Valentina Basan
Save Our Souls

Instamama

– Mom, I don't want to, I won't. I hate you; I don't want to do it.

– You are brute. You are beast. I said we're shooting another take. You did everything wrong. Everything. The sheep (followers in social media) won't believe that you like to eat it and play with it. You are bitch, you will eat it with pleasure. Come on, I'm filming, smile, scum, otherwise I'll tear your fucking mouth.

– Mom, Mom. I don't want to eat it, please don't touch me. I want to sleep. Let me go, please.

Seven-year-old Sonechka curled up on a new rug, sent recently by the company "Grushka-toy" for advertising. Her legs ached from the dermantine shoes her mother made her walk in. These shoes were too small for her, the company made a mistake with the size, since low-quality Chinese shoes were a few centimeters less from the declared standard. The feet were pierced with wild pain, as the soft baby bones were still forming and growing, and the bright pink shackles in rhinestones and sequins did not allow the fingers to straighten. Others have not been sent for advertising yet, and Kristina “Happymom”, her nickname on Instagram, was principled. Everything that can be obtained for free, she will receive for free, "fo free", as they said at the training on personal growth and development.

Naturally, the training was in Russian, during her nine classes, Kristina never learned English, but some words, such as "money", "open mind", "Come on" and "cash", she diligently wrote down in a handwriting in her, Kristina’s notebook.

To shoot her daughter on camera twenty-four hours a day, Kristina was taught by a coach for the same personal growth, Vita Freedom, and in the past, escort Vitalina Zapenko.

– Bunny, you can earn money right at home. Think about what you have that many women don't have? That's right, baby. You have a boy.

– A girl. I have a daughter and a husband, – Kristina corrected her timidly.

– Fuck your husband. All husbands are losers and beggars, if they don't earn a million and don't drive a Porsche, and a boy or a girl, what difference does it make if you can earn millions on it.

The hall of the small recreation center, where the training took place, buzzed approvingly. Wives and mothers in Chinese low quality jackets sweated and wanted a different life, without sausages from cheap store and promotional cottage cheese, which had the same relation to dairy products as success coach Vita Freedom – to education.

Sonechka's life from the age of five turned into endless smiles at the camera, praise of toys, reviews of things and goods.

Kristina filmed her every step, not allowing her to do something without the consent of her mother – director. The rating of reality shows on Instagram and on Youtube began to grow. The perfect mother of the perfect princess and dad is hanging out somewhere for show.

Sonechka's legs were very sore. She could not stand on them, because the curvature of the feet led to deformation.

– Brute, get up, I said get up!

Christina slapped her child on the back. She could not hit her face, the camera will quickly show bruises.

– Mommy, I don't want to eat this. My stomach hurts, – the girl turned pale and leaned against the wall of the toy house.

– Bastard, get up from the wires, you're breaking the scenery, get up, creature, I've been setting up the light in this part of the room all morning.

– Mom, my eyes hurt, I don't want to be photographed. Tummy. My tummy hurts.

Sonya was holding her stomach with a small hand. There was a sharp stench of excrement in the air. A huge red puddle spread out under the girl's ass.

– Bitch. What a bitch you are, – Kristina hit her daughter in the chest and she fell on the house like a rag doll.

– Mommy, my tummy!

Sonya tore the remains of the advertised product right into her lap.

Next day.

– Hello, this is Kristina. What did you send me? I ask, do you, your motherfuckers, want to poison my child? I don't care about the storage conditions, I'll sue you. I took everything on camera. There is a conclusion of doctors. No, worse. I'll write on Instagram, what a shitty you are! And your products are shit. How much? Shove your five hundred dollars up your ass. How much? Okay, I'll think about it.

A few days later.

– Hello everyone, guys! I am Sonechka, happydaughter and my mom, Kristina, happymom recommend you the best and most nutritious product in the world! Order now, the link is in the head of our profile!

Hype.

Sasha Rygotina went to Instagram and opened her profile. A million. The long-awaited million. Who are all these people? Fans? Haters? Watching? Two million pairs of eyes look at her every day. They watch her like a lab rat, what she eats, how she sleeps, where she walks, who she's friends with. When the rating of statistics starts to fall and views are reduced, she gives them food content, in fact, she is watching them, their reaction, they are rats behind glass, and from time to time she throws them a piece of meat in the form of a hype.

She liked this fashionable English word, she didn't even bother and translated it in a Google translator: hype. It's about her. A simple girl from the village, without manners, education and culture. She came to the district town, got a job as a waitress at the Golden Chest pub. After sleeping with a fat and bald client, Sasha bought herself the very first iPhone, the first sign of a successful girl. And by downloading the Instagram app, she discovered a new, beautiful, glamorous, rich world of chicks who ate lobsters on yachts, drank Veuve Clicquot champagne against the backdrop of European attractions and ordered coffee at Starbucks near Trump Tower.

