It seemed to him that what he was guarding was more than just the building where the PartCom was located – the eight windows, four walls and tiled roof that had come the way of the Party after the expropriation of Mirzokul-Tailor, the original owner of the cotton factory; yes, it seemed to Belkov that he was guarding the very edifice of Communism. And when he saw the slogans that Ortik-Picture-Reels had written in his crooked hand in exchange for a bottle of Russian vodka – slogans like “Let Communism be Constructed by 1980!” or “Long Live our Splendid Nation, the Splendid Builder of Splendid Communism!” – caretaker Belkov would laugh with his toothless mouth, knowing that the building of Communism had already been built and that he himself, ex-Master-Railwayman Belkov, had been appointed to guard it every third night. “What matters most in Communism?” he would ask to the bewilderment of Froska, his plump and lovely wife, who sold fizzy water in the station and was pined after by the entire male population of Gilas.
