Читать книгу Time Jumps. The Paradigm of Immortality - Владимир Баранчиков - Страница 12

Peter escaped from the dungeon of the Bastille, expressing his desire with the phrase “I want to go back”, and, having moved to another dimension, made a jump to 2021, crossing the gap of four hundred years and two thousand kilometers. When his ability to think returned, he felt like he was sitting on the couch next to his old parrot friends. The clever girls Grunya and Borya looked with obvious bewilderment at the guest who had fallen to them from nowhere, and bowed their heads in his direction in surprise. Their cohabitation in a cage precluded the ability to speak humanly, but undoubtedly: each of them would be able to express a common firm opinion:

– Peter is a fool, Peter is a fool!

Peter telepathically caught the thought floating in the air:

– Really, would a reasonable person leave his beloved, a count’s title and a royal court in beautiful Paris? – And then he answered with conviction: – No, everything was done correctly. The Bastille is not a Louvre or a sanatorium.

He looked around once again in a new setting: a rural hut, this is my first time here. Undoubtedly, the time machine had the function of sanity and, moreover, a well-developed sense of humor, placing it in a space causally related to the initial starting events. A kind of deja vu.

– I wonder who is the mysterious developer of this miracle that ignores the laws of nature? Nature itself? – Peter pretty much strained his thinking apparatus, but due to natural limitations, he immediately got lost in the wilds of abstract logic.

Having a unique experience of moving, he knew: first of all, you need to evaluate your current image. Kalinkin walked up to the battered trellis and studied himself carefully for several minutes. The mirror reflected a tall young blond man with a pleasant face, blue eyes and a short haircut – the spitting image of Paul Bettany. Light, three-day unshaven, a suit made of soft gray fabric, a white shirt with a small blue check, a brown belt on the belt and the same brown soft shoes. And what about the English language, the car did not give this bonus? Peter stood in the tribune pose and began to recite nursery rhymes:

– It is cold and still, the wind is away,

And a little Jack Frost is busy today…

In assessing his talents, he was objective: he had not advanced far, not at all Cockney, pronunciation of the type “English with a dictionary”, at the level of Pyotr Mikhailovich. A good reason to reflect on how the newly-made handsome man easily parted with the image of the pensioner Kalinkin, and how wonderful it is to feel young! The miracle machine intuitively determined that there was no need for a foreign language in the village. And here she is, a wonderful barrel, standing on legs in the corridor. As a convinced idolater, Kalinkin leaned towards her in a theatrical pose: thank you so much for the appearance and outfit, the spitting image of a dandy, if only the local boys, sensing an outsider, would not fuck off. Ask for what? And don’t walk down our street! Kalinkin put his hand in his pocket – and there, according to tradition, the Russian currency rustles. Normal course!

Peter left the house and, descending into the front garden, approached the fence: the forest was black on the horizon, cottages and country houses were scattered closer, beyond the meadow. The place is unfamiliar, I have not been here before. The pastoral picture was broken by the sound of an engine: a black Renault Duster jumped out from behind a turn of a dirt road, mercilessly dusting, and braked at the very gate. A dense brunette of about forty years old, dressed in high rural fashion, fell out of the crossover: a bright striped sleeveless jacket and elegant black leggings, frankly tight-fitting bulges and concavities of the body. The manners of a fashionista are clearly not aristocratic, such a person can also hit the head with a bag. She quickly jangled the alarm keyring and asked Peter:

– Hey, what are you doing here? – boldly she began her attack right at a gallop. And stopping about three meters from Peter, she continued the interrogation. – Who is this?

Peter was in no hurry to answer and looked appraisingly at the hostess of the house. It is easy to see that his appearance made a strong impression on her, but the level of aggression did not decrease from this. To defuse the situation, he gently replied:

– Thank you for taking care of Grunya and Borya. By the way, greetings from Dasha.

The brunette raised her wide painted sausage eyebrows in surprise and came closer:

– Is Daria back?

– Not yet, I left first.

– Where is she?

– In bed with Louis the Fourteenth, – Peter flashed through his brain, but he answered peaceably: – In Turkey, on vacation.

– Were you there too? It doesn’t look like… – The lady did not take her incredulous gaze off him and automatically identified: “stranger.” Indeed, all this was very strange, not to mention the fact that Peter’s appearance, outfit and manner of conversation were a complete dissonance with the local standard.

– I rested for five days, so we agreed from the very beginning, – he continued to compose. – And she’s for a full two weeks.

– It doesn’t look like a southern tan. Are you Peter?

– Yes, that’s right. Did Daria tell you about me?

– My name is Natalia. Yes, she said that she had a new acquaintance, a cute brown-haired man. And you’re blond.

– I burned out in the sun, – Peter was not at a loss, having given out complete nonsense, and thought: – Wow, these women…

Everything looked silly and doubtful. However, Natalia didn ‘t show it:

– Okay, why are we standing here. Come in, – and the first one resolutely headed for the house. Peter followed the hostess, noting the energetic gait and, of course, automatically assessing her advantages, accessible to the view from behind, somewhere four plus.

– And what is this? – she stared at the new object in the corridor, and then looked questioningly at the guest. – Where is this from?

There was a version that this barrel is an antique value, which was acquired today in the village with the assistance of Daria.

– Yes, yes, it is Daria, – Peter stressed, noticing a positive reaction to her name.

