“I’m not lying, I wrote it myself. I didn’t even know I would write it. I just sat down and wrote it. I think I did a good job, didn’t I?”

Her mother did not opine on the quality of the work. She threw a piercing glance and began to smoke, breaking matches energetically.

“Who told you about this?”

“Leonid Sergeevich Lyuberetskiy.”

“A self-reflecting intellectual!” Her mother laughed shortly. “What other prattle did he pour into your ears?”

“Nothing. I mean, he said things, of course. About justice, about…”

“So.” Her mother turned sharply, her eyes flashed with a familiar cold fire. “You did not write this article and will not write it in the future. Ever.”

“But that’s unjust…”

“What is just is only what is useful to society. Only this is just, remember that!”

“What about human beings? A person in general?”

“There is no person in general. No! There’s a citizen who is obligated to believe. To believe!”

She turned away, and scratched nervously at the matchbox with a match, not noticing that the cigarette clutched in her teeth was already smoking away.