– I want that too! Sasha whispered resolutely and registered under the nickname #sasharygotina#.

She put up a photo from the park. Against the background of yellow autumn leaves, which carefully warmed the slightly chilled ground with a blanket, stood an ordinary girl in blue jeans and a red faux fur coat. A dermontine shoulder bag with the logo of a famous brand screamed about poverty and bad taste. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail. Sasha received only one comment from her mom: "Daughter, you are beautiful!"

The girl resolutely clicked on the link to delete the account.

Nowadays.

“Alex Bystritskaya, you are super!”

“Subscribed to you, you are my ideal!”

“Awesome figure, baby!”

“Sleep with me, you dirty whore!”

“I hate you!”

“Love you!”

“You fucking scum, die!”

Sasha Rygotina did not like to read comments, but a hundred thousand laudatory reviews were colored with negativity. The most important thing is that even bad comments and hate (hate – v 1 to hate), gave her statistics, views, rating and advertising order. She deleted her first account five years ago and immediately created a new one, where she signed with a different name and put up a photo in panties and a bra.

The first steps were difficult; the videos were not funny and not beautiful. But people liked them. Here she shows how she shaves her legs, and here she shows how she scares an old lady and she (an old lady) falls to the ground from surprise. Next video where she puts on a transparent T-shirt and douses herself with milk, letting the cat lick her nipples.

For several years, Alex Bystritskaya amused her hamster subscribers (hamster – another name of fans and followers) as much as she could. They liked to absorb her irrepressible fantasy, wait for the next hype and trolling, comment, touch the famous hype instagram influencer.

She posted photos and videos where she gets a tattoo on her pubis, gets beauty injections without anesthesia, and last year she restored her virginity live and arranged an auction for her sale. Virginity was bought by a blogger from neighboring countries and they arranged the purchase and sale process almost online, hiding only the genitals, fearing to go into ban because of the guardians of morality and the policy of safe content.

For several years, Sasha moved from the district center to the regional center, and today she is moving to Moscow. She dreamed of a big city, the center of the world, that she would be rich and famous walking around Red Square and signing autographs. The amount of hamster (followers), as she called them, was growing, there was more and more advertising, but it was still not enough. She wanted to count not tens, but hundreds of thousands, not to rent a studio on the Arbat, but to buy it. She wanted not a Honda, but a BMW, although ideally she wanted a Bentley. Like those others, her idols with lobsters and Clicquot.

The content has become tougher, brighter, and more fun. Views were growing, but not as fast as she would wish, and she want a lot of money right now.

Last week, she asked subscribers which part of her body to pierce, the first place went to the nipple, the second to the clitoris, the earlobe was in last place. Vodka no longer helped, Sasha had been on cocaine for a long time and tightly, which gave her the strength to work and gush with ideas.

The nipple still hurt and seemed to be inflamed, and the breast, like her whole body, made for advertising of new plastic surgery center, bothered and ached even more. The plastic surgeon turned out to be a novice trainee and something went wrong during the operation. The stitches were leaking and bleeding, so Alex took pictures of her in a tight bra, hamsters loved it.

Yesterday she collected several million views by drinking a cocktail of her own urine and having a lemon snack.

Today she has her period according to the plan. Pads and tampons she has already shown, because followers need something sharp. For example, lick the finger or smear blood on the face.

And tomorrow she will come up with something with a cat, for example, like last time. She will secretly hurt a little animal and with tears in her eyes she will fly by taxi to the vet clinic that ordered her advertising. Of couse, she will do it on camera live broadcasting. Here it turned out badly with the dog, under cocaine she did not calculate the blow and fatally injured the dog, which she so heroically saved on camera from a fake dog hater.

In the vet clinic, death was pronounced; Sasha was so bitterly grieved in stories that money began to come to the card from compassionate people. The blogger arranged a lavish funeral for the unfortunate corpse, ordered cremation and buried it in a specially designated place in the pet cemetery. She wore black for another week and started good morning in her underpants and in tears.

The hype with the dog began to be forgotten and the elite kennel gave her a new victim for advertising, a four-month-old puppy that no one wanted to buy because of a small defect on the paw. The dog spent the whole day howling in the pantry until the neighbors did not complain about Sasha to the landlady. Rygotina took the dog back to the kennel, threatening to make them anti-advertising forever with their little amount of followers on Instagram. Where are they? And where is she with her million? And the million is growing. That's the main thing. The most important thing in the life of Sasha Rygotina, ugh, Alex Bystritskaya.

