Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 87. We're Here! Part One

We're here!

Part One

The morning arrived and sunlight shone through the little windows at the top of the outer walls. A perfect day for seeing what was out there. I could hear the happy birds chirping and singing welcoming the new day. (You know the walls were thick stone and unless it was one of the military planes, I couldn't have heard them. I have a good imagination, so I create my own Disney moments.)

Peter's reaction to what was said the night before was humorous. He knew better than a lot of Makarovians did about the world. His chosen isolation had created an image of Makarovia. Principles he knew full well for the world out there, but not in Makarovia. The exchange of what someone has to another to get something they desired started way back in the past. That was where the idea of civilization came from. Trade made many things possible. We had left caves behind and now were nomads. We moved with our prey. I wonder how the first human plopped down and said, "I'm tired of this. I refuse to walk another foot!" Of course, it was said in the appropriate grunts of early language. I'm sure his feelings on the matter were articulated well. He wasn't budging. Or she! I've known a lot of women that when their minds are made up don't easily change their minds.

The usual first thing for people hit me. I had to pee. I grinned as the constant protection was there. Peter's arm was around me as he spooned behind me. I also figured out it wasn't even for my security, but for Peter's; I was his teddy bear! I know I've told you even as a child I didn't share my bed with anyone or anything, but with Peter, I made myself get used to it. I suppose I don't need to tell you my feelings about Peter, but I have to tell you; I found it more comfortable during the winter. Air conditioning was almost unheard of in Makarovia. The temperature rarely rose to eighty-five degrees in the peak of a day in the summer. Night temperatures lowered into the low seventies and sixties. That's in Fahrenheit, not in Celsius obviously. Peter was a warm person, and I'm not talking about his disposition! I lived my whole life in the South in the United States and I knew what it was like to be hot and sticky when sleeping and I can say I am miserable when hot. Charleston was the worst I ever experienced. We had a severe hurricane and power was out a week. The heat and humidity were horrible!

I know, another rabbit. This is just a small one. "Don't wiggle your cute nose at me, now scoot, scoot!" I do like rabbits. It was a misconception that rabbits are rodents. They are not, though they do share an ancestor with rats… See!? I'm doing it again! Sorry.

Peter generated some heat! Nature's call could not be ignored, so I raised his arm gently as I could and I had yet found a way to do it without waking him up. It wasn't bad to be someone's teddy bear. We all usually have transitional objects in life to be comfortable during our transition from one stage of life to the other such as infancy to childhood, from there to teenagers. Many grown adults keep that object with them their entire life so they can remember and get comfort in that. I had them, I just didn't sleep with one. I could really go after that rabbit, but I'll spare you. I found solace in the fact that I brought a sense of security having me with him. It is a little codependent, but aren't married couples suppose to be? His hold on me tightened as it always did. I rolled over kissing him quickly.

"I'll be right back," I said softly.

I said so often now, even in his sleep clouded mind he knew what had to happen. He released his hold and mumbled something, I couldn't understand if it was an apology or just an acknowledgment. Whatever. I got up and did what I needed to do. Often times, it triggered something in Peter. He would begin waking up and so did his bodily functions. I met him as he headed to do the same on the way back to our bed.

"I was comfortable," Peter grumbled as he passed.

I smiled, "And you'll never be comfortable again."

"That's not the point," Peter's voice came.

In the years I have known him now, he was never mean. I knew him too well to fall for his "annoyance" act.

"You're right, it's not," I said. "The point was I was uncomfortable. If you hadn't let me up, we would both be uncomfortable in a wet bed."

I heard another grunt as he walked out, "It's all about you."

I nodded, "A minute or two ago; Hell, yes, it most certainly was." Grinning at him, "I have got to say, your delivery has improved greatly."

Peter smiled and shook his head, "I can never fool you, can I?"

"I wouldn't want you to be able to," I said simply. "We have a good marriage. Trust is important. Communication is important."

His arms came around me. He chuckled, "We do those two things very well." He said kissing me. "Good morning."

I smiled, "Good morning." You now know how my mind works. "Do those windows open?"

The sudden topic leap I made baffled him a second or two, "What?" He asked as he processed what I'd said. "The windows?" He asked and pointed up at one, "You mean those windows?"

I nodded, "It makes sense." I said. "Palaces and living quarters of royalty, especially in Eygpt, were higher than the houses surrounding it. Why?"

"Because they are better than everyone else?"

