There is an apartment in an old apartment house built yet in the early 20>th century. The apartment has many ample rooms with high ceilings. Beside a massive hanger made of oak and a huge mirror of Venetian glass the main decoration of a big hallway is an antique floor clock with a pendulum. The doorbell keeps ringing with some short breaks. Finally, Rodion dressed in a night-suit shows up from the shade of the room and opens the door. Myshevsky comes in. The clock strikes twelve.
Myshevskiy. Good afternoon. Sorry, it looks like I woke you up. But I have an appointment.
Rodion. Is it morning already?
Myshevskiy. I would say noon if one can trust this clock.
Rodion. Oh, I wish this damned pendulum tore off! It just scares buddies… Anything to drink?
Myshevskiy. I’d rather have some tea.
Rodion. Actually, I mean harder revivers.
Myshevskiy. No, thanks. Besides, there is no reason for it.
Rodion. My grandfather – God rest his soul – used to say: there is something to drink, there is always a reason. Well, I as you like though…
Myshevskiy. So, can I see professor Golyshkin? Stalver Udarpyatovich made me an appointment at twelve. Is he in?
Rodion. He must be in his home office scribbling some book or surfing some porno sites. It depends on whether he is dragging his ass now or cooing some stuff over.
Myshevskiy. Can I see him?
Rodion. My grandfather Udarpyat Rodionovich Golyshkin would answer such a question like that – it doesn’t hurt to try.
Myshevskiy. Actually, this expression belongs to Stalin. And it is pretty backhanded.
Rodion. My grandfather used to consider Stalin a great man. In all terms.
Myshevskiy. Your grandfather was…?
Rodion. He was a State Security General. Does it make you feel uneasy?
Myshevskiy. No, but it makes something clear. My grandfather was just a doctor, but before making a decision he had to think a lot. In return, one could never argue with his diagnosis.
Rodion. It looks like your grandfather was a dull beggar.
Myshevskiy. He was quite a sociable person. Until the day he was condemned. Condemned to twenty five years without a right of correspondence. As a people’s enemy… So, will you let me in?
Rodion. If you walk alone it will take you time to find a right way. This apartment is just a maze! There are too many rooms for a philosopher. The old Diogenes would have praised my dad for it.
Myshevskiy. Then show me to his room. If it doesn’t trouble you.
Rodion. Well, let’s go then. Follow me and don’t turn anywhere. If a bat seats on your shoulder don’t think that it’s a pipe dream. After my mom’s death our house has got quite shabby.
Myshevskiy. I feel quite comfortable here as if I came back home after a long trip.
Rodion. Really, you are not a normal guy. I noticed it right away, when you refused from drinking.
Myshevskiy. It could happen after your mother’s death. Sometimes houses get shabby when a brownie leaves them.
Rodion. What’s the rubbish?
Myshevskiy. It looks like you don’t know the folklore beliefs. In old times in Russia a good-natured brownie was believed to keep hearth and home. It was the brownie who maintained coziness at home and kept the quite spirit of its hosts.
Rodion. Oh, blimey! Actually, I thought that cats keep hearth and home.
Myshevskiy. Cats get used to people, but brownies – to homes. When an old host dies the brownie starts exhausting the new one if he doesn’t like him. However, sometimes the brownie just leaves. The house is getting shabby and abandoned.
Rodion. So, you mean, that my dad and me put a slight upon your good guy brownie, huh?
Myshevskiy. Actually, this is your brownie. By the way, how long have you been living here?
Rodion. As long as I remember myself. My father inherited this apartment from my grandfather who used to say that it belonged yet to his grandfather. So, it’s a kind of family castle devolving by the Golyshkins. I am balling of it! The noble Golyshkins family!
Myshevskiy. Are you absolutely sure?
Rodion. You mean that we are a noble family?
Myshevskiy. I mean that this apartment belonged to your grand-grandfather?
Rodion. Hey, listen, you screw me down with your questions! Why are you stuck in them?
Myshevskiy. It’s just curiosity.
Rodion. It’s bullshit! Okay, we’ve come finally…
Rodion and Myshevsky enter the room which serves as a working office for Golyshkin. He is writing something on a sheet of paper sitting at a massive antique desk. Along the walls there are book shelves filled with books in golden leather covers. There are a few arm-chairs and chairs, as well as a small coffee table in the corner. All is antique. Only a telephone on a desk indicates the present times. The canvases with portraits of ancient philosophers hang on the walls. Among them there is a portrait of Stalin which is of a little bigger size.
Rodion. Hey, dad, there is a guest for you! You will get along. He is also a weird buddy as you are.
