Puppybug and Pierre come home from school

“Puppybug wait. What’s your hurry?”

“But I don’t have time. I’ve got the piano in a minute. And I haven’t even seen the sheet music yet.”

“Puppybug, that’s an excuse. You want to play the piano in that condition?”

“You’re right, Pierre! The present state of my body really doesn’t allow me to play the piano. I’m glad you noticed that. What’s on your mind, boy?”

“Don’t joke. I want to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“Well, for what I did to you.”

“You’re not gonna be able to fix it now.”

“Puppybug, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid. I really didn’t mean to do that to you. I’ll walk a little way with you.”

“Do you want to ride in the car with me and my bodyguards?”

“Maybe tell them you’ll walk today.”

“Well, yeah. If I don’t have a piano lesson, maybe we could walk across the park. Fresh snow has fallen. I think it’ll be nice.”

“It doesn’t matter which way we go. As long as no one listens to us.”

“I’ll try… Mr. Shubert, can you hear me? Mr. Shubert, answer me, please … hello, Mr. Shubert, it’s me, Clare. Who else but me? Mr. Shubert, I will walk home today …. No, I don’t want to go with you in the car. I don’t have my piano class today, and I want to take a walk … I’ll just walk normally. We’ll do it the same way we did last week when I went to the shopping center with Wilma… I understand, but your boys will stay a hundred yards away from me…. Okay, about fifty. But no closer… Disconnect me from your network now. No bugging. I know you have your instructions, but … I believe you will do it well. … Of course, I’ll put in a good word for you with Daddy. You want to be with your family for Christmas. I see… Thanks, Mr. Shubert, I owe you this.”

“I mean, Puppybug, I feel sorry for you. Your dad must be crazy to be spying on you so hard. That’s some bullshit.”   

“That’s for security, after all. He is terribly worried about me. He is afraid that I will be kidnapped and a ransom will have to be paid for me. Or that someone will be waiting for me to blackmail my dad, or – that someone will do something unpleasant to me. Like you did on Friday.”

“Stop it, I’m so embarrassed. Where have you got these bugs all over you?”

“Somewhere in my jacket. And I’m glad my dad hasn’t had me chipped yet. I’m turning my phone off now just in case. You do that, too. They can connect us. See those two in the corner, those are my shadows.”

“Lauer and Hardy, the little guard and the big guard. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting them before.”

“Pierre, let’s go. It’s a bit late. It’s getting dark very quickly. Those behind us will be nervous.” 

“Puppybug, I admire you for sticking it out mentally. This is crazy. I don’t think your money’s worth it.”

“It’s just outside. At home, at school, just in a safe place, it’s not. Sure. I envy all the normal girls who don’t have such a lifestyle. What am I supposed to do? My dad’s a total dick about this.” 

“You can’t get hurt with me.”

“Ha, ha, what’s this.”

” It was a big mistake on my part, Puppybug. I’m sorry, really. Does it hurt?”

“Not really. Let’s not overdo it again. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It is for me. What you did in history class today was totally creepy-awesome of you.”

“What did I do that was so terrible?”

“You’ve looked at me provocatively a few times, and you’ve always kissed your bandaged finger. What’s wrong with the finger, anyway?”

“A chipped bone.“

“You’re really great for not saying I did this to you. What did you even say to your parents and the doctors?”

“That I hit myself on the bench. Accidentally.”

“How long will you have it?”

“I don’t know. About a fortnight. But I don’t have to write with a pen; everything’s nice on the keyboard. That way, I can be online all the time. While my classmates are just making occasional slaves of their paper notebooks.”

“Are you angry with me, Puppybug?”

“But, I’m not even angry. It’s a fact that we were both tugging on the phone. You squeezed my fingers pretty hard. You don’t know moderation, and you’re extremely strong. All for the sake of looking at my WhatsApp. But that’s where my confidential stuff is, even though Wilma and I write about you.”

“It’s all the fault of our class teacher. She has no idea what she’s done to me by giving us that stupid new seating chart in the classroom. Girl, boy, girl, boy. So that we teenagers wouldn’t be so disruptive and naughty in lessons. She did that. That’s how I got dangerously close to you, and that’s how my problems started.”

