SAY THE NAME OF GOD Space Esperanto Svetlana Savit

SAY THE NAME OF GOD
(Space Esperanto)
Svetlana Savitskaya

CONTENT OF THE FIRST PART:
Chapter first. Cork.
Chapter two. Stratification of love.
Chapter three. Matrices.
Chapter Four. Gelendzhik syndrome.
Chapter five. Sword of Tamerlane.
Chapter six. Conversation with the elements.
Chapter seventh. Saints.
Chapter eight. Journey to the future.
Chapter nine. Kingfishers.
Chapter ten. Mother.
Chapter Eleven. Svetik.
Chapter twelve. Dream of Light.
Chapter thirteen. Lovely conversations with relatives about the main thing.
Chapter fourteen. Argument.
Chapter fifteen. Pink dawn.
Chapter sixteen. Name of God.

Is it possible to compress time into a novel, into a story,
in multiple lines? Is it possible to compress love?
So that it is exactly the concentration of coal dust
sleepless nights, shone like a diamond
in the palm of a loved one
under the genius of the master?


Chapter first. Cork
Half-haze-half-snow-half-rain-half drizzle of flying spray of cars - not in the face - on the windshield. But the wrinkles around the eyes tremble every time, and suddenly ... suddenly they don’t have time to protect the soul from the obsessive gray confetti of the Moscow Ring Road. The brushes lazily smear the oily sediments of suspension.
The traffic jam waiting ahead is first felt by the feet on the pedals. You have to slow down the speed. Whining somewhere inside from annoyance. And only then Svetoslav pays attention to the darkness and the night, which came somehow suddenly, and to the hellish-red eyes of the lower rear sidelights, moving ahead in the same direction as he.
“I'm already in hell,” a thought lights up in the inner sidelight, because there are a lot of red lights. Too much. And ahead, they generally intertwine into an ominous tangle of flickering garlands.
Slower and slower their movements in the black space of the road. The front ones are already up. And the middle ones do not see this yet but move more slowly. Even slower. More. Stop! Cork.
Here you go. Another piece of life was eaten by the road.
- Can you pick me up, boss? The traveler opens the door. Where did he come from to walk among the car, without winter clothes?! 
The gray suit gleamed with polished folds in the light of the advertisement, and without any permission the stranger plopped down beside the driver in the dark sheep's pile of the seat.
- I'll give you a lift ... how can ... - Svetoslav grumbled, taking this surprise for granted, - See? Got up?
He turned the wheel on the radio.
- No one expected such an abundance of snow today, - in response to the driver, it briskly informed, - according to the weather forecast, intermittent rains should have passed the next week. But more than 20 centimeters of rain fell in the afternoon. In Moscow, a traffic jam formed 896 kilometers. Public transport is limited…
"It's because of us," the stranger interrupted the message.
- In terms of? - Svetoslav did not understand, muffling the loudspeaker.
- You'll understand. Do you want me to break the cork?
Svetoslav laughed:
- Accelerate, - but, not believing at all, he turned off the engine so as not to waste gasoline. Get to the gas station! The car calmed down, lowering the wheels and bumpers, as if crouching down to rest, the kingpin relaxes his muscles.
Thousands and hundreds of thousands of the same cars stood densely along the ring highway of Moscow, growling engines, still hoping for movement, ready to move at any moment.
- Yes, it's easy, - not at all embarrassed by Svetoslav's disbelief, the stranger said, and began to somehow strangely manipulate his hands.
The owner of the car even turned his head in his direction in order to get a good look at the merry fellow, whose amazingly bright and young eyes rushed somewhere forward beyond the visible space, teeming with the red lights of the rear sidelights. He straightened his back. With his right hand, he began, as it were, to divert air masses towards the center of Moscow. And call someone with the left. Did he conduct? Or flaunted? Doesn't look like crazy...
