The different

Note №1

      Twenty seconds of June. One thousand nine hundred and forty-one. Today, Reich attacked USSR. I should be happy about this, though. All my handouts to German paid off, and he started to fight with Russian like a dog. Exactly, as I had planned. I’m glad that the threat of the German invasion on my islands has now disappeared, and the situation in the Mediterranean became lighter. I bet on the USA and USSR. America is already helping me in the Western Atlantic with his patrols, and he had sent me something before, as I remember. He doesn’t meddle in our business, not profitable for him, ha! Who would drag this bastard into a war? He will clearly gain money, no matter who wins in the war. I don’t know how Russian is going to help me with his new leader: after their war with the “white” there are not many good fighters with impressive experience left— many died for the Russian Empire. I think he will stifle by quantity rather than quality and skill. There are many Russians on his territory, despite the low birth rate, but… probably these are aged people or future generations. France has already framed me and “crawled” under Nazis, but I’m not going to do the same. The Reich offered me to a surrender on favourable terms, but I won’t buckle under him! I hope that the USSR will help with ground troops because it’s not my strongest point — his entry into the war makes me at least a little happier. I can’t solve all world issues alone, despite the fact that I’m an Empire, right?       “We have offered to the Government of Soviet Russia any technical or economic assistance which is in our power and which is likely to be of service to them. This is no class war. It is a war in which the whole British Empire and Commonwealth of Nations is engaged without distinction of race, creed, or party. His invasion of Russia is no more than a prelude to an attempted invasion of the British Isles. The Russian danger is, therefore, our danger and the danger of the United States.”

***

16th of August, 1941. Britain’s cabinet

      It was almost fifteen minutes to eight, and communist wasn’t still there. He didn’t even decide to call and even to inform him that he would come late! Great Britain was nervous. They talked a lot about an agreement against the Third Reich, and aristocrat was thinking today of giving the Russian a military loan — and this “bear” still has the audacity to be late? Monarch can not be in cooperation and, at the same time, resolve issues alone! Soviet Union has better ground troops and therefore Kingdom will not be able to solve ground issues alone — the Nazi will demolish him like a hurricane, once they cross the “English Channel” from the French territory and that’s it, World War II is over. While there are no invasions, it is worth resolving another issue on the agenda, which, as Britain believed, can not be postponed. Especially because the issue was about money.       The Englishman snorted, took a sip of the cold tea, and put a cup on the saucer. The spoon made an unpleasant noise, ringing throughout the room, and shook Great Britain’s nerves even more. The entire service was on the edge of the table, like the patience of Great Britain that was threatened to break and burst. The monarch even began to get annoyed by his own cabinet! He got up from the leather chair (even pushed off from the back, leaning forward) and walked over to the shelves of the bookcase that stood on the left side of the wall. Exactly the same one was located on the right side. It was gloomy in the room without a single lampe, turned on; all the light comes only from the window. Oh, London… a dim, dirty, dusty, and shabby town, lit only by the sun. Even the friendly smiles of English people outside did not illuminate the street. This was a rare, calm moment of a day.       “The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe” — Daniel Defoe, “Gulliver’s Travels” — Jonathan Swift, the recent crime novel “Evil Under the Sun” — Agatha Christie. Mostly, English literature was on his shelves. Sometimes Alexandre Dumas and Johann Wolfgang Goethe appeared somewhere in the depths of the shelves. Out of boredom, he took Agatha’s recent novel and opened it to the first page he came across: “Sometimes, they say, these calm subjects hide deep suffering under a mask of indifference. Everything in them is sealed like in a bottle,” said the book to him. This reminded him of his cold ally, and so the aristocrat closed the book, slamming it irritably. “Even if he is stuck in deep suffering, it does not mean that he is allowed to come late…” Great Britain glanced at the wall clock, “…twenty minutes!”       He became started to get incredibly angry. The stuffy cabinet walls pressed down on the Englishman. The aristocrat was not that high, and in his office he looked like a child, despite his businesslike suit: blue trousers with a jacket of exactly the same color, a white shirt and, as an accent, a red tie. Familiar, banal, even hackneyed, but a classic is classic, and everyone always returns to it.       