One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich: A Novel by Solzhenitsyn Aleksandr

Author:Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr [Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Published: 2005-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Kildigs went on laying, like somebody weighing out medicine at the chemist’s. He looked like a doctor, and he always took his time. He kept his back to Der, pretending he hadn’t seen him.

Der crept over to the foreman. No bossiness about him now.

“What can I tell the site manager, Tyurin?”

The foreman went on laying and didn’t look around.

“Tell him it was there already. Like that when we got here.”

Der hung around a bit more. He could see they weren’t about to kill him there and then. He strolled around quietly, with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Shcha-854,” he growled. “Why are you putting the mortar on so thin?”

He had to take it out on somebody. And since nobody could find fault with Shukhov’s bonding, he had to say the mortar was too thin.

“With your permission,” Shukhov lisped, with a bit of a grin, “if I lay it any thicker, this Power Station will be letting in water all over next spring.”

“You’re just a bricklayer—you’d better listen to what your overseer tells you.”

Der frowned and puffed out his cheeks—a habit of his.

Well, maybe it was a bit thin in places. Might have been thicker if we’d been working like human beings, not out here in the middle of winter. You ought to show a bit of consideration. We’ve got to earn all we can. No good trying to explain, though, if he can’t see it himself.

Der went quietly down the ramp.

“You get my hoist fixed up!” the foreman shouted after him. “What do you take us for—cart horses? Heaving cinder blocks up two stories by hand!”

“You’ll be paid for it!” Der answered, from halfway down—but peaceably.

“Wheelbarrow rate, I suppose? Go on, get hold of a wheelbarrow and try running it up that ramp. We want handbarrow rate!”

“I wouldn’t grudge you. But Accounts won’t put it through at handbarrow rate.”

“To hell with Accounts! I’ve got my whole gang carrying for four bricklayers. How much can I earn that way?”

The foreman went on laying steadily while he was shouting.

“Mor-tar!” he shouted down.

Shukhov took up the cry. “Mor-tar!” Finished leveling up the third row, now get going on the fourth. Ought really to take the string a course higher, but it’ll do. We can rush up one course without it.

Der was away across the site, all hunched up. Heading for the office to get warm. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I bet. Ought to stop and think before he takes on a wolf like the foreman. Keep on good terms with Tyurin and his like and he wouldn’t have a care in the world. Nobody expects him to break his back, he gets big rations, lives in a cabin of his own—what more does he want? Wants to show how clever he is, that’s what.

Somebody came up the ramp to say that the manager (electrical maintenance) and the mechanic had both left, and the hoist couldn’t be mended.

So—donkey work it is.

Every job Shukhov had been on, either the machinery broke down or else the zeks broke it.

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