He is forty or fifty years old. Lean. Slim. The skin is tanned and almost wrinkle-free. Gray hair is a little disheveled, but quite obediently and beautifully lies in waves on the back of the head. What was unusual about his appearance was his eyebrows! Too long for a normal person, antennae sticking out in different directions, gray eyebrows repeated the direction of his gaze, as if strengthening his will.
“Choleric,” Svetoslav gave the conclusion, and did not believe it when the front ones suddenly started moving. Their strip, one of all, at first slowly, and then faster and faster crawled through a multi-kilometer traffic jam.
The stranger looked triumphantly at the driver, stopped twitching his hands, and introduced himself:
- Yuri Vsevolodovich, - his eyebrows-antennas took the position of a satisfied cat smile.
- So long? Maybe just Yuri? Svetoslav grinned.
- Not. It is possible for you, but by patronymic necessarily.
- Well, YurVedych, so YurVedych. Shall we refuel? You do not mind? - the driver turned to the gas station and extended his hand, disarmed by the latest event, - Glory!
- Come on, come on Slavik faster, I won't be able to hold it for a long time! YurVedich shook hands quickly and dryly.
The driver obeyed. He promptly paid. And when they started again, he asked:
- Where are you?
- To three high turrets. Do I owe you something?
- And I to you? - Svetoslav grunted, - so why did the snowfall fall on us? Can you find out?
- How can I explain it to you? You won't understand.
The driver just raised his eyebrows in surprise. How can he not understand? I almost crashed into the front of Ford from injustice.
 The reason for all the troubles and failures of people is that faith in the First Cause - His Nature, Man - Cosmic Self-Existence, has disappeared. The laws of this world are apparently a consequence of the existence of a more subtle, earlier and super intelligent World. And, oddly enough, right now this unimaginably distant world has shown its interest in our existence, apparently the death of our civilization is not included in the plans of the One Life of the Cosmos.
- Yes, what is the life of space? Simple car collapse. Lots of cars, few roads. That’s all for a short time, - the driver teased, immediately, however, realizing that next to him was an outstanding and not simple person, - it’s better to tell us how you dispersed the traffic jam, and why the snowfall.
- Impatient. What's your name then? I forgot, - YurVedich asked, folding his eyebrows like a house, - my memory is cheating on me with my sclerosis.
The driver chuckled again.
- My name is Svetoslav.
- Svyatoslav?
- Not Svyatoslav, but Svetoslav. That's what my mother called.
- Mom needs to be loved.
- And I love it.
“I just forgot that you love me,” YurVedich pursed his lips reproachfully.
- How would you know?
- From there! Everyone has arrived, - the stranger wanted to go out onto the snowy road.
- You're up to the towers ...
- Oh yes.
And he didn't come out.
One lane, where their car was moving, was still working. The rest were inactive.
The travelers were silent. But the muffled radio suddenly began to speak louder, as if an invisible hand turned a wheel:
- In almost all regions of the planet, there has been a sharp increase in the intensity and frequency of natural disasters, unprecedented over the past two centuries. Dangerous processes continue to grow at an alarming rate and spread across all continents and in all vital areas of human activity.
Among them, of particular concern are: the growth of the intensity of unfavorable climatic processes; a dangerous increase in geophysical activity, including seismic, volcanic, gravimagnetic and geodynamic; an unexpected increase in the frequency of powerful storm processes in the atmosphere and in the oceanic environment; unpredictable fluctuations in solar activity, temperature, groundwater levels, expansion of areas and areas of major floods; a dangerous increase in rainfall intensity in some regions and dry spells in others. Along with this, natural disasters accompanying and synchronous with them are observed: dangerous and unexpected fluctuations in the international and regional financial and economic situation and in the volume of world trade; alarming outbreaks of regional conflicts, an increase in the intensity of terrorist activities and an increase in the adoption of inadequate geopolitical decisions; dangerous epidemic, psych pathogenic and social processes...
Brushes rhythmically remove drizzle. Travelers barely tolerate each other up to three turrets.
- We've arrived, - the guest is the first to break the silence, fussily opens the door, casually throwing it over his shoulder, - thank you, bye.
