Free Collective Mind by Vasily Klyukin Page A

Isaac caught himself thinking that
if Abdul did get into the national team, his advertising contracts were as good
as guaranteed. Tall, six feet two, broad-shouldered, white-toothed and with a
massively wide smile. His ordinary gray t-shirt looked so good on him that
Isaac felt the urge to buy one for himself.
    “You
know Isaac, maybe I’ll regret this later, but ’m going to pass. I’ve slaved too
hard to get where I am, spilling sweat by the bucketful in the gym. I’m just a
step away from my goal and the doors of the national team are open to me. I’m
not exactly against helping you somehow, but you haven’t even got a simple
plan, just bare ideas. Sorry bro, but I can’t. I’ve got two younger brothers, a
father, a mom and an uncle and I’m their only hope. You get on with it. You
know where to find me, when you have something more specific and then I’ll think
about it. But I’ve got no time for sitting at home and looking for a needle in
a bundle of hay, I train two or three times a day. I won’t tell anyone about
our conversation, but as for joining up – I pass. No hard feelings?”
    Isaac
was upset. He liked Abdul. He was not angry with him. If it’s no, it's no, but
he made a mental note that he had to show up with a more concrete plan. If
people had specific goals in their lives and were grafting hard for them, they
wouldn’t dive headfirst into a whirlpool for a bare idea. He had to keep that
in mind.
    “Of
course it’s okay and thanks for keeping it quiet. I’ve only just begun and I’ll
find allies sooner or later. If not today, then tomorrow.”
    Isaac
paid for the water, said goodbye to Abdul and set off home. He needed to rest
for a while. There was another candidate waiting for him in the evening.

Chapter five
     
    The
door of the bar swung open and out spilled a colorful pair, both pretty loaded:
a husky guy in a bandana and a big, bearded lanky hunk. They were talking so
loud that Isaac could hear from twenty-feet away.
     “Now
that’s what I call a real bike!” said the hunk.
    “You
bet…. none of your modern garbage. This is a classic!”
    “Is
that a Harley Sportster?”
    “Yep!
And not just a Sportster... This is my bro! Even born the same year as me!”
    “Okay,
cheers, Bikie. See you in a week or two. Going to Trieste tomorrow and from
there to Prague, but the Friday after that I’ll be back here.”
    “Ciao,
buddy! Smooth riding and no stones on the road.”
    Isaac
already knew that Bikie’s shift in the bar was due to end shortly. He had read
a lot about this guy and didn’t want trouble, so he addressed him in a familiar
tone.
    “Bikie
the Biker… that does sound funny.”
    Bikie
swung аround and looked Isaac up and down. “What issue do you have with your
face?” he said menacingly. And, after a pause, added, “We can fix that right
now. Now what were you saying?”
    He
leaned down bringing his ear close to Isaac’s face. His stubble almost touched
Isaac’s nose, the reek of alcohol was abominable. Isaac recoiled, realizing he
had clearly overdone it with a sassy approach. Getting a punch in the face
wasn’t quite what he was looking for.
    “No,
chill dude, it was just a bad joke.”
    “A
joke? There’s a trauma wing for jokers in the hospital.”
    “Sorry.
Why don’t we just forget about it, and I’ll buy you a beer?”
    “Not
one of those queers are you?”
    “Hey-hey,
don’t you forget about that trauma unit for jokers.”
    “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Bikie guffawed. “Attaboy, I like you. Just don’t forget that the last guy who
joked with me went broke with his dentist’s bill. Okay, let’s have a beer, as
long as you are paying.”
    Isaac
and Bikie walked into the bar. Everyone here knew Bikie and many of the
customers came over to hug him and slap him on the shoulder.
    The
shaggy gaunt barman chuckled behind the counter.
    “Back
to work? Who’s this with you?”
    “My
beer. A special import, from the land of fools.”Bikie