthecyclostyledreturns,lose yourself in the soothingminutiae of the experiment, for just a little longer.Spinabifida,cysticfibrosis,mongolism–ninenotifiablebirthdefects.Tick,tick,tick.ThisloadcamefromamedicalcentreinPerm,withintheecologicalshadowof the heavy-metal complex there, and as she had expected with a localenvironment like that, the data showed a steadily elevated baseline level ofmutations over time, with some particular spikes at dates that clearlycorresponded to local events. But the two big spikes they had grown used toseeingwere inplaceasusual,growingeverhigheras thenumbersmountedup:oneforthelate1930s,oneforthelate1950s.Twosuddenpeaksinthelevelofbirth mutations in the human population, equally present in the medical recordwhereveraroundtheSovietUniontheyhadlookedsofar.Thekeytointerpretingthem was to remember that these unfortunate babies were manifesting theirparents’ mutated genes. Therefore, the spikes corresponded to periods onegenerationearlierthaneachmaximumofbirthdefects,whenforsomereasontherehadbeenagreaterprevalenceofmutatedgenesinthepopulation;or,toputit ingood Darwinian terms, a definite differential advantage in possessing thosemutatedgenes.Fromherworkonfruit-flies,sheknewthatanactivetendencytomutationwas often associatedwith the adaptability of the creature,when someseriousenvironmentalchallengecamealong.Butforatendencytowardmutationtoconferasurvivaladvantageinthehumanpopulation,theremust,byimplication,have been a squeeze on, in the human population, of the same sort of order ofseverityas thedie-offsafflictingfruit flieswhenavirusswept throughthat theyhadnoimmunityto.Onlyademographicdisasterwouldhavethiskindofeffect.Now, itwaseasy toguesswhathadbeengoingon twenty-oddyearsbefore thefirstpeak.Latethirties, lesstwentyyears, tookyoubacktothedisasteryearsoftheFirstWar,theRevolution,theCivilWar:anacknowledgederawhentheFourHorsemen stomped recumbent Russia. But the later spike was interesting. Latefifties, less twenty years, took you back to the late thirties, before theacknowledgeddisasteroftheGermaninvasion.Whichstronglysuggestedthatthedyinghadbegun,onamomentousandhugeanddemographicallysignificantscale,beforetheacknowledgedeviloffascismcouldbeblamedforit.Shehadpointedoutnoneofthis inthelab–but theywereineffectstudyinghistory,sheandherjunior staff, recordednot indocumentsorarchivesoreven inhumanmemories,butinwhatnooneexpectedwaskeepingarecord,inhumanbodiesthemselves.

Nothing could havemademore sense, if you thought about it:wherewould thepast endure, if it endured at all, but in the irrefutable, ineditable archive of thegenes?Thetrickwouldbetofindawaytopublishtheresults.Well;wouldhavebeen.She lookedatherwatch.Quarter toone.Reluctantly,

shedisengagedhermindfromthepuritiesofreason,andpickeduphercoat.‘Thank you all,’ she said, by the door. ‘We’ve done good work.’ She

rememberedthepacketofmoney.‘Wouldyousendthisouttothepolyclinics?It’stheirnextpayment.Goodbye.’

*

TheAcademicCounciloftheInstituteofCytologyandGeneticswastwentyofthemostseniormembersofthestaff,headsofdepartmentandsoon:peopleshehadknown for years. Someweremeremediocrities, Party hacks forwhom she hadnever concealed her dislike, but many of the rest she had laughed with andschemedwith, anda fewshehadconsidered friends.Oneor two shehad sleptwith,sinceKostya.AlmostallofthemhadoncebeenalliesinthesilentbattletosaverealgeneticsfromLysenko.‘Wehave justoneunpleasant itemontheagenda today,’said theDirector. ‘A

letterprotestingagainsttheconductofacertaincourtcaseinMoscow,signedbyforty-sixemployeesof theSiberianBranchhere inAkademgorodok,whichwasfirstprinted in theAmericannewspaper theNewYorkTimes and then read out,with thenamesofall its signatories,on theAmericanpropaganda radio-servicetheVoiceofAmerica.These signatories, I amsorry to say, includeourownDrVaynshteyn,whowehaveaskedheretodaytoaccountforthisextraordinaryanddestructive action.Now, Iwill just say this, before throwing themeeting open.Thisisnotacourtoflaw.Itisaforumforcomradelydiscussion.Wearenotheretoinflictpenalties,sonobodyshouldfeelamisplacedsenseofanxiety,ormistaketheseproceedingsforanythingtheyarenot.’Snake,thoughtZoya.‘Who’llbegin?’askedtheDirector.‘I’dliketoknowwhyDrVaynshteynconcernedherselfwiththiscourtcaseat

all,’someonesaid.‘Whatdidithavetodowithher?Couldn’tshemindherownbusiness?She’snotalegalexpert.’‘Iknowthepeopleinquestionslightly,’saidZoya.‘Of course you do. You’ve got an address book full of troublemakers and

undesirables.Youdon’tmakeanysecretofit.’‘I’d like toknow’, saidsomeoneelse, ‘why, if shehad tomeddle, shedidn’t

addressherself to theappropriateauthorities.WhydefameSoviet justicebefore

thewholeworld?Whygotattlingtotheenemy,anddragtheinstitutethroughthemud?’‘Wedidn’t.Wesentregisteredletterstotheprosecutor,totheSupremeCourt,to

theCentralCommitteeandtotheGeneralSecretary.Nooneelse.Ihavereceipts.’‘ThenhowdoyouexplaintheNewYorkTimesandtheVoiceofAmerica?’‘Ican’t.Askthepeoplewesentthelettersto.’‘Nowyou’reaccusingtheSovietgovernment?’‘Idon’tsee’,saidoneoftheonesaroundthetableshehadclassedasafriend,

‘thatitmattersverymuchhowtheletterreachedtheenemy.Whatmattersisthattheenemyknewwheretolooktofindthissortofmaterial.Theyknewwheretolookfordisloyalty.Forcynicism.Forawillingnesstobetraycolleagues.’‘Undertheconstitution,anycitizenmaypetitionanyofficialonanysubject,’she

said.‘Yes,true,’saidsomeoneelse,‘butthatdoesn’trelieveyouoftheobligationto

thinkbeforeyouopenyourmouth.’‘Can’tyouseehowthisplaysintothehandsofthosewhowouldliketodragus

backtothepast?Don’tyouvaluethefreedomsweenjoyhere?’‘So,’shesaid,‘youwantmetoservefreedombyshuttingup.’‘Ifyoucan!’‘There’s speechand there’s speech,DrVaynshteyn.Areyoua child, thatyou

don’tknowthat?’‘Adangerouschild,Zoya.’‘DrVaynshteyn,youdon’tseemtobeawareofhowmuchwe’reresented.’‘The workers of Novosibirsk’, said the rep from the labour union, ‘do not

resentthehard-workingscientistsofAkademgorodok,whoarepreparingabetterlifeforallbytheirheroicefforts.Thisisaslander.ButtheworkersdemandthatthetraitorVaynshteyn,whoisnotfit tobecalledascientist,shouldbeexpelledandfacethefullrigourofthelawforhercriminalanti-Sovietactivity.’‘Well,’saidtheDirector,‘weshouldallnotethestrengthoffeelingexpressed

therebytheinstitute’sworkers,butIdon’tthinkthere’sanyneedatpresenttobetalkingintermsofpunishment.Let’ssimplyexpressourownfeeling.Ithinkwe’rereadytomovetowardsavote.’Ababbleofvoices.‘Justavoteofcensure,’hesaidsoothingly.‘Nobindingforce.Handsplease?

Unanimous?Good.DrVaynshteyn,I’llshowyouout.’In the corridor he said: ‘Do you remember?You promisedme to be a good

comrade.’ He said: ‘Your residence permit is being revoked. I’ll expect yourresignationnextweek.’

*

‘Fired,’shesaidintheHouseofSciencethatevening.‘You?’‘Fired,’agreedsarcasticMo.She scanned the crowd for Kostya. They were standing at the back of the

audience for the Festival ofBards,which had looked likely to be cancelled aspart of the crackdown but had gone ahead anyway, perhaps because all theperformers had already arrived. The Fakel collective’s money had paid for acollectionofpoets,balladeersandsingerstoconvergeonthetown,andtheywerefilingonebyoneacross the littlestage in thehotboxof theHouseofScience’satrium, singing sings about booze and heartbreak,with occasional pleas for theendoftheimperialistwarinVietnam.Maxwasathomeinbed,havingsurvivedaday with less finger-pointing in it than she had feared. They had had theconversation that broached the imminent prospect of themgoing back to live inLeningradwithGrandma,andhehadsaidhewasallrightwiththat.Thestudentwhowas babysittingwas curled upwithZoya’s copyofZhivago. Between thetight-packed crowd and the winter dark, green ferns and bamboos grew in theglasswallsoftheHouseofScience.Theywereinalittlelightedvivarium,aflasksealed against the cold outside.Everything seemed to be happening for the lasttime;tobetouchedwithsadness.Shewasinamoodofelegy.Thecurrentbardfinished,andanewonesteppedup,amaninlatemiddleage,

gone shaggy and jowly, butwith bright eyes.He had amoustachewhichmightoncehavebeendapper,buthadescaped.Hedidn’tlookbad.‘Who’sthis?’‘Film-musiccomposer,Ithink.Jingle-writer.Orsomething.’‘Hello,’saidthebard.‘Letmejusttunethisalittle.’Hefiddledwithhisguitar.

Hewas nervous. ‘Now, all right. This is something called “TheGold-Miner’sWaltz”.’Andhebegan tostrum inwaltz time, justabasic strum-strum-strum,withhis

voicedoingalltheworkoverthetop.Andhesang:

We’vecalledourselvesadultsforagesWedon’ttrytopretendwe’restillyoungWe’vegivenupdiggingfortreasureFarawayinthestorybooksun.Wedon’tstrikeoutfortheEquator,Orgetthehelloff,outofsight;It’ssilencenottreasurethat’sgolden,Andthat’swhatwedigfor,allright.

Aptlytheroomhadgrownveryquietindeed:uncannilyhushed,totheextentthatit was hard to believe there were a couple of hundred breathing humans in it.Perhapstheywereholdingtheirbreath.Thebardsang:

Holdyourtongue.Holdyourtongue.Holdyourtongue,andyou’llmakeaton.Holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue!

Strum-strum-strum,strum-strum-strum.Therewasmore.Shecranedforward.

ForageswekeptourheartshardenedItwaswisertokeepoureyeslowManytimeswetookrefugeinsilenceButoursilencemeantyesandnotno

– and to her intense irritation a suave presence beside her was demandingattention.ItwasShaidullin,nodoubtfreshfromconcludinghisownpurgeattheInstituteofEconomics.Hisshavedheadgleamed.Oh,notnow.Notanotherboutofceremonialattack.‘Awordinyourear,doctor,’hewhispered.‘YoushouldknowthatourKostya

isknocking.’‘What?’‘He’sknockingontheFifthDepartment’sdoor.He’stalkingtothem.I’msorry.’

Hewasgone.

…because,youknow,silenceisgold.Holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue.Holdyourtongueandyou’llbenumberone.Holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue!

OhKostya,shethough,ohKostya;andthere,ofcourse,hewas,withthemaligninevitability of nightmare, making his way towards her through the crowd andsmiling,smiling.Sheclosedherfaceandheldherhandupbyherchest,stop,andshook her head at him slowly, definitively. His face began to change but shelookedaway,back toward thebard.Tobe thoughtof later.Tobewonderedat,weptover,later.

Andnowwe’vesurvivedtoseebetterEveryonetalkssuchalotButbehindthebrightsparklingspeeches

Thedumbnessspreadsoutlikeablot.Someoneelsecanweepoverthebodies,Fortheinsultsandhungeruntold.Weknowthere’smoreprofitinsilence.Yesweknowthatsilenceisgold.

Oh,they’llcloseupeverythingherethatcanbeclosed,afterthis,shethought.Andlookwhatyou’redoingtoyourself,myfriend.

It’ssoeasy,makingaton!It’ssoeasy,tobenumberone!Ortohavesomeoneshotforasong!Holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue,holdyourtongue!

Theend.Theroomwasstillrapt,stunned.Sheputherhandstogetherandbegantoclapinthesilence,tillotherpeoplejoinedin,andothers,andstillothers,tillagoodthree-quartersoftheaudiencewereapplauding.Notallofthem.Somewerestaringappalled,andsomelookedas if theywere takingnotes.Shaidullin,backonthefarsideofroom,wasasimpassiveasanironpost.Poorman,shethought,youthinkitcanstillbemended,don’tyou?ButSashaGalich,onstage,waslaughinglikeamanreleasedfromanancient

burden.

Notes–VI.2PoliceintheForest,1968

1 Crave the use of telescopes, or gaze hungrily at the Computer Centre, like some ofAkademgorodok’schildren:forwhomtheingeniousAcademicianLavrentiev,wantingtonurturefuturegenerationsofscientists,createdthe‘ClubofYoungInventors’.TherewasalsoanannualsummerschoolatAkademgorodok towhich teenagers from across theUSSR competed to come, to playmathematicalgamesandhavetheirbrainsstretchedbythegreat.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

2If todaywent as she expected itwould: in this chapter I’ve telescoped together two adjacent but notsimultaneousrealeventsatAkademgorodok,thedisciplinarymeetingscalledintheInstitutestopunishtheforty-sixsignatoriesoftheletterprotestingthetrialinMoscowofthedissidentAleksandrGinzburg(earlyApril1968)andtheFestivalofBardsatwhichSashaGalichgavetheoneandonlypublicperformanceintheUSSRof his satirical songs (May1968).RaissaBerg, the real biologist inwhose shoes the fictionalZoyaVaynshteyn is standing,was indeedoneof the signatories,did indeedget fired in the sameadroitlyindirectmanner as Zoya does, and did indeed have difficulties with an unexpected informer among herfamilycircle–butZoya’scharacter,relationshipsandmotiveshereareallinvention.

3She flipped it over to look at the spine.Roadside Picnic.Well, well: another compression of thechronology.ArkadyandBorisStrugatsky’swonderfulPikniknaObochine,whichMax is readinghere,was in truth not publisheduntil 1972.Thequotation is from the1977English translationbyAntoninaW.Bouis(London:Macmillan).

4 Computer programmers went by on cross-country skis: an ordinary method of Akademgorodoktransportation,inwinter.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

5UnderthewretchedcentennialbannerofLeninblessingthechildren: thehundredthanniversaryof

Lenin’sbirthin1868,celebratedwithoutbreaksofunctuousLeninolatryinallartisticmedia.SeeGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisof theRusso-SovietAnekdot’, for the intriguingpossibility that thesecurity servicesmay have deliberately seeded Soviet society in 1968with several new tempting genres ofankedoty, inordertoheadoffthepossibilityofaplagueofLeninjokes.

6Themanwho,theysaid,hadtriedtoposeaproblemtoeachofthecandidates:seeAganbegyan’smemoirofKantorovichinKantorovich,KutateladzeandFet,eds,L.V.Kantorovich,ChelovekiUchenii.

7 Cybernetics was not the meeting ground it used to be: for the decline of cybernetic hopes, seeGerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak .

8Downhewentintoaheap:asIwastoldinAkademgorodok,oneofthelegendaryqualitiesofKantorovich(alongside his fondness for dancing with tall women, and his wish to be driven everywhere by car ifpossible)wastheeasewithwhichhemanagedtohaveaccidents.

9AgoodjoketolocktheJewsoutinthecoldovernight:forthedepressingresumptionofordinarypost-Stalin levels of anti-Semitism in what had been a relatively prejudice-free zone, see Josephson, NewAtlantisRevisited.Forthespecificincidentofthedormitorylockout,andtheJews/chickenssign,seeBerg,AcquiredTraits,p.366.

10Nuclearfusioninthepostofficequeue: itwasexactlythisconversation,overheardinlate1962whilewaiting for a stamp, which charmed the visiting sociologist Tatyana Zaslavskaia into moving toAkademgorodok.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.TheclampdownatAkademgorodok,beginningin1965butseverelyintensifiedafter1968,neverquiteeliminatedthetown’sfree-speakingways,becauseitnever eliminated the combustible and facinatingmixture of people, but it removed the public venues forunguardedspeechandrestoredsomethinglikeaSoviet-normaldegreeofcaution.

11ThegrantsfromtheFakelcollectivewereentirelylegalandaboveboard:Fakel,meaning‘torch’,hadbeenfoundedinJune1966asa‘youngpeople’sscientificproductionassociation’.Ineffect,itwasthenearest thinginSoviethistorytoaspun-out techstartup.By1968,whenitwasindeedsuppressed, ithadfulfilled more than a hundred commissions for software and could call on the talents of eight hundredpeople,250ofthemundergraduates.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

12UndertheIntegral,theCyberneticsKaffee-klatch,thelot:Akademgorodokhadbeenremarkablefortheprofusionandfreedomofitssocialclubs,whereyoucouldfinddancing,snacks,cards, improvisedartshows,anddiscussion,discussion,discussion.At theKofeinyiKlubKibernetiki – jokily, theKKK– therule was that anyone who spoke had to address the listeners as ‘respected non-empty set of thinkingsystems’.But often thereweren’t any listeners, exactly.KKKmeetingswere notorious for endingwitheveryone down at the front, all scribbling excitably on the blackboard and trying to talk at once. SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

13‘Theysayhe’ssavingthesteel-tubeindustrynow,sincetheywouldn’tlethimsavetheworld?’:AsarcasticallusiontoKantorovich’simportantrole,throughoutthesecondhalfofthe1960s,inaprojecttorationalise production scheduling in the rollingmills controlled by Soyuzglavmetal, ‘UnionMetal Supply’.Theteamheledcreatedthepartofavastsoftwareensemblethatautomatedandoptimisedthetraditionalpaperfilesofbronirovshchiki,productionschedulers.Kantorovichmaywellhavethoughtoftheprojectasa very large-scale demonstration of the viability of optimal planning.Needless to say,while the plannerswerehappytolethimusehisshadowpricesasananalyticaltoolfortuningamill’soutput,theydeclinedtotakeuphislargerschemeofusingthemtoautomateanddecentralisetheirownactivities.Itwasclaimedthat,bythesecondhalfof1969,theoptimisedmethodwasgivinganextraoutputofsixtythousandtonnesofsteel tubes.Whatever theexact truth, the ironyremains that, in the1970s, itwasdownKantorovich’soptimisedpipes that theoil flowedwhichBrezhnev’sgovernmentusedas their free-moneyalternative tosortingouttheeconomy.SeeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

14Ticktheboxes,writethenumbersonthecyclostyledreturns:aconjecturalrendition,withinventeddetails, of the real research project pursued at Akademgorodok by Raissa Berg until she was fired forsigningthe1968protestletter.Theprocessofdeductionhere,fromratesofbirthdefecttoconcealedsocialhistory,isentirelyauthentic.SeeBerg,AcquiredTraits,pp.356–9.

15‘Wehavejustoneunpleasantitemontheagendatoday,’saidtheDirector:much,butnotquiteall,of thedialogue that follows is agreatly redactedandcompressedversionof realutterances recordedbyRaissaBergfrommemoryafterherownequivalenthearing,andtriumphantlyrecordedinanappendixof

herautobiographyAcquiredTraits,pp.453–68.Ihaveselectedtosuppressasetofcriss-crosspersonalityclashestoocomplextoconvey,andtobringoutthealmostuniversalexasperationwith‘dissident’behaviour.

16They were filing one by one across the little stage in the hot box of the House of Science’satrium: in fact, the Festival ofBardswas held in themuch larger auditorium of theHouse of Science,whichheldtwothousandpeople,butIhavemoveditforthesimplereasonthat,ofthetwo,theatriumisthespace I have seen and can describe. Even in the auditorium, the concert was as packed as I haverepresented it being here.And somany peoplewere unable to get tickets at all, particularly among thestudentsofNovosibirskStateUniversity,whichhadacampusatAkademgorodok,thatadeputationfetchedGalichfromthehotelatmidnightandcarriedhimofftoplayacompletesecondshowat2a.m.intheeight-hundred-seater ‘Moscow’ cinema. Other performers at the first, official show included VolodyamirVysotsky,BulatOkudzhavaandIuliiKim.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

17‘Who’s this?’ ‘Film-music composer, I think’:Zoya’s ignoranceofwhoGalich is, andher completesurpriseatwhathesings,areunrealistichere.Anyonewithhersympathiesandconnections,evenif theywerewhollyuninterestedinmusic,wouldby1968haveheardofhisundergroundsongs,whichbynowhehadbeencomposing–andsingingtofriends–forsomeyears.Probablyshewouldactuallyhavelistenedtosomeofthem.Theycirculatedasmagnetizdat,illicittaperecordings.Soonceagainhere,Ihavecheatedfor the sake of heightened drama, and in order to bring out more strongly the genuine shock andastonishmentcausedwhenGalichutteredinpublicthoughtsthatwereonlypermissibleinthemostprivateof conversations. For Galich’s magnetizdat reputation, and the impact of his performance on theAkademgorodokaudience,seeBerg,AcquiredTraits,pp.375–7;fortheinstitutionalconsequencesoftheFestival of Bards, see Josephson, New Atlantis Revisited; for the consequences for Galich himself,includinghisexpulsionfromtheWriters’Union,lossofallprivilegesandeventualexilefromtheUSSR,seethebiographicalintroductiontoGalich,SongsandPoems.

18Thisissomethingcalled‘TheGold-Miner’sWaltz’:arealGalichsong,withthetranslationbyGeraldStantonSmithslightlytweakedbytheauthorforsingability,butnotoneheisonrecordasperformingthatnight.Insteadheplayed‘Clouds’,aboutanex-prisoneroftheGulaggettingdrunkinabar,‘TheBalladofSurplusValue’,aboutaSovietcitizenwhoinheritsafortune,and‘OdetoPasternak’.ItwasthislastonethatsmashedallthetaboosofappropriatespeechandbroughtthehousedowngaspingatAkademgorodok– but the ‘Ode’ is complicatedly allusive in its outrage, so I have substituted themore self-explanatorysilence-breakingof‘TheGold-Miner’sWaltz’.Besides,ithastreasureislandsinit.

19Justabasicstrum-strum-strum,withhisvoicedoingalltheworkoverthetop:anothercalculatedartificialnaivetyonZoya’spart,becausethisisprettymuchwhatthewholeSovietgenreof‘bardsongs’soundslike.ThinkJacquesBrel.