"That was just one of the reasons. They did the same in Italy and other countries," I tapped his chest. "The other reason was to keep the stench of waste and all those human and animal bodies away. The most important reason was for fresh air and to catch the cool breezes!"

Peter shook his head again, "Why do you know this?"

"I remember it from World History,"

"Okay," Peter nodded as he looked up at the window. "You want to open the windows."

"Just a couple." I sort of pleaded. "You know I love you to death. I'd never hurt you."

"But?" Peter turned his head to look at me and said suspiciously wanting me to just say it.

"I was hot last night," I said. "You generate a great deal of heat." I saw his eyes widen so I hurried on, "Which is great except for the next month! Can we get a fan or something? Circulate the air." I waved at the palace. "This whole palace and fortress were constructed to hold in heat! That is usually the most needed. Those vents in the fireplaces and lower ceiling in the bed-chamber work very well when it's cold."

"And last night you were hot." Peter nodded, "But I made it worse." He said a little sadly.

"This is one of the times I don't like Grandma's rule," I said pulling him close. "It's not something you do on purpose. It's a simple request to get some air circulated. We're up high enough so it should be easy enough to solve the problem." I smiled at him. "I'm not blaming you for what you can't control. I will say this, though. I always heard castles were often cold and drafty. Whatever Makarovians did with this place, it isn't drafty."

Peter looked up at the window, "I have never had anyone open one before." He shrugged. "I'll have to ask." He took it well. Before he blamed himself often about problems caused by his family and his position. He even blamed himself for losing the apartment during the first year. He didn't take any blame this time. "There is normally a radio signal from the palace sent at nine."

I knew what he was talking about. His topic leap didn't baffle me. "In the morning or at night?"

Peter's smile grew. However, it really wasn't the same. We had been talking about it last night. My question about the windows and circulating air was from out of nowhere.

"Yes," Peter grinned. "Someone in each town is to listen each time."

"So, every twelve hours a radio broadcast is sent." I nodded.

"Strictly about Makarovia," Peter replied. "In private homes the person in residence is responsible. The mayors and village leaders are responsible to let everyone know. With the international networks reporting much of the news, there are times when there is nothing to report, but we send a signal..." he thought about what to say, "Such as those emergency test signals in the United States. If they don't get one, they need to find out why not."

"Okay," I said, "That's logical." Now, I had to be careful. Not that I'd be hurt or Peter would be hurt, but I could challenge his national pride. "I am Makarovian," I said proudly. "I can't think of more generous and caring people. You're all smart..."

"But," Peter asked again.

"You are people that have been conditioned and for generations and taught to do things, such as hide, or depend on others to bring you what you need. I don't think you realize how far that goes." I waved at our television and computer. "News and entertainment are brought in by someone else! We've kept our language and customs; we are all proud to be Makarovian! Everything we bring in is done in Ukrainian, Romanian or English." I gave a grudging nod, "I know there are others and I think that's great! The children watch Vulystsya Sezam," I saw his brow wrinkle, "Sesame Street? You know Bert, Ernie, Elmo, Big Bird..." I saw Peter's smile and nod, so I went on. "That's in Ukrainian! They learn Makarovian at home and at school. Wouldn't be nice to see and hear it in Makarovian?"

"But they need to learn other languages," Peter argued.

I threw my hands out in futility. "Is there any choice not to?" I brought his head toward mine causing our foreheads to touch. "A Makarovian reporting about things in Makarovia, speaking in Makarovian will help boost that pride." I kissed him deeply and then said, "That gives us two broadcasts to get the word out that WMNN, Makarovian News Network will be on the Internet!"

Peter grinned, "WMNN? Aren't those letters claimed? You said it wouldn't be a network."

"The letters I'm sure are being used already," I said. "If the radio and internet program is working together, it will be a network!"

Peter chuckled, "We're really going to do this?"

I nodded, "We're doing this!"

After a shower and clean clothes, we went down to get our necessities. Coffee was one of those. As it always was in East Europe, breakfast was very substantial. Makarovians loved their bread. Not sweet rolls. I'm sure they'd make them if we asked, but there were whole-grain slices of toasted bread, a skillet breakfast of scrambled eggs, peppers, cheese, and kielbasa! It was good, but not done by Henri or Boris.

We had the family dining room to ourselves. Either everyone had eaten and left early or they hadn't gotten up yet. We were up a little late the night before.

