poor would be on the fringes, hidden from view, and that it was easy to be impressed by symbols of wealth in the center of Manhattan. All the same, his relentless emphasis on Party dogma was tedious. Of themany people involved in the tour, he was the person she mistrusted the most.
Mikael strode past Zoya, across to the television, turning it off with an angry flick of his wrist:
—
I told you: no television. It’s propaganda. And you’re lapping it up. They’re treating you like you’re a fool and you’re behaving like one.
At first Zoya had tried to ignore him as much as possible. Since that ploy hadn’t worked, she’d decided it was more fun to irritate him:
—
I can watch something without being brainwashed.
—
Have you ever watched television before? Do you think they haven’t put a lot of thought into the programs they’re showing you? This isn’t real television that the American citizen will watch—it has been created just for you, along with the contents of that bedroom bar.
In their rooms they had found a small refrigerator stocked with Coca-Cola, strawberry-and-cream-flavored candy, and chocolate bars. A note, kindly translated into Russian, explained that the contents were free and were to be enjoyed with the hotel’s compliments. Zoya had moved with lightning speed, drinking the soda before squirreling away the rest of the chocolate. By the time Mikael arrived to confiscate the contents none remained. He’d been furious and conducted a thorough search of their room, failing to find anything, since Zoya had lined all the candy and chocolate outside along the window ledge. Leo would’ve been proud.
Mikael was now working himself into a fresh temper about the television, which he had unplugged, as if Zoya would not be able to plug it back again:
—
Do not underestimate the power of their programs. They serve to numb the mind of their citizens. It is not mere entertainment: It is a key weapon in maintaining their authority. Thecitizens of this country are given idiotic escapism in order to prevent them asking deeper questions.
Though Zoya enjoyed upsetting him, finding him entertaining when he was angry, the joke quickly grew tedious and she moved to the door as a way of hastening his departure. He looked about the room:
—
Where is Elena?
—
In the bathroom. She is shitting. As an insult to the Americans—you should be pleased.
He was embarrassed:
—
You’re only on this trip because of your mother. It was a mistake to bring you. You are quite unlike your sister. Practice your songs. Tonight’s concert is important.
With that, he left.
Zoya slammed the door shut, angry at the comparison he’d made between her and Elena. Like most Party officials, he ruled by creating divides between people, families and friends. She was closer to her sister than anyone alive and she would not allow any agent of the State to imply otherwise. She pressed her ear to the door to make sure he’d gone. He was the kind of man who’d linger and eavesdrop to find out what people thought of him. Unable to hear anything, she crouched down, peering through the crack under the door. There were no shadows, just a strip of light.
Passing the bathroom, she called out to her sister:
—
You okay in there?
Elena’s voice was faint:
—
I’ll be out in a second.
She’d been in there for a while. Zoya plugged the television cable back into the socket and returned to the edge of the bed and turned it back on, lowering the volume only slightly. Maybe the American programs were supposed to brainwash the audience. But only someone brainwashed by the Kremlin wouldn’t be curious.
E VEN THOUGH THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT in her stomach, Elena felt as if she wanted to be sick again. She filled a glass with water and rinsed her mouth. Desperately thirsty, yet unsure whether she could manage even a sip, she spat out the water. She took one of the towels, drying her face, composing herself. She was shocked at how
Mikael strode past Zoya, across to the television, turning it off with an angry flick of his wrist:
—
I told you: no television. It’s propaganda. And you’re lapping it up. They’re treating you like you’re a fool and you’re behaving like one.
At first Zoya had tried to ignore him as much as possible. Since that ploy hadn’t worked, she’d decided it was more fun to irritate him:
—
I can watch something without being brainwashed.
—
Have you ever watched television before? Do you think they haven’t put a lot of thought into the programs they’re showing you? This isn’t real television that the American citizen will watch—it has been created just for you, along with the contents of that bedroom bar.
In their rooms they had found a small refrigerator stocked with Coca-Cola, strawberry-and-cream-flavored candy, and chocolate bars. A note, kindly translated into Russian, explained that the contents were free and were to be enjoyed with the hotel’s compliments. Zoya had moved with lightning speed, drinking the soda before squirreling away the rest of the chocolate. By the time Mikael arrived to confiscate the contents none remained. He’d been furious and conducted a thorough search of their room, failing to find anything, since Zoya had lined all the candy and chocolate outside along the window ledge. Leo would’ve been proud.
Mikael was now working himself into a fresh temper about the television, which he had unplugged, as if Zoya would not be able to plug it back again:
—
Do not underestimate the power of their programs. They serve to numb the mind of their citizens. It is not mere entertainment: It is a key weapon in maintaining their authority. Thecitizens of this country are given idiotic escapism in order to prevent them asking deeper questions.
Though Zoya enjoyed upsetting him, finding him entertaining when he was angry, the joke quickly grew tedious and she moved to the door as a way of hastening his departure. He looked about the room:
—
Where is Elena?
—
In the bathroom. She is shitting. As an insult to the Americans—you should be pleased.
He was embarrassed:
—
You’re only on this trip because of your mother. It was a mistake to bring you. You are quite unlike your sister. Practice your songs. Tonight’s concert is important.
With that, he left.
Zoya slammed the door shut, angry at the comparison he’d made between her and Elena. Like most Party officials, he ruled by creating divides between people, families and friends. She was closer to her sister than anyone alive and she would not allow any agent of the State to imply otherwise. She pressed her ear to the door to make sure he’d gone. He was the kind of man who’d linger and eavesdrop to find out what people thought of him. Unable to hear anything, she crouched down, peering through the crack under the door. There were no shadows, just a strip of light.
Passing the bathroom, she called out to her sister:
—
You okay in there?
Elena’s voice was faint:
—
I’ll be out in a second.
She’d been in there for a while. Zoya plugged the television cable back into the socket and returned to the edge of the bed and turned it back on, lowering the volume only slightly. Maybe the American programs were supposed to brainwash the audience. But only someone brainwashed by the Kremlin wouldn’t be curious.
E VEN THOUGH THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT in her stomach, Elena felt as if she wanted to be sick again. She filled a glass with water and rinsed her mouth. Desperately thirsty, yet unsure whether she could manage even a sip, she spat out the water. She took one of the towels, drying her face, composing herself. She was shocked at how
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