.jpg)
All material presented on this website is original work of the author and is copyrighted with the US Copyright Office & Library of Congress. This material is for your view and entertainment only. Any unauthorized commercial distribution is prohibited.
ME
My name is Tim. I was born on July 20th, 1969 in the capital of Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, hero-city Almaty. On July 20th, as they say, the man, for the first time, made it to the moon. And I – to planet Earth. I always wanted to be born earlier, to be more of an adult, when perestryka began. I studied one semester in medical college, but was expelled for a fight. Then, Moscow Cinematographic Institute, faculty of scriptwriting. I quit my studies after three semesters, repatriated to Israel, then moved to the US. There I have graduated a university with Masters degree in ancient history, specializing in the 12th century BC, so called Middle Bronze. I am a businessman, I own few companies, including international ones. I got married, divorced, houses, kids, wives, mistresses, standard life of a man.
“Here ends the seventh, and the last book.”
Aloysius Bertrand, Gaspard de la Nuit.
Selected Fragments
Business trip again. I feel like a nomad. I pack a suitcase in an hour. A few suits, pressed shirts, shorts, swimwear. Conferences are always in the tropics, probably scientists want to tan as well. I knew everybody at the check-in.
“Good morning, Mr. Veller! How are you doing, Mr. Veller?”
A familiar stewardess brought me champagne, she knew that I wanted to knock myself out at breakfast and sleep through the flight. The primitive airport at my destination didn’t have a jetway, so the air strip workers had to bring a stair car. The southern sun had blinded me immediately, but I had sunglasses ready in the pocket of my blazer. The air was stuffy. I followed a dark-skinned, short airport employee, who led us on her crooked legs to passport control.
The conference wasn’t very interesting. The lectures were dull, and many of the delegates didn’t speak good English.
They found oil in Bisharaz. Frank has to fly there urgently to recruit and train personnel, build infrastructure; the land was already acquired by the firm.
He never saw such a miserable airport in his life. An old, crooked building with a straw roof. By its side, a few wrecked, ancient war planes were rusting out. A brand-new, shiny American jet, humming, rolled down the airstrip like an alien starship that landed on a faraway God-forgotten planet.
There was a lot of work to do: gym in the morning, (poor hotel breakfast), business meetings, enormous numbers of phone calls and emails, and constant reports to headquarters. In the evening, he would Skype with his family. Saturday was sunny, the hotel was right on the seashore, and Frank eagerly stretched his body out on the chez.
It was a cold Moscow evening and my feet were already soaked through. I was wearing shoes, ripped blue jeans and a grey coat with a white scarf. That's how we dressed in winter in my native Kazakhstan, and I wasn't planning on changing my habits in the capital. At first, I didn't like Moscow, but I soon became used to it. It's a soulless, grey, cruel and cold city. Just try to run across Kutuzovsky Avenue. I once stood for half an hour waiting for a gap in the traffic, then ended up having to walk to the crossing. Half a block in one direction, down a gloomy, piss-soaked underpass, then half the block back.
I was doing well in my studies, was even receiving a scholarship for my good grades, and my relatives conscientiously sent me money from all ends of the country. We always came back from the summer break on the train – it took three days to get from Alma-Ata to Moscow – and we would bring back a few suitcases of top-quality cannabis from the Chuy Valley. We would sell it wholesale to local dealers, and have enough money to fund a comfortable student life.
IN THE PRESS
Alvitania is really refreshing, with its grim humor and phenomenal plots. This book is a perfect blend of SF fantasy and postmodern prose. It is deep, and also really fun to read. Inside you’ll find hidden worlds, space adventure, pseudo-history, diabolic creatures, and lots of highly-intelligent fools. Don’t miss it.
Sheryl McKinley,
The Watchtower
