This is innovation!

Story by Artavazd Yeghiazaryan
Translated by Nazareth Seferian
Illustration by William Karapetyan
In cooperation with the European Union Delegation to Armenia

Armine knew that her relationship with Hakobyan was unreasonable and unpromising, by all possible measures. That their romance (if you could use that word for regularly meeting in the evenings after work over three weeks) would be considered by her friends to be as improbable and, to put it mildly, weird, as Anahit’s decision had been two months ago to leave a good job in Yerevan and go to Gavar to work in women’s rights. And here she was, in Gyumri, where she had come to teach children about media literacy, sneaking out every evening to see Grisha Hakobyan and walk with him along the old streets of the old town. She would sometimes even go over to the house of this Mr. Hakobyan, a serious man who wore a suit to work. At times, she would invite him for a cup of tea to the place she rented. And this was all very weird because they were from such different worlds, they such had contrasting social circles and pasts, that there really should have been nothing holding them together.

All of this ran through Armine’s mind during the five seconds while their kiss was gathering momentum in that dark building entrance. Armine was leaning against the wall and, if the words were true of that unknown European philosopher who had said “Soul meet soul on lovers’ lips,” then her soul and Hakobyan’s had not just met, they had locked together in a passionate kiss of their own. Armine forgot everything once again, leaned her head back and felt how the kisses of the man in the suit moved to her neck, where she had a tattoo of a vintage nineteeth-century hot air balloon. She ran her fingers through Hakobyan’s cropped and considerably greying hair.

“Damn it, what am I doing?”

The meeting of the souls ended very abruptly. Armine was the one who had called it off.

“I have a lot of work to do,” Armine announced, gently pushing him back with her hands, “I have to read twenty-six assignments before morning.”

“You only think about the kids… what about me?” Hakobyan complained in mock offense, “I have a bottle of wine with me, and the night is still very young…”

“You can’t bribe me out of this one,” Armine smiled, although she would not have minded continuing the evening with wine.

“Hah! Anyone can be talked into taking a bribe, believe me,” Hakobyan retorted in a knowing voice.

“I will strive to defeat your attempts at bribery as part of the larger operation to eliminate corruption,” Armine said, taking out her keys from her bag.

“The attempts to eliminate corruption are a myth, because you can’t go against human nature.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, Mr. Hakobyan,” Armine said, kissing the man quietly and then walking to her door, “I’ll drop you a message tomorrow.”

***

When the amazing woman from Yerevan with the hot air balloon tattoo disappeared behind her door, Grisha Hakobyan sighed and lit a cigarette. The bottle of wine stuck out of the bag slung from his shoulder. Hakobyan looked at the closed door, then the top of the bottle and said, “Too bad.” And he left the building, continuing to smoke. His car was parked a few steps away. But he did not manage to take those few steps — a pair of strong arms that unexpectedly appeared in the dark suddenly grabbed his jacket collar and pushed him (“slapped him” is a more accurate way of putting it) against the building wall. Before Hakobyan could ask any questions, a third arm, ending in a fist, landed on his 43-year-old cheek. The cigarette dropped to the floor and its red flame flickered on the ground for the last time. Hakobyan was plunged into darkness as he tried to move and break free of these strangers, or at least understand what was happening, but he heard the sound of shattering glass, and when he opened his eyes, he felt the jagged edges of what remained of his wine bottle pressed against his neck. Then he heard a voice say, “Your friends wanted to remind you one more time that they have fulfilled their part of the deal a long time ago, but there have been delays at your end and you’re often unreachable by phone.”

“Get off me for a second and explain yourself…” Hakobyan tried to sound confident and angry but came off scared and timid.

“Here’s the explanation — don’t try to swindle your friends. Otherwise, the next time we come, we won’t wait for you to kiss your professor girlfriend from Yerevan good night. Or maybe we’ll just barge into your sister’s house at some point.”

Hakobyan grew angry and tried to move. The unknown hands let him go and the next thing he heard came from a few steps away, “The contracts must be on my desk in a week. Either that, or you return every last penny.”

As the distant steps shuffled further away, Hakobyan sat down on the sidewalk and grabbed his head in both hands.

***

The alarm blared at three past seven, like it did on every working day. And, like every working day, Lusine was already awake before the alarm had blared. First, she looked away from the sun that had slipped through the window with the old wooden frame and the transparent curtain that covered it. Then she used her palm to brush away a bunch of short, black hair from her forehead and then silenced the phone with the same hand, using a move that had long become automated through habit. She sighed, slipped out of the living room couch that served as a bed and went to wash her face.

