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The Great Leader's recent death had not changed day-to-day life much, if at all. There were still lines to stand in and small bribes to be paid to be assured of life's necessities, and everyone still spoke guardedly and then only after glancing around to see who might be within earshot.
If life was difficult in general, for travelers it was difficult in particular. Petrov had been on the road for three days, and had lost track of the number of times he'd been required to produce his papers, not to mention how, on the afternoon of the first day, some young snot with a badge had made him open his small suitcase for inspection, right there on the platform of the railroad station!
It was on the train that, as he sat with his head down and eyes closed, he had overheard a man seated behind him tell his neighbor of a novel way to get fellow guests to give one a wide berth upon entering the typical "communal" accommodations offered to travelers at hotels.
“You see, my friend,” said the voice, “there is a natural pecking order in such places, almost like in prison. The man most recent to arrive starts at the bottom, if he is of ordinary appearance, and unless something happens to change that, this means he will sleep in the least desirable spot and maybe even have to give up a few personal possessions just to be left in peace.”
“So it occurred to me, you see, this one time, after having finished filling out the papers at the registration desk, to stop by the hotel's kitchen and ask the person on duty there to bring some tea to me in my room in a few minutes, for which service I pay a little extra. Then I go up to the room and, upon first entering it and while those already in residence are starting to size me up, I look neither to the left nor to the right but march up to the best cot in the room, put my belongings on it, and then step over to some prominent item—a light fixture or a mirror on the wall—and say something like 'Would you be good enough to bring me some tea in a few minutes? I am in need of refreshment.'”
“As you may imagine, this throws the other room occupants into a little panic, until it occurs to them to wonder 'Hey, this old coot is just pulling our leg!' By that time, however, a knock is heard at the door as my tea is delivered, and the reaction in the room is often a sight to see, let me tell you! I then drink my tea in peace, and thereafter, everyone leaves me and my belongings quite alone.”
That night, still two days travel from his destination, Petrov unconsciously lit up with a broad smile while standing in line at the hotel registration desk, eager to try out this newly learned stratagem to mislead other occupants into thinking he had friends in the secret police who, as everyone knew, had ears everywhere. Alas, this untoward public display drew the attention of a uniform standing just inside the door, who approached, gave a little mechanical salute with his baton and took Petrov's papers from his hand as he was standing in line.
“You seem altogether very happy, comrade... Petrov,” said the policeman, reading the name from the identity document. “We are all in need of having our spirits lifted in the aftermath of The Great Leader's passing, so if you please, tell me what it was that brought a smile to your face?”
“Well, comrade policeman," said Petrov, thinking quickly, "I was just recalling how, just as I was leaving on this trip, my baby daughter pronounced her first sentence.”
“And what did she say?” asked the policeman, with a pleasant voice but very unpleasant eyes.
“She said, 'Oh, how tasty!', comrade. It was her meal time.”
After a moment, the papers were returned. “May your daughter grow into a citizen worthy of our great homeland!” The policeman turned on his heel and left.
After registering, Petrov gathered his suitcase and key and went by the kitchen. The boy on duty was talking with some men, so he stood at the door until the transaction was complete and the men had left. He then explained what he wanted, paid for the tea and the "extra" service and went up to the room.
His lodgings turned out to be a rather long room that stank of alcohol and urine and sweat. It was dark, because only one of the three light fixtures—the one nearest the sink on the back wall—had a working bulb. There were four other men in the room, and they all stared at him when he entered.
Without looking too closely at them, Petrov walked over to the most comfortable-looking cot, which had a rucksack on it, moved the rucksack to the floor, put his suitcase on the blanket, and then walked over to the mirror over the sink at the back wall of the room.
“Would you please be so kind to bring me some tea?” said Petrov, to the mirror. “It's been a long day, and some tea would really hit the spot.” As he turned back to face the room, he could not help but glance at the faces of the other men, to see their reaction.
They were all staring at him, but not in the way he expected. There was no apprehension, only contempt thinkly masked by smiles.
A moment later, a powerfully built, bearded man got up from a chair next to the cot where Petrov's suitcase lay, picked the rucksack up off the floor, replaced it on the bed, picked up Petrov's suitcase, and walked up to and past Petrov, who turned to keep his eyes on the man. The man stopped by the mirror, leaned in close to it and said, “And while you're at it, make sure you bring the rest of us some beer and dried salt fish! And hurry!” The man dropped Petrov's suitcase on the cot nearest the sink, where the stench of urine was strongest. He then leaned against the wall next to the mirror, and crossed his arms, as if waiting for a bus. Petrov looked about, only to find he was the center of attention.
