Dinner
As dinner wound down, Stacy’s teammates sat around and relaxed, chatting. They talked about random things. Stacy wasn’t great at making small talk, but preferred to be a listener.
Now that she had more time to think about it, Stacy realized what she had done subconsciously since young: cultivate an atmosphere intended to make people feel comfortable. Smiling, projecting kindness and patience, giving off reassuring vibes, expressing concern about the welfare of others… That way they would open up and just talk about whatever they felt like saying.
This was the basis of the Tranquility Aura that her Mentors and Benefactors alluded to. The basis of her success as a journalist.
And it really came from her parents and grandparents.
As minority ethnicities in a Soviet Union dominated by Stalinist paranoia, they were extra vulnerable. So it was important to always make the people in power feel comfortable about you.
And it was this feeling of comfort and ease, that led to Soviet officials deciding that Stacy’s family would make good cultural diplomats.
And that was how Stacy’s family could be sent to New York and given a high degree of freedom. And the family was reasonably successful at making friends with people from other countries, because they made others feel comfortable. They did not sound or look like rigid, serious, melancholy Russians, so they were able to do things that other Soviet diplomats could not. And since it was a family thing, that was more reason to keep them together as a family. Even if members had to be rotated at short notice to keep them from defecting. But the children usually stayed in New York, Stacy was born and raised, and she had opportunities to visit museums and libraries which nobody else had.
Possibly even Boris Yeltsin could not have visited the same museums and libraries in 1989 without paying a political price.
Dishwasher and Dom
After dinner, Stacy was doing the dishes in the kitchen.
She had noticed one thing about the fittings in the MMM. There was no dishwasher.
Having spent years in the United States, Stacy knew that dishwashers were commonplace in developed countries.
However, Stacy didn’t have the habit of using a dishwasher. Her family never owned one in New York. Low level diplomats and cultural attaches on the Soviet government’s pay didn’t get that much allowance to use decadent capitalist products.
And frankly, was it necessary to begin with?
Dishwashers could never do all the work on their own anyway. Human input was necessary to give a first round cleaning.
So the human might as well do a full cleaning and dispense with the dishwasher. It was an unnecessary use of resources – hot water, electricity and time.
But all this logic wasn’t shared by Americans, who had been socialized possibly with the aid of Mind spells, to feel that civilized people must use a dishwasher.
So the fact that the MMM wasn’t equipped with a dishwasher… did that mean the MMM was not designed by an American?
Her journalist instincts tingling, Stacy had checked out some trivia using the satellite internet.
Germany, Sweden and the Netherlands had high levels of dishwasher usage. Quite unlikely that a designer from these countries would neglect to install a dishwasher.
…
Wait. Even if the designer came from a country with a low level of dishwasher usage – such as Romania – he should still install a dishwasher. Dishwasher usage was ingrained in European culture. The MMM was already so well thought out and equipped, and the Benefactors clearly had funds, so surely they would install everything they considered useful.
There had been no skimping on kitchen equipment. An incredible variety was available, ranging from rice cookers and sushi mats, to steamers and straw baskets for glutinous rice, to a tadka pan, a pasta machine and paellera. Probably some – not just one – professional cooks had been consulted.
Then why no dishwasher? Unless the designer came from a culture where the dishwasher was not used?
With this in mind, Stacy suspected that this designer didn’t come from North America or Europe.
Maybe the designer was Japanese. Or Russian? Or Arab?
…
Japanese seemed most likely. If only because the toilets on board were Japanese. No matter how Westernized and globalized Japanese designers and architects were, they would prefer Japanese toilets because these were the best…
While thinking these random thoughts to herself, Stacy finished washing the dishes and placed them on the drying racks. She dried her hands and started becoming aware of the conversation that her teammates were engaged in.
…
“Dom-2,” Naz was speaking.
“No, Dom-3,” Marilyn replied.
“Nah, since we can’t go home anymore, this is now our home. Dom-1,” Angel said.
Stacy had not heard the start of this conversation, but she was beginning to get intrigued. “Care to let me know what is this all about?”
“We started talking about home away from home.”
“Actually we started talking randomly. Just chit-chatting. And Naz said we are like Dom-2.”
“Isn’t that what you do in Dom-2? Build a home with others?”
Stacy’s eyes were darting from left to right at the flow of the conversation. But she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. And Naz noticed.
“Wait, have you ever watched Dom-2 before? Do you know what we’re talking about?”
“I’m not that in touch with popular culture…”
“Never watched Dom-2, I can believe. But never heard of it?”
“You’re, or at least were, considered a part of the media industry!” Angel could not believe it.
“Ah… I have heard of it…” Stacy said vaguely. Just that she had never paid attention to whatever soap opera or so-called reality show that the networks produced. As an academic by hobby, Stacy found most Russian TV far too lowbrow and fact-deprived. Now when confronted with her ignorance of popular culture, it was quite embarassing.
“Even I have watched Dom-2,” Marilyn spoke up.
Angel winked. “You can’t expect stupidity and mediocrity not to spread. Tashkent was the third biggest city in the Soviet Union.”
