Читать книгу Goddess of the Rainbow - Олег Ока - Страница 14

1***

– through **** billion years*-

…so, after many billions of years of eternity sitting on

the shores of forest lake.

It was early morning, and the far shore was closed by the veil of night mist which curled about a meter above the still water surface. At the top of the fog blend in with the cold pre-dawn sky. The other side of the lake was not visible, only the top of the mist could see the hint of a dark mass rising behind a veil of cotton – there protruded crowns of trees like toadstools.

Nick – the so-called human friends and acquaintances – was raised with books – good books – and lived idealistic notions. So friends had little – those whom he considered as such. To acquaintances-he treated with irony and contempt, regardless of their position. However, the number of friends has never bothered him, the good does not happen much, and our world is just a poor generous soul.

The deficit amount should be filled with quality, thought Nick, and selection conducted very carefully.

Now he sat on a fragment of a tree trunk, back towards the remains of the campfire, surrounded by blackened rocks. Nearby, under pine trees stood a yellow tent. There was stirring, occasionally heard muffled exclamations.

– Something happened – thought Nick – something definitely happened. —

He could not understand, whence this feeling and it bothered him. Ingrained habit, he began to sort through the last days, checking himself, trying to look different – and unexpected – sides in words and deeds.

Everything was in order. There seems to be. From experience he knew that after some time can open up unexpected nuances, but so far everything seems to be in order, and he pretended to calm down. Then it will be later.

Shivering, he stood up, walked over to the campfire, looked around, saw written in a dry branches collected from the evening. He squatted down and sorted through the sticks, choosing dry. Randomly over the forest, circling a flock of birds, and their cries cut the air irritable and anxious. It felt like somewhere far away in the sky my g string broke.

2***

– then —

Zakharovy, zykovy the Windows looked out into the street named after the great leader. Street

was like a little Grand canyon, the hillsides were yellow and

red walls of century-old houses. At the bottom of the canyon ran a tram river. In moments the tram floods the walls of the houses shook and the ceiling rained white dust. To live here was all the same, what about the runway of a military airfield. Here you can easily become crazy, thought Nick.

Only Zach didn’t look like a psycho, on the contrary, he resembled a large, good Olympic God; – there was something Greek-Caucasian. If you look at it I wanted to take in one hand a tall, narrow glass with yellow, tart wine, and another skewer with exhaling the smoke flavor of barbecue to stand the table upright and pronounce endless toast. He would be bald, blond, would have been the spitting image of Bacchus. Said the male significantly and impressively.

– Jackdaw with cubs at the zoo, so relax. What’s new? —

– I don’t know – Nick shrugged – a Couple of disappointments… Nothing serious. —

To the disappointment of nick’s friends used to, and did not perceive dramatic.

– I hope not in the sense of life? – calmly asked the male, – what shall we do? Need to enjoy freedom. —

– The meaning of life? And he is? —

Well… drink beer … —

– Fuck you… you Know, just now I opened a couple of books, and … – The male tried to pass a moan. It was hot the moaning did not happen.

– Chekhov, – ruthlessly continued Nick, James Joyce. Full surprise.

– The male lazily nodded, – Joyce – okay. Abstruse uncle. And Anton Pavlovich – what? —

– Joyce just unclear. But Chekhov… a New edition has recently acquired. For the sake of the pleasure of receiving. Well, there is “Chameleon”, “Burbot”, “Surveyor”, you know. What? what did I see?!

– Publication appeared in Yiddish, nodded the male, – and you know, forgotten. —

– No. There was a completely different Chekhov. Not one that is “Kashtanka”, “the Boys” and so on. Not a textbook, some other. Full negative. Feeling know how the earth under my feet is gone. Something like short stories Gorky. Physiology, naturalism, decadence… And no positive. – Nick thought.

– It is certainly… depressing, – agreed Zahar-Only because there is Chekhov Chekhonte, and there’s Chekhov-playwright, tragedian. Of course, from school, we planted positive perception of the world, well, there – we have ours, we will build a new world. In short, stop whining, still ahead. What is Joyce? —

– “Ulysses” – said Nick – he’s actually in my hands for the first time caught, it’s not happened once. Performance what it was, of course. For reviews …Hemingway, Fitzgerald critics… some … —

And what performance? – Nick shook his hand – you Know, something insanely complex and interesting, so…

– And?

– And interest was enough for one page. Tuned in, you know, there – Kafka, Meyrink, Golding… And understand nothing… That is what it is – just stupid. But after waiting for the biblical revelation, after all, Hemingway, others – a complete delight! And – here. Stupid untidy heroes -it is unclear who lead an empty conversation-I know – yard

grandmother… And the meaning slips away, the feeling – that’s it, grabbed it, and it waved its tail, escaped from his hands, and again wander to the touch, whisking between the cold, invisible stones, and only water is flowing between the fingers. Pages six I have chewed – just out of stubbornness, Hemingway, after all… no Longer made.

– Not bear the soul of a poet, ' – said Zachary, In General, is that surprising? It’s not “the Gingerbread man”, a book for adults. And the taste and color … —

– That’s not it, – waved Nick – but then, there are the most common criteria. The integrity of the plot, psychological characteristics … —

– The horror … – nodded the male – only I beg, do not say beautiful. All the same thing in the opus – be it Shakespeare, Gogol, Bulgakov or Adams with Haggard – that was interesting.

– “Yes,” cried Nick – But this time I have Joyce’s and not found! One earth on which you walk. In the plane. And the hidden meanings behind corners. —

– Well, calm down. Think of it, Armageddon! Go for a beer? —

– Down-to-earth you some. —

– So interesting. —

– Silence…

– What?