And Svetoslav again gets into a traffic jam.
Chapter two. Stratification of love.
Glory was never late. There, behind the walls of the office, society - its field of activity, its bread, mind and conscience - is waiting to be studied. Waiting for help and correction from him.
Slava was never late for this chaotic unpredictable month until he saw her: a thirty-year-old naive beauty that seemed perfect. Filled with a hitherto unknown meaning and completeness of the harmony of forms, words, movements. And all the bohemia of diamonds of fifty years of knowledge shattered unexpectedly cruelly before her, shattered strangely without falling, hanging around like cheap glass fragments on the Christmas tree of the soul...
- Tell me your name, - the elegant girl asks, dropping her professionally preoccupied eyes into long lists, full of inaccessibility and detachment.
“Svetoslav Petrovitch,” he says to her, for some reason in a guilty voice, feeling completely mediocre, “Bolshakov.
- Bolshakov ... Bolshakov. Bashlyk, Bathymeter, - the accountant grumbles under his breath, - Bolsheviks?
“Bolshakov,” he says patiently once more, bitterly offended, humiliated, flushed with excitement.
- And here, Bolshakov. Sign.
He receives the money, remembering that this is the third time he introduced himself to her, but she did not remember either her first name or last name. Who is Bolshakov for her? A line from a long list of sociological departments for an advance or salary. Not counting the hundreds in the pack, Slava leaves a box of "Assorted" on the table. The diva smiles sourly, dousing her pupils with icy indifference, and immediately lowers her eyes, infected by his guilt, refuses:
- Thank you, but this is completely unnecessary, - he puts the box on top of a stack of the same or other boxes of sweets. And mechanically raises his eyes to the next sociologist:
- Your First Name Last Name? ...
Today is pay day.
And I want to say something else. But how? So what? Behind the back is tormented by impatience queue.
All his professional fame is zero. All his pride is nonsense. Two dissertations on a topic necessary for the country do not work here, in the zone of CHANGES. The fact that he can influence society remains a reality in any area, but not in this one. In this one, he is nobody!
Glory goes along a long corridor with numerous doors, where he worked most of his life. He thinks that fame can never be too much. There is not much money. Authorities. And knowledge.
If we consider the structure of society according to stratification, then social differentiation and inequality will be clearly visible on the basis of such criteria as social prestige, self-identification, profession, income, education, participation in power relations, etc. People are unequal from birth. And sometimes they become unequal due to their personal qualities, or luck.
Inequality is a specific form of social differentiation, in which individual individuals, strata, classes are at different levels of the vertical social hierarchy, have unequal life chances and opportunities. The inequality of distances between statuses is the main property of stratification. She has four measuring rulers, or coordinate axes. All of them are located vertically and next to each other: income, power, education, prestige.
People don't have much money. Little knowledge. Little glory. Little power.
And there is never too much love. It is given exactly as much as God measures. Or how long our heart can take. And here the question arises - do we love the rich? No. Do we love those who have power over us? Also no. Do we love the “very educated”? Yes, but not really. Do we love the prestigious, constantly given to us as an example by the central TV, such as Zverev or Kirkorov? God forbids!
But then a person appears, one might say at the last stage of life. Before which all this pales. Love is beyond verticals. Out of horizontal lines. Out of politics. And it seems to be out of time.
How to become unequal in love, but the highest authority in the heart? Specifically selected heart. The only heart. How? My God, how?
Slava did not want to think about the past, and about what kind of women he had before. There was a wife and two children. And now - five years of almost loneliness. Almost ascetic. To primitivism! To parasitism over oneself. Only work. Job. Job. Candidate. Then a doctorate. Is it possible to fall in love at fifty? Yes, the light is dimming. And sick of him, from the white light is done?
On the street - unnecessary snow. Not the first. Nobody was waiting for him. "And he stuck." The forecast promised rain. And in general, both television and radio crackled about global warming. The Internet was full of articles about the flood, and about the planet causing the flood and some other nonsense. Although who expects rain in Moscow in December? But still, by and large, no one prepared for the snow like that. No janitors. No cleaning services. Neither the administration. Nor motorists, "using" on bald summer tires.