So quiet. Even people on the streets are quieter than usual, which is surprising to see in London, a city where life is in a full swing. You can only hear some lonely car driving down the street and stopping after a couple of minutes of noise. The monarch walked around the office a second time and returned the book to its place, tapping his black boots on the bare floor. The waiting is annoying. It seems that during this time, he got at least five more wrinkles! War is a burdensome business. You must follow everything that happens in the world more carefully in order to know by sight those who are for him and those who are against. The Englishman growled with displeasure, feeling like an animal in a cage! He doesn’t like it when someone is late, even though it’s customary for him to be five minutes late according to tradition. At work, the feeling of unofficiality has been drowning out because all over the world, it is customary to arrive either in advance or exactly on time. It is surprising that the pressure increased now, not when the Reich attacked France. The monarch became too careless then! He could have forced Reich to fight on two fronts, but he did not do this, and the cost was quite high — France acted as a bargaining chip. Although, on the other hand, the Frenchman himself is to blame, for he could have fought back, but chose to give up, with his cowardly tail between his legs, and it was precisely this sudden decision that the Englishman did not expect! He thought of France as an equal, and so it turned out so badly: part of the government left, waving goodbye to all future victims of concentration camps, and part remained to live under the Nazi banner, supporting the Vichy regime.       The European wanted to take his thoughts about France away and looked at the first object he came across. His gaze fell at his feet, and therefore collided with the wooden floor. “l should lay a carpet here,” Great Britain concluded after a couple of minutes of walking around the office and listening to the small, unremarkable sound of boots, putting an end to the question, “After the war I’ll take care of all this stuff.” He remembered that he had a lot to do now and that he didn’t have a single free minute yet, even to choose a carpet. The thought of war again brought him back to Soviet Union. Britain muttered angrily in Irish: “Rúiseach amaideach lena n-uaireadóirí lousy!”        In order to somehow freshen up, the monarch decided to open the window. Of course, despite the fact that the attacks ended back in nineteen forty, the smell of burning and the remaining dust of London after the battles in the air was still there. It’s not the best thing to let into your office, but he didn’t want to sit in the stuffiness. He could take off his jacket, but then a feeling of informality would rage within him, as if he would be sitting in front of a communist in a nightie or almost naked! So, the window is now open, and the thought of the Soviet Union is again pushed into the dark corners of the brain. The office was not so large compared to the socialist’s office, which he visited in Moscow to discuss some political issues. The Union office seemed huge! That office was even taller than Russian, and Soviet was two meters and ten centimetres tall! An aristocrat with a height of one meter and fifty-two was truly equal to a bug in front of him! But the problem with the office was that it was cluttered with all sorts of things. There were two ambrys with glass doors, in which there were not only dishes, but also some old stuff incomprehensible to the Kingdom, absolutely in no way correlated with the owner of the place. For example, there was some kind of knife tied with a red ribbon, the same earflap hat as the Unions one, but without a red star in the center, a strange tea set, dusty and untouched, and next to it there was some kind of lipstick with a pattern on the lid in the form of a double-headed eagle. It is quite strange that the USSR retained something related to the coat of arms of the Russian Empire — a rather unusual action for a purebred communist. On the frame in which there was some kind of photograph hung a strange blue-blue pendant, shimmering from dark to light in different lighting and different viewing angles. On the wall, to the right of the lockers, on a nail hung a pocket watch on a chain, old, cracked, and not working.       All in all, a lot was stored in his office, and Great Britain could not understand why he would store old, especially broken things! The monarch himself could not even admit the thought of having something superfluous and unnecessary on his desk and in his office. Books, perhaps, played the role of decoration, but sometimes the aristocrat still picked them up and re-read them! Some of the boring ones were removed and replaced with more interesting, new ones.       