She looked in the mirror, her face was gray, bloated from free fillers, filters and makeup helped her out in Instragram, she had to go back to the cosmetologist, rejuvenate, there last week she was invited to one. Sasha wiped the white dust under her nose and clicked on the coveted Insta icon. The monthly video has gained more than three million views, more than the video with a cocktail of urine.

"Alex Bystritskaya, you are a terrible person, for the sake of popularity you are ready for anything, probably to eat your own shit or kill your own mother, and you are a freak!"

She did not like the number of likes of this comment. Many. Even too much. She didn't like thinking hamsters. Such people started to rebel, complain about the page, call for a boycott and unsubscribe, for Sasha it was like death.

She wrote an answer under the comment, muttering it under her breath.

“Freaks are you. You visit my page, you watch me 24 hours a day, you expect stories and videos from me, and you vote and choose what you are interested in. You demand more and more, because it's always not enough for you. I am the most scandalous blogger thanks to you, because all of you are my viewers”.

The comment immediately rose to the top. She was showered with praises and emoticons, hearts, declarations of love and vows of loyalty, comparisons with other bloggers in favor of Alex and much more. But Sasha didn't read it anymore. She was thinking about that comment, he stuck a thorn in her head and she didn't want to pull it out.

Alex Bystritskaya opened the phone book and pressed the call button:

– Hello, Mom. Hello. I'll come to you for a week or two. Yeah. I'm tired of Moscow; I want to change the situation.

Natural.

Dinara Gafurova was sitting near the doors of the intensive care unit, white as the wall against which she leaned her back.

– Live, live, live! Please, Allah Almighty, Lord, Universe, and Mother of God, just live!

A year ago.

– My sunbeams, my people of Nature and Goodness, my Universe, are you ready to realize your essence? Are you ready to become a part of Mother Nature?

– Yes, we are ready, – Dinara shouted and stroked her huge belly, – we are ready and happy.

– Are you ready to give up the poisons that poison us, from hospitals and clinics where we are killed, from living in concrete boxes and riding in iron cans?

– Yes, – Dinara shouted and looked at the priestess of Light and Goodness, Valeria Johnson, (her real surname was Sviridenko), with fascination.

– I will teach you to talk to your precious yoni (vagina) and generate energy, I will teach you to live in a flow with the universe, I will teach you to be healthy and live up to one hundred and fifty years. Our body has no analogues either in the animal or in the plant world. It regenerates itself and develops protection against all diseases, I will tell you about the treatment with the power of thought and what nature gives us.

Lera Sviridenko, a native of the glorious city of Odessa near the Black Sea, was conditionally convicted of fraud. Having narrowly escaped prison, she met an American of Russian origin and moved to the sunny state of California. Having founded the sect of the Holy Sun, she urged parishioners to donate money monthly to generate solar energy, love and health. Having received several complaints and police records for illegal activities, Valeria has been closely engaged in social networks and promoting her brand "Sunny World" on Instagram. She gave birth to a baby live in her bathroom, which caused a stir and a huge number of followers of the "Life without Doctors" movement.

She wrote two books "Open the sun in your yoni" and the second "Yoni of my soul", created a course on yoni mastery and a master class "Storage and preparation of placenta at home".

Having received a furious response on the social network, entrepreneur Valeria Johnson finished her cigarette and finished a bottle of French red wine.

– These idiots fall for such nonsense; listen to what they write to me, Rob. But most importantly, they buy tickets to my trainings for a hundred dollars, they have a monthly salary.

– Dear, we live in a luxurious mansion, we go to Las Vegas for the weekend, we have full medical insurance, because we have four higher educations for two. If you were poor and stupid, you would also want to get a key to the apartment where the money is for a hundred dollars.

– Not money, dear, but love and health!

Valeria laughed loudly and began booking tickets to several countries of the post-Soviet space.

– You are clever and beautiful, you are nature, you are God, only you can become happy and healthy with the power of thought. Your chakras are open; the life inside you will soon ripen and be born without doctors and other destroyers of nature. Remember, meat is evil. And you don't need fish, dairy products and eggs. Our goal is to eat raw fruits and vegetables, that's what nature wants, it gives us strength and sun, light and reason. Everything created by nature is good; everything created by man will lead to the end of humanity. Work out your desires, feelings, realize the power of your thoughts, unity with nature, and open your yoni towards the sun. Eat fruits and vegetables, drink clean, and spring water and the body will thank you!