And he? An adult, smart and big man? Honored and recognized. He forgot that love is even possible. And I didn't prepare. And I didn't wait. What to do with it now, as with unexpected salt-blackened snow? Although he did not expect the withering of the soul either. Who at fifty is waiting to fade?
He stopped in the hallway and looked out the window.
Tears stung in the eyes. Tears? Does he know how to cry? Brush it off quickly so that no one sees this unforgivable stupidity! Here's another!
An unprepared soul for a new feeling, or maybe vice versa, anxiously waiting for it for a long time, like a fallow field waiting for fat grains, burned and torn. Slava wanted to share this anxiety with someone. With whom? With Mother? God forbid! With sister? Will not understand. With daughter? Well, that's completely impossible. Friends? But he doesn’t have any such friends to whom he could open his soul. Only acquaintances, colleagues and so-called “contacts” needed for work are “crammed into the mobile phone” with lines of dubious relevance.
Then he realized the truth. You can share spiritual experiences only with those people whom you love deeply and sincerely. And he made another discovery - and yet he does not love anyone except the one who remained behind the doors of the accounting department. Nobody! Somewhere far away - children. Further, the wife. Even further than the wife is the mother. Talking about his father is stupid - he did not remember him. Not that: loved - did not love.
Then he thought about yesterday's conversation with a strange stranger, Yuri Vsevolodovich. Probably, Slava, irritated by straightforward allusions to his relationship with his mother, and indeed with his whole life, offended him yesterday.
However, the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared.
At home, on the Internet, Slava typed in the website of his own department, from which he moved to accounting. Here she is, Dorozhkina Vera Anatolyevna. Copied email address and name. I found her house in "contacts". Divorced. No kids. Three photographs failed. That is, completely bad, not conveying the charm of the person he has chosen.
The snow was falling softly outside the window. White-white. Revealing each iridescent snowflake on the windowsill of Glory. Snow was completely oblivious to the fact that no one needed him, and it seemed that he was tenderly peacefully pleased with himself.

Chapter two. Stratification of love.
Glory was never late. There, behind the walls of the office, society - its field of activity, its bread, mind and conscience - is waiting to be studied. Waiting for help and correction from him.
Slava was never late for this chaotic unpredictable month until he saw her: a thirty-year-old naive beauty that seemed perfect. Filled with a hitherto unknown meaning and completeness of the harmony of forms, words, movements. And all the bohemia of diamonds of fifty years of knowledge shattered unexpectedly cruelly before her, shattered strangely without falling, hanging around like cheap glass fragments on the Christmas tree of the soul...
- Tell me your name, - the elegant girl asks, dropping her professionally preoccupied eyes into long lists, full of inaccessibility and detachment.
“Svetoslav Petrovich,” he says to her, for some reason in a guilty voice, feeling completely mediocre, “Bolshakov.
- Bolshakov ... Bolshakov. Bashlykov, Bakhmetiev, - the accountant grumbles under his breath, - Bolsheviks?
“Bolshakov,” he says patiently once more, bitterly offended, humiliated, flushed with excitement.
- And here, Bolshakov. Sign.
He receives the money, remembering that this is the third time he introduced himself to her, but she did not remember either her first name or last name. Who is Bolshakov for her? A line from a long list of sociological departments for an advance or salary. Not counting the hundreds in the pack, Slava leaves a box of "Assorted" on the table. The diva smiles sourly, dousing her pupils with icy indifference, and immediately lowers her eyes, infected by his guilt, refuses:
- Thank you, but this is completely unnecessary, - he puts the box on top of a stack of the same or other boxes of sweets. And mechanically raises his eyes to the next sociologist:
- Your First Name Last Name? ...
Today is payday.
And I want to say something else. But how? So what? Behind the back is tormented by impatience queue.
