Home, love, family

by Gabros

… there was once a time the Romanovs had it all. This is just the story of Anastasia and her siblings before the revolution. Prequel to Light at the end of the tunnel.

11. Gleb and Stephen

This is more like three or four, hell, even five chapters about Gleb in one. I donʼt know what got into me. I have literally no self-control.
There probably wonʼt be more on Gleb for quite some time for this very reason. Not all or even most chapters will be this long I assure.
This chapter was greatly inspired by the Fan Fiction "Love like weeds" that is in my ao3 bookmarks (MaimuRose). I would not have known even where to start without that fic. I recommend it.

Ekaterinburg, spring of 1903.

Gleb Stephanovich Vaganov finds it way too hard to focus on whatever his history teacher is saying. The twelve-year-oldʼs attention is mainly directed at the portrait on top of the blackboard.

The boyʼs father, Stephen, is not just a Marxist. He is one of those people who place their entire identity on a single ideal or goal. Stephenʼs main goal is to make sure Gleb becomes a dedicated revolutionary, ready to spread his political ideas amongst the workers.

Gleb spent many hours sitting on his father's knee back when he was small and light enough to do that, but he didn't grow up listening to stories or fairytales. He grew up learning about dialectic materialism, alienation, value, exchange value, surplus value, and class struggle.

Stephen Gavrilovich Vaganov has had a hard life. His education started and ended in a parish elementary school, but most of what he knows he had to teach himself. Stephen was far younger than his son Gleb is now when he started working. The manʼs hands are filled with blisters after decades of hard labor and his back muscles ache from work hours that are as long as the wages are low.

Gleb is proud of his father's hard work, and he is proud of the fact he can at least say he also works on the weekends.

The child knows he is supposed to do something so-called greater with his life, which is what his parents want, but there is nothing as admirable in his eyes as toiling like his father or other people like him do. The people that really make the world go round without even knowing it because fate has cruelly separated them from everything they create, because they donʼt own the machines, the materials, the lands. The means of production. The working class people are alienated from everything they do and how they do it, from the fruits of their labor and even their fellow men, as capitalism replaces cooperation with competition. They are alienated from creativity, as being distanced from everything else makes them unable to reach their full potential. They struggle to simply survive.

Gleb likes to make poems about them and everything they are deprived of. He writes poems about many things, but he has to hide those he is most passionate about.

The boy knows there are people who have it worse. There are poorer families, starving families in both cities and the countryside. There are children dying young from preventable illnesses due to unhygienic conditions in the slums they are forced to live in. There are factory owners who pay less than even his poor father is paid. There are owners who break the few regulations put in place for greater profit and there is little the government does about it. And the Tsar. The Tsar is the head of the system that allows all of this to happen.

Gleb was taught about these facts the way most children are taught how to say their prayers. And so, Gleb canʼt focus, not when there is a tyrant on top of the blackboard.

Nicholas II stares at the entire classroom with his big, bulging blue eyes. Glen is able to see the portrait clearly even at the back, where he is seated. He is able to discern every feature in Nicholasʼs face better than many, but it is the Tsarʼs eyes that bother him the most.

Gleb has a problem with eyes in general.

There are about 25 students in the classroom, all of them boys. All dressed up in black pants, white shirts, and long black buttoned coats that reach their ankles. They are also supposed to be wearing a cap, but very few students wear it inside the building. Gleb does. Why wouldnʼt he? It is part of the school uniform.

Each of the children has a desk and chair to sit on. There are two huge windows in the right wall, and no curtains hide the fact it is the middle of the day. Two big maps hang on the left wall, one of these depicting the entire Russian Empire. The other one focuses on Ekaterinburg, their city. Located near the Urals, Ekaterinburg is a mountain range that runs from north to south between the Asian and European territories of Russia. All members of Glebʼs small family are from Ekaterinburg or the city's outskirts.

Glebʼs mother, Elena, has had an easy life when compared to that of her husband, but she has also worked hard for everything she is grateful to have now. She still does. Elena comes from the countryside, and when the crops of her village failed, her parents sent her and her younger brother to work in the city. Elena's brother came back, but she met Stephen.

Back when her parents were still alive, Elena would visit her childhood home with her son and husband quite frequently. Now they are mostly unable to do so, but Gleb remembers the village fondly. It was beautiful, colorful, easy.

Gleb misses his motherʼs village so, so much. He misses his babushka, Elena's mother. He loved watching the old woman cook her vegetable soups and work on her embroidery. Gleb remembers his grandfather a bit less but knows he liked to weave his own shoes using tree branches. He weaved baskets as well. They didn't last long but were quite easy to make. Elena's father would also make wooden spoons, selling them later at the marketplace.

Gleb remembers how green the village and its surroundings were during the summers. He remembers running through the beautiful wildflowers in the open fields, the towering trees. Playing with wooden horses and bathing in the river with the other children. Gleb had no idea what to talk to them about, but they werenʼt cruel, and they played with Gleb. For him, that meant the world.

The twelve-year-old is finally beginning to realize most people find him strange. Even peasants called him "peculiar" in secret, not that Gleb knows about that. This "peculiar" boy in question never quite managed to master the art of conversation or social interaction in general.

Gleb is interested in many things. He loves all kinds of music, especially cherishing Russian music, the music peasants played in their free time. He is fascinated by poetry and plays the piano.

So, Gleb has, in theory, an endless repertoire of interesting subjects to talk about, but for that, one first needs to find the "right" topic for each different circumstance, for each different person. One needs to understand there is a right time and place to talk about certain things. For Gleb, this is almost impossible. Particularly hard is talking to children his age, children not as well versed in Glebʼs interests.

The children of the countryside were kind despite having little in common with Gleb. The moments when he was supposed to smile or laugh were clearer. The rules he had to follow to interact with people were simpler.

The poor peasants, Gleb remembers, were happy, humble and hardworking despite everything they had been made to go through under the yoke of the landowners, the filthy rich peasants who did very little and still got everything the poorer farmers sweated and died for.

The Tsar loves those landowners, Gleb thinks. He lies down as the peasantsʼ children die in epidemics or from lack of medical care during childbirth. The Tsar loves the aristocracy before the common people, the bourgeoisie before the workers. The rich before the poor. He would rather die before offending any of the higher sectors of society because he relies on them to keep him in power.

Gleb loves reading about his country. Its history and traditions, its people and nature. Its beauty, which for Gleb includes the vast Siberia. Maybe it means Siberia first and foremost, but he knows the Tsar only cares for the region's resources and how to best exploit the workers to make good use of them. All so he can brag about his success, which is not his. At all.

The Tsar only cares about how good of a prison Siberia is. That is one of the things Glebʼs beautiful home is best known for, being on the road towards prison. Everyone knows how bad Siberiaʼs winters are. Few Westerners know how beautiful the Urals look from the distance, or how Siberia has cities with churches, factories, houses, hotels, schools, and shops just like everyone else.

The Tsar and his fear of his own people are the sole cause of Siberiaʼs bad reputation, and his fear is not unfounded. Gleb knows one day, the people will rise up. There will be a revolution, and his family will play a part in it.

Nicholas wears his fancy army uniform with evident pride. It is decorated with awards he probably did little to earn. Not that any of Glebʼs rich classmates would care. He doesnʼt even understand very well what they do care about. Whenever he tries to participate in the activities other boys seem to enjoy, such as playing football or wrestling, Gleb always ends up saying something insensitive without meaning to. And they definitely donʼt like hearing about class struggle like his fatherʼs grown-up friends do.

These kids are so attached to their privilege, the boy decides, that they naturally become upset upon being made aware of it, as discreetly as Gleb is forced to inform his peers of this truth by the circumstances.

Gleb prefers to exercise alone, practicing everything he has learned at gymnastics everyday. The other kids tease Gleb, claiming he sucks despite the fact he has the best marks. The boy is well aware some of his classmates tease him, but he has trouble understanding that the ones asserting he is bad at gymnastics are also poking fun at him, so listening to their mockery only inspires Gleb to practice harder.

Yes, sometimes Gleb prefers to be alone. He can read or simply think about the things that truly interest him without worrying about the person he is talking to not responding, something that, as time went on, Gleb figured out meant they were not invested in the conversation. He obsessed for weeks about the times the same thing must have happened without him noticing. He obsessed about what it had meant. What had those people thought of him?

Right now, the other boys in the classroom are talking too much, too loud. They annoy Gleb almost as much as the portrait does. He wants to bang his head against the table, but he has learned to deal with stress by using different means.

Gleb starts twirling the pen around with his fingers. He doesnʼt stop unless the teacher is dictating, which is when Gleb scratches his hair with his left hand instead or simply bites that same hand, the hand he is not using to write.

He canʼt hear what the old teacher is saying anymore. The other kids are chattering louder than ever. Is he dictating or just explaining? What if he misses something and doesnʼt write it down?

Gleb starts biting his hand.

"Look! He is doing it again!" One of the boys behind him giggles.

