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In his temporary lodging, Putin awakens in the middle of the night.
Something was stirring in his mind that interrupted his sleep.
He sits up on the side of the bed.
He switches on the light on the nightstand. It’s 2:05 am.
It’s the first night he spends at this location. It’s secure, with plenty of surveillance.
Yesterday at midday, just before he had lunch, he got a call from his personal secret service.
A possible assassination attempt had been intercepted. He was given some details with more to come as the investigation proceeded.
It has happened before but he feels confident his people are providing excellent protection.
And yet, it’s hard to relax.
‘Hi’
He’s stunned for an instant but recognizes the tone of the voice and sighs with relief.
‘You again…’
‘Yes… me…’
The disembodied voice has no discernible source. It’s just there, all over the room.
Putin looks around the room, slowly.
‘What should I call you?’ he asks.
‘Whatever you wish.’
‘My conscience?’
‘You could say that…’
‘What’s the point?’
‘To help you think.’
‘Ah, that.’ Putin smiles.
‘You’ve said you needed space… that you felt hemmed in by the West… so Ukraine should be yours…’
‘That’s right. Not just my space but Russia’s. I’m doing it for Russia.’
‘I’m familiar with the argument… but as I examine things… it seems to me what you are really needing is enlargement of your mental space.’
‘Aha.’ Putin chuckles.
‘Looks to me like you’re cramped inside your…