ThePensioner,1968Therewasabenchby thewallat theendof thedacha’sgrounds,overlookingawheatfield.Sometimestouristscamewalkingalongthefieldpath,andwantedtohave their photos taken with him, when they found the former First Secretarysitting there. Nobody was on the path today. There was just the grey heat ofAugust,andhimselfsittinginhisshirtandhishat,withhisshortwaveradioandthetaperecorderhissonhadgivenhimtorecordhismemoirs.Kavatherookwasscratchingatthegroundbyhisfeet.Hehadexpected,whentheyfirstsackedhimfromthePresidium,thathewouldatleastbeallowedtohelpwithPartyworkatthelowestlevel,backinthemostlocalofcells,orcommittees,orwhatevertheywerecallednowadays.Heoughttoknowthenamebuttheorgcharthadchangedso many times while he was living up in the high, fruit-bearing canopy of theParty.Hehadjusthadanostalgicmemoryofthewaythemeetingshadbeen,atthebeginning, in some raw-built concrete room under a bare bulb, with a newly-literatesecretarystumblingproudly through thebigwordsof theagenda;andhehadhopedthathe’dfindsomethinglikethatagain,iftheylethimjoininoncemorewith the donkey work of painting May Day banners, and giving speeches inlunchrooms, and visiting kindergartens, and expounding Pravda editorials toworkersatshift-end.(Makethemlaugh,thatwasthesecret.)Butnoneofthathadhappened.Thewordhadgoneout:hewasuntouchable.Nobodywastogonear.Nobodywastospeaktohim,writetohim,phonehim;andthoughnowandagainitwouldbemadedistantlyclearthathisformercolleagueswerestillthinkingabouthim, still including him in their calculations, he never learned about it directly.Theconsequenceswouldfilterdown,insomelittlechangeoftheregimenhelivedunder,orinafavourdoneforhisson.So the days stretched out, extraordinarily long and extraordinarily empty.He

hadgardenedlikecrazyatfirst,layingoutlongambitiousvegetablebeds,pruningandcompostingfromdawntilldusk,exceptwhenNinaPetrovnacalledhimintomeals – but it grew old, after awhile.And you couldn’t fill amindwith suchthings. Before, whenever he doubted, he had worked. Whenever he had beentroubledbyamemory,hehadworked,tellinghimselfthatthebestanswertoanydefectinthepastmustbearemedyinthefuture.Thefuturehadbeenhisprivatesolution as well as a public promise. Working for the future made the pasttolerable, and therefore the present. But now no onewanted his promises. Thehoursgaped.Therewastoomuchtimetothink,andnomeanstolosethethoughts

againinaction.Hecouldn’tridhimselfofwhathethoughtnow.Littlebylittle,inthemostundisciplinedway, thingshehadneverwanted to rememberdriftedupfrom the depths; foul stuff, past hours and minutes it did nobody any good torecall, leaving their proper places in oblivion and rising up into themind, likemuckstirredupfromthebottomofapondtostainthecleanwaterabove.Hedidhisbesttokeephisthoughtsinorder,forself-pitywouldbedisgusting,andhehadtheexampleofNinaPetrovna’sBolshevikcalmalwaysbeforehim.Ifshecouldmanage the change in their lives, the change in her duties, without ever oncecomplaining,socouldhe,surely.Hecouldrepairhismentalfiltersandgetthrougheachday.Butheunderstoodnowwhy,accordingtotherumour,thatfoul-mouthedblockofbeefFrolKozlovshouldhaveendedup,onhisdeathbed,calling forapriest.Godforbidthathehimselfshouldeverbesoweak:buthecouldseenowthe appeal of the idea of being purged of it all, of it all somehow being takenmagicallyaway,soyoucouldleavethislifeasinnocentasyouhadenteredit.Itwas thisdamnable idleness, thatwaswhat itwas.Kozlov toomusthave lain inbedinthemonthsafterhisstroke,withnothingtodobutthink.Perhapsheshouldhavevisitedhim.Toolateforthat;toolateforanythingbuttohaulhimselfonwardthroughthedays.Sometimesthestuggleinhisheadseemedsodisconnectedfromtheeventlessworldaroundhimthatitfeltasifthewholething,thewholebloodyhistory,thewholeofthevastcountryouttherebeyondthewheatfield,mighthavebeen a dream of his, one of those particularly intricate and oppressive feverdreamswhosepartsyoustruggleoverandovertotrytoputintoorder,yetnevercan;as if theremightneverhavebeenaSovietUnionatall,except inhishead,onlythisfieldofRussianwheat.It wasworst if hewas stupid enough ever towatch awar film on the giant

television receiver in the living room, still with the engraved plate under thescreendeclaring that itwasabirthdaygift ‘fromyourcolleagues in theCentralCommitteeandtheCouncilofMinisters’.Knowingwhattheydidtohim,henevermeanttolook;yetsomehowthetidyheroicsdrewhimin,seemingtoofferasortof ease, a chance tobe as comfortablyproudof thepast as the film.And therewerethingstobeproudof,afterall,aboutthewar.Allthosebraveboystheyhadbludgeoned on towards the enemy – well, the bravery had been as real as thebludgeoning;realenoughtomakeyouweep.Andtheyhadridtheworldofagreatevil.Thatwastrue.Whilehewasactuallywatching,hefeltonlyaveteran’smild,containable annoyance at the things the director got wrong. It was later that itwouldall turnpoisonous:inthenight,inthestillsolitarycentreofthenight.Hewould dream all the vile detail of war that the film had left out, andwhen heawoke,besidethesteadybreathingofNinaPetrovna,hewouldfindtheimageshehaddreamedofstillequallyvividinhismind’seye;andhoistingupunstoppably

behind them, lifted from the murk as if on hooks, out would come the othermemories.BehindthepictureofthepieceofhumangutfrozenintothepathtotheforwardbunkerinStalingrad,likemottledbrownpiping,thegroaningtreesintheWesternUkrainein’45,whentheNKVDhangmenhadbeenatwork,andthesightthrough an incautiously opened door in ’37 where an interrogator had beendemonstrating the possibilities of a simple steel ruler, and the starveling childvomitinggrassduringcollectivisation.Andmore;andworse.Somuchblood,andonlyonejustificationforit.Onlyonereasonitcouldhave

beenall right tohavedonesuch things,andaided theirdoing: if ithadbeenallprologue,allonlythelastspasmsinthedeathoftheold,cruelworld,andthebirthof the kind new one. But without the work it was so much harder to believe.Withouttheworkthefuturehadnohefttokeepthepastatbay.Andtheworldwenton the same, so it seemed, unchanged, unredeemed, untransfigured. The samethingswent onhappening, the sameold necessities bit just as hard.Thegardencamenocloser,wherethelionwouldliedownwiththelambandallcouldplayatcriticismafter dinner, if theyhad amind to.Today the radiowas reporting thatBudapesthadcomearoundagain,justlikethetimehesentthetanksin;onlythistime it was Prague, this time it was the Czechs who needed the fraternal armacross the throat to keep them in line. Cheering on the streets, said the radio.Everywhere the workers welcoming the soldiers. Oh yes. Before Prague,Budapest;beforeBudapest,EastBerlin.Itallhappenedoverandoveragain.Overandoverandover,withthegardenathistory’sendscootingahead,foreveroutofreach, as much of a justification as it had ever been, and as little of one. Hefumbledwith the tapemachine, and found theRECORDkeyhis sonhad shownhim.‘Paradise’,hetoldthewheatfieldinbaffledfury,‘isaplacewherepeoplewant

toendup,notaplacetheyrunfrom.Whatkindofsocialismisthat?Whatkindofshitisthat,whenyouhavetokeeppeopleinchains?Whatkindofsocialorder?Whatkindofparadise?’HepressedSTOP.Coveredhismouthwithhishand.And then, sincehewas

tiredoffear,offeelingitandofcausingit,theretiredmonstersatverystillonthebenchby the field, andwaiteduntilKava the rookhoppeduponto his knee.Alittlewindcamearrowingacrossthewheatandswayedthebirchesoverhishead.Andtheleavesofthetreessaid:canitbeotherwise?

*

Threethousandkilometreseastitisalreadynight,butthesamewindisblowing,stirringthedarkbranchesofthepinesaroundtheupstairswindowwhereLeonid

Vitalevich is sitting by himself, optimising themanufacture of steel tubes. Fivehundredproducers.Sixtythousandconsumers.Eighthundredthousandallocationorderstobeissuedperyear.Butitwouldallworkoutifhecouldpersuadethemtomeasuretheoutputinthecorrectunits.Thehardlightofcreationburnswithinthe fallible flesh; outshines it, outshines the disappointing world, the world ofaccident and tyranny and unreason; brighter and brighter, glaring stronger andstrongertilltheshortmanwithsquarespectaclescannolongerbeseen,onlytheblue-whiteradiancethatfillstheroom.Andwhenthelightfadesthefleshisgone,theroomisempty.Yearspass.TheSovietUnionfalls.Thedanceofcommoditiesresumes.AndthewindinthetreesofAkademgorodoksays:canitbeotherwise?Canitbe,canitbe,caniteverbeotherwise?

Notes–VI.3ThePensioner,1968

1Therewasabenchbythewallattheendofthedacha’sgrounds:Khrushchev’sretirementdachahadabench,wherehelikedtositwithhisdogArbatandhisrookKava,andithadawallbyafieldpath,wherepassingSovietcitizensinholidaymooddidindeedshylystopandasktohavetheirphotostakenwithhim.Butthebenchwasnotbythewall.FortheauthenticmelancholyofKhrushchev’slastyears,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.620–45,andSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev,pp.165–332.

2FrolKozlov…onhisdeathbed,callingforapriest:recountedinBurlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring,p.199.

3 It was worst if he was stupid enough ever to watch a war film:Khrushchev’s war movie-inducednightmares were described by Sergei Khrushchev in 2008 in a lecture attended by the writer MichaelSwanwick. See Swanwick’s blog entry on the event athttp://floggingbabel.blogspot.com/2008/02/khrushchev-isnt-he-russian-novelist.html[sic].

4 The giant television receiver in the living room: presented on his seventieth birthday, with manyunctuousspeeches,justbeforetheydeposedhim.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.614.

5Outwould come the othermemories: which aremy imaginings of remembered horrors for him, notattested incidents.Butwhen theplaywrightMikhailShatrovaskedhim, lateon inhis retirement,whatheregretted, he said: ‘Most of all the blood. My arms are up to the elbows in blood.’ See Taubman,Khrushchev,p.639.

6‘Paradise’,hetoldthewheatfieldinbaffledfury:notreallysaidindirectresponsetotheSovietinvasionofCzechoslovakia inAugust 1968, as here, but a real quotation from the tapesKhrushchev recorded inretirement.ThiswasamongthepassagesheldbackfromthetranscribedmemoirhissonhadsmuggledtotheWest for publication, with help from sympathetic hands in the security service. So it’s not in NikitaKhrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers (Boston MA: Little Brown, 1970); or in the first volume ofsupplementarymaterial,KhrushchevRemembers:TheLastTestament(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1974).See instead Nikita Khrushchev,Khrushchev Remembers: The Glasnost Tapes, ed. and translated byJerroldV.SchecterandVyacheslavV.Luchkov(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1990).

7Five hundred producers. Sixty thousand consumers. Eight hundred thousand allocation orders:figuresfromtheaccountoftheSoyuzglavmetalprojectinEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

The labourer awoke and saw that the princess, the flying carpet, and themagictableclothweregone.Onlyhiswalkingbootsremained.

AcknowledgementsMoreofaconfessionthananacknowledgement:Iwrotethisbookwithoutbeingable to speak or read Russian. I have therefore been able to draw on only afractionoftheavailablematerial,andreadersshouldbeawarethatwhattheyfindhere reflects the limiteduniverseofsources thathappen tohavebeen translatedinto English; often, translated into English during the ColdWar, as part of theWest’s anxious guesswork about Soviet developments. This hasmeant that, notbeingabletolookinarchivesformyselforgotooriginaldocuments(exceptinavery few cases where material was kindly translated for me), I have beenunusually dependent on a particular few books which have served me asfundamental gateways to the place and era I was trying to understand, orpathfinderswithinit.Theycomeupoverandoveragaininthenotes,butIwouldwish to express a specific debt of gratitude to them here as well: SheilaFitzpatrick’s Everyday Stalinism, William Taubman’s monumental biographyKhrushchev:TheManandHisEra,andMichaelEllman’sPlanningProblemsintheUSSR. Needless to say, none of the errors, misunderstandings, falsehoods,naiveties,glaringomissionsandplainold stupidities that are sure tobepresenthereare theresponsibilityof theseauthors.Butsincethisbookis teeteringonapyramid of other people’s expertise, it seems necessary to acknowledgewhoseworkI’mstandingontopof.Ialsocouldn’thavewrittenitwithoutthehelpofthetwo people who interpreted for me while I was in Russia, Josephine vonZitzewitz inStPetersburg,andSimmiGill inAkademgorodokandMoscow.MsGilltranslatedthekeysectionsofL.V.Kantorovich:ChelovekiUcheniiforme,pointed me towards Kolakowski, and provided high-quality irony on alloccasions. For hospitality and encouragement, I am very grateful to Irene andJoseph Romanovsky, Kantorovich’s daughter and son-in- law, and to ProfessorYakov Fet of Akademgorodok and his wife, who patiently answered questionsfromwhatmusthaveseemedtobeapuzzlinglyinnumerateEnglishman.ProfessorG.Khaninalsokindlymadetimetotalktome.Thesepeoplegavetheirhospitalityand encouragement when I thought I was engaged in producing a much moreconventionalpieceofnon-fictionthanthishasturnedouttobe,andtheymayverywellnotlikewhatIhavedonewiththememoryofKantorovich.ButIhopetheymay nevertheless recognise my essentially celebratory intentions. While I waswriting the book, I benefited from conversations with Michael Ellman, Alena

LedenevaoftheSchoolofSlavicandEasternEuropeanStudiesattheUniversityofLondon,andDjurdjaBartlettof theLondonCollegeofFashion;again, Iwasusuallystumblingaboutintheseconversations,tryingtoformmyfirstsenseofthesubject-matter, so Drs Ellman, Ledeneva and Bartlett may have felt theirgenerosity with their time was being wasted. It wasn’t. Then, for reading andcommenting fromvariousdifferent expertviewpointson thedraftof thebook, Iwant to thank Emma Widdis, Margaret Bray, Gerald Stanton Smith, OliverMorton, Andrew Brown, Claerwen James, Jonathan Grove, Jenny Turner, KimStanleyRobinson,PeterSpufford,andDavidandBerniceMartin.JessicaMartin,meanwhile, had read it chapter by chapter, paragraph by paragraph, andsometimesintimesofneedsentencebysentence.MystudentsatGoldsmithswereapleasuretoteach.MycolleaguesatGoldsmithswereapleasuretobecolleagueswith.MyeditorJulianLoosewaitedandwaitedandwaitedforthebook,onlytoreceivesomethingverydifferentfromwhatwehadoriginallyplanned.MyagentClareAlexander dealt gracefullywith the consequences.Lastly:mymother, thehistorianMargaretSpufford,hasalwaysbeenhearteninglysurethatIshouldtakerisksasawriter.WithoutherencouragementImightnothavebeenbraveenoughtomove to this halfway house on the borders of fiction. Hence the dedication,thoughIknowshedidn’thaveanythingsoshockinglyunscholarlyinmind.

IdidthereadingforthisbookinCambridgeUniversityLibrary,intheUniversityMedical Library andMarshall Economics Library in Cambridge, in the BritishLibrary,andinthelibraryoftheSocietyforCo-operationinRussianandSovietStudies in Brixton. Librarians are the unsung heroes of the world. Andindispensable in any project as perverse as this one. St Deiniol’s Library inFlintshireprovidedawonderfullybenignsettinginwhichtowritethelastchapter.Throughout, thepanther-footedMrGooglelaidstackuponstackofdocumentsatmy elbow. I cannot imagine being able to have written this story in the worldbeforetheinternet–intheworld,infact,ofthestoryitself.

NotesPartI

Introduction

1Abridgeofwhitehazelwood:this,andeveryquotationfromafairytale,comesfromAleksandrAfanas’ev[Afanaseyev],RussianFairyTales,translatedbyNorbertGuterman(NewYork:Pantheon,1945),insomecasesslightlyadapted.Forformalandanthropologicalanalysis,seeMariaKravchenko,TheWorldoftheRussianFairyTale(Berne,1987).

2Russians stopped telling skazki: for the deliberate attempt to manufacture a continuing Soviet ‘folk’tradition, with Stalin cast as mythic champion or good tsar, see Frank J. Miller, Folklore for Stalin:RussianFolklore andPseudo-folklore of the StalinEra (Armonk:M.E.Sharpe, Inc., 1990); and alsoJohnMcClureandMichaelUrban,‘TheFolkloreofStateSocialism’,SovietStudiesvol.35no.4(1983),pp.471–86;FelixJ.Oinas,‘FolkloreandPoliticsintheSovietUnion’,SlavicReview32(1973),pp.45–58;andRachelGoff,‘TheRoleofTraditionalRussianFolkloreinSovietPropaganda’,Perspectives:StudentJournal of Germanic and Slavic Studies (Brigham Young University), vol. 12, Winter 2004, at:http://germslav.byu.edu/perspectives/w2004contents. html. For an exploitation in contemporary fantasy ofRussian folklore and the Soviet/post-Soviet setting, see LizWilliams,Nine Layers of Sky (New York:BantamSpectra,2003).

3Thestories’nameforamagiccarpet:seeKravchenko,TheWorldoftheRussianFairyTale.4 ‘In our day,’ Nikita Khrushchev told a crowd: see Khrushchev in America: Full Texts of theSpeechesMadebyN.S.KhrushchevonHisTouroftheUnitedStates,September15–27,1959 (NewYork:CrosscurrentsPress,1960),whichincludesthisspeech,madeinMoscowonhisreturn.

5AllRussiawas (inLenin’swords) ‘one office, one factory’: technically, in fact, a prediction by himabout theworkingofpost-revolutionarysociety,madejustbefore theBolshevikputsch,andpublishedjustafterit,inTheStateandRevolution(1918),ch.5.‘Thewholeofsocietywillhavebecomeoneofficeandone factory with equal work and equal pay.’ There are many, many editions, but see, for example,V.I.Lenin,SelectedWorksvol.2(Moscow:ProgressPublishers,1970).

I.1TheProdigy,1938

1Withoutthinkingaboutit,LeonidVitalevich:LeonidVitalevichKantorovich(1912–86),mathematicianandeconomist,nearestSovietequivalenttoJohnvonNeumann,later(1975)tobetheonlySovietwinnerofthe Nobel Prize for Economics (shared with Tjalling Koopmans). Calling someone by first name andpatronymicexpressesformalesteem,inRussian;heismostlyreferredtothatwayhere,tosuggestthatheisbeingviewedwithrespectfulacquaintancebutnotintimacy.Withfictionalelaboration,thissceneonthetram is true to his history, for which see his Nobel Prize autobiography, in Assar Lindbeck, ed.,NobelLectures,Economics1969–1980(Singapore:WorldScientificPublishingCo.,1992);and thecollectionofhislettersandarticles,withcolleagues’memoirs,inV.L.Kantorovich,S.S.KutateladzeandYa.I.Fet,eds.,LeonidVitalevichKantorovich:ChelovekiUchenii(‘ManandScientist’)(Novosibirsk:SiberianBranchoftheRussianAcademyofSciences,vol.12002,vol.22004);andS.S.Kutateladze,‘ThePathandSpaceof Kantorovich’, talk at the international Kantorovich memorial conference, Euler InternationalMathematicalInstitute,StPetersburg,8–13January2004.

2 Gangs worked the trams: for 1930s crime and 1930s streetcars, see Sheila Fitzpatrick, Everyday

Stalinism:OrdinaryLifeinExtraordinaryTimes(OUP,Oxford2000),pp.52–3.3ThesloganadvertisedSovietChampagne:ithadbegunasacommentbyStalin(naturally)toameeting

ofcombine-harvesterdriverson1December1935–‘Everybodynowsaysthatthematerialsituationofthetoilershasconsiderablyimproved,thatlifehasbecomebetter,morecheerful’–andthenbeenpressedintoservice insongs,speeches,posters,newspaperbannerheadlines.SeeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, p.90andnote;forSovietChampagne,seeJukkaGronow,CaviarwithChampagne:CommonLuxuryandtheIdealsoftheGoodLifeinStalin’sRussia(Oxford:Berg,2003).

4Onhisprofessorsuitwouldhavebeenacottonstar:forJewishexperiencesoftheUSSRinthe1930s,andJewishperceptionsofitasaplaceofphilosemiticenlightenmentandopportunity,seeYuriSlezkine,TheJewishCentury(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,2004).

5 A request from the Plywood Trust of Leningrad: I have imagined the details of the approach toKantorovich, but the origin of his mathematics of optimisation in the Plywood Trust’s commission isabsolutelyauthentic.WhenKantorovichwascelebratinghisseventiethbirthdayin1982,hewaspresentedwithapieceofplywoodonwhichwasinscribed‘Iamasimpleplank,butItooamrejoicing,becauseitallbeganwithme’.Thefirstpublicationofhismethod,provinghispriorityasdiscoverer,wasinasixty-eight-page pamphlet of 1939, Matematicheskie metody organizatsii i planirovaniya proizvodstva(‘Mathematicalmethodsofproductionmanagementandplanning’),andhisuniversityalsoorganisedasmallconference;butverylittlenoticewastakenofficially,whichwasprobablythesafestoutcomeforhim,anditisnotevenclearwhetherthePlywoodTrustusedwhathehadpresentedtothem:quitepossiblynot.Themethod was then independently reinvented in the United States by Tjalling Koopmans and by GeorgeDanzig,whowhileworkingontransportandallocationproblemsfortheUSAirforceduringthewarcoinedthe phrase ‘linear programming’. Koopmans’ formulation had one difference from Kantorovich’s: itassumed that anymaximised selection of outputswould count as efficient,whereas forKantorovich theselectionwasagiven.Itcamefromtheplanners,andtherewasonlyoneofit tomaximise.SeeMichaelEllman, Planning Problems in the USSR: The Contribution of Mathematical Economics to TheirSolution1960–1971(Cambridge:CUP,1973).

6Hehadseenamethodwhichcoulddowhatthedetectiveworkofconventionalalgebracouldnot:thePlywoodTrusthadineffectpresentedhimwithagroupofequationstosolveoftheform3a+2b+4c+6d=17,wheretheunknownvariablesa,b,c,dstoodfor theunknownassignmentsofworkbetweendifferentmachines–onlywithmany,manymorevariablesthanjustthesefour.Theseareknownas‘linear’equations,because ifgraphed theyproducestraight lines,and it isapropertyof linearequations thatyoucanonlysolvethemifyouhaveasmanyequationstoworkwithastherearevariables.Otherwise,theyare‘undetermined’– therearean infinitenumberofpossiblesolutions,andnoway todecidebetween them.The Plywood Trust’s equations were undetermined, since there were fewer of them than the immensenumberofvariablestheywantedtoknow.Kantorovich’sfirststepwastorealisethathehadacriterionforchoosingbetweentheinfinitesolutions,intheknowledgethata+b+c+d,thetotalamountofworkdonebythemachines,was tobeminimised for theproductionof the targetoutputofplywood in thePlywoodTrust’splan.Oryoucouldturntheproblemaround,andseeyourselfasmaximisingtheoutputtarget.Foratextbook explanation of linear programming, adapted to American business-school students, see Saul I.Gass,LinearProgramming:MethodsandApplications(NewYork:McGraw-Hill,4thedn,1975).

7SkyscrapersinManhattan,andthepromiseofmoreinMoscow:forthepromiseoftheStalinistfuture,seeLevKopelev,TheEducationofaTrueBeliever(NewYork,1980),quotedinFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, p. 18; for specifically architectural visions of the future, see thewebsiteUnrealisedMoscow,www.muar.ru/ve/2003/moscow/index_e.htm,agatheringof thekindof imageswhosehypnagogicpower,takencollectively,ishorriblywellrealisedinJackWomack,Let’sPuttheFutureBehindUs (NewYork:AtlanticMonthlyPress,1996).

8Anextra3%yearafteryear,compounded:inaneconomythatconsumedallthegoodsitproduced,the3%ofextraoutputKantorovichanticipatesherewouldonlyhavecontributedasimpleboosttoproduction,notacompoundingadditiontothegrowthrate.Butinaneconomythatpartiallyre-investeditsproductiveoutputinfurtherproductivecapacity,the3%extragrowthwouldindeedhavecompounded–andtheSovieteconomy of the 1930s was exceptional in the degree to which it reinvested, rather than consuming, itsproduction.

I.2MrChairman,1959

1 Along the aisle the lads from the Tupolev bureau: for the story of Tupolev junior’s non-hostagehostagehood,seeWilliamTaubman,Khrushchev:TheManandHisEra(NewYork:W.W.Norton,2003),p. 422. The situation was particularly delicate because Tupolev senior had indeed been arrested for animaginarypoliticalcrimeinthemiddleoftheSecondWorldWar–andthencontinuedtoworkonaircraftdesignasaprisonerinthe‘firstcircle’oftheGulag.

2 Everyone was wearing fine new outfits: for the visible Soviet prosperity of the 1950s, see AbelAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain:InsidethePerestroikaRevolution,trans.HelenSzamuely(London:Bantam,1989)andG.I.Khanin,‘1950s:TheTriumphoftheSovietEconomy’,Europe–AsiaStudies vol.55no.8(December2003),pp.1187–1212;forthewayinwhichthe1950sand1960ssawthesuccessfulfulfilmentofpromisesmadeinthe1930s,seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.67–114.

3TheSoviet economyhadgrownat 6%,7%,8%: for the vexed question of Soviet growth rates, seebelow, introduction topart II. I have chosenhere forKhrushchev, as seems likely, tobelieve theofficialSovietfigures,whichnaturallygavethehighestrate.

4 Let’s compete on the merits of our washing machines: this is the famous ‘kitchen debate’. SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.417–18;and thecoverage in theNewYorkTimes, vol.CVIII no. 37,072, 25July1959,pp.1–4.

5Withoutme,they’lldrownyoulikekittens:forthisprophecyofStalin’s,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.331.Forthepipe-emptyingandforehead-tappingepisodes,seepp.167–8and230.

6Forthetimebeing,youarericherthanus:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.427.7IfI’dknowntherewouldbepictureslikethese:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.426.8Were you in the war, Mr Lodge?: see Nikita Khrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers (Little Brown,

Boston1970).9HeknewfromreadingIlfandPetrov:IlyaIlfandEvgenyPetrov,famousauthorsofTheTwelveChairs

(a satireofSoviet lifeunder theNewEconomicPolicyof the1920s),droveacross theUSA in1936–7.Their Odenoetazhnaya Amerika (‘One-storey America’), complete with descriptions of the Fordproductionlineandastripteaseshow,wastheprimarysourceforKhrushchev’sgeneration’smentalpictureoftheUnitedStates.Perhapsfortunatelyforthemfromthepoliticalpointofview,bothIlfandPetrovdiedduringtheSecondWorldWar.

10Whatisthat000-000sound:despitefortyyearsinpolitics,Khrushchevhadgenuinelyneverheardbooingtillheencountereditabroad.ButIhaverelocatedhisfirstencounterwith‘the000-000noise’toNewYorkin1959fromLondonin1956.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.357.

11WehadthisinMoscowandLeningradbeforethewar:forthe1930sSovietexperimentwithfastfood,seeGronow,CaviarwithChampagne.

12OfcourseheadmiredtheAmericans:foranoverviewoftheSovietinfatuationwithAmericanindustry,see Stephen Kotkin,MagneticMountain: Stalinism as a Civilization (University of California Press,1995) and Steeltown, USSR: Soviet Society in the Gorbachev Era (Berkeley CA: University ofCalifornia Press, 1991); with American management techniques, see Mark R. Beissinger, ScientificManagement,SocialistDisciplineandSovietPower(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,1988);forAmericanmassculture,andespeciallyjazz,seeFrederickS.Starr,RedandHot:TheFateofJazzinthe Soviet Union, 1917–1980 (New York: OUP, 1983). Before the Second World War, this was anenthusiasm for a capitalist cultureperceived asbeing removed from, evenneutral in, theUSSR’s rivalrywith theold imperialpowersofEurope.After1945, itbecameamuchmoreproblematicperceptionofaresemblancetoanavowedenemy.

13Doyouhaveagadgetthatputsthefoodinyourmouth:seeNewYorkTimes,vol.CVIIIno.37,072,25July1959,pp.1–4.

14Heopenedhisreplywithafewjokes:theofficialtextsofKhrushchev’sspeechesinAmerica,shornofhecklesandimprovisations,butnotofjokes,areinKhrushchevinAmericaandLetUsLiveinPeaceandFriendship: The Visit of N S Khrushchov [sic] to the USA, Sept 15 –27, 1959 (Moscow: ForeignLanguages Publishing House, 1959); for accounts of the speeches in their disorderly contexts, seeTaubman,Khrushchev, pp. 424–39, and Gary John Tocchet, ‘September Thaw: Khrushchev’s Visit to

America, 1959’, PhD thesis, Stanford 1995, and Peter Carlson, K Blows Top: A Cold War ComicInterlude Starring Nikita Khrushchev, America’s Most Unlikely Tourist (New York: Public Affairs,2009).

