Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. The Final Circle of Paradise

“Poor fellow,” I said. “He must have remembered his family and become ashamed of himself.”

“He doesn’t have a family. Anyway, the heck with him! Have another drink?”

We had another drink. She lay down and put her hands over her head. Finally she spoke.

“Don’t let it get to you. Spit on it! Wine we have enough of, we’ll dance, go to the shivers. Tomorrow there’s a football game, we’ll bet on the Bulls.”

“I am not letting it get to me. If you want to bet on the Bulls, we’d bet on the Bulls.”

“Oh those Bulls! They are some boys! I could watch them forever, arms like iron, snuggling up against them is just like snuggling against a tree trunk, really!”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” yelled Ilina.

A man entered and stopped at once. He was tall and bony, of middle age, with a brush mustache and light protruding eyes.

“I beg your pardon, I was looking for Rimeyer,” he said.

“Everyone here wants to see Rimeyer,” said Ilina. “Have a chair and we’ll all wait together.”

The stranger bowed his head and sat down by the table, crossing his legs.

Apparently he had been here before. He did not look around, but stared at the wall directly in front of him. However, perhaps he just was not a curious type. In any case, it was clear that neither I nor Ilina was of any interest to him. This seemed unnatural to me, since I felt that such a pair as myself and Ilina should arouse interest in any normal person. Ilina raised up on her elbow and scrutinized him in detail.

“I have seen you somewhere,” she said.

“Really?” said the stranger coldly.

“What’s your name?”

“Oscar. I am Rimeyer’s friend.”

“That’s fine,” said Ilina. She was obviously irritated by the stranger’s indifference, but she kept herself in check. “He’s also a friend of Rimeyer.” She stuck her finger at me. “You know each other?”

“No,” said. Oscar, continuing to look at the wall.

“My name is Ivan,” said I. “And this is Rimeyer’s friend, Ilina. We just drank to our fraternal friendship.”

Oscar glanced indifferently in Ilina’s direction and nodded his head politely. Ilina picked up the bottle without taking her eyes off him.

“There’s still a little left here,” she said. “Would you like a drink, Oscar?”

“No, thank you,” he said, coldly.

“To fraternal friendship!” said Ilina. “No? You don’t want to? Too bad!”

She splashed some wine in my glass, poured the rest in hers, and downed it at once.

“Never in my life would I have thought that Rimeyer could have friends who refuse a drink. Still, I have seen you somewhere before.”

Oscar shrugged his shoulders.

“I doubt it,” he said.

Ilina was visibly becoming enraged.

“Some sort of a fink,” she said to me loudly. “Say there, Oscar, you wouldn’t be an Intel?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” said Ilina. “You’re the one who had a set-to with that baldy Leiz at the Weasel, broke a mirror, and had your face slapped by Mody.”

The stone visage of Oscar grew a shade pinker.

“I assure you,” he said courteously, “I am not an Intel and have never in my life been in the Weasel.”

“Are you saying that I’m a liar?” said Ilina

At this point I took the bottle off the table and put it under my armchair, just in case.

“I am a visitor,” said Oscar. “A tourist.”

“When did you arrive?” I said to discharge the tension.

“Very recently,” replied Oscar. He continued to gaze at the wall. Obviously here was a man with iron discipline.

“Oh, oh!” said Ilina suddenly. “Now I remember! I got it all mixed up.”

She burst out laughing, “Of course you’re no Intel! You were at our office the day before last. You’re the salesman who offered our manager some junk like… ‘Dugong’ or ‘Dupont…”

“Devon,” I prompted. “There is a repellent called Devon.”

Oscar smiled for the first time.

“You are quite right, of course,” he said. “But I am not a salesman. I was only doing a favor for a relative.”

“That’s different,” said Ilina and jumped up. “You should have said so. Ivan, we all need to drink to a pledge of friendship. I’ll call… no, I’ll go get it myself. You two can have a talk, I’ll be right back.”

She ran out of the room, banging the door.

“A fun girl,” said I.

“Yes, extremely. You live here?”

