exact time and place of its descent. When Masha showed me a clipping from a newspaper with Kulik’s article “The Tungus Meteorite,” I immediately saw when it fell to earth: June 30, 1908. I suddenly remembered the unusual
thunder
that Mama had heard during my birth. I closed my eyes. And laughed unexpectedly.
“What is it?” asked Masha.
“I was born that very day. June 30, 1908,” I replied.
She was struck by this coincidence. And she promised to tell Kulik about it. But I forgot about the Tungus meteorite (after all, it had
already
fallen) and once again plunged into the dear world of the Universe.
I passed the winter term with two incompletes. But, miraculously, I wasn’t expelled; they just made me retake physics and logic during the summer terms. I vaguely followed what was happening not just in the university but in the country as well. Students were discussing Trotsky’s exile to Alma-Ata, the struggle in the Party leadership, the peasants’ sabotage of state grain procurements. I would pass them by or sit with a remote look. I felt
good
. I had a fulcrum — the planets and the stars. They were always with me. I didn’t think about the future at all. I aspired to nothing. What should one strive for when everything
was there already
? I pressed my forehead to the marble lion. And floated in Ganymede’s orbit, between Io and Callisto.
But reality soon reminded me of its existence.
In May, returning home from the university, I found Chekists there. They were searching of our closet. Auntie wasn’t there. It turned out that in the church where she served, they had conducted a confiscation of church valuables, during which Auntie grabbed a heavy baptismal cross from a Chekist and hit him over the head. She was arrested. I was taken to the GPU on Gorokhovaya Street and interrogated. But they let me go. I tried to find out what happened to Auntie, but only learned that she was imprisoned in Kresty and awaiting trial. A month passed. Auntie was sentenced to five years and sent to Solovki. I never saw her again.
And a few weeks after the trial I was dismissed from the university. There were more than enough reasons: a non-proletarian background, an anti-Soviet aunt, my poor progress. Nor was I a member of the Komsomol. The secretary of our department’s Komsomol had long ago christened me an “alien element.”
I took my dismissal calmly. I could attend Karlov’s lectures without a student card. And I managed to steal two books on astronomy from the library. But Masha was very upset. She went to the dean twice and to the Komsomol committee on my behalf, but without any results. We continued to meet at the lectures and to walk around the city.
Soon I realized that I had nothing to eat: Aunt Flora’s stores of barley and flax oil had dried up. I sold her sewing machine. Buying grain, crackers, lard, sunflower oil, carrots, and garlic, I ate my fill and hid the remainder in the chest of drawers. In the morning I set off for the university. But there I found something I had neglected to consider: the lecture course in astronomy was over. Exams were beginning. Disappointed, I headed home. News awaited me there as well: the building manager was sitting in my room. He told me that if I didn’t stop my anti-Soviet propaganda, the tenants would petition for my eviction. I listened to him silently. He left, slamming the door. I realized that, taking advantage of my helpless situation, the building manager simply wanted to take my room away from me. I picked up my two books on astronomy and went outside. It was a warm, sunny June day. I wandered aimlessly around the city and felt that it was
pushing me out
. There was no place left for me in it. And nothing tied me to it. I walked as far as Nevsky Prospect, turned, and ambled in the direction of St. Isaac’s. I wanted to put my hands on its columns. And press my face to the cold, smooth stone. I took a few steps and ran into Masha. We bumped into each other
thunder
that Mama had heard during my birth. I closed my eyes. And laughed unexpectedly.
“What is it?” asked Masha.
“I was born that very day. June 30, 1908,” I replied.
She was struck by this coincidence. And she promised to tell Kulik about it. But I forgot about the Tungus meteorite (after all, it had
already
fallen) and once again plunged into the dear world of the Universe.
I passed the winter term with two incompletes. But, miraculously, I wasn’t expelled; they just made me retake physics and logic during the summer terms. I vaguely followed what was happening not just in the university but in the country as well. Students were discussing Trotsky’s exile to Alma-Ata, the struggle in the Party leadership, the peasants’ sabotage of state grain procurements. I would pass them by or sit with a remote look. I felt
good
. I had a fulcrum — the planets and the stars. They were always with me. I didn’t think about the future at all. I aspired to nothing. What should one strive for when everything
was there already
? I pressed my forehead to the marble lion. And floated in Ganymede’s orbit, between Io and Callisto.
But reality soon reminded me of its existence.
In May, returning home from the university, I found Chekists there. They were searching of our closet. Auntie wasn’t there. It turned out that in the church where she served, they had conducted a confiscation of church valuables, during which Auntie grabbed a heavy baptismal cross from a Chekist and hit him over the head. She was arrested. I was taken to the GPU on Gorokhovaya Street and interrogated. But they let me go. I tried to find out what happened to Auntie, but only learned that she was imprisoned in Kresty and awaiting trial. A month passed. Auntie was sentenced to five years and sent to Solovki. I never saw her again.
And a few weeks after the trial I was dismissed from the university. There were more than enough reasons: a non-proletarian background, an anti-Soviet aunt, my poor progress. Nor was I a member of the Komsomol. The secretary of our department’s Komsomol had long ago christened me an “alien element.”
I took my dismissal calmly. I could attend Karlov’s lectures without a student card. And I managed to steal two books on astronomy from the library. But Masha was very upset. She went to the dean twice and to the Komsomol committee on my behalf, but without any results. We continued to meet at the lectures and to walk around the city.
Soon I realized that I had nothing to eat: Aunt Flora’s stores of barley and flax oil had dried up. I sold her sewing machine. Buying grain, crackers, lard, sunflower oil, carrots, and garlic, I ate my fill and hid the remainder in the chest of drawers. In the morning I set off for the university. But there I found something I had neglected to consider: the lecture course in astronomy was over. Exams were beginning. Disappointed, I headed home. News awaited me there as well: the building manager was sitting in my room. He told me that if I didn’t stop my anti-Soviet propaganda, the tenants would petition for my eviction. I listened to him silently. He left, slamming the door. I realized that, taking advantage of my helpless situation, the building manager simply wanted to take my room away from me. I picked up my two books on astronomy and went outside. It was a warm, sunny June day. I wandered aimlessly around the city and felt that it was
pushing me out
. There was no place left for me in it. And nothing tied me to it. I walked as far as Nevsky Prospect, turned, and ambled in the direction of St. Isaac’s. I wanted to put my hands on its columns. And press my face to the cold, smooth stone. I took a few steps and ran into Masha. We bumped into each other
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