All his professional fame is zero. All his pride is nonsense. Two dissertations on a topic necessary for the country do not work here, in the zone of CHANGES. The fact that he can influence society remains a reality in any area, but not in this one. In this one, he is nobody!
Glory goes along a long corridor with numerous doors, where he worked most of his life. He thinks that fame can never be too much. There is not much money. Authorities. And knowledge.
If we consider the structure of society according to stratification, then social differentiation and inequality will be clearly visible based on such criteria as social prestige, self-identification, profession, income, education, participation in power relations, etc. People are unequal from birth. And sometimes they become unequal due to their personal qualities, or luck.
Inequality is a specific form of social differentiation, in which individual individuals, strata, classes are at different levels of the vertical social hierarchy, have unequal life chances and opportunities. The inequality of distances between statuses is the main property of stratification. She has four measuring rulers, or coordinate axes. All of them are located vertically and next to each other: income, power, education, prestige.
People don't have much money. Little knowledge. Little glory. Little power.
And there is never too much love. It is given exactly as much as God measures. Or how long our heart can take. And here the question arises - do we love the rich? No. Do we love those who have power over us? Also no. Do we love the “very educated”? Yes, but not really. Do we love the prestigious, constantly given to us as an example by the central TV, such as Zverev or Kirkorov? God forbids!
But then a person appears, one might say at the last stage of life. Before which all this pales. Love is beyond verticals. Out of horizontal lines. Out of politics. And it seems to be out of time.
How to become unequal in love, but the highest authority in the heart? Specifically
chosen heart. The only heart. How? My God, how?
Slava did not want to think about the past, and about what kind of women he had before. There was a wife and two children. And now - five years of almost loneliness. Almost ascetic. To primitivism! To parasitism over oneself. Only work. Job. Job. Candidate. Then a doctorate. Is it possible to fall in love at fifty? Yes, the light is dimming. And sick of him, from the white light is done?
On the street - unnecessary snow. Not the first. Nobody was waiting for him. "And he stuck." The forecast promised rain. And in general, both television and radio crackled about global warming. The Internet was full of articles about the flood, and about the planet causing the flood and some other nonsense. Although who expects rain in Moscow in December? But still, by and large, no one prepared for the snow like that. No janitors. No cleaning services. Neither the administration. Nor motorists, "using" on bald summer tires.
And he? An adult, smart and big man? Honored and recognized. He forgot that love is even possible. And I didn't prepare. And I didn't wait. What to do with it now, as with unexpected salt-blackened snow? Although he did not expect the withering of the soul either. Who at fifty is waiting to fade?
He stopped in the hallway and looked out the window.
Tears stung in the eyes. Tears? Does he know how to cry? Brush it off quickly so that no one sees this unforgivable stupidity! Here's another!
An unprepared soul for a new feeling, or maybe vice versa, anxiously waiting for it for a long time, like a fallow field waiting for fat grains, burned and torn. Slava wanted to share this anxiety with someone. With whom? With Mother? God forbids! With sister? Will not understand. With daughter? Well, that's completely impossible. Friends? But he doesn’t have any such friends to whom he could open his soul. Only acquaintances, colleagues and so-called “contacts” needed for work are “crammed into the mobile phone” with lines of dubious relevance.

Then he realized the truth. You can share spiritual experiences only with those people whom you love deeply and sincerely. And he made another discovery - and yet he does not love anyone except the one who remained behind the doors of the accounting department. Nobody! Somewhere far away - children. Further, the wife. Even further than the wife is the mother. Talking about his father is stupid - he did not remember him. Not that: loved - did not love.
Then he thought about yesterday's conversation with a strange stranger, Yuri Vsevolodovich. Probably, Slava, irritated by straightforward allusions to his relationship with his mother, and indeed with his whole life, offended him yesterday.
However, the thought vanished as quickly as it appeared.
At home, on the Internet, Slava typed on the website of his own department, from which he moved to accounting. Here she is, Dorozhkina Vera Anatolyevna. Copied email address and name. I found her house in "contacts". Divorced. No kids. Three photographs failed. That is, completely bad, not conveying the charm of the person he has chosen.
