Chevengur by Andrey Platonov

Author:Andrey Platonov [Platonov, Andrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2024-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

35

KOPIONKIN spent twenty-four hours in Chevengur in a state of hope, but then grew tired of standing still in this town, not sensing communism there.

After the burial of the bourgeoisie, Chepurny—Kopionkin learned— had had no idea how to live for happiness, and he had gone off, for the sake of concentration, into distant meadows, to foresense communism in the living grass and in solitude. After two days and nights in unpeopled meadows, contemplating the counterrevolutionary goodness of nature, Chepurny felt a deep melancholy. In search of mind he turned to Karl Marx, thinking it was a huge book and that everything must have been written down there. He even felt surprised that, although the world was so sparse, with more open steppe than buildings and people, so many words about people and the world had already been thought up.

Nevertheless, Chepurny organized a reading of the book. Prokofy read aloud to him, and Chepurny laid down his head and listened with attentive mind, now and again pouring out kvas1 for Prokofy, so that the reader’s voice should not weaken. After the reading Chepurny understood nothing, but he felt lighter.

“Formulate, Prosha!” he said peacefully. “I can feel something.”

Prokofy puffed up his mind and formulated with simplicity, “I suppose one thing, comrade Chepurny—”

“Don’t keep on supposing. Just give me a resolution about the liquidation of the class of residual scum.”

“I suppose one thing,” Prokofy summarized thoughtfully. “Since nothing is said in Karl Marx about residual classes, then they can’t exist.”

“But they certainly do. Just go out onto the street—wherever you look, you find widows, shop assistants, or else dismissed overseers of the proletariat. What can we do about it, I ask you now!”

“I suppose that since, according to Karl Marx, they can’t exist, then they should not exist.”

“But they live and obliquely oppress us. How can that be?”

Now searching merely for an organizational model, Prokofy once again strained his accustomed head.

Chepurny warned him not to try to think in scientifical terms: science was not yet complete, it was only developing—you don’t harvest rye till the ears are ripe.

“I think and suppose, comrade Chepurny, in systematic order,” said Prokofy, finding a way out.

“Think a bit quicker—I’m getting agitated!”

“My premise is as follows: the remnants of the population should be removed as far as possible from Chevengur, so they get lost.”

“Not clear enough. Shepherds will show them the way.”

Prokofy went on with his discourse: “Everyone removed from the base of communism will be issued in advance with a week’s rations— this will be the responsibility of the Liquidation Committee of the Evacuation Center.”

“Ah, remind me about that—I’ll dismiss the Liquidation Committee tomorrow.”

“I’ll note that down, comrade Chepurny. Next, the death penalty will be announced for the entire middle reserve remnant of the bourgeoisie—which will then be granted an immediate reprieve.”

“What do you mean?”

“Their sentence will be commuted to eternal exile from Chevengur and from other bases of communism. Should these remnants reappear in Chevengur, they will be subject once again to the death penalty within twenty-four hours.

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