“It’s the biggest TV show in the Russian speaking world. Available on satellite TV. And the government likes it too,” Marilyn said. “At least, it’s not threatening to Islam – I mean, both the religion and Islam Karimov’s regime. Keeps the masses diverted and entertained. So you can watch it in offices and barracks.”*
“I’m afraid it doesn’t suit my academic mind,” Stacy said shamefacedly.
“Just out with it, you would find it boring,” Riley said dismissively. “And so do I.”
“You watch Russian TV programs? Thought you hated…” Naz turned to Riley.
“Just tuned in once or twice,” Riley said hastily. “It’s mind numbing.”
XXX
Talk about Dom-2 led to Riley commenting that Russians don’t really smile or laugh.
“On an American reality show, people smile and laugh a lot more. It feels more friendly. Russians can’t make me feel relaxed.”
“It’s a holdover from Soviet days,” Naz said. “We really need to distance ourselves from these crappy times.”
“Speaking of which, Stacy doesn’t put on a Russian face at all. Looks like she learned some good things from abroad?” Angel half asked, half commented.
“Whatever it is, I think we’re heading in the right direction,” Marilyn said. “I feel we’re coming together as a team.”
“We do have things in common that we cherish and support,” Naz acknowledged.
Noticing the time, Riley stood up. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have a meeting with my Mentor.”
“Me too,” Angel said. “But we must have these Dom-2 style conversations more often. Sit around after supper, just chat a bit.”
The meeting broke up as Stacy smiled quietly to herself. So this was the magic of a Tranquility Aura. It brought people together.
And she was also starting to appreciate another aspect of the Benefactors’ insistence on making her the leader.
ZIL members were all Soviet born and raised.
Soviet people had been conditioned to keep a low profile to avoid being seen or creating tensions. Punishments were attributed to entire groups, so your workmates felt obliged to report anything out of the ordinary to protect themselves. This created a work culture where people were skeptical and suspicious of each other, and avoided conversation where their feelings were revealed.
But now the ZIL members spoke freely and frankly. Even if they had disagreements, they were able to understand and appreciate each other’s points of view better now.
Having the right leader in charge from day one was necessary. It set the tone of the workplace.
Taunt
Angel was talking to her Mentor.
“… so I drew them to me, and finished them off within two seconds,” Angel said proudly. “My teammate was never in danger.”
“Well done!” The Mentor applauded.
…
“So when you think about getting people’s attention, think about what they want,” the Mentor said. “For instance, some men want money. Some want sex. Some want revenge. And some want status.
But one of the most common, especially when you’re dealing with men in rough jobs on the battlefield, is anger. If you taunt them, attack their pride, humiliate them, there is a high chance of them getting riled up. And doing what you want.”
“Taunt, huh,” Angel commented to herself.
“That’s right. Sex is impossible in a battlefield situation. In any case you cannot reliably make men lust after you,” the Mentor said. “You did the right thing in Vyazma because you figured out correctly that the policemen wanted sex. You definitely cannot expect this to work most of the time.”
“That’s true.”
“Now consider the other possibilities. How else can you draw the attention of hostile men?”
“Revenge is not that likely because my leader is generally opposed to destructive things. Since we will not be harming others’ loved ones or damaging their most precious things, we won’t be able to provoke them into revenge.”
“And status doesn’t work for you right now. Men are not going to attack you hoping to score points. So you should attack their pride and make them angry. It has the highest chance of successfully getting them to focus on you.”
Angel nodded. “So, I Taunt them.”
Mechanical Mystery
Naz was in her office, watching the drones. She was guiding them through the garage, navigating them past all objects. She would move one drone, then set it to hover, and move another drone, and set that to hover, then move a third drone.
This was a process easier said than done. What millions of people do with ease everyday – walk through a carpark – is something not so easily accomplished by drones. Even someone as skilled as Naz sometimes bumped a car. Which was a bad idea because many cars are armed with alarms.
“If even I can’t do it reliably, how can the others?” Naz mused to herself. “Moreover people are going to be more nervous during field conditions.”
The control system had to be improved and made even more user friendly somehow.
Something made Naz look up from her work.
There was a very muffled rhythmic bumping sound coming from the gym next door. Somebody was exercising on the treadmill, of course. But something was different.
Naz had been hearing it for the past hour already. The last time she heard the treadmill being used, it didn’t sound like that.
Since her work with drones was temporarily stalled, Naz decided to check out the treadmill. After all, she liked mechanical things to work properly. Whenever something was off, she always felt the need to open, inspect, tinker and get rid of the problem.
The treadmill came to a stop. The bumping sound also stopped.
“Why not?” Naz asked herself. She flew the drones back to their boxes as the treadmill user went back upstairs.
XXX
This is freaking weird!
Naz had expected that something was caught or misaligned inside the treadmill, and a cursory inspection would reveal the source of the bumps. It would probably take just one second, or at most a few seconds, to remove the offending noise maker. But she had not been able to locate the source of the bumping sound. Even worse, when she tried out the treadmill, she found that the bumping sound was gone.
Naz felt nonplussed.
Southwest to Soligorsk!
Early the next morning, Stacy received notice of a proposed mission.
She speed-read the material, and told Marilyn.
