A Day in the Life of Ivan Penislovich

By Hank Fredo

There comes a point in each of our lives where we can't be pushed anymore. Where we must take action. Toiling in a dead end office job in the middle of Russia, Ivan Petrovich knew that moment had arrived on the eve of his fortieth birthday. After careful planning, he is ready to unleash a lifetime of pent up frustrations on those who have wronged him. Armed with his cunning and a plan, he sets out to take control of his life like never before. One by one they fall. But then the unexpected happens and Ivan is confronted by the one thing he could never expect: being noticed by those in positions of power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223389590

Book preview

PROLOGUE

5:00 am

6th October.

Bldg. 2308B

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Before the rays of the sun shimmied through the windows of his small Spartan bedroom, Ivan was already out of bed. He squatted down on his haunches and went through his usual routine; fifty push-ups, a few squats, and a few minutes sitting on his ass, contemplating his existence.

He lives alone, no one is privy to these moments but him. He would often leave off the fifty push-ups and just sit with his hands folded into his lap and his eyes laser-focused on the bathroom door like there is something there, staring right back at him.

A wry smile plays across his face as he slips a heavy notebook out from under his bedframe setting it down between his legs. He pulled out a small box from the same crevice under the bed and opened it right beside the heavy-looking notebook.

Slowly, he unclasped the box, opening it with a carefulness reserved for volatile things. His hands moved gently, gliding over the contents of the box. When he lifted it out of the box, his smile grew. The shiny butt of the OTs-27 Berdysh became visible above the rim of the box. He pulled the gun apart and cleaned it painstakingly. When his hand slipped into the box one more time, a gleaming blade, sharp as it was bright came up, an NR-40. Ivan ran a finger along the blade, bringing his bleeding tip to his mouth. There were others like that, about five of them all of which he picked out slowly, performing the ritual of running a finger along the sharp blade and tasting his blood.

He laughed out loud, the laughter disappearing from his face almost immediately as it had come on. He laid the blades down and grabbed his suitcase from the side of his bed, laying the gun and the blade within the base of the suitcase. At the bottom of his suitcase lay a variety of small plastic containers filled with clear liquids. He touched each bottle tenderly, like a father pathing his kids on the head before heading out for the day.

He walked towards his bedroom and tapped the gas mask sitting placid on his coffee table before walking into the bathroom.

His bathtub is inlaid with white plastic covering. Pulling the bath curtains apart, he grabbed two large plastic bottles off the edge. He set them beside the bathtub and slipped behind the curtains, turning on the shower. Moments later, he was dressed in brown khaki pants, with a white shirt tucked into the pants with a blue bow tie thrown into the mix.

He left his home, carrying his briefcase in his left hand which swung back and forth gently while his order hand hung by his side, unmoving. He didn’t carry a phone with him, he hated the damn things. He preferred a police radio which fit into the left pocket. He drove his old Lada Riva to work, playing bring the heat, Aria’s powerful hard rock song.

Today is the last day of his 39th year on this earth, tomorrow he turns the page unto a new chapter. Before that chapter begins, there are a few things he has to do. He turned off the music on his car and drove in quietly. He didn’t say a word to the security guard at the gate, or the group of workers making their way into the building. He made his way to his desk without saying a word to any one of them.

CHAPTER ONE

8:00 am

6th October.

The Kaliningrad Building

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The atmosphere felt humid with heat as Ivan sat at his desk and watched from his corner as his coworkers arrived one after the other. The office is located on the top floor of a ten-story building. The office is quite a thing of beauty and grace to behold in sight if you like damp rooms with the paints peeling off the walls and barely functional ventilation systems and a swarm of people in the bullpen.

The air within the room was sizzling with a certain excitement, he could put it down to the birthday which is only hours away, or to the numerous designs he has for today. His head was buzzing with options. He had made his plans down to the T but at this moment, sitting in this room, watching his co-workers walk in, he felt a need to make some changes.

Genrika, the petite woman with the blonde hair who wouldn’t stop chattering through the day, or Valera with her skinny butt always cozying up to every man in the office. Her story is everywhere, the men speak about her at the cafeteria while e continues to think she’s the belle of the ball. Yevgeniy, the bulky man from Belarus who thinks he is Russian begs to go first. An impostor begins to believe their own lie if they tell it over and over.

Then there’s Valentin, the rising star. Funny story, stars can easily be squashed, you just have to make sure no one finds the body. The American has to go last, Ivan had already decided that. He has a few questions for Edward, including thoughts about his beards, long and grey even though he is just in his late forties but most importantly, what he is doing here. Ivan already knows the west will always want to know what is going on in Russia, they can never take their noses off the snow no matter how cold it gets.

There is a flower on the desk of everyone that works on the tenth-floor office this morning. He watched as they smiled and took a deep breath with the flowers pressed up against their noses. There was no name on the flowers, except a note from the sender. Ivan has one on his desk too, he grabbed it and threw it into the trash basket beside his desk. "Beauty is like the sun, rising at dawn..." the simple note read. He knew the rest of it and as he watched their furrowed brows as the others read the notes attached to their flowers. He folded his note and threw it in the trash with the rest of it, he already knew the lines, he wrote them as well as all the others within the room.

When we were making a pick for who should take this position, I chose you, a deep, yet startling voice spoke from behind Ivan. He swung around sharply, his eyes resting on Boris Yegorov, his boss. Boris is a short balding man who is way too powerful for this dump.

Ivan felt her skin jump off his body as he hurriedly tried to compose himself, and locked gaze with his boss, one man he didn’t dare add to his list. It wasn’t out of fear but out of respect. Sir... . He smiled and bowed gently.

I don’t know how you do it, but each time I see you at this desk or when I take a look at your work, I see nothing but the dedication of a man who loves his country.

Ivan tried hard not to show any expression, except the bland smile that was nothing but a façade that lasted only a moment.

By the way, gifting your co-workers flowers the day before your birthday is quite the nifty touch, Boris said. Ivan felt his body shake slightly before he got a grip on it. He had sent in