THE PRESIDENT'S NIGHTMARE


Through the broken window, Vladimir Putin eyed the ruined houses of besieged Leningrad and the few emaciated passersby. He turned to look at his mother whose eyes were sagging from overextension. She was holding a dead infant in her arms and had no tears left to cry. The two-years-old Viktor was the second child she had lost.

"Vladimir Vladimirovich! Can you hear me?"

The faint voice kept getting louder as the air raid alarm became softer and the gut-wrenching scene faded. Putin opened his eyes and looked into the worried face of Dmitry Peskov, his press secretary.

"What happened?"

"One of the eagles fell on your head. Don't move, Vladimir Vladimirovich, the doctor will be here in a minute."

Putin realized he had seen events that occurred ten years before his birth. His head was foggy. He was able to recall other, much later events, even very recent ones, but he couldn't tell which were real and which were not.

Suddenly he remembered something that made him grab Peskov's arm with both of his. "Dmitry Sergeyevich, there is something I need to know."

"Of course. Don't worry about anything. I'm completely at your disposal."

"Did I really start a war against Ukraine?"

"For heaven's sake, keep your voice down!" Peskov looked quickly left and right. Then he bent closer and whispered: "It's a special military operation. To call it a war is a criminal offense."

"Oh. Of course." Putin's head was getting clearer now, but he felt anguish and desperation taking hold of him. The next moment, Peskov moved aside and Doctor Savelyev examined the president, then made him sit up and bandaged his head. The doctor's calm confidence, usually so soothing, did little to help against the memories jumping up in various parts of Putin's memory. Now he was sure they were real. They felt too real. Week after week of daily Security Council meetings. Security... He shook his head.

Putin remembered how he had sworn as a boy that he wouldn't allow the Nazis to attack his motherland ever again. He remembered growing up with the stifling fear that the horrors which he was being told about and kept seeing on the movie theater screen would happen again. He had dedicated his life to the sacred mission of defending his country. But it was only now that he realized something had gone terribly wrong along the way.

Squeezing his eyes shut didn't help. He remembered one thing after another and he knew it was real this time. He had done all that. How was it possible? How could he have failed to see reason? Why hadn't anyone told him?

Doctor Savelyev, misinterpreting the pained look on the president's face, kept telling him gently how there was nothing to worry about. Putin was lifted onto a stretcher.

