The bosses thumped in the presidium room, behind the scenes of the assembly hall, separated behind a wall from all outsiders. The exasperated bosses wanted to be served not by barmaids, but by pretty girls from the reception. Chernaya and her friends put cognac and snacks on the table for them, and now they were waiting in the hallway, all of a sudden they needed something else, and eavesdropped, winking.Gamer Hull Amox justified himself to the main:- Bert, well, what claims to us? Well, sales are growing, engagement is growing. Give the go-ahead to a hybrid of showbiz with Wirth-sex, let's cut the dough even cooler.Bert Ulem took a sip of cognac and dragged on a cigarette.- Hull, understand, this is a different question. The money is already all ours. If you did not take this money from the client for the toy, Galaxy will still receive it on any other service. Now all our cash flows are just spinning from one department to another. What we need from you is not money, but days. We
Ratmir was at home for the first time in four years. At home - this is with my parents, in Tavtos - a small town 300 kilometers north of Chernostepe. The apartment in an ordinary nine-story building was different from the others. Ratmir's father, Miroslav, made furniture for himself - cabinets, a table, armchairs and stools. Now Ratmir and Miroslav were sitting on these carved strong stools at a powerful table, and Ratana's mother was throwing lunch on this table. Hot fatty soup with meat, rice with meat and vegetables, greens. The steppe Horde did not have not only passports, but also the so-called full names, they were given names at birth, in the horse manner, combining the names of their parents: Ratana + Miroslav = Ratmir.Ratmir was happy and smiling, and was surprised that his father was not very cheerful. For 4 years he has aged noticeably. The face became narrow, dry and hard, the eyes became larger and deeper, the bald spot was wider and darker. He sat with his elbows on the
The void this time was unusual. I sat in an armchair, in silence and darkness, went through the delight of freedom, as usual, crawled through fear, and waited for anger to rise from my own dark depths, through all the nerve channels. But now everything was different. Behind the fear, I felt a look “from there”, like a scanner, it was directed at me and studied. I felt that I was in some kind of energy bag - in his attention. It was as if I was being weighed, compared with something, put into a database search.Yes, it was a look, like a border guard's - carefully at me, in the face, then at the passport, then again intently at me, again at some document ... It was difficult for me to understand how this something in the void relates to me. There was no aggression or fear on the other side, but there was no indifference either. Non-excessive, mild curiosity, an attempt to remember something about me or understand what I am ...Then it disappeared, and the anger did not come, and the of
I was struck by this intelligible picture of unpredictable chaos, ready to quickly, responding to my action, create events, people - friends or enemies, offer through them information, signs, answers to questions and ideas. Until I touched anyone, did not stop, chaos silently flowed like a muddy river along the transition, like time, forward, and forward. Here, time is the same stream of possibilities, passing by us, passing seconds in front of our noses, in each of which something can happen, until these moments, not being realized, go beyond the horizon, where they become unfulfilled dreams or shocks that have passed us by .The automatic doors of the car were already closing ahead, but I quickened my pace and jumped up, gently pushing those who were standing in the aisle, thankfully I heard pressure from behind - someone else managed to squeeze in before the doors closed. The crowd in this part of the metro-conveyor, packed into wagons, as if through tanks, and rushed through the b
At the box office they gave me a ticket - a white cardboard long flap with gold embossing - letters, symbols. The words on the ticket were not clear, but I felt that my name was among them. With this cardboard in hand, he entered the doors indicated at the box office. Behind the doors opened a corridor - about ten meters, without windows, lit by the soft gray light of long lamps built into the ceiling and walls. I walked along the gray carpet that muffled the sound of footsteps to the reception. This is the frontline, what you need. The girls, all three, were as beautiful as a poster for a better life. Redhead, blonde and... I froze when I saw her. Black, with sad deep eyes, a smile - as if cheerful, but still bitter. It was she - the one with whom I wanted to live together, once in my youth I built plans and dreams. Who refused me and, in fact,I couldn’t think where I was, where she came from, what was happening and what could be done, I, confused and timid, approached their table,
“There is a fire there,” with this recollection and something else very cynical, rude, vulgar and very funny, following from the inscription that the men showed in the yard, I opened my eyes, resting immediately on Wolverine’s eyes. It was morning outside the window, it was light in the room and the sun's rays lay in juicy bright spots on the carpet, on the wall, on the table.The witch was still in the same terry white robe, but without makeup, without hair, slept. She looked at me curiously, touching my cheeks and hair. She smiled and remained silent, shaking her head, whispering something.I was surprised how well I felt, powerful streams of energy seemed to go through the veins, through the muscles, they were tightly inflated with force, I almost flew up to the ceiling.In the kitchen, sitting again in the company of a dog and a cat, I watched Wolverine nimble between the stove and the refrigerator, making food, and listened to her cosmogonic performances.- Look. Imagine that eve
- All right, I'll give you the opportunity to talk to the two detainees. Only without a camera. They look bad. Don't look at me like that. There is a war, and they are prisoners of war. My counterintelligence worked with them. No one will accuse me of anything, I did not break the law, but there is no need to show it.Major Kloss was sitting on a cot in his tent, wearing a T-shirt, rubbing his thick chest hair with his hand. His boots beside him, topped with wet socks, rested his bare feet. On a stool next to the cot was a glass of tea and a tray of sweets.- I should not let the press go to the prisoners, but I respect Fadir and trust you. These guys - captured militants can no longer be helped. But I would like you to have the intelligence and professionalism to bring their stories to others. To those just like them. There are billions of them in the galaxies. They were not brought here by faith. She brought a dream of justice and that they have the right to happiness. It was only l
This library seemed dark last time, but now there was normal light from the lamps in the ceiling. It was clear that this was a rather spacious hall, connected by an arch to the next one, and then to another one - it was not known where these rows of shelves with books, folders and individual sheets in files stretched.A middle-aged woman librarian, with blond hair tied in a bun, in a strict skirt just below the knees and in a blue blouse, climbed down the ladder, carefully stepping on the floor with her feet in shoes with low heels. She smiled at me, I smiled too.“I wanted to take you something for tea, like cookies and jam, but somehow it turned out that I came without everything,” I said guiltily.“If you wanted, you brought it,” she said. And on a small low table appeared a jar of some dark jam and a plate of cookies. She reached behind a nearby rack and pulled out a boiling electric kettle.She poured boiling water into transparent faceted glasses in copper coasters, where the bl