“Pierre, I don’t have a problem with you. You can switch places. And go to another girl.”

“I don’t want to sit with another girl.”

“Not even with Wilma?”

“I’m not curious about Wilma.”

“Don’t tell her that. She’d be sorry.”

“She’s weird, and she’d just shop all the time. I bet she had a good time with you the last time you went to the shopping center. What did you buy there? Christmas presents?”

“Wilma loves to shop. She used to shop there like crazy. I don’t buy many presents. Hardly at all. I don’t enjoy it.”

“But you have unlimited credit. You can buy whatever you want, perhaps an elephant.”

“Oh, that’s right. That’s why I don’t like it either. I only give small gifts. I usually make something myself. Last Christmas, I drew my mom a picture. A big sun. It gave off such a warm feeling, you know. Mummy was so pleased with it. And I was happy, too. I wrote Dad a poem for his birthday. The poem was about him. Because I was mad at him, I didn’t spare him at all. I really didn’t. But he was absolutely overjoyed. He had the poem framed, and it’s on display in his office in Washington. I suspect he did it on purpose because the text is in Czech, so virtually no one in America can understand it. He said he translated it for Uncle Willy Doore, who just shrugged his shoulders. So I translated it into English for him. But he didn’t put that in the frame anymore.”

“What was it about? That’s what I want to know.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t make a fool out of me. You underestimate me all the time.”

“Do you want to hear it word for word?”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be something like, ‘I’m Popeye the Sailor Man. I’m strong to the “finich” ’cause I eats me spinach’.” 

“You’re a real jerk, Pierre. That was supposed to be a poem for my beloved Dad with a capital ‘D’. Because I wrote it in Czech first, and the Czech word for ‘Dad ‘ is ‘Táta’, so in the original Czech poem, all the words start with ‘t’. In English, the initial letter would have to be ‘d’. But English is not as flexible a language as Czech, and even artificial intelligence cannot create this English poem where all the words should start with ‘d’.” 

“Does your creation have a name?”

“It’s called ‘Dad’s Silent Tambourine’ or in English, maybe, ‘Dad’s Damaging Drum’ “.

“So tell me, Puppy. I’m all ears.”

“Wow, Dad, what a deal!

You got it right.

I applaud you.

Now quietly,

now a little loudly again.

I’m just now beginning to understand

your mysterious tactics.

Your silly Total Market Theory

torments your little Puppy.

You, the stubborn creator of this theory,

are permanently tormenting those everywhere with this heavy punishment.

I grieve a little embarrassingly.

I long to pluck blades of grass,

to wander in the tropical silence,

to dance a fancy tango, to wave my navy blue T-shirt,

to pick cherries, to phone you really in private.

That’s what I’m saying now.

So it goes on,

the bursting glittering desire of your toxic texts.

Is it so satisfying to you?

Are you enjoying the team triumph of the tyrants?”

“Is that the end? Dear poetess, it’s just that your words don’t rhyme at all.”

“Free verse, Mr. Ignorant.”

“Why is it called ‘Silent Tambourine’?

“Because Dad is really sounding the alarm. But quietly. Not everyone can hear his drumming. It’s like he’s playing a tambourine and calling together the most influential people in the world to finally do something. They’re the ones who understand there’s no other choice. Dad calls them the New Illuminati.”

“I don’t really understand. But it’s a good text. Does the Czech version of the poem actually have all the words beginning with ‘t’? That must have been a lot of work.”

“Not really. Free verse is easy. It’s easy enough for an elementary school pupil.”

“Didn’t the computer do it? Do you have access to full artificial intelligence? Maybe your daddy has released a very fake version for his darling’s study.”

“You think that would be possible today? Do you think so, Pierre?”

“Sure. That’s reality. You can’t escape it. The machines will just do it all, and better. A computer like the IBM supercomputer at the Oak Ridge National Lab could put Shakespeare in its pocket.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I understand you, Puppybug. That doesn’t detract from how good you are. I know your parents’ wealth takes away the joy of shopping, and technology robs you of the joy of creating something artistic. How many languages can you speak? Today, thanks to text editors, a person with an IQ of 80 can be a translator. You should mentally prepare yourself for that. Just a sensational digital world of geniuses and idiots alike, where you’ll wander forever.”