Ten minutes later, when the coffee was already boiling in a pot on the old gas range, she called out to her son, who had been sleeping in the only bedroom in the house. There was no response. She tried again.

“Davo, get up! You’ll be late for school. Dav?”

Half an hour later, the two of them — 34-year-old Lusine and 13-year-old Davit — were having breakfast. The latter was rushing through a two-egg omelette, eating it right off the frying pan because there was no time to do it any other way. Lusine was slowly slurping her black coffee, which was bitter (“Like life,” as she often repeated) with the water well boiled to avoid any foam. This scene had repeated itself every day for the past four years. Four years ago, Lusine’s husband had been killed in Tolyatti by his semi-criminal business associates (“Why do you insist on working with them, I kept asking him”), thus putting an abrupt end to that strange chapter of his life of migrant labor in Russia. She took Davo and returned without much thought to Gyumri, where she had not been for ten years. Luckily, her brother still lived there and was a state official, so he helped them at first, until they managed to get by on their own.

During that period, Lusine’s mother passed away, a few years after her father had died. That was how their ancestral home, which had been miraculously spared by the 1988 earthquake, ended up becoming the center of the action in their new life. As soon as she had completed her third decade on planet earth, Lusine decided that there was no time for self-pity. After a sad and hopeless thirtieth birthday that she spent with a night of semi-solitude, Lusine had sat down by herself in the kitchen after Davo had gone to sleep and slowly sipped her coffee. Then she spotted her own reflection on the shiny surface of the steel teapot and promised that reflection that she would stop feeling sorry for herself from that moment onward and would simply start to live, however it turned out. “Everyone can do it, why shouldn’t you be able to?” she said with some indignation to her reflection. She poured out the rest of her tasteless coffee in anger and went to bed, waking up the following morning with no sense of self-pity.

“Mom, I’ll be home late today, I have a class at TUMO,” Davo said as he picked up his schoolbag, still chewing on some bread and omelette.

“Okay. If you see Armish, tell her to wait for me downstairs so that we can have coffee together during the break.” The door swung shut just as Davo’s “okay” was heard in reply.

Five minutes later, Lusine left the house as well, she had to be at the beauty salon at nine o’clock. She’d be in for a few unpleasant words if she was late. Zurnachyan, the owner (“lord” would be a better word) of the beauty salon seemed to have it in for Lusine for a while now.

She got a phone call from her brother on the way. Grisha’s voice was suspiciously tense, it was usually hard to imagine anyone more cheerful and confident than him. He was saying something about how it would be good for Lusine and Davo to go to Yerevan for a while, he would make all the arrangements, including even a job at a beauty salon he knew there. But Lusine said that she could not talk right now, it would be better to get together in the evening when there was more time. After ending the call, she felt surprised once again at her brother’s strange behaviour and scoffed to herself, “Me, leave Gyumri? Yeah, right!”

Out of the corner of one eye she spotted two strange men on her street, not far from the building etrance, but she did not pay them much attention.

***

Armine had been teaching at TUMO for two days, basking in her freedom and promoting “what matters is you” as her central credo. After her previous job in semi-confinement and misery as a journalist, this was a real miracle. And working with children was extremely pleasant because, in contrast to her previous employer that had a readership of eleven-and-a-half people, she could really see the results of her work here — all the bright-eyed children. This was all particularly moving and palpable outside Yerevan — at the Stepanakert, Dilijan and Gyumri branches, because everyone outside Yerevan — and children in particular — have very little opportunity to engage in fun activities. And so, Armine had come on yet another trip to Gyumri. Ten days had gone by, and another three weeks still lay ahead. She would finish her tea now, then post a very instagrammable photograph of one of Gyumri’s pretty and cosy corners to Instagram and rush off to the Gyumri Technology Centre, where the bright-eyed teenagers were already waiting for her on the upper floor. Thirteen-year old Davo was among them. The essay topic they had been assigned the previous week was “Life Stories from Gyumri” and he had written about corruption in education.

“Davit, hold on, I wanted to talk to you about something. Your essay was really good, but… um… the topic of bribery… Why did you decide to write about corruption?”

“Oh, that? To be honest, we’re making a game here with the animation team about corruption. It’s a project supported by the European Union, I’m in the content team. I wanted to do more work around that topic. You didn’t find it interesting?”

In reality, it had been very interesting. But Armine had suspected that the anonymous narrator of the story had been Davit’s uncle, who worked at the procurement department of the university and was well aware of everything — the pricelist for admissions, various nuances that were associated with allocating scholarships, different approaches to passing the mid-term exams and so on. Her assumptions were based on her own intimate relationship with Davit’s uncle.