15Paintedbyadonkeywithabrushtiedtoitstail:notajudgementKhrushchevisonrecordofmakingofPicasso, but characteristic of his reactions to art that was in any way abstract or non-figurative. SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.589–90.

16Their cheekswere not notably bloated: itwas a source of amazed comment toKhrushchev, on hisinternationalvisits,thattherichandpowerfulintheWestdidnotresembletheSovietcaricaturesofthem.Forcapitalists’lackoftophatsandsnouts,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.351and428;forthesurprisingfailureof theKingofNorwayand theQueenofEngland tobe sinisteranddegenerate, seepp.612and357.It’spossiblethatonereasonforhishostilitytotheBritishPrimeMinisterHaroldMacmillanwasthat,inMacmillan,hehadforoncemetsomeonewhodidlookalittlelikeaSovietstereotypeofanaristocrat.‘Iwant him to rush here, so that I can see him with omelette all over his dinner jacket’: Taubman,Khrushchev,p.467.

17Heknewhowitwastohandleaworkforce:Khrushchevfounditrelativelyeasy,thoughpsychologicallyalarming, to identify with businessmen, whom he tended to interpret as direct Western counterparts toSovietmanager-politicianssuchashimself.

18Bringonyourquestions,I’mnottiredyet:Khrushchev’sdialogueswiththebillionairesatHarriman’stownhouse are as recorded by J.K.Galbraith’s amused ear, in ‘The Day Khrushchev Visited theEstablishment’,Harper’sMagazinevol.242no.1,449(February1971),pp.72–5.

19Iamanoldsparrow:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.429.

I.3LittlePlasticBeakers,1959

1‘Nowremember,’Khristolyubovwenton: thisone-earedPartyofficial is fictional,but thecampaign toguide thereactionofSovietvisitors to theAmericanexhibitionbysending inpairsofKomsomolhecklerswasquitereal.SeeWalterHixson,PartingtheCurtain:Propaganda,Culture,andtheColdWar,1945–1961(NewYork:StMartin’sPress,1997).

2American girls in polkadotted knee-length dresses: for photographs of the American exhibition inSokolnikiPark,andoftheMuscovitevisitorstoit,seeLifeMagazine,vol.47no.6,10August1959,pp.28–35,withlittleplasticbeakersonp.31;fordescriptionsoftheexhibits,seeWalterHixson,PartingtheCurtain; for a readingof thedesignpoliticsofBuckminsterFuller’sdome, seeAlexSoojung-KimPang,‘DomeDays:Buckminster Fuller in theColdWar’ in JennyUglow andFrancis Spufford, eds,CulturalBabbage: Technology, Time and Invention (London: Faber & Faber, 1996), pp. 167–92; for pressreactionintheUS,seeNewYorkTimes,vol.CVIIIno.37,072,25July1959,pp.1–4.

3Shehadaddedagreenleatherbeltboughtatthefleamarket:thatistosay,atoneofthelegalbazaarsorcar-boot sales (withoutcarboots)whereSovietcitizenscouldsell theirpossessionssecond-hand.Youcoulddisposeofbric-a-bracandyoucouldputyourownhandicraftsup for sale, likepaintingsorcarvedwoodenspoons,butyoucouldn’tmanufactureanythingwithout falling foulofArticle162of theCriminalCode, dealing with ‘the exercise of forbidden professions’, or resell things bought from state stores,because that contravened Article 154, forbidding ‘speculation’. For the intricacies of the Soviet rulesgoverningpersonalproperty,seeP.CharlesHachten, ‘PropertyRelationsand theEconomicOrganizationofSovietRussia,1941to1948:VolumeOne’,PhDthesis,UniversityofChicago2005.

4Onallsevenscreens ,thenightskybloomed:fordescriptionsofCharlesandRayEames’sdeliberatelyoverwhelming audio-visual presentation for the exhibition, and stills, see Beatriz Colomina, ‘Informationobsession:theEameses’multiscreenarchitecture’,TheJournalofArchitecturevol.6(Autumn2001),pp.205–23,andCraigD’Ooge,‘“Kazam!”MajorExhibitionoftheWorkofAmericanDesignersCharlesandRayEamesOpens’,LibraryofCongressInformationBulletin,May1999.

5Thefact thatRogerTaylor,unexpectedly,wasaNegro: thoughRogerTaylorhimself is an invention,therewere a small number ofAfrican-Americans among theRussian-language students recruited to beexhibition guides, a controversial decision back in theUS, and a source of exactly the kind of difficultyrepresentedheretoKomsomolhecklersequippedwithtalking-pointsaboutAmericanracism.SeeHixson,

PartingtheCurtain.6Is this thenational exhibition of apowerful and important country:Galina and Fyodor’s objections

duringthetouraremodelledoncontemporarySovietpressreaction,asrecordedinCurrentDigestoftheSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.XIno.30,pp.3–4,7–12;vol.XIno.31,pp.10–13.

7 The Soviet car-make which came closest in terms of lip-licking appeal: I’ve followed the maleconversation at the beginning of Boris and Arkady Strugatsky’s Monday Begins on Saturday innominatingtheGazChaika.ForfurtherSovietautomobiliana,seewww.autosoviet.com,andbelow,partVchapter1.

I.4WhiteDust,1953

1Forhimthebeginningwas thedayhewalkedto thevillage:EmilShaidullin’swalk tohis in-laws in1953 is a fictional embroidery on the similar journey taken by Abel Aganbegyan, and described in hisMovingtheMountain.The events ofEmil’swalk shouldnot be readback toProfessorAganbegyan’s,any more than Emil’s character, throughout this book, should be taken as a portrait of ProfessorAganbegyan.

2Stalin’slittlebook:J.V.Stalin,EconomicProblemsofSocialismintheUSSR,Englishedition (Moscow:ForeignLanguagesPublishingHouse,1952).

3AndwhileMarxdidn’tsaymuchabouteconomicsaftertherevolution:formostofwhathedidsayaboutit,seeRobertFreedman,ed.,MarxonEconomics(NewYork:HarcourtBrace,1961),pp.229–41.

4Hereand there , economistswere starting to talk tobiologists andmathematicians: for this first,semi-clandestinestageintheconversationofthedisciplineswhichwouldproduceSovietcybernetics,whichwas not quite the same thing as Western cybernetics, see Slava Gerovitch, From Newspeak toCyberspeak:AHistoryofSovietCybernetics(Boston:MITPress,2002).

5Foreconomics,afterall,wasatheoryofeverything:forareadablenarrativehistoryofthediscipline’shistoryanduniversal ambitions, seeRobertL.Heilbroner, TheWorldlyPhilosophers:TheLives, TimesandIdeasoftheGreatEconomicThinkers,4thedn(NewYork:SimonandSchuster,1971).Foramuchmore intricate and specific (but still narrative) study of the ambitions that seemed to be enabled byeconomics’encounterwith informationtechnologyin thepost-war twentiethcentury,seePhilipMirowski,MachineDreams:EconomicsBecomesaCyborgScience(Cambridge:CUP,2002).

6Value shone inmaterial thingsonce labourhadmade themuseful: the ‘labour theory of value’, asoriginatedbyAdamSmithandpassedviaDavidRicardotoMarx.Sovieteconomiststendedtobeawareofpre-Marxianclassicaleconomics,atleastintheformofcitationsandsummaries,butnotthepost-Marxiandevelopmentof it.The‘marginalist revolution’of the latenineteenthcenturywas littleknown,andwith itthe characteristic mathematical formalisations of Western economics. Those who were well-enoughinformedtoknowaboutthe‘socialistcalculationdebate’(seebelow,introductiontopartII)wereconsciousthat theirproposalsforoptimalassetallocationpresupposedaWalrasianmodelofgeneralequilibrium,butParetowas reputedonlyasaquasi-fascist, andKeynesasonemore ‘bourgeois apologist’,whose fancyfootworkcouldnotdisguisetheunchangingoperationsofcapital,asdiagnosedonceandforeverbyMarx.ForMarx’sformulationofthelabourtheory,seeFreedman,ed.,MarxonEconomics,pp.27–63;LeszekKolakowski,MainCurrents ofMarxism:TheFounders, theGoldenAge, theBreakdown, translatedfrom the Polish by P.S.Falla, one-volume edition (New York: W.W.Norton, 2005), pp. 219–26. For thequestion of what Soviet economists knew, see Aganbegyan, Moving the Mountain; Joseph Berliner,‘EconomicReformintheUSSR’inJohnW.Strong,ed.,TheSovietUnionunderBrezhnevandKosygin(NewYork:VanNostrandReinhold,1971),pp.50–60;AronKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR(NewYork:Pergamon,1980);AlexSimirenko,ed.,Soviet Sociology(London:RKP,1967).ForageneralexplorationofwhatSovietintellectualsunderKhrushchevknewabouttheworld,seeRobertEnglish,RussiaandtheIdeaoftheWest:Gorbachev,Intellectuals,andtheEndoftheColdWar(NewYork:ColumbiaUniversityPress,2000).

7ButMarxhaddrawnanightmarepicture:forMarx’svisionofthealienateddanceofthecommodities,and its philosophical roots and imaginative implications, see EdmundWilson,To the Finland Station: A

StudyintheWritingandActingofHistory(NewYork,1940),ch.15,andKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,pp.226–74.

8Machine-TractorStation:theruraldepots,withtheirownspecialisedworkforce,wheretheequipmentformechanised farmingwas kept (untilKhrushchev disastrously sold themachinery to the collective farms,whichhadnobudgettomaintainit).ForthesorryhistoryofSovietagriculture,seeAlecNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR,1917–1991,finaledition(London,1992).

9It lookedlikethesetforsomeChekhovstory:specifically, ‘Peasants’, inAntonChekhov,The LadywiththeLittleDogandOtherStories,1896–1904,translatedbyRonaldWilks(London:Penguin,2004)–though Emil appears to be thinking of ‘Gooseberries’ in the same collection. See also Janet Malcolm,ReadingChekhov:ACriticalJourney (NewYork:RandomHouse,2001).AportraitofSovietpeasantlifemorecontemporarywithEmil’swalk(butnolessdepressing)isSolzhenitsyn’s‘Matryona’sHouse’,inMatryona’sHouseandOtherStories,translatedbyMichaelGlenny(London:Penguin,1975).

10AgoodKazanMuslim: the implicationhere is that, at least on his father’s side,EmilArslanovich is aTatar. Though in Russian stereotype a Tatar has the facial features of Genghis Khan, the MongolcontributiontotheTatargenepoolwasrathersmall,andblondTatarsarenotatallunusual:asagroup,theylargely resemble Bulgarians, with whom they share an ancestry. Kazan had possessed a Muslimintelligentsia forcenturies,butTatarswerenotoneof theminorities famous in theUSSRforeducationalmobility,likeJewsandArmenians,andtheywerenotverystronglyrepresentedintwentieth-centurySovietintellectual life, with exceptions such as the computer designer Bashir Rameev. Presumably, Emil’sreasonably comfortable family experience under Stalin means that his parents (at least Party middle-rankers,judgingbyhisownsharplyupwardcareertrajectory)successfullynegotiatedthesuddenreversalof Soviet ‘nationalities’ policy during the later thirties. For this, seeTerryDeanMartin,The AffirmativeAction Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1929–1939 (Ithaca NY: CornellUniversityPress,2001).Forafabulouslydismaldescriptionofpost-SovietKazan,seeDanielKalder,LostCosmonaut:TravelstotheRepublicsThatTourismForgot(London:Faber,2006).

11The title song from the old musical, ‘The Happy-Go-Lucky Guys’: see James von Geldern andRichardStites,eds,MassCultureinSovietRussia.Tales,Poems,Songs,Movies,PlaysandFolklore1917–1953(BloomingtonIN:Slavica,1995).

12‘Didsomethingbadhappenhere?’:seeRobertConquest,HarvestofSorrow:SovietCollectivisationandtheTerror-Famine (London:Pimlico,2002).Throughout thisbook, it isnecessary to remember that,oncertaincrucialpoints,mostpeopleintheSovietUnionwillhaveknownlessaboutitshistorythandoesanaveragely-informedWesternerinthetwenty-firstcentury.

PartII

Introduction

1Socialismwouldcome,notinbackwardagriculturalRussia:attheveryendofhislife,disappointedbythe slow pace of revolution in England and Germany and the USA,Marx reassessed Russia’s politicalpotential.Buthedidnotalterhisanalysisof theeconomicprerequisitesofsocialism.SeeTeodorShanin,ed.,LateMarxandtheRussianRoad:Marxand‘theperipheriesofcapitalism’ (London:RoutledgeandKeganPaul,1983).

2But it also createdprogress: see, to take themost famous ofmany passages, the paean to the ‘mostprogressive part’ played by the bourgeoisie, for which read capitalism, in The Communist Manifesto(1848).

3Itwouldbeaworldofwonderfulmachinesandraggedhumans: asportrayed, for instance, inMarx-influenced turn-of-the-twentieth-century fictions of the future such as H.G.Wells’sWhen the SleeperWakesandEdwardBellamy’sLookingBackwards.

4All the ‘springs of co-operative wealth’ would flow abundantly: ‘and on its banners society wouldinscribeatlast…accordingtotheirneeds.’Marx,‘CritiqueoftheGothaProgramme’,1875.

5Itwasgoingtobeanidyll:Marx’sownhuntingandfishingandcriticisingversion is fromTheGerman

Ideology (1845–6). For a late nineteenth-century elaboration of the idyll into a full utopia, seeWilliamMorris,News fromNowhere; for late twentieth-centuryMarxian idylls, tryKenMacleod’sTheCassiniDivision (London: Legend, 1998), and any of Iain M. Banks’s ‘Culture’ novels, especially Look toWindward(London:Orbit,2000).

6Atiny, freakishcult: themembershipof theBolshevik factionof theRussianSocial-DemocraticLabourPartywas‘severalthousand’in1903,swelledintheaftermathofthefailed1905revolutiontoamaximumofmaybe seventy-five thousandby1907 (but thiswaswhile temporarily reunifiedwith theMensheviks),andthen(separateagain)plungedduringtheperiodofdisillusionmentandpolicerepressionthatfollowed,untilby1910noBolshevikbranchanywhereinthecountryhadmorethan‘tensofmembers’,andfromhisexileLenincouldcontactnomorethanthirtytofortyreliablepeople.SeeAlanWoods,Bolshevism–TheRoad to Revolution: AHistory of the Bolshevik Party (London:Well Red, 1999). In 1912,when theBolsheviks held a separate party congress in Prague, the membership was around five hundred, andaccording to the delegate from St Petersburg, Lenin could count on 109 supporters in the city. SeeR.B.McKean,StPetersburgBetweentheRevolutions:WorkersandRevolutionaries(NewHavenCT:YaleUniversityPress,1990).Thatwasthenadir,andmembershipwashigherby1914;butitwastheFirstWorldWarthatreallychangedthings.

7Therewasinfactaninternationaldebateinthe1920s:usefulsummariesof,andcommentarieson,thesocialist calculation debate can be found in Mirowski, Machine Dreams, Joseph E. Stiglitz, WhitherSocialism?(CambridgeMA:MITPress,1994)andGeoffreyM.Hodgson,EconomicsandUtopia:Whythelearningeconomyisnottheendofhistory(London:Routledge,1999),especially‘SocialismandtheLimits to Innovation’, pp. 15–61. VonMises’ opening criticisms are to be found in Ludwig vonMises,Socialism,1922, translatedbyJ.Kahane (Indianapolis:LibertyFund,1981).ForHayek’s initially ignoredbut deeply influential contribution, see F.A.Hayek, ‘The Use of Knowledge in Society’, The AmericanEconomic Review vol. 35 issue 4 (September 1945), pp. 519–30. For late rejoinders by two Westernsocialists,seeW.PaulCockshottandAllinF.Cottrell,‘Calculation,ComplexityandPlanning:TheSocialistCalculationDebateOnceAgain’,ReviewofPoliticalEconomy vol. 5no. 1, July1993,pp. 73–112; andCockshott and Cottrell, ‘Information and Economics: A Critique of Hayek’, Research in PoliticalEconomyvol.16,1997,pp.177–202.

8 Investment for industry, therefore , had to come the slowway: a policy particularly associatedwithNikolaiBukharin,‘Rightist’BolshevikandtheoristoftheNEP.SeeMosheLewin,PoliticalUndercurrentsin Soviet Economic Debates: From Bukharin to the Modern Reformers (Princeton NJ: PrincetonUniversityPress,1974).

9Slavelabourwasatremendousbargain:seeAnneApplebaum,Gulag:AHistoryoftheSovietCamps(NewYork:RandomHouse,2003).

10Evertoleavethekolkhoz:thecollectivefarm,intheoryanindependentco-operativesellingfoodtothestate,inpracticeamechanismofforcedlabourunderanappointeddirector.

11Asocietyinastateofveryhighmobility:seeSheilaFitzpatrick,EducationandSocialMobilityintheUSSR1921–1934(Cambridge:CUP,1979);Fitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.85–8.

12Thenamiddle-classlifebeckonedinshortorder:forthenewrespectabilityoftheStalinistbougeoisie,seeVeraS.Dunham, InStalin’sTime:MiddleclassValues inSovietFiction (Cambridge:CUP, 1976),and T. L. Thompson andR. Sheldon, eds,Soviet Society andCulture: Essays inHonour of Vera S.Dunham(BoulderCO:WestviewPress,1988);Fitzpatrickagain.

13AndafurcoatforMrsRedPlentytowear: for thewearabledimensionof theStalinistgoodlife,seeDjurdjaBartlett,‘TheAuthenticSovietGlamourofStalinistHighFashion’,RevistadeOccidenteno.317,November2007;andibid.,‘LetThemWearBeige:ThePetit-BourgeoisWorldofOfficialSocialistDress’,FashionTheoryvol.8issue2,pp.127–64,June2004

14And it did grow. It was designed to: a point made inMark Harrison, ‘Post-war Russian EconomicGrowth:NotaRiddle’,Europe–AsiaStudiesvol.55no.8(2003),pp.1,323–9.Foraconsiderationofthespecific window of opportunity that was open to a command economy in the middle of the twentiethcentury, see Stephen Broadberry and Sayantan Ghosal, ‘Technology, organisation and productivityperformanceinservices:lessonsfromBritainandtheUnitedStatessince1870’,StructuralChangeandEconomicDynamicsvol.16issue4(December2005),pp.437–66.

15Indeed, therewasaphilosophical issuehere: for theplanners’philosophical fidelity toMarx,despiteeverything,seePaulCraigRoberts,AlienationandtheSovietEconomy(Albuquerque:UniversityofNewMexicoPress,2002).

16Thismade it difficult to compareSoviet growth: there is awhole specialised literature, spread overfiftyyears,onthedifficultyofassessingtheUSSR’sgrowthrate.Foranaccessiblewayin,seeAlecNove,Economic History of the USSR, and Paul R. Gregory and Robert C. Stuart, Russian and SovietEconomic Performance and Structure, 6th edn. (Reading MA: Addison-Wesley, 1998). For Westerncalculationsduring theColdWar, seeAbramBergsonandSimonKuznets,eds,EconomicTrends in theSoviet Union (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1963); Janet G. Chapman, Real Wages inSoviet Russia Since 1928, RAND Corporation report R-371-PR (Santa Monica CA, October 1963);FranklynD.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:Rand-McNally,1962).Asausefulretrospective,seeAngusMaddison,‘MeasuringthePerformanceofaCommunistCommandEconomy:AnAssessmentoftheCIAEstimatesfortheUSSR’,ReviewofIncomeandWealthvol.44no.3(September1998),pp.307–23.ForSovietreassessmentsofthehistoricgrowthrecordduringperestroika,seeTatyanaZaslavskaya, ‘TheNovosibirskReport’,English translationbyTeresaCherfas,Survey 1 (1984), pp. 88–108;AbelAganbegyan,Challenge:TheEconomicsofPerestroika,translatedbyMichaelBarrattBrown(London: I.B.Tauris, 1988); andmost pessimistic of all, G.I.Khanin’s calculations, as described inMarkHarrison, ‘Soviet economic growth since 1928: The alternative statistics of G.I.Khanin’, Europe–AsiaStudies vol. 45 no. 1 (1993), pp. 141–67. Then, for Khanin’s response to the Western studies, seeG.I.Khanin, Sovetskii ekonomicheskii rost: analiz zapadnykh otsenok (‘Soviet economic growth: ananalysis of western evaluations’) (Novosibirsk: EKOR, 1993). And finally, for Khanin’s revisionistreappraisal of his own previous pessimism, seeKhanin, ‘1950s – The Triumph of the Soviet Economy’,whichproposesacompletelynewgrowthmetricbasedonfuelconsumption.

17PeopleintheWestfeltthesamemesmeriseddisquiet:fortheanalogybetweenWesternreactionstoSovietgrowthandtothegrowthofJapan/China/India,seePaulKrugman,‘TheMythofAsia’sMiracle:ACautionaryFable’,ForeignAffairsvol.73no.6(November/December1994),pp.62–78.

18Setaboutcivilisingtheirsavagegrowthmachine:seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.19Therewasadevilinthedetail:thefiguresinthediscussionthatfollowscomefromGregoryandStuart,RussianandSovietEconomicPerformanceandStructure.

II.1ShadowPrices,1960

1‘Isthisheresy?’saidLeonidVitalevich:thespeechIhavegivenhimhereisapatchworkofelements,heavily edited and simplified, from his real speeches to the conference on mathematics and economicsreallyheldby theRussianAcademyofSciences inApril1960.TextsfromKantorovich,KutateladzeandFet, eds, L.V.Kantorovich: Chelovek i Uchenii, pp. 117–26. For coverage of the conference, see P.Zhelezniak, ‘ScientificConferenceon theApplicationofMathematicalMethods inEconomicStudiesandPlanning’, Problems of Economics (translated digest of articles from Soviet economic journals,InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol. 3 no. 7,November1960, pp. 3–6; originally inPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.5,1960.

2ThoughtAcademicianNemchinov,watchingfromthebackofthe seminarroom:VasilySergeyevichNemchinov (1894–1964), geneticist turned economist, Academician-Secretary of the Department ofEconomic,PhilosophicalandLegalSciencesintheAcademyofSciences,patronandinstitutionalgodfatherof the mathematical revival of Soviet economics. I have slightly exaggerated the extent to which theconferencewashisidea:itactuallyoriginatedwithaninitiativebyKantorovichhimself.Forasampleofhisadroit political footwork during the transition to amathematical economics, seeV.S.Nemchinov, ‘ValueandPriceUnderSocialism’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.4no.3,July1961,pp.3–17;originally inVoprosyEkonomikino.12,1960.Foragatheringof the scientists towhomheactedasco-ordinator,seeV.S.Nemchinov,ed.,TheUseofMathematicsinEconomics,editedinEnglishbyAlecNove (Edinburgh:Oliver&Boyd,1964).Oneof themost importantnames tobe foundthere is completelymissing in thisnarrative:V.V.Novozhilov,Leningradeconomist andclose intellectualally of Leonid Kantorovich, whose work on the relative efficiency of investments found amore-or-less

politically acceptable way of reintroducing the idea of capital’s productivity, and who provided a vitalconnection to the pre-revolutionary tradition of Russian economics. He is missing here for storytellingreasons. But see V.V.Novozhilov, ‘On Choosing Between Investment Projects’, translated by B.Ward,International Economic Papers 6 (1956), pp. 66–87, andV.V.Novozhilov, ‘Calculation of Outlays in aSocialist Economy’, Problems of Economics (International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 4 no. 8,December1961,pp.18–28;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.2,1961;andV.V.Novozhilov,ProblemsofCost-BenefitAnalysisinOptimalPlanning,translatedbyH.McQuiston(WhitePlainsNY,1970).ForacontemporaryWesternappraisalofwhat theallianceofKantorovichandNovozhilovmightmean,seeR.Campbell, ‘Marx, Kantorovich and Novozhilov: Stoimost’ versus Reality’, Slavic Review 40 (October1961),pp.402–18.

3Tellingwhenthepartylineintheirsubjectwasabouttochange:fordiscussionsofacademicpoliticsinStalinist andpost-StalinistRussia, seeLorenR.Graham,ScienceandPhilosophy in the SovietUnion(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1972), and Gerovitch, From Newspeak to Cyberspeak . For a fictionalreflection, see the experiences of the particle physicist Viktor Shtrum in Vasily Grossman’s moralmonumentofanovel,LifeandFate,translatedbyRobertR.Chandler(London:Harvill,1995).

4A letter of terrifying frankness to themost powerful person he could think of: according to hisdaughter, in conversationwith the author inStPetersburg in2004,hewrote to everySoviet leader fromStalintoAndropov.

5 A hand had gone up: though this confrontation is a device to dramatise the ideological conflict overKantorovich’s ‘heresy’, the conference really was marked by sharp antagonism between him andBoyarskii,whohadpublishedaveryhostilereviewofhisBestUseofEconomicResources inthejournalPlanovoeKhozyaistvo (‘Planned Economy’) the year before. The intervention I have given Boyarskiihere,however,isbasedonanequallyhostilearticleofhisfrom1961.SeeA.Boyarskii,‘OntheApplicationofMathematicsinEconomics’,ProblemsofEconomics(translateddigestofarticlesfromSovieteconomicjournals, International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 4 no. 9, January 1962, pp. 12–24; originally inVoprosyEkonomiki no. 2, 1961.Whatever form the real exchange betweenKantorovich andBoyarskiitook, it is clear that Kantorovich won it. ‘This is not the first such review on Comrade Boyarskii’sconsciencebut followingmyreplyand judgingby theaudience’s reactionand thatofBoyarskiihimself, Ihaveafeelinghewon’tbewritinganymorereviewsof thissort infuture’:Kantorovich, inhisspeechtothePresidiumoftheAcademy,20May1960,inLeonidVitalevichKantorovich:ChelovekiUchenii,vol.1. Or, for another hostile commentary on the book, see A. Kats, ‘Concerning a Fallacious Concept ofEconomic Calculation’, Problems of Economics vol. 3 no. 7, November 1960, pp. 42–52; originallypublishedinVoprosyEkonomikino.5,1960.