“Hey, would you rather walk your computer home? You can take it by the cable instead of by the hand.”

“No way. The best part is, you’re just a normal girl. I hope you want to stay a girl.”

“Sure. I’m not stupid. I don’t want to go to school dressed up as some animal, just so you know.”

“I’m just asking because you can’t be sure of anything these days. I’m thrilled you’re such a classic, such a… I’m just wondering how you remember that rather long poem so well. You memorized it?”

“No. I was actually reading it just now.”

“What? How did you read it? Your mobile’s in your bag, and it should be off. And you don’t even have any special glasses.”

“You know, Pierre, I can see the text in my mind’s eye. In the smallest detail. Normally, I read it as if it were on paper or a screen.”

“How is that possible?”

“Photographic memory.”

“What’s that?”

“I just see it in front of me. All I have to do is look at a page carefully, and then I can see the whole thing and read it normally.”

“So, you memorize the entire page in minute detail? You are then able to read it perfectly in its entirety. How many such pages are you able to memorize?”

“A whole book, for example. I recently read a novel called ‘A Confederacy of Dunces’. If you want, I can tell you exactly what’s on any page. For instance, page 144 begins, “Jones was blindly running a sponge along the bar…”

“Puppybug, stop. Stop. So I’m talking about a normal girl, and I’m gushing about your normalcy. I take comfort in the fact that I can date a normal girl, and yet you’re completely abnormal.”

“Dear Pierre, are we dating?”

“I mean, we’re friends. That I can just have a normal friend. The best friend. The beautiful girlfriend. But she’s most likely a little crazy. A crazy person disguised as a friend. Do you have some kind of autism? Like Rain Man?”

“Oh, no. I shouldn’t have told you. No one at school knows about this. This special genetic makeup was passed on from my father to me. My dad discovered that I had the ability, too.  He found me this old Hindu teacher in America. He was tiny, and his name was Laghari. He taught me how to concentrate on it. I hope you don’t tell anyone. Please keep it to yourself.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a shock to me. I get it now. Your straight A’s in school. Puppybug knows everything and understands everything.  She learns in seconds what I have to study all afternoon.”

“Do you think it’s unfair?”

“It’s not fair, but it’s fantastic. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Wait, Puppybug, let’s test you … I’m pulling our history textbook out of my bag. I’m looking … I’m searching … and tell me what’s on page 55, first line, second word.”

“…Aristotle.”

“Wow, you are absolutely gorgeous! I mean, you could go to college, to some university. What are you doing at our high school? That must be a pretty easy institute for you.””

“Maybe I’m there for you.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I just want to live a normal life. Just a little bit. I want to be a girl now, not a woman, and certainly not a scientist. And I want to have normal friends, such as you. As long as you’ll be normal and not want to make a cyborg of yourself. Which you’d be able to do just to match me with something as stupid as being able to learn and remember things in a flash.”

“I’ll have to have at least two add-on modules implanted in my brain to match you. One graphic and one artistic.”

“Just laugh at me…”

“I wonder why you’re writing Dad such a strange poem for his birthday, though. Why don’t you write him a note telling him how much you love him? Or something.”

“Pierre, he’s been systematically destroying me for a long time.”

“I don’t believe it; your dad is so fine.”

“He’s fine. I like him a lot. He loves me, too. Sometimes, I think he likes me even more than he likes my mom. He’d give anything in the world for me. I’m just the most precious thing he’s got. But he works too much. He’s always away somewhere, and he has to fly halfway around the world on a jet to see me.”

“My dad is also always traveling somewhere and inventing more work and tasks. He’s almost always in Israel. That’s the way these guys are.”

“I just don’t like my dad’s job and his work assignments.”

“He’s an important businessman; you have to understand that.”

“I understand that very well. But he’s also an Influencer.”

“You mean on social media, on Facebook?”

“No. Dad is one of the important people who are trying to fatally influence world politics, the economy, and everything.”

