Red Square - Martin Cruz Smith [86]
“You’re still talking about dogs.”
“Wait. Then Pavlov expanded. He called that atavistic trait a ‘reflex of freedom.’ He said that this same reflex of freedom existed in human populations the same as in dogs, but to different degrees. In Western societies the reflex of freedom was pronounced. In Russian society, however, he said there was a dominant ‘reflex of obedience.’ This was not a moral judgment, only a scientific observation. And since the October Revolution and seventy years of communism, you can imagine how complete that reflex of obedience has become. So I’m simply saying that our expectations of any genuine democracy should be realistic.”
“Define realistic,” Irina said.
“Low.” He exuded the satisfaction of a man describing the death of a reprobate.
The engineer broke in from the booth. “Irina, we get feedback when the professor gets close to the microphone. I’m going to play the tape back. Take a break.”
Arkady expected to hear the conversation over again, but the engineer listened on his headset as sound continued to feed into the booth from the studio.
Irina opened a bag for a cigarette and the professor almost jumped the table to light it. As she shifted, her hair swayed, revealing the glint of an earring. The blue cashmere top was more elegant than Arkady would have thought she would wear in a radio station. When she thanked her guest with her eyes, he seemed content to squirm in them forever.
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Comparing Russians with dogs?” she asked.
The professor folded his arms, still wrapped in self-satisfaction. “No. Think about it logically. Those individuals who wouldn’t obey were all killed or left long ago.”
Arkady saw contempt in her eyes, like the dilation of a flame. Or perhaps he was mistaken, because she responded with more amiable small talk. “I know what you mean,” she said. “There’s a different type leaving Moscow now.”
“Precisely! The people who are coming today are the families who were left behind. They’re stragglers, not leaders. This is not a moral judgment, merely an analysis of characteristics.”
Irina said, “Not only families.”
“No, no. Former colleagues I haven’t seen for twenty years are popping up everywhere.”
“Friends.”
“Friends?” It was a category he hadn’t considered.
Smoke had collected at the light and turned it into a nimbus around Irina. It was her contrast that was arresting. A mask with full mouth and eyes, dark hair cut severely but gently touching her shoulders. She glowed like ice.
Irina said, “It can be embarrassing. They’re decent people and it’s so important to them to see you.”
The professor hunched forward, eager to commiserate. “You’re the only one they know.”
Irina said, “You don’t want to hurt them, but their expectations are fantasies.”
“They’ve lived in a state of unreality.”
“They’ve thought about you every day, but the fact is that too much time has gone by. You haven’t thought of them for years,” Irina said.
“You’ve lived a different life, in a different world.”
“They want to pick up where you left off,” Irina said.
“They’d smother you.”
“They mean well.”
“They’d take over your life.”
“And who knows anymore where you left off?” Irina said. “Whatever it was is dead.”
“You have to be friendly but stern.”
“It’s like seeing a ghost.”
“Threatening?”
“More pathetic than threatening,” Irina said. “You just have to wonder, after all this time, why do they come?”
“If they listen to you on the radio, I can just imagine the fantasies.”
“You don’t want to be cruel.”
“You’re not,” the professor assured her.
“It just seems … it seems to me that they actually would be happier if they stayed in Moscow with their dreams.”
“Irina?” the sound engineer said. “Let’s retape the last two minutes. Please remind the professor not to get close to the microphone.”
The professor blinked, trying to look into the booth. “Understood,” he said.
Irina twisted her cigarette into