Pravles Redneckoff 🇷🇺 Z

Vienna City Hall, Friedrich-Schmidt-Platz 1, 1st district of Vienna

Friday, September 20th, 2019, 13:00

Lisa and Buba stand near the entrance of the city hall of Vienna. Lisa is wearing the blue dress. Today the "Life Ball" takes place here. The declared purpose of this event is to raise money for the victims of AIDS.

People dressed up like Ruby Rhod from The Fifth Element walk up the stairs and into the city hall.

According to the rules of the event, attendees get a free ticket if they dress in an original way. And so they do.

One woman catches Lisa's attention. She stands in a crowd of peacocking peasants. She is dressed in a simple white dress, which stands out because of its restraint.

The woman smiles at Lisa. She flashes her perfect teeth, surrounded by a well-groomed black beard. It's Conchita Wurst, a Eurovision winner and modern Austrian beauty standards incarnate.

Buba said I was half-crazy, Lisa thinks. Compared to these people I'm the epitome of rationality.

What did he bring me here for? Lisa thinks. He said something about calming down. This choice of location for getting more mindful is counter-intuitive, to say the least.

Lisa observes Buba. He looks at the guests of the ball attentively.

I feel like he is more interested in that girlie fashion stuff than I am, Lisa thinks. Isn't it supposed to be the other way round?

"Can we go inside?" Lisa says.

"Sure," Buba says.

They enter the city hall. It is a neo-Gothic building with the statue of a knight at the top of its central tower.

Today the city hall feels as if it was to Vienna what the Armory is to San Francisco.

They go into a large room. In the center, several people are dancing. Their leather clothing and BDSM hoods, combined with the pointed arches, stone walls, and Gothic ironwork amplifies the dungeon vibe.

On the sides there are tables where other people sit, chat, and look at the dancers.

Definitely not my cup of tea, Lisa thinks. I've had enough enslavement in real life. Need to find a way to get out of here. This Buba-bonding is not working for me.

Buba stops in front of the dance floor. He looks at the dancers and smiles.

"You never see that in Russia," Buba says.

Neither in Kiev, Lisa thinks. At least I hope you can't see it there.

Lisa hears a voice of an old man next to her.

"Did you just snub me?" the voice says.

Lisa and Buba walk further in search of a free table.

"Buba!" the voice says again.

Buba turns around. A man of at least seventy years approaches Buba and Lisa. He wears a tailcoat and a top hat. He holds a cane in his left hand.

His eyes are way too playful for his age. He wears a smile that could be just friendly, or it could be arrogant, or mocking. It keeps you guessing whether this type of smile is an accurate expression of his psyche, or simply a mishap with a recent Botox injection.

Timur was right all along, Lisa thinks. I can barely stand one old creep, now there are two.

She wants to run away. It's one thing for a man to dress like a woman (or vice versa). It is quite another to be a functioning adult who gets whatever their narcissistic ego wants, by hook or by crook.

Maybe that's what he has in common with Buba, Lisa thinks. I need to find a quiet exit. This whole 'decompression with Buba project' isn't working. I'm more nervous now than I was before.

Buba turns around.

"Mörtel! I'm sorry, I didn't see you," Buba says. "You know, in our culture one says – if someone does not recognize you, it means you will get rich. But you are already rich."

Mörtel nods like he is used to such flattery. Then he looks at Lisa.

"Don't you want to introduce me to this wonderful creature?" Mörtel says.

"Lisa, this is Richard Fritzl," Buba says. "He is the king of the Viennese construction industry."

"My friends call me Mörtel," the old man says to Lisa.

He stretches his hands out towards Lisa. It is covered with pigmentation spots.

Does he expect me to kiss his hand? Lisa thinks. It's like kissing Jabba the Hutt.

"Nice to meet you, Herr Fritzl," Lisa says.

She crosses her hands over her chest.

"Oh, you don't want to be my friend, is that right?" Mörtel says. "Well, that's very refreshing."

