A History of The 21st Century

A Memoir By Major Alexander Pushkin Litvinova, U.S. Army, ret.

A Novella by Fred Beauford

Chapter 16

And fuck her I did! Father. From that point on, the moment I entered the apartment and took my coat off, we were soon laying in her warm bed, sometime fucking, but most of the time just holding on to each other and enjoying the warmth of our bodies against each other.

She was in so much need. I was really surprised, Father, really surprised.

In the next few weeks she revealed even more about herself. She also gave me a modern history and civic lesson. The more she talked, the more I could see that this woman was deadly serious, and carried a deep anger about the conditions and government we lived under.

One day she had just come back from a meeting with her doctor who told her that she was too nervous. “Look at this Alexander.”

She held out her hand. There was a bunch of little blue pills in it. “Now they said I should take these. I’m supposed to be too nervous. Who the fuck wouldn’t be nervous the way they try to control you. Bullshit! I ain’t taking this shit!”

She threw the pills on the floor and started stomping on them in a fit of rage. I had never seen her like this.

“I’m telling you, Alexander, all they want to do is control us. That’s all! Well, they ain’t gonna control me! Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them!”

Lucy was so angry that I didn’t know what to say to her.

“Why don’t you get a job. That way you don’t have to deal with them,” I said, trying to sound as reasonable as I could.

She gave me that look again that said I was out of my mind, or at least a bit daffy. “There are no jobs, Alexander! Ever since they dismantled all the plants, and outlawed cars, what is left for us to do? We all can’t be farmers. All this talk about everyone getting a little patch of land. What a joke. They just want to get us in the middle of nowhere so they can keep a better eye on us. Who wants to live in the middle of nowhere? Tell me, who the hell cares if there are more trees now. And, fuck deers. Who the fuck wants to be around a bunch of fucking deers! They say we are all going to die of cancer, except for really black people, unless we do as we’re told. I think they’re all full of shit.”

It’s amazing, Father, how little I had noticed of the world around me. I did watch as the cars slowly disappeared, replaced by slow, silent electric personal scooters. Some guy back at the end of your century said that his invention would one day replace cars. You know what, Father, he was right. The Moral Force mainly owns those little things and other bigwigs. Most people walk, bike, or take the subway or Fusion bus.

I could afford it, but I didn’t own a personal scooter. What for? I didn’t go anywhere, except once in a while on a vinyl or red wine hunt.

All of this was supposed to make the weather better. But, old country Colonel Bird would say that that was like closing the barn door after the horse had already run off.

But, I suppose the weather was getting better, whatever better meant. And talk of the economy, and jobs? I knew nothing, Father.

But it was clear that a person like Lucy was paying attention. And the more I listened to her, the more I could see that she was suffering. Her real Manhattan Syndrome was wondering what was going to happen to her and her feeling that she had little control over her life, as those fools in Washington made bad law after bad law.

What a contrast to me, Father! All I cared about was my vinyl and where I was going to score my next bottle of good wine.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“It’s not about what I’m going to do. It’s about what we’re going to do.”

“Who is we?” I asked, confused.

“Those of us who are no longer going to sit still and do nothing.”

I watched as her face became tense and steely with determination. Her blue eyes became as cold as Mother’s did when she was pissed off at me, or The Gangster.

“I still don’t know what you are talking about,” I said, unable to say anything else.

She smiled as she noticed the look on my face and came over and put her arms around me and pulled me close to her.

“Major Pushkin, it’s time for you to come back into the real world.”


Her “real world,” as it turned out, was a meeting of her friends that she finally convinced me to attend.

We entered into the basement of a house at the end of the block on a street near my apartment. What I found interesting was this block was one of the few left that had the old fashion attached, single-family houses that were so much a part of Brighton Beach when I first moved here. They, like the tenements, have been mostly torn down to make way for the huge high-rises.

The basement was already filled with young people. I quickly looked around and saw that no one looked older than thirty. I felt everyone’s eyes fixed on me. I had a spooky feeling. I guess it was just because I wasn’t used to being around so many people. I felt that they were all looking at me as if I was guilty of something.

There must have been at least twenty of them. They were all white and Asian, with the notable exception of a very dark-skinned black man with wild looking dreadlocks.

“So, who’s your friend?” The person who spoke up was a small, narrowed-eyed Asian man.

“This is Major Litvinova,” Lucy said in a loud, formal voice. “I brought him here to meet with us. The Major is a man of action and military training and is as much a victim of this oppression as any of us. And, with his training, he can help us.”

“We don’t need no damn Major. It’s those kinds of motherfuckers that started all of this shit in the first place,” the young man answered. He stared at me with dark, accusing eyes.

“That’s right! That’s right,” several people shouted.

I felt like turning around and leaving. I didn’t need them, either. Fuck them, whoever they were!

“Goddamnit, Gary, who the hell are you to tell me who I can bring! Now you shut the fuck up. The Major is with me. Now, does anybody else have anything to say about it?”

Whoaaaa, Father. What was going on here? The people in the room, especially the wiseass that had spoken out again me, now looked chastened, put in their place. Lucy seemed in her element. There was not a trace of hesitation or fear in her voice or her body language.

“Look, Commander, we just never can be more careful. We don’t know who this is. But if you say he’s okay, he’s okay,” Gary said, making his peace with Lucy.

But, what was this “Commander” stuff. A sense of suspicion came over me. Was this what it was all about? Had she set me up from the first day we met on that bench? Was it just because she needed me to help in some little game she was playing with these people?

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