Maksim Ilinovich. Of course that is who he is, Gleb thinks. Maksimʼs father owns several metalworking factories, profiting off the labor of hundreds of innocent people without an ounce of regret.

Of course Maksim is also the one who picks on him the most, and whenever he is not doing so, he is bragging about his toys. His parents give him something new almost every week, all while some of Glebʼs neighbors have no toys to speak of.

Now Maksim and his friends are ruining their wood desks by using a coin to scratch some childish drawing on the surface. Gleb is willing to bet their stupid, so-called sketch will consist of male genitalia, because for some reason, they think that is really funny. Gleb doesnʼt.

Gleb knows the teachers will probably turn a blind eye to it. They might erase the drawing by scratching the surface further, but no one will be punished for making it because Maksimʼs father donates a considerable amount of money to the school every year.

Their scratching is making more noise than ever, but the professor is so old he is almost deaf. Gleb is beginning to grow anxious. For some reason, loud sounds bother him more than they bother most people, especially when they are irritating. The sound of that coin scratching the wood off the desk definitely counts as irritating.

He prefers to study alone as well, to review everything after class. That is what works. He has fairly decent grades in every subject. He just canʼt concentrate like this.

Gleb hates school and tells himself he hates all of his classmates as well. That way, he can acknowledge the fact he has no friends without feeling sad. None of the kids around him appreciate their education. They take it for granted instead. Not that Gleb particularly enjoys history, or likes the teacher who is lecturing them all right now.

Gleb likes chemistry and math better. Numbers and elements he can measure to know for sure he has the right answer.

This history teacher doesnʼt teach the truth anyway, Gleb thinks. He praises their oppressive, imperialistic, and capitalistic system. Papa and mama know the truth. They have better books, the right books, free copies they smuggle around their workplace.

Glebʼs parents have books explaining why everything is the way it is, why there are poor people in the world. Most of those books are illegal, but Stephen has successfully taught Gleb that only books containing the truth are banned.

Sitting behind Gleb are Maksim and four of his friends. Gleb knows they are whispering things amongst themselves. He is painfully aware, as the sound of whispers is one of the most irritating for the boy. The fact Maksim and his friends are brainstorming ways to torment Gleb is unbeknownst to him though. They love doing that because no other outcast at school is as fun to bully.

Gleb often reacts with confusion instead of anger, something the boys find amusing. In the few occasions Gleb does manage to deduce Maksim and his friends are, indeed, trying to push him around on purpose, Gleb becomes easily upset, and this sensitivity makes him the perfect target.

A piece of paper hits the back of Glebʼs head and falls on the floor almost immediately. Annoyed, Gleb turns around in search of the person who did it. Maksim and his friends are laughing.

Maybe it was an accident, Gleb thinks. It must have been some sort of game directed at one of the boys in front of him, because Gleb isnʼt friends with Maksim or any of the other lads in the back. Not that Gleb would want to be their friend now, he reminds himself.

But still, he remembers the way it felt to long for friendship. Gleb tried. He tried explaining things to his peers as much as he could without revealing too much about his parents. He did this so that they could be on the right side of history when the time came. They simply mocked him. It just took too long for Gleb to even realize they were mocking him.

"Whose is this?" Gleb asks the boys in the back as he picks up the piece of paper. The history teacher, Professor Ivanov, is already walking toward Glebʼs desk.

The old man's hearing is so bad that Gleb is the only student he can, or wants to, suspect of being distracted. Ivanovʼs eyesight, on the other hand, is not nearly as bad. He can clearly see that Gleb has his back turned on him.

"Can you explain to me what demands your attention, Mr. Vaganov?" Ivanov asks once he is standing right in front of the boyʼs desk.

"Right now? You, sir", Gleb turns his head around quickly to face the teacher. "You, my notebook, and the blackboard, because I am writing everything down".

As it appears none of the kids want the piece of paper back, Gleb decides to put it back on his desk. He then looks down at his notebook so that Mr. Ivanov realizes he is, in fact, paying attention. Desperately trying to.

The old history professor doesnʼt like Gleb to begin with, and now the cheeky future criminal is intentionally using his signature matter-of-fact tone to mock his elder. Sergei Sergeievich Ivanov isnʼt allowing that kind of disrespect to go unpunished, he decides. Not again. That boy will be taught a lesson, the man thinks as he lets out a chuckle. This is deeply confusing for Gleb who, in truth, didnʼt actually intend to mock anyone.

"Look at this one!" Sergei exclaims, gesticulating to get his studentsʼ attention. "Do you think you are funny?"

"No", Gleb shakes his head calmly. He doesnʼt look into the professorʼs eyes but continues staring at his notebook. Despite appearing composed, Gleb is very nervous, his mind coming up with a thousand million reasons as to why the professor hasnʼt put the issue to rest.

"Do you think he is funny?" The teacher asks his pupils now. They chant a "no" out loud. They almost sing it.

The teacher is still angry and all of the other boys have started laughing. Gleb could cry. He wants to scream. He doesnʼt understand what these people want from him.

"What was I explaining before you interrupted me?" Mr. Ivanov inquires again.

"The founding of Ekaterinburg", Gleb replies. Silence.

"And?" He continues. "Explain it to me".

"It was founded under the decree of Peter the Great, in 1723, to exploit the Ural regionʼs mineral riches, and, um…"

"You have the general idea. Now, what was I explaining the exact moment before you interrupted me?"

"I didnʼt listen, sir", Gleb decides to admit. "They were making a lot of noise, but I didn't interrupt you. The one who interrupted you was Maksim, I heard him talking, and another boy in the back threw this piece of paper at me".

Gleb shows his teacher the ball of paper in question.

"Look at me!" Ivanov scolds the boy. "Where are your manners? It is me you are supposed to be talking to, and yet you havenʼt once looked me in the eye".

Gleb hates it when this happens. Why? Why do people have to be like this? It is clear he was talking to the professor. Still, the boy is far too nervous to do as the teacher says, so his gaze stays fixed on his desk and school utensils.

This irritates Sergei Sergeievich, who continues admonishing his student:

"Or perhaps it was your desk who wanted to hear about the history of Ekaterinburg, is that so? I am sorry to interrupt your conversation then." With a serious expression, Professor Ivanov directs his gaze at Glebʼs work surface. "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Desk."

The students burst into giggles. Gleb, failing to detect his teacherʼs sarcastic tone, does not understand how Mr. Ivanov could think he was talking to the desk. The child feels deeply insulted.

"I am not crazy!" Gleb protests, making his classmates' giggles transform into loud bouts of laughter. "I was talking to you, but…"

"Then look at me and tell me what we were talking about", Ivanov insists.

Gleb needs more than a minute to recover. He frantically fidgets with his hands. The sound of laughter directed at him is draining and stressful.

"If you would like…" the boy becomes brave enough to speak again. "I could talk about some stuff I do know of."

Without ceasing the fidgeting, Gleb slowly raises his head to stare at the professor's green eyes. It is so distracting for him. Scary as well. Gleb has never felt so uncomfortable. He decides to look between the teacher's nose and forehead instead. The cruel old man might not notice.

Gleb begins talking about how Ekaterinburg started as a mining plant, about the way it was named after the wife of Peter the Great, Catherine I. He talks about copper, the reason Ekaterinburg exists in the first place.

"The Iset River divided the city", the boy explains effortlessly. "The plant dam with factories was at the center of the city. The main buildings of the early years were located along the dam."

He talks about how, because the local factories needed investment, copper coins were minted two years after the construction of Ekaterinburg.

Gleb likes talking about his city. He loves Russian history. He could drown in everything related to Russia, and now he is being allowed to talk about it all he wants. He was literally asked to.

The main product of all ironworks, state-owned or private, used to be bar iron, and once it began being exported, suddenly all of Europe wanted their iron, the iron produced in Ekaterinburg. Even the Eiffel Tower in Paris was built with Ekaterinburgʼs metal. Gleb hopes his classmates will find at least that fact interesting.

If only the people had directly benefitted from all that commerce, Gleb can't help but mention, and not just through selling their labor to the capitalists, but by actually owning the resources they worked and still work hard to transform into products.

Gleb talks and talks. His knowledge of history is comparable to that of the professor himself, and Sergei Sergeievich is not a fool. He is aware of this and reasonably worried. Gleb spits both facts and opinions. Dangerous opinions. Gleb is perfectly capable of misleading the rest of Sergeiʼs innocent and well-meaning students.

Suddenly, the professor notices that Gleb is, once again, struggling to maintain eye contact. The boy is so excited to be talking about one of his most cherished interests that he doesnʼt even realize his gray eyes have been wandering. Sergei is, on the other hand, absolutely outraged, and he is about to take what he considers a childish act of rebellion very personally.

"Look at me!" The history teacher yells, immediately silencing Gleb, and before the child has any time to look the professor back in the eye, the old man grabs his chin and forcefully makes him do so.

Now, this is physically painful for Gleb, which makes him feel awfully alone. His father doesnʼt understand. No one does. Only his mother tries. Gleb doesnʼt even understand why it is, apparently, painful for him only.

