American dream (Американская мечта)

  The inner voice prompts the right choice,
                      The sky above shines with eternal love.


                                       Reality

  Tumanov finished typing the eightieth page, switched off the computer and went to bed. His wife Irina was sleeping, but when he lay down awoke.  
  - At last. You’ve completely forgotten me.
  - I’ve finished the book.
  And they started making love. He wrote it much quicker than planned – in a week, because plunged into it fully and the subject was his own life. He interpreted it according to Hollywood standards but the basis remained real. Sure, he was not such a tough ninja and failed to immigrate to America for lack of money, but in his soul he was the man he described. And he wrote in English for American readers, which meant that he really moved to that space, made the same fundamental choice of his direction of life as his hero in the story. Verses both in Russian and in English were real too, as the outcome of his search of better profession, because in the past he was really a space scout and the material for his fantasy was taken from real cosmic space, real extraterrestrial civilizations and real evens. This was his third book about space scout Tumanov - the first in English with his poetry, the second in Russian with publicism, each about one hundred pages, and now again in English, pure prose. It corresponded to the hero’s return to Russia, under the influence of his gens and culture, and then after disappointment – his return to the USA. So it was autobiographical and he left for the man his own name.
 He really studied karate and kung-fu, mastered the school of Drunkard, and replaced ninja sword with a knife, more available in Russian circumstances and effective enough for self-defense. He had real problems with FSS, who tried to recruit him after his elder brother really fled to the West and he after years of yoga practice developed extrasensory perception. He really started by Zen and studied all world religions and the horoscope of Stavropol was really similar to the horoscope of the USA in respect to Pluto, responsible for secret affairs and security services. So he knew very well all he was writing about and that’s why it was so easy and quick. And the end was realistic too, it might require years for him to succeed in America or even the rest of his life but he had no other choice because in Russia he was in a deadlock. He couldn’t publish anything here and earn his living by creativity. New writers were paid miserable fees, not enough for living, and even that after the crisis became impossible. Books didn’t sell because people had no money and time for them thanks to the “economic wonders” of the government. Russia’s population decreased by several millions in the last ten years, people couldn’t even survive and what was the use of books?
 His real ability behind ninja techniques was teleportation of bullets and knives. He could piece an enemy’s heart at distance through multidimensional space without any external trace, which looked like an ordinary infarction. So he was an astral ninja, a space warrior, really effective and ruthless as Japanese, whom re respected and liked. And sex for him as a tantra-yogin was really a matter of energy, when younger he was very popular with girls and only his young and beautiful wife put an end to his love adventures like Olga-Irina in the book. So he took his hero not from other ninja stories or Hollywood hits but from reality itself and, if it was necessary, he could prove it by real actions and deeds.

  My sword is always at hand
  And I see through a distant land.
  I will always attentively hark,
  When a demon arises from dark.
  I will cut the evil in root
  And follow on my starry route.

  “Jolly Roger” was a fiction but some reality hid behind it too, egotistic corrupted politicians spoiled people’s life not only in Russia. Tumanov stretched his hand to emptiness and took a ninja sword. It was always waiting for him in another dimension and he needn’t be afraid to use it whenever he saw a murderer before him. Narcotics kill too and drugs mafia also earned death. He tuned though space to American Mafiosi and saw a fat man in an armchair. I was Miami and he was their main boss. With one sweep of the sword he sent his read rolling to the floor – let police search for yakudzu. Then he took all money directly from the safe and threw it to the window for passersby, again and again, a snowfall of banknotes from the sky, until it was empty. Switching on his computer, Tumanov entered his secret accounts in several banks and transferred the money back to the people he robbed. He could find everything intuitively and instantly and the whole operation was completed in ten minutes. Then he took from emptiness a gun and started shooting the rest of the criminals, tied to the boss by karma, money and blood. It took more time, because they were numerous but he was in no hurry and didn’t miss anyone.
  He wrote down the events and his daughter Nellie (in reality elder) asked for the computer to watch her fairy cartoons, the son asked it for games. He taught them how to throw a coin to settle the problem and went to the kitchen to have breakfast.
 Was he happy in his distance ninja way of life? Yes, he was. Russians want justice more than money and fame, and he was Russian, though he lived in American dream. He was inspired by Hollywood films about half-fantastic revenge fighters against criminals and made the fantasies true. If anyone was to blame, it was the Dream Factory, flooding the world comics-like heroes, and the American serial books “Destroyer”, i.e. Americans themselves. He as Russian only reflected and returned their style and ideas in his own Eastern way. If Americans write such books and make such films, they must be ready for someone, who takes them seriously and puts into life.