* * *

He must have dozed off. He remembered how the doctor had given him something to drink after the X-ray examination. Now he was lying in his bedroom. Darya Krivtsova was bent over him, affectionate worry on her face. The promising high jumper was his latest crush.
Darya gently stroked his cheek. "Vova, how do you feel?"
"I'm all right, Dasha. I must have received a hit on my head."
"Doctor Savelyev said there's no brain damage and you would rest better here than at the hospital. But he told me to call him whenever you feel something's wrong."
Vladimir sighed. Yes, something was horribly wrong, but that was not what the doctor had in mind. The ever-growing cult of war and Stalin. The constitution of 2020 that declared the ethnic Russians the master race, antagonizing the remaining one-fifth of the population. The calls to restore Russia's former glory. For heaven's sake, some leading politicians had seriously suggested Putin be crowned emperor!
"How did we end up like this?"
Darya raised an eyebrow. "You saw me at the European Championship in Bratislava. Have you forgotten?"
"Oh, I don't mean you and me. How did I end up believing I was on some kind of a sacred mission? How could I do everything I did?"
She looked at him intensely, as if she was doubting it was really him.
"You can do things differently if you're no longer happy," she said innocuously.
"How? How can I put an end to that Ukraine mess?"
"Well, you are the commander-in-chief, aren't you? You ordered the troops in, you can order them out."
"You don't understand. I can't just apologize and say it was a mistake."
"Can't you negotiate a peace? The Hohols are getting such a beating they'll be kissing your feet if you offer to leave them alone."
Putin shook his head. "I badly fear we're in too deep. It's not just Ukraine. I've turned Europe and America against us. They will force reparations on us and we're bankrupt as it is."
"Vova, Russia has more mineral resources than any other country in the world. We'll be rich like Saudi Arabia as soon as we can stop the oligarchs from stealing it all."
"Right. And get rid of terrorism, alcoholism and low birth rate while we're at it."
She reached for his groin. "We can start with the low birth rate."
"Stop it, Dasha! This is not funny."
Darya hurried to kiss him. "Don't be angry, Vova. I was only trying to cheer you up."
Putin reached out and pulled her against him.
"There's a lot more than Ukraine," he said after a while. "All those years... I have been like possessed." He closed his eyes. "Dasha, Dasha, what have I done?"
He felt her gently leaving his embrace, throwing off her dress and climbing under the blanket. He cherished her eager touch. Her warm young body gave him strength, but not enough.
"I have to get us out of Ukraine, but I can't figure out how."
Darya opened and closed her mouth.
"What is it?" Putin asked.
She hesitated.
"Come on." He caressed her face and looked at her affectionately. "What did you want to say?"
She took a deep breath. "There is something else you can do."
"What?"
"If you can't get Russia out of Ukraine, you can get us out of Russia."
Actually, the thought had occurred to him already. "How can I leave? There is no one to take my place. You know which party is the second most popular after ours, don't you? The communists. What will become of Russia? Thank God at least that maniac Zhirinovski is dead."
"You don't have to worry about everything, darling. You have done enough."
"Oh yes. I have done more than enough."
"Sorry, Vova, I didn't mean it like that."
He stroked her back absent-mindedly and unhooked her bra. She moved herself to take it off and got out of her panties as well.
"What about Navalnyi?" she asked then.
His face turned to ice. "No. He exposed my palace in Gelendzhik. He'll stay in prison."
"Okay," Darya said quickly.
"Besides," he turned to look her in the eye, "he has suffered so much he wouldn't settle for anything less than my imprisonment. There's no negotiating with him."
"Oh. I see." She rubbed her breasts against him. He smiled and stroked her hip.
"Still, Vova, you don't need to worry about all that," she purred into his ear. "We can just escape."
"I suppose we can. Or rather I badly suspect we have to."
Darya slipped her hand into his underpants. When he moaned in pleasure, she said with her most seductive voice: "Promise me won't take Nadya, Vera, and Masha."
"Of course."
"No, promise me. Please, Vova." She kissed him passionately and sucked on his tongue. Finally she broke the kiss and said, sitting on him: "You have to promise! They all love you because you are the president, but I love you, Vova! I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you."
He smiled fondly. "I promise, Dasha. We'll go just the two of us." He turned his eyes away from her adorable perky breasts into her eyes shining in the night light. "I'm scared, Dasha. Scared of myself. The monster I have turned into. What have I been thinking?"
Darya caressed his chest. "Vova, you are not a monster! Everybody makes mistakes. It doesn't matter. We're going away, you and I. That's all that matters. We're going to be together, forever."
He pulled her mouth to his and they kissed and embraced passionately. Then he said:
"Dasha, you are my biggest treasure."
"And you are mine," she whispered with her head on Vladimir's shoulder.
Putin looked at the ceiling and said pensively: "Where should we go?"
"You have billions on your secret accounts, haven't you? We can go anywhere we want. Maldives, Costa Rica, Bahamas..."
"No. It has to be where I can play ice hockey."
Vladimir didn't notice the annoyed grimace that appeared on Darya's face for a second. Then she kissed him gently and said: "Just go to sleep, darling. You'll figure it all out tomorrow."
Putin shook his head. "I can't go to sleep now. I will at least have to order them to stop the wa... the special military operation."
"Vova, they'll be asleep at night too. Igor told me the Security Council will gather in the morning as usual. But you have to rest now." She took his face between her palms and rubbed her nose against his. "You have to think of your health, Vova!"
"There's nothing wrong... Yes, I guess you're right." He felt his bandage. "God, I'm so tired."
"How's your head?"
"It's fine, Dasha. There's no pain."
"Maybe so, Vova, but please be a good boy now and go to sleep."

When Vladimir had closed his eyes, Darya adjusted his blanket, turned off the light and left the room quietly. She made herself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen, trying to make sense of this striking change in Vladimir.

Finally she decided she'd better get some sleep, too. "The morning is wiser than the evening," as the proverb said.



(C) Olavi Jaggo
First published: 2022-04-16
This version: 2024-08-09




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