The boyʼs gray eyes fill with tears. He can hear his classmates telling each other jokes and laughing. Some of them sound sympathetic as they keep telling the others to shut up and leave him alone. All of the sounds have one thing in common. They are maddening for Gleb.

"I didnʼt ask you anything about minting or the Eiffel Tower, did I?" Professor Ivanov asks.

He looks so angry, Gleb thinks. He is also old and ugly. Gleb hates having to look at his face. He hates the feeling of his sweaty fingers pressed against his chin, and he hates being unable to move his head.

Why is the teacher so angry about Gleb knowing things? This time I didnʼt even mention the exploitation miners have historically suffered, the boy thinks.

Glen did, in fact, mention it, he later admits to himself. It doesnʼt really matter though, because he didnʼt actually talk about it that much. But still, Gleb knows he shouldnʼt have touched the subject. Last class, Professor Ivanov made it very clear that he doesnʼt truly care about history. The old fool only cares about "noteworthy" people, which means "people with money".

To be fair, Professor Ivanov didnʼt mind the way Gleb spoke about the Decembrists or the persecution Old Believers have endured throughout the Empireʼs history, but he did get mad both times when his pupil kept talking after he specifically told him to stop. Gleb didnʼt want to stop. He wasnʼt finished explaining the class how the Decembrists were still relevant in their day and age, and he hated the way the suffering of an entire group of people was being reduced to a footnote in order to make those tyrannical Tsars look better. Many ethnic minorities were still being persecuted and Gleb wanted to make a point by comparing them to the Old Believers so that some of his more bigoted classmates could come to sympathize with them.

Gleb canʼt lower his chin with that man grabbing it like that, but he wants to look down again at least. No. He needs to.

As soon as Glebʼs eyes move, the teacher grabs him by the collarbone and orders him to stand up. He absolutely hates me, Gleb thinks, knowing he hates his teacher back. At least the other professors treat him fairly. Glebʼs chemistry and music teachers are so nice he has trouble deciding which one is his favorite. Bigot Ivanov becomes mad at the slightest offense.

Not having any other choice, Gleb does stand up. Slowly. Reluctantly. Fearing, for he knows it is coming. One of those things that happen to him and only him. He is about to lose it.

The teacher is so angry he might not want to explain to Gleb what it is he was actually talking about before the trouble started, and then he is certainly going to get back at him by including very specific questions in his tests. Gleb is going to fail his final test. His father will be so angry… Stephen doesnʼt like this school to begin with.

The boy feels a lump in his throat. He knows the professor is scolding him, still asking questions and demanding answers, but it is too much, he is too close to his ear. Gleb might explode. He is about to embarrass himself shamefully and wonʼt be able to do anything to stop it.

The other kids keep talking around him, saying things about him. Gleb canʼt figure out what, but he suspects the truth. Most of them are discussing how strange he is.

"Why is he so upset?" One asks.

"He is so sensitive!" Another boy exclaims.

"Why is he crying?" That is what most of them are wondering. All of the children have been called out like this at least once by a teacher or two. It is embarrassing, but not a reason to cry at their age.

Gleb doesnʼt know how the heck he is supposed to get out of this situation. He doesnʼt even understand what the teacher is saying. He opens his mouth but the words donʼt come out.

It is happening, and once it does, he wonʼt be able to control anything.

Gleb clamps his hands over his ears in an attempt to shut everything out. He starts sobbing, rocking back and forth, struggling to breathe. At this point, he is unquestionably unable to control what he is doing. He canʼt, he is trying… and he is in the middle of the class.

The realization horrifies him. This has happened before, but not like this, not with everyone so focused on him.

It is another boy who gets the right answer, but Gleb doesnʼt listen. He canʼt breathe. He canʼt distinguish any of the different sounds he is hearing and yet he is experiencing all of them at the same time. The questions, the scolding, the mockery, the laughter….

"What a baby!" A boy exclaims. Gleb doesnʼt listen, which is probably for the best.

Too many emotions at the same time, a time that seems to go slower than usual. Hard to describe, but it is like torture, and at times, Gleb doesnʼt even know how it feels.

Glebʼs head hurts, but the shame is causing most of his tears. Why is it only he who reacts in such a shameful way to a professor being cruel? None of the other children do, and some of them have gone through worse, he is aware of that. Gleb has never been hit in the hands with a cane. He has never been hit by a teacher at all.

And yet, Gleb is sure he looks more childish and pathetic now than the students who were hit did.

Gleb doesnʼt think he will ever be the way his father wants him to. Why is it so easy for him to make friends? Why is it so easy for him to walk through life and face its obstacles? Why is it so easy for everyone?

Whenever the men who work at the same factory as Stephen visit his familyʼs small flat, they all seem to respect him. They all enjoy his company. Stephen has secretly gathered all of them to the side of the revolution with such ease. Gleb has never been able to do that, not even in controlled environments, with the children of his fatherʼs friends. Everyone prefers his father. Gleb is just strange, and he is slowly awakening to the knowledge.

The next time Gleb becomes aware of his surroundings, he is rocking back and forth in the corner of the classroom, facing the wall. That is one of his usual punishments. Standing in the corner to face the wall until the end of the class.

There is blood running down the side of Glebʼs head. He does not remember it too well, but he banged his head against the wall a few times before Sergei asked another student to keep him still. The last time Gleb had done that, he had been five years old. Gleb truly hopes his mother wonʼt find out. He wipes the blood away and is pleased to realize it comes from a very small wound.

The class is already over, and the other children can be heard yelling in the playground downstairs. Far enough for Gleb to feel at ease, but he doesnʼt feel at ease. He is just tired. He wants to keep crying and then fall asleep.

This is only Monday, Gleb thinks as he keeps rocking back and forward. Four more days to go. Almost two years studying here. He will be thirteen years old in September. Five more years and he will be free.

Professor Ivanov is still there. He grabs Gleb by the shoulder, causing the boy to jump and almost faint. The professor leads Gleb away from the wall and tells him to sit back down. There is chalk on the blackboard, but it is none of what had been written before during class. That has been erased, and a new sentence occupies its place: "I wonʼt ever contradict my teacher during history class."

Ivanov informs Gleb he will have to write that down in his notebook 200 times.

Gleb doesnʼt mind writing down the same line over and over again. He likes the repetition, but what Ivanov wants him to write down goes against everything his conscience demands. Glebʼs actions have always followed his beliefs, not the other way around. Answering open questions in Mr. Ivanovʼs tests is hard enough for Gleb, and so is having to sing "God save the Tsar" before class every day.

Professor Ivanov hasnʼt left yet. Standing closely next to Gleb, he soon starts lecturing him:

"The lines are just a formality. I know you wonʼt contradict me ever again, because this is the last time you will get to speak in my class, Mr. Vaganov."

Gleb stays silent, wipes his tears, picks up his pen, puts it inside the ink bottle, and begins to copy the sentence on the blackboard for the first time.

"I have provided you with many opportunities to correct your behavior", the teacher continues. "But you never fail to disappoint me with yet another one of your rants. You love turning our class into a ridiculous two-person debate club, donʼt you?"

He pauses as if to see whether Gleb will backtalk, but he wonʼt. Gleb has nothing to say to him. His words donʼt inspire an ounce of emotion in him. The boy is simply tired, and he is thinking only of copying the exact same sentence correctly for the sixth time.

"You are not as smart as you think you are or even capable of facing the consequences of your own actions", Ivanov declares, "just another stubborn child regurgitating whatever he is being told without any sort of doubt, some of which is factually incorrect as well. I hope you learn to reflect on everything you have been taught before it is too late."

Silence again. Gleb has already done fifteen lines and hopes his teacher will shut up soon so he can go even faster.

Sergei Sergeievich doesnʼt speak again for a minute.

"I have never witnessed such a meltdown over nothing in a boy your age", the old man suddenly spits. Venomously, in Glebʼs opinion.

That would have stung, but Gleb feels numb somehow. The child is more upset about having to write down that he wonʼt be able to state the truth in class ever again, and he is more focused on finishing quickly. He has work to do later.

"If it were up to me, you wouldnʼt be studying here, and your father would be under surveillance right now", the professor says, and for the first time, Gleb feels something.

Fear for his parents. Gleb imagines them being separated. He imagines them freezing or being overworked as prisoners in some faraway location, prisoners like those transported through their city on the way east, escorted by soldiers.

Gleb hates those soldiers, and most of his neighbors do as well. That is something he can talk about with other people without fear of them not caring. They hate the Tsarʼs soldiers and Cossacks. They hate the way they march or ride their horses around the city as if they owned Ekaterinburg more than the locals themselves.

Glebʼs parents could indeed be arrested someday. That is something Gleb grew up knowing. Stephen is in charge of smuggling an underground publication around the city and distributing it among the workers. He writes illegal political pamphlets and has developed a secret workplace organization as well. His wife Elena is deeply involved.

Gleb learned to keep their secrets as soon as he started talking. He canʼt say anything in their defense to the professor though. His mind is working way too slow. Gleb hopes Sergei thinks the reason he stays silent is that his accusations have no basis. Unfortunately for Gleb, that is not what Sergei thinks.