“No, I’m a traveler, too…. What a strange idea your relative had!”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Who needs Devon in a resort town?”

Oscar shrugged.

“It’s hard for me to judge; I’m no chemist. But you will agree that it’s hard for us to comprehend the actions of our fellow men, much less their fancies…. So Devon turns out to be – What did you call it, a res…?”

“Repellent,” I said.

“That would be for mosquitoes?”

“Not so much for as against.”

“I can see you are quite well up on it,” said Oscar.

“I had occasion to use it.”

“Well, well.”

What the devil, thought I. What is he getting at? He was no longer staring at the wall He was looking me straight in the eyes and smiling. But if he was going to say something, it was already said.

He got up.

“I don’t think I’ll wait any longer,” he pronounced. “It looks like I’ll have to drink another pledge. But I didn’t come here to drink, I came here to get well. Please tell Rimeyer that I will call him again tonight. You won’t forget?”

“No,” I said, “I won’t forget. If I tell him that Oscar was in to see him, he will know whom I am talking about?”

“Yes, of course. It’s my real name.”

He bowed, and walked out at a deliberate pace, ramrod-straight and somehow unnatural-looking. I dipped my hand in the ashtray, found a butt without lipstick, and inhaled several times. I didn’t like the taste and put out the stub. I didn’t like Oscar, either. Nor Ilina. And especially Rimeyer — I didn’t like him at all. I pawed through the bottles, but they were all empty.

Chapter FOUR

In the end I didn’t wait long enough to see Rimeyer. Ilina never came back. Finally I got tired of sitting in the smoky, stale atmosphere of the room and went down to the lobby. I intended to have dinner and stopped to look around for a restaurant. A porter immediately materialized at my side.

“At your service,” he murmured discreetly. “An auto? Bar? Restaurant? Salon?”

“What kind of salon?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“A hair-styling salon.” He looked at my hairdo with delicate concern. “Master Gaoway is receiving today. I recommend him most strenuously.”

I recollected that Ilina had called me a disheveled perch and said, “Well, all right.”

“Please follow me,” said the porter.

Crossing the lobby, he opened a wide low door and said into the spacious interior, “Excuse me, Master, you have a client.”

“Come in,” replied a quiet voice.

I entered. The salon was light and airy and smelled pleasantly. Everything in it shone — the chrome, the mirrors, the antique parquet floor. Shiny half-domes hung from the ceiling on glistening rods. In the center stood a huge white barber chair. The Master was advancing to meet me. He had penetrating immobile eyes, a hooked nose, and a gray Van Dyke. More than anything else he reminded me of a mature, experienced surgeon. I greeted him with some timidity, He nodded and, surveying me from head to foot, began to circle around me. I began to feel uncomfortable.

“I would like you to bring me up to the current fashion,” said I, trying not to let him out of my field of view.

But he restrained me gently by my sleeve and. stood breathing softly behind my back for a few seconds. “No doubt! No doubt at all”, he murmured, then touched me lightly on my shoulder. “Please,” he said sternly, “take a few steps forward — five or six — then turn abruptly to face me.”

I obeyed. He regarded me pensively, pulling on his beard. I thought he was hesitating.

“On the other hand,” he said, “sit down.”

“Where?” I said.

“In the chair, in the chair.”

I lowered myself into its softness and watched him approach me slowly. His intelligent face was suddenly suffused with a look of profound chagrin.

“But how is such a thing possible?” he said. “It’s absolutely awful.”

I couldn’t find anything to say.

“Gross disharmony,” he muttered. “Repulsive… repulsive.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.

“I don’t understand why you came to me,” he said, “since you obviously don’t place any value at all on your appearance.”

“I am beginning to, from this day on,” I said.

He waved his hand.

“Never mind… I will work on you, but…” He shook his head, turned impulsively, and went to a high table covered with shiny devices. The back of the chair depressed smoothly, and I found myself in a half-reclining position. A big hemisphere descended toward me from above, radiating warmth, while hundreds of tiny needles seemed to sink into the nape of my neck, eliciting a strange combination of simultaneous pain and pleasure.

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