“How does he do it?”

“I don’t know exactly. They’re making a big secret about it. All I know is that Dad runs one of the major groups of the richest people in the world. Or at least he tries to run it. He’s in it with Uncle Willie, Uncle Appolo Gib, and the Rottenkins. I know them all personally and they’re all actually fine.”

“You mean there’s a certain group of rich people who run the whole world?”

“Absolutely not. There is probably no organization so powerful. But there are groups of people who are trying to make a difference in the world. So that they can benefit from it. Those groups of people are constantly changing. Depending on their interests at the moment. They betray and then return to their original allies. They fight amongst themselves for power and the enormous profits of world trade. The only thing that binds them together is that no change or course of development must be against the interests of these groups as a whole.”

“You blame your dad for this?”

“Yes. I feel like he lives in a completely different world than most other people. And he’s always pulling me into his pampered bubble. That world of theirs is now practically separate from the world of normal people. It’s like a fairy-tale kingdom where the courtiers want to please the king and the higher-ups at all costs. The ones below adopt the style and strange habits of the upper classes, hoping one day to become real aristocrats. All they really know how to do is intrigue. They are constantly trying to climb the social ladder so that some of them will also become rich and influential aristocrats like my father. This creates a system with a few thousand people at the top controlling the biggest banks, governments and corporations. These important people can do almost anything. Modern science and technology has made them almost gods. Dad’s playing God. He thinks he can run half the world from his office in Washington or from the kids’ room in Prague. He even says he might make me president of the United States one day.” 

“No way!”

“If my dad and his friends think of it, they’ll make a trained monkey president of the United States. So, why can’t it be me.”

Are you going to be an Influencer as president?”

“No, just a Servant.“

“But he only wants what’s best for you. He wants you to be the one to benefit.”

“But he’s doing it in a way that I really don’t like. Pierre, they really do use everything for their own ends – war, science, global warming, monetary inflation, disease, young people in non-profits. They control the media, they bribe politicians and judges, they rig elections…”

“Even if they do, they certainly do it thoughtfully and with good intentions. I don’t believe your dad is so dishonest.”

“That’s just it. They really do have good intentions. Dad certainly wouldn’t lend himself to something completely dishonest. But lately he’s been totally obsessed with protecting the environment.”

“Me too. People just pollute everything around them. The old ones have already pretty much ruined it for us here.”

“Daddy says that a large portion of the people on Earth must severely curtail their needs or disappear from the surface altogether, or a great catastrophe will soon come. When we were on Uncle Willi’s yacht this summer, we came to a beautiful cove on the Pacific Ocean. It’s called Bora Bora. Dad and Willi were looking forward to it as little boys. Then they were so disappointed. So many other yachts and motorboats were coming in. It ended up being a crowded place with loud music and garbage. We quickly sailed away. In the evening, Dad was talking to Uncle Willie. They’d already had a few drinks. They were quite noisy. It was impossible not to listen. They really want their Golden Billion.  They were talking about how they were going to make it happen. They see overpopulation as the greatest evil, and they want to solve it. And fast. They say there’s not much time left.” 

“How are they going to solve it?”

“Dad says people have to force themselves to do it. Otherwise, they won’t self-restrain their needs and limit their irresponsible reproduction. He says all means are good for that. And they’re already doing it. My dad’s working hard on it. I’m terribly sorry, and it bothers me. Cause it’s all because of me.”

“That’s nonsense, Puppy. It’s not your fault. It’s their fault. They want to do it.”

“It’s just that I feel like Dad’s doing all this for me. That he loves me so much. And he wants to give me a great future so much that he’d sacrifice ten billion other people to do it.”

“Don’t cry, Puppy.”

“I’m not crying. But I’m heartbroken about it.”

“What’s gotten into your head? It’s not your fault. They’re not gonna make it anyway. When we’re adults, we’ll repeal all their plans.”

“That’s what I told my dad. But he just laughed, stroked my hair, and said that the end of everything would come even faster. So population, consumption, energy, travel, culture, and science must be limited. The question is not if but how. People will not limit themselves. I don’t have to worry about my family. We who are at the top will not limit ourselves. I don’t have to limit myself; others will limit themselves. You know what I mean? I’m so ashamed. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s unhappiness. But I am. It’s all because of me.”

