Александр Воропаев
A Chair for the Chief of Police

Translated from Russian by Julia Stacey

“Alright Cozy, leave your fairy tales for this evening, at that time we will listen to you with pleasure, since TV does not work anyway. For now, though, stop babbling and keep cleaning. It’s almost time to open the shop, and, perhaps, Herr Renck will remember his little whim and find time to drop by after all.”

“My name is Asinak Hook, Herr Stolz.”

“What? What kind of a name is that? I can't even say it. I told you already, I am going to call you Cozy”, said the old man irritably. “Get to work and remember that dishes are waiting for you in the kitchen. And they won't wash themselves as in the old days. Oh! What have I done to deserve all this in my old age? After all, I should be living a life of leisure in retirement.

Shop owner Bruno Stolz shuffled towards the stairs to the second, master's, floor. He was still a very strong man and could walk normally, lifting his feet, as expected, above the floor, but after the Reunification, he adapted an image of a person burdened with life and deceived by fate. Since then, he has been working on perfecting the image.

By the stairs, the old man stopped, turned his bald head crowned with a band of hair over his ears, and looked suspiciously at the boy.

“You do remember that you are not allowed to approach the English chair, don’t you?” He asked with steal in his voice and raising his hooked finger sternly.

“Of course, I do, Herr Stolz.” The boy's face wore an expression of meek obedience. Ears turned innocently pink on his large head, more suitable for a much taller teenager. Cozy was thin and barely reached the second button on the shopkeeper's waistcoat.

This boy’s answer but, perhaps more importantly, his intonation, appeared to satisfy the old man. His finger swayed in the air and sank. Bruno’s dry hand gripped the stair railing and he silently shuffled upstairs, thinking to himself that it was worthwhile reminding the boy once again how grateful he should be for finding shelter with such a kind master. And this at a time when housing in Parchem is becoming more expensive with each passing week. Albeit, Cozy lived in a dark closet that looks more like a wardrobe. Actually, it used to be the kitchen pantry for cans and dry food. Truth be told, the boy does not ask for any payment for his work, eats like a bird and hardly sleeps. Nonetheless…

The old man reached the upstairs landing, walked along the corridor and found himself in a large room with windows on three sides. After his wife died, this room served as his bedroom, study and living room.

“Yet how strange are these Former people”, thought Bruno. “Cozy said he was from the Northwest Territory. It is somewhere downstream on the Elde, a week or two on foot. And they use such strange names! Could they be Slavic, or something?”

Nowadays people flocked to Parchim from all over the Eastern Reach. Why merchants come was understandable and Bruno did not mind them. The rest of them come to escape hunger, misfortunes, and perhaps even their fate. They were looking for happiness in the New City, among the New People. Would they find it here?

Herr Stolz went up to the window overlooking the courtyard, bent down and stared openly wondering what his lodger was up to. Merchant Uno Kutasov was also one of the Former people, but a very respectable and courteous gentleman as such. It was a pleasure to talk with such a person. He always listened, sympathized, gave advice. He was a bit tight fisted though. He rented the entire rear extension, but managed to negotiate a ridiculously low payment. He won't get off that cheap next time!

The dark-bearded merchant, dressed, for some reason, in two jackets, one on top of the other, observed as his people loaded a wagon. The canvas-roofed buggy was harnessed by two roan horses. Bruno Stolz could not make out what exactly the workers were loading. All of the goods were covered and wrapped in the same canvas as the roof. But it was not difficult to surmise what could be there… ordinary things from the past. Everything that had been of little value before, but now, in this big world, was worth good money. Glass, plastic, fabrics, the brighter the better, mirrors. Yes, lots of different things. These days, one could even sell a piece glass, even a shard. Here people did not know how to bargain and paid in gold and silver. And how makeup was valued! Even the cheap stuff! Who would have thought!? It was not for nothing that in the very first days the city council took possession of large cosmetics stores along with pharmacies. These were whole chains of stores. Their owners were missing, and nobody knew where they were.

The old man got tired of staring into the yard and went to his chair. With his usual longing he looked at the black rectangle of the TV and the remote on the coffee table. This was the main misfortune after the Event. The electronics did not function any more. None at all! Well, the phones made static noises for a while but that was it. Young people, of course, still cried over their smartphones, but he didn’t give a damn about that. Not being able to watch television, on the other hand, that was a true calamity. Now people had to entertain each other with stories in the evenings. Take this kid from the Northwest. He had a lot of stories, all of them about all sorts of fantastical things. He was very amusing. Only it was not entirely clear whether he spoke the truth or made things up. Nobody knew anything for sure any more.

