My homeland died with a pained screech. It was at the end of a laborious, miserable process of decay that the tricolor flag replaced a crimson one, waving proudly over the Kremlin.
Those were the days of violence and unrest, a dark underside of our once proud society crawled out in all of its wickedness and descended upon our clean, orderly streets. Criminals, prostitutes, thieves, vagrants and beggars ruled the streets. My grandfather, upon observing all this chaos, decided that Moscow was not safe enough of a place for a young man to dwell, at least until the storm blew over.
My parents eagerly helped me pack my things for what would be a multiple week stay at my grandfather’s summer house in the countryside.
It was a smudged, smog enamored morning when I stepped outside of our Khrushchevka and walked towards my grandfather’s bright red Trabant. While slowly trudging towards the car I observed a silhouette of my grandfather leaning on the car and enjoying a cigarette. I recall thinking how shrunken he looked. Through the lenses of my childhood, he was always a short but stout jovial man, always ready to sit you down and read you a story from one of the many books he owned. Now, he looked… Less than that. A devout worker, it seemed that he crumbled away with our state.
He gave his life away to the tireless pursuit of science, being one of the leading managers of the Soviet space program up until his retirement a few years ago.
He embraced me as I inched closer. We exchanged some pleasantries as he put the cigarette out on the pavement and picked it up to deposit it in a plastic box he would always carry with him for this exact purpose when a trashcan was not at hand.
I had barely settled in my seat before he ignited the engine and reversed back onto the road.
“I’m also scared, Kostya.” He said, not turning his eyes off the road. He possessed an uncanny ability to read people, and if he could read space engineers, who were I to escape his watchful eye?
Not even trying to deflect his claim, I shot back, “So, what’s going to happen to… Us? To everything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does, actually, not even that cocksucker Boris.” He spat out.
“There is something you don’t know, grandfather?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I know it won’t be good in the slightest. My wallet is full of money… It was full of money. Now it’s just paper. I had to trade in my fishing gear for supplies.” He replied.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m worried, that’s all. I’m glad we will take our minds off this, at least for a little while.” I concluded.
We drove in silence for a few hours before my grandfather spoke again.
“Thirty years. Thirty years I worked there. These bastards wouldn’t let me in to see my own work.” He spat out all of a sudden.
“What? Where?” I asked, suddenly shifted away from my daydream.
“The archives. Some new men are guarding it. Not a familiar face in sight.”
“Why did you go to the archives?” I asked.
“Admittedly, my grandson, to do crime. I went there to steal something.” He admitted.
My grandfather, an upstanding, law abiding citizen decided to steal something? The mere thought of that jolted me awake. “What would that be?”, I inquired.
“The documentation detailing the launch, departure and return of the Gorky spacecraft.” He said.
I knew my grandfather’s stories inside and out, echoing through the vistas of my childhood. Semyorka Launch, Sputnik one, Sputnik two. Never had I heard of this.
“I don’t believe I am familiar with that.” I said.
“Of course you are not. Only a few old men, and a few more dead men are.” Grandfather replied. “I had decided to carry that black mark of my career to the grave. Now however, it might even become public knowledge.”
“Why does it matter now? The nation has more pressing problems than an exploded spacecraft.” I said
“I wish it exploded. To hell and back. Anything was better than its return.” He lowered his voice before continuing, “People must not learn what lurks above us”.
“I’m not sure I understand.” I mumbled. At the time, I was worried my grandfather was losing his mind.
“You will. We are close to the house. Let us speak of this when we arrive.” With that, our conversation died and we remained in silence until the end of the drive.
We arrived a short while later. A small summer home seemed dilapidated and worn out from the weather and the lack of upkeep. After taking our things inside, I cleaned out the fireplace from the ashes and lit a fire.
Grandfather settled himself in an armchair and placed an ashtray in his lap. About five cigarettes later, he continued his telling.
“The Gorky spacecraft had a mission of edging towards the moon and taking a few photographs of the surface. Two cosmonauts were required for the mission. Comrades Petrov and Ovsenko were chosen in the end. Good men and lifelong friends. A perfect fit for the task at hand. We decided that the launch date would be the twenty-first of august. The year was nineteen eighty-one.
The launch went through smoothly. I remember being very anxious beforehand and elated afterwards. I hoped that the past would predict the future and that we would have a successful mission ahead of us. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Everything continued exactly as planned. The spacecraft entered the moon’s orbit and photographs were taken. Except for a small breakdown in our communication channel, which lasted about 2 minutes, there were no other issues.
The spacecraft was due to land, not far from the launch site. Our designated recovery team moved out as I conversed with them. Even the landing went exactly as planned. All of us in the room rejoiced once our comrades were down on mother earth.
We sullied out into the hallway and into the meeting room to await the cosmonauts. About half an hour later, they arrived, both carrying a huge, victorious smile with them. These three days during which we barely slept were finally over.
The cosmonauts were met with cheers right through the doors. They responded in favor and took their seats next to me. I glanced over at Petrov. Though his wide smile was still plastered at his face, his eyes didn’t follow suit. Those weren’t the eyes of a victor. Those were the eyes of a man scared to death. Ovsenko, on the other hand, seemed to not share any concern with his friend.
Finally, after responding to an avalanche of questions, Petrov turned to his friend, placed his hand on Ovsenko’s shoulders and spoke: “Now, we should not dally here for too long. Imagine how happy your wife will be to see you, let alone little Polinka and Anastasia”
Ovsenko smiled and shot back, “ Of course, friend. She was inconsolable before I left. I cannot wait to hug all of them”.
Petrov’s eyes grew wide. He swiftly stood up and launched himself at an officer standing behind him. Quite frankly, I had no idea what he was doing. That is, I had no idea until I saw him unholster a pistol from the officer’s hip and point it at Ovsenko, shooting him point blank in the head.
We were too stunned to react. Petrov turned to us, placed a barrel to his head and spoke before departing. “As you know, comrades, Ovsenko has no wife, Ovsenko has no daughters. Ovsenko never returned.”
Did we believe him? Of course we didn’t, we were too stunned to even comprehend what just happened before our eyes.
Autopsy of Petrov was uneventful. Autopsy of Ovsenko revealed that he lacked blood. In place of blood, a thick, black liquid dripped from his body. His lungs were corroded and dysfunctional. He lacked a heart.” Grandfather concluded his story.
“Fuck. Not that I don’t believe you, but… That seems. I don’t know… I cannot describe it.” I somehow managed to reply.
“Well, not even my wife believed me at first. So, I can’t say I blame you. Sometimes, I don’t even believe myself”.
I turned towards the fire. I could hear my grandfather’s laborious breathing as I thought about what I was just told. Something… Was off. My grandmother.
“Grandpa?” I started.
“Yes, Kostya?” He said.
“As you said, your wife, that is, my grandmother didn’t believe you. But… Didn’t she die in childbirth? You know, when she gave birth to my father, like he always told me.”
“That she did, Kostya. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I got her mixed up there. I’m old. Memory fades, boy, everything does.” He concluded. “I’ll be going to sleep now, Goodnight, grandson.”