The old man suspects Glebʼs parents are up to something. He knows the boyʼs beliefs didnʼt just spring out of nowhere. He is twelve for Godʼs sake! Those unscrupulous people have effectively managed to indoctrinate their child to their perverse cause, and there is little Sergei can do about it that he hasnʼt tried already.

It is not like the child has ever mentioned the word "Marxism", "Marx", or any of his theories by name. Gleb hasnʼt even talked about them to the other students, although Sergei is not familiarized enough with any of those dangerous writings to know for sure. Glebʼs parents may very well subscribe to the beliefs of another one of those illegal parties. There are several. They might be anarchists for all Sergei knows.

Still, Gleb spits out enough garbage for Sergei Sergeievich to remember that the apple doesnʼt fall far from the tree. If the child is already denouncing their God-anointed ruler, what dangerous plots could his parents be hatching right now? What if this is the only opportunity Sergei has to save some poor ministerʼs life about to be extinguished by some terrorist attack?

But Sergei doesnʼt have any evidence, so it is not like he can report the childʼs parents to the police. All he can do is lament the fact that Gleb and a growing number of children like him are studying in prestigious institutions to begin with.

Sergei knows no one decides the family they are born into, so he pities Gleb a little bit. He just doesn't pity him enough for it to cloud his judgment. Allowing children from poorer strata to have a higher education is dangerous and ultimately useless. They are needed as future workers. It simply shouldnʼt be allowed. Back in Sergeiʼs days, it was greatly discouraged. There were quotas.

Maybe the solution is raising the price of the tuition.

Sergei doesnʼt say any of this, of course, but is not like he hasnʼt made his opinion known to Gleb before, when they were discussing education in the middle of the class. Sergei didnʼt plan to, but one thing led to another, and soon it was as if there were no one else in the classroom except for Sergei and his student, talking about the achievements and failures of higher education in Russia. Sergei doesnʼt even remember what the class was about before the debate started.

If Sergei were truly honest with himself, he would consider Gleb a gifted child, but he isnʼt, and because of that, Gleb pays the consequences.

"You are such a disgrace to this institution", Ivanov says, naively hoping his words will put down the fire in Glebʼs soul instead of making it spread.

The simplicity of the task at hand makes having to deal with Sergeiʼs presence a bit easier for the boy. It is nothing compared to the plight of the working class, Gleb thinks.

Gleb may be bad at detecting sarcasm and plenty of other emotions in people. He may not know how to say or do the right thing in each different social setting, but he is not dumb. He knows how the rich truly feel about people like him. His father has taught him well. He knows the bourgeoisie want to keep the working class down and uneducated so that they need them still, so they can keep stealing their labor and call the fruit of it their "property".

Sergei Sergeievich leaves the classroom. At last, Gleb thinks. The next 150 lines are going to be much easier, but still, now that everything the teacher talked about during class has been erased, Glebʼs entire day is ruined.

Gleb is going to have to genuinely speak to the other students in order to ask them for their notes. It is going to be so embarrassing, especially after… well, what they saw. Copying the notes will take some time, and then Gleb will have to do his homework. He wonʼt have time to read whatever he prefers reading in the library before going to his room as he usually does.

The teachers donʼt usually allow the students to take any books home. They make exceptions though. Gleb once saw another kid leave the school with a book from the library. There are just no exceptions for Gleb. He suspects it has something to do with his background, and he is right.

The teachers are afraid Gleb might steal a book.

Gleb hates studying in a gymnasium, but still, he has to stay. It is the only way to enroll at a university, and once Gleb is studying at a university, he will find lots of friends with his same interests. That is what his father always says. "Universities are brewing grounds for revolution."

Stephen can barely stand the fact his son is studying in a gymnasium. He fears his fellow classmates will corrupt him with bourgeois values, or worse, make him soft. But knowing Gleb has a chance to go to a university is what made him and Elena work twice as hard for his education.

Teachers in gymnasiums are just tools to make students subservient to the Tsar, Gleb believes. In university, teachers think and encourage students to do the same. At least, he hopes so.

Elena works two jobs and still has time for her son. Gleb knows she has already fainted twice. Last time, very recently. Stephen is working most of the time. Day and night. He comes home in pain.

None of them have taken a single break since Gleb began studying in his expensive school. They havenʼt gone back to the countryside. Mama and father are immensely hardworking people, Gleb thinks as he keeps writing, his eyes filling with tears as he remembers the time his father came home from work crying in pain. Some metal pipes had fallen on his foot. Stephen couldnʼt afford to take a break after the incident.

Fear for his motherʼs health is what makes Gleb start crying though. His parents canʼt even afford insurance, not anymore.

Stephen once told Gleb that he didnʼt mind breaking his back if that, ultimately, served as a lesson to show him what it takes to move forward under tyranny.

"Your sole and only purpose in life will be making sure no other working-class parents have to suffer as much as we have", Glebʼs father says to him almost every week.

But Gleb isnʼt sure he has what it takes to make his parentsʼ sacrifice worth it. When he was three, his mother almost died during a surgery needed to take his baby brother out, as he had died in her womb. Elena needed a long time to recover.

Some of Glebʼs earliest memories consist of saying goodbye to his poor little brother and mother, who never got pregnant again. Gleb wishes he could work just like everyone in his household does. He wishes his brother had survived. He wishes it were him studying in the gymnasium instead.

The childʼs tears keep flowing. Some of them fall on his notebook, making two of the lines unreadable. Sometimes, Gleb feels like an impostor, like he is robbing his parents. Like he is not really part of the working class.

Last year, Gleb tried telling his parents he would prefer to start working full-time. His father had gotten really angry, going as far as throwing and smashing things around. After calming down, Stephen had sat Gleb down and talked to him about how far he would go, about the important revolutionary figure he would become. Things Gleb now suspects will never come to be. He is just too strange. He is strange and longs for a single friend.

If Gleb were not an only child, maybe he wouldnʼt have this huge weight on his shoulders. Maybe he wouldnʼt feel this lonely or, most of all, guilty. Impotent about being unable to help and save everyone. All those children who have died young, some of his neighborsʼ children among them, all those prisoners going through his Ekaterinburg.

Sometimes, thinking of the hatred he has for the Tsar makes Gleb feel a bit better. The Tsar does not have to worry about loneliness, the boy thinks. The Tsar does not have to worry about his children dying young. He doesnʼt have to worry about back pains or fainting.

Tsar Nicholas will one day realize he isnʼt as loved as he thinks he is. Someday he will feel as lonely as Gleb does now and will regret neglecting and imprisoning his own people.

These thoughts make Gleb feel better.

Wanting to do so for the very first time, Gleb raises his head and actively stares at the Tsarʼs portrait with the sole purpose of hating the man depicted. Gleb could unironically write an entire poem about his unrestrained abhorrence for the one who is said to be Godʼs anointed ruler.

Oo

Sitting on a bench, Gleb watches as the other kids play football during their second break. He needs one of them to pass him the notes, but he is far too scared to ask. He has been going around in circles through the gardens and playgrounds of the school, wiping his tears every time they threaten to fall. They must all think he is such a baby.

Football is so noisy. That is why Gleb hates playing it. If the boys didn't scream every time they scored a goal, it wouldnʼt be half as bad. Gymnastics is such a better way to exercise. The rings, the pommel horse, or just jumping. It is all so fun. Whenever there is no public around, boxing is also nice.

Gleb stands up and keeps searching. Maybe he will ask the kids sitting on the ground near the big tree in the back of the main building...

No. Maksim and his friends are there. He is definitely not going to ask them.

"Stay away, you weird, ugly little troll!" Maksim yells not at Gleb but at another kid, a small child from a lower grade. "It is mine now, dwarf! If you had stopped bothering us then you would still have it!"

Maksim pushes the small kid to the ground. The petty insults were enough to make Gleb flinch, but that poor kid must have also landed badly and is now weeping inconsolably. Gleb feels so sorry for him.

There is something in Maksimʼs hand, a small toy soldier.

Suddenly, another boy from Glebʼs class rushes to the small kidʼs aid. His name is Peter. Two of Maksimʼs friends get in the way and jump on the newcomer, overwhelming him with kicks and punches.

"Leave my brother alone!" The smaller kid yells pitifully. Gleb immediately rushes towards them, swings his arms, and throws two strong and quick punches at each of Maksimʼs friends, hitting them in the face as hard as he is able to. They end up on the ground, holding their heads. One of them even starts crying. Gleb doesnʼt know how to feel about it.

Peter rushes to his little brotherʼs aid as Maksim stands still, staring at Gleb with wide eyes.

"I am going to tell one of the teachers!" Maksim points his index finger at Gleb accusingly.

"Go ahead stupid!" Peter exclaims. "I am going to tell them I saw you selling cigarettes in your room."

Maksim glares at Peter and then at Gleb, who lowers his gaze. The rich boy tries to look at his friends for support only to discover they have already run away, much to his embarrassment. Maksim turns around, intending to follow them. Gleb wonʼt let him.

