Читать книгу Tarot and the Medici Patience. Grimoire - Petr Krylov - Страница 9

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Rice A light can be seen at the end of the tunnel. We are drawing ever closer to our goal.⁵⁹

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So, what exactly is a Stalker, when you look more closely?

Well then, for instance, let us consider the necromancer. With him, everything is delightfully straightforward—he is surrounded by the dead he has summoned from their graves, who howl dreadfully, are fiercely jealous of anyone venturing too near the necromancer, and will shred to pieces anyone lacking a CASCO policy.6061

Or, for instance, vampires. With them, everything is perfectly clear—no one ever mistakes a vampire for anything else. At least, not before death.

The defining feature of the Bogatyr, let us say, is heroic strength. The Magician—the knack for conjuring. The witch—witchery. The Warlock—working warlockry.

But what, in all the worlds, is a Stalker, and with what, pray tell, do kindly, personable, and exceedingly likeable folk of every dimension eat them?

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Rice Whether you loved or you suffered—in the end, you wound up here all the same.⁶²

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Should anyone have perused the preceding chapters with due attention, they may have—quite by accident—noticed that every scenario comes equipped with a multitude of possible outcomes. And, curiously enough, every scenario offers endings both happy and terminal—full stop. Yet, should one toss a handful of scenarios together and give them a gentle stir, it swiftly emerges there are myriad combinations, but they all share a principal quirk: the overall odds of a happy ending, for reasons unfathomable, decline inexorably toward zero. The farther we go, as they say, the scarier it gets.

And yet, the probability of finding oneself three meters underground inevitably marches toward 100% with time—no matter the scenario! And if your script isn't pulled from children’s comics but from the grim realities of life, the disappearance of a happy ending proceeds at roughly the same speed as uttering the word ‘disaster’ with heartfelt conviction.

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Rice. Why are we standing? Whom are we waiting for? Motherland looks upon you with hope, my son! So what if you just rescued someone? The houses—they keep burning and burning…⁶³

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At this point, any halfway-competent mathematician will recall the wildest extremes of such hazardous and unwholesome professions as Agent 007, or, for that matter, Indiana Jones.

Everyone wants him, everyone is after him, and their intentions toward the scape— ah, pardon me, the hero – naturally, the Hero – are entirely incompatible with robust health and sound sleep for our leading man.

And the most curious thing is, even if, in the grand tradition of Indian cinema, you fire 150 shots from a six-shooter, they somehow still manage to shoot back! And – as a Rule – in bursts! And these fiends, wouldn’t you know it, come running at you from all sides. Like, honestly, as if it's some kind of clearance sale.

Vampires, now they have it easy in such moments—just latch onto a couple of scoundrels in some shadowy corner, top up on hells, and off they go, carried on the wings of the night. But what’s a humble Pont supposed to do in this predicament?64

These questions, oddly enough, trouble him very little. Without a trace of nerves, he glides from episode to episode, alive, well, and positively rosy-cheeked. Well, perhaps just a little bit worse for wear courtesy of the latest sex maniac. But how does he pull it off? Why is he slathered in chocolate and all manner of Halle Berry? And yet here, you see, the sandwich inevitably falls butter-side down?!

A film, you say? But someone does win the national lottery! …or becomes president… And someone—perish the thought!—becomes the president’s wife!!!

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Rice One squirrel keeps spinning another in the wheel, round and round. Always and everywhere. People are forever turning the eternal puzzle.⁶⁵

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And if you look closely at Pont's actions in the film, you’ll spot one distinctive detail—he, that sly dog, is always right on time!!!

Not a second sooner, not a second later… the very instant the guard turns away, lost in musings on the meaning of existence… wham, Pont materializes—impossible to erase! And, taking advantage of his fleeting introspection (and sparing ammunition for the remaining 149 guards), you give him a good thump with your charisma right on the noggin, and off goes the soul—racing straight to par… ah, no, well, to hell, of course. I mean, obviously, to ааааааааааddd.

It’s just that the dear lady, for a few minutes, was overtaken by a bout of delicate feminine weakness.

And there’s Pont, right on the spot! Ready for use, as if he knew all along, that scoundrel…

And that’s always the way with him: give an inch—Pont’s already seized everything. What once belonged to someone else—now is Pont’s!

Even an old crone has her off days, so tell me, how are villains supposed to snatch a moment’s rest from their misdeeds? Pont takes full advantage of these breaks in the most shameless way, and then looks you straight in the eye—bold as brass—and brazenly announces, ‘Pont. Just Pont.’

What a delightful rogue, eh?

But the most intriguing part is—he manages to play his ‘one in a million’ chance with the consistency of a Swiss chronometer, inevitably slipping from episode to episode, deftly weaving through bursts of machine-gun fire and slipping between shapely legs in those rare moments when they were relaxed and defenseless.

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Rice. The instructions are simple. Take it—wave your hands about. If only a smidgen of strength remained for personal growth.⁶⁶

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Here’s another fairly well-known new film—‘Next’, starring Nicolas Cage.

There, Kolya had the uncanny ability to see the future—literally, three minutes ahead. Yet, as it turned out, that was enough to duck at the right time and raise his head at the perfect moment. He sprinted between machine-gun bursts no less expertly than that dashing fellow, Pont.

The first time I saw him, I thought, ‘That’s it—Pont has gotten plastic surgery again.’

Their moves are just identical: no one fires a shot, you’re not even issued a pistol—just like in the construction battalion—yet the enemies tumble left and right, lining up neatly in stacks as if strictly following GOST standards!67

Thus, it logically follows that since Kolya never waved a pistol around in ‘The Prophet,’ and Pont doesn’t make a habit of shooting either, their chief weapon is the uncanny ability to appear in the right place at the right time—and, naturally, to greet incoming bullets with a broad, photogenic, bulletproof smile worthy of toothpaste advertisements…

Perhaps that’s what blinds the bullets—there’s really no other explanation for why they always end up missing…

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Rice As one poet put it: ‘Everything is trivial, except for time!’⁶⁸

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And if one were to employ strictly scientific language for the especially fastidious, one might offer the following formulation:

A significantly increased likelihood of success, even in those near-impossible survival situations, is afforded these individuals by their innate or acquired ability for absolutely synchronous interaction with aggressively disposed entities—thus enabling them to realize their wishes and capabilities in the most optimal fashion.

Did anyone understand any of that?

This, you see, is one of the distinguishing marks of Stalking—absolute synchronicity with The World, with the barest whisper of force, aggression, or weaponry.

On this note, I am reminded of verses—by Guberman, if memory serves:

My comrade nourished lice upon himself,

Refashioned rags, trembling all the while,

Took scissors to the fabric of The Universe,

And paid visits to God…

…without a knife.

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