   
Oleg Tumanov        A bullet and a chrysanthemum

                                   A Russian in New-York      
                                     
  A bullet can solve a problem, if it hits the right man. Tim Somo, as he called himself in America, knew it for sure. His gun was his best friend and he never left his home without it for his life was a permanent adventure. It is not that he looked for trouble himself but some trouble always looked for him.
 New-York was a strange city; everyone there thought he knows what he is doing, though in reality they knew only what they have done, if it was counted in dollars. The future was only a version and Tim followed his intuition without logic and facts.
                   An autumn leaf in the wind
                   Knows more of his fate
                   Than a wanderer in his drift.
  Tim loved Japanese poetry and sometimes wrote haikus himself like a real samurai before his death, which always hovered around him, but never came. He came to New-York from Tokyo after several years of karate training and was searching for work. He could fight and shoot well but didn’t want to go to police even in the future, when it would be possible, because he preferred to act alone. He might be a bodyguard, if the client was not a criminal or a fool, deserving death. Or just a night guard at some shop as he worked in his youth, when he only started practicing yoga meditation and religious studies. And he recollected his haiku of that period:
                  All nights through
                  A cricket                  
                  Prays to the moon.
  He could write verses but in the business center of the world a haiku sounds strange. How do Japanese earn money in spite of their transcendental culture? He must learn too.
  Could he sell flowers here as he did it in Russia, where he was Timofey Somov? He tried to develop the idea, imagining a talk in a flower shop, and received refusal. They wanted young beautiful girls.
  He watched the world around him and didn’t find any contact with the new life. Sure, he had documents and some money for the start but didn’t know what to choose for the future occupation. As a writer he needed life material; writing out of pure imagination would be empty and dead, but life passed by at distance, alien and seemingly hostile. No one needed him here and as a Russian he was a competitor and a challenge to their own ideas and style. He didn’t want to oppose himself but it occurred involuntarily by the inertia of his previous life. He had to change to adapt and he wanted, but he didn’t know how.  So he hanged along the streets like an autumn leaf in the wind, hardly touching the ground and turning in the whirls.  
  Suddenly his mobile zoomed.
  - Hello, - he answered the call.
  - Is this Mani Padma, the astrologer?
  - Yes, it’s me.
  - I found your site in the web and I want to order you my personal mantra, based on my horoscope.
  - OK, I’ll call you in an hour and record your birth data. I’m now out of home.
  - OK. I’ll wait.
 He saved the phone number and went back to his small room, rented in the outskirts of New-York in an old lady’s house at the lowest price he could find. At home he called back, learnt the data and made the mantra. But money for it didn’t come. So it was just a curiosity. Astrology did not attract attention too; only his Russian acquaintance Alina ordered two horoscopes for her Russian emigrant friend and for her daughter, who had problems with her new woman boss. There were too many local astrologers in America for a newcomer to win the competition. They spent much money on advertising and occupied the whole Internet space. And they were familiar, known from interviews in newspapers and the national astrologers’ organization list. Personal mantras, based on one’s horoscope, were Tim’s own discovery, a revolutionary method unknown to the rest of mantra-yogis, both in India and USA.  But who knew it and understood? Without an advertising campaign success in America was impossible and that cost too much for him to risk all the money he had.
  The hostess entered the room and approached Tim, but suddenly stopped, gulped the air and fell to the floor. He didn’t know the phone numbers of any emergency services and called the neighbor, who called all. She was dead and the doctor said it was her heart. She was ill for many years and now had an infarction.
  Close death reminded Tim of his own insecurity and inability to solve material problems. What ever he did, all was in vain. He have already lived a long life but only started writing seriously for publishing. Before that he wrote only verses just to express his spiritual experience and vision of life, never showing them to anyone around or sending to newspapers and magazines.
 Now besides verses he had some fantasy, adventure and love stories, which he already sent to literary agents. What should he do here next? Just wait for response? No, he was not so optimistic; he should do something else right now.
  He read all newspaper advertisements, inviting guards, and finally chose the most promising. When he phoned, a female voice told him the address and the time for the colloquy. She was about thirty, beautiful, irritated and smoking. Her divorced husband was still jealous and threatened to kill her if she meets another man. She didn’t meet yet but wanted to be free to choose and would pay him well for effective protection and a good lesson to the pursuer. Her house was big enough for another inhabitant and he should live there too.
 - You may call me Jessica, or Jess. And I want you to feel at home.
 - Yes, Jessica, I like you house.
 - Than move in immediately.
 According to Jessica’s plan they began imitating love until her husband saw them dancing in the restaurant and kissing in the street. He followed them to the house to make sure he stayed there for the night and the trap was closed.
 Next morning he was waiting for them at the door with the right hand in his pocket.
 - I’ll kill now you, your man and myself, as I warned you. If you don’t return to me right now.
And he took out a pistol. Jessica cried and Tim shot. He was taught not to think before a threat and he didn’t. His reflexes made decision instead of him and the opponent collapsed.
 The whole scene was recorded by a security surveillance camera and they had no problems with police.
 - You can’t imagine how I’m exhausted, - she said at night, sitting in the armchair near the fireplace. Don’t leave me now, I need some support. I’ll pay you ten thousands for the job and if you have no place to live, you can stay here as long as you like.
  When he was asleep he saw a dream that they were making love and when he awoke he saw her in his bed. So they did it in reality too.