– Actually, I came to check on the birds, Dasha asked for it very much, she was worried… and then they called about this device, said it was urgent, so I asked them to deliver it here. But how did you get into the house?

– I couldn’t get through to you, I climbed through the window…

The further Peter fantasized, the more ridiculous the story became, however, it did not seem to bother the hostess in the least. After making sure that the house was in order and everything was in place, she changed her anger to mercy, sat down on a chair, lit a cigarette, and new, playful notes appeared in her low, confident voice.

– It’s not so important, – she reasoned, – where this incomprehensible dandy came from to visit her, the main thing is that Dasha is far away…

– Are you hungry? I’ll edit and sew something right now, – she said allegorically, wanting to seem original. – By the way, where did you buy such a beautiful suit?

– In Antalya. In the evening we went for a walk with Dasha, walked along the boulevard, went into the salon. There are good discounts in the season.

– So you came straight to us from St. Petersburg?

– Yes, exactly. I left my suitcase at home and took a taxi straight to you.

Peter was thinking how to get out of this situation: it is impossible to leave without a barrel – shaped device, it is more expensive to open the secret of time travel to this lady. To shorten the distance, too. Funny assholes in a cage, jumping from pole to pole, were in solidarity with him.

– So when will you pick up the birds, today? – Natalia pumped the situation with enviable perseverance. She clearly liked this dandy for his unconventionality, she had not had a man for a long time, and it was not bad for Dasha to set horns: she envied her, beautiful and farcical, everything was too simple for her – both with friends and lovers. And she has to support herself alone, and help her mother…

– As you say. I can spend the night at Daria’s house, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, but I can’t pick up the antiques today – it’s too late, and I’m tired from the road. Maybe we can arrange everything tomorrow morning?

Natalia mentally approved the course of his reasoning. She was really lonely, even if today would be a small festive evening, not like the others. Let him stay…

– You are like snow on my head! – she smiled pleasantly. And then she asked with an innocent expression on her face: – Would you like a drink?

That was the key moment: if Peter had answered in a different way, events would have unfolded unlikely. But he politely declined the offer with a soft smile:

– No, thanks. And you?

– I can’t drink alone, – Natalia answered unexpectedly harshly. In her words, one could hear the demonstrative position of an ascetic, and a reproach for refusal, and the offended chastity of a decent woman. The fountain, alas, was not expected…

They talked little at the table, avoiding eye contact, responding only to the questions on duty: more bread, salt, with or without gravy? Peter rightly praised Natalia for a delicious lunch, we lit a cigarette together. We chatted on neutral topics: about the weather here and in the Mediterranean, what is interesting in Turkey, how was the flight. There was an awkward pause.

– Don’t you want to do men’s business? – the hostess provocatively, slightly narrowing her green eyes, looked at the guest. Obviously, she had a course of action for any response. If “yes”, then you can, without losing dignity, develop this topic up to the consent to intimacy, and “no” – worthily retreat, flirtatiously playing with the instincts of a man, portraying a touchy. But Peter broke the slender female strategy, as if he did not understand the depth of the question, and asked:

– What do you mean?

– The toilet doesn’t drain well in the bathroom, can you fix it? – Natalia’s voice sounded poorly concealed, caustic mockery.

– A strong move, checkmate, – thought Peter. He is nearly an English lord, elegantly sent to load shit. And they offered bounty – a heavenly pleasure… He had a choice, but he dodged it. Not inflamed, you know… this is the price of female hatred for unfulfilled hopes and treacherous refusal.

– We need to see. Do you have any work clothes?

Finally went to bed. Natalia coldly wished good night to the space, defiantly making a bed for the guest on the kitchen sofa, and herself, stung, went into the room. Which is quite understandable: if there is no harassment for a long time, there is a malaise. And Peter stretched out with pleasure on a cold sheet and remembered Dasha – delicate, sensual and so dear, mentally thanking her for the symbolic lock in his heart, which she created with her love, the key to which no woman can now pick up.

The next morning, after hastily drinking tea, they began to gather. While Natalia was communicating with the taxi service on her mobile, Peter quietly left a couple of thousand on the trellis, and they said goodbye: she got into her car and went to a beauty salon in the center of the village, where she worked as a manicurist and administrator in one person. And he, after waiting on the street for the ordered car, barely pushed the barrel into the trunk with the help of the driver and asked for a ride first to the store where Daria used to work, and already there Peter would surely remember the way to her house.

– To visit us? – the taxi driver, a lively young boy, asked on duty, seeing a new face in his native places. He couldn’t stand city boys who beat off girls and buying up everything around, and even more so dudes like this. And the cargo is very strange, it will be necessary to ask Natalia on occasion: what for and how much…

– Yes, it’s good here, – Peter answered diplomatically and vaguely. – I need to stop by the store for a minute.

The driver smiled approvingly, portraying understanding and cordial hospitality. Entering the store, Peter, against all logic, caught himself thinking: how wonderful it would be here, behind the counter, to see Daria again… After quickly buying groceries and, most importantly, batteries – avoiding the previous mistake – he returned to the car.

Well, here’s Daria’s house. Peter opened the door: it is quietly, not any soul. Together with the taxi driver, they brought the barrel up the steps and left it standing in the corridor. For additional efforts, the driver received a generous tip, which he was satisfied with. How does Peter know that the taxi driver is familiar with Daria’s husband, and is already dialing his mobile phone number purely out of friendship – yesterday he drove him here from the railway station.