Mörtel looks at Lisa. He turns his head to see her from the side.

"On the other hand, with a body like that, you can afford arrogance," Mörtel says. "Beauty can turn rudeness into charm."

Mörtel nods and taps with his fingers on the handle of his cane.

"She needs to wear something more revealing. I don't see enough," he says to Buba. "You know, Mausi-5 is getting old. I'm looking for a new wife. Will go with a Russian model, probably. I'd love to try one out, they're getting good reviews."

Buba makes a slight movement of his head in the direction of Lisa. Mörtel nods.

"May I ask you, Mörtel, as a friend, what you are going to do with Mausi-6 once she becomes a dad broad?" Lisa says. "Trade her in? Sell her for parts? Turn her to scrap metal?"

"Very witty," Mörtel says. "Why don't you find it out by trying?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't qualify," Lisa says. "You see, I'm not Russian. I'm so sorry."

"Ah, she snaps back," Mörtel says. "I like that, it's fun to tame the shrews. This will be great fun for both of us."

"In your dreams," Lisa says.

And my nightmares, Lisa thinks. Honecker is Brad Pitt compared to him.

"My dreams have a tendency to become reality," Mörtel says.

"My boyfriend–" Lisa says.

"Mörtel, I am very sorry," Buba says. "But we should be going."

Mörtel laughs.

"I understand," he says.

He points at Lisa with his cane.

"Call me when you are done with her," Mörtel says.

"Will do," Buba says.

Mörtel tips his top hat and walks away. He swings the cane from one hand to another.

"What was that?" Lisa says to Buba.

He could still be my future father-in-law, Lisa thinks. That's fortunate for him. Otherwise I'd make him envy the victims of the SBU.

"What was what?" Buba says.

They find a free table and sit down.

"Why didn't you stop that geriatric?" Lisa says.

"You know who that 'geriatric' was, don't you?" Buba says.

"Of course I do," Lisa says.

"Then a little gratitude is in order," Buba says. "Don't you think?"

"Gratitude for what?" Lisa says. "For letting that old pervert undress me with his cataract-ridden eyes?"

"For introducing you to one of the most influential entrepreneurs in Austria," Buba says. "Someone who can open lots of doors for you, career-wise."

"I can get a job myself," Lisa says. "By the way, why do you call him 'Mörtel'?"

"It's his nickname. It means 'mortar,'" Buba says. "Because he used to work in construction."

I need to take off before I meet any other "friends" of his, Lisa thinks.

"I understand," Lisa says. "I have to excuse myself, I'd like to go home."

"Don't you want to listen to Conchita Wurst?" Buba says. "This is the highlight of this event."

"No, thanks," Lisa says. "It's not my thing."

"Let's talk a little, then you can leave," Buba says. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

"What is it?" Lisa says.

"Can you tell me about your family?" Buba says. "Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"No, I don't," Lisa says. "My mother lives in Nikolaev."

"Have you considered bringing her here?" Buba says.

"Let's change the subject," Lisa says. "I'm not comfortable talking about this."

There are bad memories and there traumas. Contrary to bad memories, traumas don't fade with time.

When Buba starts talking about Lisa's mother, her trauma is triggered. The fear center of the brain, the amygdala, activates. It makes memories feel as vivid and terrifying as if the remembered event took place here and now.

The part of the brain that usually rationalizes events, the prefrontal cortex, shuts down.

That's why Lisa instantly becomes much less intelligent than she usually is. That's why she relives what happened rather than just remembering it.

Her muscles get tense because trauma is stored not only in the brain, but also in the body. The motor cortex constantly sends signals to the muscles to keep them contracted.

This means even less opportunities for Lisa to calmly detach herself from that bad memory, give herself a hug, and remind herself that a lot of troubled water has flowed under the bridge since then.

Lisa doesn't know any of this.

But she sure as hell feels it when a flashback strikes her like a sniper's bullet–silent, unseen, and devastating.