today? My name is Jesse Austin. Don’t mind us, we’re just here to look around. Please goabout your business as usual and I promise we won’t get in the way!
The manager turned to Leo, eyes wide and mouth open:
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Should I close the store for you?
Austin replied, taking control of the situation:
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Those people are waiting in the snow! Let everyone in. Don’t do anything different!
Cautiously, the shoppers trundled in, perplexed at the circumstances, forming a second line at the counter. Leo explained:
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In the other store you saw customers browsing. Here things are more disciplined. The customers tell the staff what they want. They pay and then collect the items.
Austin clapped his hands, pleased:
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I get it. It’s all about necessity! They shop for what they need, nothing more.
Leo mumbled his agreement:
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Exactly.
Reading the transcripts of Jesse Austin’s speeches and American interviews last night, Leo had encountered several heated exchanges where Austin had been accused of believing a falsified vision of Russia manufactured for gullible westerners. The accusations had stung. He’d refuted the claims. But Leo was left with no doubt that Austin would be sensitive to his tour being overly managed. For this reason Leo and Grigori had spent the evening preparing several smaller stores close to the route of their itinerary. Leo had preempted the possibility of an impromptu visit. They’d alerted the managers, and where possible they’d directed additional supplies to fill their shelves. He calculated that a polished version of reality might be more effective than an artificial model of perfection. Without the time to personally check every store, their fate was in the hands of the store managers. Glancing from side to side, checking on the shelves, the state of the floors,Leo was relieved to see that the store was clean and reasonably well stocked. There was fresh bread and cartons of eggs. The customers were real, not hand-selected, and their good mood was entirely genuine as they marveled at their luck, shopping on a day when there was so much choice.
The old woman at the front of the line gleefully collected a carton of eggs. With the excitement of the purchase and the confusion of having MGB agents watch her, she lost concentration. The carton slipped from her grip, falling to the floor. Austin was the first to step up to help. Leo caught the store manager’s glance—there was fear in his eyes. Something was wrong. Reacting quickly, Leo ran past Austin, picking up the carton and checking inside. Instead of eggs, there were six small rocks.
Leo shut the carton, handing it back to the manager:
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They broke.
The manager’s hands were shaking as he took the carton. Austin called out:
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Hold on!
The manager stood, trembling. Leo imagined the six small rocks shaking inside the carton. Austin gestured at the elderly woman:
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She’s going to get another carton, isn’t she? Without charge?
Leo put his hand on the woman’s shoulder, imagining her disappointment when she arrived home to find herself the proud owner of six small rocks:
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Of course.
Most of the officials were outside, pressed up against the window, too scared to move, trying to keep some distance between themselves and what they presumed was the ongoing debacle. Gradually they plucked up the courage to step into the store, wearing brittle smiles. Austin was pleased:
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This is great, really great.
The shop visit had been a success. The official who’d suggested tea before did so again:
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How about tea?
Austin shook his head:
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What is it with you and tea?
The officials laughed. Austin declared:
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I’m eager to see more. What’s next?
Next on the itinerary was a visit to Moscow University. Before an official could even begin to sell the idea, Austin had turned to Leo:
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Your girl is a teacher, you said?
Confused, Leo hesitantly replied:
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My girl?
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Your girlfriend? The one we were talking