The Englishman looked out the window, put his hands on the windowsill, and looked down. A car was already at the entrance, which meant that Soviet Union was in the building. When sounds appeared in the corridor, the aristocrat turned around and headed to his desk as quickly as possible, limping, but at the same time irritably tapping his boots, trying to imitate displeased stomping, although due to his short stature and little strength it turned out badly. “Finally,” the monarch thought angrily. Continuing to walk, he picked up his pocket watch halfway, which showed not only hours and minutes but also seconds. Eight hours, twenty-three minutes and twenty-six seconds — exactly at that time, there was a knock on Great Britain’s office. The Englishman was in no hurry to answer the knock: he chose his most disgusting and angry version of “come in,” but the USSR did not expect an answer. He opened the door, leaned over to avoid hitting his head on the top of the frame, and found himself on the threshold. Britain involuntarily snorted with impudence and inability to even open his mouth banally to ask permission to come in, plus the fact that the Union was late also hurt the aristocrat.       The Russian immediately began with awkward and not particularly plausible explanations: “Sorry for my delay. Some unforeseen circumstances happened on the way.” An overused phrase that UK has heard billions of times and it never sounds any different. The only difference was the intonation, or rather the lack of it thereof. There wasn’t even a pinch of regret in his voice. The monarch glared at him with a dissatisfied look, which he learned from England, his father. Judgmental, angry, and kind of nasty. The eyebrows were straight and did not show anger. He only winced a little, showing either disgust or indifferent, ignoring behaviour. But only his eyes expressed all the emotions that he felt now and even more! This behaviour didn’t particularly frighten the Russian: he knew that he was physically stronger and that the old man wouldn’t do anything to him with his frayed nerves. Moreover, the communist is his main ally! There was even a small glint of amusement in the red eye at how nervous Britain was about his tardiness. It was as if the USSR was deliberately late in order to annoy its ally to show its importance, and perhaps it seemed so only to the Englishman. Lately, he began to notice more often that he was thinking too much about some little things that did not have any real weight.       “Eight hours, twenty-three minutes, and,” he looked at his watch again, “forty-six seconds.” Interrupted the elder one the lies of his one-eyed ally, showing that he do not cares about what happened to the communist on the way here. Even if he was burying a favourite hamster or was moving grandmother across the road. He was late, and that is a fact. The monarch looked up from his watch and again gave his ally a lousy look. There was silence for a second. The aristocrat deliberately fell silent, trying to somehow offend the revolutionary’s conscience if he had one. “You should learn to move quicker, young man.” “I apologise, one more.” Now he answered briefly and useless phrases, but the look did not express a drop or semblance of sympathy. The lips, perhaps, are bent with displeasure in slight disgust and hostility. He looked at Britain as if he looked at an ant. The monarch was silent for a couple of seconds, thinking whether to forgive the Russian or not, but in fact, he did not care about the apology. Neither of them cared about it. The European, again, tried to cause confusion and doubt in his ally, but he did not change an ounce. Britain quickly abandoned this idea. After all, there are more important things to do than teaching Russian manners and normal behaviour. “Someone else should do this stuff, but definitely not me!” thought the elder. “Have a seat, please. And close the door behind you, there’s still so much corridor dust here” Kingdom blurted out sternly, nodding to the chair opposite the table. USSR turned to the door and closed it behind itself. The Englishman went to the window, exhaling heavily: “I’m afraid that I’ll have to offer you my watch.” “I have got enough of them in my office” the communist shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Then the second eye, to watch a clock more carefully” Great Britain grinned, even though he knew that such topics should not be joked or offended in any way. After all, he himself has some scars and injuries, although not as serious as the loss of his organ of vision. Union did not like this comment. He just silently walked in the centre of the room. The atmosphere is not conducive, the best for beating each other. USSR had to hunch over when he approaching to the chair, because due to his height, he rested against the ceiling, and it even seemed that if the USSR took hold of it with its giant hands and added a little strength, he could easily tear off the top of the room! “If you gouge your eye out, I will be more pleased with this fact than with the fact of a new one” the Slav threatened, as simply as if he was talking about the weather. In response, he only heard a tut — Great Britain did not take the thrown seriously.       