Chapter 12 Chapter 6 Maximov (3)

While he was rummaging through the files, he tapped his fingernails on the table annoyingly. "The situation is queer, quite queer," he repeated in a murmur. "There's a story in it," he announced abruptly. "How do we define a story, a work of fiction? Are you saying that a story is a personal thing?" "Private matters, absolutely private matters, are completely private to the author before they are made public." Maximov glanced at him inquiringly, and then pushed the things he was reading across the table.It was a children's exercise book with pages printed with parallel lines.He immediately recognized the slanted lettering with its looping tails and bars.Orphan's word, he thought: I've got to learn to like it.He pressed his hand on the exercise book out of protection.

"Look," said his opponent softly. He tried to look at it, but he couldn't concentrate; the harder he tried, the more details he saw.Tears blurred his eyes; he pressed lightly with his sleeve to keep the tears from dripping down and obscuring the writing. "There is no one in the white snow," he read, trying to get rid of the cliché.It's about a guy in an open space, and cold weather.He shook his head and closed the exercise book. Maximov leaned over and gently pulled out the exercise book.He turned the pages and found what he was looking for.Push the book back again. "Look at this part," he said, "only a page or two. Our hero is a young man convicted of conspiracy and exiled to Siberia. The maid, a young country girl, hides him and feeds him. They are young, a romantic relationship develops between the two, and whatnot. One night, it is written that the rude and lecherous landowner tries to harass the Country girl. I suggest you read this section."

He shook his head again. Maximov took back the exercise book. "The young man couldn't take it anymore. He came out of hiding to intervene." He began to read aloud. "'Karamzin'—that's the landowner's name—' turning to him, and said in exasperation, "Who are you?what are you doing here At this moment he noticed the tattered gray prison uniform and broken leg shackles. "Aha, a fugitive!" "He shouted—"I'll come and deal with you right away!" ' He turned and staggered out of the room.' It used the word 'stagger', which I liked. The landowner was written as a pug-dog-faced, shaggy-eared, stubby-legged brat. Our The young protagonist, of course, was furious: old age and ugliness desecrated the maiden's beauty! He took an ax from the stove.' With all his might, and with a shudder, he struck the ax on the man's pale head. Kara Muzzin bent his knees, snorted like a big animal, and fell on the well-brushed kitchen floor with his arms spread out, his fingers twitched a few times, and then let go. Sergey'—then It's our protagonist's name——'Standing still, holding the bloody ax in his hand, not believing what he did. But Marfa'——that's the heroine's name—— 'With a poise he hadn't expected, grabs a wet rag and stuffs it under the dead man's head to keep the blood from spreading.' Wonderful realism, don't you think?

"The rest of the story is rough—I'm not going to read it. The author's inspiration may have dried up after that dirty Karamzin was wiped out. Sergei and Marfa dragged the body out and threw it into a mouthful of waste. Well. Then the two of them left 'with determination' into the night. The manuscript says 'with determination' and doesn't say if they intended to escape. But let me mention one detail. Sergey left no murder weapon behind. No , he took it with him. Why? asked Marfa. His answer was: 'Because it is the weapon of the Russian people, a means of our self-defense, an instrument of revenge.' The bloody ax, the revenge of the people— — the insinuation couldn't be more clear, doesn't it?"

He stared suspiciously at Maximov. "I couldn't believe my ears," he whispered. "Are you really going to take this as evidence against my son—it's just a story, a fantasy, something written in a room alone!" "Oh, my God, Fyodor Mikhailovich, you have misunderstood me!" Maximovitch leaned back in his chair and seemed to shake his head helplessly. "It's definitely not a matter of trouble with your stepson as you say. His case is closed in the most important respects. I'm reading you his fantasies (in your terms) just to show that he's accepted Nirvana. How deep is the influence of the Yevites, and God knows how many young people with uncertain personalities have been led astray by them, especially the young people in Petersburg here, many of whom are children of good families. It can be said that Necha Yevism is simply an epidemic. An epidemic, or maybe it's just a fad."

