And then he heard a distant familiar voice.
«I can’t breathe… Son…»
He muttered in his sleep:
«Father, Father, don’t go away, Father. I beg you. I loved you so much. I love you so. We must talk. We have so much to talk about now.»
«Can you hear how our eternal land trembles, my son?»
«I can’t hear, I feel nothing… I live far from my native land; I live in Moscow. All 1 can see from my window are the serrated blocks of newly erected concrete buildings stretching to the horizon.»
«It heaves and shifts, it moans and weeps. Are you, the living, not aware of this?»
«Do you think the earth can weep?…»
«Have the living become totally deaf? The moans which tear at the depths of one’s soul, the weeping which rends the Universe, have they fallen on deaf ears? Once again atomic experiments are being carried out in your homeland! Once again a Satanic fire gnaws at the inner bowels of the earth! And the earth! The earth rages once more in search of mercy and protection. Have you forgotten how, many years ago, a hydrogen bomb was exploded in the Genghiz Hills?»
«I remember, Father, I remember… I can never forget that day of hell. My dreams are pervaded with the discordant, multi-voiced horror of that day. I wake up in the middle of the night in a sweat, with unseeing eyes…»
«Even now I often tremble at the sound of underground explosions! Suffering and pain! Suffering and pain! In the interests of science! In the interests of the national economy! One hundred and fifty kilotons! The atom! The atom!»
«Father,» I shouted. «Father, are you alive? Weren’t you buried in the old Kazakh cemetery near the pine forest on the steep bank of the Irtysh?»