“Set course for Southwest to Soligorsk in Belarus.”
Marilyn was not familiar with that name, so she had to check.
…
“That’s a good six hundred kilometers from where we are now. At our ideal cruising speed of 10km per hour, that’s going to be two and a half days, traveling night and day.”
“That’s all right,” Stacy said. “Timing is good.”
XXX
Soligorsk is a town founded to do just one thing: salt mining. The name actually means Salt Mountain Town, and refers to the huge piles of salt lying all around in piles as high as eighty meters.
Although Soligorsk is colloqially thought of as a salt mine, actually it is least interested in mining what we normally call salt. A lot of table salt – sodium chloride – is indeed produced, but it is just dumped outside as slag. This is because the real mission of Soligorsk is to obtain potash salts, which are useful as fertilizer. It is places like Soligorsk that allow Belarus to be one of the world’s biggest and most important exporters of fertilizer.
In 1990, some abandoned parts of the mine were converted into an experimental speleotherapy station. This takes place some 420-500 meters deep underground, where the air is dry and impregnated with salt ions.
Speleotherapy is a form of alternative medicine that takes place in caves. Some people believe that breathing cave air might provide relief for respiratory symptoms such as asthma, bronchitis, allergies or sinus problems.
The form of therapy in Soligorsk is also known as halotherapy, in reference to the salt being used.
The experimental station turned out to be a success, so it was expanded and now takes patients from all over the world. Patients basically spend as much time as they can inside the clinic, just breathing in the air. Some people participate in sports, some in gymnastics, and some just hang around and sleep.
XXX
Marilyn inputted some information into the computer, then waited.
“Oh, darn. Not ideal.”
“What’s up?”
“Prevailing winds are mostly Westerly for this region, this time of year. We were traveling north earlier, but now we are moving into a headwind.”
“Then…”
“Wind direction changes with altitude. Computer tells me that it should be westerly at ground level, or low altitudes, for the next 72 hours at least. In contrast, we will get a northerly wind if we ascend to 2000 meters. Then traveling Southwest will consume less fuel.”
“But at 2000m, temperature will be 12 celsius lower than at our current altitude,” Stacy mused.
“Yes. So it’s a question of how we allocate fuel costs. If we fly straight directly, it is into a headwind, so we burn more fuel. If we ascend, winds are more favorable but it will get colder on board so we have to turn on heating. We also burn more fuel, but it would be heating oil not aviation oil.”
Stacy looked over the figures. Truly these were things that a leader-economist had to think about.
“Our Benefactors cover the full transportation costs,” Stacy decided after some thinking. “But they only cover 3/4 the heating costs. So it makes sense to just go straight there.”
“All right. Should I put the engines to max speed, or set a 10km/h ground speed target?”
“Let’s keep the speed at 10km/h,” Stacy decided. “We should still economize, since flying into a headwind is already going to cost more fuel. And I need to discuss the mission with everyone. We will have to read all materials, do research and plan in advance. Arriving at Soligorsk in two and a half days sounds just right.”
Discussion and Decision
“All right team, our first mission given aboard the MMM,” Stacy announced.
They were in the shared office. Everyone sat at her own designated desk, and Stacy at the leader’s desk, which faced the other four desks. Each desk had its own computer, so members could take notes, read material or do research while Stacy talked. All desks were made of lightweight materials like aluminium. There were no heavy luxuries like oak or Crimean mahogany wood in sight anywhere. Apart from the direction it was facing, the leader’s desk setup was exactly the same as everybody else’s.
“Everyone should have the files already. If you haven’t read already, do read them at length later. I will summarize the basic facts.”
Stacy looked over her team, and continued:
“As we all should know, Belarus is an authoritarian nation ruled by Alexander Lukashenko. He has basically retained most of the Soviet Union’s institutions and political structures, and rules with an iron fist.
It is often called Europe’s last dictatorship.
Obviously not all Belarusians are happy with this. Some have turned into political dissidents and so on.
Taking a page from his beloved Soviet Union, Lukashenko likes to pretend that all is well. No criticism, no bad mouthing of his regime is permitted. So some dissidents get thrown into prison on trumped up charges as common criminals. Other dissidents are locked in asylums.
But it’s tough to keep beating down your opposition. Lukashenko is running out of ideas and excuses, so some dissidents have simply vanished.”**
“Oho, I see dead bodies…” Naz intoned seriously. “My sixth sense tells me…”
“Nope. The material says that the dissidents might be held in the Soligorsk salt mines,” Angel broke Naz’s mischief.
“Wait, how did you…”
“I was first to start reading,” Angel said. “And I’ve been speed reading this,” she pointed to her screen.
Naz had nothing to say in response. She was great with mechanical things and technical drawings, and she also read many books, but she was a much slower reader when it came to serious text.
“Yes, Angel is right,” Stacy affirmed. “And that is the crux of our proposed Mission. To enter the Soligorsk salt mines and investigate the missing dissidents.”
This leads to ZIL Vote 005: Soliciting Soligorsk Salt Speleotherapy Sanatorium Survey. If you’d like to read more, click here. If not, ZIL Missions will resume next week!