Union was alike to his father. More precisely, he was hiding the fact that he was his second copy and even worse. It may seem that Great Britain and the Russian Republic got along well, but in reality, only England sympathized the Russian. He did not hesitate to compare Britain and England and elevate England. Although people say only good things about the dead, right? The Republic always looked askance at Great Britain, and at first, Britain did not understand what was going on, but then it dawned on him. The aristocrat’s father always stayed with the Russians for a long time and always returned with gifts. This condemnation and comparison is part of the defence, the denial of the death of England. Britain and England were very similar in manners and habits, and, probably, the realization that the Republic could not communicate with Great Britain on topics common with England angered the Russian.       The monarch went to the window and closed it so as not to let in any more dirty air. He slowly closed it with curtains. It became even darker than before — a strange, even somewhat intimate atmosphere. Union tried to fit on the chair that stood in front of the table and which Great Britain pointed to. The chair was cracking under the communist and did not look particularly strong. It seemed that every plank and every piece of sawdust intended to fly out, knock USSR to the floor, and put him in an awkward position. This, of course, is quite expected, because just by one glance at a Russian everyone could understand: in terms of weight, a communist is clearly not a feather, on the contrary, he is comparable to some huge building! Soviet Union rose from his chair so that it would not collapse under him. He did not show some kind of irritation and tension — it seemed that this was not the first chair that had broken under him! The aristocrat went up to the table, took the service, which stood at the very edge, and put it in the large square drawer of the table, walking around it. The Englishman seemed absorbed in thinking about something in his head, but about what exactly remained unknown to the USSR. It was as if a ball had formed around him, a vacuum that did not let through noises or muffled the disgruntled panting of his ally. He woke up only when the Russian finally said: “I don’t think the chair will… Um…” Soviet Union began, not even knowing how to say that the chair was breaking under him. He stood next to the chair, hiding his awkwardness and slight loss. The Englishman emerged from under the table and saw what had happened. The chair was not crushed yet, fortunately. Putting two and two together, Great Britain guessed what the problem was. " Wait, I’ll ask for a new one that’s stronger,” the elder was now talking calmly, apparently having solved a puzzle in his head. He straightened his shoulders, pushing a couple of worries out of his head, and headed towards the door. The communist put the miraculously surviving chair aside and, hunched over, walked around the table. A stupid thought flashed in his head. At least, it would seem so to others, but for some reason, not to Soviet Union. He walked around the table, stood with his back to it, leaned on his hands, and leaned a little on the table to check. He didn’t even squeak! The tall man sat down on the table and moved slightly to the edge in case any contracts were signed. All this time, Great Britain did not look at what the communist was doing, again absorbed in something in his head. He paid attention to him only when the USSR said: “No need to,” the Briton turned to see how the Russian got out of this situation, and after what he saw, his eyes widened. The aristocrat was even speechless from the impudence of the Soviet Union.       USSR sits on his desk, where he always works. Britain even wanted to sit down, too, but not next to him, better on a chair. Or collapse into the sofa that was standing nearby. The aristocrat crossed his arms over his chest in displeasure, and his eyes were in the shape of saucers. He looked at this picture from top to bottom and was silent for a couple of seconds. