97
MAY THERE BE GOOD ON EARTH
it all her own way. Papa, Dasha got in, took the wheel, and started off
without turning anything on. She thought she had, but I saw and she didn’t
do anything with her hands. Or rather, she turned it on, but she did it men-
tally. And also, Papa, she’s friends with microbes. They obey her.”
“Microbes? What kind of microbes?”
“The kind there are so many of, that live everywhere, around us and in us.
You can’t see them, but they’re there. Remember, Papa, at the edge of our
homestead, in the forest, the metal supports from the old high-voltage elec-
tric lines poking up out of the ground?”
“Yes, and so?”
“They were rusty and on a concrete base. When Dasha went mushroom
picking, she saw these remains and said how bad it was that they kept the
berries and mushrooms from growing. Then she said, “You have to eat them
up quickly, very quickly.”
“And what happened?”
“Two days later these rusty remains and the concrete base were gone. Just
bare earth, no grass at the time. . . . The microbes ate up the metal and con-
crete.”
“But why? Why didn’t you tell me before about all this that was happen-
ing with Dasha, Kostya?
“I was afraid, Papa.”
“Of what?”
“I’ve read in history . . . In the recent past, they tried to isolate people
with unusual abilities. I wanted to tell you and Mama everything, but I
couldn’t find the words to make you understand and believe.”
“Kostya, we always believe you, and not only that but you could have
demonstrated to us . . . Or rather, you could have asked Dasha to demon-
strate her abilities for us on something harmless.”
“That’s not what I was afraid of, Papa. She might have demonstrated . . .”
Kostya fell silent, and when he began to speak his voice was agitated. “Papa,
I love you and Mama. . . . Sometimes I am strict with Dashenka, but I love
her very much, too. She’s good. Dasha is good to everything around her. She
wouldn’t harm a bug. Nor they her. She went up to a beehive, sat down right