"It's not a fad. Russia has always had what you call Nechayevism, only under a different name. Nechayevism is as characteristic of Russia as banditry. But I'm not here to discuss Nechayevism. I The reason for coming is simple—retrieve my son's papers. Can you give them to me? If not, can I go?" "You can go, any time you want. You have been abroad and returned to Russia under a false name. I don't want to ask you what passport you used. But you are free to leave. If your creditors find you in Petersburg, they will of course take action. Freedom to take measures as they see fit. That is between you and them, not mine. I repeat: you can leave this office at any time. But I will not conspire with you to help you lie .”

"At present, for me, there is nothing less important than money. If I am involved in lawsuits due to old debts, I will have to admit it." "You are bereaved and depressed, which is why you have this attitude. I fully understand. But remember, you have a wife and children who depend on you. Even for their sake, you cannot give up on yourself. As for your request for the return of these documents , I have to say with deep regret, no, it cannot be handed over to you now. Your stepson is involved with the Nechayev elements, and these documents belong to the police. " "Okay. But before I leave, may I change my mind and say one last word on the Nechayev issue? I've at least met Nechayev himself, heard him talk, know him better than you— —Please correct me if I am wrong.”

Maximov raised his head questioningly. "Please go on." "Nechayev is not a matter for the police. At the end of the day, Nechayev is not a matter for any authority at all, at least not for secular authorities." "Go ahead." "It is possible for you to track down Sergey Nechayev and lock him up, but that does not mean that Nechayevism can be eliminated." "I agree. Totally agree. Nechayev is an ideology that is widespread in our country; Nechayev himself is only the embodiment of this ideology. Nechayevism cannot be eliminated unless times change. Therefore, Our aim should be lower and more realistic: to curb the spread of this idea and, where it does, prevent it from being translated into action."

"You still misunderstood me. Nechaevism is not thought. It despises thought, it is outside the realm of thought. It is a spirit, and Nechayev himself is not the embodiment of the spirit, but its host; or Rather, it's under its control." Maximov's expression was inscrutable.He explained further. "The first time I met Sergei Nechayev in Geneva, he struck me as an unlovable, gloomy, unremarkable intellectual, very ordinary young man. I don't think This first impression is wrong. In this unremarkable carrier, there is a spirit. This spirit is nothing special. It is dull, full of resentment and murderous. Why did it choose this young man as its host? I don't know. Maybe Because it thinks that it is more free to come and go in this young man. But it is because of the spirit in Nechayev that he has followers. People follow spirits, not people."

"What is the name of this spirit, Fyodor Mikhailovich?" He tried to imagine Sergei Nechayev, but all he could see was a bull's head: eyes glazed over, tongue hanging out, skull split open with a butcher's axe.Surrounded by a dense swarm of flies.He remembered a name and blurted it out: "Baal." "Interesting. Maybe a metaphor, not entirely clear, but worth remembering. Baal. Yet I have to ask myself, what's the practical point of talking about gods and spirit possession? Saying that ideas travel, as if ideas have arms and legs Yes, does it also have practical significance? How does this kind of talk help our work? Does it help Russia? You say that we should not lock up Nechayev because he is under the control of a demon (can we call it Is it a demon?——I think the word god sounds a bit fake). In that case, what should we do? After all, we are not a club for practicing enlightenment, we are a functional unit for investigation.”

There was a moment of silence. "I am by no means refusing to consider what you have said," Maximov went on. "Even before I met you, I knew you were a man of great talent and insight. These doll schemers are nothing compared to their predecessors. They think they are immortal. In that sense, It's like battling the devil. And there's no relief. You could say they wish our generation bad luck. It's as if they were born with it. Being a father isn't easy, isn't it? I'm a father myself, But luckily they were all daughters. I really don't want to be the father of a son in our time. Your own father .