The young Cyberspecialist by thadeusz

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My name is Anton, Anton Todarevski and I am a British citizen.
Or at least I was convinced of all that until recently.

My parents, Piotr and Marina Todarevski were born in Russia and were Russian citizens. They did not like the situation there and escaped in 1991 during the "incidents" which occurred in their home country. They went to the UK as refugees and became British citizens as soon as they could. My father worked here as a mechanic, and he was a good mechanic. My mother remained at home and learned very little English, contrary to my father who rapidly became a fluent English speaker, but with a strong Russian accent.

I was born in December 1991 and I was probably conceived in Russia. My parents still spoke Russian and I thus learned to speak Russian and English simultaneously.

At school, I was brilliant. When I got my diploma, I also got a scholarship to go to University and study Computer Sciences. I specialized in Cyberdefense and graduated as a new "Cyberspecialist".

I decided then to go for a long vacation in my parents’ birth country. The year was 2013. I asked for a visa which I got without problem on the basis of my British passport. I had of course to mention the nature of my diploma and the place where I wanted to visit. It was Ekaterinenbourg, just west of the Ural mountains, the town where my parents had lived before coming to England.

I went to the former town of my parents and visited it in great detail: I assumed that I would never again be allowed to come back. I did not notice that I was observed by the local police.

I was arrested simply because I was a foreigner who was speaking fluent Russian. The police brought me to the local prison where all my clothes were confiscated. Instead of these clothes I received a blue prison uniform: blue trousers with an elastic belt and a white ribbon along each leg to make it more visible, a blue vest with a large white ribbon across the chest, blue clogs but no socks. On top of it, there was a white name tag with my name on it (in cyrillic) sewn where my right breast pocket should have been and another one, identical, where my left hip pocket should have been. There were no pockets but there was a blue cap to be worn outside. I was told that I had to take that cap off and hold it in my right hand whenever a guard was speaking to me.

My head had been brutally shorn to the woods, but by an inapt barber who left tufts of hair protruding. It had been done in an unpleasant way, but it didn't hurt me too much.

Finally, I received what they considered as the necessary bedding and I was locked in a cell where there was just one plank left for me to sleep. I was told that I had to share that cell with four other inmates.

I wanted to see a representative of my embassy, but I was told that in my case the only possible embassy was that of the Russian government. I objected saying that I was a British citizen, but they showed me a copy of a birth certificate I had never seen before: according to that document I was born in Ekaterinbourg, just before my parents fled outside Russia. Moreover, according to their document, my first name was not Anton but Alyocha. I tried all possible ways to convince them that this document was a fake, but to no avail. They also decided that I should be flogged for my bad behavior: a traitor (that’s how they called me) should accept his fate and not try to contest it. My new clothes were taken away and I was attached to a bar while other prisoners were gathered to look at the example. I got 10 of the whip, and the guard who administered this punishment was a strong guy who placed all his might in punishing me.

I chose to accept this new life provisionally, in order not to be whipped in the near future. I knew something had to happen to free me: my parents would certainly try to agitate some bells since they did not receive any letter any more, a representative of my consulate would arrive and free me, or I did not know what, but something was doomed to happen in my favor.

In fact, what came first was a trial. I was accused of spying and placed in a glass cage for the duration of my trial. I replied, in perfect Russian and wearing a prisoner’s uniform, that I was not a spy but a tourist.
The Judge asked me: "How come you speak Russian so well ?"
I tried to explain: "My parents came from Ekaterinbourg. I have possibly been conceived here but I was born in London, Great Britain. I have always lived in Great Britain where I have studied at school and later at the University in order to become a cyberdefense specialist."
"That does not explain why you speak Russian so well."
"My parents spoke Russian with me. I learned English at Kindergarten."
The Judge thought silently during a few minutes, then discussed discretely with his associates and finally he said:
"Your parents were Russians and left their own country, illegally, in 1991."
"Your Honor, you cannot punish me for a crime committed by my parents more than 20 years ago."
"No, but you were born in 1991 and conceived in this land, therefore you are also a Russian."
Another silence
"Did you do your military service in Great Britain ?"
"Your Honor, there is no such thing as a compulsory military service in my country."
"Your country is Russia my boy. And here military service is compulsory. Did you know that?"
"No, Your Honor"
"You did not do your military service in Russia, why ?"
"Nobody asked me and anyway I am a British citizen by birth."
"You are wrong my boy, but these Judges are ready to admit that you were ignorant. But now you are no longer ignorant and you must respect the law. If you accept to do your military service now in Russia, things might be better for you. Otherwise, you will stay for 20 years in one of our cells for refusing to accomplish your service to the Nation."

