Especially since the current order is so unequal, so unfair. Old story, of course. Biblical; detailed in Genesis; it’s the oldest story, inequality, and never much changed from the start of civilization. So how can we change that? What do we do now?
Now, everyone knows everything. No one on the planet is ignorant of the real conditions of our shared social existence. That’s one real thing those stupid smartphones have done; you can be illiterate, many are, and still have an excellent idea of how the world works. You know the world is spinning toward catastrophe. You know it’s time to act. Everyone knows everything. The invisible hand never picks up the check. The money is already here, it just isn’t evenly distributed. Which is to say properly distributed. So now things have broken. We broke them; we broke them on purpose! Riot, occupation, non-compliance, general strike: breakdown. Now it’s time for Plan B. Time to act— as in, act of parliament. It will be legislation that does it in the end, creating a new legal regime that is fair, just, sustainable, and secure. Public utility districts, state-owned (meaning citizen-owned) enterprises, cooperative enterprises, real political representation, and so on. We have to enact a Plan B as law, as soon as possible. The best Plan B will emerge from the multitudes.
83
Back in Pita, in the season of white nights, midnight and yet still not dark, on this night a dim eerie gray light, the seaside city under low clouds, as so often. On the Trinity Bridge, looking inland at the great wall of the Peter and Paul Fortress in its spotlights, glowing yellow in the dusk. Raw cold, as usual. She had her old coat on, its fur collar warm under her chin. Her winter cap down over her ears. Long underwear under her pants, her old lined boots. She was okay, she had come prepared. Though it was always a shock to get back into such a raw cold.
Ah Tatiana, her friend said from behind her, you were such a beauty before you left, and now you’re just another babushka like the rest of us.
Fuck you, she said. You look even worse.
They hugged.
Actually you are looking pretty fucking good, Svetlana said, inspecting her as they held hands. I guess all that money in Switzerland has been good for you. Spas and diets and workouts, it looks like.
Not.
Well, you’ve always been lucky to have a figure like yours, you can pack it on and still look good, just more gush.
Lots of Swiss cheese, Tatiana agreed unhappily. But quit being stupid, tell me what you want.
I want out.
Tatiana sucked in on the cold air. Are you sure?
Svetlana gestured at the city. Who wouldn’t?
I thought it was looking pretty.
Svetlana gestured at the Lakhta Center tower, puncturing the white night like a giant silver needle. Are you kidding me?
I kind of like it.
You would. Come on though. It isn’t a case of how it looks, or how you look, or how you felt about it when you were a girl.
I hated it when I was a girl. It’s now I like it.
Now that you’re gone.
I’ll be back someday.
I doubt it. Don’t kid yourself. This place would kill you.
I thought things were getting better. Putin’s gone, the communists are making a comeback, the oligarchs are dead or in jail.
Don’t say that! Why do you say that? The first generation is gone, but their children are thugs, you know that. We’ll never be rid of them.
But they don’t care about political power. They’re all in Monaco or New York, right?
Not all. Some, but not all. And while there’s still a rump party around to wreak havoc, it’s not over. Not even close.
The democracy movement has the momentum. Democratic communism— you have to love it. We’ll end up the reverse of the Chinese. They became dictator capitalists, we’ll become democratic communists.
In Zurich you can maybe believe that. Here it’s not so simple.
You have to admit it’s getting better.
Better, yes. Because there was so much room for getting better. But the more we win, the more resistance there is. The better we do the more dangerous it gets for us, do you understand that?
I do.
So, think about it. You’ve been having some success, and we have too. And so the danger rises. I want to work from the outside now, like you.
Do you think it matters where you are?
I do. This bridge has the highest murder rate of any bridge in the world.
And so you picked it as our meeting place?
I wanted to remind you. I wanted you to feel it.
Tatiana heaved in a cold breath, feeling depressed. Mother Russia, the unhappy bear. Not a surprise, really. She said, Is there something I can do from Zurich?
Of course. Get me out.
Beyond that?
Yes, of course. The new prosecutor general is on our side,
