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Chipped blockheads
Fedor Mashina
Fedor Laburchenko
A champion chess player from Tula province got a microchip implanted into his brain by his sister Masha, who thus revived him after a cardiac standstill caused by an alcohol overdose.Kolya quits drinking alcohol and transforms into a better version of himself, taking an unequal fight with an oligarch to impress Alina, the girl he is in love with.
Chipped blockheads
Fedor Laburchenko
Fedor Mashina
Translated by Natalia Grigorieva
Editor and proofreader Maria Beloglazova
© Fedor Laburchenko, 2024
© Fedor Mashina, 2024
ISBN 978-5-0062-8065-6
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Episode 1
Scene 1
Maria was sitting at the work table in the poorly-lit utility room of her laboratory. A heap of piled-up experiment results and an open bottle of brandy presented to her by someone seemed to cry out that all her work was moving to hell.
Upon entering the room unexpectedly, Fyodor noticed that his partner had not yet consumed a drop of alcohol. So, not all was lost.
FYODOR: Maria Vladimirovna, don’t you think you’ve finished your working day a bit early today?
MARIA: Stop it, I have nothing finished yet. Can’t you see I’m having a little creative crisis here?
Fyodor sharply pushed a chair towards Maria’s desk and sat down opposite the girl, trying to look into her eyes. But in vain. Maria sat with her shoulders slouched, her eyes seemed to poke holes in the neck of the bottle, her stare was blank and tired.
FYODOR: I repeat it for the five thousandth time, Masha, people are not pigs, it’s not your fault that this man died. Do you think someone could have done something like that if he had any hope of recovery? I tell you NO! He was a goner! Not a ghost of a chance. This is the only truth you need to take in, and that’s all. Clear?
Slowly, Maria turned her gaze away from the bottle and smoothly shifted it to Fyodor, who felt a bit sweaty after his emotional speech, as the shiny drops on his forehead confirmed.
Maria thought things were worse than she had expected. A moment ago, Fyodor tried to cheer her up, though usually it was she who brought him to his senses before even the most trifling test. And now he was yelling at her, a respected microbiologist, as if she was a snotty first-year student. Masha had a wild desire to have a drink. Her hand reached out to the precious vessel of brandy, but Fyodor grabbed the bottle and returned it back to the table.
FYODOR (calmly this time): Masha, get yourself together now. Let’s make a deal. As soon as all is over, you and I will have a drink. Together. Together. If you like, we’ll call the whole department to join us! But now we have to work. You’ve put a lot of effort into this project. You must reach the end. Mom wouldn’t forgive you…
MASHA (a little offended): Don’t mention mom…
FYODOR: Well, why not? We do all this in memory of her. You and I know for sure she watches us from there! (Fyodor pointed upward.) And she rejoices at your success, at every new step.
MARIA (sharply hits the table with her fist): What can you understand, Fedya? You are as safe as in God’s pocket. Do you know what I felt leaving my mom alone with her parkinsonism, with her alcoholic son and starting out in search of a magic elixir? Five years have passed since she went there, to heaven. Five years, Fyodor! And we still have no elixir! Isn’t it too long? You’ll never understand it, Fedenka, what it means: to have no forces to return to your parents’ house and look into your brother’s eyes. Yes, I can’t look my alcoholic brother in the eyes, because he will say: “Sorry my little sister, you are late!” Because, although he drank like a fish, he was beside her… And I left them alone, Fedya! I left them alone but nothing came of it. Nothing…
Fyodor was silent. He listened to Mary’s revelations with his head bent.
MARIA (calming down): Fyodor, understand me, I believe in God, and for me the death of this poor man is a sin on my conscience. No matter what you say, I will always think of it this way. No, I can’t work here anymore. I’ll file for leave tomorrow.
FYODOR (scared): Don’t even think about it, Maria! What about all the things we have already done? No one can finish what you started. You know this perfectly well. No, Maria, I won’t let you do that.
MARIA: I need a reset. The death of this patient must be a sign… I need to stay away from this place for a while.
FYODOR: What’s the problem? Take a vacation. Have a rest. And return to us. I’ll talk to the boss myself!
MARIA: No, no. I won’t stop thinking about it on vacation. And I need to clear my mind. To be alone with myself, to pray. To accept some truths. That’s all, Fyodor, it’s settled.
Maria grabbed the bottle. Fyodor thought she would take a sip, but instead the girl took a cap from her robe pocket, screwed it onto the neck of the container, and put it in a drawer.
Fyodor looked at his partner. His eyes seemed to be slightly wet with tears.
Scene 2
Three logs, cut unevenly and scattered among the old maple thickets, were the favorite place of village men who escaped their homes and shared two liters of fragrant moonshine with five of them. Nikolai, a former well-known chess champion from the Tula region, was part of this gallant company. Unfortunately, Kolya had to pack up his sports career, so he unpacked a different direction that was far from intellectual.
