Setting: A small apartment in Yaroslavl, late evening in winter. Snow is gently falling outside the window.
[Scene opens with Dima making tea while Pasha lounges on the couch tuning a small wooden flute.]
Dima: (half-laughing)
Don’t tell me you’re about to play that thing now? It’s nearly midnight, Pasha.
Pasha: (snaps his head up, eyes wide)
Dima! Are you crazy? I’m not playing it, I’m just checking the tuning. You know what happens if you whistle or play wind instruments at night.
Dima: (sighs with mock despair)
Ah yes. The evil spirits will be summoned, your bank account will empty, and all the spoons will disappear from your kitchen.
Pasha: (serious tone, crossing himself)
Mock all you want, but my grandmother always said—whistling at night brings poverty and misfortune. I’m not risking that.
Dima:
And I’m telling you, your grandmother also said you could catch a cold from sitting on stone steps. Doesn’t mean it’s true.
Pasha:
Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. Every time I sat on the stoop as a kid, I ended up with a sore throat.
Dima: (pouring tea)
Correlation, my dear Pasha. Not causation. It was probably just winter, and you were licking icicles like a sugar-deprived squirrel.
Pasha: (grinning)
Okay, maybe. But you can’t explain why bad things always happened after I heard whistling at night. I’m serious—one time, I heard someone whistling outside around 1 AM, and the next morning, my bike tires were slashed.
Dima:
So your theory is: ghost hears whistling, gets bored, and slashes tires?
Pasha: (playfully defensive)
No, but something about it—it’s like it attracts bad energy. Dogs howl, streetlights flicker… I don’t know. Maybe it’s like some frequency that disturbs… the natural balance?
Dima: (smiling, sipping tea)
I can tell you what frequency it disturbs—mine. Especially when I’m trying to sleep.
Pasha:
Laugh all you want. But these traditions exist for a reason. You think all of Russia just randomly agreed on the same superstition?
Dima:
That’s exactly how it happens, actually. Oral traditions. One person has a bad night, blames the whistle, tells a story, it spreads. And over generations, it becomes “truth.” Humans are pattern-seeking creatures. We want cause and effect, even if there’s none.
Pasha:
And scientists are spirit-denying creatures. No offense.
Dima: (chuckles)
None taken. Look, I get it. Superstitions gave people comfort when there were no explanations. But now we do have explanations. Evil spirits don’t show up because of sound waves. If anything, whistling is more likely to attract an annoyed neighbor than a ghost.
Pasha:
But isn’t it kind of beautiful, though? That so many people believe in something invisible, together? Like collective poetry?
Dima:
Sure. Beautiful—and a little dangerous when it replaces reason. That same thinking is what led people to burn witches. Or take horoscopes seriously when making medical decisions.
Pasha: (nodding slowly)
Fair. But maybe some beliefs are harmless. Like my whistling rule. What’s the worst that could happen if I don’t whistle at night?
Dima:
Nothing. But what’s the worst that could happen if you do?
(He raises an eyebrow and starts whistling a silly tune on purpose.)
Pasha: (dramatically throws a pillow at him)
Dima, stop it! You’re going to jinx us both!
Dima: (laughing)
If anything happens tonight, I promise I’ll blame it on my dark science powers.
Pasha:
Fine. But if I wake up tomorrow and all the milk has curdled and my left sock is missing—
you are buying me a protective amulet.
Dima:
Deal. And I’ll make it from science-grade aluminum foil.
[They both laugh. Pasha reluctantly picks up the flute again, hesitates, then sets it down. Dima passes him a cup of tea.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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