6 Shadow prices: the multipliers on which Kantorovich’s solution to optimisation problems depended.Essentially,theywereopportunitycosts:theyrepresentedthecostofchoosingoneparticulararrangementofproductionintermsoftheamountofproductionforgonebychoosingit.Theirideologicalsignificancelayin theway that, withoutmaking any reference to demand or tomarkets,Kantorovich had discovered ademand-likelogic in thestructureofproductionitself. Inhisscheme, itwasthevolumeofplannedoutputthatwastobemaximised,notthecustomer’ssatisfaction,buthehadstillintroducedtheideathattheutilityoftheoutputtosomebodyshouldbetheguidetohowproductionwasconfigured.

7Anyincreaseintherequirementsofsomearticle:seeL.V.Kantorovich,TheBestUseofEconomicResources,translatedbyP.F.Knightsfield(Oxford:PergamonPress,1965).

8‘Forexample!Doyouseemytie?’:theparableofthenecktieiscompletelyinvented.Kantorovich’shabitof seeming to wander off during lectures, however, is genuine. A witness in Akademgorodok in 2006described tome the disconnected fragments hewould appear to be uttering, and the perfect sense theywouldturnouttomakewhenyoustudiedyournotesafterwards.

9‘It’struethatthereisaformalresemblance’,saidLeonidVitalevich:hisnextpointis,again,aslightlymodifiedquotationfromTheBestUseofEconomicResources.It isworthnotingthatthereisnowayatallof tellinghowsincere the realKantorovichwasbeingwhenheasserted thathis shadowpriceshada‘meaning’ completely different from market prices. As was pointed out to me in conversation inAkademgorodok,hewasnotableforthecarewithwhichheconfinedhimselfinwritingtothepracticalandmathematical aspects of his work, and never even hinted at what he considered to be its social or

ideological implications.Thesamewitnessgaveashisopinion thatKantorovich,asabrilliantly intelligentman,musthavebeenwhollyscepticalfromthebeginningaboutSovietsocialism–butthereseemedtometobeadangerofanachronisminthejudgement,andKantorovich’stenacityasasystem-builderarguedfortheratherdifferentinterpretationofhimwhichIhavemadehere.

10‘Coat,winter,men’s,part-silklining,woolworstedtricot,clothgroup29–32’:therewasaMinistryofTraderetailhandbook,anditwillhavehadalistingforbetter-qualitymen’sovercoatsverylikethis,butmysource–Chapman,RealWages inSovietRussiaSince1928–happens to track thepricesonlyofbetter-quality’swomen’sovercoatsamongitsbasketofconsumergoods,soIhaveconfabulatedthemen’scoat’sentryfromthat.

11GranitegiantsholdinguptheAcademy’sfacade: so faras Iknow, therearenomuscle-boundstoneAtlantids straining to support the Academy of Sciences in Moscow. Those are all in Leningrad/StPetersburg.But thesymbolismis toogoodtomiss;andifafairytalewouldbeimprovedbygiants, itgetsgiants.

12Andhismanuscriptgoesupanddownintheworld,roundandround: thestoryofthemanuscript’salarmingadventures atGosplancanbe found inAbelAganbegyan,Moving theMountain. It should benoted that itwas theheadofGosplan’spricesdepartmenthimself,whenhe laterbecameAganbegyan’sdoctoralsupervisor,whotoldhimthestory,whichsuggeststhatthereactiontothebookatGosplan(atleastinthepricesdepartment)was,thoughjustasuncomprehending,significantlylessthuggishinrealitythaninthisburlesquedversion.

13Poppedthemout intoafist-sizedmushroomcloud:Kantorovichwaspartof themathematical teamunderAcademicianSobolevontheSovietA-bombproject.

14 ‘Quite a nice package,’ said Nemchinov: see Paul R. Josephson, New Atlantis Revisited:Akademgorodok,theSiberianCityofScience(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,1997).

II.2FromthePhotograph,1961

1ButtheBESM-2ishardatwork;andsoisitsdesigner:forthehistoriesoftheBESMandofSergeiAlexeevich Lebedev, see Boris Nikolaevich Malinovsky, Pioneers of Soviet Computing, ed. AnneFitzpatrick, trans. Emmanuel Aronie, pp. 1–22. Available at www.sovietcomputing.com. See alsoD.A.Pospelov&Ya.Fet,EssaysontheHistoryofComputerScienceinRussia(Novosibirsk:ScientificPublicationCentreoftheRAS,1998),andthechapteraboutLebedevandtheveryfirstSovietcomputerinMikeHally,ElectronicBrains:StoriesfromtheDawnoftheComputerAge(London:Granta,2005),pp.137–60.

2And,more secretly still, anM-40exists,andanM-50 too: forLebedev’s computers for theSovietmissile-defence project, and the imaginaryMoscow in theKazakh desert, seeMalinovsky,Pioneers ofSoviet Computing, pp. 101–3. For ‘military cybernetics’ in general, seeGerovitch,From Newspeak toCyberspeak .

3‘Wecanshootdownafly inouterspace,youknow’:Malinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing, p.103

4 Remembering the story his rival Izaak Bruk told him: see Malinovsky, Pioneers of SovietComputing, p.70,whichdoesnothowever specify thecodename flower thevacuum tubebuyerhad tomention.Aswellassupplyingtulips,myrenditionofthestoryhasalsosimplifiedthebureaucraticlevelatwhichthepolitepeopleoppositetheknitwearshop(real)operated.Theyactuallytoldthestudent,‘Weonlyactatthelevelofraikomthirdsecretary.’

5TheBESM.Apictureofwhat?Ofpotatoes:thepotato-optimisingprogrammefortheMoscowRegionalPlanning Agency was absolutely real, but was not written until 1966, and therefore probably ran on aBESM-6 or an M-20 rather than a BESM-2. It belongs, truthfully, to the period of slightly chastenedmoderate-sizedimplementationsof‘optimalplanning’,ratherthantotheearlyperiodofgrandexpectations.Ihavecheated,andbroughtitforwardintime,inordertogivetheoptimismof1961somedefinitenarrativesubstance. Altogether, in fact, this fairytale version of the history of mathematical economics needs toconfess to tidying and foreshortening themovement from hope to despair it chronicles. The numbers ofdelivering and consuming organisations are authentic, and the variables and constraints; the dwindling

kilometre-numbers are made up from thin air. For this and other 1960s experiments in mathematicalplanning, see Michael Ellman, Soviet Planning Today: Proposals for an Optimally FunctioningEconomicSystem(Cambridge:CUP,1971),andPlanningProblemsintheUSSR.Othersources,withoutEllman’sbite and analytical clarity, are JohnPearceHardt, ed.,MathematicsandComputers in SovietEconomicPlanning (NewHavenCT:YaleUniversityPress, 1967), andMartinCave,Computers andEconomicPlanning:TheSovietExperience(Cambridge:CUP,1980).

6TherecordingclerkssallyoutfromtheMinistryofTrade’slittlebooths:amongotherthings,asaninformation-gatheringexercise,tocollectasetofmarket-clearingpriceswhichcouldthenbeusedtohelpestablish the price level for the bulk of food trade, in state stores. The state pricewas always cheaper,guaranteeingthatfoodatthestatepricewouldalwaysbeinshortagerelativetothemoneyavailabletopayforit,buthowmuchcheaperitwasvaried,dependingbothontheirregularjumpsoftheofficialpricesandthemorecontinuousadjustmentofthemarketprices.SeeChapman,RealWagesinSovietRussiaSince1928;asChapmanpointsout,thepremiumthatcouldbechargedatthekolkhozmarketgivesameasureofhowdifficultfoodwastofindatthestateprice.InrelativelygoodtimesforofficialSovietagriculture,thepricesranrelativelyclosetogether;inbadtimes,theydivergedwildly.AccordingtotheNarkhozstatisticalalmanac for 1968, between 1960 and 1968 kolkhozmarket prices rose 28%: see Ellman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

7Nowonder thatOskar Lange over inWarsaw gleefully calls themarketplace a ‘primitive pre-electroniccalculator’:notinprinthedidn’t,infact,until1967.SeeOskarLange,‘TheComputerandtheMarket’ in C. Feinstein, ed., Capitalism, Socialism and Economic Growth: Essays Presented toMauriceDobb (Cambridge: CUP, 1967), pp. 158–61. But the idea that the computer had conclusivelyresolvedthesocialistcalculationdebateinsocialism’sfavourwasverymuchacommonplaceoftheearlysixties.

8‘Sorcery!’hesaid,andwinked:seeHally,ElectronicBrains.9Universallycaressedandendorsed,verynearlytheofficialsolutiontoeverySovietproblem:see

Gerovitch,From Newspeak to Cyberspeak . Cybernetics did appear in the Party Programme: see thecompletetextoftheprogramme,andcommentaries,inLeonardSchapiro,ed.,TheUSSRandtheFuture:AnAnalysisoftheNewProgramoftheCPSU(NewYork:InstitutefortheStudyoftheUSSR/FrederickA. Praeger Inc., 1963). First had come the oppositional stage, during which cybernetics was officiallycondemned and seemed to scientists to represent a language of de-ideologised honesty. Then came thisperiodofofficialacceptance,andexcitedclaimsforcybernetics’ reformingpowers.Laterwouldcomeaperiodofdecay, inwhichSovietcyberspeakbecameonemorevarietyofofficiallysanctionedvacuity,assatirised(forexample)inAleksandrZinoviev’sTheYawningHeights,translatedbyGordonClough(NewYork:RandomHouse,1978).

10Otzadachi,‘fromtheproblem’,andotfotografii,‘fromthephotograph’: thedistinctionisdiscussedinEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.Both conservative criticismofmathematical economics, forinstance fromwithinGosplan, and criticism bymore radically sceptical economists, like JanosKornai ofHungary,oftenfocusedontheobviousweakness involvedinworking‘fromthephotograph’.SeeKornai,Anti-Equilibrium(Amsterdam,1971);foraGosplancritiqueofreformingimpracticality,twentyyearslaterbutdirectedatmuchthesametarget,seeMichaelEllmanandVolodyamirKontorovich,TheDestructionoftheSovietEconomicSystem:AnInsiders’History(ArmonkNY:M.E.Sharpe,1998).Tosomeextentthedistancefromthesystematwhichtheoptimiserswereworkinghadtodowiththeirstatusasun-trustedacademicoutsiderstotherealoperationofindustry.ItalsofollowedfromthepowerfullyabstractingnatureofKantorovich’smodels,whichcould reduceawhole technology to the letter ‘t’ inanequation.But theoptimisers of course saw and understood the difficulty: itwas one reason for their increasing interest insystemsofindirectcontrolwhichdidnotrequirecompleteinformationatthecentre.

II.3StormyApplause,1961

1LuckySashaGalich:formyportrayalhereofthesongwriter,screenwriter,playwrightandpoetAlexanderGalich(1919–77)Ihavedrawnheavilyonthebiographicalintroduction,‘SilenceisConnivance:AlexanderGalich’,toAlexanderGalich,SongsandPoems,editedandtranslatedbyGeraldStantonSmith(AnnArbor

MI:Ardis,1983),pp.13–54.SeealsoAlexanderGalich,DressRehearsal:AStoryinFourActsandFiveChapters,translatedbyMariaR.Bloshteyn(BloomingtonIN:Slavica,2007).

2 ‘I lovedMoscowDoesNot Believe in Tears’, she said: not the award- winning film of 1980, or IlyaEhrenburg’s novel of the 1930s, but themiddle oneof the three artefacts to bear the nameMoskva neslezamverit,aplayonwhichGalichcollaboratedin1949.Ihavenotbeenabletofindoutitscontent,anditisquitepossiblethatIammistakeninguessingthatitshowsasensitivitytothestrugglesofwomenwhichMarfaTimofeyevnatheGlavlit repwouldadmire.But thenMarfaTimofeyevnaisherselfpurefiction,nomoresubstantialthanthecloudsoverMoscow.

3TheaddressthatKhrushchevwasduetogivetothePartyCongresstoday:for the real textof it,completewithitalicisedrapture,seeCurrentDigestoftheSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.13no.45,p.25.

4Letters; letters from readers across thewhole double-page spread: the correspondence from theSovietpublicontheDraftof the1961PartyProgrammewasjustascopiousasI’verepresenteditbeinghere, and genuinely covered all the subjects listed here from peas to television parlours. SeeWolfgangLeonhard, ‘Adoption of the New Programme’, in Schapiro, ed., The USSR and the Future, pp. 8–15.However,theparticularletterabouttaxisintheimaginaryMorin’simaginarynewspaperwhichGalichlooksat here comes in fact from the postbag of the Party’s journalKommunist. SeeCurrent Digest of theSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies),vol.13no.42,pp.13–17;vol.13no.43,pp.18–23.

5 ‘Of considerably higher quality than the best products of capitalism’: again, see the text of theProgrammeinSchapiro,ed.,TheUSSRandtheFuture.

6The censor turned to him and said: ‘Oh, so the Jews won the war for us now, did they?’: fordramaticsimplicity I’veconflated thedress rehearsalwith themeetingnextdaywhenaversionof thesewordswasreallysaidtoGalich.SeeGalich,DressRehearsal.

7It’sbachelorfreedomall thewaywithyou, isn’t it?:AlexanderGalichwasmarried twice, in1941 toValentina Arkhangelskaya, from whom he separated in 1944, and from 1945 to his death to AngelinaNikolaevnaShekrot,whofollowedhimintoexilefromRussiainthe1970s,but‘didnotdemandfidelity…and took a rather ironic view of her husband’s romantic affairs’, according to www.galichclub.narod.ru/biog.htm.

8TosignapetitionprotestingsomenewslanderbroadcastbyRadioFreeEurope:aregulardutyoftrustedwriters likeGalich. The lunchwith the fictionalMorin, the episode of the French journalists, thetactlesslyvisibleground-floorrestaurantoftheWriters’Union–allcloud-moulded,alluntrue;butGalich’sstatusastheinsider’sinsiderisentirelyfactual.

9 ‘The Universal Abundance of Products’, read Galich: the quotations that follow are not from anewspaperfeatureon‘Lifein1980’,butalearnedarticlebyI.AnchishkinoftheInstituteofEconomicsofthe Academy of Sciences. See I. Anchishkin, ‘The Problem of Abundance and the Transition toCommunistDistribution’, inHarryG.Shaffer, ed.,The Soviet Economy:ACollection ofWestern andSoviet Views (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1963), pp. 133–8; originally published in VoprosyEkonomikino.1,1962.

10OntheislandoppositethePatriarchate:atthistime,theriversidesiteofthePatriarchatewasoccupiedbyapopularopen-airswimmingpool,whichhadfilledintheholeintendedtoaccommodatethefoundationsforagargantuanPalaceofSoviets.Asofthepresentday,allofthetwentieth-centurychangestothesitehavebeenreversed,andthePatriarchatestandsthereagain,asitdidin1900.

11Thesoundtrackitwouldhave ,ifitwerefilmedonadayliketoday:tomakeamoviesuchas1964’sYashagayupoMoskve,‘IWalkaroundMoscow’,directedbyGeorgiiDaniela;orZastavaIlicha,‘Ilich’sGate’,directedbyMarlenKhutsiev,whichwasmadein1961,butnotreleasedtill1965,underthetitleMneDvadtsat’Let,‘IAmTwenty’.

12Herememberedajoke .Whatisaquestionmark?Anexclamationmarkinmiddleage:authentic,andtaken,asarealltheSovietjokesinthisbook,fromSethBenedictGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’,PhDthesis,UniversityofPittsburgh2003

13HehadhadoneofthehappychildhoodsStalinhadpromisedwouldsomedaybeuniversal:hereIhavetakenthedataaboutGalich’schildhoodinthebiographicalessayprefacingGalich,SongsandPoems,

and amplified it with some of the sights and sounds of happy (Jewish) Soviet childhoods of the 1930sevokedinSlezkine,TheJewishCentury,pp.256–7.

14Surlyboyscrackingintosmilesathisteasingchastushki:chastushkiareimprovisedsatiricalverses,designedtoprovokegood-humoured,onlyveryslightlyruefullaughterinthepersontheydescribe.Inventinginoffensively Stalinist chastushkiwhich were still funny must have posed problems of tone, which theyoungGalich,whoreallydidgooff toentertain the troops like this,waspresumablygoodatsolving.Thesongsmentionedarerealhitsof theGreatPatrioticWar; ‘GoodbyeMama,Don’tBeSad’ isa real tear-jerkingnumberbytheyoungGalich.

15WanderingonavagueimpulseofsolidarityintoameetingoftheWriters’UnionYiddishsection:event real, dialogue invented. This was one of the indicative moments of the turn to undisguised anti-SemitisminthelateStalinistperiod.ThepositionofSovietJewshadbeenworseningsincetheNazi–Sovietpactof1938,but things tookasuddendownward turnafter thefoundationof theStateof Israel in1948,whicheffectivelyreclassifiedallJewsinStalin’seyesaspeopleofpotentiallydividedloyalties.AllexplicitlyJewishSovietorganisationswereclosed, includingtheYiddishSectionof theWriters’Union, theYiddish-language theatre, and the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee, which had raised support for the Soviet wareffort among the western diaspora. As a result of these moves, a number of Soviet citizens who hadthoughtoftheirJewishnessasoneoftheleastimportantfactsaboutthemselvesbegantofeeldifferently.

16Quietconversationswithareturnedchoreographer: all thedetailshereofhowhecame tosee themonsters in thewoodaremadeup, thoughhewascertainlysvoi in thesense that theconcocteduncle’sfriendmeans,and therealhorrorsof thefamousyear1937did indeed include(forsecretpolicemen) theproblemsofdisposingofaverylargenumberofbodies,veryfast.WhoeverGalichhadconversationswith,theywereofakindtogethimwriting,eventually,songsthatweremistakenfortheworkofagenuineex-Gulagprisoner.

17Thewordshewassupposedtohavesaid,backinApril,whentheylittherocketbeneathhim:seeTheFirstManinSpace.SovietRadioandNewspaperReportsontheFlightoftheSpaceshipVostok ,compiled and translated by Joseph L. Ziegelbaum, Jet Propulsion Laboratory/Astronautics InformationTranslation22,1May1961(JPL,CaliforniaInstituteofTechology).

PartIII

Introduction

1In1930theBolsheviksabolisheduniversities:forthereconfigurationofSovieteducationinthe1930s,Stalin’s call for a ‘productive-technical intelligentsia’, the rise of the ‘promotees’, and the ‘eight smallbenches’inheritedbythePoultryInstituteofVoronezh,seeFitzpatrick,EducationandSocialMobilityintheUSSR.

2Pre-revolutionaryRussian intellectuals felt a sense ofpublic obligation: the classical discussionofthe Russian intellectual tradition is Isaiah Berlin,Russian Thinkers, ed. Henry Hardy andAileenKelly(London:HogarthPress,1978).

3 Kulturny, a term which stretched from brushing your teeth regularly to reading Pushkin andTolstoy:seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.79–83.

4By definition, friends of truth, friends of thought and reason andhumanity and beauty, were…friendsofStalin: forStalinismasaneagerly-adoptedwayofbeingmodernandenlightened,seeJochenHellbeck,RevolutiononMyMind:WritingaDiaryUnderStalin(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,2006).

5Frombeingoneofthemostilliterateplacesontheplanettobeing,bysomemeasures,oneofthebest educated: for the Soviet university system of the 1960s and its social functioning, seeL.G.Churchward,The Soviet Intelligentsia: An Essay on the Social Structure and Roles of Soviet

IntellectualsDuringthe1960s(London:RKP,1973).6MikhailRomm’s1962hitfilm:Devyat’dneiodnogogoda(‘NineDaysinOneYear’),1962.7ThegentlesatireoftheStrugatskybrothers’1965novel:ArkadyandBorisStrugatsky,Ponedelniknachinaetsyavsubbotu,translatedasMondayBeginsonSaturdaybyLeonidRenen(NewYork:DAW,1977); translated asMonday Starts on Saturday by Andrew Bromfield (London: Seagull Publishing,2005).

8Groups of intellectuals were gathered together to be shouted at: see Taubman,Khrushchev, pp.306–10, 383–7, 589–96, 599–602; and Fedor Burlatsky, Khrushchev and the First Russian Spring,translatedbyDaphneSkillen(London:Weidenfeld&Nicolson,1991),pp.140–3.

9‘Ican’tdeny,NikitaSergeyevich,thatIdidfindsomeerrors’:seeGraham,ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot.

10 Seen in absolute terms , more Jews than ever before: for the breakdown of employment in thesciences in the USSR by ‘nationality’, from which these figures come, see Churchward, The SovietIntelligentsia.

11 Khrushchev’s red-faced rage over the Academy rejecting one of Lysenko’s stooges: in anextremelyrareexampleofout-and-outelectoralrebellioninaSovietinstitution,theAcademiciansusedtheirsecretballotin1964todisbarLysenko’scandidate.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.617.

III.1MidsummerNight,1962

1Adust-upbetweeninstitutesoverrightsinthenextblockstobecompleted:thisparticulardisputeisinvented,butthefirstfewyearsoftheAcademy’snewsciencetownoutsideNovosibirsk,foundedin1958,were indeedmarkedby fierce, sometimesunrulyargumentsbetween thedisciplinesoverwhogotwhichnew buildings. Cytology and Genetics itself obtained its premises by seizing, one weekend, a facilitypromisedtotheComputerCentre,andtheComputerCentrenearlylostitsnextearmarkedsiteaswell,toanopportunisticgrabbyagroupresearchingtransplantsurgery.ForthehistoryofAkademgorodok,IhavedependedheavilythroughoutthischapteronJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited;and for the lookand theatmosphere of the place also on my own visit in 2006, corrected for anachronisms (I hope) by thephotographs in themuseum of the Siberian Branch of the RussianAcademy of Sciences. But see alsoJessicaSmith,‘SiberianScienceCity’,NewWorldReview,thirdquarter1969,pp.86–101,andthesectiononAkademgorodokinManuelCastellsandPeterHall,TechnopolesoftheWorld:TheMakingof 21stCenturyIndustrialComplexes(London:Routledge,1994).Thepicturesin‘StarCity’,Colors45,August–September 2001, offer an evocative parallel portrait of the Soviet science town devoted to spacetechnology.ColinThubron’sInSiberia (London:ChattoandWindus,1999),pp.63–78,drawsadesolate,superstition-ridden portrait of Akademgorodok’s post-Soviet condition, but my sense was that theambivalent,half-deliveredpromiseoftheplacestilllingered.AssomeoneIspoketojoked,‘Therewasalotoffreedomhere.Oh,I’msorry,ImadeamistakeinmyEnglish.Imeant,therewasabitoffreedomhere.’

2Inthekitchen,predictably,onlythecoldtapworked:otherdefectscomplainedofbytheAcademytothetown’sbuilders,Sibakademstroi,includedpoorlyfittedconcretepanels,andhallwayssodamptheygrewmore than thirty varieties of mushroom. But Zoya’s apartment is nevertheless luxurious by all ordinarySoviet standards. It comes about halfway down a ladder of accommodation exactly matched to thehierarchyofacademicstatus.Asaseniorresearcherandlabhead,shegetsalivingspacesmallerthanthehousesandhalf-housesreservedforAcademiciansandCorrespondingMembersoftheAcademy,andtheverybest flats,whicharereservedforholdersof theCandidateofSciencedegree,butbiggerandbetterthan the sequentially dwindling flats for ordinary researchers and technical staff and the dormitories forgrad students. Envy of the town’s material privileges was a factor in the unhelpfulness of the citygovernment of Novosibirk over such issues as the water supply. At one point, the city stole an entiretrainloadofsuppliesearmarkedforAkademgorodok,andAcademicianLavrentiev,thedefactomayor,hadtoringKhrushchevpersonallytogetitback.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

3Progulka,goingforawander:seethechapteronrecreationsandleisureinThompsonandSheldon,eds,SovietSocietyandCulture.

4Bothmembers of a seminar intended to train up the economic and themathematical alike into

cyberneticians: while Kostya and Valentin are both fictional, the seminar wasn’t. Kantorovich andAganbegyan,who ran it in the non-fairytaleUSSR,were deliberately creating a pool of expertisewhichcrosseddisciplinaryboundaries.See‘TheSiberianAlgorithm’inJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

5Listening to the jazz programmes on Radio Iran: at this point, sixteen years before the revolutionagainsttheShah,apotentsourceofcurrentwesternmusicforSovietjazzfiends,andwellwithinbroadcastrangeofwesternSiberia,too.SeeStarr,RedandHot.

6‘Mutagenesis,’ she said: ZoyaVaynshteyn, fictional from head to toe in her green dress out of ItalianVogue,issharinghereintherealresearchofthegeneticistRaissaBerg(1913–2006),whoreallyarrivedinAkademgorodokataboutthisdate,andreallydepartedfromitunderverysimilarcircumstances(seepartVI,chapter2),butwhowasnotthirty-oneanddidnothaveachildoffour.Seeherautobiography:RaissaL.Berg,Acquired Traits:Memoirs of aGeneticist from the SovietUnion, trans.David Lowe (NewYork:VikingPenguin,1988),andthebiographicalarticleaboutherbyElenaAronovaintheonlineJewishWomen’sArchive:http://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/berg-raissa-lvovna.

7Theparty,itseemed,wasbeingheldintherestaurantofthehotel:aneight-storeybuildingwhichhadoriginallybeenscheduledtohavetwelvestoreys.Khrushchev,takingapersonalinterestinthenewtownhehadbacked,foundtheheightextravagant.‘That’swhatIthinkofyourskyscraper,’hesaid,makingsnippingmovementswithtwofingers.SeeJosephson,NewAtlanticRevisited.