MITYAY (drinking buddy No. 1): Have you heard about Alekseich, our chairman? Guess what he said to the head of the region recently? He said there were no men in the village. He will recruit migrants to work on the collective farm. Just fancy what we’ll have in the village?
KOLYA: What will we have?
SERGEYICH (drinking buddy No. 2, imitating Nikolai): What will we have, what will we have… That’s what we will have: we will be pushed to one side in our native village. No, guys, we need to show these migrants who’s boss here.
KOLYA (smirks): And you, Sergeich, compete with them to see who drinks more. So you’ll show who’s boss here. Truth be told, fellas, don’t dump on Alekseich. Of course, he’s dodger, but he’s not to blame here at all.
MITAYA: Why is that?
KOLYA: Just because he has no choice. Who will he put to drive the combine? Who will he trust to drive the seeder? Not to mention the milking machine. Who will work for him in the end? Maybe you, misery boozers?
CHUPA (drinking buddy No. 3, the most awe-inspiring and the oldest one): Mind your tongue, snotnose! If you are so smart, why don’t you go to work on Alekseich’s collective farm?
KOLYA: You asked and answered, Chupa. I’m smart – that’s why I don’t go there. I’m a person engaged in intellectual work: by definition, I cannot use muscles in my work.
MITYAY (contentiously): Yes, yes, we are in the know! Highty-tighty, you’re almost Kasparov, a genius chess player!
KOLYA: Why chess only? Take it up a notch! I am the smartest strategist ever. Whatever I do, I triumph!
CHUPA: Yes, and there we have it: in words you are buying a yacht from Abramovich but at actuals you are sitting with us, pouring this cheap pig sweat into yourself. A strategist!
The drinking buddies laughed loudly.
KOLYA (irritated): Stop cackling! I’m just having a run of bad luck. From the day when I buried my mother, I can’t feel like oneself again. I did all these things only for her. Whether I brought a certificate from school or a cup from a competition. She smiled, and I wanted nothing more.
Kolya closed his eyes. Memories of his mother made him happy and unhappy at the same time.
MITYAY (it’s unclear whether he’s kidding or he is serious): You are a great show-off, Kolyan. But in truth, they all don’t need you for shit. Even Masha, your dear sister, never comes to see you. And why? Yes, because she doesn’t want to see her crooked bro!
For exactly five seconds Nikolai stared at Mityai with fiery eyes. His gaze was fixed on the man who dared to hit him where it hurt. The drinking buddies didn’t even notice how Kolya leapt up, appeared behind Mityai’s back and clasped his neck in his long sinewy arms. Stasyan (drinking buddy No. 4), Mityai’s best friend, tried to separate the fighters, but got a kick in the stomach from the vigilant Kolya.
Noticing that Mitya’s face had turned blue and his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, Chupa carefully called Nikolai.
CHUPA: Kolya, calm down. Take no sin on your soul. You’ll kill him.
Kolya loosened his grip a little. Seeing that Mityai didn’t try to fight back, he let him go. The guy slowly slipped down onto the log, looking back in horror at his offender.
Nikolai was breathing heavily. Looking angrily at his recent drinking buddy, he waved his hand, cursed loudly, turned around and walked away.
Scene 3
An old blue PAZ bus, one of those that usually run between regional centers and villages in our vast country, took Maria to the place where she had spent her childhood. A bumpy road and a hard seat prevented the girl from dozing, so she let her mind fill with thoughts during the trip. Scenes of studying at the university were swirling around in her head alongside memoirs about how she dreamed of getting a job at a research institute, and how the dream came true, and how everything collapsed a few days ago, when unsuccessful test prompted her to resign from the research institute.
Maria travelled home fully unaware of her future. What will she do? How will she earn her living? The girl had no answers to these questions.
The squeak of the brakes interrupted Maria’s thoughts as the vehicle arrived in the village. Maria got off the bus and headed to her parents’ house. Having reached it, she stopped for a while, thinking. Then something made Maria continue to move down the street towards the church at the very edge of the village.
On entering the church, the girl was pleasantly surprised by its good state. During her previous visit there, she was a schoolgirl, and the temple looked different. Maria walked through the church insides, admiring the icons, wall paintings and, most importantly, the fresh cosmetic repairs.
Suddenly Maria felt someone’s glance on her back. The girl turned around. A rather young clergyman wearing neat and well-ironed garments was looking at her. Maria noticed that the priest really cared about his appearance. Her idea was proven not only by his clothes, but also by his neatly trimmed beard.
PRIEST: Good day to you, sister! Can I help you?
