The last few days had been both impressive and depressing for Johann. He had gained a certain impression of historical and modern Moscow in a very short time. And although he still didn't like the prefabricated buildings any better, he understood that they had become a symbol of state care for everyone. This was in deliberate contrast to the ostentatious buildings of the tsars, whose palaces had stood next to the huts of the ordinary people and had therefore been separated by a wall as a screen. Every day, Aleksandra had appeared at his house punctually at eight thirty and had brought him various documents that fitted his research topic without difficulty. Shakhlikov had translated. The joint lunches and dinners were accompanied by casual conversations that almost gave the impression that he was doing research in Vienna or Rome.
And yet the courteous care was also oppressive. Shakhlikov was either with him to translate or next door to rest. He no longer seemed to have a private life. And as much as Johann appreciated the interpreter's cordial manner, he reproached himself for being the cause of this lack of privacy.
Even more difficult for him was dealing with Aleksandra. He could not deny that she was a fascinating woman. He did not mean her physical beauty, which she hid and emphasised with a clever choice of inconspicuous clothes. Rather, he was fascinated by the sharpness of her mind. He had expected a dull communist repeating rehearsed slogans. He had expected to be met and treated with an unreflective hostility; just as all his Roman lectures on the manifestation of all evils in communism had taught him. Even in Austria, where, after all, there were officially no parties but only the elected representatives of the estates, which reminded many of his fellow students in Rome strikingly of the Soviet system, he knew some who would have been quite interested in communist overthrows. Ideas such as abolishing church membership of the cultural council, which was responsible for school supervision and arts promotion and also directed the state radio and television system, had often been mentioned behind closed doors. The tradition that the deans of the theological faculties were always automatically the rectors of the universities was also criticised by some - possibly also due to wrong personnel decisions. Nevertheless, there was no one in Austria who would have advocated an annexation to the Soviet Union. The big neighbour to the east was respected and accepted as a trading partner, but nothing more. Hardly any Austrian students took advantage of the exchange places offered every year at the universities in Moscow, Minsk, Kiev, Omsk or Tbilisi. Aleksandra was both an ardent communist and a strict-minded scientist, which Johann found completely incomprehensible. Interestingly, she had expressed exactly the same opinion to him at dinner last night: It was incomprehensible how a person of the 20th century with anything other than historical interest could read two thousand year old texts and live his life according to them.
Johann was now convinced of one thing at least: Aleksandra was not out to seduce him and thereby compromise him. The very thought of it, which he had had at the first meeting at the Moscow railway station, now made him feel sorry. He had involuntarily adopted all those prejudices and clichés because of which he always ridiculed the novels his fellow British student James loved to read. Every day he spent with Aleksandra, he thought he understood better the motives behind her perception of the world as she described it: the blatant exploitation and poverty of millions of people in the European colonies, the injustice in the distribution of property in the Western world, the hierarchisation of society through private property. But all these things were also abhorrent to Johann. He had to admit that through the centuries and even in the present, the Church did not have the power to change this, but at the same time sometimes, for fear of state repression or financial loss, it only raised its voice very quietly even where it absolutely had to. He had referred to the numerous religious schools and hospitals that were open to all free of charge in Austria, at least to all Catholics, as he had admitted when asked by Aleksandra.
According to the schedule Aleksandra had presented to him, Sunday was at his free disposal. He had nevertheless gladly accepted her offer to drop by at half past five and pick him up for an evening tour of the Tretyakov Gallery.
At five o'clock Shakhlikov came into his study. "Good evening, Doctor." Johann had been so engrossed in reading a textbook on Marxism-Leninism that he had not noticed Shakhlikov's entrance.
"Good evening, Mr. Shakhlikov. Is it time for our excursion yet?"
Shakhlikov shook his head, "No, I just wanted to stop by a little early to see if there was anything else you might need?"
Johann pointed to the book, "I'm going to ask Doctor Piatnitskaya today about the deeper meaning of a passage of text that I don't and can't make sense of: In the book 'The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State' Friedrich Engels writes that through the communist revolution the family loses its importance for the production and reproduction of man: 'The old society, based on sex unions, is blown up in the collision of the newly developed classes; in its place comes a new society, united in the state, whose subunits are no longer sex unions but local unions, a society in which the family order is completely dominated by the property order, and in which those class antagonisms and class struggles now freely unfold, of which the content of all written history up to now consists'." Johann had written this sentence on a small piece of paper in order to be able to reproduce it correctly. "For me this is very strange, because in our view the family is precisely the place where the child grows into the order of the state and adult thought, is educated and formed."