8Thegreendress,shewasgladtoconfirmfromarapideye-gulpattheroom,morethanheldup:the Soviet Union produced a small amount of little-worn ‘high fashion’, and weirdly enough a vestigialtraditionofcouturesurvivedinthesatellitecountrieswhichpartywivesofsufficientstatuscouldpatronise.See Bartlett, ‘The Authentic Soviet Glamour of Stalinist High Fashion’. But for all practical purposes,anyonewhowantedtowearanythingdifferentfromtheunsurprisingstockinthedepartmentstoreswouldneed to rely, likeZoya and her friends here, on their own skillwith a needle, and the luck of access topictures that could serve as patterns. For an English-language review of a special issue of the RussianjournalFashionTheorydevotedtoSovietdress,seeAnnaMalpas,‘StyleforSocialists’,MoscowTimes,27April2007.

9When Eddie Rosner’s big band was serenading the Red Army: in 1939 the jazz musician EddieRosner,findinghimselfstuckinWarsawduringtheGermaninvasion,presentedhimselftotheGestapoanddemandedassistanceasaGermancitizen,omittingtomentionthathewasaJewishGermancitizen.Theylent him a car, and he had himself driven straight to the Soviet forceswho had seized the other half ofPolandunderthetermsoftheNazi–Sovietpact.Hecrossedover,andnextturnedupinMinsk,whereheputtogetherabandunderthepatronageofaByelorussianPartybigwig;then,withhisreputationtravellingaheadofhim,hemovedon toMoscow,wherehewashoused in thegrandestofhotelsuitesoverlookingRed Square. Throughout the war, and up until the Zhdanov-led repression of everything that had beenallowedtolooseninSovietcultureduringthewaryears,herodehigh,immenselypopularwiththepublic.Yourmentalpictureof theRedArmy’sadvance intoNazi-occupiedEurope isnotcomplete if itdoesnotinclude,alongsidethemassrapesandthedromedariespullingbaggagewagons,thesightofEddieRosnerandhisbandplaying‘TheChattanoogaChoo-Choo’amongtheruinsofcities.SeeStarr,RedandHot.Allthesongsthescratchcomboofscientists in theAkademgorodokhotelplayat thepartyarerealnumbersfromdifferenterasofSovietjazz.

10InfactAcademicianGlushkov…hasproposedarivalsystem:seeGerovitch,FromNewspeak toCyberspeak ,pp.271–4.

11 It turns out that the mathematics is indifferent to whether the optimal level of production isorganisedhierarchically: I’mbeingalittleanachronistichere.InapaperpublishedinAmericain1961,George Danzig (the mathematician who had independently rediscovered Kantorovich’s Plywood Trustbreakthrough while working for the USAF during the war) showed with P. Wolfe that some linearprogrammescouldbesplit intoalmost independentsub-programmes;in1963,anotherAmericanpaper,byC.Almon,showedthat thiscouldbeinterpretedascentralplanningwithoutcompleteinformation.FormalSovietresponsetotheideadidn’tarriveuntilapaperof1969byKatsenelinboigen,OvsienkoandFaerman,butitmusthavebeenaninfluencemuchsooner.SeeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

12 ‘A programmer…must combine the accuracy of a bank clerk with the acumen of an Indiantracker’:seeA.P.Ershov,The British Lectures (Heyden: TheBritishComputer Society, 1980). Ershov

(1931–88) was a heroic figure in the thwarted attempt to get computers out of the exclusive grip ofacademia,industryandthemilitary,andintothehandsofSovietcitizens.

13One of Timofeev-Ressovsky’s famous genetics summer schools: true, including the lake. SeeGerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak ,andBerg,AcquiredTraits.

14Smallcutsonrayonandsugar,25%riseonbutter,30%riseonmeat:thepricerisewentintoeffecton1June1962.Forthepolitickingleadinguptoit,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.518–19.Forthegeneraleconomiccontext,seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

15 It costs eighty-eight roubles to produce a hundred kilos of usablemeat: figures taken from A.Komin, ‘EconomicSubstantiationofPurchasePricesofAgriculturalProducts’,Problems of Economics(translateddigestofarticlesfromSovieteconomicjournals,InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.9,January1963,pp.29–36,originallyinPlanovoeKhosyaistvono.7,1962;andS.StoliarovandZ.Smirnova, ‘Analysis ofPriceStructure’,ProblemsofEconomics vol. 6 no. 9, January 1964, pp. 11–21,originallyinVestnikStatistikino.1,1963.

16 Cheap meat, cheap butter, cheap eggs, and cans of salmon on public holidays: perks alsodetermined strictly by seniority. See Berg, Acquired Traits, pp. 346–50; Josephson, New AtlantisRevisited.

17‘“BlueinGreen”,’heannounced,‘byMrMilesDavis’:ofcourse,fromKindofBlue,1959.BebophaditsSovietfollowers,butitwasattheavant-garde,ideologicallyriskyedgeofjazzinthisrelativelyjazz-friendlyperiod.SeeStarr,RedandHot.KostyawillpresumablyhavebeengettinghisMilesDavis fromRadioIran.

18I’veheard things said tonight inpublic that I thoughtwere strictlywhispers for thekitchen: Ihaveexaggeratedthetown’sfreedomofspeechtomakeitaudible,andtheexcitementaboutit thereforecomprehensible,forWesternreaders.Imagineadegreeofordinaryconstraintthatcorrespondstonothinginyour(our)experience,andthenimaginethatconstraintloosenedintoastatethatwewouldstillfindstiffand cautious and calculating, but which struck those experiencing it as (relatively speaking) a jubilantholidayfromcaution.

19DustedoffthewholeareawithDDT,usingajetengineasafan:aninsecticidalassaultcarriedoutinthespringof1959.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

20 ‘It’s theOb Sea, thank you verymuch,’ saidKostya: all quite true. TheOb Sea can be found onGoogleMaps,justsouth-south-westofNovosibirsk.Fortheideologicalbackgroundtomouldingnaturelikeputty,seeKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,onEngels’sDialecticsofNature,pp.308–26,andonthe‘Prometheanmotif’inthethoughtofMarx,pp.337–9.TheObSeaitselfdatesfromthemid-1950s,thebeachfromtheaftermathofacycloneinOctober1959,whenitwasdecidedtostabilisetheshorelinewiththreemilesofsand.

III.2ThePriceofMeat,1962

1Volodya stood by the parapet at the edge of the flat roof of the city procuracy: althoughVolodyahimselfisinvented,alongwithBasovtheregionalfirstsecretary,andthesituationthatVolodyafindshimselfinwithhisseniorsdisgraced,theNovocherkasskmassacreof3June1962wasalltooreal.Mymainsourcewas Samuel H. Baron, Bloody Saturday in the Soviet Union: Novocherkassk 1962 (Stanford CA:Stanford University Press, 2001). Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 3, 1918–1956, AnExperiment in Literary InvestigationV–VII, translated byH. T.Willetts (London:Collins/Harvill, 1978),pp. 506– 14, contains a passionate and horrified account of the massacre, but it was compiled in therumour-chamberofsamizdat,andisnotreliableindetail.Foraneye-witnessaccount,drawnonbyBaron,seePiotrSiuda,‘TheNovocherkasskTragedy,June1–31962’,RussianLabourReview2,1993.

2Red flags flying, portraits of Lenin held high: Samuel Baron conjectures that the strikers, having nomodelfortheactofgoingonstrikethatwasordinaryandmoderateandcivic,mayhavefoundthemselvesimitating revolutionary behaviour as they had seen it in Soviet film and drama, because it was the onlymodelofmassactionthatwasavailabletothem.

3Thegreypeasoupandgristleservedintheircanteen:allthedetailsoffoodareauthentic.4OnlytoseethevisitorsfromMoscowpouringoutofthebuilding:thepanickyretreatfromtheParty

officeonthesquaretothebarracksisfactual,butIhaveconfabulatedtheconvoyofChaikas.5Thespecialforcessquadhadrescuedthematdawn: true,buttheideaofthelocalapparatchiksbeing

carriedaroundasanobject-lessoninblameismyinvention.6Putting in his footsoldier-time at some convenient raikom or gorkom in theMoscow region: a

‘raikom’was a Party committee for a county, and a ‘gorkom’was the same thing for a town,while an‘obkom’,onestepfurtheruptheladder,wasacommitteeforawholeregion.

7 Even with his spets for the party store: a ‘spets’ was the document that gave you access to aspetsraspredelitel’, a closed distribution system for goods. See Fitzpatrick,Everyday Stalinism, for the1930s beginning of such arrangements; Alena Ledeneva, Russia’s Economy of Favours: Blat,NetworkingandInformalExchange(Cambridge:CUP,1998),fortheirlatergrowthandelaboration.

8ButKurochkin,tohishorror,hadfollowedhim: thesceneintheconferenceroomisallconfabulation,fromthehumilationofKurochkin(thereal,historicaldirectoroftheBudennyElectricLocomotiveFactoryinNovocherkassk)tothemeansbywhichKozlovandMikoyanreachedtheirdecision,thoughitappearstobetruethatKozlovwaspushingforthemilitaryoptionandMikoyanwasreluctant.

9Ithadbeenalittleaftereighto’clockyesterdaymorning:Volodya’smemoryofKurochkin’sdisastrousperformanceinfrontofthecrowdisfaithfultofact,includingthe‘letthemeatliverpies’moment.IamnotawarethatanyoneatthetimenoticedtheMarieAntoinetteparallel.

10Fromthereceiver,Volodyacouldhearthethreadymurmurofavoicefamiliarfromnewsreels:forKhrushchev’spartinevents,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.519–23.

11Shotshavebeenfiredatthecentralpolicestation:Ihavecompressed the timeline,but thiswas thereport that trigged the decision to suppress the strike by force. It is not clearwhether a genuine violentattackwas underway, orwhether thiswas another piece of naively insurrectionary behaviour by peoplewhowereunpractisedatprotest.

12‘Andgetmesomerealgrub,’hewassaying.‘Thisplaceissuchafuckinghole…’: relocated tothismoment,butanauthenticremarkbyKozlovinNovocherkassk.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.522.

13‘Allsoldiersoutof thecrowd,’hesquawked: the sequenceofwhat theofficeron thegorkomstepssaid to thecrowdisgenuine,althoughIhaveconfabulateddirectspeechoutofreportsofsubjectmatter.Theslogansofthecrowdarereal,andsoisthestrikers’tenaciousrefusaltobelievetheycouldbeunderrealthreat.

14‘Areyououtofyourmind?Inourtime?’:authenticincredulity.SamuelBaronsuggeststhatthemainreference in the strikers’ memories for a demonstration that was fired upon will have been ‘BloodySaturday’in1905,whenworkersloyallycarryingpicturesoftheTsarwereattackedbyCossacks.ButthatwaspartoftheofficialiconographyofTsaristiniquity.Thespeakerhereseemstohavebeentakingitforgrantedthatnothingofthesortcouldhappeninthemodern,enlightenedcountrywherehelived.

15 It was the crew on Volodya’s rooftop who were doing it: at this point, the narrative becomescontentious.ItisnotclearlyestablishedwhodidtheactualshootingatNovocherkassk–theregularsoldiersonthegorkomsteps,theInteriorMinistrytroopswhohadbeendraftedintothetown,orsomeothergroupbrought in by the security services. Nor is it clear where they were shooting from. Baron’s BloodySaturdayoutlinesseveralpossiblescenarios,andIhavechosenone.

16Thefarsideblewoutinageyserofredandgrey:thedetailsofthemassacrearemixtureofrealandimaginary.Thegrey-beardeddrinkershotintheheadisimaginary;thenursingmothersprayedwithbloodand brains is not, and neither is the hairdresser ceasing to be in the salon up the street. Baron has acompletelistofthedead.

PartIV

Introduction

1 Khrushchev gave a speech to an audience of Soviet and Cuban teenagers: see Taubman,Khrushchev,p.523.

2Firehoseswereused towash thebloodoff theground: seeBaron,BloodySaturday in theSoviet

Union.3TillhehadastrokethefollowingApril:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.613–14.4Contemporary joke:What do you callKhrushchev’s hairdo?: seeGraham, ‘ACulturalAnalysis of the

Russo-SovietAnekdot’.5 New cybernetics institutes and departments had sprung up: see Gerovitch, From Newspeak toCyberspeak .

6ButNemchinov himselfwas no longer in charge: for a sharp-tongued account of his sudden loss ofstanding,andtheappointmentofAcademicianFedorenkotoTSEMIinstead,seeKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR.Trying to read thesituationfromCaliforniaeightyears later, Simon Kassel, Soviet Cybernetics Research: A Preliminary Study of Organisations andPersonalities, RANDCorporation reportR-909-ARPA (SantaMonicaCA,December 1971), pp. 86–7,remarked that Fedorenko seemed to be ‘without observable experience in computer technology orautomation’, andwonderedwhether thiswaswhy TSEMI ‘appears to have gradually changed from aneconomics laboratory, engaged in the realization of a preconceived theoretical system of ideas, into anoperationalsupportagencyfortheGosplan’.Thebannersaying‘Comrades,Let’sOptimise!’wasseenbyMichaelEllmanonaresearchvisittoMoscowinthemid-sixties:Ellman,SovietPlanningToday.

7‘Themaintask,’hehadtoldanewconferenceatAkademgorodok:seeV.Kossov,Yu.Finkelstein,A.Modin, ‘Mathematical Methods and Electronic Computers in Economics and Planning’ [report ofNovosibirsk conferences,October andDecember 1962],Problems of Economics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.6no.7,November1963;originallyinPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.2,1963.

8AcademicianGlushkov’sgroupdowninKiev:see,again,Gerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak ,pp.271–4, and forGlushkov’s lifehistory and the storyofhisnegotiationswithgovernment,Malinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing,pp.29–59.

9AneconomistfromKharkovbythenameofEvseiLiberman:seeE.G.Liberman,‘PlanningProductionandStandardsofLong-TermOperation’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.8,December1962,pp.16–22;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.8,1962.Libermanwasinterpretedoutside theSovietUnionasbeing the leaderof economic reform ingeneral, as inV.G.Tremi,‘ThePoliticsofLibermanism’,SovietStudies19(1968),pp.567–72.HewasputonthecoverofTime–‘BorrowingfromtheCapitalists’,TimeMagazine,12February1965–andananswerappearedunderhisname in themagazine Soviet Life in July 1965, for which see E. G. Liberman, ‘AreWe FlirtingWithCapitalism?Profitsand“Profits”’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4,August1965,pp.36-41.

10Every enterprise in the Soviet Union had to agree a tekhpromfinplan: for the tekhpromfinplansystem,andamercilesslyluciddemonstrationofwhyitcouldnotproduceaplanthatwaseithercompleteor consistent, see Ellman,Planning Problems in the USSR. For the zaiavki (indents) see Herbert S.Levine,‘TheCentralizedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’,inFranklynZ.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:RandMcNally,1962).

11Butatthetimewearetalkingabout,theintermediarywasasovnarkhoz:see,againinHolzman,ed.,Readings on the Soviet Economy, David Granick, ‘An Organizational Model of Soviet IndustrialPlanning’, andOlegHoeffding, ‘TheSoviet IndustrialReorganizationof1957’.Foranassessmentof theeffectsofKhrushchev’sexperimentwiththesovmarkhozy,andtheplanningofproductionbyregionratherthan‘branch’,seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

12Every spring, as the Soviet Union’s rivers broke up into granitas of wet ice: for the detailedchronology of the planning year, in pristine theory and imperfect practice, see Levine, ‘The CentralizedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’.

13All clear so far?: a phrase shamelessly borrowed from the explanation ofmid-twenty-first-centuryUSmilitaryprocurementinKimStanleyRobinson,TheGoldCoast(NewYork:Tor,1988).

IV.1TheMethodofBalances,1963

1MaksimMaksimovichMokhovwasaverykindman:butanentirelyfictionalone.DeputyDirectoroftheSectorofChemicalandRubberGoodswasa real job,but the relationship Ihavesuggestedbetween

professional-bureaucrat deputies and political-appointee sector directors is conjectural, and I have noknowledgeofanyonebeingcalledupfromthemiddlerankstoserveina‘kitchencabinet’fortheMinister,asMokhovdoeshere.Heisactinginthisbookasaconfabulatedembodimentoftheinstitution.HistoneofvoicedrawsontheexasperatedGosplanwitnessinEllmanandVolodyaKontorovich,eds,TheDestructionof the Soviet Economic System, and on the Gosplan official interviewed in Adam Curtis’s TVdocumentary ‘The Engineers’ Plot’, programme 1 of Pandora’s Box, BBC TV 1992; but also, andespeciallyonhisreturninpartVchapter2,onDostoevsky’sGrandInquisitorinTheBrothersKaramazov.There’s also useful material on official attitudes (at different levels) to property, in Hachten, PropertyRelations.

2When he handed out the traditional bouquets onWomen’s Day: International Women’s Day wascelebrated(andstillisinpresent-dayRussia)on8March,withthisflower-givingtraditionbymenasakindofcourtlygrave-markerfortheearlySovietUnion’sfeminism.

3 For chemicals were a vital sector at present: for the rapid build-up of the chemical industry, seeTheodore Shabad, Basic Industrial Resources of the USSR (New York: Columbia University Press,1969).

4‘Suppressedinflation’ora‘permanentsellers’market’:twolinkedphenomena,thoughthefirstchieflyaffected the Soviet Union’s perpetually low-priority consumer sector, and the second was true of thecherished industrial sector too. TheUSSR had ‘suppressed inflation’ in the sense that it had the classicconditionsforrunawayinflationinamarketeconomy,withfartoomuchmoneychasingfartoofewgoodstobuy–butinsistedonfixedpricesforthescarcegoods,thuspushingcompetitionforthemintonon-moneyforms. The ‘permanent seller’smarket’was the situation inwhich both individual consumers, andmoresignificantlywholeenterprises,weresodesperate tobeable tobuy that theywouldacceptwhatever thesellergavethem,almostirrespectiveofqualityorconvenience.

5Acrosstheherringboneparquetoftheeighteenthfloor:myvisualsenseoftheGosplanbuildingcomesfromCurtis,‘TheEngineer’sPlot’,butIhavenorealinformationaboutitsinternalgeography.

6Hehadbroughtitbackhimself,bytrainfromBerlin:alittlelaterhecould,ifhewereverylucky,havebought it fromapopularMoscowshowroomforEastGermangoods.Undercommunism,EastGermanycontinued tomanufactureoffice furniture to1920sand1930sdesigns,someof themratherstylish;and itwasunusualtoo,foranEasternBloccountry,inhavingasubstantialindustryproducingplastichomewares,whichwere held up as a sign of socialist rationality. See Eli Rubin, Synthetic Socialism: Plastics andDictatorshipintheGermanDemocraticRepublic(ChapelHillNC:UniversityofNorthCarolinaPress,2009). An equivalent to Galina in the GDR would not have been so impressed by the little beakers inSokolnikiPark.

7 Chemical-industry input coefficients: a planner’s tool giving standardised proportions of the inputsrequiredtoproduceaunitofagivenoutput,theideabeingthatallenterprisescouldbekeptuptoasetlevelofefficiencyby supplying themonlywith theappropriate levelofmaterials.Alsoknownas inputnorms.Forthepitfallsofthissystem,andthetendencyforthenormstoproliferateintoamassofexceptions,andrulesapplyingtoonefactoryonly,seeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

8 ‘That’s how the steelwas tempered,’ he said:Mokhov is alluding to the title ofNikolaiOstrovsky’sfamous socialist-realist novel How the Steel Was Tempered (1936), which had become a commoncatchphrase.ComputerprogrammersatAkademgorodokshouteditinAugust1960astheyfoughtwiththeconstructionworkerswhokeptturningofftheirpowersupply.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

9Thebalanceswerekeptinalong,library-likeroomlinedwithfilingcabinets:theindividualbalanceslookedasIdescribethemhere,andasapapersystemtheyworkedinthewayIdescribe,andtheymustcertainlyhavebeenkeptinfilingcabinetsinaroom(orrooms)inGosplan,butthisparticularroomIhaveinvented.TheSovietgorgonwithhairthecolourofdriedbloodisagenericgorgon,fromCentralCasting.

10A workspace where there was a convenient spare abacus: the most common calculating devicethroughout thehistoryofSovietRussia,andslightlydifferent inconstruction fromaChineseabacus.SeeWikipediafordescriptionandphotograph.

11373 folders,eachholdingwork-in-progresson thebalance foracommodity: the number of thesemost strategiccommodities, alsoknownas ‘fundedcommodities’,wasdiminishing inanattempt tomakethesystemmoremanageable.There’dbeen892ofthemin1957,and2,390in1953–butthedeletedones

were presumably reappearing in the wider category of ‘planned commodities’, which didn’t need theirbalancessignedoffbytheCouncilofMinistersbutstillhadtobecalculatedbyGosplan.Whenthesewereincluded, Gosplan’s annual output of commodity allocations went up from c.4,000 typescript pages intwenty-twovolumes toc.11,500pages in seventyvolumes.Figuresall fromGertrudeE.Schroeder, ‘The“Reform”oftheSupplySysteminSovietIndustry’,SovietStudies,vol.24no.1,July1972,pp.97–119.

12AlittleproblemwithSolkemfib,theviscoseplantatSolovets:Solkemfibisaninventedadditiontothegenuineportfolioofnew-generationchemicalfibreplantsthatwereopeningintheSovietUnionintheearly1960s. I’vepickedupdetails forSolkemfibfromYe.Zhukovskii, ‘Building theSvetlogorskArtificalFiberPlant’,SovetskayaBelorussya,2December1962;translatedinUSSREconomicDevelopment,No.58:SovietChemicalIndustry,USDeptofCommerceJointPublicationsResearchService report18,411,28March1963,pp.17–20.ThetownofSolovets,ontheotherhand,isallusiveratherthanjustillusory.Therewasarealplaceofthatname,anislandintheWhiteSeawheresomeofthenastiestatrocitiesintheearlyhistoryoftheGulagtookplace.ThenamewasborrowedbyArkadyandBorisStrugatskyinthe1965novelMonday Begins on Saturday, to give a little unacknowledgeable satirical edge to the town off in thenorthernforestssomewherewheretheinstituteforstudyingmagicstands.AndI’veborroweditinturn,togivemyviscosefactoryafantastical(andslightlysinister)frame.

13 Really, it was only salt, sulphur and coal in, viscose out: exhaustive descriptions of the viscoseproduction process can be found on Wikipedia. Wood (pine/fir/larch/aspen) is boiled up with sodiumbisulphiteindigesterstogiveaspecialgradeofcellulosecalled‘dissolvingpulp’,whichis thensteepedinsodiumhydroxide (lye), squeezedout, crumbled, andaged in theoxygenof theair, beforebeingchurnedwiththeindustrialsolventcarbondisulphide.Thisgivesyoucellulosexanthate,whichischemicallyviscose,but not yet in usable form; so you dissolve it again in more sodium hydroxide, and squirt it throughspinnerets into a ‘spin bath’ of sulphuric acid,where the viscose liquid becomes filamentswhich can bestretched,wound,washed,bleached,rewashedanddriedasviscoseyarn.Thisistheformofviscosethatcanbewovenas‘rayon’or‘artsilk’,asinLeonidVitalevich’snecktieinpartIIchapter1.Squirtedthroughdifferentspinnerets,however,theliquidcanbecomeviscosetyrecordorevencellophane.Solkemfibisnotinthecellophanebusiness.Itclearlyhasonelinesetupforfabricandtheotherforcord.OfthethreebasicinputsMokhovmentions,youneedthesalttomakethelyeandthesodiumbisulphite,thesulphurtomakethe sodium bisulphite, the carbon disulphide and the sulphuric acid, and the coal to make the carbondisulphide.Simplethoughtheseinputsare,theywillstillhaveputtheSovietviscoseindustryincompetitionfor raw materials with soap-making, rubber-vulcanising, glue-manufacturing, ore-processing, petroleum-refining, steel-galvanising, brass-founding, metal-casting and fertiliser-producing. For an outline of thedifferentindustries’interconnectingneeds,seeShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

14Theoriginalshortfallleapingfromcommoditytocommodity:for theclassicanalysisof thereasonsfor inevitable, permanent shortage in ‘unreformed’ planned economies, see JanosKornai,Economics ofShortage,vol.A(Amsterdam/Oxford/NewYork,1980).Kornaipointsoutthat,aswellasthe‘vegetativeprocess’bywhichinsuchasystemeveryactorsensiblyoverstatestheirneeds,thesystem’sowninsistenceonperpetualgrowthensuresthatanygivensupplyofamaterial isgoingtobetoolittleforwhat itsuserswouldwanttodowithit.

15 In theory … you would need to revise all the balances a minimumof six times over, and amaximumofthirteentimes:seetheveryclearexpositionofthetheory,andthepragmaticSovietwaysaroundit,inEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

16 It was the basis for Emil Shaidullin’s entertaining prediction: really a prediction by AbelAganbegyan,madein1964.

18ThePNSh-180-14scontinuous-actionengine forviscose: a realmachine, referred to in ‘ResultsoftheWorkoftheChemicalFibresIndustryfor1968’,FibreChemistryvol.1no.2,March–April1969,pp.117–20;translationofKhimicheskieVoloknano.2,March–April1969,pp.1–3.But Ihavenoevidencethatitwasyetinproductionin1963,andthetechnicalupgrade,thefigureof17fortheannualoutput,thenominationoftheUralmashmachine-buildingcombineasitsmanufacturer,thedescriptionofitasametalporcupineasbigasasubwayhallandtheideathatithaditsownbalanceatGosplanall,allcomestraightoutoftheconjurer’shatofinvention.

