Mysterious Mimicry

“Good morning! Good morning Romanov!”

“Give me five more minutes Petrov” said Romanov as he turned over in his single mattress bed.

“Time for work! Time for work!” Shouted Petrov the parrot, as he flew and landed on Romanov’s pillow, giving his owner’s ear a slight peck.

Opening one eye in annoyance, the slim tall man sat up while rubbing his eyes, giving in to his parrot’s persistent pestering. Walking to the bathroom to change and wash up, he set about his routine, shaving and brushing his teeth as he had done a million times before.

Pecking at the bathroom door with Romanov inside, Petrov made sure he would not forget breakfast for the both of them. Squawking as he flew down the stairs behind his master, Petrov landed on the dining table, taking his usual spot at the end.

Pouring out some sunflower seeds and grains into Petrov’s personalized small bowl, decorated with the likeness of parrots flying in a lush jungle, his bird went straight to work eating, Romanov made a simple breakfast of toast and eggs for himself, watching the time to make sure he would not be late for his work at the nuclear plant.

Finishing his bowl of seeds, Petrov made the perfect imitation of Oliver Twist, altering his voice to sound like the famous English little boy: “Please sir, I want some more. I want some more.”

“You cheeky little fellow, don’t you go turning British on me,” said Romanov as he poured a bit more food for Petrov.

Packing a quick lunch and grabbing his briefcase, Romanov stroked his bird’s head affectionately before opening the front door, waiting for the response from Petrov that would come like clockwork.

“Goodbye Romanov, Goodbye. See’u’soon. See’u’soon.”

Taking one last glance at Petrov, Romanov smiled as he shut the door and headed for the train which would take him to the nuclear factory in Chernobyl.

Arriving at the plant, some of his colleagues patted him on the back, calling him by his pet name. “Hey Bird Boy! How’s your parrot doing?”

Smiling back, Romanov assured them everything was just swell and that he managed to teach Petrov some new words. “I got him to say, ‘honour to the Fatherland’ the other day.”

“You’re a real patriot eh, Romanov? Anyways, let’s get working. Otherwise the boss will have our heads.” Said another colleague.

Manning his station, Romanov made sure the coolant levels were stable, and that the reactors were operating on full capacity. After eating his measly, tiny sandwich for lunch, he endured another four hours at work before heading back home on the train.

Opening the door to his apartment, he called out for Petrov who was unusually not at the door waiting for him. “Petrov? Where are you bud?”

“We must keep quiet and search. And search. This mission depends on it. Depends on it.” Said Petrov quietly from the bedroom.

As Romanov entered, he was confused as to where Petrov learned those new phrases, and realized some of his belongings had been tussled or moved over as if his home had been searched.

“Captain Jones needs evidence. Needs evidence. Can’t go empty handed. Empty handed.”

Taking Petrov in his hands, Romanov was trying to piece together what had happened to his home and more importantly, what had happened to his best friend in the world.

“Need security codes. Security codes.” Echoed Petrov, like a recording machine.

Looking around more carefully and hearing what Petrov had to say, he knew that something admis had occurred, and he immediately called his superiors at the power plant.

“Yes Sir, my parrot recorded some of what the spies said. No Sir, I am not drunk. They searched my home for evidence of some sort. No Sir, please…” Romanov’s voice trailed off as his manage hung up on him, thinking he was crazy, drunk or both. Even the superiors had heard of Romanov’s affection for birds, and they often dismissed him as a crazy coot.

Lying on his bed, bolting awake every time a sound was heard, he tried his best to sleep, not knowing what would happen tomorrow. Slowly, his eyes drooped lower and lower and he finally fell asleep, dreaming of a giant explosion at the plant, but he would not remember his dream when he woke the next morning.

“Wake up. Time to wake up!”

Groggily, Romanov sat up, relieved that Petrov seemed to be getting back to normal.

Pouring some seeds for Petrov, the parrot pecked at several seeds before saying something worrisome to Romanov: “Will sabotage the plant tomorrow. Plant tomorrow.”

Hearing this, Romanov rushed to put his shoes on and grabbed his briefcase before jetting towards the train, hoping to get there in time. Looking out the window where the tall cooling towers of the plant could be seen emitting steam, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut that something was going to go terribly wrong.

Arriving at the nuclear plant, he entered the control building and scanned his card as fast as he could before opening the door to the bridge.

“Hey Bird Bo—what’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“No time to explain, there’s something bad going to happen today. Where are the control remotes?” Said Romanov frantically.

“Here, there’re here. What are you blabbering about?” Asked one colleague.

Taking a remote, he didn’t’ notice that he was standing right next to the controls and when he gestured with his hand, he accidentally broke the handle for the temperature regulator. “This whole plant’s going to be sabota—” Crack! “Oh no, no no no! Quick! Someone fix the handle, the reactor’s going to blow!”

As the smoke billowed from the explosion in the distance, Petrov continued watching his spy movie, where he had been learning all his new words. Words that had costed his master’s life.