Birds and a Stone. Anastasia Novykh

other two hypes were observing this brawl with absolute indifference, while the beggar noted such active attention of the staff to a single person, quietly squatted and started to grabble rapidly towards the exit. However, at a very wrong time for him, senior lieutenant Chmil appeared at the door, hurrying to help his colleagues. His impressive figure which nearly occupied the entire doorway made the beggar exclaim. Without slowing down, the poor man turned around harshly and made his way back with the same nimbleness and speed and in the same pose. Once he reached his prison cell, he quickly took the vertical position and occupied his previous place beside the two drug hypes. Casting a sidelong look at Chmil, the beggar pulled a suffering face, and then continued to watch the brawl in the duty room. Rebrov’s assistant got amused with such a clownery, but he had no time to deal with the beggar at that moment. Having passed the unlucky escaper, the lieutenant only shook his fist at him, checking smile with difficulty. The beggar ceremoniously nodded with understanding. At that, the incident was closed, imperceptibly for those around.

      Somehow, the furious hype was finally suppressed. He went limp as suddenly as he had gotten into rage before. All prisoners had got locked up in “the monkey house”. The men who had participated in the brawl, were now pouring out their emotions.

      “Damn it, what a nervous day!” captain Onishchenko complained.

      “Captain, it’s never so bad that it couldn’t become worse,” Chmil giggled.

      “Curse that tongue of yours!” Captain responded rapidly. “We’ve been rushing about the whole day, as overworked hounds... People are going crazy. Each time they bring new surprises.”

      “Perhaps, the Moon has turned to a wrong side. Look through the window: it’s huge, round, it’s full indeed...”

      The men laughed.

      “Yeaa, it’s really full... Today, four out of ten calls have been idle. People get worried over a single knock.”

      “Well, there was an announcement on TV... So, they keep vigil.”

      “It would be good if witnesses were as watchful! Yet, the lady’s been killed inside her own shop, while nobody saw nothing and heard nothing! We have a great deal of matters even without this... Just imagine, the damn “guest performers” have showed up again...”

      “That would be the last straw!” Rebrov uttered with bitterness.

      “Agree,” Captain nodded. “What a life! Everyday huge piles for a paltry monthly salary!”

      “Captain, try being optimistic!” the senior lieutenant said.

      “You’re too young to know what life is. An optimist is a former pessimist who has full pockets of money, whose stomach works excellently, and whose wife has left the city.”

      The men burst out laughing again.

      “Chmil is queerly merry today. Do you agree, Rebrov?” Onishchenko asked teasingly.

      “He’s like this after he seeing that pal of him,” Major answered with a mysterious smile.

      “With a pal?!” Onishchenko’s eyes flashed with zest. “I’ve seen his “pal” on the porch! Well-shaped pal, I’d say… What a bosom, what a “moon”!”

      “All right, all right!” Chmil said with a contented smile. “What if it’s love at first sight?”

      “Aha! Which one this time?” Onishchenko asked with a jeer. “You should marry, ‘cause love at first sight is becoming your chronic conjunctivitis.”

      “What?” the senior lieutenant asked to repeat.

      “Eye disease.”

      “You’re jealous, Captain, aren’t you? By the way, all people are born free and equal,” and, after making a pause, Chmil cunningly added, “But some get married later on.”

      “Well, finished as usual!” captain Onishchenko gave up, and the duty room got filled with laughter again.

* * *

      The workday was almost over. It was indeed very intensive and hard both for the city inhabitants and local militia. The evil generated by the new gang’s activity was spreading by leaps and bounds. It was sowing out more and more fear in people, and attracted all the worst like a magnet. Besides the “the guest performers”, a group of drunk teens appeared in the city streets, trying to demonstrate their collective force to passers-by. Household crimes became more frequent. It seemed like people were losing their genuine cast of mind, surrendering to the negative side of their personality.

      The district department became noticeably deserted around midnight. Only the operations group and officers on duty remained. People felt sleepy over the accumulated tiredness. Lost in thought, the senior lieutenant Chmil walked up and down the department and stopped in front of “the monkey house”. Quiet puffing of sleeping “residents” was heard from the inside. Satisfied with this serene atmosphere, the senior lieutenant sat into an old, worn armchair which the department had inherited from the former district socialist club. He put his legs on a single safe chair. Having settled in such way, he took some out-of-date newspaper and made a concentrated face in attempt to probe into the printed information. In half an hour, however, the newspaper was already peacefully heaving of senior lieutenant’s muted snore.

      Sitting at the side desk, sergeant Kostushkin attempted to overcome sleep, but his young organism came into its own. His eyelids became leaden-heavy, and then he fell into a youthful slumber, carelessly propping up his cheek with his hand. Only when the telephone started ringing, both assistants started and woke up. But, once they saw there were no outside bosses around, they fell into sweet dreams again.

      Only Rebrov sat it his duty post, not having a wink of sleep. That pain would not set his body free. Analgin deadened it for a while, but didn’t relieve for keeps. Major had never had such prolonged bouts before. He felt as if his body was belonging to someone else, and had to apply sizeable force to make it move. Needlessly, he would not want to budge at all. His consciousness instead... It rolled feverishly, conducting an internal analysis of the life spent. And all this was happening at peculiar consciousness estrangement from the body, through a misty shroud of the dull ache.

      Rebrov still couldn’t calm down after the last telephone call. “What’s happening to humans? What’s happening to the world? Seems like everyone has got wild, embittered... And this old hag... She might have fallen into insomnia. We have such a strain here without her, while she took it into her head to lecture me on the phone at midnight. “Militia is useless nowadays!”... Anyone knows how to criticize! But let’s take them here to work as “a human waste cleaner” for a while! Respectable citizens do not see a hundredth of the filth that militiamen have to deal with... They’d better pay more attention to their children’s and grandchildren’s upbringing rather than throwing curses around. Most teens are left on their own! They kick up a row, they hype from sheer boredom and idleness, taking their “advanced” pals as an example. While a little time needed for a mind to be cracked... A youngster starts with a small dose so that his pals would not call him a looser, and then he takes no note of how he’s becoming totally dependent on that damned stuff. A hype can sell his mother for a dose! Yet, when we arrest teens, their parents commonly say: “My son wouldn’t do this”, “You’ve arrested him for no reason at all”. And, looking like a fool, you start vindicating yourself, you try to reveal the real facts and to show them their near cheerless future. What do I need this all hell for, I ask? Life is far from being a honey anyway...

      Say, militia bosses castigate the operations for the low crime unraveling statistics. But how can the crimes be effectively unraveled, if militia works only at its enthusiasm? The Ministry of Internal Affairs budget is cut down by the Parliament almost each year. The city patrol service is totally messed-up, while it used to be the one to mainly help unraveling most of street crimes, hot on the heels. Again, experienced employees, being disillusioned about everything and everybody, further tend to leave the law-enforcement service due to money dearth. What has it all resulted in? Nothing good. The professional core of many service bodies have actually been destroyed; the positions previously occupied by high-rank specialists are now taken by the raw youth, half of those not even possessing college education. Besides,