A Million for Eleanor: A Contemporary Story on Love and Money by Danil Rudoy

are tiny, dull, crooked and blemished, while some are so bright, clean and iridescent they already resemble brilliants. Why diminish their cost by keeping all the blemished ones if you can get rid of those and let the remaining ones shine as much as they should?”
    “But who will remain, Richard?” Eleanor cried, almost indignantly.
    He stopped at once and looked at her.
    “Artists,” he said as if this word had to be his last. “Those who make the world beautiful. Do you know why I loved selling cocaine? Not only because it was making me rich. I knew that, among all the worthless scumbags who’d waste it on nonsense, there would be people who’d turn it into creativity. Poetry, prose, music, paintings, discoveries: life . I wanted cocaine to become art because the desire to create is the only thing that distinguishes us from animals.”
    “I had a different idea of what cocaine does to people,” Eleanor said.
    “Depends on who it gets into, though I agree it’s not the most creative drug. But let’s come back to our mountain. Let’s say that after the sifting we are left with only seventy million gems, but their glare is undiluted. It’s the people the world stands upon. They are honest and unselfish, and they know that power must benefit the common, not the individual. They don’t resort to violence, and they value artistic self-expression above anything else. Poverty and hunger are unknown to them because there are plenty of resources to satisfy their needs and they are prudent to maintain their population on the same level. Won’t you call their world perfect?”
    “Sure. But don’t you think those that got sifted out will do everything to prove you wrong and prevail simply because of their number?”
    “Who said there’d be democracy for them? It must be deserved, and humans don’t. Would you consider election results valid if you knew that ninety nine percent of the voters were thieves, rapists and murderers? A similar thing happens in our world where the electorate members care only for their pettiness. That’s why nothing will change. And it grieves me deeply to acknowledge my inability to make this world what I want it to be.”
    “Well, I’m sure ninety nine percent of people would have said “Thank God” here,” Eleanor said with a smile. “But I see another problem. Do you really think you would earn a place among the sifted diamonds yourself?”
    “This is my advantage.” He mirrored her smile. “You just don’t know how much I love maximizing profits. Not only I wouldn’t mind sacrificing my life for such a world, I would consider it the highest achievement of mine. Why should I regret not having consciousness if I have transformed reality from the commonplace into the ideal?”
    “You would have no consciousness to know that,” Eleanor reminded.
    “As long as it’s true, it’s fine with me.”
    They stood and looked at each other as if waiting for something, and the silence was disturbed only by the ticking clock. It seemed to him every second left a tiny scratch in his head before dissolving in the air, and, trying to distract himself, he looked at his watch.
    “It’s nine o’clock,” he said amusedly, as if talking to himself.
    “Call, then,” Eleanor said with relief.
    He fished his phone from the pocket and dialed the number.
    “We are ready,” he said into it, looking at Eleanor. Her face betrayed a slight concern, as if she was ready for something but still hoped to avoid it. “No, I’ve already taken one. Okay, I’ll take more. See you soon.” He hung up. “That’s it. The ladies shall depart shortly, and I suggest we do the same. Don’t forget the cup.”
    “Are you going to smash it?”
    “We’ll see,” he said, picking up the valises.
    “Wait a minute. I forgot my phone.”
    “Leave it. Tonight you’re mine, no one else’s.”
    Eleanor gave him a reproaching look.
    “You’re such an egoist, Richard! And you always have been.”
    “No, I