"Hey! Hey!" He yells. "That isnʼt yours. Donʼt you have enough toys already?"

Maksim looks down at the little soldier in his hand.

"Well, I am not going to give it back!" He childishly declares, concealing his uncertainty. Despite being an outcast, Gleb has never actually been physically attacked by any of his bullies. He is the tallest boy in their grade and muscular for his age. Gleb used to box, Maksim remembers. He was good at it as well, although he stopped practicing this year. Glebʼs overall passive personality makes him safe enough to tease, which can be fun, but even conceited children such as Maksim have self-preserving instincts.

Gleb doesnʼt need to hit anyone else. He just glares at Maksimʼs ugly face, thinking of everything that entitled little idiot has said to him as he prolongs the uncomfortable death stare. Finally, Gleb takes two tentative steps forward. It works miracles.

In a second, Maksim drops the toy and runs away.

For once, Gleb feels good about himself. Now he knows how he feels about the kid who started crying, the one he punched. He deserved it. He was like an oppressor on a smaller scale. And even if he hadnʼt deserved it, Gleb thinks, that bully would have continued hitting Peter if I hadnʼt punched him.

Intimidating people feels good, Gleb realizes. It gets things done and feels like the exact opposite of being mocked in the middle of a classroom. Working hard to convey strength, as vain as it sounds, is important.

Gleb, Peter, and his little brother Leonid sit under the tree after the incident. Peter lets Gleb copy his notes as Leonid watches them both, his toy soldier back in hand.

"That was so awesome Gleb!" Leonid exclaims. "Did you see their faces? They were scared of you!"

Gleb smiles shyly. It is not often that other kids give him compliments.

"Why did you stop boxing, Gleb?" Peter asks. "I remember you did last year. You were better than any of us, and you will probably grow bigger. You could win any tournament if you wanted to."

"You could go be in the 1904 Olympic games next year", Leonid says.

"That would be silly, he will be only fourteen", Peter corrects him and, after letting out a chuckle, continues: "The 1908 Olympics though…"

"I donʼt like loud noises", Gleb explains. "People are always yelling at competitions."

"I can tell", Peter nods. "Is that why you never talk to anyone? You are always so serious and withdrawn".

"I prefer to read in the library. My parents canʼt afford to buy as many books, and you rich people are never interested in the things I have to say".

The three children stay silent for a long time.

Gleb keeps copying, but the lengthy lack of chattering makes him grow worried. Did he offend Peter? He was just stating the truth. What did he say now? Will Peter speak to him again after he is done copying? Will Leonid?

"Well, Gleb..." Peter finally breaks the silence. "Some of my friends and I actually think a lot of what you have to say is really interesting, but…"

"But?" Gleb asks. He really wants Peter to continue.

"How do I put this? It is just… sometimes, you can be kind of…"

"Strange", Leonid blurts out.

"Overenthusiastic!" Peter covers Leonidʼs mouth.

"But I am enthusiastic about the things I talk about," Gleb protests. "Arenʼt most people enthusiastic about their interests? I donʼt understand a thing."

"Well yea", Peter chuckles, "but there is being interested, there is being really interested, and then there is you. I bet you would deliver speeches against the government even at funerals. You seldom talk about anything else".

Peter and Leonid start laughing, and now Gleb is more confused than ever.

"I wouldnʼt speak up against the government at funerals… well, it depends on whose funeral", Gleb explains. "If the person who died worked for the state and had a role implementing its repressive measures, then I guess that as a form of protest, it could be viable."

Before Gleb can begin to decipher what the "then there is you" part could mean in order to address it, Peter reveals something that makes him blush: "It was a joke."

"Um, all right", Gleb mumbles, red as an apple.

An awkward silence descends upon the children.

"I knew it", Gleb adds after a while. It is not true, but Gleb doesnʼt want Peter to think he is some sort of idiot.

The silence remains. It takes a lot of effort for Gleb to be the one to proceed with the conversation this time:

"You are the serious ones now."

Silence. And Gleb is too scared to look up to see their reactions.

"Our father works for the government", Peter finally speaks.

Gleb is relieved to hear him talk and, wholly overlooking Peterʼs severe tone, decides to say something humorous as well:

"I didnʼt say I was going to kill him. I was just going to make an antigovernment speech at his funeral."

Peter raises his eyebrows. Leonid frowns. Gleb begins to suspect he might have said something insensitive again. He decides to finish copying quickly before Peter decides he no longer wants him to use his notes.

"That was also a joke", Gleb smiles. His friends must have thought he had meant it. "It was a joke because I donʼt know your father. He is probably decent enough and just doing his job. I wouldnʼt make a speech at his funeral if he died, but it is funny that I said I would, because it is a joke like you said. Jokes are like that, arenʼt they?"

Nothing. They stop talking altogether. Gleb understands them a little bit. He loves his father as well, and the mere thought of him dying is painful to contemplate.

Gleb loves jokes but is clearly not very good at them. His heart feels heavy. He thought he had finally made some friends.

Oo

Every day after his final lesson, Gleb returns to his room as late as he is allowed to in order to avoid having to talk to his roommates: Valentin and Timofei. It is not that they are mean, but Gleb finds all sorts of interactions with them overwhelming, so much so that he even has to rehearse his "good nights". The boy also prefers to spend his free time reading in the library.

Tonight though, Gleb decides to go back to his room earlier. There were just too many things on his mind, so finishing his homework took him a lot longer. He also had to re-read the notes he had copied, for he had certainly not focused during history class. By the time Gleb was done with everything, there was no point in staying at the library to read. There would simply not be enough time to fully enjoy it without rush. Glebʼs day is ruined. He truly hopes the rest of the week will not be as bad.

Just as Gleb is about to open his bedroom door, he overhears his roommates gossiping inside.

"Did you see Glebʼs uniform today?" Timofei asks. "Another one of his buttons fell."

Gleb becomes instantly distressed. They are talking about him. Timofei is not even in Glebʼs class, but for some reason that is not stopping him from nit-picking on his tiniest imperfections. Have they talked about him before? Gleb deduces they have, because why wouldnʼt they? He is barely ever in the room.

Gleb presses his ear against the door, knowing very well it is going to hurt. He wants to listen though. He needs to know what these people really think about him so he can understand better how to behave around them without being judged. He needs to know what makes him so damn noticeable.

"It doesnʼt surprise me", Valentin replies. "His black pants and coat are full of holes as well".

Glebʼs uniform is old. He knows it was a gift to his mother from that of another boy who had attended the same school years before, but Elena is good at patching things up. There are no "holes" in his uniform, Gleb thinks.

"Yea, and they are patched up with different colors", Timofei lets out a chuckle, "it looks quite ridiculous, all of his clothes are so old."

The two boys laugh.

"If that kitchen wench canʼt afford a new uniform, she clearly shouldnʼt be sending her crazy son to this school", Valentin remarks. The laughter resumes.

Glebʼs eyes fill with tears. He knew they would mock him. He has been called poor by Maksim and his friends since the first grade. He can take that. Glen was already aware of rich peopleʼs concern for those sorts of shallow things, but he had never heard anyone talk like that about his mother. Insulted and upset, Gleb lies down on the ground slowly, his head still close to the door.

"What were you telling me about before?" Timofei asks once he and Valentin are done laughing.

"Oh, yes", Valentin struggles not to keep on chuckling. "He cried today in class when the teacher scolded him."

"Really?"

"Yes! But not like... just crying. He was sobbing, covering his ears and throwing a tantrum as if he were a little boy. I had never seen anything like that. The teacher wasnʼt even hitting him or anything, he was just asking him to prove he was paying attention."

Gleb regrets not entering the room when he had the chance. He remembers the way Maksim pushed little Leonid down to steal his toy. There clearly must be something about living a life of comfort that robs people of their compassion.

Oo

Wednesday is Glebʼs second favorite day of the week. He has piano and chemistry lessons. His two favorites, both on the same day.

Friday is Glebʼs favorite day. He gets to go home. He gets to see his mother again. Anticipating his freedom and happiness every week, Gleb prepares his belongings in the morning to be ready to go as soon as the last lesson ends. Once he has his cap and backpack, the boy is ready to walk home.

Gleb doesnʼt live near the school, and he could definitely go back home in a trolley car or carriage, but walking saves the Vaganovs some money, and besides, Gleb likes walking. He loves watching people pass by. Common working-class people. Street vendors, ironworkers, servants, street sweepers and nuns. He loves imagining that someday, things will get better for all of them.

"Hey, Gleb!"

The boy turns his head around and is surprised to see Peter running towards him along with his little brother. Despite living pretty much at opposite sides of the city, Peter offers to accompany Gleb home and pay for his ride.

Gleb is ecstatic. He usually hates any minor change to his routine, but he thought Peter would never want to talk to him again, and yet here he is.

"I am sorry I havenʼt talked to you this week", Peter says. "Your joke was a bit weird, but it wasn't that bad."