– And my next course, which I developed for future and present mothers, is called "Don't let the doctors take your child into their hands", it costs even cheaper now, only fifty dollars, you can buy the course by clicking on my link on Instagram.

Dinara Gafurova diligently performed all the tasks of the guru from the USA. She bought a maternity course, learned books about yoni and every day tried to look not only into herself, but also where Valeria Johnson's inexhaustible imagination and thirst for money taught. Dinara gave birth to a boy in the bathroom, in a removable tiny one-bedroom in a hood on the outskirts of Moscow. Every day she chewed cucumber with all her might and tried not to look at sausages made of soy, buckwheat and rice. Dinara's husband Said Gafurov did not share his wife's hobbies, moreover, every day he complained to his relatives about the quirks and hobbies of his half. Relatives shook their heads, ate fatty lamb pilaf and washed it down with green tea. After giving birth in the bathroom, Said threatened Dinara with a divorce, but felt sorry for the little and long-awaited son. Working as a cook in a restaurant, Said saw the family sleeping only late at night when he returned from his shift. He had to support not only them, but also send some of the money to relatives back home.

Dinara was engaged in self-development and unity with nature. The son was born tiny and very weak, did not take a breast for a long time, turned blue and choked with screaming. Said begged Dinara to call a doctor, but the girl stood her ground – doctors are the biggest evil in the world. Returning from work around midnight, Said listened to the sleeping lump, his son, his baby was not breathing.

Dinara Gafurova was sitting near the doors of the intensive care unit, white as the wall against which she leaned her back.

– Live, live, live! Please, Allah Almighty, Lord, Universe, and Mother of God, just live!

The door of the intensive care unit opened. Dinara jumped up.

– Are you a mother? – The doctor, a woman in her sixties, took off her gloves, a cap, and then she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes for a long time.

– Doctor, how is my son? Dinara was sobbing hysterically and trying to calm her trembling hands.

– Your son is already well. Stable. He has a postpartum injury. It was necessary to go to the hospital immediately, he had severe anemia, and most likely there was oxygen starvation during childbirth. The child is not registered anywhere. Where did you give birth to him? In Uzbekistan, that he is not listed in the lists of newborns?

– No. In the bathroom. In my flat.

The Doctor looked into Dinara's eyes for a very long time. Probably a whole minute. The girl could not stand it and lowered her head. The doctor sighed and walked down the long corridor towards the receiver.

– Doctor, wait, thank you. Thanks.

– Today your son was saved. Pumped out. And yesterday, the baby died, three years old, also the same conscious raw food eater fed the child to complete exhaustion with pine needles and leaves from trees, the body could not cope with an elementary cold, the temperature did not knock down for several days, they brought almost a corpse here, and took it away after the fact. And we are the doctors to blame; and this so called mother screamed here that her child was killed.

– I won't do it anymore, – Dinara squeezed tears in herself, but they traitorously rolled out of her eyes, painfully burning the skin of her frozen cheeks, – I promise you. Forgive me.

– Is there an education? A job? Specialty?

Dinara shook her head negatively.

– Come to us as a cleaner, you will enter a technical school; I will transfer you as a nurse after graduating the nurse school. We have a round-the-clock nursery here for infants, anyway, he needs to recover for six months under the supervision of doctors, and here you will have work and connection with your son.

The girl nodded vigorously, wiping away the tears that blurred her eyes.

– Thank you, – she bent down to kiss her hand, but the doctor pulled her back.

– That's enough. Pull yourself together. Come with me, I'll give you books to read from cover to cover. Go to work tomorrow morning. We have a nurse on a binge, you will help me in cabinet.

Dinara ran beside the doctor like a faithful dog. She wrote a message to Said on the go that everything was fine, and after thinking for a second, deleted the Instagram app from her phone forever.

The Human Circus.

Robert with tears in his eyes from pain and humiliation, rubbed his wrists, which had changed from blood-red to a deep purple hue. The places where the skin came into contact with the metal of the handcuffs rotted and abscessed. Pus protruded from larger wounds under pressure, Robert was very afraid that his hand would rot and washed the wounds in a bowl with stagnant, smelly water, which was put in his drinking cage. The bowl was old and broken, the previous occupant of the cage beat this bowl on the concrete floor when he went crazy and attacked the Caretaker. The food bowl was filled with something expired and smelly to the point of vomiting. But never mind, Robert will eat it later, when his stomach is cramped with hunger and a painful spasm. It was always easier for him to eat, or rather to swallow this something, when he crawled up to the grate, where a small door opened and a hairy paw with claws handed him a bowl filled with so-called food, something that does not let him die of starvation. The same paw was pouring water from a bottle into his drinking bowl. He always enjoyed the water more.

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