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the communist, but at the same time as if through him, as if the Russian no longer existed for the Englishman. “And as I guess we’ll use the chair for writing on it?” Great Britain hissed angrily, quieter than usual. The Russian moved his hand near the empty space on the table, but the Kingdom had no desire to sign anything there. “Is that enough for you?” “My opinion about you has already been formed, you young uneducated herod!” thought the aristocrat. But it was too late to carry another chair “Okay, I’ll remember tgat and then return such a trick.” “Yes,” said the aristocrat, approaching the table, but did not intend to sit down. He wanted to be at the same height as the Russian and look into his eyes. He believed that you should always look your interlocutor in the eyes. Countries can seriously talk about any nonsense, but eyes are the mirror of the soul and will never hide the truth! The pupils may move around the corners, dilate, and contract. They show fear and doubt and tell everything to the aristocrat. Anyone who knows how to look competently into someone else’s eyes can read a lot in them! “So what exactly did you want to discuss?” Asked USSR more seriously. The Englishman came to his senses and put aside the recent quarrel. “You were chattering into the phone so much that I couldn’t make out anything,” the monarch tutted at this. He actually vaguely remembered his conversation with USSR. Probably, the Englishman really was distracted by something, that he could not convey his thoughts properly, and therefore made an appointment here. He shouldn’t have called Union until he had finished other things, but he had to do several things at once! Calm London, observe the situation in the Kingdom of Italy, contact the USA, the Union, and the bank so that they send him an agreement. There was a lot to do! Great Britain crossed his arms over his chest. For some reason, he always did this when he started having a serious conversation. “I wanted to discuss Iran” Communist raised a hit eyebrow in a misunderstanding. “Iran?” “Yep” said the aristocrat clearly so that his ally could understand him. “Why Iran? What do you need it for?” “We both need Iran” “And how does Iran benefit me?” Soviet Union seemed to grin, but the proper emotion did not appear on his face. “The main Lend-Lease supplies from the USA pass through it. If you’ll come to an agreement with America, then he will gladly send you supplies of equipment, raw materials, food, and medical equipment, but Iran may interfere with this. I don’t like his neutrality. Moreover, he has a lot of German agents that could interfere with deliveries.” “What is a Lend-Lease, by the way? A Port? USSR tilted his head in confusion and squinted. He was not interested in affairs in Europe, and even when Reich attacked him, he was in no hurry to cooperate with Great Britain. Unless, perhaps, after realizing that he himself can not cope. “An American program which provides useful supplies to countries《whose defence is considered vital to America.》It also include petroleum products, and Iran has them. “Not for free, of course?” “That’s true. The allies are obliged to provide the US Army with goods, transportation services and military bases” Soviet Union straightened up, fortunately, now there was an opportunity due to the fact that he was sitting and not standing at full height. He was clearly dissatisfied with something. “Military bases?” USSR said somehow dumbfounded and dissatisfied. “Yes,” the monarch was calm. The communist involuntarily growled something, looking away. He believed that it was rather inadvisable to trust your military bases to the United States. Perhaps it was because the Union saw America as a rival because of their political views. Communists and capitalists have always argued and continue to do so, but what will happen if the United States has military bases in the USSR? This will not lead to good things. Union paused, putting a hand to his face near his lips and looking away to the lower left corner. Great Britain gave him thirty seconds to think about it. Soon, the British ally again turned his gaze to the Briton, removed his hand from his face, and leaned forward a little, moving closer to the monarch. There were only a couple of centimetres left of the Englishman’s face. Great Britain regarded this movement as a desire to listen. “Are there any other pitfalls?” said USSR sternly, but interestedly. “There is a Lend-Lease Law. It includes two rules: Property transferred under Lend-Lease, remaining after the end of the war and suitable for civilian purposes, will be paid for in whole or in part on the basis of long-term loans provided by the United States and in the event of the interest of the American side, not destroyed or not lost equipment and equipment must be returned to the United States after the war. “So, I will have to pay extra?” Soviet Union was indignant, straightened up, and clutched the table with his hands. Towered over the short, Briton. “I’m also not particularly happy to finance the American pocket, but these supplies are necessary. At least for me. If you don’t want to, don’t participate! “No. I need it,” said the Union, although he even mumbled, hunching over again and looking away, as if he was ashamed. For some