I was sent back to my cell and had a whole day to think things over. I realized that I was cornered and I decided to accept a one year military service. The next day, I was brought back in front of the court and I decided to mention my decision to accept to accomplish the military service they claimed I owed to what they said was my country. I had not realized that by accepting to serve in their Army, now my Army, I had also accepted the Russian nationality and lost forever my British nationality.
I was transported, still in prison uniform but without shackles or handcuffs, to the nearest barrack. There I had to go through what were the usual induction procedures. I was measured, disinfected, shaved to the woods and I received a usual Russian Army uniform.

This uniform was made in very solid material. It was not very comfortable but it was much better than my former prison uniform. Among other things, I now had a uniform belt and webbing for legs. I also had an Army cap which I had to wear whenever I was outside !

I lived now in a big room with 19 other soldiers who were all uneducated local boys. I was the only one who had gone through Highschool and University.

Basic instruction started immediately and was rather rough but bearable for a sportsman like me. My uniform had to be more or less clean: that was not a problem for me since I was drilled into using the available washing machines in College to keep my clothes neat. My room companions did not seem to have the same habit, but that was not my problem. There was one very serious requirement: I had to have a weekly haircut. I no longer had to be shorn to the woods, I simply had to go weekly to the regimental barber and ask him to make sure that my hair remained very short under my cap (or under my fur hat in winter, which was rather cold).

After 9 months of service, when my time was nearly up, I was called in the Colonel’s office. Two guys from the Military Security, two Captains, told me that they now had a copy of my diploma in computer sciences. They told me that they had to ask me some questions. They were really not friendly at all. It started as follows:
"Private Todarevski, what was your diploma about ?"
"Computer sciences in general, Captain."
"Were you not specialized in cyberdefense and cyber attack ? We now have the details from your university !"
"Yes Captain, cyberdefense more than cyberattack," I had to acknowledge that since they had a copy of my diploma.
"In that case, you might want to extend your military duty by 20 years as a cyber scientist for your real motherland !"
This was an affirmation more than a question, but I still replied:
"NO"
"In that case, you will be transferred. You will have to serve 30 years in a military prison with a very strict regime. This would be a Hard Labour Prison, situated far in the coldest part of Siberia. And all that for refusing to obey a direct and legitime order. But, if you accept to re-enlist as suggested, you will be promoted and have facilities."
In order to avoid the prison they had described, I accepted to re-enlist for 20 years.
I was told to take all my things and I was shipped, with handcuffs on my hands and shackles on my feet, to a special garrison near Irkoutsk, close to lake Baïkal.

In fact the place where I landed looked more like a School of Computer Sciences than an ordinary regiment, but a School with a very strict military regime. I remained a Private despite the promises of promotion: promotion was not immediate.

I also received additional pieces of equipment and clothing since the weather was very cold there. My thick trousers were unchanged, but the vest now had a collar as high as my neck. Under that a thick and hot combat t-shirt with a zipper in front. On top of all this, I now had a very hot vest with a hood provided with a sort of fur cap. Finally, I received very hot woolen socks and high black and heavy boots. My head was not forgotten: I had for that part of my body a very ordinary cap and a fur hat: the use of one or the other depended on the orders given which themselves depended on the weather.

Once a week, on Sunday, I had to go and "visit" the regimental barber. This soldier was a huge Corporal who was subject to less restrictions than us, ordinary researchers: he had no research to do and thus not as many "secrets" to respect as we had to !

The first time I visited him, he asked me how I wanted to have my haircut, specifying that it had to be short. He looked at my head and said that it was a nearly perfectly round head and suggested replacing my "to the woods" by a very short high and tight or by a buzz cut more easy to keep.

I asked him if he could make it not too short and he told me that he would make it in such a way that my head would look like a round ball. He told me to sit on his chair and placed a big towel on my vest to protect it. He then started to work on the top of my head where he finally left my hair very short: the whole top looked like the upper part of a ball. The sides were left completely blank. In fact the upper part of my head looked like a ball provided with short spikes.

My next step on this campus consisted in a visit to my new room. I discovered there that I would now live with 9 other soldiers, all of them being Privates. It was not exactly what had been promised but I had to accept it since I was stuck there without a phone and no possibility to write to my family and friends. There were 5 beds on one side, 5 beds on the other side. Between the beds : cupboards which had to be organized in a very specific way. The boots had to be placed below the beds. On the beds, there were folded covers which had to be unfolded every evening. There was also a cushion for each bed. The whole place looked like a prison cell with strong bars at the unique window placed at one end of the cell, sorry the room. But I must admit that the door of the room was not locked, only guarded by a soldier knowing nothing about computers.

