Suffiet Russia

Yuri Kardashnikov was reading through the usual intelligence reports, and he was troubled. Most of the reports were the usual thing. The West was so damned busy these days; it was hard to keep up. A few scientists at a research clinic were making great strides in holographic simulation technology; the agent recommended that they insert someone into the clinic to investigate further, with an eye towards possible extraction of the tech or recruitment of the scientists. Yuri made a note and pushed it into the file to be considered later.

Then he had reached the report that really troubled him. It was a presentation at an American lecture hall. A senator had attended with his aide Evelyn, whose real name was Yelena and who reported every day on his practices, some of which surprised and depressed Yuri as he read the reports behind his door. The things people got away with over there…then he considered what he himself could get away with, being who he was, and he shrugged. It was the same everywhere.

At any rate, Yelena’s report on the presentation that night was thorough and troubling, with phrases like could do astonishing things and rip through space and time. Those words caught and held Yuri Kardashnikov’s attention. As had been a footnote, tacked on at the end, an afterthought seemingly. Dr. le Fay and Dr. Gotlieb-Harris’s offices were searched following the lecture. No papers of immediate value located. One unrelated fragment of a transcription from a American song found, believed to be of the “blues” genre. Copying here for reference.

Kardashnikov didn’t understand. Why would the agent have believed the song of any importance or relevance to the scientific matter the two doctors had discussed? What was this craziness? “Don’t pray upon my grave, ‘cuz he’ll catch you like a rabbit, gonna rock you like a babe"

“Боже мой”, he grunted in frustration. He rose from his desk, balled up the paper, and prepared to toss it into his waste bin. Obviously the whole thing was nonsense, or perhaps Yelena had defected on him. Either way, it was going to mean more work for somebody ferreting it all out, and then he would have to explain everything over again to his superiors.

He paused. Was someone whispering? Singing? Out there in the cold grey corridors? Impossible. No one sang here. No one dared.

They were, however. He stepped to his door. At the far end of the corridor outside, there was someone in the shadows. Very short, long-armed. Impossible to tell who. They were whispering something.

No begging, Yuri…

He will not bargain, Yuri…

“Go away!” Kardashnikov shouted, then slammed his door. It was nonsense, that was all. That stupid report. If Yelena hadn’t defected he would have her shot for sending back something as stupid as that.

There was a knock. Then a voice. When you feel those hands come calling…

“I said, go away!” For the first time since the war, he drew his gun and fired.

The figure came right through the door. It ignored his bullets. Disdained them, even. He’s a godless end…

“What… what are…” Yuri Kardashnikov gasped.

It descended upon him and he screamed for the last time.

The suff…

In America, at that moment, Yelena thought she heard an echo in the air. “In Soviet Russia,” she said, just to herself, “rabbit catches you.”

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