18Thepage in frontofhimwas simplicity itself: taken from themodel of a balance-page illustrated in

Levine,‘TheCentralisedPlanningofSupplyinSovietIndustry’.19Hewas supposed to get chemical-fibre production up to 400,000 tonnes per annum by 1965:

targettakenfromShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

IV.2Prisoner’sDilemma,1963

1They were off to the fleshpots together for the annual jamboree: the festive jaunt to Moscow todeliver the plan, and a lot of the rest of the behaviour of Solkemfib’smanagement, comes from JosephBerliner,FactoryandManagerintheUSSR(CambridgeMA:HarvardUniversityPress,1957).Seealso,bythesameauthor,‘InformalOrganizationoftheSovietFirm’,QuarterlyJournalofEconomics,August1952,pp.342–65;The InnovationDecision inSoviet Industry (Boston:MITPress, 1976); andSovietIndustry from Stalin to Gorbachev: Essays on Management and Innovation (Ithaca NY: CornellUniversityPress,1988).AnarchetypalSovietmanagerisamongthesemi-fictional‘portraits’inRaymondA.Bauer,NineSovietPortraits(Boston:MITPress,1965).

2ThehotelIceboundSeafacedacrossthetownsquare:fromthehoteltothefisheries-trustteashop,alldetailsfaithfullyreflecttheStrugatskys’versionofthetownofSolovets.

3They’dhit thegross target for theyear1962deadon, 100%deliveredof the14,100 tonnesofviscoseplanned:atargetfigureforSolkemfibconcoctedbycalculatingtheaverageplannedoutputforarealSovietviscoseplantin1962fromShabad,BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

4Allseeing thepossibilities ,all likingwhattheysaw: I amprobablyanticipating the shamelessnessofmanagerialbehaviourinthelater1970sand1980sbymakingArkhipov,MitrenkoandKosoybewillingtocountenanceanactualactofsabotage.ItprobablytooklongerthanthisforthefearfulrestraintoftheStalintimetocomeapart.Butthiswasthedirectioninwhichthingsweregoing,soagain,arealprocesshasbeenforeshortenedhere.For an illuminatingdiscussionof late-Sovietmanagerial gamesmanship, seeYevgenyKuznetsov, ‘Learning inNetworks: EnterpriseBehaviour in the Former SovietUnion andContemporaryRussia’,inJoanM.Nelson,CharlesTilleyandLeeWalker,eds,TransformingPost-CommunistPoliticalEconomies(WashingtonDC:NationalAcademyPress,1997).

5Letalonetotoleratethesignaturestinkoftheviscoseprocess:causedbythebreakdownofdensequantities of carbon disulphide in the plants’ air, into even fouller-smelling carbonyl sulphide. Rottingcabbagewastheusualcomparison.

6 He had been imprisoned, but was now released: for the situation of ex-political prisoners, seeSolzhenitsyn,GulagArchipelagovol.3partVI,‘Exile’,pp.335–468.Havingthedecreeofexilelifteddidnotautomaticallyrestoreone’soriginalresidencerights.Foratreatmentinfictionofaprisoner’sunsettlingreappearanceamongthecomfortableandprosperous,seeVasilyGrossman,ForeverFlowing, translatedbyThomasP.Whitney(NewYork:Harper&Row,1972).

IV.3Favours,1964

1Over the ridge where the floor heaved up they danced: I have no knowledge of any bulge in thedanceflooroftheSverdlovskPalaceofCulture.ButtheNovosibirskPalaceofCulturehasone.

2ArealSpaniardmaroonedhere, inacrudecoldsteeltown: and therewere realSpaniardsscatteredaroundtheSovietUnion,injustSenoraLopez’sposition.

3Itwashisbusinesstodoso,hemadehis livingsnappingupthese trifles:Chekuskin’smethods ofoperation in thischapterareelaboratedfromJosephBerliner’sdescriptionof theworkof the tolkach or‘pusher’inFactoryandManagerintheUSSR,withhiscapacityforinstantfriendship,andhismemoryforbirthdaysandchildren’snames,andhisplausibleentréetoeveryofficeintown.(Thestereotypicaltraitsofthesuccessfulsalesman,infact,hereinvertedforasituationinwhichbuyingratherthansellingistheartthatrequirespersuasion.)Berlinerdrewhisinformationfrompost-warinterviewswithDisplacedPersons,sothetolkach ashedescribeshim isacreatureof the1930s:but the institutionsof theSovieteconomythat made the tolkach necessary remained essentially unchanged all the way from the Stalinistindustrialisation to the fall of the state in 1991, and there were indignant newspaper reports and anti-tolkach cleanup campaigns every few years throughout the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, which suggests a

basic continuity. Given Chekuskin’s continual use of individual favour-trading to oil the wheels of hisindustrialnegotiations,anotherimportantsourcewasLedeneva,Russia’sEconomyofFavours.I’vemadeChekuskinextremelyblatnoi, richinconnections,butheisn’tquiteablatmeister,amaestroof individualdeal-makingaboutflatsandschoolsandtelephonesanddoctorsandBlackSeaholidays,because–touseLedeneva’s elegant analysis of the psychology of blat – a blatmeister co-ordinated the mutualbackscratchingofmanyoverlappingcirclesof friends,andcouldonly thrive ifperceivedasa real friend,whereasChekuskinisfundamentallyacommercialfigure,wholeansacrosstheboundaryintotheworldofblat, justashealsodoesintotheworldoftheblackmarket.Ledenevaisinvaluableonthedistinctionsoffeelinginvolved,thecrucialoneofwhichistheextenttowhich,ineachofthesethreeadjacentworldsofillicit behaviour, the actors let themselves see clearly what they were doing. Blat transactions werethoroughlymystified; theywere conceptualised as part of thewarmth of friendship, and could never beexplicitlypaid forbya return favour, thoughanyonewhodidn’t tendhisorherendofablat relationshipwouldsoonfindthesupplyoffriendlyhelpdryingup.Thetolkachbusinessknewitwasabusiness;butitwasoneinwhich,asChekuskinsaysbelow,EverythingisPersonal.Themoneywasthere,thepriceofatransactionhadtobepaid,buttheobjectwastofindnon-moneyreasonsforthetransactiontotakeplace.Andattheotherendofthescale,theblackmarketwasamarket,ofarudimentarykind,wheregoods(forinstance, stolenpetrol)weresold to relativestrangers inorder toobtaincash. Itwas the limitedutilityofcashthatlimitedthesizeoftheblackmarket.

4A flying saucer swoops down over the earth and grabs aRussian,aGerman and a Frenchman:authentic joke, in the subgenre of comfortable self-insults to the Russian character, from Graham, ‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.Thealiensgiveallthreeabducteesapairofshiningsteelspheresandlockthemintinycompartmentsaboardthespaceship.They’llreleasetheonewhocanthinkofthemostamazingthingtodowiththespheres,theysay.TheGermanjuggleswithhisspheres:notbad.ButtheFrenchman juggleswith themwhile standingonhisheadandsingingabeautiful lovesong.Surelyhemustbethewinner–‘butwe’lljustcheckwhattheRussiancando,’saythealiens.Inamoment,they’reback. ‘Sorry, but the Russian wins.’ ‘In God’s name, how?’ says the Frenchman. ‘What else could hepossiblyhavecomeupwith?’‘Well,’saythealiensinawe,‘hebrokeone,andlosttheother…’

5Overthe intersectionto thebigporticoof theCentralHotel:SverdlovskherehasagenericSovietgeography,nottheactualgeographicaldetailoftheactualcity(nowEkaterinburgagain).

6Feelingacertainwaveringinhislegs,asiftheywereanticipatingasuddenneedtoflee:becauseChekuskin’sactivities are technically,of course, all illegalunderArticle153of theSovietCriminalCode,prohibitingcommercialmiddlemen.

7AgentlemannamedGersh,whodidpickledherrings in jars:orHersch, as hewould have been inothercountries.Russianhasno‘h’,andrendersthe‘h’soundas‘g’ratherthanas(theotheroption)‘kh’.TheUSSRwasinvadedin1941byaGermandictatorcalledGitler.MrGersh’spickledherringbusiness,ontheotherhand,clearlyoperatedduringtheNewEconomicPolicyofthemid-1920s.

8 A brown hundred on the outside: for contemporary banknotes, seehttp://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Banknotes_of_the_Soviet_Union,_1961.

9Noonewouldhaveprintedonacuporabowlwhatthesecitizenshadimprintedonthemselves:allof the tattoo designs here are authentic, and can be found inDanzig Baldaev et al.,Russian CriminalTattooEncyclopedia(Gottingen:Steidl,2004).

10Hehad heard about the thieves’marathon card sessions: for thieves and their card games in theGulag, seeAleksandr Solzhenitsyn,TheGulagArchipelago2, 1918–1956, Parts III–IV, translated byThomasP.Whitney(London:Collins/Harvill,1975),pp.410–30.Forafictionalrepresentation,drawingonthe Siberian experience of the imprisoned Yugoslav Karlo Stajner, see Danilo Kis, ‘The Magic CardDealing’(story),inATombforBorisDavidovich, translatedanonymouslyfromtheSerbian(NewYork:HarcourtBraceJovanovich,1978).

11Coupleofstilyagi.Reallystompedme,thelittlebastards:quiffed,music-lovingmembersoftheSovietUnion’sfirstdistinctiveteenagetribe.Associatedwithdelinquency,andthereforeconvenientlyblamableforall ills, and not just byRussians;AnthonyBurgess claimed that itwas a violent encounterwith stilyagioutsideaLeningradnightclubthatinspiredhimtocreateAlexandhisdroogsinAClockworkOrange.

12 This is a budget problem? Nobody cares about those: I have cheated here slightly, and given

Uralmashaproblemwithmoneywhich,strictlyspeaking,wouldnothaveexistedinthisformuntilafterthe1965reform,whichchangedthemeasureofplanfulfilmentfromphysicalvolumeofoutputtoprofitmade.Hence the need here for the additional factor of special scrutiny by Gosplan. Otherwise, in 1963, thechemical fibre equipmentdivisionofUralmash reallywouldhaveworried about thenumberofmachinesproduced,and littleelse.ByhavingSolkemfib’sproblemwithgetting theirupgrade turn,anachronistically,on price irrationality, I’m dramatising in advance the consequences of a price-irrational reform when itcomesinthenextchapter.

13Pricingofequipmentinthechemicalindustryiscalculatedchieflybyweight:agenuinestatement,but actually made, later, to a plant manufacturing car-tyre-moulding machines in Tambov. See Ellman,PlanningProblemsintheSovietUnion.

PartV

Introduction

1 The same bet that Plato had twenty-five centuries earlier: see Plato, The Republic, 473d. AsBenjamin Jowett’s 1871 translation puts it, ‘Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of thisworldhave thespiritandpowerofphilosophy,andpoliticalgreatnessandwisdommeet inone,and thosecommonernatureswhopursueeithertotheexclusionoftheotherarecompelledtostandaside,citieswillnever have rest from their evils, – nor the human race, as I believe…’ The classic twentieth-centuryphilosophicalrejoindertoPlatoisKarlPopper,TheOpenSocietyandItsEnemies(1945).

2The Party existed, its hierarchy shadowing all other hierarchies: for the Leninist justification forcadres’unlimitedauthority,seeKolakowski,MainCurrentsofMarxism,pp.664–74,754–63.Forthewaythedual structure of power left theSoviet state ‘booby-trappedwith idealism’, and the role it eventuallyplayed in the downfall of theUSSR, see StephenKotkin,Armageddon Averted: The Soviet Collapse,1970–2000(Oxford:OUP,2001).Conversely,foranargumentthatthephilosophicalkingshipoftheUSSRonlycontinuedatraditionallocalapproachtomodernisation,seeMarshallT.Poe,TheRussianMomentinWorldHistory(PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,2003).

3Theyweretheagentsofhumanity’sfuture:or,inStalin’sfamousphrase,‘theengineersofhumansouls’.4Theyactedasprogress-chasers,fixers,censors,seducers:butnot,bydesign,asbureaucrats,inone

very specific sense of the word. The Soviet Union had regular campaigns against ‘bureaucracy’, hardthoughthisisforanoutsidertomakeimmediatesenseofinasystemwhereeveryemployeewasastateemployee. ‘Bureaucracy’ as a Soviet pejorative implied coldness, impersonality, slowness, trivial rule-following. Apparatchiks were supposed, by contrast, to be quick, ‘conscious’, lively, free to engage inbrilliantimprovisationtogetthejobdonebyanymeansnecessary.SeeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism,pp.28–35.Andtherewassomesupportforthismodelofpoweratthereceivingend:itwastheaimofanyonedealingwithanofficial to tryandget themselves treatedpo-chelovecheski, ‘likeahumanbeing’,on thebasis of an emotional recognition rather than some cold rule. See Ledeneva, Russia’s Economy ofFavours. The result was that Soviet bureaucracy, while pervasive, did not exhibit some of the classicfeatures of bureaucracy elsewhere. It was not predictable and rule-governed; thus, by a neat circle ofcauseandeffect, youhad to approach it personally, emotionally, looking for the individualwithwhom tomakearelationship.

5Not exactly virtue, but a sort of intentionally post-ethical counterpart to it: see Charles Taylor’scharacterisation of ‘theBolshevik stance’ as a version of disengaged liberal benevolence inwhich one’sidentity as a good person has been entirely invested in a ‘titanic control over history’.CharlesTaylor,ASecularAge(CambridgeMA:BelknapPressofHarvardUniversityPress,2007),pp.682–3.

6 High-level Party meetings became extravagantly foul-mouthed from the 1930s on: seeAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain.

7‘WhenIwasaminer,’hesnapped:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.590.8In1964,Khrushchevwasentirelysurroundedbypeoplehehadappointedhimself:forthepolitical

historyof thelastfranticmonthsofKhrushchev’sleadership,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.3–17,620–

45.For thewarning signs of the approachingputsch,whichSergeiKhrushchev tried to get his father tonotice,seethefirsttwochaptersofSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev:AnInsideAccountoftheManandHisEra,editedandtranslatedbyWilliamTaubman(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1990).Forthe shifting mood in the Presidium among Khrushchev-made figures such as Andropov, see Burlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring,pp.196-203.

9‘You’dthinkasfirstsecretaryIcouldchangeanythinginthiscountry’:seeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.598.

V.1TradingDown,1964

1TheZilhaddisappearedinthenight:thoughthechauffeurhimselfisfictional,thesequenceofappearinganddisappearingcarsonthedayafterKhrushchev’sfallfrompowerisentirelyfactual.Foradescriptionofthatdayonwhich this chapterdrawsheavily, seeSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev, pp.165–9.SeealsoTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.620–1.

2 It was a copy of theCadillac Eldorado: the American originals for the Zil, Chaika and Volga are allauthentic.TheSovietcarindustryhadbeenfoundedinthe1930swiththeimportofacompleteBuick/Fordproductionline, includingAmericanengineerstoactasconsultants,andSovietautomobiledesignwasstillveryimitativeofAmericanmodels,thoughnotalwaysonaneatone-to-onebasis.SomeSovietcarscopiedseveraldifferentAmericancars atonce.Later,with theestablishmentof thegiantplant tobuildFiats atTolyatti on the Volga, the American influence was diluted, and by the 1980s the Soviet Union had adistinctiveautomotivestyleofitsown,thoughwithoutanythingapproachingtheidiosyncrasyoftheCzechTatra marque or the cardboard-chassised Trabant in the GDR. But then, both East Germany andCzechoslovakiahadhad indigenousmotor industriesof theirownbefore theSecondWorldWar.Middle-class consumerswho cannot affordGerman or Japanese imports continue to buyVolgas in present-dayRussia.Foraroll-callofmodels,withphotographs,seewww.autosoviet.com.

3 It had come straight from the general-service pool: I have no knowledge of the Kremlin’s carpoolarrangements,andthisisguesswork.

4ButcomparedtotheZilitwasatincan:thechauffeurisbeingsnottyintheextremeabouttheGazM-21Volga,whichmostSovietcitizenscoveted,andwhichisnowrecalledbyRussiansintheirfiftiesandsixtieswith thekindofnostalgia that thechromedmonstersofDetroit rouseup inAmericansof the sameage.TherearenumerousM-21fansitesontheinternet.

5Metamorphosed into aMoskvitch.Orabicycle: theMoskvich 400, produced from1946 to 1964 byMZMA, theMoscowFactory forSmallDisplacementAutomobiles,closely resembled the1938modeloftheOpelKadett.Thiswasbecause itwasmanufacturedwith the tooling for the1938Kadett,which theRedArmyhad captured intact during the advance intoGermany.But after 1964 itwas redesignedwith‘sleekmodern lines’, and theMoskvich 412 evenwon a small export following amongbudget-consciousWesternmotorists.Thankstosternruleslimitingthevalueoftheprizesthatcouldbeofferedontelevisionin Britain, the star prize in the early 1970s on the British TV gameshow Sale of the Century wasfrequently a 412 in bright orange. See Andrew Roberts, ‘Moscow Mule’, The Independent MotoringSectionp.7,11October2005.

6ShehadmadecanapésforthePresidentofFinland:this,theseventiethbirthdaypartyandthereceptionfortheChineseForeignMinisterwereallrealoccasions,butthecookherselfisimaginary.

7‘Goodmorning,NikitaSergeyevich,’hesaid: the realwordsof the realSergeiMelnikov, fromSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev.Melnikovappearstohavetriedtotreatthefallenleaderwithasmuchdignityaspossible,andwas fireda fewyears intoKhrushchev’s retirement for showingexcessivesympathy.Khrushchev’sreplyisword-for-wordaccurateaswell.

8‘Nooneneedsmenow,’hesaidtotheairstraightinfrontofhim:arealutteranceofKhrushchev’sonthatfirststunnedday,butaddressedto‘nooneinparticular’,notachauffeur.

V.2Ladies,CoverYourEars!1965

1Emilsplashedhisheadwithcoldwater:theentireoccasiondescribedinthischapterisaconfabulation,

designedtodramatisethedisappointmentofthereformeconomistsoverthelimitsofthe‘Kosyginreforms’of1965.KosygindidmakeapointofstoppingoffinAkademgorodokonhiswaybackfromastatevisittoVietnam,andwhile talkingtoKantorovichandAganbegyantheredidutter the immortalsentences‘Whathavepricestodowithit?Whatareyoutalkingabout?’–butmostofthereformers’accesstodiscussionsoverthedesignofthereformwasthroughcommitteesandreportsoftheAcademyofSciences,inwhichtheystruggledtomakethemselvesheardclearly.ThecaseagainstadoptingKantorovich’sprices, though,whichIhaveputintoKosygin’smouthandthemouthofthefictionalMokhov,issofarasIhavebeenabletofindouttheprobableone,compoundedofshrewdrealismaswellasself-interestandincomprehension.AndKosygin’scharacterasrepresentedhereisalsoauthentic,downtothehabitofcontinualcontemptuousinterruption. Abel Aganbegyan really did in fact lose his temper in the face of it, and snap ‘I don’tunderstand?’backathim,withtemporarilydisastrousresults,butnotuntiltenyearslater,inthemid-1970s.SeeAganbegyan,MovingtheMountain.Formyunderstandingof thetechnicalaspectsof thereform,Ihave used the analysis in Ellman,Planning Problems in the USSR, and (by the same author) ‘SevenThesesonKosyginism’ inCollectivism,ConvergenceandCapitalism (London:HarcourtBrace, 1984).There isanaccessibleaccountof the reform’saims inBerliner, ‘EconomicReform in theUSSR’.ForageneralsenseoftheeconomistsasplayersincontemporarySovietpolitics,seeR.Judy,‘TheEconomists’,inG.SkillingandF.Griffith,eds, InterestGroups inSovietPolitics (PrincetonNJ:PrincetonUniversityPress,1971).Foramuchmore fine-grainedandbitchyaccount, seeKatsenelinboigen,Soviet EconomicThoughtandPoliticalPowerintheUSSR.

2MrK. had slipped into real puce-faced spittle-streaked raving: it had been in the interests of thePresidiummajority who overthrew Khrushchev that his instability should be exaggerated, and Emil hasclearlypickedupsomedeliberatelyhyperbolicgossip.ButtheFirstSecretary’stemperhadbeengettingoutofcontrol,andtherehadbeenspur-of-the-momentthreatstotheRedArmy(seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.585–6)andtheAcademy(Taubman,Khrushchev,p.616).

3Thenewmenexudedadeliberate ,welcomecalm: for themood-music of the transition, seeMichelTatu,PowerintheKremlin:FromKhrushchev’sDeclinetoCollectiveLeadership, translatedfromtheFrenchbyHelenKatel(London:Collins,1969),andBurlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring.

4A peculiar and discordant piece had been published in Ekonomicheskaya Gazeta: see unsignedarticle,‘EconomicsandPolitics’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.7no.11,March1965;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,11November1964.

5There came a reorganisation of the lacework of Party committees within all the institutes: seeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

6An experiment in letting clothing stores determine the output of two textile factories: for theexperiment at theBolshevichka andMayak factories, seeV. Sokolov,M.Nazarov andN.Kozlov, ‘TheFirmandtheCustomer’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4,August1965,pp.3–14;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,6Jan1965.

7‘Wehavetofreeourselvescompletely,’hesaid:thistechnocraticspeechwasgivenon19March1965,published in Gosplan’s journal Planovoe Khozyaistvo no. 4, April 1965, and reprinted inEkonomicheskayaGazeta on 21April 1965.Quoted inEnglish inTatu,Power in theKremlin, p. 447.Kosygin’s report on the completed reform measure appeared in Izvestiya, 28 September 1965; seeA.N.Kosygin, ‘On Improving Industrial Management, Perfecting Planning, and Enhancing EconomicIncentives in IndustrialProduction’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.6,October1965,pp.3–28.

8AbeautifulpaperattheendoflastyearhadskeweredAcademicianGlushkov’shypercentralisedrival scheme: see Vsevolod Pugachev, ‘Voprosy optimal’nogo planirovaniia narodnogo khoziaistva spomoshch’iu edinoi gosudarstvennoi seti vychistel’nykh tsentrov’,Voprosy Ekonomiki (1964) no. 7, pp.93–103.NoEnglishtranslation.AccordingtoKatsenelinboigen,SovietEconomicThought,Pugachevwasa TSEMI economist deployed to Gosplan who had gone over to the planners’ critique of mathematicalreform.

9Theyhaddecidedhe’dbetternot,forobviousreasons:IhaveonceagainexaggeratedandcoarsenedKantorovich’s unworldliness. He was not a skilled politician, but in this case he served alongsideAganbegyanonthe‘Commissionof18’taskedbytheAcademytoprepareitssubmissiononthereform.

10An optimal plan is by definition a profitable plan: from Kantorovich, The Best Use of EconomicResources.

11TherewasareportinJanuaryinEkonomicheskayaGazeta:EmilisreferringtoSokolov,NazarovandKozlov,‘TheFirmandtheCustomer’,citedabove.

12We should let amachine take over a job as sensitive as decidingprices?: See the discussion inEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR,ofwhichelementswere,andwerenot,usuallyadoptedwhenan‘optimalplan’hadbeendrawnupforsomeSovietinstitution.

13 ‘He liked to smash telephones,’ said Emil: true. See Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, for theuninhibited management styles of Stalin’s industrial barons like Kaganovich and Ordzhonikidze. TheCommittee on Labour was Lazar Kaganovich’s last major appointment. He was pushed out of thePresidium indisgracebyKhrushchev in1957asoneof the ‘anti-Partygroup’,andsent to run theUralsPotashWorksinSolikamsk,PermProvince.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.369.

14 I specialise more in, uh, organisation, and, uh, psychology: an anecdote taken from Burlatsky,Khrushchev and the First Russian Spring, pp. 213– 14.Apparently Brezhnevmade little rotary handmovementsintheairashesaidit.

15‘Doyouknowwhatmy first jobwas,when I gotback from thewar?’: the details of the rota, thedeliveryvansandtheincineratorareallinvented,butthepostwarburningofthebondsisreal.SeeHachten,PropertyRelations.Thecurrencyreformof1947,whichconvertedoldroublestonewroublesinsavingsaccounts at the rate of 10:1while keeping prices the same,was another deliberatemove to abolish thestate’s liabilities. AndKhrushchev did it againwhen, on 8April 1957, he deferred the repayment of alloutstandingbondissues‘for20–25years’,andthe3%interestdueonthemtoo,whichhadbeenpaidoutaslotteryprizestobondholders.Butinthislastcase,thegaintocitizens’pay-packetsinnothavingtobuyanymorenewbonds outweighed the theoretical loss of all their previous subscriptions.See JamesR.Miller,‘History and Analysis of Soviet Domestic Bond Policy’, Soviet Studies 27 no. 4 (1975), p. 601; andFranklynD.Holzman,‘TheSovietBondHoax’,ProblemsofCommunism6,no.5(1957),pp.47–9.

V.3Psychoprophylaxis,1966

1HewasregisteredwiththeAll-UnionLegalCorrespondenceInstitute:foundedin1932,withmorethan forty thousand graduates by 1968. Added together, students attending evening classes (652,000 in1967–8) and studying by correspondence (1.77 million in 1967–8) earned almost half of the bachelor’sdegreesawardedintheUSSR,andforlawdegreestheproportionwasevenhigher,43,000outof65,000in1967–8.A law degreewas a tool ofworking-class socialmobility, as in theUnited States, appealing tothoseon the rise, likeFyodor, rather than to thosewithestablished family traditionsofeducation.FiguresfromChurchward,TheSovietIntelligentsia.

2Thethousandskirmishesofcommunalka life: seeFitzpatrick,EverydayStalinism, pp. 47–9; and forthespecialpoliticalclaustrophobiaofcommunalflatsintimesofpurgeanddenunciation,seeOrlandoFiges,TheWhisperers:PrivateLivesinStalin’sRussia(London:AllenLane,2007),whichincludesfloorplansof theextraordinarilycrammedplaceshiswitnesses inhabited.For the surreal spectacleofStalinhimselfpickinghiswaythroughacommunalka,andlookingwithtouristicinterestatthewritingonthewallaroundthetelephone,seeGrossman,LifeandFate.

3Orangeorlime-greenorlon:orlonbeingtheSovietbrand-nameequivalenttoWesternnylon.4Thedeputydirectorofapigfarm’sontrial:afamouscasefrom1969,hoickedbackintimefortheusual

unscrupulous reasons of dramatic foreshortening. For the trial coverage, as presented for the outrage ofliberal-mindedintellectuals,seeLiteraturnayaGazeta(1969)no.27,p.10.