Gleb sits between Peter and Leonid as the three boys travel on a carriage. Not very practical considering I am getting home first, Gleb cannot help but think.

"His friends also think you are weird", Leonid adds. "Peter doesnʼt want them to know he hangs out with you".

Gleb looks down and sighs in resignation.

"It is not that…" Peter begins to lie. Yes, lie. Gleb interrupts him:

"I know it is!" He exclaims. "My two roommates talk about me behind my back all the time, and I am tired of people doing that!"

"I am sorry Gleb", Peter laments.

"Donʼt be sorry, you seem nice... I am just tired of being told I am weird. I donʼt want to be told that unless I can understand why. I want to correct my weirdness, but I canʼt do so unless I am finally explained what exactly is so weird about me."

"Are you serious? I donʼt want to hurt your feelings."

Gleb doesnʼt know whether he really meant what he said or was just angry when he said it, but suddenly, he is overcome with a very real desire of "correcting" himself. His important message needs to be taken seriously... and he could use some friends as well.

Gleb is now certain there is something different about him. He can't even speak to his own neighbors with confidence, especially not those around his age. He nods. Gleb wants to correct himself. He really does.

"Well, first of all, you blink too much", Peter begins.

"What?" Gleb is startled. Ironically enough, he blinks five times.

"You blink too much", Peter repeats, "and you often scratch your head frantically or move back and forward for no reason".

"Wait! Let me get my notebook!"

Gleb writes every detail down, but every time Peter mentions yet another one of his strange repetitive actions or unique mannerisms, Gleb becomes horrified at the prospect of having to "correct" them. He never noticed before, but habits such as biting and fidgeting with his hands and scratching his head helps Gleb deal with stress. But still, he has to correct himself, he has to.

At the very least, Gleb is pleasantly surprised to hear not everything Peter has to say about him is unfavorable:

"You are very eloquent Gleb. You make many of the teachers look like fools in comparison, especially Ivanov. Even when you talk about boring stuff, you manage to keep everyoneʼs attention somehow, maybe it is your tone of voice".

"Well, that is really nice, thank you", Gleb says, flattered.

"And none of the kids think you are stupid, even if you are kind of crazy".

"That is… comforting to know, I guess".

"Many want to hear you speak again, but Maksim and his friends have spread the rumor that you bring bad luck, and that if anyone gets too close to you, they will become weird and poor as well."

"They should go back to elementary school!" Leonid jokes, and the three boys laugh.

Oo

Stephen wasnʼt home when Gleb arrived, he was still working. Only Elena was back from the restaurant where she cooks and cleans. She received her son as usual.

"My boy!" She exclaims every Friday as she hugs and showers Gleb with kisses. Elena is definitely the reason Friday is Glebʼs favorite day.

Whenever Gleb is upset, Elena puts her hands on top of his head, stroking his hair and making things better. For the boy, it feels like magic. Sometimes, Gleb wishes he were homeschooled so he could stay with his mother all day long.

Elena is a thin, short woman with light brown hair and green eyes. Pretty by most standards.

Stephen is tall and muscular. His eyes are a light shade of gray and his hair is black. Gleb used to feel intimidated by his fatherʼs eyes. He still is at times, but this has nothing to do with Glebʼs natural aversion for eye contact. Stephenʼs eyes can come across as cold to anyone. Despite being friendly around strangers, he is also a very strict person once an individual gets to know him. Personality can, at times, manifest in oneʼs eyes.

Gleb inherited his fatherʼs eyes. The boy reckons that maybe, one day, he will find a good use for those intimidating eyes.

Gleb's hair is black like his fatherʼs, and he will grow to have his fatherʼs body build as well. Despite all of this, he resembles his mother the most. Elena loved to take Gleb to her workplace back when he was little, as the other women would fuss over her childʼs beauty. She knows her son inherited most of his pleasant features from her.

The Vaganovs live in a small, simple flat with only the most basic furniture. The living room consists of a sofa and a small wooden table on top of which two photo frames stand. One of them holds a black and white picture of Stephen, Elena, and Gleb back when the latter was just a baby. A modest existence, but Gleb knows they lack nothing. He has never been hungry... well, not truly hungry, and that is more than can be said for millions of underprivileged people in Russia.

They donʼt live alone in the flat. Another family with two small children, a boy and a girl, live with them. Mr. and Mrs. Bobkov know about the Vaganovsʼ illegal activities. Their picture occupies the other frame, and they usually have lunch and dinner with the Vaganovs in the small dining room. It is Elena who cooks.

"You wonʼt believe what happened this week mama", Gleb says.

"Oh dear! I have never seen you come home so happy!" Elena beams. "Tell us about it!"

Mr. and Mrs. Bobkov are seated at the table with Gleb and Elena. Their toddlers are usually fed before the adults are, so the two children are now playing on the ground with Glebʼs remaining toys. A train, a telephone, and gun. Gleb has given the the rest his toys away to younger children from the neighborhood. Poorer children. This is fine for Gleb, as he has no time for playing anymore, and he really enjoyed donating his small number of toys. The children had smiled and squealed with joy, making the twelve-year-old incredibly happy.

Gleb tells his mother about his new friends, the list of weird habits he should work on, and how some kids are interested in what he has to say.

"Just be careful with the way you talk to them honey, remember what papa and I do is very dangerous", Elena reminds her son as soon as he is done talking. "Explain our beliefs to them, plant the seeds, but donʼt be too specific, I donʼt want you to get expelled."

"Donʼt worry mommy, I am never too specific", Gleb assures her.

"And you shouldnʼt have to change anything about yourself for people to like you", Elena tousles her sonʼs hair. "You are perfectly adorable the way you are, but you have no idea of how pleased I am that you managed to find some friends."

Gleb doesnʼt say anything, but he knows his mother is wrong. She only says he is perfect because she loves him. Otherwise, why is she the only one who thinks so? If Gleb talked to Elena about the things he has recently discovered about himself in detail, she would probably just dismiss them.

"Why didnʼt you invite your friends to come over?" Elena asks.

"I did invite them over, but they said their parents wouldnʼt allow that. I got down from the carriage before we got all the way here anyways."

"Hmm..."

Elena knows why, and she knows her son is not naïve enough to be oblivious to it, but Gleb is so excited about his new friends that she doesnʼt want to touch on her apprehensions. She had to urge herself not to cry or even fall apart from joy when Gleb mentioned having friends.

"Those rich kids are probably just afraid of our stench!" Mrs. Bobkov exclaims abruptly.

"What did you read about this week?" Elena doesn't acknowledge Mrs. Bobkov.

"Peasant traditions from different parts of the country, I love that, I wish I could live in the countryside someday", Gleb tells his mother. "I also read some of Chekhovʼs stories".

The boy talks to his mother and neighbors about Chekhov as they eat. Extensively. He talks about Tolstoy as well. He talks about other authors. The Bobkovs are soon bored, but Elena doesnʼt miss a word. She is proud of her boy.

Just as Gleb is finishing reciting a poem he copied in his notebook, Stephen announces his arrival:

"Nice, Gleb", he says. "Once I am done eating I want us to review that pamphlet again." After that, Stephen blinks at Gleb, who is already running to greet his father.

Gleb is infinitely happy his father is home. Elena just hopes her husband didnʼt notice her sigh. She loves Stephen, she really does. She loves his passion. Most men let hardships destroy their souls, Stephen didnʼt. Most men sleepwalk without a purpose, Stephen has one. He found one when he was young through people similar to what both of them are now. That is why she fell in love with him, he doesnʼt just live for himself and his loved ones. He lives for Russia and its future. He lives for the people.

But Elena hates the way Stephen neglects their son. Nice, Gleb. Is that all Stephen has to say? Her son recited that poem beautifully.

Stephen doesn't encourage any of his sonʼs interests... well, none of his other interests. Elenaʼs husband doesnʼt praise Gleb when he gets perfect marks, he only fumes at him every time they are lower than usual.

Stephen never hugs or kisses his son. Did he at least do it back when Gleb was a baby? Elena doesnʼt remember. He might have, but it is entirely possible he never did. It definitely wasnʼt a common occurrence.

Of course Gleb loves to talk to his father about Leninʼs pamphlet, Elena thinks with concern, it is the only god-damn way Gleb can get any attention from his father to begin with. Elena doesnʼt remember the last time she heard her husband talk to Gleb about anything that wasnʼt in some way related to the cause. She has worried about this for months.

At first, Elena believed her feelings to be irrational. Stephen is a busy man after all. His livelihood, added to his illegal activities, leave little room for anything else on his mind. Elena knows there is nothing more important than the revolution, and besides, she doesn't even know what her husband and son talk about while they are working together. Maybe they do discuss other subjects.

Then, something woke her up to the sad reality. Two weeks ago, Gleb came home almost as excited as he is now. He had finally managed to play, without error, an incredibly complicated piano piece, something he had been struggling to do for weeks with no success. The music teacher had congratulated the boy, saying he had never witnessed a student go from beginner to advanced as fast.

Gleb was so happy with his achievement that he raved about it for hours until Stephen, quite literally, told Gleb to shut up.

