Monumental Propaganda by Vladímir Voinóvich Read Free Book Online Page B

single bird had dared to lay either foot or wing on the statue. There had been only one solitary occasion when a crow with a crust of bread had tried to land on the cap, but it had barely even touched the surface before it dropped its food, flew up with a wild cry and came crashing down like a stone onto the asphalt of the square. Since that time it was quite certain that not a single winged creature had even attempted to use the statue as a landing ground. And now here were these stupid birds! How had they realized that now it was possible to land here and defile the monument? They had already covered the top of the cap with white excrement, streaks of which were visible on the peak and on the left shoulder and the flap of the greatcoat.
    â€œShoo!” Aglaya called out in a weak voice. “Shoo, you cursed brutes!”
    But the cursed brutes responded to her call with absolute disdain. The fatter of the two, evidently the male, cocked his head to one side and squinted at Aglaya with one eye, then turned to the female and cooed something to her, and she gurgled something to him in reply. Aglaya had the feeling that they were simply laughing at her. She looked around to see if there was a stone near her feet, found a gray pebble the size of an egg and flung it. The stone hit the top of the left boot and fell in front of the pedestal, and as she followed its fall, Aglaya only now noticed a poor, miserable, solitary spray of yellow mimosa lying in the snow beside her geraniums. Her heart beat faster in joy. So she was not the only one in this town who remembered and honored the dear and beloved, the unique and irreplaceable.
    â€œYes,” she heard a thin, ingratiating little voice say behind her, “not everybody’s forgotten everything. People love iron, birdth love iron, but when the iron fallth, the birdth will fly away, but people can’t fly. They’re heavy, they haven’t got wingth and they’re heavy, they can’t fly, and iron will fall on iron.”
    Aglaya turned around. Shurochka the Idiot, dressed in a plush jacket wrapped around with sackcloth, was watching Aglaya with a crazy, mysterious glimmer in her eye.
    â€œNow what are you driveling about?” Aglaya cried indignantly. “What iron? Where is it going to fall?”
    â€œPeople can’t fly,” Shurochka repeated with conviction. “And iron fallth down from above.”
    â€œBuzz off!” said Aglaya, and stalked away with a rapid, unwavering stride.

10
    The children’s home was located in an old mansion fronted by six columns. It had once belonged to the marshal of the local nobility. Judging from the general decrepitude of the façade and the peeling paint of the columns, the building had not been repaired even once since those times. But it was one of the few valuable structures that had not been damaged in the war.
    After forcing her way through two heavy doors, Aglaya entered the front hall, and the first thing that caught her eye was the wall newspaper “Happy Childhood.” Sveta Zhurkina, a pupil from Class Seven B, was standing in front of the newspaper with her tongue sticking out in the general direction of her left ear and copying something into a notebook. Catching sight of Aglaya, she said hello, closed her notebook with an embarrassed gesture and left.
    The pupil’s behavior seemed suspicious to Aglaya. She walked over to the wall newspaper and froze as she looked at it. The verse text that Zhurkina had not actually finished copying out was in the third column, after a leading article devoted to the education of young people through labor.
    The poem, bearing no signature, was called “And We Believed in You So Much.” It contained reproaches addressed to a certain military commander (who was not named, but it was clear to everyone that Stalin was meant). It said the commander had led us from victory to victory, but at the same time abused our boundless trust by