“It was interesting, but because it’s very off-topic for what we’re doing here, I’d like you to focus on another central character — someone more positive. Talk to your mother, for example.”

“Okay… Oh, by the way, my mom’s going to come see you at the next break.”

***

Lusine was tending to her third customer. She was the quietest of those who worked at the beauty salon — such a lack of respect for tradition and the stereotypes that came with this profession! But there was so much noise that her silence went unnoticed, and her customers had no problem talking to the others. Lusine would hear isolated fragments of several crossfiring conversations.

“My daughter’s hung up on the idea of getting a master’s degree. I’m telling her, ‘Listen, girl, wouldn’t it be better for a boy to get that university spot? At least he won’t have to go to the army then. Why do you need a master’s…’”

“I’m going to a wedding this evening, everyone. What kind of hair style would look good?”

“I’m tired of highlighting…”

“Well, if things stay this way then it won’t be that bad. I mean, we’re getting by…”

Close to noon, she finally had the chance to take a break. Lusine had already grabbed her bag to step outside the beauty salon when Zurnachyan blocked her path.

“Where are you going?” the director asked, his eyebrows arched.

“I’m supposed to work only half the day today. I have to go somewhere. I’d told you a couple of days ago.”

“Who cares what you said? Does that mean you can leave your customers and go?”

“I’ve already served four customers today,” Lusine retorted, “Nobody else has an appointment with me today. I’ve got a class…”

“What class? You think you can learn something new at this age?”

“Well, I’m trying. Why wouldn’t I?”

Zurnachyan scanned Lusine from head to toe.

“You’re only fooling yourself, although you seem to be a smart girl.”

Lusine did not respond, but she threw a glance at her watch to hint that she was running late.

“Well, if you’ve made up your mind to study, you can go. But my advice to you…” Zurnachyan stopped, as if searching for the right words, “Come with me for a drink tomorrow and we’ll talk, I’ll tell you what I mean. Hm?”

“I really don’t have time, Mr. Zurnachyan. There’s work, class, my son… I have to go now, goodbye.”

Zurnachyan was left stading there as Lusine departed, staring at her feet as she walked around the director who had just made her a thinly veiled proposition. Her next stop would be the Gyumri Technology Centre.

Half an hour later, she had cast away all thoughts of scissors, combs, highlights and other pieces of hairdresser’s wisdom. Lusine had been absorbed by one thing — digital technology. Web development, to be specific. PHP, to be more specific. Three letters that some time ago would have meant nothing to Lusine when put together. But today they gave her hope that in the not-so-distant future she would be able to switch careers to a field that was modern, progressive and in high demand. “All that remains is to get this done,” Lusine replied to herself in her mind.

“This” had been knocking at her door for a while now. Lusine had already been studying programming and web development for five months at the Gyumri Technology Center. Completely free. The European Union and Microsoft had decided to help women in the Shirak region learn a new profession. Lusine had not passed up the opportunity.

During her breaks, she would walk with Armine to the other side of the square and drink coffee in the park opposite the currently abandoned building of the drama theatre. She would sometimes tell her friend, who had come from Yerevan for a month, about how she would come here with her parents when she had been little. At the theatre, she could forget about the difficulties of life and the ruins in which her city lay. Now, she was able to forget just about the same things when she sat at a computer, drowning herself in endless code. She was studying with three other women in one group — one was a doctor, the other two women had never worked in their lives. And now, they were already making plans for the future — perhaps they would open a small company of their own, rent an office in this very building and make websites. And Lusine would finally be free of the beauty salon.

Armine and Lusine sat at the stairs beneath the theatre entrance, under the arch. Each of them held a cup of coffee. Armine was staring at the sneakers below her long skirt and wondering whether it was finally the right time to tell her friend, whom she had first met during her previous visit to Gyurmi, that she was dating her brother and things seemed to be getting serious. But before she could think any further about this, Lusine breached the topic. Armine made a mental note that she did not seem angry. She was saying that she was happy for both of them, but also a bit concerned for Armine, because Hakobyan had never managed to have a long or serious relationship after his divorce.

“Well… if that’s how it’s been so far, perhaps this one will be a lovely story with a happy ending in a lovely city,” Armine said, more to herself than to her friend.

“Also, I don’t know what’s going on, but Grish seems to have some problems,” Lusine said, this time with more tension in her voice, “The kind of people he has been dealing with all these years were bound to cause problems sooner or later.”

