East Bound - Russia x Germany

Saratov

Now what I don't like to be reminded of is the past. I just...don't. As the train rattled on to the next station, Saratov, I sat in my compartment, alone. I was content with being alone, since Germany would only pester me with his own little problems. For now, I could spend some time in my own thoughts, away from other people.

I wasn't a social person anyway. My work in a quiet laboratory running numbers on a screen didn't involve talking to people, maybe just some staffers and colleagues inside, but mostly I kept to myself. We might have a whole employee meeting once a month, and I would prepare a packet, but nonetheless, I crunched numbers and wrote out infinite series. I had some friends, maybe not as many as America, the big loudmouth politician, but I had three. Two came from my workplace, and one was a really old childhood friend. My flat in Berlin was spacious and upper end. It was too empty for me, so I lived with my sister Belarus. She cooks (very nicely) cleans (not much to clean) and beggs (unsuccessfully) me to do something that wasn't work. I was lucky to leave the army before my eight years were up. It was because of a sustained, almost even fatal injury, though its not much of a conversation topic. Belarus was in Agricultural Management and mostly on remote, so she was at home most of the time. She left me during the summer to go visit father. I haven't visited him for years now. I hold this grudge against him.

At perfect timing, Germany slides into the compartment. "Hi."

"Hello." I said gruffly. He sits down opposite of me, smiling.

"Sorry for that." He apologised. "I just got ahead of myself. I don't know many people who actually went to my university at that time."

"Fine." I muttered. "But I don't have any information about that. I've forgotten, and don't want to remember." Fortunately, he didn't press for further information. Instead, he steered the conversation towards the present.

"So...um, you mentioned what you do, and I was wondering..." He was trying to find the words.

"The details?"

Relief stamped his face. He wouldn't have to explain himself. "Yes."

I shrugged. "Well, nothing much. I work in a lab, as I said. We do biotechnology, and I just do their number calculations. We're all a factory there. Biologists do their thing, physicists and engineers do theirs, researchers do their own, and us five mathematics people have our task. We barely even meet. We have a monthly meeting, and everyone is nice and perfect." I realised that my life sounded like heaven. It wasn't, really. I had my own problems.

"Oh, nice."

"So, yeah." I had nothing else to say. "You?"

"Well, I have a job. That's progress." He said jokingly. "I'm a part time librarian and I also have my graduate salary, which to say, isn't much. But I live."

"Hmm, I see."

"I used to like biology." He smiled. "But then I kind of diverted, and ended up here."

"Maybe if you didn't, you'd probably never have known me." I said lightly.

"Probably not." He looked at the train schedule once more. "Where is Saratov?"

"Somewhere." I took off my jacket. "They have a great open air Tank museum. It's called Park Pobeda, Victory Park. They also have the Radischev Art museum, it has a lot of Avant-garde art works. So, all in all, it's not as boring as you'd think."

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"Go to Lipki park." I ate some of the chicken with lavash'. "And maybe Park Pobeda. Who knows how long the conductor wants to stay?"