Essay
At the «SHUM» youth center grounds in the village of Donskoye, you can turn off Dobrykh Del Street toward the telephone booth. Ring up. It is now called «The Fighter is Always Connected.» According to local legend, you can hear the stories of heroes on the line.Established by presidential order, this youth educational and recreational center on Divnaya Street operates year-round. The residential cabins are numbered from 14 to 50. There is an amphitheater, a media center, «Media» and «Journalism» tents, and a youth market. And at the end of the street—the sea.The site map already includes Discovery Street, Knowledge Street, Creation Street, Hospitality Street, and Dobrykh Del Street, along with the Avenues of Respect and Gratitude. The digital character SHUMI is considered the host; he has his own cabin and a square dotted with birch trees. But what interests me most is that space for a ravine was found here.The ordinary ravine on the path to the «Dvizheniye» educational center is a symbol of a failed attempt—a point from which one can push off and move forward. And the bridge over the stream on the descent to the sea is a transition «from the noise of endeavors to the noise of the sea.» Legend says that people fall silent on it, trying to formulate the single main idea of their project.
The biography of «SHUM» is brief. The first All-Russian Youth Forum opened in the Kaliningrad region on June 21, 2022, bringing together five hundred creators from 77 regions. By 2025, it acquired a location on the Baltic Sea coast—the village of Donskoye. The fourth forum took place here from August 12 to September 14. Across four educational sessions, about 1,200 people attended from all regions of the country and 16 foreign nations.
The 2026 anniversary forum was scheduled to coincide with the 80th anniversary of the Kaliningrad region. From June 10 to July 13, five programs took place for 1,443 participants from 84 regions; the culmination was the unified «SHUM Manifesto.» The center is growing rapidly. According to the regional government, the design for permanent buildings is planned for 2026–2027.
Give it a try when you are here. In conversation, you can adjust your thoughts on the fly, but on a short bridge, you have to spend some time with what you have. Then you can return to the street of Good Deeds and hang up the phone. It is easier to listen to someone else’s story when you aren’t preparing your own reply.
Don’t hang up
Vika was good at recording voice memos as if everything were fine. Even if things weren’t going well, she would delete the initial sigh, speak a little faster—and then she could send it.
This method failed her on the forum. There was no editing; the jury sat across from her. The question about ROI came first. Vika was silent for four minutes, then the timer chimed.
Now, she stood by a ravine on the way to «Dvizhenie» and tried to tell the team that everything could be fixed.
«Will it be better the twelfth time?» Danil asked.
«Do you think so?»
«No. I brought tea.»
The volunteer placed the thermos on the ground, adjusted his yellow «SUM» scarf. Vika took a cup and put her phone in her pocket, without sending the message.
They were given a second defense tomorrow at nine. Sasha, who had been working on the budget, left after her words: «Well, we should have prepared properly.» Vika had the spreadsheet. Reading it turned out to be harder than blaming Sasha.
«Have you ever bombed before?» she asked.
«Once, my thermos opened up on stage. Right in my backpack.»
She finally laughed. Danil poured himself more tea.
— The history booth for Good Deeds is more interesting. If you want to.— What kind of stories?— You pick up the phone and listen. They told you about the ravine, right? How people bounce back after a fall. You can listen to how people bounced back there. But only until the end.— And then dial a number?— There’s no number to dial.The booth stood by the dining hall under a lamp post. Vika opened the door and wiped the fogged-up glass with her sleeve. Danil showed her from outside: pick it up.Someone coughed into the receiver.— Hello?— Don’t hang up. Just a moment… — The voice was low, hoarse. — I fell into the ravine too. Summer of '22, the first shift. They told me my project was unfeasible. I went to the sea afterward. There’s a small bridge over a stream…— I know. What did you do?The voice faded. Vika tapped the apparatus.— Hello, I’m listening.A cough again, exactly the same.— Don’t hang up. Just a moment… I fell into the ravine too.The recording. Vika took out her phone: she could speed it up and listen on the way. She turned on the voice recorder and held it near the receiver. The man talked about seven boards, one of which sways, and about the phrase he finally managed to articulate. The next morning, he told it to the jury, and they approved the project.
— Which phrase are you talking about? — Vika couldn’t help herself.
Another cough.
— Don’t hang up. Just a moment…
She pushed the door open. Danil was squatting by the lamppost, tying his shoelace.
— You guys are getting choked up.
— Don’t interrupt me.
— This is a recording!
— So what?
We need to sort out the budget and catch Sasha. And she’s arguing with a volunteer in the booth.
Vika put the receiver to her ear again. The man reached the bridge and fell silent. She waited.
Then more. All she could hear on the line was the sea. She felt like saying, «What happened next?», but she bit her lip.
— I stood there for a long time, — he finally said. — I remember it clearly. In the morning, I managed to say one phrase. The project has lived ever since. And I still dream that I’m standing in front of them and remaining silent.
Vika slowly crouched down. She wanted to ask why he hadn’t shared that part sooner. She remained silent.
— Now you, Vika, — they said on the phone.
She straightened up so sharply she hit her elbow on the wall.
— Vika? How do you know…
Beeps.
The voice recorder held a sea of sound. She fast-forwarded to the end. No cough, no voice. Danil listened with her.
— He said the name right here.
— I heard it. You repeated it loudly later.
— Danil, I’m serious.
— Me too. Let’s go, I’m freezing.
On the way to the sea, Vika tried to guess who might have pulled the prank. Why was Danil waiting outside? He listened, sometimes agreeing. Near the jetty, he raised a finger to his lips.
Seven planks. One gave way underfoot. Vika stopped, like the person on the phone. She stood silently. No one rushed her. She waited until Danil crossed over, and then took out her phone.
— Sasha, it’s me. Please don’t delete it. I said something awful to you. I didn’t even look at the spreadsheet before my defense.
There was nothing more to say. She stood with her finger hovering over the delete button, then sent it. Along with a sigh.
On the bench by the sea, Danil and she spread out a notebook. Vika listed the venue rental, the stamp, and questions for partners; he sketched out a table, occasionally asking for an explanation of expenses. She was looking for an answer in the file. The tea was finished. Danil took out a sandwich, split it in half; the cheese on the edges had hardened, but there was nothing else to choose from.
Sasha responded at five-thirty. «Sorry, I snapped. I’m in the tent if you need help.» Vika stood up.
— Are you coming?
Danil hid the empty thermos.
— I’ll get coffee. We’re out of tea.
At nine, Vika brought a sheet with a budget, marked up with arrows. Sasha had promised to come by, but the chair by the door remained empty. She started with the reason they had launched the project: so people in small towns could tell their stories. Then she reached the expenses and stumbled.
Her hand reached out to put the sheet away. Vika put it back, found the correct line, and continued. No one hit the timer early.
She spoke for five minutes. Sasha entered at the three-minute mark. They left the project, even though the amount of work on it had increased. A week later, Sasha moved to a different team. Vika remembered how that night he explained a formula to her until she understood it. She couldn’t be upset.
Later that evening, after her defense, she returned to the booth. She wanted to tell it beautifully: failure, the sea, a successful morning. She turned on the voice recorder and picked up the phone.
«Don’t hang up. I fell into a ravine too. In July, during the last week of the forum. I stood there silently for four minutes. And I upset another person…»
She spoke for ten minutes. The phone screen went dark—the battery died—but Vika finished. About the little bridge, seven planks, one that swung. About sending a message and being afraid of the reply.
The next night, a boy with a backpack approached the booth. He picked up the phone.
«Don’t hang up,» Vika said.
«Did you fail too?»
There was a silence on the line. Then a sigh was heard—one she didn’t edit out.
