"Sit down, don't be afraid. You'll have a great time."
"What's so great about it?"
"It's a lot of fun."
"How so?"
"Well, you just wait till the wheel starts spinning -- it'll toss you off, smack right into the wall! It's very funny."
That was a typical conversation on the "Devil's Wheel."
A few years ago, some clever entrepreneurs built an amusement park in St. Petersburg. I used to go there for a somewhat unusual reason: I like observing fools. At the amusement park, I would find better, more colorful specimens for my collection -- and in more abundant numbers -- than anywhere else.
An amusement park is, quite simply, a fool's paradise. Everything is set up so that a fool will enjoy himself.
The fool would enter the "Hall Of Mirrors," take a look at his seven-foot-long legs growing right out of his chest, at his two-foot face -- and he'd laugh like a child. He'd sit down into the "Crazy Barrel," get pushed down the ramp, and the barrel would start bumping against posts on both sides, shaking the fool like a pellet inside a rattle, bruising his ribs and shins -- that's when the fool would realize that there is still some care-free happiness left in the world. And then he would walk over to the "Merry Kitchen," and he'd see that it was made just for him, too. A few yards behind a barrier, there were shelves filled with defective plates, bowls, bottles, and glasses; the fool could throw wooden balls at them, after purchasing this enviable right for a rouble. The fool stood to gain nothing from this -- he wasn't awarded any prizes for his performance; nor did he receive any applause from the crowd, since hitting a plate at such a small distance was easy as pie -- and yet, believe it or not, smashing up dozens of plates and bottles was every fool's favorite pastime. And after the "Merry Kitchen," all worked up from the exercise, the fool would go cool down in the "Haunted House." This was a place where you had to be ready for anything, from the moment you entered it. You would grope your way along pitch-black, narrow corridors, while glow-in-the-dark ghosts would appear on all sides, and some invisible hands would try to strangle you; then you would tumble down some tube onto some padded mat; and when, finally, you triumphantly emerged onto a brightly-lit walkway high above the crowd -- then, all of a sudden, a strong stream of air would suddenly start blowing right from underneath you; if you were a man, your coat would rise above your head like a pair of wings, whereas if you were a woman, the salacious public would instantly become acquainted not only with the color of your garters, but with some other things that belong on the best, rawest, most titillating page of an erotic novel, rather than in an article about politics.
So that's what the amusement park was like: heaven, to a fool; hell, to an average person who happened to wander in by accident; and a boundless opportunity for scientific investigation, to a thoughtful observer wishing to study the Russian fool in his natural habitat.
As I look at the Russian revolution, I can't help but notice how much it has in common with that amusement park. The parallels are so exact, it's simply scary.
The radical transformation of society, the destruction of the old, supposedly outdated, institutions -- hey, isn't that the "Merry Kitchen"? Laid out on the shelves are the old justice system, the old finance system, the church, the arts, the press, the theater, the schools -- such a sumptuous display!
The fool walks up to the barrier, grabs as many wooden balls from the basket as he can with his left hand, takes one into his right, aims, and -- wham! -- the justice system falls to pieces. Wham! -- there go the finances. Crash! -- there go the arts, and all that's left instead is some miserable ProletKult stump.
The fool is getting fired up, he's getting the hang of it -- and he's got plenty of wooden balls left. Wham! -- now, the church is smashed to bits, the schools are in ruins, trade is in tatters. The fool is having the time of his life; the spectators -- French, English, German -- are laughing themselves silly, and the German even eggs him on:
"Wow, how clever you are! Come on, hit the universities once again. Come on, show us what you can do to the industry!"
He's so hot-headed, the Russian fool -- oh, so hot-headed... What good is it that later, once the happy thrill is gone, he will cry bitter tears over the smashed-up church, the broken finance system, the already-dead sciences -- but, right now, everyone's watching him! Right now, he is the center of attention, this fool whom nobody even used to notice before.
And who's that riding in the "Crazy Barrel," bumping his sides, losing his hat, cracking his ribs, and breaking his kneecaps? Oh, that's an ordinary Russian traveling with his family from Chernigov to Voronezh, in our merry revolutionary times. Bang against a post -- the baby goes out the railcar window; bang against another -- Petlyura's men toss him out himself; bang against yet another -- Makhno's men rob him of his suitcase.
And who's that, standing in front of a distorting mirror, and not knowing whether to laugh or to cry? That's simply a naive man, trying to recognize himself in how a different political party's newspaper depicted him.
And that "Haunted House," where they lead you down dark, narrow, winding corridors, where they scare you, where they push you around, where they maim you -- is that not the Cheka, that most striking creation of the Third International? It is indeed a blend of many nations: Latvians, Russians, Jews, Chinese -- hangmen of all countries, unite!
But the most amazingly, the most shockingly similar part is the "Devil's Wheel."
Here's the February Revolution -- its very beginning, before the wheel had started spinning yet. In the middle of the polished surface stands the most notorious fool of our times, Aleksandr Kerensky, yelling as loudly as if he were addressing a rally:
"Come on, comrades! Join the game, we're about to start. Milyukov! Sit down, don't be afraid. You'll have a great time."
"What's so great about it?"
"It's a lot of fun. You just wait till the wheel starts spinning -- it'll be tossing everyone off, and into the wall... However, you can sit in the very center, next to me, and we should manage to hang on. You too, Guchkov -- sit down, have no fear... We'll spin this thing beautifully... OK, is everyone ready? Off we go!"
And off they went.
A few turns of the "Devil's Wheel" -- and already we see Pavel Milyukov start to slide, trying in vain to hold on to his neighbor.
Wwwwhhhzzzzzzzz! -- the wheel whistles as it gains speed, and Milyukov crashes into the wall, thrown out by the irresistible centrifugal force.
And now, Guchkov starts sliding after him, grabbing Skobelev by the sleeve... Skobelev tries to push him away, but it's too late. He loses his balance, and they both go flying like feathers in a hurricane.
"Aha!" -- Tsereteli gleefully shouts, latching onto Kerensky's leg. "Hold on tight! The left-wingers and the right-wingers will fall off, but we, the center, can hang on."
As if! Tsereteli loses his grip, and he -- along with Chkheidze -- is tossed all the way to the wall of the Caucasus.
Kerensky laughs happily, as he rapidly twirls in the very center; he feels as if this sweet sensation will last forever. But now, next to him, suddenly appears a shapeless tangle of three heads and six legs, known commonly as "Gotzliberdan." It wraps itself against Kerensky's foot; the general commander emits a plaintive cry, moving an inch to the left... But that's all the "Devil's Wheel" needs!
And Kerensky is propelled into the air -- head over heels, not just to the wall but over it -- landing somewhere far away, either in London or in Paris.
The "Devil's Wheel" has thrown everyone off -- so, now, it slows down almost to a complete stop, to allow a new merry bunch to climb aboard: Trotsky, Lenin, Nakhamkis, Lunacharsky...
"Come join us, comrades! Sit tighter! Those fools couldn't hold on, but we will! OK, here we go!"
Wwwwwwhhhhhhzzzzzzz!
And all we can do now is wait and watch: let's see who will be the first to slide off, and who ends up crashing against which wall.
If only I could get my hands on them, when they do...