Shakhlikov looked at the piece of paper that Johann pushed towards him, thought for a moment and replied: "I find it interesting that you of all people say that, who, because of your conviction, renounces your own family and offspring, who could then educate and form them in your sense. And isn't it even more strange that women in monasteries renounce their role as mothers. I mean, don't get me wrong, but if a few men abstain from the work of procreation, that's not such a big problem, because the rest of the men can do their 'work', but if women stop bearing children, every society perishes. In the Soviet Union, attempts are made to give women the opportunity to fulfil their work and motherhood at the same time: The state takes care of the upbringing and education of the children, the woman can pursue her work in peace. That is good for her and good for the state. And if one thinks this idea even further - which, however, will probably only be possible in the next generation, which is no longer handicapped by millennia of indoctrination - the institute of the classical family will take care of itself: When the lifelong companionship of a man with a woman for the protection of their common offspring is no longer necessary, because these offspring are jointly protected by the state, then entirely new possibilities of freedom will open up. Any woman can be with any man - if you excuse directness - and bear children without any problems. No man would have to fear lawsuits and demands, no woman would have to fear being abandoned and socially excluded. Fatherhood and motherhood would become purely biological components as prerequisites for state care of the next generations. Moral and financial parenthood would be taken over by the state. Thus, men and women are both relieved and liberated at the same time. And yet, as part of the state, everyone shares in the responsibility for the children. But no longer just for their own children, but for all children. This paves the way for true equality. And everyone can make full use of their sexual possibilities. And satisfied people also work more diligently. Which again benefits the state."
Johann tried hard to follow this thought. Shakhlikov's carefree way of simply saying such things and even finding reasons for them was absolutely disarming at first.
Shakhlikov noticed Johann's silence and immediately added: "Excuse me, I didn't want to pre-empt the comrade's answer. I'm sure she can express the socialist concern of this text in clearer words."
Johann got up and went to the window. He tried strenuously to collect his innumerable counter-arguments. He wanted, even before Aleksandra's arrival, to show Shakhlikov argumentatively the fallacies of these remarks. But everything he could think of sounded like a moralising accusation that he had only forged this theory to justify his own relationship practice or, better, lack of relationship. And it was really none of Johann's business how his interpreter spent his free time. He therefore tried a humorous remark: "I admire your sacrifice for the state. It seems to me that your life is not much different from those of nuns who take care of and raise children who are not their own. Perhaps we can even find a parallel here."
Shakhlikov looked disconcerted for a moment.
"On a spiritual level," Johann added.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted the conversation; and both Johann and Shakhlikov were relieved at this relief. But in order not to come across, as he had done in many a conversation with Staff Sergeant Winter, as someone who cut off unpleasant enquiries with dogmatic statements, Johann added when Shakhlikov was already at the door: "I'm already very eager to continue the conversation with your comrade." Shakhlikov nodded, and Johann thought he noticed a mischievous smile on Shakhlikov's face.
After visiting the gallery, Aleksandra, Johann and Shakhlikov returned to the hotel room. Shakhlikov ordered dinner, which was served in the dining room shortly afterwards.
"I hope you enjoyed the gallery," Aleksandra opened the table conversation.
Johann replied, "It's fascinating that your museums don't charge admission. And with such a wealth of artworks that insurance and care must cost vast sums."
Aleksandra agreed: "In the past, these works of art were reserved for a small, privileged upper class. They financed the artists with the money they withheld from the poor. I have to admit that otherwise many of these paintings and sculptures would not exist. Nevertheless, it is only through their public viewing that these works have come to their true purpose."
"Whereby this publicity," Johann added, "came about through a rigorous policy of expropriation, as expressed by the signs next to many paintings referring to the former owner families. But we will probably not agree on the legitimacy of private property. Although I must admit that I now understand the concern better."
Shakhlikov cleared his throat and, after a questioning glance at Aleksandra, began to add something of his own to the translation of Johann's words.
Aleksandra's reaction to this remark made Johann pause: She laughed briefly, not without immediately checking herself again. "What did you tell her? Surely, I haven't done or said anything again to reinforce Comrade Piatnitskaya's prejudices against the archaic Romans?"
Shakhlikov assured himself with another glance at Aleksandra that he might also repeat what he had said in German: "I have taken the liberty of adding to the translation my observation that you might get into trouble after your return because you are beginning to share our view of things more and more; and our language: you spoke of Frau Doktor Piatnizkaja as 'comrade' for the first time today. And that after only two weeks' stay."
Johann thought hard. Had he really used the expression 'comrade'? Had he been so confused by the conversation about the alternative, family-less society that this expression had crossed his lips? "Don't worry, you can tell Doctor Piatnitskaya that, for all my efforts to understand the communist way of thinking and living, I am firm enough in my own tradition. And according to this, we are sisters and brothers because of our common descent. That can certainly be rendered as comrade."
