Izborsk Referendum and Baptism of the Moon

Olga Shcheglova (Boris Bidyaga)

SOVEREIGN APOCRYPHA

IZBORSK REFERENDUM AND BAPTISM OF THE MOON
A Satirical Farce in One Act


CHARACTERS:
* Aleksander The Boss: An aging prophet-writer wearing a white linen robe. Speaks with gasps, rolling his eyes.
* Aleksander The Therapist: Head of the "Evening Badgers" motorcycle club. A man wearing a leather vest on his bare torso and a bandana. Speaks with a raspy voice, thinks strategically.
* Holy Father Lunatic: The local priest. A brocade vestment is thrown over a camouflage jumpsuit. Holds a rocket-fueled censer in one hand and a GPS-navigator in the other.

(The Izborsk Hill. Roaring engines, smoke, the smell of incense and burning rubber. A roadside prayer cross is taped to a post with red, white, and blue electrical tape. Bikers on rusty "Ural" motorcycles are doing donuts around it. In the center, a gray boulder rests on a giant KamAZ truck tire).

Aleksander The Boss (arms wide open majestically, agitated):
— Do you hear it, Therapist?! Do you hear how the Izborsk ether of the Pskov region pierces our spiritual anchors?! This isn't just a hill, it’s the spaceport of the Universal Bossate!

Aleksander The Therapist (rasping into his helmet mic, revving the engine):
— Hardcore, Boss. The brothers from the Evening Badgers spent three days dragging this meteorite out of a Novgorod swamp. Pure iron-hard spirit, brother! I checked it out personally, took its pulse — this rock is ready to be integrated into the Russian Federation! A rock-solid diagnosis!

Aleksander The Boss (fondling the boulder gently):
— Oh, sacred selenite! The Americans flew there in their soulless tin cans, trampling the Moon with godless spacesuits… Mere dust! Today, we are executing a contactless hostile takeover of Earth’s satellite! We are bringing the Moon back to its home harbor! Father Lunatic, proceed with the ritual!

(Holy Father Lunatic steps forward, crossing his GPS-navigator).

Holy Father Lunatic:
— Listen, Boss, I've hit a canonical snag here. The prayer book doesn't have a liturgy for "The Blessing of Short and Medium-Range Celestial Bodies." What rate category should I choose for baptizing the Moon — as Pskov Region real estate, or as an individual taxpayer?

Aleksander The Boss:
— As a geopolitical entity, Holy Father! Baptize it as an ancient Russian parasite... paradise... critter!  Sprinkle this stone, and the holy water will beam straight into the Copernicus Crater via the Izborsk Club's quantum channels!

Aleksander The Therapist (nodding grimly):
— Damn straight, brother, these parasites are crawling everywhere lately like fleas on a dog... Especially in politics! Take Trump — absolute soulless critter! Our Evening Badgers have been hiding in their holes for six months because of his sanctions. High time we strike back with high-precision payloads of pure spirituality.

Aleksander The Boss (nervously adjusting his robe):
— I meant God's creature, Therapist! And stop distracting the priest from the orbital process! (into a megaphone) Evening Badgers! Kill the engines! The sacrament is about to begin. On your knees, badgers! We are taking the Moon onto the balance sheet of the Federal Property Agency! Based on the results of the nationwide Lunar Referendum! 80% "in favor" with a 62% turnout! Fall to your knees and marvel!

(The roar of the engines dies down. Only Therapist's heavy breathing can be heard).

Holy Father Lunatic (opens the book, swings the censer, and smacks the boulder with it):
— Removed from the jurisdiction of Elon Musk, blessed, sanctified, and privatized is this Moon, with all its seas of Abundance, Crises, and Overdue Payments… The spirit of NASA is hereby exorcised from it, the demonic Starlink satellites are cast out, and its American registration is annulled! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!

Aleksander The Boss (dropping to his knees):
— Done! Finally! An Orthodox Moon! Look at this granite — it’s weeping holy myrrh!

Holy Father Lunatic (whispering):
— Boss, that’s just diesel leaking from Therapist’s bike. Don’t rub it with your hands or you’ll wipe the grace off.

Aleksander The Therapist (crossing himself with his leather glove):
— It's all good, Father. Diesel is our ultimate spiritual anchor! Say, Boss, what if their lunar rovers cross onto our territory without a visa?

Aleksander The Boss (jumping up, eyes flashing):
— We slap them with a fine for illegal crossing! We’ll register the Izborsk Precinct Police Station on the dark side of the Moon! We’ll set up a checkpoint, open up some shawarma booths! Let them pay in hard currency for transit through Russian vacuum!

Aleksander The Therapist (grinning widely):
— Slick. And we’ll exile Rogozin up there — to paint the craters in Khokhloma folk style, brother! And we’ll put up a sign: "Riding without helmets permitted. Badgers only." Because a spacesuit is an infringement on the rights of free rodents, brother. We’ll dig such deep burrows on the Moon that even NASA will never dig us out!

Holy Father Lunatic (squinting up at the sky):
— Listen, strategists… Doesn't it matter that it’s daytime and the Moon isn't even visible? Where exactly did we blast that signal through the vacuum? I hope we didn't hit Pluto by mistake, I’ve got an un-sanctified parish out there…

Aleksander The Boss (grabbing the priest by the shoulders):
— That is the true grandeur, Father Lunatic! Needing to see the Moon with your eyes is for soulless astronomers. But we, the Russian people, believe in it even when a thick fog hangs over the Pskov region! The Moon isn't in outer space. It’s right here (beats his chest). Today, a small, sovereign Moon with a cardiac attachment has risen inside each and every one of us!

Aleksander The Therapist (smiling contentedly):
— Mount up, Evening Badgers! Get ready: tomorrow we baptize the Ursa Major constellation! The godmother of our ruling party! Our forest kin!

Aleksander The Boss:
— Magnificent, magnificent! All that’s left is to secure international recognition. We are immediately filing a note to the UN to extend the borders of the Pskov Region to the lunar orbit!

(Therapist kickstarts the bike, roaring in ecstasy, in unison with his engine. Holy Father Lunatic blesses the departing badgers with an empty bucket. Aleksander The Boss hugs the wet boulder, weeping softly with pure joy).

(Curtain.)

#OrthodoxMilitaryPutinism