"You have been talking about it nonstop and I am tired, I come home tired", he had said.

Elenaʼs feelings are not irrational. She and her husband need to have a talk.

Oo

Stephen loves Elena, he really does, but he will never allow her to nag him about the way he raises his son. His son. She has no idea, she doesnʼt value the cause as much as he does. He thought she did, but he should have known. Elena never suffered as much as he did. She was also poor, that is for sure, but her parents loved her and gave her and her siblings a happy childhood.

Stephenʼs father was a drunk who left him and his mother when he was only eight. It was overall good that he left them though. Stephen never missed him or his beatings. He was a child and a parent to his very ill mother and younger siblings, none of whom lived longer than twenty despite Stephenʼs sacrifice and devotion to them. He would trade his life in a heartbeat for that of any of his three younger sisters. He would trade his sonʼs life as well, he knows, not that this secret doesn't fill him with self-loathing.

Elena has worked like a beast since childhood, just like Stephen, but she never had to defend her mother from some of her most violent clients.

Stephen never liked children, not really. Raising them was forced upon him from a very young age, and as much as it was to be expected, he wasnʼt exactly thrilled to learn of Elena's pregnancy. He is not proud of it either, but Stephen is glad he and Elena never managed to conceive another child after the one they lost. He is barely capable of bonding with the one he already has. Neither one of Stephenʼs parents ever fussed over him to begin with, so Elenaʼs suggestion of hugging his son more often is ridiculous. Gleb has never complained about any lack of affection whatsoever. He has his mother for that.

Gleb is also a strange kid, Stephen thinks. It is the elephant in the room, something Elena doesnʼt allow to be mentioned in their home, but he is. He was a very difficult and dramatic child growing up, throwing tantrums over anything. From itchy clothing to snoring neighbors. The boyʼs picky eating was the cherry on top.

Gleb was unpredictable and, unlike Elena, Stephen was never tolerant of that. He knew how to deal with him, as much as his wife shamelessly attributed Glebʼs improving behavior to herself and her endless petting.

Thanks to a simple smack in the mouth or two, Gleb became tolerable enough. He doesnʼt have those huge tantrums anymore. Stephen is still unhappy with his sonʼs lack of social charm, but that will probably improve with age. He already made those two friends or so it seems.

The truth is, there is nothing Stephen particularly loves about his son except for the fact he sees himself in him. Elena is a fool for not knowing, Stephen thinks with great pride, but there is nothing that brings Gleb more joy than reading and talking about the future of their beautiful country once the revolution triumphs. There is nothing Gleb is more interested in than how to best help the cause. There is nothing he has more knowledge of or thinks more about.

Stephen didn't force his son to be this way. As a child, Gleb would lean in to take a look at what Stephen was reading. Stephen would then sit him on his knee and explain.

While some of Stephenʼs friends struggle to get their adult children involved in revolutionary activities, Gleb has helped him with some of his most successful writings.

Stephen knows he wonʼt live forever, but Gleb is still young and might actually live to witness the event Stephen hopes for the most. His reason for living. Raising Gleb is like planting seeds.

Stephen doesnʼt mind Gleb having other pastimes. As any father worth a damn would, he cares about his education. He wants his son to make a decent living when the time comes. He doesnʼt want him to suffer as he has, but he never, ever, wants Gleb to lose sight of what truly is important.

Placing their own happiness on a pedestal is what people who donʼt care enough do. Stephen wants to raise a revolutionary, not something else.

Elenaʼs conversation with her husband had the opposite effect of what she had intended. Stephen spent the weekend as usual, bringing Gleb to work with him, for laboring is Stephenʼs way of bonding with his son. Bringing him to meetings with likeminded people to talk about politics and philosophy is Stephenʼs way of bonding with his son.

Stephen might not be good at paternal love, but when he talks to Gleb in excruciating detail about his torturous past and the importance of actively working against the system that made it so, he could very well be feeling something similar to love. Maybe the exact same thing.

Changing his ways would be depriving his son of love, which is not what revolution is for, but if he is somehow able to provide some resemblance of love to his son, he will do so the only way he can.

Oo

The pamphlet in question is called: "What is to be done?"

It was written by none other than Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, better known by the alias he uses for illegal publications, Lenin.

Lenin's father, Ilya Nikolayevich Ulyanov, came from a family of serfs but had risen to a middle-class status. After marrying, Ilya would go on to become Director of Public Schools for the province of Simbirsk, overseeing the foundation of over 450 schools as part of the government's policy for modernization. His dedication earned him the Order of St. Vladimir, which bestowed on him the status of a hereditary nobleman.

His son Lenin was certainly no commoner. Vladimir was born in Simbirsk on 1870 as the third of eight children, two of which died in infancy. Ilya was a devout member of the Russian Orthodox Church and baptized his children into it, although his wife Maria was mostly indifferent to religion, something that influenced her children, primarily Lenin, to a certain extent.

Among his siblings, Lenin was closest to his sister Olga, whom he loved and would never stop bossing around.

Lenin was a nice child, if maybe a bit too lively. He liked to break his toys instead of playing with them, and due to an extremely competitive nature that could at times be destructive, Lenin excelled at his disciplinarian and conservative school. He could be called a genius.

When Lenin was fifteen, his father died of a brain hemorrhage. Subsequently, the boy's behavior became erratic, rude, and confrontational. He renounced his belief in God.

Just a year later, Lenin's older brother Alexander, a student at St. Petersburg University, joined a revolutionary cell bent on assassinating Tsar Alexander III and was selected to construct a bomb. The plan failed miserably, and the young Alexander was arrested and executed by hanging. This certainly left a deep impression on Lenin, who went on to study law at Kazan University. He would both excel and become radicalized in this institution.

In 1893, Lenin moved to St. Petersburg, where he joined a Marxist cell that would earn him some time in a Siberian prison. He was never seen as a huge threat to the government though. He still isn't.

Lenin has moved abroad with his wife. It is safer. He frequently writes and meets with other Russian Marxists.

"What is to be done?" Argues that the working class will not become political by quarreling with the employers over wages or working hours. To make the working class Marxist, Lenin claims, a political party should be formed, a vanguard made up of the most class-conscious and politically advanced sections of the proletariat. That party, in turn, should attract larger sections of the working class towards revolutionary politics.

Not everyone around Leninʼs circle is on board with his ideas. His party is on the verge of fraction.

Oo

Elena attends church every Sunday morning. Gleb goes too. He is by his motherʼs side now, listening to the priest give his sermon. Elena is praying for her husband, for his soul.

Stephen is not with them. Gleb knows his father does not believe in God and that there is little place for the church in the future, as it will lose all of its current power. Gleb doesnʼt care about that, because his mother is by no means a normal Christian. One time, Elena told her son that Jesus had probably been a socialist Himself. He did say it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God, which is Glebʼs favorite part of the Bible.

The early Christians would, moreover, live communally. Elena has written several articles about them, and Gleb honestly thinks they sound nicer than the ones living today. Most present-day so-called Christians are blind followers of the Tsar, all because he has supposedly been anointed by God, and according to whom? The Tsar himself? The church hierarchy? The oppressive establishment?

There is nothing about Jesus that Gleb dislikes though. Jesus is a fantasy. He talked about love and healed the sick like Gleb wishes he could. He wouldnʼt reveal this to anyone except for his mother, but Jesus sounds like someone who would hug everyone and anyone.

Gleb wishes he could meet Jesus. He just doesnʼt know how to feel about God as a concept. God sounds like a typical fat capitalist oppressor. All-powerful, unlimited resources, and yet He doesnʼt lift a finger to help the poor, or the sick, or any other people, or… His son, for that matter. The concept of hell is also cruel. The boy knows some people need to die, but torture seems a bit excessive.

Gleb canʼt actually pray, not when he has grown to feel as conflicted about God. The last time he did, his mother had been about to die. But still, Gleb canʼt help but enjoy church. He likes the repetition. He bizarrely delights in the rules. Repeating certain phrases, fasting when he is told to. He appreciates how almost every church service is exactly the same except for those taking place during special feasts. Gleb loves the overall silence and peacefulness of the church.

There are lots of things to experience, such as the incense, the beautiful icons, and the chants. Gleb loves the way he can predict everything he will see, hear, touch, and smell. Nothing becomes too overwhelming that way. The manner in which the priest prays for the imperial family, as if they even needed to be prayed for, annoys the boy a little bit, but he can also predict that.

Gleb knows little about the imperial family. His father says it is not good to look at them when their pictures are on newspapers or postcards. He says those are put there for propaganda purposes, to make the Romanovs present in people's lives and thus more lovable. Gleb endorses his father's words thoroughly and never even peeks.

The only thing Gleb knows about the Tsarʼs family is that he has four little daughters, the oldest of which is five years younger than him. He also knows they have everything they could ever need and give back nothing. He knows they need no praying for.

Gleb would like God better if the concept of Him being the same as love were true. Gleb would at least have Him, but the boy doesnʼt know if he even believes or whether he just loves the idea of some great supernatural father loving him. Gleb has never felt lonelier.