5OneofthethreeMoscowmaternityhomesthatspecialisedinRh-negpatients:IgetmydetailsofhospitalconditionsforthischapterfromKatherineBlissEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion(WestportCT:GreenwoodPublishingGroup,2004),pp.185–7,andPeterOsnos,‘Childbirth,SovietStyle:ALaborinKeepingWiththePartyLine’,WashingtonPost,28November1976,pp.G13–G14.SomedetailsofSovietmedical procedure for childbirth come from Elizabeth Lee, ‘Health Care in the Soviet Union. Two.Childbirth–SovietStyle’,NursingTimes(1984),1–7February;80(5):44–5,whichisaviewofasystembyaBritishmidwife,focusedmainlyondifferencesingoalsandintentions.Alloftheseapplytoperiodsten

to twentyyearsafter thedateatwhichGalina isgivingbirth,sosomeofwhathappenshere is inevitablyconjectural.Butthesystemdoesnotappeartohavechangedfundamentally,andanyallowancemadefordecayingfacilitiesandincreasingcynicismastheBrezhnevyearswentoncanbebalancedagainstthetruththatthespecialRhesus-negativematernityhospitalswerethesought-afterbestofthesystem.Adifferentkindofallowanceneedstobemadeformyothermajorsourceonprocedure.I.Velvovsky,K.Platonov,V.PloticherandE.Shugom,PainlessChildbirthThroughPsychoprophylaxis:LecturesforObstetricians,translated by David A.Myshne (Foreign Languages Publishing House,Moscow 1960) is a manual forexport,offeringanidealisedversionofpsychoprophylacticchildbirthasitwouldhavebeenifimplementedineverySoviethospitalwiththecareitwasgivenintheonehospitalwhereitwasinvented.WhatGalinaexperiencesismybestguessatpsychoprophylaxisasactuallypractised.

6Andthenhewasbacking,dwindling,absentinghimselffromthescene:husbandswereforbiddentoattendchildbirths,oreventovisitduringthemandatoryten-daystayinthehospitalafterwards.Somewillhave been sorrier than others about this, just as somewomenwill have been sorrier than others for theenforcedrestfromfamilylife.SeeHedrickSmith,TheRussians (London,1976),foradescriptionof thegaggleofmencrowdedbeneaththerecovery-wardwindowstoseethebabiestheirwiveswereholdingup,andtoloadeatablesintothebasketsthewomenloweredonstrings.

7Afacebeneaththewhiteflowerpotthatseemedtodisapproveoftheworld:InnaOlegovnaisentirelyfictional, but my sketch of her aunt-like self-righteousness borrows from my memory of the array ofcensorious, reprovingmiddle-agedmenandwomen in the late-Soviet documentary film Is It Easy toBeYoung?

8Everythingwaswhitetiles,butnotverycleanones:seeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion,p.186.Herwitnessreports‘sliminess’.

9She let themidwife take back the gown and put her under a sluggish blood-warm shower: theshower, theenema, theshavingand thepaintingwithdisinfectantwereallstandardprocedure.Having towalkupflightsofstairswhileinlabourwasnotstandardprocedure,buthappenedfrequentlyanyway.

10‘Primipara,’shesaidtotheAngryAunt,standingbywithaclipboard:medicalvocabularyauthentic,and taken from the sample case histories given in Velvovsky et al., Painless Childbirth ThroughPsychoprophylaxis.

11‘Youdidn’tdothepsychoprophylaxisclasses?’:expectantmotherswereintheorysupposedtobeledbypatient stages througha confrontationwith their fearsoverbirthpain, a reassuring explanationof thephysiologyofchildbirthandademonstrationofrelaxationandbreathingtechniques.Infact,inalmosteverycase theclasseswere taughtbymidwivesordoctorswhohadnotbeenspecially trained,anddid indeedconsistmainlyofthe‘stuffabouttakinglotsofwalks’whichGalina’sneighbourreportstoheronthelabourward, with the specifics of what to expect and to do reduced to an unhelpful gabble at the end. Notknowing that therewasanything important to learn,mostwomen, likeGalina,didn’tbother togo.So thepositiveprogrammeofthepsychoprophylacticmethodscarcelytouchedthem,yettheywerestillsubjecttothe prohibition on drugs associatedwith it, andwere still likely to be judged as if difficultywith the painrepresentedafailureofvirtueontheirpart.

12Whenthecontractionscome,breathedeeply:ifthefewbitsofpsychoprophylacticadviceGalinagetsseemvaguelyfamiliar,that’sbecausetheyare.Psychoprophylaxis,inamelancholyirony,isthebasisofthephenomenallysuccessfulLamazemethodfornaturalbirthintheWest.TheSovietideaswerecarriedbacktoParisbytheFrenchdoctor(andcommunist)FernandLamaze,andhumanisedthere–partlybybringinginbirthpartners,andlesspassivepositionsforlabour,andmoresophisticatedtechniquesofauto-suggestion,butmostofallbybeingmadevoluntary.Awoman‘doingLamaze’canaimforabirthwithminimalmedicalinterventionwhile knowing that the pethidine and the gas and the epidurals are there if sheneeds them.PsychoprophylaxismayseemtoGalinaheretobejustanotherformofcompulsorypretence;butitwouldbe equally just to see it as another piece of mangled Soviet idealism, another genuinely promising idearuined by the magic combination of compulsion and neglect. Velvovsky and his colleagues were thecentury’spioneersintryingtoseechildbirthassomethingbetterthananillnesstobeendured.

13 It was really only messages from the subcortex of the brain which you could turn off bystimulating the cortex: one reason for the rapid promotion of psychoprophylaxis to orthodoxy in theUSSRlayinitsuseofaPavlovianframeworkthatdovetailedwithlate-Stalinistideologicalpreferences.For

the history and personalities involved here, and the role played by this associationwith soon-discreditedscienceinlaterSovietobstetricians’indifferencetothetechniquetheyweresupposedtobepromoting,seeJohnD.Bell, ‘GivingBirth to theNewSovietMan:PoliticsandObstetrics in theUSSR’,Slavic Reviewvol.40no.1(Spring1981),pp.1–16.

14Itmeans they’renot going to giveus anypainkillers: in some hospitals, a single small injection ofpainkillerswasallowed.SeeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion.

15Shehadonlybroughtabowlofwater,andbrisklywipedallthe foreheadsintheroomwithit: theonly thing a midwife was permitted to do for women at this stage of labour, apart from watching forcomplicationswhichmightrequiresurgery.

16Sopullyourselftogetherandbreatheright,oryou’llkillthebaby:anencouragingremarkpassedontotheAmericanjournalistPeterOsnosbythewomanwhohaditsaidtoher.SeeOsnos,‘Childbirth,SovietStyle’.

17Theywere allmashed flies, swatted and left to fester: attested in Eaton,Daily Life in the SovietUnion.

18Babyalreadypapoosedupandwhiskedaway:immediatelyafterbirth,thenewbornwasswaddledinatight roll ofwhite cloth, heldup for themother to see, and then carriedoff to a nursery for twenty-fourhours–apparentlytoreducemother–babytransmissionofinfections,althoughitishardtoseehowthiscanhaveworked.Afterthat,thebabywouldbereturnedforbreastfeeding,theSovietUnionbeing,inonemoreauthoritariancommitment tonaturalness,partlycausedby the faultysupplyofpowderedmilk,anentirelypro-breastsociety.SeeEaton,DailyLifeintheSovietUnion,andLee,‘HealthCareintheSovietUnion’.

PartVI

Introduction

1The ‘Kosygin reforms’ of 1965 put a lotmoremoney in factorymanagers’ pockets: see Ellman,Planning Problems in the Soviet Union. The reforms created, as well as the cash bonus fund formanagers (still tied to theoverfulfilmentof theplan), three ‘incentive funds’ indexed toenterprises’ salesgrowth.Theseweresupposedtostimulatelocalinitiatives,andreceivedabout14%ofprofitsby1968;theirdistribution was strongly skewed towards management and ‘engineering-technical personnel’, with theresult that they reversed the very egalitarian income policy ofKhrushchev’s time, underwhich in someplaces foremenhad received less thanworkers andworkershad earnedmore than allwhite-collar staffwithout technical qualifications. It is also worth remembering that management had very considerablediscretionabouthowthetwonon-cashincentivefunds(for local investmentandworkers’facilities)wereactuallyspent,solongasthebookslookedallright.

2Therewasonlya0.5%upwardblipingrowth:seeabove,notetotheintroductiontopartII,forthefullpanoply of sources on Soviet growth. Figures here from Gregory and Stuart, Russian and SovietEconomicPerformanceandStructure.

3In1961thefirstoilfieldhadbeendiscoveredinwesternSiberia:forthetransformingeffectsoftheSoviet oilstrikes, and their fortuitous timing, see Tony Judt,Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945(London: William Heinemann, 2005); also Nove, Economic History of the USSR, and Shabad, BasicIndustrialResourcesoftheUSSR.

4There were thirty million TV sets in Soviet homes in 1968: figures here from Nove, EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

5Aheavy-industrialsectorwhichhadoncebeenintendedtoexistasaspringboardforsomethingelse,butwhichhadnowbecomeitsownjustification:asseenasearlyasthemid-1960s,withobliquebutinescapableintellectualforce, inthe‘variantcalculation’performedbytheGosplanResearchInstitutefor the 1966–70 Five-Year Plan.Gosplan’s figures showed that increasing the rate of investment in theeconomywould increase output growth in industry but give onlyminimal extra growth in consumption –0.3% extra consumption growth for nearly 6%more investment. Industrial growth in theUSSR did notcarry over into general prosperity. The linkages were missing. See Ellman,Planning Problems in the

USSR.6Moreofthetotaleffortoftheeconomythathosteditthanheavyindustryhaseverdoneanywhere

else: farmore, for instance, thanBritain,Franceor theUnitedStates in themost frenzied stages in thehistoryoftheirindustrialrevolutions,orIndiaandChinanow.Inthishighlyspecialisedandfetishisedsense,theUSSRhadindeedovertakenandsurpassed.SeeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

7The control system for industry grewmore andmore erratic: for the everwilder game-playing bymanagement,andevermoredrasticsurprisemovesbyplanners,seeKuznetsov,‘LearninginNetworks’.

8 One economist has argued that, by the end, it was actively destroying value: see Hodgson,EconomicsandUtopia.Hisexampleisthemen’sshirtsounwearablyhideousthat‘evenSovietcitizens’wouldnottouchit,wovenfromcottonthatcouldhavebeensoldontheworldmarketforactualmoney.

9 Indeed an emigré journal reported the rumour: see Dora Sturman, ‘Chernenko and Andropov:IdeologicalPerspectives’,Survey1(1984),pp.1–21.

10Brezhnev-eraSovietjoke-telling:formany,manyrealexamples,seeGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.TheBrezhnevjokehadacharacteristictoneofnear-endearmentaboutit,asifthestupidityofwhatwasbeingmockedwasultimatelycomfortable.Forinstance:theGeneralSecretaryisenteringthethirdhourofhisspeechtothePartyCongresswhenthecomradesfromtheorgansofsecuritysuddenly swoop and arrest a group ofAmerican spies in the audience. ‘Brilliantwork!’ saysBrezhnev.‘But how did you pick them out?’ ‘Well,’ say theKGBmenmodestly, ‘as you yourself have observed,ComradeGeneralSecretary,theenemyneversleeps…’

11Science…wastobe‘administered’not‘supported’:adeliberatechangeofvocabularyafter1965byBrezhnev’s new Central Committee Secretary for Science, Trapeznikov. See Josephson, New AtlantisRevisited.

12Thediscreetlittleunmarkedofficesofthesecurityservice’sFifthDepartment: seeChurchward,SovietIntelligentsia.

13Aminute fraction of the intelligentsia gave up on the Soviet system altogether: Churchward’staxonomyofSovietintellectualsinthe1960sclasses75%ofthemas‘CareeristProfessionals’,withmostof the remainder accounted for by the various wings of the ‘Humanist Intelligentsia’ of the artsestablishment. Everyone in the Akademgorodok sections of this book with the exception of ZoyaVaynshteynandMowouldfallintothe‘LoyalOppositionist’subgroupofChurchward’sCareerists.

14Severaltimesinthelate1960sand1970stherewerestrikes:seeNove,EconomicHistoryoftheUSSR.

15Ty-mne,ya-tebe,‘youtomeandItoyou’:theRussianproverbequivalentto‘YouscratchmybackandI’llscratchyours’,butwithparticularblatassociations.Forthisandotherphrasesoftheblatvocabularyofthe1960s–1980s,seeLedeneva,Russia’sEconomyofFavours.

16 The vast majority of the Soviet population were, indeed, basically contented: for the lack ofpressurefrombelowforchange,andtheorigininsteadwithinthePartyofthesystem’scollapseinthelate1980s, seeKotkin,ArmageddonAverted.On the face of it, one of the great historicalmysteries of thetwentieth century should be the question ofwhy theSoviet reformers of the 1980s didn’t even considerfollowing the pragmatic Chinese path, and dismantling the economic structure of state socialism whilekeeping its political framework intact. Instead, the Soviet government dismantled the Leninist politicalstructurewhile tryingwith increasing desperation tomake the planned economywork. But themysteryresolves rather easily if it is posited that Gorbachev and the intellectuals around him, all children of the1930s and young adults under Khrushchev, might strange to say have been really and truly socialists,guarding a loyal glimmer of belief right through the Brezhnevite ‘years of stagnation’, and seizing thechanceafter twodecadesofdelay to return to theirgenerationalprojectofmakinga socialism thatwasprosperous, humane, and intelligent.With disastrous results. This whole book is, in fact, a prehistory ofperestroika.

17Theenvironmentwasincreasinglytoxic:asrevealednotjustinlife-expectancyfigurestrendinggentlydownwards again from the 1960s, but also in falling birth weights and other physical indicators. SeeElizabethBrainerd, ‘Reassessing theStandardofLiving in theSovietUnion:AnAnalysisUsingArchivalandAnthropometricData’,WilliamDavidsonInstituteWorkingPaperno.812(January2006).AvailableatSSRN:http://ssrn.com/abstract=906590.

18TimeforKVN,Klubveselykhinakhodchivykh:fortheinfluenceofhumourousSovietTV,seeGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisoftheRusso-SovietAnekdot’.

19 Brezhnev himself, for example , was very taken with denim jackets: the story of the GeneralSecretary’sone-offjeanjacketisinhistailor’smemoir.SeeAleksandrIgmandwithAnastasiaYushkova,YaOdevalBrezhneva(‘IDressedBrezhnev’)(Moscow:NLO,2008).Ifoundit,however,inanEnglish-languagereviewofthebook:AnnaMalpas,‘SuitsYou,Ilyich’,MoscowTimes,14November2008.

VI.1TheUnifiedSystem,1970

1Acell.Alungcell:themolecularbiologyofthischapterisaccurateasfarasitgoes,andIamassuredthatthedwindlingprobabilitiesofthemoleculareventsinitareatleastoftherightordersofmagnitude.Butitshould be remembered that the chapter only follows one possible route by which one toxin in tobaccosmokecaninduceonevarietyoflungcancer.Therearemanyotherroutes,othertoxins,andothercancers,soarealisticpathtowardscarcinogenesiswouldbemuchlesslinearthanthesimpleillustrativezoomIhaveselected here. It would trace its way in massive parallel through a massively forking labyrinth ofprobabilities.Idrewheavilyon–inhaledheavilyfrom–TheodoraR.Devereux,JackA.TaylorandJ.CarlBarrett, ‘Molecular Mechanisms of Lung Cancer: Interaction of Environmental and Genetic Factors’,Chest1996,109;14–19;andonStephenS.Hecht, ‘Tobaccocarcinogens, theirbiomarkersand tobacco-inducedcancer’,NatureReviewsCancer3,October2003,pp.733–44.IamalsoindebtedtoDrClaerwenJamesforenlightenmentviaconversationandemail.

2 Lebedev has smoked sixty unfiltered Kazbek a day for fifty years: I’m making up the specificnumbers,buthe’sknowntohavebeenapersistentlyheavysmoker.SeeMalinovsky,PioneersofSovietComputing,p.26.

3Hero of Socialist Labour,Order of theRedBanner of Labour, twoOrders of Lenin: Lebedev’sauthentic ironmongery. TheOrders of Lenin are the biggest deal. For the fringe benefits of the variousSovietmedals,seetheWikipediaentriesforeach.

4As the joke says, if a crocodile ate him: authentic. See, again,Graham,ACultural Analysis of theRusso-SovietAnekdot.

5‘TheMinisterdoesknowI’mwaiting,doesn’the?’saysLebedev:thisscene,upatthemacroscaleof the dark corridor in the Kremlin, is a fantasia generated from the single true fact (for which seeMalinovsky, Pioneers of Soviet Computing, p. 26) that Lebedev did drag himself to a meeting withKosygin in1970,whenhehada ‘life-threateningpulmonary illness’, to remonstrate about thedecision inDecember1969toabandonindependentSovietcomputerdesigninfavouroftrailingafterIBM,yearslate;andKosygindidrefusetoseehim.Butinlife,thepalming-offtooktheformofanunsatisfactoryencounterwithoneofKosygin’sdeputies,notthecompletestonewallingthathappenshere,andnodoubtithappenedinbrightdaylight.

6And the ignorance isparticularlybad in theSovietUnion: for a sense ofwhat Sovietmedicine didknow,clinically,aboutcancerinthemid-sixties,seethevividdescriptionsofdiagnosisandradiotherapyinAleksandrSolzhenitsyn’sbannedCancerWard, translatedbyNicholasBethell andDavidBurg (London:BodleyHead,1968).

7On 18December last year Lebedev sat in ameeting atMinradioprom:Malinovsky has a partialtranscript of the discussion at this crucialmeeting,whichwas complicated by political rivalries betweendifferentbureauxwhichstoodtoloseorgaindependingwhichwaythedecisionwent,andbythefactthatLebedevandhisallies’proposaltomaintainnativeSovietdesigncapabilitycamewithasecondaryplantocooperate with ICL in Britain. See Pioneers of Soviet Computing, pp. 130–2. For the IBM-modelled‘UnifiedSystem’as itactually inchedintoexistence in the1970s, lateateverystage,seeN.C.DavisandS.E.Goodman,‘TheSovietBloc’sUnifiedSystemofComputers’,ComputingSurveysvol.10no.2(June1978),pp.93–122.

8Brusentsov’s trinary processor at theUniversity ofMoscow: seeMalinovsky,Pioneers of SovietComputing,pp.134–8.

9Fluid build-up behind the lung obstruction eventually leads to pneumonia and death:despite thetoneofclinicalcertaintyhere,IdonotknowwhatkindofcarcinomaSergeiLebedevcontracted,oreven

forsurethathis‘seriouslungdisease’wascancer,thoughitseemsoverwhelminglylikely.Buthediddieofit,whateveritwas,inJuly1974;thefuzzyundesignedprobabilisticmachineryofhisbodydid,inonefashionoranother,generatethedeterministicprocessrequiredtoshifthim,conclusively,from1to0.

VI.2PoliceintheForest,1968

1 Crave the use of telescopes, or gaze hungrily at the Computer Centre, like some ofAkademgorodok’schildren:forwhomtheingeniousAcademicianLavrentiev,wantingtonurturefuturegenerationsofscientists,createdthe‘ClubofYoungInventors’.TherewasalsoanannualsummerschoolatAkademgorodok towhich teenagers from across theUSSR competed to come, to playmathematicalgamesandhavetheirbrainsstretchedbythegreat.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

2If todaywent as she expected itwould: in this chapter I’ve telescoped together two adjacent but notsimultaneousrealeventsatAkademgorodok,thedisciplinarymeetingscalledintheInstitutestopunishtheforty-sixsignatoriesoftheletterprotestingthetrialinMoscowofthedissidentAleksandrGinzburg(earlyApril1968)andtheFestivalofBardsatwhichSashaGalichgavetheoneandonlypublicperformanceintheUSSRof his satirical songs (May1968).RaissaBerg, the real biologist inwhose shoes the fictionalZoyaVaynshteyn is standing,was indeedoneof the signatories,did indeedget fired in the sameadroitlyindirectmanner as Zoya does, and did indeed have difficulties with an unexpected informer among herfamilycircle–butZoya’scharacter,relationshipsandmotiveshereareallinvention.

3She flipped it over to look at the spine.Roadside Picnic.Well, well: another compression of thechronology.ArkadyandBorisStrugatsky’swonderfulPikniknaObochine,whichMax is readinghere,was in truth not publisheduntil 1972.Thequotation is from the1977English translationbyAntoninaW.Bouis(London:Macmillan).

4 Computer programmers went by on cross-country skis: an ordinary method of Akademgorodoktransportation,inwinter.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

5UnderthewretchedcentennialbannerofLeninblessingthechildren: thehundredthanniversaryofLenin’sbirthin1868,celebratedwithoutbreaksofunctuousLeninolatryinallartisticmedia.SeeGraham,‘ACulturalAnalysisof theRusso-SovietAnekdot’, for the intriguingpossibility that thesecurity servicesmay have deliberately seeded Soviet society in 1968with several new tempting genres ofankedoty, inordertoheadoffthepossibilityofaplagueofLeninjokes.

6Themanwho,theysaid,hadtriedtoposeaproblemtoeachofthecandidates:seeAganbegyan’smemoirofKantorovichinKantorovich,KutateladzeandFet,eds,L.V.Kantorovich,ChelovekiUchenii.

7 Cybernetics was not the meeting ground it used to be: for the decline of cybernetic hopes, seeGerovitch,FromNewspeaktoCyberspeak .

8Downhewentintoaheap:asIwastoldinAkademgorodok,oneofthelegendaryqualitiesofKantorovich(alongside his fondness for dancing with tall women, and his wish to be driven everywhere by car ifpossible)wastheeasewithwhichhemanagedtohaveaccidents.

9AgoodjoketolocktheJewsoutinthecoldovernight:forthedepressingresumptionofordinarypost-Stalin levels of anti-Semitism in what had been a relatively prejudice-free zone, see Josephson, NewAtlantisRevisited.Forthespecificincidentofthedormitorylockout,andtheJews/chickenssign,seeBerg,AcquiredTraits,p.366.

10Nuclearfusioninthepostofficequeue: itwasexactlythisconversation,overheardinlate1962whilewaiting for a stamp, which charmed the visiting sociologist Tatyana Zaslavskaia into moving toAkademgorodok.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.TheclampdownatAkademgorodok,beginningin1965butseverelyintensifiedafter1968,neverquiteeliminatedthetown’sfree-speakingways,becauseitnever eliminated the combustible and facinatingmixture of people, but it removed the public venues forunguardedspeechandrestoredsomethinglikeaSoviet-normaldegreeofcaution.

11ThegrantsfromtheFakelcollectivewereentirelylegalandaboveboard:Fakel,meaning‘torch’,hadbeenfoundedinJune1966asa‘youngpeople’sscientificproductionassociation’.Ineffect,itwasthenearest thinginSoviethistorytoaspun-out techstartup.By1968,whenitwasindeedsuppressed, ithadfulfilled more than a hundred commissions for software and could call on the talents of eight hundredpeople,250ofthemundergraduates.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

12UndertheIntegral,theCyberneticsKaffee-klatch,thelot:Akademgorodokhadbeenremarkablefortheprofusionandfreedomofitssocialclubs,whereyoucouldfinddancing,snacks,cards, improvisedartshows,anddiscussion,discussion,discussion.At theKofeinyiKlubKibernetiki – jokily, theKKK– therule was that anyone who spoke had to address the listeners as ‘respected non-empty set of thinkingsystems’.But often thereweren’t any listeners, exactly.KKKmeetingswere notorious for endingwitheveryone down at the front, all scribbling excitably on the blackboard and trying to talk at once. SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

13‘Theysayhe’ssavingthesteel-tubeindustrynow,sincetheywouldn’tlethimsavetheworld?’:AsarcasticallusiontoKantorovich’simportantrole,throughoutthesecondhalfofthe1960s,inaprojecttorationalise production scheduling in the rollingmills controlled by Soyuzglavmetal, ‘UnionMetal Supply’.Theteamheledcreatedthepartofavastsoftwareensemblethatautomatedandoptimisedthetraditionalpaperfilesofbronirovshchiki,productionschedulers.Kantorovichmaywellhavethoughtoftheprojectasa very large-scale demonstration of the viability of optimal planning.Needless to say,while the plannerswerehappytolethimusehisshadowpricesasananalyticaltoolfortuningamill’soutput,theydeclinedtotakeuphislargerschemeofusingthemtoautomateanddecentralisetheirownactivities.Itwasclaimedthat,bythesecondhalfof1969,theoptimisedmethodwasgivinganextraoutputofsixtythousandtonnesofsteel tubes.Whatever theexact truth, the ironyremains that, in the1970s, itwasdownKantorovich’soptimisedpipes that theoil flowedwhichBrezhnev’sgovernmentusedas their free-moneyalternative tosortingouttheeconomy.SeeEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

14Ticktheboxes,writethenumbersonthecyclostyledreturns:aconjecturalrendition,withinventeddetails, of the real research project pursued at Akademgorodok by Raissa Berg until she was fired forsigningthe1968protestletter.Theprocessofdeductionhere,fromratesofbirthdefecttoconcealedsocialhistory,isentirelyauthentic.SeeBerg,AcquiredTraits,pp.356–9.

15‘Wehavejustoneunpleasantitemontheagendatoday,’saidtheDirector:much,butnotquiteall,of thedialogue that follows is agreatly redactedandcompressedversionof realutterances recordedbyRaissaBergfrommemoryafterherownequivalenthearing,andtriumphantlyrecordedinanappendixofherautobiographyAcquiredTraits,pp.453–68.Ihaveselectedtosuppressasetofcriss-crosspersonalityclashestoocomplextoconvey,andtobringoutthealmostuniversalexasperationwith‘dissident’behaviour.