The snow was falling softly outside the window. White, white. Revealing each iridescent snowflake on the windowsill of Glory. Snow was completely oblivious to the fact that no one needed him, and it seemed that he was tenderly peacefully pleased with himself.


Chapter three. Matrices.
Sociological research led Svetoslav Petrovich to a nearby institute for a seminar by Professor Yu.V. Lebedev "On the correction of the categorical and mental base and bioenergetic potential."
Slava came, as always before, and took the most convenient place of observation in the hall. I looked with interest at the colored graphs in the form of circles at the exhibition preceding the lectures.
Five minutes before the start of the event, the hall began to fill with colleagues.
He recognized the lecturer, who came to the nearest second, by his suit and characteristic eyebrows.
- Matrices are one of the forms of psychographic modeling, - Yuri Vsevolodovich rushed right off the bat, - They are integral projections of the fractal-raster and tunnel-borehole nature of sensory-conceptual visual archetypes. In the matrices presented at this exhibition, basic images are folded and repeatedly reflected in polar coordinates with the addition of information, defining signs processed in special computer programs. Harmonizing graphic "matrices" have already been developed, similar to circular diagrams, which allow for attunement, according to the personal characteristics of the iris and the psych type of a person. Actually, if you have questions, you can ask them right away.
- Is it possible to change the world at all, Yuri Vsevolodovich? Good afternoon, - Slava betrayed his presence, - I'm talking about a sore point. About the eternal. About love and friendship.
- Elementary, my friend. Elementary. Matrices are samples of processes and intentions of a new level entity. The upper part of the forehead - four points in a row - these are the entrances to the awareness of tunnel perception ... The matrices correspond to the movement along these channels of space-time, they are its projections. When these areas are discharged, the brain is free to see any point in history and remake it. It's like upbringing and learning very fast.
Can love to be taught? Does it lend itself to any logic at all? Analysis?
- Love can be simulated. But she can be remembered. Perception of it can be returned through time.
- Nonsense, - Slava's neighbor whispered.
- Nu why same delirium?! - I heard, and Yuri Vsevolodovich was offended. - Psychographic matrices can be archaic, archetypal, or esoteric, that is, inspired by ancient knowledge and images. These are amplifiers, activators of the "universal spin" of the mental activity of the brain, movement and accumulation of mental energy, these are optimizers and concentrators of visually fixed information.
- Psychology is so diverse that it is difficult to talk about generalizations, - Slava tried to understand the topic.
             - Psychographic matrices are individual in nature, they can be created for everyone. They help the subject to normalize relations with the urbanized environment and solve bioenergetic, psychological and social problems, at the same time, matrices correct functional, vegetative disorders, emotional and mental activity of the subject, by expanding the possibilities of self-regulation and excitation of additional information-energy "shells and channels". ". Psychographics can support you in the individual Evolution of your consciousness on the path of personal progress, specifically yours, for example, - bowed in response to Slava YurVedych.
Slava listened to the rest of the lecture and did not listen at the same time. It happened often. The brain blocked the flow of information. And everything is here. In addition, indignation and even resentment against YurVedich grew. And again rejection, as for the first time. Well, why was rejection born again and again? Thank after all asked simply about love. And what did this popular science Vedych Vsevedich answer? Love, what, in his opinion, is the individual Evolution of your consciousness on the path of personal progress or what? How can it be strengthened or reduced, by an activator of the “universal spin” of the mental activity of the brain, by the movement and accumulation of mental energy, or by an optimizer and concentrator of visually fixed information? How can one take and stick to his kind Verochka Anatolyevna Dorozhkina integral projections of the fractal-raster and tunnel-borehole nature of sensory-conceptual visual archetypes? How can it be called the coordinate of the base image with the addition of information, defining signs?