“I understand, Clare. But don‘t accuse yourself like that. It’s not your fault. You’re an amazingly beautiful and thoughtful girl. And a special girl. Maybe special people have it hard enough. But I’m having a hard time right now, too. It’s not my fault our family’s from Russia. And I’m sure you’ve noticed how some teachers have treated me strangely. And some of the boys want to fight with me and call me “Russian cockroach” and “go to Siberia”. Sometimes, I feel like I started the Ukrainian war and the European oil crisis.”

“I will defend you against it with my own body, Pierre.”

“You are joking, you foolish, wounded invalid. But it annoys me. We’ve lived here in Prague for almost ten years. I’m nearly two years older than you because I first had to learn perfect Czech. Only then could I go to our ‘famous’ high school – our Cauldron of Nations. So I should be two years higher in my studies than you. And anyway, my name is not Pierre but Pyotr. Only you call me Pierre.”

“Because I like that name. Because it sounds so nice. Pierre est le plus beau nom. They used to speak a lot of French in Russia.”

“But we’re not Russian? Our family is Jewish. My father is a pure Jew. Mom’s half Jewish. According to the Nuremberg Laws, I must be a three-quarter Jew. During the last war, I probably would have been gassed.”

“Don’t talk about it. It makes me sick.”

“But I’m sick of your daddy’s ‘golden billion.’ Just see, it’s been done here before. That someone wanted to exterminate the entire Jewish people because they thought it would save the world. Because we Jews are a scourge to mankind. I’m just saying that because I agree with you. Since the Holocaust was a harsh reality during the war, I think your fears about today’s situation may be quite valid. Six million Jews disappeared during the last war. They were also liquidated en masse using the science and technology of the time. No one could imagine that until then, and even ordinary Germans didn’t want to believe it. My dad once showed me a complicated fake table according to which the population of Germany was divided at that time. On a scientific level, it showed very clearly how the racial authorities should proceed to purge the entire population of the Jewish race. I would be ein richtiger Jude. I could not be a citizen of the German Reich and would have to be deported or killed. I would have no rights, not even the right to life. I couldn’t even marry a girl like you.”

“Stop it.”

“Dad also told me that you Overliens must be at least part Jewish, too.”

“Why? I’ve never heard of it at home.”

“Because your dad is too big an animal in his business not to be Jewish.”

“Boy, you’re kidding. Aren’t you a racist, too, after all? I don’t care if you’re Jewish and I’m not.”

“I don’t care, but my dad has a completely different opinion. I’d like to invite you to our cottage in Switzerland. In February, for spring break. It’s great skiing. On a glacier. If you were even slightly Jewish, it would make things a lot easier for me.”

“You’re incredibly cheeky sometimes, Pyotr. What do you care about my background? Next time, walk home with someone racially pure, straight from the synagogue.”

“Puppybug, you don’t understand. I don’t care if you’re black, gypsy, or Italian from Palermo. That’s what my dad wanted to know. So don’t blame me for what my father’s problem is.“

“Then I must disappoint you. I don’t know anything about my Jewish heritage.”

“I thought if you were so honest with me, I could be open with you. I don’t have to be afraid to tell you something you don’t quite agree with.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Do you know there are tests for Jewish ancestry? It’s based on DNA. The lab simply tests your genetic information and uses special sections of the DNA to safely determine if you have Jewish ancestry. My friend next door had it done. And the result – he’s all allele-positive. He’s Jewish as hell. Dad goes crazy with joy. They do the tests somewhere in Prague 4, some company called DDC. They send the samples directly to Israel for lab analysis. You’ll have the results in a month.”

“How is the sample taken? From the blood?”

“No, with a skewer from saliva and a swab of the gums. The Jewish genetic traits are located on four different chromosomes in all of our cells.”

“You’re gonna let me get spiked? And send my genetic information somewhere in Israel?  Do you want to take me to the doctor now to see if I happen to have COVID or some flu? So I don’t infect you.”

