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Against It!
Red. redredred againTwo lines of different letters, digits and other symbols floated monotonously across the screen.
There was no use in watching it anymore. There was no reason to pay attention, so he didnt; it was over for him. Instead, he looked at a tall crystal glass with brown liquid at the bottom, and tried to guess the color of the symbols on the running tape in the reflection of the engraved cursive letters Kiev-Boryspil. It was not hard, it was all red.
It was funny how everybody used to like red. Three months ago red meant opportunity. You see red today you buy it, it turns green tomorrow. It always did, at least for the last two years. Two joyful years when he finally began feeling that he was somebody. A respectful person with a sense of security, with the right to be one of them.
He stood up, filled up his glass, put the bottle on top of the TV-set, and strode towards the large chest of drawers in the opposite corner of the room. He opened one of them and dug through his girlfriends collection of underwear.
He liked watching her wearing them around the kitchen in the mornings. She wore the best underwear in the morning on purpose. Said it helped to wake him up. There was nothing to watch anymore. She was far away and they didnt let her back. Thats what you get for wanting to see your family.
He tried to analyze the chances to bring her back, they were not comforting. According to the law a person with her status (with the absence of the status to be exact) didnt have a right of reentry for at least three years. That was according to the law. The reality, in its turn, suggested that she would never be allowed.
He remembered the crowds of people queuing up every morning in front of the embassy. Hundreds and hundreds of people united with one goal, compassionate to the rejected and hatefully envious to the few lucky ones. The weirdest place for an ordinary post communist citizen. Practically the only place in the country where they called you sir or a madam.
So, how much do you make a month you said, sir? Thirty dollars, sir? One could almost see them laughing when people said that they were planning to go back as soon as they visit the dying grandmother-in-law or a suddenly found aunt who got lost under repressions of the communist regime. And, of course, most of them didnt have any chances. Even if their stories were true and they indeed intended to go back, their current state was so pitiful that they were rejected simply out of mercy. The Land of Opportunity was not for the weak ones. If you didnt make it in your own country, there was nothing out there for you. And with the felony like she had, reentry would simply be out of question.
It was damn good to hold that baby in his hands. Magnum 357, all greased inside and polished clean on the outside bought at the gun show allegedly from an ex-CIA agent. An exceptional piece in any gun collection.
Ten years ago he wouldnt believe if somebody told him he was going to have one. He liked guns all his life. He used to draw them all the time at the lectures of physics in the university, both that he graduated from. He didnt draw guns at the lectures of the third one, may be this is why he never graduated. They revoked his diploma and degree as soon as he walked away from the exchange program that sponsored him.
He twiddled the gun in his hands and aimed it at the bottle. Having lived in the country for so long he still couldn't believe how easy it was to get a weapon. It never surprised him that yet another kid shot a whole bunch of people at some school. Would he want his kids to grow up in this country? Partially, that was the reason he got here and stayed. An attempt to secure his future and the future of those close to him was his original goal. He knew he was not coming back as soon as he learned that his mom had to sell all dads war medals in order to buy the necessary medicine for his heart surgery. He knew he had to do something to protect them, and he knew there was no way for him to fail.
He recalled being surprised with his foreign college friends. He couldnt comprehend how people could spend hours playing computer games, smoking weed, drinking ruthlessly while there were so many opportunities out there. I my car, I my computer, I my clothes were frequent substitutes for my dads car, the computer that my parents bought me, clothes that were given to me for Christmas and were usually pronounced with undisguised pride and self admiration. Not all of them were like that, but there were quite enough of them to make him get determined that everything he would achieve, he would achieve himself.
He never gave up when the best job he could get with three degrees was unloading airplane baggage. Speaking four languages didnt bother him to bend his back just as much as those who were barely literate in their own language. He took what was left for him and made the best out it. Investing everything he earned was his way of showing them that even an illegal immigrant could do much better than most of them. He was almost there
His thoughts were interrupted by a tune of his phone. Market closes in fifteen minutes,- the telephone said, -and if you dont have the money to cover your margin losses we would be forced to sell your position
He didnt let it finish. For a mere moment he realized the whole meaning of those words. The last portion of his investment was going down the drain and there wasnt a thing he could do about it. There was no way one could cover five margin calls a week. Now this last one had been taken care of. The was nothing out there for him anymore
He tightened his hand around the Magnum and looked at the screen for the last
time; the market was closing one hundred and fifty points lower again. He would not
have to stare at that TV any longer. He closed his eyes and pulled the
trigger.
A short click indicated that the mechanism was in order. He would hate to sell the gun
03/05/2001
* This is only the second edition of the story. The story is expected to be altered even more in the future.