Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 23

Dmitry walked along the wet cobblestones, trying not to pay attention to the stares of passersby. Everyone who saw him stopped and looked at him in amazement – as if they’d seen a ghost or some exotic beast.

I have to be careful, he thought. If they take me for a madman, they could send me to a hospital. Or worse – to the police. And what would I say? That I’m from the future?

The cold October wind cut through him – the sweatshirt didn’t protect against St. Petersburg’s dampness. Dmitry shivered and quickened his pace.

Around him was the real nineteenth century – not a museum version, not from a book, but living, actual. There went a merchant in a beaver hat and fur coat, fat, with a full beard. There ran a messenger boy with a package in his hands. There stood a police officer in uniform, carefully examining the passersby. There begged a disabled veteran without a leg, leaning on a crutch.

Lord, Dmitry thought, this is all real. These people are alive. They have their own lives, their own fates. And I’ve ended up here. But why? What for? What am I supposed to do here?

He turned toward the embankment – recognized it immediately. The Neva flowed the same as in the twenty-first century, but the embankment looked different – not as well-maintained, without modern streetlights and asphalt. But there were those very granite parapets he’d read about in books.

He stopped, placed his hands on the cold stone, and looked at the water. Murky, dark, it flowed slowly toward the gulf, carrying the reflection of the gray sky within it.

What should I do? he asked himself. Where should I go? I have no money – well, I do have modern money, but it’s useless here. No documents. No clothes. No roof over my head. I’m completely alone in a strange time.

Fear began to rise from within again – cold, sticky, paralyzing. But with it came another feeling – strange, incomprehensible. Exhilaration? Hope? The sensation that finally something real had happened, not invented, not illusory?

I’m free, he suddenly thought. For the first time in my life, truly free. No work, no obligations, no that gray routine. There’s only me and this time that I loved so much in books. And now I can live in it.

But then a sober thought came:

To live, I need money, clothes, shelter. And I need to somehow explain who I am. A foreigner from America – that’s a good cover story, but it won’t work for long. Sooner or later someone will ask for documents. What will I say?

He took his wallet from his jeans pocket and looked at what was inside. Three thousand rubles in modern bills. A bank card. A driver’s license with a photo. All of it was absolutely useless here.

Driver’s license, he smirked. I can just imagine how a police officer would examine this plastic with incomprehensible letters.

Suddenly he remembered the glasses. Those very ones that had brought him here. He fell, they flew off, rolled across the cobblestones…

Where are they? he thought in a panic. I lost them! What if they’re needed to get back?

He quickly felt his pockets – nothing. He turned around and ran back to the place where he’d fallen.

But the street was different now – or had he gotten lost in the alleys? Only twenty minutes had passed, and he already couldn’t remember the way.

Calm down, he ordered himself. Calm down. First I need to solve the problem of survival. And the glasses… maybe I don’t need them. Maybe I can’t go back anyway.

And strangely – this thought didn’t frighten him. On the contrary, it brought some relief.

Maybe this is what I needed? he thought. The chance to start over. In a world where no one knows me, where I can become anyone?