reason, he was ashamed to admit that he needed help. He didn’t want to immediately go into debt, even though it was clear that help was already needed. The Germans are almost at Moscow. “Then negotiate with the United States, but for now let’s return to Iran. It could interfere with supplies.” “Right.” “Have you asked him to take the agents out? Or should we get ready for occupation?” “Tomorrow, I’m going to send an official announcement to them. If Iran still refuses to remove the agents, we are going to start attacking immediately.” He thought for a while. “Even if it makes no sense to guess on the coffee grounds, you still need to plan your attack. Many “neutral” countries refuse to help us. For example, Norway was one of these. “Is he still neutral?” “The Nazis occupied him in April 1940.” “Yeah. For some reason, this dog began to cooperate with Fin,” Soviet Union was not content. Finland pissed him off to hell, if only with his sudden hostility towards the Russians. “What’s the code name in case of refusal?” “Operation 《agreement》 “It’ll do. There’s also something I’d like to ask,” The Englishman raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “What do you need?” Asked he curiously. “I need people. A small group in one of my cities.” This statement confused the aristocrat. How will the USSR help him with ground forces if he asks for help himself? This annoyed him. “You need people…?” asked him again. “Yes. The Germans are near Moscow, and right now, they need to fight back for further action. This is the first and last time, I hope,” Soviet Union tried to somehow soften the strange request. He didn’t like to ask for something, especially from a European, but it was still necessary. He looked sternly at his ally, “And it’s not only me who is obliged to help you, isn’t it? The meaning of cooperation is for the benefit of both,” the communist seemed to choke with words. For some reason, the idea of ​​basic cooperation, where everyone helps each other, was disgusting to the elder. He didn’t even wince on purpose and looked away, pressing his hands on his chest tighter. Such a cold-blooded reaction did not suit the Russian. He got angry, and before speaking, he even hissed something irritably to the side. He stared sternly at his ally, “Or do you think that I am your guardian angel, feeding only on the Holy Spirit?” The elder turned his gaze back to Soviet, straightened up, and all the embarrassment went away. Pride began to play within him. Stepping forward, he poked his finger into the large chest and looked with his heavenly eyes at one amber stone, which was called an eye. “No need for such comparisons! You are not even close to an angel. This is first, and secondly, I am aware of what it means to cooperate. I didn’t live in the forest, you know!” “Great,” USSR looked away and leaned back slightly. There was still irritation in the voice, “So you will send me troops soon, right?” “Where exactly?” The Englishman removed his hand from his chest but continued to stand nearby, snorting. “Arkhangelsk.” “A city?” “Well, definitely not a village.” “How should I know about your cities?!” The monarch became nervous and raised his tone. These “city” games were already starting to piss him off. He didn’t care what the name of anyone’s capital, republic, or village was! Even if it’s an island, what difference does it make to him? “Will you tell me all the capitals of England, Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland?” “No, why do I even need to know it?” Angrily abandoned the Soviet Union. And these are mine main cities! And you ask me to know a city in the middle of nowhere city! Great Britain almost shouted, but immediately after everything that he wanted, his throat became sore. He finally stepped away from the younger man, turned to the side, and coughed as hard as he could. It had been a while since he had yelled at someone. The Russian looked away, either out of awkwardness or out of anger and disgust.       Fortunately, the monarch did not cough for long, although, of course, it was a bit painful. It took him about a couple of seconds to get to normal. Everything inside him seemed to be on fire, and his throat became irritated. In the end, he finally coughed and slowly straightened up, growling displeasedly. After catching his breath a little, he still said: “Fine, I’ll send you a troop.” UK exhaled and returned to a position, in which he stood before. “Is that all for today?” “Not yet. I also wanted to discuss some credit conditions.” The communist tsked and exhaled, gaining new strength. He looked away, leaning back slightly, fastidiously crossing his legs. “I’m not interested in your conditions. I won’t be able to pay everything off in a year, even four years! And the cost of the loan differs by zero point five,” said the communist rude. Everything always went downhill when it came to money. Apparently, the communists really have some kind of conflicts with it, that’s why they hate it. Even if the USSR was only a socialist. “Then let’s sove the pulse now. You pay me three per cent a year. The amount will be ten million pounds. The conditions will be whatever you require. I can’t give more to you!” Great Britain threw up his hands. The Englishman knew that he had lost all benefits from this deal. Soviet Union deliberately put himself at risk in order to make the conditions as profitable as possible, and Aristocrat knew that but could not do anything. He couldn’t lose a new good ally.       