Armine tried to change the subject.

“Are your classes going well? Are you a coding superstar already?”

“I don’t really know how much I’ve learned, but I’ve got this feeling inside that I’m ready to take the jump. It’s such a great feeling — it means being able to stay Gyumri, but with less of a gap between you and the rest of the world. I would probably go to Europe if not for this opportunity. And here’s Europe, helping me stay here instead.”

They both laughed. Armine checked her phone — Hakobyan had not responded to several of her calls and texts. Perhaps he really was busy with work, she thought, and recalled that she had to return to Yerevan in a week.

***

Hakobyan was sitting in his office. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his latest cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. Everything had come crashing down. His years of work were losing their meaning. He would lose everything now. Hakobyan was a modest man, and had always been that way. Taking bribes? Well… no, but then why had he agreed to this particular deal? It was not for his own personal gain, but rather to help something good happen for the city. If it also meant that a few people profited, then why not? There would be something for him in the end as well. What mattered was to not overdo things, to not draw attention upon yourself and get the job done, instead of trying to squeeze out every last penny and just pretend to show results, like some people did.

But something had gone wrong. Several things. The investor turned out to be a savage. It had turned out impossible to make progress on this task. But that was not the biggest problem. Hakobyan was a gambler. Until recently, he had managed to control his impulses. But last month… Something had gone wrong. And then everything had fallen apart. And the people who were supposed to push the contract forward had also failed to come through.

And with all this going on, his nephew had declared a few days ago that he was building an anti-corruption game during his lessons at TUMO featuring witches, adventures and who knows what else. “Hmph! The poor child thinks this is all a game.” And he did not mind telling Davo what he had said to Armine the previous evening (who had also just come from TUMO) — you cannot defeat corruption because you cannot go against human nature.

“You’re simply shifting the blame for what you’ve done, and holding humanity responsible,” a stunned, angered and confused Lusine said to him that same evening after Grisha had explained why it would be best for his sister and nephew to go to Yerevan for a while.

“Do you think the others do things any differently, or that whoever comes after me will not do the same?” Hakobyan continued, although he was no longer as confident. He was seated near the kitchen table, Lusine paced to and fro nervously.

“I don’t care about the others, don’t change the subject…”

“Come on, just go away for two or three months while I sort things out here. I always manage to sort things out.”

“No, Grish. I’ve come to Gyumri and I’m going to stay in Gyumri. I’ve dedicated half my time in Gyumri to training for a decent profession, so that I can stay here, work and make a living, so that I don’t constantly think of Yerevan-Rostov-Los Angeles, and so that I don’t wonder when I’ll have to send my son from here to somewhere far away. No. Enough.”

Grisha simply shook his head and picked up his phone, clicking on the app store to find and download the anti-corruption game.

“What was that game called, the one that Davo helped create?” He asked without lifting his eyes from the phone.

“Tales of Neto,” Lusine glanced at her brother, “Yes, download it and play, you might get a better understanding of why it’s such a bad thing and not just a part of human nature.”

She finally found the pack she had kept hidden away and took out a cigarette with trembling hands. When she lit it, she heard her brother’s strict voice, reminding her of her childhood when Grish had always taken on the role of the strict elder brother,

“Put that thing away at once.”

Lusine stared at her brother and realised that returning the cigarette without smoking it would mean giving in, and she had decided to no longer give in.

“How much money do you need to return?” she asked her brother.

“Lus…”

“How much?”

Hakobyan stared at the ground like a guilty child. Lusine continued the interrogation.

“Do you have to sell the car?”

“I’ve already sold it.”

“Oh God… how much more do you need?”

Silence.

“Grish, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll find a way out…”

“How?”

Silence.

“This house is the only thing that remains, isn’t it? The only property you have left is our ancestral home?”

The computer on the kitchen table beeped. If Lusine had looked at the screen, she would have seen that the email she just received had “Partnership proposal” in the subject line. The digital solutions company that had not yet been formally registered by the four women from Shirak had just received its first real contract. This would have been wonderful news any other day. But at that moment, Lusine was waiting for her brother’s response.

“Do we have to sell this place?” the future computer professional whispered.

Silence.

***

Armine walked into the building. She was coming home after an evening lesson, when the figure of a man suddenly appeared in the darkness. Armine walked back, holding her breath, but felt two heavy hands on her shoulders a moment later.

“It’s just me… it’s me… I didn’t know when you were coming back.”

Hakobyan’s voice was trembling, and the face that finally came out into the light seemed to be in despair. Nevertheless, Armine exhaled with relief and hugged him.

