Glob-atheism english version

GLOB-ATHEISM
By Svetlana Spivakovskaya
Translate by Marianna Grin


Scene1. 

A14-year old teenager carelessly rolls down the sidewalk on his skateboard. Worn sneakers give him out as a board professional. He skillfully avoids obstacles and passers-by hurrying on their business. A little street along which the kid rides flows into the central avenue of the Big City. On reaching the intersection, the teenager pauses for a second, confused by the sudden roar of the stream of cars. But finally the traffic stops at the light, and he carefully crosses the road with his skateboard under his arm. Mingling with pedestrians, the boy's expression changes and becomes more serious.
Having crossed to the opposite corner, the skater stops near a light-colored brick building, and looks up.  At this point, the city is bathed in twilight. The boy's eyes slowly move up the wall until they reach a lighted rectangle. On the roof of the building is a glowing billboard with the words "Gazprom". The teenager looks at the glowing panel without blinking. Then he notices a hollow in the wall. It seems that this hollow is a service entrance, leading to the basement of this building on the central avenue. The kid slowly takes a step forward to this basement "altar," once again faces up - to the luminous display – and carefully puts his skateboard in this niche. The people around pay no attention to what he is doing with with trepidation. In a hurry, they just go around him, like ants, loudly talking on their phones.  Two men in expensive suits notice the kid as they come out of this building with a sign, notice the boy and smile approvingly, looking at him and his skateboard.  But the boy's eyes are glued to the sign made up of seven letters, and are full of sacred awe.  He leaves his skateboard in the wall, takes a step back, puts his palms together in front of himself and does a "namaste" sign.  His worn skateboard fits nicely into the width of the niche leading to the basement. The teenager covers his eyes, as if turning inward and performing an important rite of initiation. To his side, at the main entrance to the building, the men in suits finish their conversation, shake hands and part ways.  One of the two men, walking past the kid, slaps him on the shoulder, as if to recognize that "Now you are one of us."


Scene 2

A clear summer morning.  A Hassidic Jewish student, whose face radiates joy and kindness, is riding a bicycle down the street.  He does not seem in a hurry.  His movements are measured and unhurried.  The student observes the trees on the roadside and greets rare passers-by, humming something softly under his nose.  His sidecurls wave in the wind to the tact of the bike's movemenets.  If one moves the gaze from his face and looks at the student's body as a whole, it quickly becomes apparent, however,  that the bicycle is too small for him.  His legs barely unfold and his knees overreach the front wheel altogether!  The bicycle is not his size.  That's why his movements are so slow.  But such insignificant details do not spoil his mood, and don't even hinder his movements.
Our hero, with the same expression on his face, passes a synagogue, kindly smiling at the morning sun.  He turns into a narrow side lane and stops at the litle used items shop with the sign "Antiques."  Perhaps it is here that he bought his old bicycle.  He slowly gets off the bike and with his usual pedantry leans the bike against the wall.  Approaching the shop's window, he covers his eyes from the sun with his palms and looks inside through the window.  The store has not opened yet, and there is a sign hanging on the door, saying "Closed." 
The shop is full of useless things, their lives finished elsewhere.... the student's eyes move along antique books, tapestries, a grammaphone, and suddenly stop at little golden spoons.
They are in the center of the room, on a mahogany chest, to the left of a coat rack with a military overcoat from the Second World War.  It is a halfdozen of spoons with the same initials which can't be figured out through the window.
The little spoons are in an open box on blue matte velvet, which is even better preserved than the gold-plate of these aristocratic household utensils.  A set of six spoons – he has been looking for this wonder for so long!  The student furtively pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his face.  He remains standing like that, leaning his forehead against the window and looking at the open box with the six identical golden spoons.  His shoulders are trembling slightly. Then one hears the murmur of a prayer.   The synagogue dome is reflected in the shop's window.

Scene 3

Overcast sky, as before a thunderstorm.  The noise of the city, an enormous square near the main train station.  Somewhere in the distance we hear the sound of police sirens.  The square, surrounded by small buildings, is dotted with a few benches, trash urns and manholes.  But central to it - and this is visible to the naked eye - is a just-erected large building covered in white cloth.  In the meantime, crowds of people are approaching the shopping mall.  The conversations get quieter, and all eyes are riveted to the entrance of the new MALL.  People are pointing at the lights shining through the white cover of the building.  Just a little more, and the cover will fall off.  Everyone is holding their breath.  A solemn march sounds, calling all gathered to quiet down and head for the center of the action.  A huge video projection screen is broadcasting what is happening at the entrance.  The governor of the city and several other important people in suits, smiling, are cutting the red ribbon, and a few moments later, the white cloth falls off, revealing an elegant facade with large gold letters "GALLERY".  A Gigantic building in the Imperial Roman style, with wide columns and Atlases-gladiators, is sparkling with large signs of major brands, commands awe to the mankind assembled on a wide square.  The immense scale of the Mall makes everyone feel even smaller in the hands of business providence.  The sky is dark as if in contrast with the light-colored stone of the building, as if the Mall is made of lunar rock.  Columns of light rise from the bay windows between the columns, giving a soaring feeling to the enormous shopping mall and commanding respect to the BRAND names represented here.  Classical music in a light-pop arrangement, smells of happiness, money and vanilla ice cream flow from the depths of the Mall.  They mix with the fumes from the manholes, and, added to the stench from the train station, make a unique cocktail.  Perhaps that this very unconscious detail makes the pilgrims to shopping try to get inside this blessed place even more quickly.