The USSR again turned his gaze to Great Britain. The look was so indifferent, as if a communist was looking at a fish in an aquarium, something inferior and so insignificant that it was not wores wasting time on it. The British did not like this gaze. He also tried to somehow show his superiority: he did not bend under the Russian eye, kept himself straight, his breathing did not even falter, his gaze became more vile, although for some reason his heartbeat became faster, and only because the self-satisfaction of the USSR made him clench his teeth and growl, like an animal. If it weren’t for his upbringing and politeness, he would have attacked the communist with his fists just for his stupid unofficial style! A stupid black jacket, a stupid brown coat with such nasty fur, and a damn hat with earflaps, which, according to the Briton, looked stupid as well! His nerves haven’t been able to handle it. Maybe cause of the war, or it might cause of his surroundings. Perhaps it was because France. He cowardly capitulated, and now the aristocrat could not complain to him about how tired he was of the new impudent generation of countries such as the USSR. Of course, France also infuriated him with his stupid smile and stupid dimples on his face. Too often, the Frenchman bent that false smile halfway across his face. He could hate Britain and at the same time whisper something in his ear in his beautiful language, burr more beautifully, even if this would create grammatical errors in the sentence, because the French are not always obliged to burr. But now we are not talking about France right now. “What does this Russian buffoon think he is?!” Great Britain panted in his thoughts. “Have you forgotten how to speak?” The elder said either sarcastically or with a claim, again returning the dialogue to formal. He was calm as never before. “Or do you sleep with your eyes open? Time is money. Although, I see you have a carriage and a small cart of that since you have not responded to my proposal for a minute. “I just remembered something interesting,” the Russian admitted, although this did not make his gaze any more lively. He actually looked a little interested in the aristocrat. “Does this somehow concern me?” “Sort of.” Said he slowly. “Since it’s only “sort of, “then solve this with my secretary, not me. Today, we should talk about the main problems,” Great Britain could not stand it. God knows what was holding him back, either from suicide or from murder! It seemed that in another second, the eye would begin to twitch from any movement or sigh of the USSR, but finally, the Union came to his senses and even got down from the table! “Oh, finally!” The liberated howl burst out like thunder in the Englishman’s head. To celebrate, he even went up to the table and bent down, opening a square drawer. A couple of seconds later, the document lay triumphantly on the table. All that remained was for both of them to sign and make ends meet! The Soviet Union took a pen, one of those that lay in a special cup with the rest of its brothers, and signed in the lower left corner without reading the document. He knew that if he stayed in the monarch’s office for another second, he would mercilessly devour him with all his giblets, and leave the bones for his dogs, if, of course, he had them. The Russian did not know this and did not want to be interested. He himself already had sixteen dogs at home, scratching every time you didn’t look after them, and that was quite enough! The aristocrat nevertheless spent a couple of seconds, running his eyes over the document, and signed at the bottom right, on the side opposite to the Russian signature. “So, is that all?” Soviet Union rose from the table and was now talking calmly. This surprised the Englishman a little, but he decided to leave everything as it was. “Well, we still need to call our banks and organise everything there. I’ll do it this evening.” “Great,” said the communist without enthusiasm and without expressing any emotion, standing half-bent in front of his ally, “Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Maybe.” He shrugged. “God, please no…” prayed he immediately in sotto voice. The USSR headed towards the door and left, throwing out a muffled: “Goodbye,” so that the aristocrat didn’t even have time to say anything in response. It wasn’t necessary.