It was already a little after nine, but I knew we'd miss that one. Tonight and in the morning would be the two I mentioned.

Olek smiled a smile of comfortable satisfaction. "I'm surprised to see anyone still here."

Manners and etiquette were observed as Peter and I stood up as Helga sat.

"Peter's showing me Stryia," I said.

"But first," Peter began and asked about the windows which I found out could open, but hasn't been in thirty years or so except to keep them clean.

When I was asked why, I merely said. "The Secret Garden." You know I love to do this. I got three curious looks. I'm certain psychiatric professionals have theories about the need I have. "The book and several movies where a little girl helps her wealthy but sickly cousin recover by exposing him to clean air and sunshine in the hidden garden the sick cousin's dead mother had built."

Helga was nodding as she smiled, remembering it fondly, "Der Geheime Garten. I remember that."

It wasn't hard for me to know that it was the same title but in German.

"Peter and I aren't sick, but fresh air can't hurt," I shrugged.

"He says I give off too much heat," Peter grumbled.

Helga burst out laughing. "So does Olek!"

I waved at Helga, but looked at Peter, "See!?"

Peter grinned, but let it go. "Second," and he explained what we thought needed to be done. Olek, like Peter, was unaware anything was missing. I use the idiom again with a twist. How do you fix something you don't even know is broken?

I shrugged, "Really we can do it now. I know the computer in your office and bedroom have cameras that allow us to see and speak by way of the Internet. Yuri knows how to get it on the monitors and television screens in Makarovia."

"There will even be Makarovian commercials," Peter muttered.

Olek frowned, "Do we have to?"

I laughed, "Olek, don't you want to know which deodorant to use or who to go to when there's a problem with bugs?"

Helga was also loving this, "Or what works the best with feminine hygiene or even erectile dysfunction?" She grinned at Olek and then said patting his hand, "I'm sure no Ivanov at this table has to worry about that."

"Not yet," Olek chuckled.

"A well thought out commercial can be entertaining," I said. "There are many that are hilarious!"

No one said it was a bad idea. I hoped the broadcast idea would go over well. It wouldn't have the polish that CNN or the BBC had, but that would improve with time. It's human nature to become bored and lazy at times. Makarovia had not become lazy because of the need to prepare for the severe cold weather that would arrive as early as the beginning of October. A program aimed at Makarovians to warn them ahead of time would be very helpful. Our neighboring countries had the same weather, but Makarovia was a big valley. The mountains that ringed us seemed to hold the snow and ice storms when they hit. Romania, Hungary, and part of Poland suffered too, but they had the infrastructure to deal with it. We were building that infrastructure. Makarovia's underground was just the beginning. The idle time when the weather caused isolation could be used to educate and warn them about the threats from scammers and so many others in the world.

Before Peter could show me around Stryia, we needed to speak with Yuri.

Yuri, for now, was easy to find. He was in charge of Makarovian Security. Not the military. They aren't the same. Security Agents were military but assigned to Yuri's control. The militia in Makarovia didn't need a Navy or an Air Force. They were an Army. When one of the Makarovian young people did their mandatory two-year service, the members that showed promise were asked to do more than just stand guard or clean up the barracks. They can move on in the Army as Mercea had done and became an agent, which I learned was very difficult for anyone to just do. They could go into law enforcement and other things that needed to be manned.

Yuri was sitting at a computer in the office for security. He smiled at us as we entered that said he knew why we came. "You still want to broadcast King Olek's announcement to Makarovia."

"That's the plan," I said. "In as far as the connection and feed to show it on the monitors, that includes the televisions, what do we need to do?"

Yuri chuckled, "We have a camera that can send a signal, it really doesn't have any particular destination," He sat back. "It's who is going to receive it we need to think about. We have a webpage for Makarovia already. Sending that signal to the webpage and telling the user to open another window to see it. The televisions will have to be set to receive the digital signal." He raised a finger and added, "but not everyone in Makarovia can get a digital signal. The change over from analog to digital is still ongoing in Makarovia. Many had to get those converters for the television to see your wedding," he shrugged, "or go to the Grotto or other places to see it. It shouldn't be a problem."

I nodded, "Which language is Olek using?"

Yuri looked surprised, "I assume it will be in English. Almost all European countries speak English and translate English."

"Yes," I agreed, "Almost all European countries speak English, but not everyone in those countries can speak English."

Yuri's brow wrinkled, "I guess they caption it or do a voiceover."

