Priestess Itfut. Вадим Зеланд

to be a rectangular-shaped altar or plinth made of the same material as the floor. A head was growing up out of the plinth, bald and gray like the glamrocks.

      The head writhed with grimaces not making a sound. The glamrocks surrounded the altar, shoved Matilda inside the circle, fell to their knees and with raised hands began making invocations.

      “Glamo’c! Mana-glamo’c!”

      Without changing its expression from a grimace, the head spoke in a low bass tone.

      “Read gibberish. You must not read the letter. I am mana. I can. But you can’t.

      Mana-veda, mana-sana, mana-una, mana-mana.

      Mana-oma, ata-mana, mana-okha, mana-dana.”

      The glamrocks muttered the mantra obediently repeating the words the head spoke.

      “Mana-oga, makha-mana, mana-osha, mana-shana,” continued the glamorck (obviously, this was him). “Read gibberish.Then you will be full. Don’t do the things that aren’t allowed, otherwise there’ll be a crash!“

      The savages put their heads in their hands and groaned.

      “Aboo! It’s aboo!”

      “Who is mana here?” asked the head. “Who do you need to kiss around here?”

      “Glamo’c! Mana-glamo’c!” they responded and began rubbing their faces along the floor, mercilessly squashing their noses.

      “Praise me!” the glamorc shouted ominously, accompanying the words with horrible grimacing and sending out a monotonous murmur. “О-a-oo-khomm, о-a-oo-homm.”

      “О-a-oo-khomm!” the glamrocks repeated.

      They droned on for a while longer following the head’s lead but then gradually became quiet and turned their gaze to the maid inside the circle. Matilda stood completely at a loss not knowing what to do with herself. They clearly expected her to do something. It was time to take urgent action and as she correctly surmised, it had to be something extraordinary as her authority had diminished rapidly in the presence of the glamorc.

      She was also desperate for the toilet. Matilda could not understand what kind of head this was, whether it was alive, and if so, why it was growing out of the monolith. As she watched, it continued to mumble and grimace. Then Matilda spotted something mechanical about the head. It was periodically repeating the same movements over and over again in a cycle.

      She had nothing to lose. It was now or never. If she did not take the situation into her own hands this very second, she was finished. Without further hesitation, Matilda climbed up onto the altar, undid the zipper on her jumpsuit, crouched down and relieved herself right on top of the talking head.

      The glamrocks stared at her completely dumbfounded, a look of indescribable horror appearing on their faces, formerly devoid of any facial expression. They observed the entire spectacle without making a single sound. Having completed the sacrilege, the diva rose and calmly zipped herself back up again. In that moment, the head began sending out sparks, then it twitched and with a fading mumble stalled, completely paralyzed in a pitiful grimace.

      Matilda understood now. Standing on the plinth, she gave the savages a triumphant look. Their glamorc was defeated. After an initial pause, Matilda asked them the sacred question they had already heard before.

      “Who is mana here?”

      “Mana-tida! Mana-tida!” the glamrocks cried out. The sound of their voices faded and then again, they cried. “You are our new mana!”

      In this instant, the glamrocks fell to their knees wiping their faces across the floor as before. Matilda climbed down from the plinth and began to give orders.

      “Stop! Get up! Really, get up, I tell you!”

      The glamrocks rose to their feet and surrounded her still keeping a respectful distance. The diva was finally herself again and asked, “So, what are we going to do?”

      “…’ead gibb’ish! …’ead gibb’ish!” the gray ones shouted. The dead head did not seem to interest them anymore. They stared in awe at their new mana ready to follow any order she might give them.

      Matilda stopped and thought for a moment. She had just escaped a terrible fate, finding a way out of what she had assumed to be a hopeless situation. She had never experienced anything like this ever in her life before, and naturally, could never have imagined herself capable of coping with such a crisis. But events were developing so rapidly, she did not have time to be surprised or celebrate.

      As before, Matilda faced a multitude of unresolved questions: what was the head? What was this building, this town? Who built it all and why? What was this world in which she found herself? Whoever the architects were, it definitely was not the glamrocks. Judging from what she had seen, the head was an electrical mechanism that served as a means of shackling these primitive people. Now the head was broken but the source of energy that had fed it was clearly still active as the monolith continued to emit its green glow.

      The main thing was to work out what on earth Matilda was going to do next. If these people were primitive, there was no telling what they might come up with. That meant she had to occupy their minds with something resembling a ritual, otherwise they might become disobedient to her. Having considered the circumstances, clever Matilda (and she was undoubtedly very clever) decided to start by establishing some kind of bond with the gray ones.

      Letkajenkha

      “Listen, why don’t you learn to pronounce the letter?” asked Matilda.

      “We ain’t allowed!” the glamrocks answered. “A c’ash will happen if we say it!”

      “Well, I’m telling you that there won’t be a crash. I’m your new mana. I decide! Understand?”

      The glamrocks were shaken with indecision.

      “But we ain’t allowed! It’s aboo!”

      “Yes, you can! Repeat after me, ‘we are glamrocks’.”

      The glamrocks exchanged glances and whispered to each other for a while, not yet ready to take such a decisive step. Finally, one of them stepped forward and said,

      “We glam’o-o-ocks.”

      “We glam’o-o-ocks.” The others followed on, no longer swallowing the letter ‘r’ but trying to pronounce it, at first, however, with little success.

      “Repeat after me: crocodiles!”

      “C’okodiles! C’okodiles!”

      “Cheburashkas!”

      “Chebuaashkas! Chebuaashkas!

      “Brownie!”

      “B’ownie! B’ownie!” the glamrocks said, trying hard to get it right.

      “Go on, go on, you can do it! Ok, again: Leningrad rock-n-roll!”

      The glamrocks were enlivened by these words and tried even harder. It is unlikely that they understood what they were saying but they obviously liked the words. And then a miracle happened. They did it!

      “Leningrad! Leningrad!” they cried with enthusiasm. “Leningrad rock-n-roll!”

      “You see!” said Matilda pleased with herself. “Well done! Now, repeat after me,

      ’May the drizzling rain today fall from morrrning,

      but you and I are dancing again like yesterrrday.

      From Moscow to Leningrad, and returrrning to Moscow,

      The lines, rrrailings and bridges dance.’[2]”

      The glamrocks were clearly capable students. They easily repeated the unfamiliar words. But it didn’t matter to them that the words were unfamiliar. They just really enjoyed it because now they could say the letter too and there was no crash.

      “Aba! Aba!” they shouted in delight. “We are glamrocks! We read gibberish! And we read the letter!”

      The

2

Song by pop group ’Bravo’ – ’Leningrad Rock-n-Roll’