Present-day readers of Sanatorium Arktur might be sceptical about the communist glorification of strenuous labour for the benefit of the regime, and rightly so, especially given that the USSR’s economy in the 1930s relied heavily on the labour of more than two million prisoners in the inhumane conditions of the Gulag camps. Levshin’s work to electrify Siberia would effectively consist in commanding an army of such prisoners—a reality that Fedin’s novel conveniently glosses over.
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No one came to save me.
The police never came.
Earl, Cecelia, and Cliff never barged in, knocking down iron bars to set me free. My family never burst through the stone wall of my cell to get me out.
I never rose up in a sterile hospital bed to find my family surrounding me.
Deep in the marrow of my bones—something instilled in me since I was a child—assured me that someone would come and save me. That some type of guardians would come to help me, the police or firemen, the army or the FBI, perhaps a hidden sector of the government that I had never heard of before.
Someonewould show up to help me.
A familiar face would suddenly arrive and draw me into a firm hug. My nose would fill with scents of comfort and safety from being smashed against their shoulder hastily. They would wipe my tears and tell me everything would be okay, that I would be safe. They would squeeze me tightly. The very moment their arms circled me, the tension would wane from my muscles because I would know that I was safe and that they would take care of me—that no one else could hurt me.
But no one ever came.
Jk okudu diye okumaya başlayan bir Army
Özgüvenle, kendiniz olmak, kendiniz gibi yaşamak yanlış değil.
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All was prepared – the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army like a lion from his den
Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain,
Immediately in others grew again.
Alessandro ‘Alpha’ Villanova
The fact that he was relaxed, that there was no security, that he and Tristan hadn't been stripped of weapons before meeting him told Dante exactly how lethal the man before him was. Unlike his father who had relied on his army of security to keep him safe, this man was a warrior king, who had amassed his army by fighting and winning.
A CARCASS
(…)
The flies buzzed and droned on these bowels of filth
Where an army of maggots arose,
Which flowed with a liquid and thickening stream
On the animate rags of her clothes.
And it rose and it fell, and pulsed like a wave,
Rushing and bubbling with health.
One could say that this carcass, blown with vague breath,
Lived in increasing itself.
And this whole teeming world made a musical sound
Like babbling brooks and the breeze,
Or the grain that a man with a winnowing-fan
Turns with a rhythmical ease. (…)
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