At this time, from the womb of this urbanopolis –  the subway – exits a familyof four.  They go out into the square to witness the opening of this Shopping and Entertainment complex. The father holds the older son's hand, and in the other hand carries his younger daughter.  The mother is carrying a large purse on her shoulder, she checks the kids out every few moments, fixing their noses or the buttons on their collars.  The mother and the daughter are wearing headscarves. 

They cross the square to its middle, and, without a word, stop.  The girl was picking her nose, and she freezes, forgetting to get the finger out of her nose.  The father sets the girl on the ground.  The boy turns questioningly to his father.  The mother straightens out at attention, pulling the purse off her shoulder.  The parents simultaneously drop to their knees, putting their heads to the ground and pulling their arms forward.  The children watch silently from behind.  Finally, the father gives the command and the children, uncertainly, do the same.  Several times the whole family bends and unbends, addressing their requests to that of which they soon will become part.  Their requests are as if in the tradition of lamentation or mumbling; clearly one can hear only the mother's words “shoes” and "food processor";  the father's words "new car battery;" the children's requests cannot be heard at all.  After completing this sacrament, the family gets up together, counting on mercifully getting all that which they just recited.

A few lucky ones, wordlessly and with dignity, are already leaving the shopping mall through the revolving door, their hands full of purchases in brand-name packages.  The crowd in front follows them with their eyes, looking with envy at the colorful expensive packages.  The revolving door, like a metronome, pays no attention to the suffering of the masses trying to get inside, and, like a millstone, at its own pace, spins counterclockwise, measuring circle after circle.  With each round, the door lets inside yet another batch of people.  Their eyes shine.  One young woman, standing in line in front of the revolving door where the crowding is the worst, and anticipating meeting something secret and wonderful, is crying.  Some of the people crowding the square, both singly and in groups, fall to the ground and stretch out their arms towards the just-opened temple of consumerism.  Frozen stone sculptures, decorating the entrance to the Mall, look at the crowd didactically.  Our family, furtively exchanging glances, is approaching the revolving door with meaning...

Scene 4

Sunday.  The ringing bells call everyone to the midday prayer.  People, mostly women in headscarves and long skirts, hurry to the services, to light a candle, to write a name on a little note and send it to the nun assisting with the services.  Near the church, right on the ground, a homeless fool made his place.  It seems that this is his main place of residence, and of work.  He is dressed in a ragged padded jacket and frayed jeans.  Shaking his unkempt beard, the fool asks the congregants for charity, pointing to the tin, which he put in front of his mortal body.  By the looks of the begging bum, it is obvious that such pleasures as a shower, a bed and a roof over his head have not been known to him for a long time.  Diligent parishioners are likely also thinking about it when they see him involuntarily, leaving the church and heading to their cars.  It is in this short interval of their lives- on the road from the church to the car- barely noticing the bum, that they have a rare chance to appreciate what they have.  They think they appreciate that.  But they are wrong.  Because the knowledge of how it is - to live when you have nothing, is not available to them at all.  However, the absence of malice and unobtrusiveness of our holy fool brings him an insignificant, but such a pleasant income.  He thanks everyone for every penny thrown to him by a chance passerby.

It is interesting to observe: some throw coins in such a way that they bounce ringing.  It's as if they were throwing in anger.  In these cases, our homeless man climbs down from his stool, and crawls to collect them.  Others, on the contrary, purposefully slow down their pace to bend down to the very ground and drop a coin in with their clean hand, recently washed with soap and water, barely touching the edge of the tin.  And there are even those that put in silent, paper money, and usually they are, for some reason, men, but men are infrequent visitors in this place.  Therefore, even if it happnes, it is very rare.  And each case is remembered for a long time.

Suddenly, just such a man is heading towards the holy fool.  But instead of bending down and giving  him a hand-out, the man asks the fool where the toilet is.  In response, the homeless just raises his shoulders, noticeably slower than it could have done by someone else.  His muscles are permanently numb from the cold and uncomfortable sleeping.  How can he, a homeless man, know where the nearest toilet is?  Even if he really has to go, he will take care of his need right here, in the little forest in the backyard of the church.  Shrugging his shoulders, the fool also produces a prolonged incoherent sound, as if to complement his unequivocal answer.  The man walks away.  After a while, the man comes back, and again he has no intention of giving the homeless money, and instead asks him to come along.  The homeless is quite surprised - where is this gentleman calling him? Why? And, most importantly – why should he leave his warm, income-producing spot?  But the man insists, even taking the fool by the arm, helping him get up.  And leads him somewhere …  The path by the church is curvy, and there is a metal fence along it.  Approaching the exit from the church's property with the man, the homeless notices two strange objects that appeared here only recently.  Previously, he simply did not notice! The objects resembled cabins, were connected with wires, and were united in an unknown way by a woman sitting between them on a white plastic chair.
Here are the toilets! Kindly try, - says the man and pushes the fool forward.  The woman in the chair notices them and visibly cheeres up.
10 rubles! - she states importantly, and for greater importance raises herself up slightly, putting her book the cover up on one knee. 

The fool hesitates, he has never found himself in such a situation.  Attending to his needs in the blue booth is both exciting and a little scary.  The man hurriedly shoves a 10-ruble bill to the woman on a plastic chair and again pushes the homeless to the cabin.  In this moment, full of highest emotion, the homeless's eye starts itching, and up comes an image of a little house he sometimes, infrequently, dreams of.  In this house, he is safe and warm, and no one can hurt or bother him there. The homeless man takes a step forward, coming very closely to the threshold of the blue house-cabin, and, as if in a spasm, crosses himself.

***

Text on screen  «WHO do you YOU pray TO?»