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UNDERGROUND 137
A man in a black kimono rolled out into the corridor at the tail of a few leadership, which was quickly smashed by electric cars, silently sliding over a carpet as endless as the Black Sea. A blond-haired young man who looked like a hare and a girl with an attractive, forgettable face of a TV presenter approached the man left alone, who was not supposed to have an electric car, with a guilty look.- Idlers! - Shouted at them "kolobok" in a kimono, grabbing the young man by the blond tuft. “Were you chilling again, monkeys?!The young man obsequiously giggled and, having received a slap on the back of the head, he imprinted on the girl.- Tomorrow at ten be in the hall with a bucket of manure.- With a bucket of what? The young man was surprised.- Dung, cudgel! We go to the people, so to speak. Julia, and you pick up something proletarian for me. Gucci is there...- Why manure? - The guy did not let up.- You'll find out tomorrow."So where can I get it?"The gingerbread man in the ki
UNDERGROUND 138
But this round remained for the character - the look of Mirzakarim Viktorovich, which she caught a glimpse of in a mirror image when she got up from the sofa, was aimed at her ass.“Why the hell are you wearing a kimono, Mirzakarim? - Suppressing hostility in his voice, the man noticed and, without waiting for an answer, disappeared behind the door. - Come here!Although the office was impressive, it still betrayed in its owner a person accustomed to stingy budgets accountable to taxpayers. Unlike the rest of the block - no expensive woods, painted ceilings and other vulgarity. A purely functional table from Ikea, comfortable “retro” chairs in the style of the seventies, landscapes instead of icons and portraits. And already the most complete sacrilege - a framed photograph of the family on the table with the same girl in a sweatshirt and jeans, at whose ass Mirzakarim Viktorovich lustfully stared. But the ventilation in the office was excellent. It seemed to the man in the kimono tha
UNDERGROUND 139
- Four or five. I do not remember. Sign in.Mirzakarim Viktorovich put his finger on the scanner, the door slid to the side, they entered, and immediately saw an incredibly seductive girl in a short sailor moon dress. She sat on a swivel chair by a light panel that simulated the snowy Alps outside the window, her legs crossed and her arms folded across her chest.This girl was Katya.Malek, looking at her, stood up in his tracks and began to smile like an idiot. His gaze rested on her bare knees. Katya frowned at the newcomers.- Well, why are you frozen, there is a computer, - Mirzakarim Viktorovich slapped him on the shoulder and immediately regretted it - he wanted to wash his hands, which he did, going to the bathroom.“Hello,” Malek said, continuing to grin like a seventh grader, “great outfit.”After that, he hardly took his eyes off Katya and moved to a table in the open lobby, where there was a small laptop.- Katerina, say hello to the person. He's not a commoner, by the way.
UNDERGROUND 140
Surrounded by whirlwinds, a short, three-car electric train thundered and flew away in a silent cloud, turning into a caterpillar hastily cutting through the snowy desert.Staring after her intently, Yakov entered the stinging cloud, cracking crisply at us with his heavy boots. Taking off his hood, he took out a wide smartphone with a working navigator from the pocket of the parka, looked, squinting from the sun. A blue dot on a single thread reflected the reality of the bewitching emptiness around - the boundless field ran beyond the horizon in all directions, merging with the blue of the sky. With rare copses covered with snow cobwebs, A-shaped pillars and blackening felts of forest strips, or rivers, or rotten Russian huts. For scanty trifles, arising, as if from the void, Yakov clung to his gaze, enduring frost and evil gusts of wind in his face. He walked for the third hour, but the hardy organism still had a lot of reserves of strength. But there was almost no time left.Jacob w
UNDERGROUND 141
He flew. But it was not at all about such flights that he dreamed of in childhood. It was not like a breathtaking unhurried soaring to the admiring cries and glances of people who suddenly became ridiculous in their earthly bustle. It was like a sophisticated torture by a giant centrifuge gone berserk.A monstrous force knocked him face down, awakening an animal fear of death from a collision with any solid object, but he felt only air resistance. It was as if someone tied him by the legs and spun him around like a ball. And unlike dreams, the sensations were quite natural - inside everything twisted, responding with fiery pain, escaping with a silent scream along with the insides.However, somehow, despite the "cosmic" speed, he managed to notice the fiery hemispheres around, breathing and shooting fiery threads. The hemispheres were exaggeratedly huge, and he saw them very well, as if they were rotating with him. Hemispheres with a barely perceptible curvature could be mistaken for
UNDERGROUND 142
He began to descend to the nearest hemisphere. It has monstrously increased, but has not approached. A terrible monkey emerged from its depths, but it was immediately swallowed up by lava and the monkey only had time to wave its hairy paws, surprisingly similar to human hands. Those hairy palms, clenched into fists at the last moment of life, were clearly imprinted in his head. Even when the blue Boston Terrier replaced the monkey. It revolved, as in childhood on a swing in the sun, and every second this blue dog wrapped in a blanket flew before my eyes. Unlike the monkey, she looked businesslike. She ruled here. In the wide-set eyes, one could read the stern condescension of an army commander looking at a negligent, far from the best soldier. He wanted to talk to the blue dog, close that distance, but he suddenly fell into some kind of viscous substance, and the dog and hemispheres disappeared. Everything is gone. Only a well-placed, lulling voice remained.When did catapults appear?
UNDERGROUND 143
“Go ahead,” the old man said, closing the door, but noticing that Yakov was not moving actively enough on the floor, he turned to him. Yakov got up and disappeared, and Boris again fell into a dream, but not for long.The old man woke him up and, looking at him with unblinking watery eyes, said, as they usually say about something bad:“We can’t wait any longer,” he handed Boris something smoking, “you start the main thing, I’ll do the rest myself.”- What? - Only Boris managed to say, feeling a pungent smell. In the next instant, his throat ignited with hellish pain, and before losing consciousness, he managed to understand that it was not hot lava that was tearing his throat, but dry, sizzling ice.Eighteen hours later he woke up. It was he who woke up and immediately jumped up, feeling an unprecedented surge of health and vigor. Yes, he obviously lost weight, but how much strength. I wanted to jump up to the ceiling in this wooden hut. And then he noticed Yakov at the table, lookin
UNDERGROUND 144
She considered this room in the attic a toy room, primarily because of the small round window through which she could look out like an adult without climbing onto the windowsill. Despite the thick layer of dust and mountains of rubbish, it was very comfortable here. True, she did not quite understand why her mother, who looked here for a minute, called the treasures stored here rubbish. Take this china rabbit and the German compass in the little wooden case she found under a stack of dusty newspapers in a box. A rabbit with a broken ear was clearly a Christmas toy at one time. There were many oddities in the world, but at the age of six you take these oddities for granted. For example, a tear-off calendar on the door showed the exact date - the thirtieth of July, one thousand nine hundred and fifty-six, Monday. She knew it well because, unlike most of her peers, she already knew how to read, and every day she herself tore off a sheet of the calendar from her bed. So someone came in he