                                              A nephew

  So his philosophy about a right bullet was proved again, as many times before, and he found himself not as alien in this new world as when he came. He asked Jessica of some recommendation for him as a bodyguard to her friends and acquaintances and after a minute’s hesitation she called her nephew Becky.
- Hello, darling!
- Hi, Jess!  How are you? I’ve heard about the incident, he nearly killed you. Should I come to see you?
- Yes, dear. I need your help.
  When Becky entered the room, she cast a glance to Tim and went to embrace and kiss Jessica.
- Let me introduce you. This is my savior Tim. And he needs some job of a guard because for me it is done.
She looked twenty, he looked forty, very adult and serious, so she didn’t dare to flirt, though got interested in him at once. He never flirted at all, but the girl was too beautiful to be completely ignored and he kept the polite conversation going.
 She promised to ask her friends and after an hour of chat said she was still busy in her art studio and had to go. At the door Jessica whispered to her ear:
  - Only don’t fall in love with him. He is my.  
  In the evening Becky called and suggested to meet her boss, who could hire him as a night guard for the studio, where they kept, exhibited and sold their paintings. He accepted the invitation and the job without negotiations, because he didn’t like uncertainty and liked the girl. That work meant their regular contacts and he wouldn’t miss it, because he was not yet in love with any one and his heart was free.
 He came to the official closing of the studio but Becky always worked longer, paying no attention either to the clock, or to him. Her painting was alive with yellow, pink and blue and the theme was a sunrise on the sea shore.
 - Why don’t you go to the nature? – Tim asked her, when she relaxed for a minute and noticed his presence.
 - I’m not a naturalist, reality restricts imagination. I want to show my world and not what everyone can see without me.
 - Your world is warm and you look cold.
- What’s why I paint - I can’t express myself with words. By the way are you in love with my auntie?
- No, why do you think so?
- She said you are her man.
- Oh, really? Perhaps, she is right, but that’s her decision. I took no initiative and just followed her wishes.
- I see. She always takes the best, when she finds it, and never asks the other side. That’s the cause of the mistake with her husband, he was rich and she just lured him and then got tired, but he already couldn’t change his mind and let her go. He was really a terrible man and deserved his end, but she could avoid it, if she married by love. I wonder what she found in you.
- Perhaps, it was a reaction to the stress, she just wanted to relax.
- Maybe. But she told me not to fall in love with you. It means that you deserve it and that she is attached to you more than you think.
- I don’t think about it. I just don’t resist.
- Were you married?
- Yes. She left me because I didn’t earn much and was too busy with my spiritual problems.
- Do you have children?
- Two sons, it’s far away in Russia and in the past. They don’t want to know me and they think I’m a bad father, because they chose her views on life. So I’m alone and free.
- You’ll become free, when Jessica lets you go. Now you can’t offend her, because she was so unlucky and alone with her husband that now she takes a revenge on life.
