“Wait a minute, Kostylkov,” the geography teacher said with a smile. “No one has asked you to tell us of the ancients’ views on Asia’s geography. We’d like you to tell us the modern, scientific facts about India .”
Oh, how happy Volka would have been to display his knowledge of the subject! But what could he do if he was no longer the master of his speech and actions! In agreeing to have Hottabych prompt him, he became a toy in the old man’s well-meaning but ignorant hands. He wanted to tell his teachers that what he had told them obviously had nothing to do with modern science. But Hottabych on the other side of the wall shrugged in dismay and shook his head, and Volka, standing in front of the class, was compelled to do the same.
“That which I have had the honour of telling you, O greatly respected Varvara Stepanovna, is based on the most reliable sources, and there exist no other, more scientific facts on India than those I have just, with your permission, revealed to you.”
“Please keep to the subject. This is an examination, not a masquerade. If you don’t know the answers, it would be much more honourable to admit it right away. What was it you said about the Earth’s disc by the way? Don’t you know that the Earth is round?”
Did Volka Kostylkov, an active member of the Moscow Planetarium’s Astronomy Club, know that the Earth was round? Why, any first-grader knew that. But Hottabych, standing behind the wall, burst out laughing, and no matter how our poor boy tried to press his lips together, a haughty smirk escaped him:
“I presume you are making fun of your most devoted pupil! If the Earth were round, the water would run off it, and then everyone would die of thirst and all the plants would dry up. The Earth, O most noble and honoured of all teachers and pedagogues, has always had and does now have the shape of a flat disc, surrounded on all sides by a mighty river named ‘Ocean.’ The Earth rests on six elephants, and they, in turn, are standing on a tremendous turtle. That is how the world is made, O teacher!”
The board of teachers gazed at Volka with rising surprise. He broke out in a cold sweat from horror and the realization of his own complete helplessness. The other children could not quite understand what had happened to their friend, but some began to giggle. It was really funny to hear about a country of bald people, about a country filled with feathers, about gold-bearing ants as big as dogs and about the flat Earth resting on six elephants and a turtle. As for Zhenya Bogorad, Volka’s best friend and one of the class pioneer leaders, he became really worried. He knew that Volka, as chairman of the Astronomy Club, at least knew that the Earth was round — if he knew nothing else. Could it be that he had suddenly decided upon some mischief, and during an examination, of all times! Volka was probably ill, but what ailed him? What kind of a strange, unusual disease did he have? And then, it was very bad for their pioneer group. So far, they had been first in all the exams, but now Volka’s stupid answers would spoil everything, though he was usually a disciplined pioneer! Goga Pilukin, a most unpleasant boy at the next desk (nicknamed “Pill” by his classmates), hastened to pour salt on Zhenya’s fresh wounds.
“That takes care of your group, Zhenya dear,” he whispered with a malicious giggle. “You’re sinking fast!” Zhenya shook his fist at Pill.
“Varvara Stepanovna!” Goga whined. “Bogorad just shook his fist at me.”
“Sit still and don’t tattle,” Varvara Stepanovna said and turned back to Volka, who stood before her more dead than alive. “Were you serious about the elephants and the turtle?” “More serious than ever before, O most respected of all teachers,” Volka repeated after the old man and felt himself burning up with shame.
“And haven’t you anything else to add? Do you really think you were answering the question?”
“No, I’ve nothing to add,” Hottabych said behind the wall, shaking his head.
And Volka, helpless to withstand the force that was pushing him towards failure, also shook his head and said, “No, I’ve nothing to add. Perhaps, however, the fact that in the wealthy land of India the horizons are framed by gold and pearls.”
“It’s incredible!” his teacher exclaimed.
It was difficult to believe that Kostylkov, a usually disciplined boy, had suddenly decided to play a silly joke on his teachers (and at such an important time!), running the risk of a second examination in the autumn.
“I don’t think the boy is quite well,” Varvara Stepanovna whispered to the principal.
Glancing hurriedly and sympathetically at Volka, who stood numb with grief before them, the committee held a whispered conference.
Varvara Stepanovna suggested, “What if we ask the child another question, just to calm him? Say, from last year’s book. Last year he got an ‘A’ in geography.”
The others agreed, and Varvara Stepanovna once again turned to the unhappy boy.
“Now, Kostylkov, wipe your tears and don’t be nervous. Tell us what a horizon is.”
“A horizon?” Volka said with new hope. “That’s easy. A horizon is an imagined line which…”
But Hottabych came to life behind the wall again and Volka once again became the victim of prompting.
“The horizon, O my most revered one,” Volka corrected himself, “I would call the horizon that brink, where the crystal cupola of the Heavens touches the edge of the Earth.”
“It gets worse as he goes on,” Varvara Stepanovna moaned. “How would you have us understand your words about the crystal cupola of the Heavens — literally or figuratively?”
“Literally, O teacher,” Hottabych prompted from the next room.
And Volka was obliged to repeat after him, “Literally, O teacher.”
“Figuratively!” someone hissed from the back of the room. But Volka repeated, “Naturally, in the literal sense and no other.”
“What does that mean?” Varvara Stepanovna asked, still not believing her ears. “Does that mean you consider the sky to be a solid cupola?”
“Yes.”
“And does it mean there’s a place where the Earth ends?”
“Yes, there is, O my most highly respected teacher.”
Behind the wall Hottabych nodded approvingly and rubbed his hands together smugly.
A strange silence fell on the class. Even those who were always ready to laugh stopped smiling. Something was definitely wrong with Volka. Varvara Stepanovna rose and felt his forehead anxiously. He did not have a fever.
But Hottabych was really touched by this. He bowed low and touched his forehead and chest in the Eastern manner and then began to whisper. Volka, driven by the same awful force, repeated his movements exactly.
“I thank you, O most gracious daughter of Stepan! I thank you for your trouble. But it is unnecessary, because, praised be Allah, I am quite well.”
All this sounded extremely strange and funny. However, the other children were so worried about Volka that not a shade of a smile crossed a single face. Varvara Stepanovna took him by the hand, led him out of the room, and patted his lowered head.
“Never mind, Kostylkov. Don’t worry. You’re probably overtired. Come back when you’ve had a good rest. All right?”
“All right,” Volka said. “But upon my word of honour, Varvara Stepanovna, it’s not my fault! It isn’t really!”
“Why, I’m not blaming you at all,” the teacher answered kindly. “I’ll tell you what: let’s drop in on Pyotr Ivanych.”
Pyotr Ivanych, the school doctor, examined Volka for all of ten minutes. He made him close his eyes and hold his arms out before him with his fingers spread apart; then he tapped his knee and drew lines on his chest and back with his stethoscope.