No. He understood, of course, that his love can be depicted as individual harmonizing graphic "matrices", like circular diagrams, which allow attunement, according to the personal characteristics of the iris and the person's psych type, her psych type, Vera's psych type. But will it work?
- By the way, thank you for giving me a ride yesterday, - YurVedych came up to Slava at the buffet table with a glass of champagne, and deliberately clinked glasses.
- Yesterday? Slava was surprised.
- Well, somewhere like that, - the professor answered in his own way.
- You know, YurVedych, I'm in trouble, - Slava admitted without much preamble, swallowing the contents of the glass.
“I know you imagine too much of yourself,” the strange professor's eyebrows smiled again. And it aroused sympathy.
- You see. I am fifty. Yes?
- It's clear. What about her?
- How did you guess?
- Oh, it's worse than I thought, - YurVedich poured another glass. - What do you need from me? Matrices won't help here. If you are talking about matrices.
- What will help?
- So seriously?
- Seriously…
- My colleagues? May I request the hall's help? - Yuri Vsevolodovich unexpectedly loudly recited, - If you are on the verge of spiritual and physical withering, what can help a young lady fall in love with you?
Animation swept through the buffet hall. Who smiled, who laughed, thinking that this was a joke, some shouted:
- Bathing in boiling milk!
Slava flared up, turned around sharply, and headed for the exit, waving his hand at all this disgrace.
YurVedych caught up with him only at the car:
- Will you give me a lift, chief? - and out of habit, without any permission, he plopped down next to Glory in the sheep's pile of the seat.
- I'll give you a ride ... how ... - Svetoslav grumbled, - Why are you here? Decided to mock again?
Yes, I know the remedy. I know, - YurVedych dumbfounded him. - In order to attract the interest of the opposite sex, who does not pay attention to you, as, well, in short, as a male, you need ... Why is your car not starting?
- She has character. It will not start if a harmful person sits down.
- So I'm useful.
- Is not a fact.
The motor, contrary to the owner, immediately wound up smoothly and calmly.
- Okay, let's go. So what should be done? Slava asked more peacefully, but still with irritation.
- Approach and ... whisper ...
- And?... - Slava imitated, losing his patience.
- Say the name of God.
- What if I'm an atheist?
-It's also a religion.
They had already left the highway when they started talking again. This time the movement was not impeded, and, having come up with the three turrets, YurVedich raised his eyebrows instructively:
- You see, colleague, our knowledge is not comprehensive, and even sketchy in some areas. Have you heard that God is love?
Glory was silent. The car stopped. But YurVedich was not going to leave.
- OK then. Do you know about mirrors? About the multiplication of light by an incandescent mirror? Passion can also be increased.
The driver couldn't resist. He went out himself and opened the door to the professor, showing with all his appearance that the conversation was over.
Slamming the door with an unacceptable loudness, the car jerked and strangely jumped from its place, sharply picking up speed.
- Say the name of God! - the disembarked passenger shouted after her, - Just name it!
On the seat, Slava found a business card, but was so angry that he threw it out the window.

Chapter Four. Gelendzhik syndrome.
Elections were not expected. The sad fact that wastepaper collection points live from election to election, and social services too, has been confirmed once again. They suddenly took leave. Svetoslav Petrovitch was simply put before a fact. Got the ticket right away. No queue. No problem. Who needs Gelendzhik in winter?
Slava was chattering in the reserved seat car, as if he was riding a cart. The driver was found to be cheerful and, most likely, judging by the set of songs pestering passengers from the loudspeaker, he was of the same age as Slava. Does he play vinyl records there or what?
"Here's a ballet ticket.
There is no ticket for the tram...
What it meant now for the passenger - there is no ticket for love and happiness.
Slava's companions were indifferent. You can see right through each of them. Oh, I managed to choose the profession of a sociologist! They did not have time to think, as Slava knew what they would do.
Now the man in the lower seat will wipe his bald head, close the page with the solved crossword puzzle and go out to smoke in the vestibule; the girl will ask for another blanket, because the train has turned left side to the leeward side, and the plump madam will take a wild-smelling chicken out of her bag, get off at the bus stop and buy some boiled potatoes or ice cream.