– Weird… Why so quiet? … —

– You are ovation waiting for? —

– No …you don’t understand something. For window repairs? —

– Hey, Nick, expresses clearly. —

– Yes, the trams… since a half hour is not heard. No shaking, no rattling … —

– What are streetcars? You do not scare… Rails in the street already seven years removed.

3***

– after 20 years

And if they were not.

– I’m just really confused, right? This uncomfortable feeling like the world is broken. And, you know, not so long ago was a contender… On the lake…

– Was the nature?

– Yes…doesn’t matter. With Mouse and friends. Stupid. Nonsense…

– The applicant. – recalled the male.

– I don’t know… Just that same feeling; -the world has changed.-

– We change, but not the world. Ants on a slope of mount Everest, you know. waved hand male.

– Chekhov, Joyce, reminded Nick. – The uptake? One-to-one.-

– Melville still remember! Man just put himself in Moby dick, and over. Then he died, and the world remained. The world always remains, and the man disappears.-

– Cervantes, Rabelais, swift… – sadly handed it to Nick.

– Just a comfortable chair, sharilsya the male. – Sit, legs dangling, and think – ahead ETERNITY. A chair is the same junk. Shattered, it’s time to dump. And you mean the WORLD broke down! Yes, not the world! We may be, because misery is our…

– The world was created for people, and together they disappear, melancholic muttered Nick.

– What? This is the order, the procedure is, so to speak. It is not for us to murmur.

– And can the order be violated? Imagine – a cog is broken, right?

– And we here at what? In GOD’s kitchen to Suva – fraught, you know. And our mind all this high mechanics. We’re just consumers of the benefits. Give – take. And even if the microwave malfunctions in GOD’s kitchen, which are bound to BURST

AND – THANKS! —

And now Nick stood in the doorway the back door and cautiously looked Zakharov St. Petersburg court house. Judging by the lighting it was very late, and he could easily not catch the subway.

– Swing – angrily thought about my friend Nick. – So, if anything, will sponsor a taxi. —

And then freewheeling. “Freewheeling” – because he somehow knew what was going to happen something. It happened. Something was creeping in the far corner of the yard, tightened the misty shadow itself was only a blurred shadow, disturbing the sparse Bush of some elderberry.

And this was not the result of a tired vision, imagination or faceless St. Petersburg night, something very real.

(Nick immediately remembered Simak – “Almost human”)

It was, and he spit, he trudged there, just in case his eyes

parties in search of sticks, it could be a bad dog, although, of course, nonsense, there could be no dog, and he just wanted to quickly go through it, and on the subway I wanted to catch and meet him, out of twilight quickly ran something, just missing him, it was not a dog.

Ant. Giant lambent with red and yellow metal. With quick jointed legs. Samovar and on the back it was a big multifaceted black mark, like graffiti.

Some Buddhist symbols like all symbols exactly meaningless

only nachitavshis them.

Nick stupidly held his gaze and stepped aside, letting two or three.

Then he remembered where he had seen them before. Yes! – has he seen these creatures. Of course! One time they were a bit larger – the three-storey house of approximately. But drawing on the backs attended the same. In Arabic style…

4***

– minus 66 years

And was Rzhevka.

Before the birth of man there. Does not exist. But the soul is immortal. Somewhere it present.

Somewhere in the cosmos.

Another thing – personality. “I”.

“I” appears when the soul unites with the body. And after death, when the body is powered off, the identity is not necessary, it binds the soul his worldly passions, urges and desires. It does not

the soul to connect with the Cosmos, to return to a natural state, to earthly, bodily life.

And ?…m-m-m…my head hurts; – Nick was in a drowsy state,

lying on an old, wooden bench, on the ring rail 79. One

the ring was located Bedlam buildings, broken, dirty road,

temporary fences, heaps of bricks and concrete slabs. Stuck lifting cranes. Left muddy streets, ramshackle, mismatched fences,

which was seen dirty-blocks for the blind homes. The village, in short.

After work, on the bus stop, he bought a few bottles of beer…three? four? more?

It does not matter. The tram was not long. A very long time. And then he fell asleep. And certainly during that time was the limit of public transport.

Nick fumbled in his jacket pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, head circled.And it was empty.

Where did he go? Here there were no people, just the fences, behind which bristled skinny trees.

Street crooked fences stretched the endless, gray ribbon. Then

parted in the side was over. Ahead and to the sides stretches

open, covered with undulating grass plain.

Far in the grey of the horizon was bent low hills. The sun was not. But through the grass ran a narrow path, and Nick went through it. He was not going to go far, he was wondering how it would end, but when turned around – strip the city is already barely visible. He stood in the center of the circle and the hills on the horizon moved in a ragged blurred panorama of the city.

– To go back? – he was sorry to interrupt the interesting action, but… he again slowly looked around the neighborhood – nothing interesting in sight…

Hesitating he took a few steps further and froze.

Not visible behind the grass, the path crossed a wide ravine with steep slopes.

To the bottom of it was very far away. Height – depth? -about 12-storey house. Meters 40. Maybe more – nothing can compare. – The Grand canyon some.And what is this conflict? —

There, far below, something was moving. To bend over to see-was scary, and no handles. But that “something” was obviously climbing up the slope, all increasing in size.

The soil under my feet gave in, and Nick made a dash back, stumbled, crashed on the back, and when I rose – saw over the cliff was up to something like a balloon, only a ball of metal, copper tone.

It was not a balloon.Something like the head of a giant insect, and 15 meters.

Clearly the mechanism. Car? – Nick knew that somewhere nearby there was a military polygon.

Testing of new equipment? – for some reason he was sure that it is not that people this thing is irrelevant. The devil! she had no relationship at all to our world. She wasn’t here…