Babayaga

Will seemed happy to find someone who was even slightly curious about his livelihood. “Well, there are lots of ways they can be effective. For instance, I’ve got a client who likes hitting his customers right between the eyes, as if he’s smacking them in the face with a two-by-four.”

She looked confused. “What is a ‘two-by-four’?”

“Sorry, a beam, a wooden plank. The point is, he likes to be very direct, to the point of being irritating. He’ll write a terrible jingle and play it on the radio nonstop until the listeners completely give up and surrender, run out to the stores, and buy all his products. For him it’s an assault: he works to break down their resistance. Research shows that can get results in the short term, but I don’t think it’s very smart. Now, his latest idea is to use Surrealism to cut through the clutter and—his idea, not mine—to make his customers go insane. I’m not sure that’s so smart either.”

“What do you think works?”

Even though Will had answered this in presentations to clients a hundred times before, it made him blush to answer the question now. “Seduction.”

“You seduce them?” Zoya thought about it for a second and then her eyes brightened. “Yes, I see, so this client of yours believes it is a kind of war, but you think you can win with love. Maybe you’re both right. People can be conquered, certainly, but your idea is more like those pretty women I hear they have put to work in the airplanes now.”

“The stewardesses?”

“Yes,” Zoya said. “You see, it’s not enough of a miracle to be flying high up in the air, even all the way across the entire ocean, that magic isn’t enough, so they put someone pretty and seductive on the plane, now there’s a possibility of sex or romance, a temptation to lure you in. It’s right out of a folktale, a beautiful girl with a fool in a flying ship.”

“Well, I don’t—it’s a little more simple than that,” Will stammered, her mention of sex making his heart skip a beat. “You really only have to show them a bit of a life they admire or desire, a story they want to be a part of, paint them a picture and then invite them into it.”

“Ah, I understand.” She smiled, almost to herself. “So it’s not love, it’s merely a spell. So, then what? Tell me, what happens after these victims of yours buy your product and the spell is broken? When they awaken to find their life is as empty and sad as it was before, only now a little poorer too?”

Will seemed suddenly self-conscious. “Maybe they feel that way, maybe not, depends on the product. But I wouldn’t call them victims. I think—”

“I’m sorry, I am being rude.” She put her hand down onto his leg to reassure him and began to shift the conversation. “I am only trying to understand, your world is so very different from mine.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t get to talk about this stuff much outside of the office.” Will collected himself. “But it’s all boring, really. Tell me about you, where are you from?”

“Russia, a small country town.”

“And what brought you here?”

Now it was Zoya’s turn to shrug. “Oh, I came here for my studies. For school.”

“What do you study?”

“Life, different kinds of life. I was interested in botany and for a long time I investigated various plants.” She refilled their shot glasses. “Insects and bugs too.”

“Bugs?” said Will, his eyes brightening with bemusement. “I have to admit I’ve never been very interested in bugs.”

“Oh, I know a lot about bugs, the ones in the sky, below the earth, in your hair and beneath your skin, even the ones churning now in your stomach. There are so many bugs, but I don’t want to talk about them tonight,” Zoya said. “Let’s try this, we’ll make it fun, you ask me a question about you.” She leaned in closer, she could smell him now. “Go ahead, ask.”

“Okay,” said Will, thinking for a moment. “Why did you say I was lost?”

“Oh, when did I say that?” she said with a wry smile.

“At Oliver’s apartment, when he and I were leaving.”

“Yes, I remember. I didn’t think you heard me. I said it because in the times I’ve met you, you did seem lost, like the autumn leaves that float so uncertainly in the sky. Even when I first saw you on the metro, I noticed it. There was some confusion in your eyes, a need for answers. I don’t think it’s a feeling you’re used to.”

Will sat back in his chair and looked at her, wondering how she saw so much. Finally he said, “You’re right. I’m not used to it.”

She smiled. “Well, too much certainty is never wise. You must always be ready for the chaos, bend with it like a tree in the wind. That is how you survive.” She poured him another shot. “You know, in Russia if you open a bottle it’s bad luck not to drink it all.”

“The whole thing?” He took the shot and slammed the glass down, feeling light-headed.

“Come.” She refilled the glass. “Drink more.”

“Wait, wait, there’s also the other thing you said.”

“When was this?” she took the shot. Her eyes grew wide as the liquor went down, and then she smiled.

“Back at Oliver’s, you told me you had the answers. That’s what you said. What did you mean?”