Red Star at the Redeemer Gates

I. The Party Has A Funeral

rejoice brothers and sisters
for the workers of the world united
will propel mankind into a new era
with heads unbowed to the fresh winds of change

the sacrifices of the individual
will prop our shoulders and hold our heads high
fallen comrades and toiling mothers
can now stand steadfast as one

a great cry has lifted to the stars
the chorus of millions strong
ring with the patriotic fervor
of a teeming mass destined for the glory of all time

fear not in troubles and anguish little for those unworthy
for strength, honor and determinism
are the foundations of a country strong as molten steel
enter the red star at the redeemer gates

When our little traveling group left our home it was bitterly cold but the sky was a dark blue, a deeper blue than usual. The old Lada seemed more cramped with me, my little sister, my dad and our grandmother. Father assured us that it was only a matter of time before he was driving the same German automobiles as his bosses did. Unbelievable! Impossible! everyone exclaimed at once. Grandmother disgustedly spit on the floor of the car. This was unfathomable to believe that just over a decade after the German Wehrmacht had steamrolled its death brigades almost to the hemline of sacred Moscow that Russians would find anything German a symbol of success. No matter, this is what was done. Scenery and sky were now spitting and frothing as we alone piled down this newly paved superhighway. This seemed like an enormous amount of asphalt for just our car but just like in our hometown concrete was eating up every amount of empty space. This was the new Russia...proud, industrious and orderly. The town we just moved to was cleaved from the dense forests as though a monsterous ax were plunged from space with one mighty swoop. The hours were now uncountable as we straightlined through this dream of Russia I had never seen. Father had just told us that Mother had died in an accident at the factory where she worked and there would be a small memorial for her given to us by the beneficial heads of the State Factory. He reminded us over and over again that we were to be gracious and quiet today as this was a rarity for the leaders of the Factory to all be attending. There wasn't much need for warnings though because no one spoke much as the thick forests gradually gave way to sparse trees and endless rocky hills. The gray skies boiled over the craggy bluffs and lapped at the edges of the road. Everything now was completely different than when this day had started. Beauty had crumbled into hideousness, excited chatter became monotonous radio static and Mother was no longer alive.

My sister and I could never figure out why Mother was gone for extended periods of time but just like everything else in Russia all was done for the good of the commoners like us. I began to suspect we were not that common at all when Father told us we were all moving to this beautiful new city along the River Ob in the forests of southern Siberia. We grew up in the same town as Father and he in the same town as his parents. Nobody moved in Russia until now. Now it seemed that everybody was moving to towns nobody ever was born in and our townsfolk had all the same meaningless pasts and histories. Everything was the future. So forgotten would be everything but nobody seemed to mind. Everyone had wonderful new jobs and houses and towns. But we did not have everything, we forgot to bring our Mother. Father plainly explained that Mother would not be coming with us for the time being as she was sent to work in this secretive new factory town way off in the West.