On Friday, Gleb told Stephen about his new friends. Stephenʼs reaction was not what the boy had expected it would be:

"As much as I am glad about it, I donʼt want you to cling too hard to those two bourgeois classmates of yours just because they are safe as a start, boy. We need to have a talk, later, maybe tomorrow".

On Saturday, Stephan told Gleb that he was already old enough to learn that the word "revolution" is not just about the problems of the present. It is not just about the utopian future that awaits the world once its solutions are implemented.

"There is a bloody mess in between", Stephen warned his son as they walked back home from work. "People you know may get caught up in that mess if they actively fight against our objectives. You know about class warfare, donʼt you?"

Stephen made sure Gleb nodded before he continued speaking:

"You know of strikes caused by clashes of interests between the workers and their employers over wages and work hours, well…"

"They lead nowhere in the long run with the present system, because those interests are by nature, opposites", Gleb couldnʼt help but interrupt his father excitedly. "The more we work for less, the more they profit."

"Well", Stephen repeated, slightly annoyed by the interruption. "I am talking about revolutionary warfare plain and simple, literal warfare Gleb, because it is a possibility. You must be ready, and most importantly, willing, to see that war as necessary, and not all wars are fought in the battlefield."

As Stephen spoke, Gleb strived to look him in the eye the entire time. The child knew other people felt strongly about eye contact for some reason and that his father was like everyone else in this regard, but at least he trusted his father enough not to feel as uncomfortable with the task.

The phrase 'not all wars are fought in the battlefield' confused Gleb at first. It made no sense to him. If a war is being fought in a street or market, then it has already become a battlefield, hasnʼt it?

What had Stephen meant? Gleb was too afraid of asking and being called stupid. He knew his father could have been suggesting something else, using a metaphor of some sort…

Unless the saying was alluding to the killing of unarmed people. Gleb had already heard of it before from his fatherʼs friends. Some people need to die, he already knew. But still… never before from his father. Never before as a warning. As something that had anything to do with him.

Glebʼs emotions were becoming increasingly conflicted, it was one of those moments in which he didnʼt know what to feel. What did he feel indeed? Frightened? Excited? Motivated?

Despite his confusion, Gleb nodded. Did he feel scared of his father?

Stephen continued:

"For you to be ready, it is necessary that you stop acting like a child and start toughening up. You need to lose this fear of yours of talking to people, and I donʼt mean the speeches you are perfectly capable of giving when it is just me and other friends from work, I mean regular day to day interaction and…"

Gleb opened his mouth to ask how, but knowing precisely what his son was about to say, Stephen answered his question before he could even utter a word:

"I have no idea how, that is your problem, but you canʼt put any individual you meet on a pedestal. Those two children might remain your friends or become your enemies, and if they do, I donʼt want you crying in a corner. I want you thinking about the good of the many, the interests of the many. I want you walking up to the next group of people that might serve our party".

The party in question is the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party, Leninʼs increasingly divided party. It was founded in Minsk but mostly operates outside of Russia. Stephen is a member of a cell in Ekaterinburg.

"But papa, I am different…" Gleb lamented, his eyes filling with tears. "The kids at school donʼt like me".

"I have already explained to you why", Stephen rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Most of them think of you as their inferior, you just have to keep looking. You may be surprised to find one or two more that arenʼt as bad, now… donʼt tell me you are crying!"

The man wiped away some of his sonʼs tears gently.

"Stop that boy, you are almost a man!" He exclaimed, sounding a bit harsher than he intended to. Stephen had no idea how to deal with the situation.

Gleb kept on crying, wiping his own tears uselessly every few seconds. He was scared of what his father would think of him. After taking a few deep breaths, he finally decided to confess something that had troubled him for a while now:

"But there is another boy like me, one of Maksimʼs friends, he is from a poor neighborhood as well, I am just different from everyone."

A sob escaped Glebʼs throat before he kept weeping bitterly.

Stephen sighed. "That doesnʼt mean that little brat you have talked to us about doesnʼt think little of his poor friend as well", he smiled reassuringly. "That other boy is simply not as class conscious as you are, Gleb. That is all it is, and that is all it ever was, that and simple shyness, something you have to get over."

"No…" Gleb protested as he wiped his tears. No one understood. That wasnʼt the reason he was different, he knew, but he didnʼt want to argue anymore. He didn't even know how to explain the things that set him apart from others.

Listening to his fatherʼs attempt at comforting him did make Gleb feel a bit better though. If the schoolboyʼs impressions were correct, Stephen had actually been listening to the concerns he would only share with his mother for fear of bothering him unnecessarily.

On Sunday morning, the church service ends. Gleb is ready to go back home with his mother, but he feels empty. Both God and Stephen are distant. Gleb feels loved around his dear mother, but stupid school and stupid capitalist exploitation keep them torturously separated for more than half of every week.

But still, Gleb guesses his father is right. He has to get over those feelings somehow. He already has the notes on things to correct, and Peter and Leonid are a good start to his social life.

Next week, Stephen plans to take Gleb with him to a real meeting with the party, where the young boy will, for the very first time, meet people who are not just talk but also action. Gleb is excited about this, for he often fantasizes about becoming a real soldier for the revolution. He dreams of waving red flags and opening up prisons. If the revolution starts soon, Gleb thinks with delight, his classes might even be suspended.

Notes:

• Right now Gleb is 12, but when I write him as a man around 1918, I will probably describe him as looking a bit similar to Ramin Karimloo, but younger (By 1918 he will only be 28), with Jason Michael Evans sprinkled on top, and gray eyes.

"Why the gray eyes?" Good question. I started working on both this fic and Light at the end of the Tunnel way before I even watched the entire musical. I only had watched a few scenes, had read the summary and knew what parts I wanted to include. I also knew a certain "Gleb" would appear, and that he would try to kill Anastasia, but the only mental image I had of him was a picture of the very handsome Ramin Karimloo singing.
The picture was taken at a weird angle in which I could picture, more less, what Ramin looked like, but I couldnʼt figure out what his eye color was, or even most of his facial features.

Keep in mind I have just started to become interested in musical theater. I became obsessed with the musical "Anastasia", and also with the animated fox movie, precisely because of the real Anastasia Nikolaevna I learned about in high school during history class, not the other way around. Uncommon, I know.

This explains why I didnʼt even know what Raminʼs real eye color was even though he is quite famous in the musical world. Now I have seen his eyes, I have seen him perform, and not just in "Anastasia". Man, he really is talented. He can literally run while keeping the same note.

But back then, because I decided to watch the musical some other time, my silly brain filled in the blanks of what Gleb would look like by combining Ramin´s face with that of other actors that look similar to him, and for some reason I came to this conclusion: "He has the most beautiful yet scary-looking light-gray eyes! They will match his moral grayness!"

Me now: ?!

By the time I actually got to watch the full musical and see more pictures of Ramin, I was too attached to this mental image I had of "my" Gleb.

I guess for me it is easier to imagine the characters as looking way different from their actor counterparts in the musical (As incredibly handsome and pretty as they are) because when I imagine the character Anastasia, for example, I will picture what the real Anastasia looked like, not Christy or any of the other actresses that have played her, so things are going to look different anyways, and what is most important for me about the musical is the substance, the characters and their relationships.

Either way, that last explanation was pretty pointless, you can actually imagine Gleb any way you want. This entire backstory was just an excuse to rave about Ramin and explain why Gleb´s looks here are described as being so different from those of any of the actors that have played him.

• In case any of you suspected that Lily was going to be Glebʼs aunt: You are 100% right. That is exactly what I was going for. Then I realized it was something I didnʼt even think through when I wrote the "Lily" chapter. I already edited those parts out.

I am so, so sorry for this mess, I am literally experimenting and improvising with the fictional characters right now, their personalities, backstories and relations to each other.

Lily being Glebʼs aunt kind of ruins what I realized would be best for Glebʼs character, which is coming from an unremarkable background.

• Unlike Gleb, Stephen Vaganov was actually a real person who played a part in the murder of the last Imperial family (Maybe the creators of the musical were inspired by him?), but he is not the same as my character because it is hard to come across much information on the real Stephen, as he was not really an important figure, and I preferred to create him from scratch either way to be honest. A lot of artistic liberty was used for this chapter.

• There might be some unintended historical inaccuracies to be sure, I did my best but this is mostly for fun.

• Last but not least, it is greatly implied that my version of Gleb is somewhere on the autism spectrum, I just didnʼt mention it explicitly because there was no name for autism in the 1900s. I have done some research into it, just like I have done about the time period, but I am not autistic myself (At least I am not diagnosed), so if any of my readers are by chance autistic and find any particular bit of Glebʼs characterization offensive, inaccurate or overly stereotypical, feel free to tell me in the comments! I donʼt ask you to do my research for me but writing this chapter did take a lot of time and effort, and so did the research, so it would be nicer to get a specific "what", "where" and "why" this or that part may or may not be the best representation. If would help me a lot with the editing.