MARIA (looks in surprise): Bless me, Father! My name is Maria. I was once a parishioner of this church. I never thought everything would become so beautiful here! You, Father, have created a real miracle.
PRIEST (smiling): Not me, Maria! Thanks to the concerned parishioners. Your fellow countrymen did their best.
MARIA (smiling): I know my fellow countrymen quite well. They are great, of course, but without a good… uh… impetus, they will not participate in pious deeds.
PRIEST (laughs): Fair enough!
There was a pause. Maria continued to look at the interior of the church while the priest didn’t take his eyes off Maria.
PRIEST: Kyrill is my name.
MARIA: Father Kyrill?
KYRILL: Just Kyrill for you. I’ve joined the priory recently, so sometimes I look too simple for a priest.
MARIA: Really? I must admit, this made me feel a little better.
KIRILL: But why?
MARIA: I think you are the man who won’t criticize me… You see, Kyrill, since childhood I have considered myself a devout believer, but my last project, let’s say, was not a pious deed.
KYRILL (jokingly): Did you take alms from the beggars?
MARIA (seeing the joke, she smiles): Not that!
KYRILL (calmingly): In this case, Maria, any profession can’t be called pious. For example, I am a reserve officer. Frankly speaking, at the academy, they taught me how to kill people. Thanks to God, I wasn’t involved: I didn’t have to take such a sin on my soul. But what if we consider it from another point of view? A strong army keeps enemies from the temptation to attack our people. This way, it saves thousands of lives! It turns out that even without fighting, I helped my brothers and sisters.
Maria nodded approvingly because she shared Kyrill’s ideas.
KYRILL: Now you, Maria, look at your calling from a different angle. How can your work help people?
Maria thought for a while. Perhaps Kyrill was right: if she had achieved a positive result in her research, it would have saved thousands of human lives all over the world. The new priest’s technique really worked!
MARIA (smiling): You know, Kyrill, during my school years I liked coming to this church. But, certainly, in those days it lacked a significant thing.
KYRILL: What exactly?
MARIA (cheerfully): A young and handsome priest with a creative approach to the matter! No doubt, I’ll come here again, Father. I’ll come to my senses and I’ll visit you!
KYRILL: Our doors are open, Maria!
Maria bowed to the priest and headed for the church exit. Kyrill looked appraisingly at the departing girl. His face showed a smile of pleasure.
Scene 4
Nikolai’s and his drinking buddies’ “company party” ended with what people usually call in the village “it’s been a good hang.” Sergeich fell asleep on the spot right under a tree. Mityai went in search of adventure, which traditionally ended with calling the local police officer. To take Chupa home, his caring children came: a teenage daughter and a ten-year-old son.
When Kolya was left alone, he grabbed the bottle with the remains of moonshine, shook it as if trying to collect all the drops of alcohol, and emptied it in one gulp. Having consumed the contents to the last drop, Nikolai threw the empty bottle into the thicket of trees and tried to get to his feet. The first attempt was a failure: Kolya skidded, so he barely had time to grab the branch. The chess player sat down again, gathered his strength, and this time rose to his feet without recourse to the subjects at hand.
At the moment when Kolya left the green gazebo, he remembered that Sergeich was still sleeping there. He turned around, took a few steps back, but suddenly stopped, waved his hand, turned around and confidently shuffled towards the village houses.
The passers-by that Kolya met traditionally walked to the other side of the road: no one wanted to get hooked up with the drunk chess player. Everyone in the village knew that the guy in such a state could be inadequate.
However, Grandma Shura, who also met Kolya that day, was a stranger to fear. By the way, some words about Grandma Shura: she was one of the grannies one can see in every village, the type about which people usually say “she knows everything that happens in the village.”
Seeing Nikolai, Grandma Shura tried to foresee his motion trajectory to stop the chess player and strike up a conversation. When Grandma succeeded in pressing Kolya’s pliable body against the fence of the nearest house, she started interrogations.
GRANDMA SHURA: Why are you wandering here in broad daylight so juiced-up, ducky? Did Grandma Shura miss some holiday? Spit it out, dearie!
KOLYA (slurring): Well, grandma, nothing special. We sat with the guys and relaxed. Sometimes, it doesn’t hurt.
GRANDMA SHURA (squinting her eyes, disapprovingly): Eh, you idlers! To relax, you need to strain yourself at least sometimes. I know your gang: not a single working day in the work record book since privatization. Eh, Andropov is not there to keep you in check! He had a short way with mooches.
KOLYA (grabs his head): Don’t drizzle, grandma Shura! I’m feeling bad enough without you.
GRANDMA SHURA: He’s feeling bad! You’d better go and meet your sister.
KOLYA (seems to turn a bit sober): Which sister?
GRANDMA SHURA: Which sister! Do you have a lot of them?
KOLYA (scratches the back of his head): No, only one.