“You scared me,” she confessed, “Come in for some tea, you seem to have been waiting a while.”

“Have you packed already?” Hakobyan suddenly asked when they had walked in.

“No, why would I? I’m going to Yerevan next week, so I haven’t even started…”

“Pack up and we’ll go together,” Hakobyan looked at Armine with shimmering and slightly crazed eyes, “Moscow, or Paris. We could go to New York, wouldn’t you like to work at a normal media company in New York? We’d need visas though, Moscow is a safer bet. Perhaps Buenos Aires…”

“Grish, please sit down and have a cup of tea with me, and then you can give me a normal explanation about what’s going on. I don’t understand any of this.”

Armine gently pushed Hakobyan and he sat down on the couch.

“Nothing’s going on… in particular,” Hakobyan avoided Armine’s gaze but the enthusiasm in this voice dropped considerably. “I need to leave, that’s all, very urgently, and I thought perhaps we could leave together. What’s wrong with that?”

“Why do you have to leave so urgently?” Armine asked patiently.

“Because I’ve been part of a corruption scheme, then gambled the money away, and ended up in a deep hole, and I just need to get up and leave. Ah yes, I’ve also sold my parents’ house to cover my debts, but now I feel like it’s better that the two of us start a new life together.”

Armine slowly sat down on the other couch, unable to close the mouth that had dropepd open in surprise. But Hakobyan once again grew in enthusiasm and stood up to demonstrate the practical side.

“This is really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Come with me. I’ve already booked tickets. Both Moscow and New York, so that you can choose where you want to go.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen, so that I can get the tea ready. We have a lot to talk about tonight,” Armine got up as well. She had the most complicated mission of sobering her friend up.

They sat and talked till six in the moring. Hakobyan threatened on three occasions to get up and leave for a random destination, and once was so overcome with tension that he slammed his fist into the kitchen cupboard. He explained for close to two hours that he had not been the one to blame — that it was the state of the country that had forced him to make these choices. At around four in the morning, he mentioned Tales of Neto, saying that it was a great game and that “it was good for kids to play it and learn.” At five o’clock, the darkest hour before dawn, Hakobyan finally agreed with Armine that he could not escape the situation and needed to find a solution here and now. At six, he whispered, “I’ll pay back the debts and go to the police.” Armine held Hakobyan’s head tenderly in both hands and said, “Let’s sleep for a couple of hours and then you’ll start taking action.”

That same morning started for Lusine with the sound of breaking glass. When she ran into the kitchen, she saw a large brick on the floor and emptiness where the window used to be. That evening, she found her brother at the hospital with several fractures and bruises — they had caught him as he was leaving Armine’s apartment. Lusine was forced to postpone the Skype call with her American customers and the registration of her startup. The following day was one of chaos and confusion. So much so that Lusine did not even have the chance to say goodbye to Armine, who returned to Yerevan.

On the way from Gyumri to Yerevan, Armine sent Lusine a text — “Stay strong, everything’s going to be all right.”

***

Four months later, Armine came to Gyumri for yet another month. Her first day at work, before going up to TUMO, she stopped at a door on the second floor that said WoG Tech on the door; she knocked and entered. Lusine had managed to register the company in the past month, rent the space and set up a real startup environment. There were five tables that were occuped by newly-minted web developers — the former doctor, hairdresser and unemployed women — busily working on their first big project (based on the sketches on the blackboard, Armine assumed that it was a website for a company making children’s clothing). Lusine jumped up and embraced her friend. A few minutes later, they were having coffee in the theater park.

“So tell me everything,” Armine said, slurping her coffee.

“This is a new life — with all the good and bad things that come with it,” Lusine confessed with a smile, “It’s difficult, there’s a lot of responsibility, and it’s sometimes scary, but the independence I have… that we have as a team, that’s worth it all.”

“It’s so good that you didn’t stop until you made it, bravo! Is Davo happy with life? I didn’t see him today.”

“Yes, he’s very interested in what we’re doing. After Neto, he doesn’t know whether he wants to be a game developer or an investigative journalist that exposes corruption cases.”

“What about…” Armine stopped herself for a month, then continued, “…Grish?”

“He managed to somehow pay back his debts with the money from selling the house, then he ended his involvement in those things… He’s looking for a job, I’m thinking of maybe bringing him over to the tech sector as well.”

They were silent for a while, then Lusine concluded.

“We’re renting a place now, but at least I’m more at ease with what the future will bring. The rest is not such a big deal.”

Armine had to run to her next class, Lusine had a Skype call with a German client. They walked back.