Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 13

Three years ago, already working as a systems administrator, Dmitry happened to run into a former classmate on the street – Sergei Mikhailov, who had stayed in academia and earned his PhD in history.

“Dima!” Sergei said happily. “It’s been ages! How are you? Where are you working?”

“At an IT company,” Dmitry answered vaguely. “And you, still doing research?”

“Yeah, defended my dissertation, now I’m an associate professor,” Sergei announced proudly. “Teaching students, writing articles. Remember how we dreamed of becoming historians? I made it!”

*He made it,* Dmitry thought with envy. *And I didn’t. Why? What did I do wrong?*

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“The history of nineteenth-century industry,” Sergei replied. “It’s a relevant topic, in demand. They give grants, send you on research trips.”

*Nineteenth-century industry,* Dmitry thought with disgust. *The very topic Petrov suggested to me. So if I’d agreed, I could have become a PhD too.*

“Do you remember Professor Krylov?” Sergei asked. “Shame he died. He was a good teacher.”

“I remember,” Dmitry answered briefly.

“They say he really praised you. Too bad you left graduate school. You could have become a scholar too.”

*Could have become,* Dmitry repeated to himself. *If I’d agreed to study industry instead of knights. If I’d compromised my principles, betrayed my dream. But back then I was still proud, still thought principles mattered more than bread.*

After that encounter, Dmitry walked around in a fog for several days. He understood he’d made the wrong choice, but there was no going back. Time had passed, opportunities were lost.

*Three years ago I still had a chance to change everything,* he thought then. *Re-enroll in graduate school, agree to any topic, just to stay in academia. But I was too proud, too principled. And now I’m twenty-five, and it’s too late to start over.*

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