柈(ha-n） 60stars Astrology " Comrade Lavrentij" ①

60 Stars Astrology 

English　Version

By　TOKYOｰTANUKI

柈(ha-n）　60stars　Astrology　

" Comrade Lavrentij "  ①

Chapter I: The Paper

January, 1940.

Snow was falling over Moscow.

Snow erased sound.
And when sound vanished, a man became aware only of the rustle of paper.

No snow entered the office in the Kremlin.
Yet the whiteness beyond the window seemed to seep into the room, bleaching even the smoke from Stalin's pipe.

Stalin laid a single sheet of paper upon his desk.
Beria stood in silence.
Neither man spoke for some time.
Only the clock continued its measured count.

Stalin rested a finger upon the paper.
"Comrade Lavrentiy."
"Yes."
"There is a curious movement in Georgia."
Beria waited.
"Someone is preparing a counter-revolution."
"Shall I have him arrested?"
"No."
Stalin slowly shook his head.
"Not yet."

Silence.

A fragment of ash fell from his pipe.
Taking up a pencil, Stalin began to write.

1+((1+0)+(1+1))×((1+0)+(1+0))=7

He set the pencil down.
"Seven."

Beria studied the formula.
"It is seven."

"Is that all you see?"
"...Yes."
Stalin said nothing.

Beyond the window, the snow continued to fall.
He picked up the pencil again.
This time he wrote in larger figures.

1+((2)+(2))×((2)+(1.5))=15

Beneath it, he added only one line.

> 15 = 5 + 5 + 5

Beria narrowed his eyes.

Fifteen.
Five.
Five.
Five.

Nothing else happened upon the page.

"Comrade Stalin."
"Yes."
"I don't understand..."

Stalin did not let him finish.

"Lavrentiy."
"Yes."
"The answer is not on the paper."

Beria looked down.
"Then where?"

Stalin continued to gaze through the window.
Snow still drifted across the Kremlin.
"In men."

Silence returned.

Beria lifted the sheet.
The numbers were dry.
Only the pencil strokes seemed strangely alive.

At last Stalin spoke again.
"Look beyond our borders."
"Beyond..."
"There is a man who claims Party Number Seven."

Nothing more.

Beria asked no questions.
He already knew that none would be answered.
He folded the paper and placed it inside his case.
He saluted.

He turned toward the door.

"Lavrentiy."
Beria stopped.
Stalin was still looking at the snow.
"One more thing."
"Yes."

"Even when the sequence appears the same..."

The sentence broke off.
Another fleck of ash drifted onto the desk.

A long silence followed.
Only then did Stalin finish.
"...its birth is different."
That was all.

Beria inclined his head.
He did not understand.
The corridor beyond the office was silent.
The snow could no longer be heard.

He drew the paper from his case once more.
Seven.
Fifteen.
Five.
Five.
Five.
There was no answer written anywhere.
Only rows of parentheses.

That night Beria could not sleep.
Even in his dreams,
the parentheses swayed quietly.
（To be continued)

Tanu-chan💓　TOKYO-TANUKI💛