Nobody moved for what seemed to Petrov like an hour. And when a knock came on the door, it was Petrov who about jumped out of his skin. The man closest to the door opened it, letting in the kitchen boy, who was wheeling a cart in front of him. “Right,” said the boy, unloading the cart, “tea, beer, and salt fish, just as you ordered.” He closed the door behind him as he left.
Utterly confused, Petrov turned back to his suitcase and saw it was lying open on the bed. The bearded man was extracting a cigarette from the pack Petrov had kept there. “Thanks. I don't mind if I do,” said the man. “Hey! Anyone else want one?” And the rest of the pack sailed past Petrov into the hands of the others.
Shoving Petrov out of the way, the bearded man rejoined the other three men, and they proceeded to open bottles and tear apart the fish. They smoked and told stories as they drank and ate, laughing and nudging each other as they glanced in Petrov's direction from time to time. Petrov thought he heard someone say something about wishes and horses, but stayed out of the conversation, working up only the courage to pour himself a glass of the tea and go back to his cot near the sink. When the time came to go to sleep, it turned out there was no way to turn off the light over his head. He slept fitfully.
Petrov got up early the next morning, dressed, went down to the front desk, and returned his key. By the hotel door, as he paused outside for a moment before heading out, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the front desk clerk standing there, offering him a cigarette, which he accepted. It was a foreign-made cigarette.
How...?
“It's really too bad your little escapade backfired on you last night,” said the clerk, after lighting both his and Petrov's cigarette. “But that big bearded one, he's a fast thinker, and figured two could play at your game. You see, a couple of the others had just been in the kitchen before you to order some beer and fish up to the room.”
Petrov had a little trouble comprehending what had been said, as all he could do was wonder ”Who is this 'clerk' who smokes foreign cigarettes? And how does he know all this?”
“I will say this, however,” added the clerk. “You were much more polite when you spoke into our microphone behind the mirror than was the bearded one. We appreciate that.”
And with that, the clerk took one more deep drag, and then pinched his cigarette out and went back into the hotel. After a moment, Petrov hesitantly picked up his suitcase and moved off, down the street, walking ever more quickly toward the station.
If life was difficult in general, for travelers it was difficult in particular. Petrov had been on the road for three days, and had lost track of the number of times he'd been required to produce his papers, not to mention how, on the afternoon of the first day, some young snot with a badge had made him open his small suitcase for inspection, right there on the platform of the railroad station!
It was on the train that, as he sat with his head down and eyes closed, he had overheard a man seated behind him tell his neighbor of a novel way to get fellow guests to give one a wide berth upon entering the typical "communal" accommodations offered to travelers at hotels.
“You see, my friend,” said the voice, “there is a natural pecking order in such places, almost like in prison. The man most recent to arrive starts at the bottom, if he is of ordinary appearance, and unless something happens to change that, this means he will sleep in the least desirable spot and maybe even have to give up a few personal possessions just to be left in peace.”
“So it occurred to me, you see, this one time, after having finished filling out the papers at the registration desk, to stop by the hotel's kitchen and ask the person on duty there to bring some tea to me in my room in a few minutes, for which service I pay a little extra. Then I go up to the room and, upon first entering it and while those already in residence are starting to size me up, I look neither to the left nor to the right but march up to the best cot in the room, put my belongings on it, and then step over to some prominent item—a light fixture or a mirror on the wall—and say something like 'Would you be good enough to bring me some tea in a few minutes? I am in need of refreshment.'”
“As you may imagine, this throws the other room occupants into a little panic, until it occurs to them to wonder 'Hey, this old coot is just pulling our leg!' By that time, however, a knock is heard at the door as my tea is delivered, and the reaction in the room is often a sight to see, let me tell you! I then drink my tea in peace, and thereafter, everyone leaves me and my belongings quite alone.”
That night, still two days travel from his destination, Petrov unconsciously lit up with a broad smile while standing in line at the hotel registration desk, eager to try out this newly learned stratagem to mislead other occupants into thinking he had friends in the secret police who, as everyone knew, had ears everywhere. Alas, this untoward public display drew the attention of a uniform standing just inside the door, who approached, gave a little mechanical salute with his baton and took Petrov's papers from his hand as he was standing in line.
