Seeds of the modern world.

From the Story Arc: The march of time.

Previous Story in the Arc: The beginning. by Uncle Joe. (Tuesday, December 26, 2006)

Next Story in the Arc: The beginning of the end. by Uncle Joe. (Tuesday, December 26, 2006)

(posted Tuesday, December 26, 2006)

Part 2. Seeds of the modern world.


December, 10th 1943. Moscow, U.S.S.R.

(Nine days after the Tehran Conference.)

Cold. A cold to take the fear of death out of a weak man. Almost a living thing, a predator that stalked man and beast alike, A biting cold that could only exist on the wide flat face of Russia, and no matter who you were, the peasant farmer on the collective, the solder in his rifle pit, the worker in a steel factory, you feared and respected that terrible thing.
At the moment Vyacheslav Molotov had a greater concern than the cycle of nature. His great fear was in dealing with her.

"Tatiyana Belastovia Melonia........who does not exist."

Molotov carried under his arm a packet of dispatches from Stalin himself, reports from the conference. And Madam Melonia would want to hear them told to her. This had become the norm of things since Stalin had decreed that in his absence major information was to be reported to the lady.

Molotov stopped outside her door. Took a moment to arrange himself, though he might be frightened by the woman, he would not show it. As he raised his fist to knock on the door her voice came drifting from the other side.

"Enter child."

It was uncanny how she always knew when someone was at her door.
Entering the room Molotov found her lounging on a sofa set next to the fire place. Clothed in black silks and a fur comforter over her legs, very shapely legs if the truth were told. Molotov took a moment to study this strange woman, she looked young, perhaps twenty and two years of age, but that could not be, she was known to have ties with the Tsar's and the mad monk Rasputin.

Her hair fell like a blue black river over her pale slim shoulders, hers was a woman's body, but it was her face that always caught the eye, delicate features, almost as if she were sculpted of china. And almond shaped eyes of gold, not the honey of Stalin's, but like a polished coin. And they saw everything.......and knew.....they always knew what you were thinking. If the story's were true this.....this girl was older than Russia it's self. The peasants spoke of her in mingled tones of wonder and fear, it was said that she was the wife of a Cesar. Some claimed that she was one of the heavenly choir come to earth to mock and punish us. Still others claim she was one of the whores saved by Christ, whatever the story she was a mystery and not to be taken lightly as Beria had learned the first time that Stalin had left for his southern retreat leaving the lady in the Kremlin, Beria had sent several of his secret police to arrest the lady.......the screams.....no one would ever forget them.
But what shocked Molotov this day was to see a large book in the lap of the lady. As far as he knew the lady did not....

"Read?"

Molotov looked into those golden eyes but had nothing to say.

"Yes child I can read.....most every language in the world.....you are surprised?"

"With your having us read to you the reports.....I assumed..."

"You assumed that I was a dirt peasant from Siberia......no child there a great deal of things I do that none of you see."

That was no boast, it was known that the lady had a hunger that could rival that of any Cossack. The scandal of the day was that her current lover was an American Marine stationed with there diplomatic mission to the Union.

"If I choose to have you read the reports to me it is of no concern to you.....now what does Joseph have to tell me."

"The conference with Churchill and Roosevelt went well, an agreement to widen the war in the west was made, to take pressure off our front, also Roosevelt wanted a commitment in Asia against Japan."

The lady looked into the fire for such a time that Molotov began to think that she had forgotten his presence, than looking back at him, for a second Molotov thought her eyes were the color of blood.

"Joseph will make no agreement in Asia, not until America finishes it's terror weapon. The Germans are loosing ground and Hitlers cronies are letting there control of the situation slip from there grasp."

"You were speaking with Red Choir Boy again?"

"Please, he is a man after all. While he is no friend to you or your government he understands the need to defeat the Fascist. We are merely in a position to bring it about. If the west were more prepared for this war it would be to them his reports would go."

"I do not trust this Von Sturm character......a German national, immigrant to America, and a hero of there's.......what does he call himself?"

The lady shook her head.

"The Nightmare child......perhaps a bit silly, but such is the way of the west.....but remember this, Erick's is a powerful mind, and it is because of him we know the enemy's plans as they are made."

"As long as you tell him nothing of our plans Madam."

She laughed, a silvery sound that chilled Molotov.

"Your little dabble in the way's of god are safe child. I have told him nothing of your.....failures."

"Lenin's Glory will produce the results we seek Madam......I assure you of this."

"Of course child....you may leave me now."

Gritting his teeth Molotov nodded his head and turned to leave the room. Once outside of the room he let his composure go, and shivered not from the cold, but from the presence of the lady, like a mouse released by a cat that finds it no longer interesting.
But she did not know.....something wonderful had been created in the laboratory, something that would change the very world it's self.
There would be a hero of the Soviet Union, created by it's superior science, and from the man of steel himself. They had created the man of the future, now all that they needed was time....time for him to grow.