“I meant well. You might also want to know where you’re from. You can also use DNA to learn the specific area of the world your family probably came from.”

“I don’t want to know. If only because I like Christmas and you Jews don’t celebrate Christmas. You also don’t give yourself any Christmas presents.”

“We’re having Hanukkah right now. It’s the festival of lights, candlesticks are lit, and we give each other presents.  Every day. It’s celebrated for eight days. This year, it coincides with Christmas. I always accumulate a lot of presents. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“My mother is a native Czech. She doesn’t even have to be genetically tested. We were having advent right now, and my mom was lighting the candles on the advent wreath one by one. And we’re having fried carp on Christmas Eve. And I’m gonna get a bunch of presents all at once… Look, they’ve already started selling carp on the corner. Come and see them.”

“Puppybug, they’re giants! This one’s at least five kilos. Can I buy him for you, Puppy? You can release it into the Vltava River.”

“No way. These carp are for the Christmas table. They wouldn’t survive in the river.”

“I’m sorry you don’t want a carp from me.  I’m not the fairy godmother who conjures up a beautiful ball dress and glass shoes for my little Cinderella.”

“Look, Pierre, they have mistletoe in the stand nearby. They say it brings good luck at Christmas. You can buy that for me because I really can’t buy that for myself. I have to get mistletoe from someone. As a Christmas present. Otherwise, it doesn’t work, and I won’t have any luck in the new year.” 

“Sure, I’ll buy it for you. And you’ll be lucky all year, Puppybug.”

“Okay. But buy the plain one, the green one.”  

“Sure. … Hello. I’ll buy one of your mistletoe. The green one. … How much does it cost? Fifty crowns. Can I pay for it with a card? … Thank you.”

“It’s very nice. Thank you, Pierre. But now that I got it from you, it’s actually mine. So I’ll untie it and give you half of it. And since I’m giving it to you now, you’ll be lucky in the new year, too.”

“But I don’t want it. I only gave it to you. I’d like something else from you.”

“What?”

“I’d like to kiss your broken finger.  Just like you repeatedly demonstrated to me today in class during history class. It was so cute to me, but it was also very exciting.”

“What kind of stupid idea do you have? Are you going to kiss the finger brace?”

“It would be an almost Christian penance for my sin. I still feel guilty. It would make me feel a lot better. And maybe you’ll heal sooner.”

“Well, I could let you do that. If only we weren’t being followed by the two who are walking behind us.”

“Let’s get away from them.”

“So we’ll have to disappear into a passageway or something for a while.”

“Hey, come on, let’s go around the corner. … Hurry up!”

“Wait for me. You’re running like a madman.”

“Come on, Puppy, there’s a door here… It’s open… Get a hustle on! Come in.”

“Oops, Pierre, we’ve entered the church.”

“Don’t worry. Come in. … But we can’t go on. There’s an iron grate. We can’t go all the way in. There’s no one here. But it’s nice to see inside, all the way to the altar. You can hear the beautiful silence.”

“I hear it. There’s also a nativity scene with the baby Jesus. That’s beautiful.”

“I’m just going to open the door to the street now and see what Lauer and Hardy are doing.”

“See anything?”

“Yeah. They’ve already realized you’re gone. That little Lauer is running around confused.”

“Well, that’s going to be a problem again. We can’t be here long, or I’ll be in trouble again.”

“Why, you? Lauer and Hardy will be in trouble. They’re completely incompetent.”

“Make no mistake. Mr. Shubert will locate me in two minutes. You’ve actually kidnapped me now. See, that’s what my dad was so afraid of. Let’s get out of here.”

“But you promised me something. And promises are meant to be kept, especially at Christmas.”

“Okay, here’s the sore finger. You can kiss it. But be quick.”

“Then lift it up a little more.”

” … Pierre, that wasn’t a finger. We didn’t agree on a kiss on the lips.”

“But you didn’t flinch.”

“Because you’ve completely fooled me.”

“You know I love you.”

“Pierre, do you speak Spanish?”

“No. Why?”

“Ese fue mi primer beso con un joven. Te recordaré para siempre.”