“You seem altogether very happy, comrade... Petrov,” said the policeman, reading the name from the identity document. “We are all in need of having our spirits lifted in the aftermath of The Great Leader's passing, so if you please, tell me what it was that brought a smile to your face?”
“Well, comrade policeman," said Petrov, thinking quickly, "I was just recalling how, just as I was leaving on this trip, my baby daughter pronounced her first sentence.”
“And what did she say?” asked the policeman, with a pleasant voice but very unpleasant eyes.
“She said, 'Oh, how tasty!', comrade. It was her meal time.”
After a moment, the papers were returned. “May your daughter grow into a citizen worthy of our great homeland!” The policeman turned on his heel and left.
After registering, Petrov gathered his suitcase and key and went by the kitchen. The boy on duty was talking with some men, so he stood at the door until the transaction was complete and the men had left. He then explained what he wanted, paid for the tea and the "extra" service and went up to the room.
His lodgings turned out to be a rather long room that stank of alcohol and urine and sweat. It was dark, because only one of the three light fixtures—the one nearest the sink on the back wall—had a working bulb. There were four other men in the room, and they all stared at him when he entered.
Without looking too closely at them, Petrov walked over to the most comfortable-looking cot, which had a rucksack on it, moved the rucksack to the floor, put his suitcase on the blanket, and then walked over to the mirror over the sink at the back wall of the room.
“Would you please be so kind to bring me some tea?” said Petrov, to the mirror. “It's been a long day, and some tea would really hit the spot.” As he turned back to face the room, he could not help but glance at the faces of the other men, to see their reaction.
They were all staring at him, but not in the way he expected. There was no apprehension, only contempt thinkly masked by smiles.
A moment later, a powerfully built, bearded man got up from a chair next to the cot where Petrov's suitcase lay, picked the rucksack up off the floor, replaced it on the bed, picked up Petrov's suitcase, and walked up to and past Petrov, who turned to keep his eyes on the man. The man stopped by the mirror, leaned in close to it and said, “And while you're at it, make sure you bring the rest of us some beer and dried salt fish! And hurry!” The man dropped Petrov's suitcase on the cot nearest the sink, where the stench of urine was strongest. He then leaned against the wall next to the mirror, and crossed his arms, as if waiting for a bus. Petrov looked about, only to find he was the center of attention.
Nobody moved for what seemed to Petrov like an hour. And when a knock came on the door, it was Petrov who about jumped out of his skin. The man closest to the door opened it, letting in the kitchen boy, who was wheeling a cart in front of him. “Right,” said the boy, unloading the cart, “tea, beer, and salt fish, just as you ordered.” He closed the door behind him as he left.
Utterly confused, Petrov turned back to his suitcase and saw it was lying open on the bed. The bearded man was extracting a cigarette from the pack Petrov had kept there. “Thanks. I don't mind if I do,” said the man. “Hey! Anyone else want one?” And the rest of the pack sailed past Petrov into the hands of the others.
Shoving Petrov out of the way, the bearded man rejoined the other three men, and they proceeded to open bottles and tear apart the fish. They smoked and told stories as they drank and ate, laughing and nudging each other as they glanced in Petrov's direction from time to time. Petrov thought he heard someone say something about wishes and horses, but stayed out of the conversation, working up only the courage to pour himself a glass of the tea and go back to his cot near the sink. When the time came to go to sleep, it turned out there was no way to turn off the light over his head. He slept fitfully.
Petrov got up early the next morning, dressed, went down to the front desk, and returned his key. By the hotel door, as he paused outside for a moment before heading out, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the front desk clerk standing there, offering him a cigarette, which he accepted. It was a foreign-made cigarette.
How...?
“It's really too bad your little escapade backfired on you last night,” said the clerk, after lighting both his and Petrov's cigarette. “But that big bearded one, he's a fast thinker, and figured two could play at your game. You see, a couple of the others had just been in the kitchen before you to order some beer and fish up to the room.”
Petrov had a little trouble comprehending what had been said, as all he could do was wonder ”Who is this 'clerk' who smokes foreign cigarettes? And how does he know all this?”
“I will say this, however,” added the clerk. “You were much more polite when you spoke into our microphone behind the mirror than was the bearded one. We appreciate that.”
And with that, the clerk took one more deep drag, and then pinched his cigarette out and went back into the hotel. After a moment, Petrov hesitantly picked up his suitcase and moved off, down the street, walking ever more quickly toward the station.
