Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 12

After university, a dark period began. Dmitry tried to find work in his field, but everywhere they demanded experience he didn’t have. He didn’t want to work as a history teacher in a school – the salary was pathetic and there were no prospects.

“Maybe you could get a job at a museum?” his mother suggested. “You do know history.”

He did try to get a job at a museum. He went through several interviews, but everywhere they said the same thing: “There are no openings, but we’ll keep you in mind.”

*Keep me in mind, sure,* he thought sarcastically. *The same people who worked in museums twenty years ago are still there. They don’t hire new ones.*

Money was running out, his parents started hinting that it was time their son started supporting himself. And so Dmitry took a desperate step – he enrolled in a retraining course in computer technology.

*If you can’t do what you love,* he reasoned back then, *you have to do what pays.*

The course lasted six months. He studied operating systems, networks, programming. It went pretty well – he had a technical mind, and he had enough persistence for anything.

After finishing the course, he was hired as a systems administrator at a small IT company. The salary was decent for those times – three times what teachers or museum workers made.

“You see,” his mother rejoiced, “how good it is that you retrained! Now you have stable work, good money.”

*Stable work,* he repeated. *Good money. But what is a good life? That question didn’t interest Mom.*

The first months of work went fine. The novelty, the need to dig into details, to learn new technologies – all of it distracted from sad thoughts. Dmitry even began to think that maybe he would find himself in this new profession.

But soon the routine swallowed him. Every day the same tasks: set up a computer, fix a printer, update a program, solve an internet problem. Nothing creative, nothing interesting – just technology and more technology.

*I’ve become support staff,* he realized. *Just an appendage to machines. People bring me their technical problems, I solve them, I get paid for it. That’s my whole life.*

Sometimes he tried to remember what he’d dreamed about in university. Historical research, teaching, an academic career – all of it now seemed like a fairy tale from childhood.

*Maybe it’s for the best?* he tried to convince himself. *Maybe I was just overestimating my abilities? Maybe I wouldn’t have become a good historian anyway?*

But these attempts at self-deception didn’t help. Deep inside, he knew he had betrayed himself, his dream, his calling. And there was no escaping that knowledge.

***