On the blue morning of June 23, 1953, a healthy baby boy was born to Ivan and Bertha Bosnok. The mother was 48, remarkably old to have a child (her first, in fact). The birth made papers throughout Moscow, though the couple couldn't adjust to the heat of the spotlight very well.

"Ivan, dear," Bertha said to her husband after a bomb drill, "I'm having a hard time with all that's been going on."

"Me too, Bethy," he replied. "How can I help my sweetie?"

"Just..." She sighed. "Just keep me safe."

"I'll do what I can." They snuggled that night, unaware of what was happening in orbit above them.

"Look at the paper, honey!" Ivan said rather worriedly the next morning.

"What's wrong, d- oh my..."

The headline read:

GERALD BOSNOK CAUGHT IN MOON SIZED SPACE BASE

COMMITS SUICIDE IN UNITED STATES CUSTODY

The couple was silent for a moment. Ivan started reading aloud:

"According to our espionage agents and announcements from the United States, Gerald Bosnok, the former US ambassador to the USSR, built a secret "space station" the size of the moon in orbit around Earth. This was later connected with sights of a full moon in places far from its true location and time.

"Bosnok seems to have defected to our union after his time in the embassy here, marrying one of us and letting his children live here. After he was forced out of his assignment for multiple scandals, Bosnok pushed the field of space exploration 50 years past its current level of understanding, all in an undisclosed location far away from the government's watchful eye.

"He quickly constructed his base and started experimenting ways to cure his granddaughter Maria from an undisclosed disease. The United States quickly invaded the artificial moon and imprisoned Gerald and Maria. Gerald later committed suicide, while Maria's fate is unknown."

The two were in shock. Father was killed by his own government?

Ivan Jr was infuriated at his mother, complaining, "I hate school! All they talk about is communism this, socialism that... We all know it's propaganda anyway-"

"Ivan! Don't talk about your country that way!"

"But it's true!"

"I wouldn't care if Lenin came back from the dead just to agree with you, not because you're wrong... though you are..."

"Then why are we arguing at all?"

"Believe me, pay may be important to your superiors, but they care for you just as much."

Ivan sighed. "Fine," he grunted, "but I'm still mad at you."

"I don't care, now go!" And with that, Bertha shooed her child out the door and into the big, bad world

.

Ivan shoved his feet a few inches with every step, dragging them across the dirty floor all the way into class. They learned mathematics and grammar, along with some history, before they went to lunch.

Our unlikely hero had a PB&J with a side of bottled water, a luxury compared to his bully, who got something worse in his bag – a particularly crunchy piece of hard tack and some river water in a sippy cup.

If it weren't for the fact that this bully, Joseph "Stalin" Shershun was too dignified to let anyone see his sippy cup, he would be the prey as opposed to the predator. Unfortunately, he made it look like he enjoyed his hard tack as the girls fainted and the guys gawked. Today, he seemed even more immune to the cracking of his enamel, which made Ivan worry with fear.

Once "Big Tooth Stalin" got up and prepared to spit crumbs at everyone nearby, he took out a newspaper article crumbled up in his pocket. He grinned devilishly as he "innocently" asked his "playmate", "Hey, Ivan, ol' pal... Ever hear what happened to Grampa Gerald, that American SOB?" All of a sudden, even the bully's peers lost any feeling at all in their faces, a common symptom of having no clue what your best friend is doing.

"Yeah, you stalker, he got in a car crash on his way to a secret base – somewhere you'll only go in your dreams!"

Before anyone could applaud the comeback, Joe made a statement that would set the tone of life for our poor, poor protagonist: "No, silly, he was arrested by the government for building moons. What, his own grandson didn't know that!"

Ivan was skeptical at first; that is, until he realized someone this cool wouldn't jeopardize all that unless he really meant it...

He noticed the piece of paper plainly hidden behind his back and grabbed it so hard Stalin's hand didn't even budge. Reading the article, having a mental fit of epilepsy after every word, he grew more and more uneasy until those last few lines.

"Gerald later committed suicide..."

"Committed suicide..."

"Suicide..."

The room was a mess. Papers, dust, and the smell of feces filled the stagnant air. Even in these living conditions, Prof Ivan Bosnok was relentlessly experimenting on his multi-part experiment, codenamed "Robotsnok" by none other than himself as a joke. But it was no joke; it had cost him the fragile and often skeptical support he only had for a few years. Refusing to tell his colleagues, his relatives, and even his wife, it estranged any followers he had, not to mention got him in the courtroom exactly 6 times.

He was almost finished with the most difficult part, though. Wiping the sweat from his head and the snot from his nostrils, Ivan put the last creation in a large glass case and fell onto a pile of mats nearby. Unbeknownst to our professor, his machine was overheating after a fan got caught on a wire.

By midnight, there was a fire crew and about a two dozen news cameras at the Manhattan Apts building. Just as the fire started dying down, Ivan stormed out the door with a crazed look in his eyes and clothes that were partially still burning. He had a miraculously untouched piece of paper in his hands. Unfortunately for him, his creations lay silently waiting, alive as ever.