16They were filing one by one across the little stage in the hot box of the House of Science’satrium: in fact, the Festival ofBardswas held in themuch larger auditorium of theHouse of Science,whichheldtwothousandpeople,butIhavemoveditforthesimplereasonthat,ofthetwo,theatriumisthespace I have seen and can describe. Even in the auditorium, the concert was as packed as I haverepresented it being here.And somany peoplewere unable to get tickets at all, particularly among thestudentsofNovosibirskStateUniversity,whichhadacampusatAkademgorodok,thatadeputationfetchedGalichfromthehotelatmidnightandcarriedhimofftoplayacompletesecondshowat2a.m.intheeight-hundred-seater ‘Moscow’ cinema. Other performers at the first, official show included VolodyamirVysotsky,BulatOkudzhavaandIuliiKim.SeeJosephson,NewAtlantisRevisited.

17‘Who’s this?’ ‘Film-music composer, I think’:Zoya’s ignoranceofwhoGalich is, andher completesurpriseatwhathesings,areunrealistichere.Anyonewithhersympathiesandconnections,evenif theywerewhollyuninterestedinmusic,wouldby1968haveheardofhisundergroundsongs,whichbynowhehadbeencomposing–andsingingtofriends–forsomeyears.Probablyshewouldactuallyhavelistenedtosomeofthem.Theycirculatedasmagnetizdat,illicittaperecordings.Soonceagainhere,Ihavecheatedfor the sake of heightened drama, and in order to bring out more strongly the genuine shock andastonishmentcausedwhenGalichutteredinpublicthoughtsthatwereonlypermissibleinthemostprivateof conversations. For Galich’s magnetizdat reputation, and the impact of his performance on theAkademgorodokaudience,seeBerg,AcquiredTraits,pp.375–7;fortheinstitutionalconsequencesoftheFestival of Bards, see Josephson, New Atlantis Revisited; for the consequences for Galich himself,includinghisexpulsionfromtheWriters’Union,lossofallprivilegesandeventualexilefromtheUSSR,seethebiographicalintroductiontoGalich,SongsandPoems.

18Thisissomethingcalled‘TheGold-Miner’sWaltz’:arealGalichsong,withthetranslationbyGeraldStantonSmithslightlytweakedbytheauthorforsingability,butnotoneheisonrecordasperformingthatnight.Insteadheplayed‘Clouds’,aboutanex-prisoneroftheGulaggettingdrunkinabar,‘TheBalladof

SurplusValue’,aboutaSovietcitizenwhoinheritsafortune,and‘OdetoPasternak’.ItwasthislastonethatsmashedallthetaboosofappropriatespeechandbroughtthehousedowngaspingatAkademgorodok– but the ‘Ode’ is complicatedly allusive in its outrage, so I have substituted themore self-explanatorysilence-breakingof‘TheGold-Miner’sWaltz’.Besides,ithastreasureislandsinit.

19Justabasicstrum-strum-strum,withhisvoicedoingalltheworkoverthetop:anothercalculatedartificialnaivetyonZoya’spart,becausethisisprettymuchwhatthewholeSovietgenreof‘bardsongs’soundslike.ThinkJacquesBrel.

VI.3ThePensioner,1968

1Therewasabenchbythewallattheendofthedacha’sgrounds:Khrushchev’sretirementdachahadabench,wherehelikedtositwithhisdogArbatandhisrookKava,andithadawallbyafieldpath,wherepassingSovietcitizensinholidaymooddidindeedshylystopandasktohavetheirphotostakenwithhim.Butthebenchwasnotbythewall.FortheauthenticmelancholyofKhrushchev’slastyears,seeTaubman,Khrushchev,pp.620–45,andSergeiKhrushchev,KhrushchevonKhrushchev,pp.165–332.

2FrolKozlov…onhisdeathbed,callingforapriest:recountedinBurlatsky,KhrushchevandtheFirstRussianSpring,p.199.

3 It was worst if he was stupid enough ever to watch a war film:Khrushchev’s war movie-inducednightmares were described by Sergei Khrushchev in 2008 in a lecture attended by the writer MichaelSwanwick. See Swanwick’s blog entry on the event athttp://floggingbabel.blogspot.com/2008/02/khrushchev-isnt-he-russian-novelist.html[sic].

4 The giant television receiver in the living room: presented on his seventieth birthday, with manyunctuousspeeches,justbeforetheydeposedhim.SeeTaubman,Khrushchev,p.614.

5Outwould come the othermemories: which aremy imaginings of remembered horrors for him, notattested incidents.Butwhen theplaywrightMikhailShatrovaskedhim, lateon inhis retirement,whatheregretted, he said: ‘Most of all the blood. My arms are up to the elbows in blood.’ See Taubman,Khrushchev,p.639.

6‘Paradise’,hetoldthewheatfieldinbaffledfury:notreallysaidindirectresponsetotheSovietinvasionofCzechoslovakia inAugust 1968, as here, but a real quotation from the tapesKhrushchev recorded inretirement.ThiswasamongthepassagesheldbackfromthetranscribedmemoirhissonhadsmuggledtotheWest for publication, with help from sympathetic hands in the security service. So it’s not in NikitaKhrushchev, Khrushchev Remembers (Boston MA: Little Brown, 1970); or in the first volume ofsupplementarymaterial,KhrushchevRemembers:TheLastTestament(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1974).See instead Nikita Khrushchev,Khrushchev Remembers: The Glasnost Tapes, ed. and translated byJerroldV.SchecterandVyacheslavV.Luchkov(BostonMA:LittleBrown,1990).

7Five hundred producers. Sixty thousand consumers. Eight hundred thousand allocation orders:figuresfromtheaccountoftheSoyuzglavmetalprojectinEllman,PlanningProblemsintheUSSR.

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Frederick S. Starr,Red andHot: The Fate of Jazz in the SovietUnion, 1917–1980 (NewYork:OUP,1983)

JosephE.Stiglitz,WhitherSocialism?(CambridgeMA:MITPress,1994)Arkady and Boris Strugatsky,Hard to be a God, translated byWendayne Ackerman (New York: DAW,

1974);TrudnoBytBogom(1964)—,MondayBeginsonSaturday, translatedbyLeonidRenen(NewYork:DAW,1977);asMondayStartson Saturday, translated by Andrew Bromfield (London: Seagull Publishing, 2005); Ponedelniknachinaetsyavsubbotu(1966)

—,Roadside Picnic, translated by Antonina W. Bouis (London: Macmillan, 1977); Piknik na Obochine(1972)

PekkaSutela,EconomicsandEconomicReformintheSovietUnion(Cambridge:CUP,1991)MichelTatu,PowerintheKremlin:FromKhrushchev’sDeclinetoCollectiveLeadership, trans.fromthe

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(BoulderCO:WestviewPress,1988)ColinThubron,InSiberia(London:ChattoandWindus,1999)GaryJohnTocchet,SeptemberThaw:Khrushchev’sVisittoAmerica,1959,PhDthesis,Stanford1995LizWilliams,NineLayersofSky(NewYork:BantamSpectra,2003)Andrew Wilson, Virtual Politics: Faking Democracy in the Post-Soviet World (New Haven CT: Yale

UniversityPress,2005)EdmundWilson,TotheFinlandStation:AStudyintheWritingandActingofHistory(NewYork,1940)JackWomack,Let’sPuttheFutureBehindUs(NewYork:AtlanticMonthlyPress,1996)AlanWoods,Bolshevism–TheRoadtoRevolution:AHistoryoftheBolshevikParty(London:WellRed,

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WorldHealthOrganisation,InternationalProgrammeonChemicalSafety:EnvironmentalHealthCriteria10:CarbonDisulfide(Geneva,1979)

I.Velvovsky,K. Platonov,V. Ploticher andE. Shugom,Painless Childbirth Through Psychoprophylaxis:Lectures for Obstetricians, trans. David A. Myshne (Foreign Languages Publishing House, Moscow1960)

E.Zaleski,PlanningReforms in theUSSR1962–66 (ChapelHillNC:UniversityofNorthCarolinaPress,1967)

A.Zauberman,TheMathematicalRevolutioninSovietEconomics(London:RoyalInstituteofInternationalAffairs/OUP,1975)

AleksandrZinoviev,TheYawningHeights,translatedbyGordonClough(NewYork:RandomHouse,1978)

Articles

I.Anchishkin,‘TheProblemofAbundanceandtheTransitiontoCommunistDistribution’,inHarryG.Shaffer,ed.,The Soviet Economy: ACollection ofWestern and Soviet Views (NewYork:Appleton-Century-Crofts,1963),pp.133–8;originallypublishedinVoprosyEkonomikino.1,1962

Djurdja Bartlett, ‘TheAuthentic Soviet Glamour of Stalinist High Fashion’,Revista deOccidente no. 317,November2007

— ‘LetThemWearBeige: The Petit-BourgeoisWorld ofOfficial SocialistDress’,Fashion Theory vol. 8issue2,pp.127–64

V.Bel’chuk, ‘On theRelationshipBetweenDemand and Supply ofConsumerGoodsDuring the Period ofCommunist Construction’, Problems of Economics (translated digest of articles from Soviet economicjournals, International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 7 no. 3 (July 1964), pp. 3–13; originally inNauchnyedokladyvyssheishkoly,ekonomicheskienaukino.5,1963

JohnD.Bell,‘GivingBirthtotheNewSovietMan:PoliticsandObstetricsintheUSSR’,SlavicReviewvol.40no.1(Spring1981),pp.1–16

JosephBerliner,‘InformalOrganizationoftheSovietFirm’,QuarterlyJournalofEconomics,August1952,pp.342–65

—, ‘Economic Reform in the USSR’ in John W. Strong, ed., The Soviet Union Under Brezhnev andKosygin(NewYork:VanNostrandReinhold,1971),pp.50–60

ABoyarskii,‘OntheApplicationofMathematicsinEconomics’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&Sciences Press,NY) vol. 4 no. 9 (January 1962), pp. 12–24; originally inVoprosy Ekonomiki no. 2,1961

ElizabethBrainerd,‘ReassessingtheStandardofLivingintheSovietUnion:AnAnalysisUsingArchivalandAnthropometric Data’, William Davidson Institute Working Paper no. 812 (January 2006). Available atSSRN:http://ssrn.com/abstract=906590

StephenBroadberryandSayantanGhosal,‘Technology,organisationandproductivityperformanceinservices:lessonsfromBritainandtheUnitedStatessince1870’,StructuralChangeandEconomicDynamicsvol.16issue4(December2005),pp.437–66

R. Campbell, ‘Marx, Kantorovich and Novozhilov: Stoimost’ versus Reality’, Slavic Review 40 (October1961),pp.402–18

W.PaulCockshott andAllin F.Cottrell, ‘Socialist PlanningAfter theCollapse of the SovietUnion’,Revueeuropéenedessciencessocialesvol.31no.96(1993),pp.167–85

—,‘Calculation,ComplexityandPlanning:TheSocialistCalculationDebateOnceAgain’,ReviewofPoliticalEconomyvol.5no.1(July1993),pp.73–112

—, ‘InformationandEconomics:ACritiqueofHayek’,Research inPoliticalEconomy vol. 16 (1997), pp.177–202

Beatriz Colomina, ‘Information obsession: the Eameses’ multiscreen architecture’, The Journal ofArchitecturevol.6(Autumn2001),pp.205–23

‘StarCity’,Colors45(August–September2001)N.C.DavisandS.E.Goodman,‘TheSovietBloc’sUnifiedSystemofComputers’,ComputingSurveysvol.

10no.2(June1978),pp.93–122Theodora R. Devereux, Jack A. Taylor and J. Carl Barrett, ‘Molecular Mechanisms of Lung Cancer:

InteractionofEnvironmentalandGeneticFactors’,Chest1996;109;14–19G.Dikhtiar, ‘SovietTrade in thePeriodof theFull-ScaleBuildingofCommunism’,ProblemsofEconomics

(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.4(August1962),pp.45–52;originallyinKommunistno.7,1962

Craig D’Ooge, ‘“Kazam!”Major Exhibition of theWork of American Designers Charles and Ray EamesOpens’,LibraryofCongressInformationBulletin,May1999

MichaelEllmanandVolodyamirKontorovich,‘TheCollapseoftheSovietSystemandtheMemoirLiterature’,Europe–AsiaStudiesvol.49no.2(1997),pp.259–79

EdithRogovinFrankel, ‘LiteraryPolicy inStalin’sLastYear’,SovietStudies vol. 28 no. 3 (July 1976), pp.391–405

J. K. Galbraith, ‘The Day Khrushchev Visited the Establishment’,Harper’sMagazine vol. 242 no. 1,449(February1971),pp.72–5

RachelGoff,‘TheRoleofTraditionalRussianFolkloreinSovietPropaganda’,Perspectives:StudentJournalof Germanic and Slavic Studies (Brigham Young University) vol. 12 (Winter 2004). Available at:http://germslav.byu.edu/perspectives/w2004contents.html

DavidGranick,‘AnOrganizationalModelofSovietIndustrialPlanning’inFranklynZ.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:RandMcNally,1962)

GregoryGrossman,‘InnovationandInformationintheSovietEconomy’,AmericanEconomicReviewvol.16no.2(May1966),pp.121–2

MarkHarrison,‘Sovieteconomicgrowthsince1928:ThealternativestatisticsofG.I.Khanin’,Europe–AsiaStudiesvol.45no.1(1993),pp.141–67

—,‘Coercion,complianceandthecollapseoftheSovietcommandeconomy’,EconomicHistoryReviewvol.55no.3(2002),pp.397–433

—,‘Post-warRussianEconomicGrowth:NotaRiddle’,Europe–AsiaStudiesvol.55no.8(2003),pp.1323–9

F.A.Hayek,‘TheUseofKnowledgeinSociety’,TheAmericanEconomicReviewvol.35issue4(September1945),pp.519–30

Stephen S. Hecht, ‘Tobacco carcinogens, their biomarkers and tobacco-induced cancer’, Nature ReviewsCancer3(October2003),pp.733–44

OlegHoeffding,‘TheSovietIndustrialReorganizationof1957’,inFranklynD.Holzman,ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago:Rand-McNally,1962)

FranklynD.Holzman,‘TheSovietBondHoax’,ProblemsofCommunism6no.5(1957),pp.47–9R.Judy,‘TheEconomists’,inG.SkillingandF.Griffith,eds,InterestGroupsinSovietPolitics(PrincetonNJ:

PrincetonUniversityPress,1971)OlgaKarpushina,‘AttheIntersectionofGenres:Galich’sGenericMontage’,inStudiesinSlavicCulturesIV:Bakhtin (Slavic Department, University of Pittsburgh, September 2003). Available at:www.pitt.edu/~slavic/sisc/SISC4/index.html

A.Kats,‘ConcerningaFallaciousConceptofEconomicCalculation’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts& Sciences Press, NY) vol. 3 no. 7 (November 1960), pp. 42–52; originally published inVoprosyEkonomikino.5,1960

Aron Katsenelinboigen, ‘Application of Mathematical Methods in Economic Research’, Problems ofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol. 5 no. 1 (May1962), pp. 26–32; originally inVestnikAkademiiNaukSSSRno.9,1961

G.I.Khanin, ‘1950s–TheTriumphof theSovietEconomy’,Europe–AsiaStudies vol. 55 no. 8 (December2003),pp.1,187–1,212

A.Komin, ‘EconomicSubstantiationofPurchasePricesofAgriculturalProducts’,Problems of Economics(translateddigestofarticlesfromSovieteconomicjournals,InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.9(January1963),pp.29–36;originallyinPlanovoeKhosyaistvono.7,1962

V.Kossov,Yu.FinkelsteinandA.Modin,‘MathematicalMethodsandElectronicComputersinEconomicsandPlanning’ [report of Novosibirsk conferences, October and December 1962], Problems of Economics

(International Arts & Sciences Press, NY) vol. 6 no. 7 (November 1963); originally in PlanovoeKhozyaistvono.2,1963

A.N.Kosygin, ‘On Improving Industrial Management, Perfecting Planning, and Enhancing EconomicIncentives in IndustrialProduction’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.6(October1965),pp.3–28;originallyinIzvestiya,28September1965

N.I.Kovalev, ‘Problems in Introducing Mathematics and Electronic Computers in Planning’, Problems ofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.4(August1962),pp.53–61;originallyinPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.8(1961)andVoprosyEkonomikino.12(1961)

—, ‘Scientific Planning and a Rational System of Economic Information’, Problems of Economics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.6no.7(November1963),pp.3–17;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.12,1962

Paul Krugman, ‘The Myth of Asia’s Miracle: A Cautionary Fable’, Foreign Affairs vol. 73 no. 6(November/December1994),pp.62–78

S. S. Kutateladze, ‘The Path and Space of Kantorovich’, talk at the international Kantorovich memorialconference,EulerInternationalMathematicalInstitute,StPetersburg,8–13January2004

Yevgeny Kuznetsov, ‘Learning in Networks: Enterprise Behaviour in the Former Soviet Union andContemporary Russia’, in Joan M. Nelson, Charles Tilley and Lee Walker, eds, Transforming Post-CommunistPoliticalEconomies(WashingtonDC:NationalAcademyPress,1997)

Oskar Lange, ‘The Computer and theMarket’ in C. Feinstein, ed.,Capitalism, Socialism and EconomicGrowth:EssaysPresentedtoMauriceDobb(Cambridge:CUP,1967),pp.158–61

ElizabethLee, ‘HealthCare in theSovietUnion.Two.Childbirth–SovietStyle’,NursingTimes (1984)1–7February;80(5):44–5

Herbert S. Levine, ‘The Centralized Planning of Supply in Soviet Industry’, in Franklyn Z. Holzman, ed.,ReadingsontheSovietEconomy(Chicago,1962)

E. G. Liberman, ‘Planning Production and Standards of Long-Term Operation’, Problems of Economics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.5no.8(December1962),pp.16–22;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.8(1962)

—, ‘AreWeFlirtingWithCapitalism?Profitsand“Profits”’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4(August1965),pp.36–41;originallyinSovietLife,July1965

AngusMaddison, ‘Measuring thePerformanceofaCommunistCommandEconomy:AnAssessmentof theCIAEstimatesfortheUSSR’,ReviewofIncomeandWealthvol.44no.3(September1998),pp.307–23

AnnaMalpas,‘StyleforSocialists’,MoscowTimes,27April2007—,‘SuitsYou,Ilyich’,MoscowTimes,14November2008JohnMcClureandMichaelUrban,‘TheFolkloreofStateSocialism’,SovietStudiesvol.35no.4(1983),pp.

471–86JamesR.Miller,‘HistoryandAnalysisofSovietDomesticBondPolicy’,SovietStudies27,no.4 (1975),p.

601PMstislavskii, ‘Quantitative Expression of EconomicRelationships’,Problems of Economics (International

Arts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.4no.9(January1962),pp.3–12;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.2(1961)

V.S.Nemchinov,‘ValueandPriceUnderSocialism’,ProblemsofEconomics(InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.4no.3(July1961),pp.3–17;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.12(1960)

V. V. Novozhilov, ‘On Choosing Between Investment Projects’, translated by B. Ward, InternationalEconomicPapers6(1956),pp.66–87

—,‘CalculationofOutlaysinaSocialistEconomy’,ProblemsofEconomics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.4no.8(December1961),pp.18–28;originallyinVoprosyEkonomikino.2(1961)

FelixJ.Oinas,‘FolkloreandPoliticsintheSovietUnion’,SlavicReview32(1973),pp.45–58Peter Osnos, ‘Childbirth, Soviet Style: A Labor in Keeping With the Party Line’, Washington Post, 28

November1976,pp.G13–G14Alex Soojung-Kim Pang, ‘Dome Days: Buckminster Fuller in the ColdWar’ in Jenny Uglow and Francis

Spufford,eds,CulturalBabbage:Technology,TimeandInvention(London:FaberandFaber,1996),pp.167–92

Vsevolod Pugachev, ‘Voprosy optimal’nogo planirovaniia narodnogo khoziaistva s pomoshch’iu edinoigosudarstvennoisetivychistel’nykhtsentrov’,VoprosyEkonomikino.7(1964),pp.93–103

AndrewRoberts,‘MoscowMule’,TheIndependentMotoringSection,11October2005,p.7PaulCraigRoberts,‘MyTimewithSovietEconomics’,TheIndependentReviewvol.7no.2(Fall2002),pp.

259–64Gertrude E. Schroeder, ‘Soviet Economic Reform at an Impasse’,Problems of Communism vol. 20 no. 4

(July–August1971),pp.36–46—,‘The“Reform”oftheSupplySysteminSovietIndustry’,SovietStudiesvol.24no.1(July1972),pp.97–

119PiotrSiuda,‘TheNovocherkasskTragedy,June1–31962’,RussianLabourReview2,1993JessicaSmith,‘SiberianScienceCity’,NewWorldReview,thirdquarter1969,pp.86–101V.Sokolov,M.NazarovandN.Kozlov,‘TheFirmandtheCustomer’,ProblemsofEconomics(International

Arts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.8no.4(August1965),pp.3–14;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,6January1965

Charles N. Steele, ‘The Soviet Experiment: Lessons for Development’ in Julian Morris, ed., SustainableDevelopment:PromotingProgressorPerpetuatingPoverty(ProfileBooks,London2002)

S. Stoliarov andZ. Smirnova, ‘Analysis of Price Structure’,Problems of Economics (InternationalArts&SciencesPress,NY)vol.6no.9(January1964),pp.11–21;originallyinVestnikStatistikino.1,1963

DoraSturman,‘ChernenkoandAndropov:IdeologicalPerspectives’,Survey1(1984),pp.1–21V.G.Tremi,‘ThePoliticsofLibermanism’,SovietStudies19(1968),pp.567–72Unsigned article, ‘Economics and Politics’,Problems of Economics (International Arts & Sciences Press,

NY)vol.7no.11,March1965;originallyinEkonomicheskayaGazeta,11November1964Unsignedarticle,‘ResultsoftheWorkoftheChemicalFibresIndustryfor1968’,FibreChemistryvol.1no.2

(March–April1969),pp.117–20;translationofKhimicheskieVoloknano.2(March–April1969),pp.1–3TatyanaZaslavskaya,‘TheNovosibirskReport’,EnglishtranslationbyTeresaCherfas,Survey1 (1984),pp.

88–108P.Zhelezniak, ‘ScientificConferenceon theApplicationofMathematicalMethods inEconomicStudies and

Planning’,Problems of Economics (InternationalArts& Sciences Press,NY) vol. 3 no. 7 (November1960),pp.3–6;originallyinPlanovoeKhozyaistvono.5,1960

Ye.Zhukovskii, ‘Building theSvetlogorskArtificalFiberPlant’,SovetskayaBelorussya, 2December 1962;translatedinUSSREconomicDevelopment,No.58:SovietChemicalIndustry,USDeptofCommerceJointPublicationsResearchServicereport18,411,28March1963,pp.17–20

Newsreports

CurrentDigestoftheSovietPress(AnnArborMI:JointCommitteeonSlavicStudies)vol.11no.30,pp.3–4,7–12,andvol.11no.31,pp.10–13–pressreactiontotheAmericanexhibition;vol.13no.42,pp.13–17,andvol.13no.43,pp.18–23–readers’letterstoKommunistonthePartyProgramme;vol.13no.45,p.25–Khrushchev’sspeechonthePartyProgrammetotheXXIICongressoftheCPSU

TheFirstMan inSpace.SovietRadioandNewspaperReportson theFlightof theSpaceshipVostok ,compiled and translated by Joseph L. Ziegelbaum, Jet Propulsion Laboratory/Astronautics InformationTranslation22,1May1961(JPL,CalforniaInstituteofTechology)–Gagarin’sfirstflight

LifeMagazinevol.47no.6(10August1959),pp.28–35–picturesoftheAmericanexhibitionLiteraturnayaGazetano.27(1969),p.10–trialofdeputydirectorofpigfarmNewYorkTimesvol.108no.

37,072(25July1959),pp.1–4–KhrushchevandNixon’s‘kitchendebate’attheAmericanexhibitionTimeMagazine,12February1965,‘BorrowingfromtheCapitalists’–Libermanandeconomicreform

Websites

Banknotes

http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Banknotes_of_the_Soviet_Union,_1961

Russiancarswww.autosoviet.com

Alexander[Aleksandr]Galichwww.galichclub.narod.ru/biog.htm

TheJewishWomen’sArchivehttp://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/berg-raissa-lvovna

Sovietliteraturewww.sovlit.com

MichaelSwanwick’sbloghttp://floggingbabel.blogspot.com/2008/02/khrushchev-isnt-he-russian-novelist.html[sic]

UnrealisedMoscowhttp://www.muar.ru/ve/2003/moscow/index_e.htm

Filmandtelevision

AdamCurtis,dir.,‘TheEngineers’Plot’(TVdocumentary),programme1ofPandora’sBox,BBCTV1992GeorgiiDaniela,dir.,YashagayupoMoskve(‘IWalkaroundMoscow’),1964MarlenKhutsiev,dir.,ZastavaIlicha/MneDvadtsat’Let(‘Ilich’sGate’/‘IAmTwenty’),1961released1965MarlenKhutsiev,dir.,IyulskiiDozhd’(‘JulyRain’),1967MikhailRomm,dir.,Devyat’dneiodnogogoda(‘NineDaysinOneYear’),1962

AbouttheAuthorFrancisSpufford, a formerSundayTimesYoungWriter of theYear (1997), hasedited two acclaimed literary anthologies and a collection of essays about thehistory of technology. His first book, I May Be Some Time, won the Writers’Guild Award for Best Non-Fiction Book of 1996, the Banff Mountain BookPrizeandaSomersetMaughamAward.Hissecond,TheChildThatBooksBuilt,gaveNeilGaiman’thepeculiarfeelingthattherewasnowabookIdidn’tneedtowrite’. His third, Backroom Boys, was called ’as nearly perfect as makes nodifference’by theDailyTelegraphandwas shortlisted for theAventisPrize. In2007 he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. He teacheswritingatGoldsmithsCollegeandlivesnearCambridge.