everything. Ok, attention people, in your places!” said Victor turning to the others. “Ready? Jugglers, acrobats, go! Music, go! Cameras, let’s go!”
And at that, the previously chaotic, motley crowd suddenly came together transformed, moving smoothly and stylishly, as if the scene had been rehearsed a thousand times before. And of course, the diva was at the very center of the action, charmingly twirling her bow.
La-la, lalalala-la, lalalala-la, lalala.
If you’ve never been
To our bright city,
Never dreamed till dawn
Above the evening river,
If you have never strolled with friends
Down the vast avenues,
You have never seen
The best city in the world.
Ta-tada-tada-da!
The song sets sail, and my heart sings,
These words are about you, Moscow…[1]
In that moment, all the mirrors seemed to sparkle simultaneously and Matilda, on whom the camera was focused, was lit up in a flash of bright light. She continued moving to the beat of the music as a green mist engulfed her from all sides. Dumbfounded, Matilda stopped dancing. The mist quickly dissipated but the space around her was filled with a mirage of blue sand and yellow sky. Matilda’s eyesight seemed to go dim. She was alone inside the mirage which was slowly floating right through her. She could hear music playing somewhere in the distance. Then the mirage dissolved and in its place, Matilda was surrounded by gray figures, moving about as if dancing the same dance that was being performed on the stage just moments ago. The figures were dressed in gray, shapeless, hooded robes, their faces obscure and blurred. The music faded and was replaced by a glassy chime. The figures froze and stared at Matilda perplexed. Matilda looked back at them in horror.
Emerging from their stupor, the gray figures rushed at the poor woman shouting.
“Synthetic maid! Synthetic maid!”
“Eat heo! Eat heo!”
Matilda’s legs buckled and she fainted before the figures had time to pounce.
The Glamrocks
Matilda regained consciousness and found herself tied to a pole. She was not so much tied to it as firmly wound with rawhide straps, her legs dangling above the ground. The figures in the gray hooded robes circled the pole in a ring mumbling some kind of mantra.
Mana-veda, mana-sana, mana-una, mana-mana.
Mana-oma, ata-mana, mana-okha, mana-dana.
From time to time they would stop, turn to the center of the circle and shout out.
“Synthetic maid! Eat heo!” Then they would resume their sinister circle dance.
“Mana-oga, makha-mana, mana-osha, mana-shana.”
The ground around the pole was desert-like and stony. Not far from the pillar a large fire burned, and a little further off, Matilda could make out primitive-looking buildings. The sky glowed with a dim, gray light but there was no sun. The overall picture was completely colorless, like a black and white film. Against this background, Matilda’s vivid figure looked like an alien from some distant world. As the reader may recall, Matilda had turquoise hair, and a blue painted face and she was wearing a dark-green jumpsuit, pink platforms and a bow of the same color attached to her lower back.
The unfortunate diva was in a state of shock. She could not understand where she was or what was happening. Even worldly-wise priestess Itfut would no doubt have paled finding herself in such a situation. What was the poor thing to feel, as one accustomed to pampering, home comforts and universal adoration? In other circumstances, she would have complained in her usual manner: “Everything is horrible, very, very ho-o-rrible!” But this was not the time to be capricious. For some reason there was only one thought going through her mind at that moment and oddly enough that thought was ‘now my bow will get squashed.’ This was very strange indeed taking into account what had happened to her and what awaited her now.
Meanwhile, the savages, who had spent plenty of time in a circle mumbling began arguing amongst themselves over what to do next with their captive. Some cried, “We’ll f’y heo!“
Others, “No, b’ew heo!”
They appeared either not to be able to pronounce the letter ‘r’, or not to want to because it wasn’t just that they spoke with an uvular ‘r’; they swallowed the sound instead. Far from being comical, this created a creepy effect.
They continued arguing huddled in a group before splitting into two groups which started yelling at each other.
“F’y!”
“B’ew!”
The argument eventually escalated into a messy brawl.
The savages (or whoever else they were, as their faces were all the same, gray, genderless, lifeless and waxlike), were fighting not for life but for death. They had no weapons, but they made use of the stones lying at their feet. Soon, they were no longer standing but rolling around in the dust tearing their robes to shreds. It turned out that they had no hair.
Matilda observed the wild medley with horror and understood that even if they all killed each other, bound to the post unable to move her arms or legs, she stood no chance. She wanted to scream but there was a lump in her throat, and anyway, what was the point? There was not anyone else from whom she could expect help. This was not a dream.
Who knows how long the mindless mayhem would have continued had it not been for a powerful, deep sound like a trumpet. As if waking up, the gray numbskulls picked themselves up reluctantly and still staggering a little managed to arrange themselves in a circle around the pole. Dirty, their clothes in tatters, they once again started stamping their feet in the same circle dance, murmuring what might have been spells or mantras.
Sometime later, as if on cue, they stopped, turned to the center of the circle and angrily shouted in one voice as if they had come to agreement.
“B’ew heo!”
And having spoken these words as one, they began running about. Some threw logs into the flames of the fire. Others dragged a huge cauldron that had appeared as if out of nowhere. A third group leapt closer to Matilda, stuck out their tongues, and stared right at her, shaking their heads and mumbling. They shook and they mumbled and then they shouted.
“Synthetic maid!” All the others joined in unanimously. “Eat heo! Eat!”
Then, mumbling, baring their teeth and sticking out their tongues, they untied their victim and dragged her towards with fire.
It made for a truly surreal scene. Nothing like this could ever happen in reality. A girl with a doll-like appearance and a pink bow… treated with such foul intent… No, it was all too unreal. And yet, it was actually happening.
In this moment, Matilda, who was scared to death just seconds before, suddenly regained her self-control as sometimes happens to a person who, condemned to death, finally has nothing to lose and realizes that things cannot get any worse. Gathering all her strength, Matilda began to shout.
“Get lost, you fools! Get your filthy hands off my bow!”
She
Song “The Best City in the World”, music by A. Babadzhanyan, lyrics, L. Derbenev