I shook my head, "And almost none can speak Makarovian." I shrugged. "Ukrainians can probably make sense of it if they listen carefully."

Peter looked at me puzzled, "This news conference is to the world, not just Makarovia."

"You want to force them to speak Makarovian?" Yuri asked.

"No," I shook my head. "I'm talking to you and Peter in Makarovian. This is our conversation. If our future Step-Aunt Maria came in, she may have to have someone who speaks Italian for her to understand our conversation."

Yuri nodded, "Oh, I see." He shrugged and smiled evilly. "We could do it this time and make everybody scramble to figure it out."

Peter chuckled, "No, Yuri. We're trying to get people to know us and like us, alienate them."

It puzzled me why Peter, Olek, and Yuri weren't understanding what I was talking about. But thinking about it there were things about all of them. Helga understood. She was raised and educated in the West. Remember, Germany, France, Great Britian, and others were part of the West. not just the United States and Canada. Oppression caused a lot of behaviors in people. Peter and Olek were like most in Makarovia and used to hiding and staying out of the spotlights. Olek was willing to step out in the world to change that, but sometimes things slipped by him. Both Yuri and Boris were born and had their childhoods in Russia when it was controlled by the Soviets. After the USSR fell apart the freedom to do what you desired was a struggle to deal with. Boris' and Yuri's desire for each other caused the need to hide and stay out of the spotlights. Russia was still not gay friendly. According to Yuri and Boris, many of the tactics were used by the KGB were used by the modern police. Well, they were modern years ago before Boris and Yuri fled Russia for Makarovia. They still had a hard time showing affection to each other when I first came to the townhouse in Boston. They knew Peter and I were fine with it and were gay ourselves. Yuri was the one that had the biggest problem with that.

My original point with this was, what I saw plain as daylight about what to do, they had to come around to that thinking. I was determined to make that happen for all Makarovians. I hoped this Network of potential shows would help with that.

"Who is going to head this up?" Yuri asked me, "You?"

I quickly shook my head, "Absolutely not! My plate is full enough as it is! I've got the uranium processing, the overseeing of medical and educational needs of Makarovia, I have the Makarovian arts…" I turned to Peter, "And about that, I've seen some beautiful paintings and sculptures, are you telling me there are no writers in Makarovia. There is Milo's journal, but that was in German. Other writings are published on our webpage, but there have to be others. Where are they?""

Peter's eyes widened, but he was smiling, "I don't know! We've been rather busy." I could see his body shudder a little as he laughed silently.

I shook my head, "Not that busy. And where are those lost treasures? Huh? The search for them, has it been abandoned?"

"Of course not," Yuri said grinning. "I know King Olek has some older miners who knew the mines of the past looking. Especially now while it's warm."

"Fine," I groused. "What about translating existing literature?"

"The reading adults can read plenty of literature," Yuri said.

"Fine again," I said. "And the children?"

"They learn to read English and other languages," Yuri argued.

My eye narrowed as I pointed at him, "Did you read Kot V Shliape or Slon Khorton vysizhivaet iaitso?"

Yuri was now laughing, but Peter spoke Russian and said, "The Cat in the Hat? Horton hatches the Egg?"

I motioned at Yuri, "He knows what those are!" I wasn't angry. It was really quite amusing. "Dr. Seuse wrote some great stuff! I don't believe there's but a handful of people that don't know it. My favorites were Are you my Mother and Green Eggs and Ham."

"There are copyrights and all that…" Peter added.

"So? They did it in Russian! They would love to do in Makarovian." I pointed again at Yuri. "We'll need some people to work on this. I know they have computers to translate on the screens what's said in captions a language they understand. Why can't we?"

Yuri shrugged, "We can, but not by tomorrow afternoon."

"What happens tomorrow we'll deal with as before," I said simply and then looked at Peter. "Do you feel you have enough duties?"

"What!?" This time the tone of his voice wasn't just for effect. "I can't do that! I'm still working on the city planning…"

"Relax," I said, "We need someone who will be in Makarovia a while to do the job. You and I are still getting degrees. I know some of the projects you're working on to improve Makarovia and a lot is coming." I smiled at him. "I think the first one should be by someone they love and trust," I patted his chest. "That's you!"

Yuri nodded, "He's right."

"Then we find a Makarovians who are extroverts, have good personalities, and not afraid of cameras," I insisted and waved my arm at the outer wall. "We have millions of Makarovian possibilities! Someone has to be able to do this!"