Chapter 3: From Up on Soyuz Hill

A nice bench at a small park nearby seemed as good a place as any to continue their discussion. For his proper lunch, Grigori had gotten a chicken kiev sandwich and Milena, an open-faced sandwich consisting of kielbasa, cheese, and vegetables. Neither of them wanted to eat indoors for a while, and bottled tea was just as good. Thank the Lord, they had a ton of napkins, as the food was a messy affair, but they were free from any eavesdropping. There was just enough room left for the cakes. The explanation of Period Poverty was far more detailed than required, making eating the slice of strawberry cake with oozing jam very uncomfortable.

"I have a big mouth; that's exactly what got me sent to this rock – my dearest father's gift to me, to make trouble."

"Yeah, next time you start a rant, I will have to stop you for both our sakes."

"Fair, just don't try to cover my mouth; I bite subconsciously."

"Noted."

Despite the headache her tongue caused her, it did allow her to be quite the popular writer. Winning a writing contest in Middle School had led to her being offered a contract by a major publisher to write professionally. The articles she submitted were printed in many of the biggest papers in the nation and quite a few other countries, including the United States. She even wrote a book, which sold well but had been the catalyst for her "voluntary" relocation.

"I'm not ashamed of what I wrote about; if the Soviet Union is to truly be a nation of egalitarianism, then its female citizens must be treated better! Perhaps my wording was too harsh, but well-behaved women rarely make history!"

"I agree, but I think you need a few more allies before you go about lighting all these fires."

"If I didn't have patrons, then I would have "fallen out" of a window months ago."

A forced laugh escaped from her lips, followed by a groan. Grigori had heard about such "misfortunes" even this far from the Motherland. Soviets knew what really happened in their country; they were just smart enough to keep their mouths shut and eyes looking anywhere else. They finished lunch and then tossed away the garbage in a bin before continuing their walk.

Aimlessly they wandered through the streets and visited countless stores, though just to look, as neither of them wanted to haul anything for the rest of the day. Milena's apartment was in the Krasivy-Vid neighborhood, one of the most sought-after in the city. Rytsar was Grigori's neck of the woods, a district designated for citizens whose deeds for the nation had been rewarded. There was only one site that Milena requested by name to see, which had been hyped up in all the guidebooks as the number-one place to visit. Her attendant had no complaints; it would be coming out of the government's pocket!

Soyuz Hill was by far the highest point in the city and had spectacular views from the top. One could simply walk up, if one had about 1.5 spare hours each way, or pay the exorbitant fee to drive it. But the cable car was the real way to get there. Of course, Moscow had one as well, over its titular river, but this one was far more exciting to the Muscovite as it ascended above everything, asserting its majesty in silence.

With a giddy stride, she made her way to the ticket booth; Grigori, catching her enthusiasm, went along. He had only ridden it once, but that was quite some time ago. With barely a sound, the car began its ascent, the city below shrinking. Milena, in the window's reflection, noticed her bun was coming undone and let out a moan. Grigori offered to help, explaining he had little sisters; she gratefully obliged. It was explained that the side bun had been an idea that came to her during a swim. It would allow her to stand out from other activists, but still have a professional aura. It also frequently garnered compliments and started a trend named for her in Moscow, marking a fashionable woman.

"Alright, that should do it. I think I got it right?"

"Yeah, it feels right. Appreciated."

Neither could think of another topic worth bringing up, so they just looked out. The view was pretty great and worth capturing. Grigori knew his family would enjoy hearing about this, as they always liked a good story. That reminded him that he hadn't actually told his family where he was. Crap, I forgot to answer Dad's text!

"What exactly did you do that got you sent here? I mean, it sounds like your writing got people really pissed?"

"A riot, the biggest one, on the Kremlin's doorstep in decades!"

She elaborated on the whole disaster with smug delight. Unexpectedly, her book struck a chord with many women and a surprising number of sympathetic men, all of whom took to the streets to express their displeasure with the oppression of women. In Moscow alone, at least 35 thousand people, and quite a few in smaller cities.

"That doesn't seem to be a good way to push for change."

"Personally, I think rioting was too much, but there's this great quote from an African American Activist: "A riot is the language of the unheard." So, they made their voices crystal clear."

Cluck The cable car reached the top and the doors hissed open. Milena sprinted out, as if it were a marathon to the top of the hill. That's from a sitting position! Grigori wasn't sure if there was any need for him to sprint; he knew where she was going, and with all the signs, it was next to impossible to get lost. She was right at the peak, bouncing up and down in awe of the view of the entire city. Once more, he was her photographer, also taking a few landscapes for himself.

Finally, her adrenaline faded and, with the last of her strength, plopped herself on a large rock. Breathless, but content. Grigori stood over her, amused by her childish energy. She looked up at him with a grin.

"You know, I'm a terrible danger to Soviet society according to the authorities, all 64 kilograms of me!"

She was proud of her figure, maintained through a disciplined physical regimen, far harsher than her male companion's. He definitely had noticed the efforts of this labor, especially in the lower half of her body. Fortuitously, as she walked ahead of him, his observations were not noticed.

"So here I am, as far away from Moscow as humanly possible."

"That also keeps you safe from Moscow, doesn't it?"

"I—but—I didn't think of it like that. But still, to be exiled for just wanting progress in your homeland, is that right?"

"No, not by your definition of progress, but maybe this is a chance to hone your craft, make new connections and find new ways to fight!"

"Huh? You know, that's pretty good. Yes, like Lenin in Switzerland, I should use this time away to reforge myself better than ever!"

A fire was ablaze in Milena's chest, her fingers twitching and arousal flooding her face. Her cheeks turning apple-red, Grigori stepped back just as she darted over to a nearby women's bathroom.

I guess she really had to get something out of her system. Yuck. The thought caused him to shudder. All of her talk about female anatomy flashed back into his head; having sisters meant that thought was never too buried. He sensed it would be a while before his guest returned, fine by him.

Grigori just leaned against a pine tree and tapped a quick reply on his phone. Following that, he read whatever articles came up in his feed. A quiet day in the world: the economy was doing decently, there was the usual amount of crime, and to no surprise whatsoever, a businessman with ties to affluent politicians was dead. FC Gagarin was favored over Tereshkova a little bit tonight, but being an underdog kept them hungry to hit harder. The new season of Crimson Steel Titan X was coming up in a few days and he already could not stop reading all the fan predictions.

Emerging from the restroom after a good 15 minutes was a very relieved Milena, skipping out. There was a recognizable sense of pride on her face, no different from acing a test. Grigori asked as a courtesy if she was doing alright.

"Everything just flowed out of me like a waterfall, it was glorious!

He gagged audibly at her vivid wording far beyond anything he wanted to hear. Chocolate mixed with her sandwich might have been an explosive combo; psychological trauma, however, was not among the dangers he expected from this assignment. He raked his brain for any possible alternative pathway.

"Just a quick heads up, night mode starts at 8, it'll take about an hour to get back to the residential areas."

"Gotcha, just want to get some nice photos to send to my mother."

"She doesn't live with you?"

Leaning over the edge of the safety rail, a long sigh reminiscent of a boiler exited from Milena's lungs. Shit, why did I say that?!! Her gaze stared out over the horizon, locked deep in her own thoughts. The wind gently flowed through her hair.

"When I "agreed" to be relocated to somewhere quieter and safer for my own good, I was promised that it would be a modern city. Vladivostok was my guess at worst. I did not expect it to be the actual Moon."