- And do you have a boy-friend?
- I had, but he was too simple and practical, he didn’t understand my wishes and just wanted a family with children and a kitchen. But I’m not a servant, I want to achieve something in art and it takes your soul and time. The Muse didn’t want to share me with him and I had to ask him to go away.
 - Are you lonely?
 - No, I sublime my sexual drives in creativity and I’m OK.
 - I usually sublime them in martial arts so I’m not tied to sex and your aunt. And I think we may become friends.
  - I don’t believe in friendship of opposite sexes. Sooner or later it ends in bed. I prefer not to waste time and not to deceive myself. And you don’t deceive yourself too, if you want to sleep with me, say it directly, I won’t quarrel with you for such trifles. It’s natural, men always want sex, no matter how sublimated they are.
  He laughed and looked directly into her eyes:
 - Maybe, you inspire them with your beauty? They don’t want sex with any one.
 - I’m not sexy. I live in emotions and imagination more than in reality. So I don’t provoke them. They all want a beautiful toy, but if they get it in some time they throw it away. And I’m not so eager to turn into rubbish.
 - How long do you think your aunt will care for me?
 - Oh, it may last for several months, if you don’t find someone else. Do you want me to help you?
 - How?
 - I’ve got an idea, - she smiled enigmatically. – Do you object to watching here in the studio a nude? I’ve finished this picture and I may choose her for the next theme.
 He laughed again.
- You want to seduce me by some model to get rid of your aunt?
- Yes, she would be very beautiful, if you agree to the game.
- OK, it’s your business; I don’t interfere in your choices.
- Let’s make a bet. If I seduce you by the nude, you’ll fulfill any my desire.
- But if you’ll ask me to jump to the abyss?
- I’m not going to kill you because I like you and I want to keep your company. The worst thing could be to ask you to marry me, but perhaps I won’t. Maybe, ’m too proud to win a man by a bet and I’ll choose my husband some other way, more romantic and natural.
- And if you don’t seduce me?
- You’ll waste your time on my aunty maybe for a year. And that will be only your problem, not mine. And I will fulfill one your wish.
- OK, the bet is accepted.
 And they shook their hands. The touch was so pleasant that they held them longer than necessary and smiled, feeling a strange tie, growing between their souls, but didn’t show it, because their time hasn’t yet come.
  The nude’s name was Nancy. She was perfect and sure of herself, not a bit ashamed of the man. She even winked him as if she knew about the bet. Becky on some excuse invited Jessica to the studio to show how they work. The auntie was taken aback and confused. She sat in the corner for half an hour and, when Becky hinted that she might go, fled. At home she invited Tim to the fireplace and began diplomatic talks.
 - I know Becky and I understand that her nude is a challenge to me. That’s why she invited me. And I think she wants you.  
 - Why?
 - If I become jealous, I’ll send you away and she picks you up. She has a flat of her own and you can move there to live.
 - I can rent a room, if I need. I earn enough.
 - I foresaw it at the beginning but didn’t believe my intuition. She has fallen in