In fact we were housed in a big room which I described above. Next to it, there were two rooms: one for showers, washbasins and toilets and the other for washing, ironing and (if needed) mending our uniforms. Both rooms were provided with relatively modern equipment. We, the Privates, were free to move from one of these rooms to another, but it was forbidden to go to another room without being escorted by a guard who in fact gave us the necessary orders.

There was also a huge eating room, which we used for all our meals and which was the only place where we met soldiers from other rooms, I mean from other sections.

Life in these barracks was not unbearable, despite the fact that we had to permanently wear a uniform which had to be crisp: there were strict rules concerning the way we had to wear our uniforms and also about the way we had to salute our superiors (which after all is normal) but also the soldiers guarding us (which was less normal since we had much higher degrees).

The time table was also very strict, waking up at 5:30, washing and dressing must be finished at 6:00, 15 min for our bed and to put on our clothes, 6:15 till 7:00: breakfast and speaking with one another, 7:00 till 12:00 working silently, each at his desk, 12:00 till 13:00 : meal and discussions and possible games (indoors), 13:00 till 18:00 working again each at his desk in silence, 18:00 till 20:00 physical and military exercises since we were soldiers after all, 20:00: meal and free time till 22:00, then lights out and sleeping … even if we were thinking very hard to solve a difficult problem.

Life was mostly scientific and not really militaristic, most of my comrades had been forced to join like me. Once a week, on Sunday, we had the right to have an extended rest. I used this period to go every week to the barber and ask him for my usual very short buzz cut and to have some rest, possibly playing games or doing sports with my comrades. We were never allowed to leave the compound where we worked, but on this rest-day we could go farther than the limits of our specific building, by that I mean farther than the lab and the dorm.

That was our limit !

Once I wanted to discuss my research with one of my "colleagues", but I was immediately stopped: we were both soldiers and we had to respect the secret of our work. I explained that it would be more fruitful to have the permission to discuss with a colleague of the same building. As a result of my objections I was sent to the brig, chained and knouted and all that for a week.

When I came out of the brig, I received an explanation: my work was good but it was forbidden to speak about it, even with another soldier, even with another member of my team.

Two months later we were ordered to explain what we were doing in seminars. I never understood the secretive mind of my chiefs, but I accepted it then as a necessity.

Once I asked to my Captain:
"Sir, when will I have a long leave ?"
And the answer was: "Not before you are promoted to corporal, and that will not happen before you have three years of service."
I had then, not counting my 9 months of preliminary military service, already 1 year and 2 months of service in this research unit.

Three years was a long time, but it came. Life had been bearable and I finally got a promotion and a leave of absence. Of course, I was not allowed to leave the country, but I had become used to these measures as far as we, soldiers, were concerned.

I did not have many leaves, but I had some. I met a nice girl, Natacha and we fell in love. I wanted to make love with her, but she objected : she wanted us to be married before that.

The reader must know that inside the compound, in the barracks, the Army provided for us, once a month, a lady to satisfy our male appetite. OK, it was a whore ! I could satisfy my sexual needs but that was not the same as a girl with whom I was really in love. Therefore I asked permission to marry her but I was told that it was not possible as long as I was not a Sergeant. I was also told that I would not be promoted to SGT before I had served satisfactorily as CPL during three years. What satisfactory meant was not explained and I started working as well and as much as I could.

Natacha and I waited patiently. I made technical love with whores and I kept my buzzcut clean and cut every week.

After three years of service as CPL I was indeed promoted to SGT. I now had a private room inside the compound, and a plain Private was selected by my chiefs to keep it clean while I was working on one of their projects. I also received the authorization to get married with Natacha provided I continued working as before.

That’s the moment I changed my haircut: I decided to have a real High and Tight instead of my hedgehog like haircut.

One must understand one thing: I remained a soldier. As a consequence, I was not allowed to go out of the compound every evening, I had to stay with my comrades who were not yet Sergeants. But every Saturday, after my compulsory haircut, I was allowed to leave the camp and join Natacha in her apartment. What we did there was nobody’s business !!! The only requirement was that I would be back in camp at 18:00 on Sunday.

I was never allowed to go back to England and show my wife to my parents and they did not want to risk coming to Russia, so I did not see them anymore. They never met Natacha nor our beautiful son Sacha, born in his mother's appartment but take at the age of one and raised inside this military compound near his father.

After all, life has been good for me: I am doing a job that I like (if one excepts the rules attached to wearing a uniform and performing military activities). I have a wife and a son I love. I have a good pay. Moreover: I learned to be obedient, which is always useful.

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