Bruno suddenly remembered Otto Renk. He got off his chair and went to the window facing the street. He looked at his beloved Fritz-Reuter-Strasse nostalgically. Too many different kinds of people were moving along the street. Not less than half were all sorts of visitors from the surrounding provinces. They could not be confused with anyone else. Even though they were dressed in a variety of clothes, all the same, they looked like the characters of Brueghel. Medieval ruffians, all of them!

Bruno looked towards the city center and sighed. The castle of Lord Vex was not visible from here. He still hoped that His Grace would travel via Lützer Strasse on his way to inspect the construction of the fortress wall and, perhaps, be reminded of Stolz’s furniture shop. Bruno was even prepared to run out into the street and wave his hand in greeting. Herr Chief of Police would certainly remember Bruno and the armchair he had liked so much.

Oh, how Bruno missed the good old days! In the past, at least twice, and sometimes three times a week, particularly if the police chief had a payday, Otto Renck personally visited Bruno’s shop. He came alone, unaccompanied, like an ordinary citizen. He stood for a long time near his favorite English chair, and, possibly, for the hundredth time listen to Bruno describe the advantages of acquiring this wonderful piece of furniture.

“Look at the upholstery,” Stolz said affectionately. “You touch it!”

The chief of police touched it cautiously. “Don’t be shy, chief,” Stolz laughed. “Sit down and try it for a size. What do you think? Does is feel like a replica? No! I assure you; this is a genuine Victorian armchair with the original upholstery. Don't be skeptical because it looks so fresh. Do you know what it is stuffed with?”

Police chief obediently muttered the answer he had heard many times.

“You are absolutely correct. It is real horsehair. Noone makes this kind of furniture nowadays. You won't find this anywhere.”

“Still, the price is a bit high for me”, Renk said and got up reluctantly.

Bruno politely sat him back down. “I must give it some more thought and discuss it with my sister. After all, there is a very important question of where it should be placed.” Renk raised light colored, barely noticeable eyebrows on his plump face.

“It will improve the appearance of the whole house,” pressed Stolz.

“I don’t know… It’s so very bright. What would people think when they see me carry it down the street. Everyone will be watching.”

Incredulous, Stolz threw up his hands in the air.

“Certainly, you would not carry it yourself. How could you even think that, Otto!? Here, look at these wonderful wings. Do you see them? Do you remember seeing the same kind of chair in the Sherlock Holmes movie? It is so very comfortable. You can lay your head down and take a nap in front of TV.”

Such conversations eventually became enjoyable. The two of them even became friends, a city councilor and shop owner Bruno Stolz and the Parhima Police Chief Otto Renck.

Bruno watched a hay cart passing by his windows. The haystack was so high it almost reached the gutter. It was sinched on all four sides with an orange rope, yet swayed dangerously all the same. Stolz startled out of his reverie as he suddenly remembered his employee Cozy. Stolz hurried downstairs. The ground floor, the shop and the corner counter were all perfectly in order, tidy and clean. Shuffling, Bruno turned to go to the kitchen. He needed to make sure the boy was not shirking his work. He almost reached the shop door when he heard a sound. Herr Stolz turned his head towards the display window. Utterly unbelievable! That big-headed tadpole Cozy was once again sitting in the English chair mindlessly twisting a toy puzzle in his hands. The brightly colored plastic contraption could only be of interest to a preschool child and no one older! Herr Stolz personally studied it for the first time now, having snatched it out of Cozy's hands. Only such a simple-minded nitwit can mess with it endlessly!

“Cozy!” barked the old man. The boy jolted up and was on his feet in an instant. “What did I tell you about sitting in the English chair? And didn’t I tell you to finish your work?”

“But, sir”, the boy stammered. “I did everything as you told me to. I washed the dishes and dusted everything.”

“Follow me!” The old man put his hands behind his back and headed to the kitchen.

The kid was not lying. He really had washed the dishes and dried them before putting them on the dish rack. Albeit, the floor could have been swept more carefully. He had missed a few spots here and there. After pointing out the missed spots, Stolz walked to the door. In his mind, he went over tasks that could be safely entrusted to this guileless peasant seemingly stuck in the Middle Ages.

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