Russian scientists knew that open warfare
with America was hazardous. Yet, ironically, a
victory could be gained—via the Hand of God!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
March 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
On the morning of the first day, floating in the cold of space, theyinflated the station. It puffed up tightly to a silvery doughnut, andfour men whose names were Krylov, Mirkov, Stolyakhin and Davchenko wentto live inside. There was no ceremony. Out of a motionless rocketwhich hung in space nearby, other men came, trailing long wires. Allthe long black afternoon of that day these men clustered on the skin ofthe doughnut, fixing curved weightless slabs of carbon-coated aluminumto the sides. And within the station, where there was air and thereforea blessed noise, the four men worked with fluttery movements, attachingwires and steel ribs, adjusting, connecting. After a while there wasnothing more to do. The rocket pulled in its lines, gathered up itsmen. When they were all inside it turned over slightly and spat asilent flame, and began to fall, and fell, and was gone.
That was the first day.
The second day was filled with work, and watching, and a great awe.
The third day began to be lonely.
On the fourth day they had a visitor....
The mindless insanity, so carefully by-passed for so many years,reached out at last and drew him in. Diavilev awoke.
The room was very cold, Pyotr Diavilev struggled into his clothes, notsleepy at all, while the army man stood silently at the foot of thebed. Outside the door, stolid and heavy-footed in the darkness, therewere other army men, creaking the floorboards and chuckling.
And so it comes, Diavilev thought. There was nothing at all to say ordo. He hitched his belt tightly and breathed for what seemed like thefirst time, and then he nodded to the army man.
He was taken away.
He sat in the dark, in the plush rear seat of a huge car being drivenat great speed through the city. He was surprised; he had expected themto be more brutal. But they were never, ever, what you expected. In thedarkness he strove to compose himself.
The army man asked him for a cigarette. When he struck the matchDiavilev realized that he had forgotten his glasses.
"My glasses," he said humbly, "please, I have forgotten my glasses."
The army man surprisingly, seemed concerned. Then he said:
"Never mind. We will get them."
He leaned forward and spoke into a radio. There was a brief replywhich Diavilev could not hear and the army man sat back comfortably,satisfied.
"Your glasses will be there," he said.
Diavilev thanked him. Because of the unexpected courtesy the level ofhis fear began to go down. Perhaps it will not be so bad, he thought.Maybe after all it is only interrogation. But again he thought thatyou never knew what to expect, that in all the long years of yessingand bowing and applauding he had never understood them.
Well then, now was the time to understand.
I will say whatever they want me to say, I will not resist in theleast. What does it matter? The world belongs to them, and if a manwishes to live he must be logical and agree. Let them do what theywill, and I will applaud every step of the way.
He folded his hands in his lap.
After a long while the car stopped. The first army man gave him over toanother army man whom he could not see in the darkness, and after manya