Words to Live By - A Countryhumans SovAme Story

Act I, Chapter IV - Thunder

March 1933

Geneva, Switzerland

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The brilliant Genevan sun shone overhead as I walked along a forested path, Lake Geneva directly to my right. I was walking in the general direction of our meeting building, but I had quite a bit of time to kill, so I wasn't walking with much of a purpose. A bird fluttered from branch to branch on my left side, captivating my attention for a moment. It seemed, in the reality that was the Great Depression, I'd forgotten the beauty that nature could hold. I glanced back at the path, leading to the city, before turning to continue my stroll in the woods. I crossed the tangle of trees, breaking branches and crushing dry leaves beneath my feet. I brushed my hand along every tree I passed, remembering the forest that was my childhood. 

I climbed a hill as the thicket began to get sparser, before trickling out into a field, on the other side of which was the city. I picked up the pace, speedwalking across the green before spotting a familiar face sitting on a bench across the street.

"Yelena!" I called, using her human name, for there were others around.

Soviet looked up from the book she was reading, her face lighting up as she saw me.

"Atsula!" She jumped up from her seat as she saw me, looking for a second like she might run across the road to me before deciding against it. I waited for the traffic to abate before hurrying across the asphalt, into her arms.

"I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?" She asked, for we had not seen each other since this time last year, at the countries' annual meeting in 1932.

"As well as I can be, in this economy," I said humorously, "how about you?"

"All well as well. Is that even a sentence?"

I felt myself grinning.

"Yes."

We walked down the street, passing people smoking outside of cafés and women in dresses styled in that '30's way. As we did, I noticed the sky darkening ever so slightly, but still enough to be noticeable. I stopped on a corner to get a newspaper from a stand, and as I was walking back to my friend, the sky erupted in a clap of thunder like a cannon. If it scared me, it was nothing compared to her. She jumped, making a shrill sound and gripping my hand.

"Are you okay?" I asked, pulling my hand out of hers, as she was cutting off my circulation.

"Yes, I'm sorry," she said as she bit her lip, "that just scared me. It sounded like artillery."

"Oh?" I turned to look at her. That sounded like a symptom of PTSD, one I struggled with quite a bit, but I hadn't known of a major war she'd fought in.

"Yes, the Great War...," she murmured, "I was a nurse."

She stopped talking abruptly, an action I knew meant the conversation needed to end. By now, we'd reached the main meeting building, and we walked in and found a parlor to sit in until the actual meeting began. I pulled out a cigar, lighting it and taking a smoke while she took a seat on the couch next to me. I opened the newspaper I'd bought earlier, skimming the front page.

"Wow," I heard myself say, taking my cigar out of my mouth, "hey, Soviet, look at this."

I scooted over so she could see the page, and we gaped at it together. You see, it was all about Germany, and their new leader, who was named Adolf Hitler.

She gasped in horror, and I heard her mutter in Russian, "he must have been murdered." 

Of course, she was talking about the Weimar Republic himself, who we immediately assumed had been killed by this "Third Reich."