It all happened. From this it ached somewhere in the right lower region of the neck. Here is sadness!
Predictability gave rise to a decline in interest in everything that happened.
Have you ever enjoyed a vacation?
And why the hell did he surrender to him now?
And what, you order, to do if you do not go to Gelendzhik? Go to accounting? Fail (which is obvious, and it makes no sense to even try to change something).
So now run through the coals of spiritual longing to the monotonous tapping of wheels. I wonder what they are still knocking about.
The sea breeze of the embankment dispelled boring thoughts a little. The sand, whipped up by the winter winds, looked like the fur of a bear that had faded over the summer. From the former bustling points of sale, female mannequins with rumpled breasts stared in his direction, poetically senselessly. Unsold swimming trunks survived on the men.
Svetoslav bought them, changed clothes. On one hazard he entered the icy sea. Sailed to the buoy and back.
Cheered up. And then what to do?
Winter Gelendzhik was completely different from summer, seasonal. How his twenty did not resemble his fifty. Visitors - units. Empty streets. The helpfulness of local residents has acquired a different vector. Sadness on the faces of the townspeople. Such mortal anguish, as if Slava took and multiplied into thousands of these people, dressing their bodies or settling in mannequins with rumpled chests. And longing remained in empty plastic eyes.
Having chosen a successful view, Slava settled down on a bench next to a man in gray reading a newspaper, watching the sea sunset.
- It's called the Gelendzhik syndrome, - the man turned out to be Professor Lebedev.
Glory's eyes widened. Again YurVedich??? Here? How did he get here?
- What else a syndrome?
- Well, that's how it's supposed to be. Popularly speaking, when there are a lot of vacationers, the residents, serving them, make money. As soon as the season passes, everyone falls into the deepest depressions.
- What am I doing here?
- Your depression is even worse. Arrived on vacation? Lebedev asked in the meantime.
- I arrived.
- As in that joke: Do you like warm vodka? No. And the women are sweaty? Also no. Excellent. You will go on vacation in February. Ha-ha-ha, - YurVedych laughed.
- Not funny, - Slava turned away towards the sea.
- Why?
- Already thirty years, how not funny.



Chapter five. Sword of Tamerlane.
For a quarter of a century, Professor Lebedev was followed not only by the KGB, the intelligence of the Mossad and the CIA. The contactee also came under the supervision of other civilizations.
Sitting in an office with people in strict suits and impeccable plain ties, as if the Papuans of Guinea Bissau were turning them and people and suits and especially ties with blunt elementary stone cutters, Lebedev became uneasy from the straightforwardness of the orders:
- That is, you want to say that you can not get a few hundred years ago? - dispassionately, as if he had the right to do so, interrogated the most important of them, therefore the most demanding. However, he did not introduce himself. Or maybe he introduced himself, but YurVedich did not remember what to call him.
- What nonsense you are talking about, - the contacted could not stand it. “Of course, I can go back ten thousand years. And twenty. And a million, if you like. But why? Target?
- Sword of Tamerlane. To make sure we are dealing with a specialist. And then we'll see.
Yes, I saw your sword. And I know exactly where he is. Why do you need him? You don't have to touch him. The time has not come.
- You bring the sword, and we'll figure it out ourselves.
- Strange you ... people. Well, they know nothing about the processes of eternity and life! In Japan, they say this: "If the sword is taken out of its sheath, it must taste the blood"! And rightly so, by the way!
- In terms of?
- Nothing from the past can be taken here into the future! Nothing but thoughts! Visions. words! Understandable or not clear?
- Uncle, don't talk to us with your teeth, - unexpectedly, in Russian slang, the deputy chief intervened, who also did not introduce himself. Stepped menacingly forward to the professor.
But he was stopped with a glance by two who held an energy barrier on the sides of YurVedych, competently taking the zone of influence into a semicircle.
- Phew! How difficult it is to negotiate with people who are incompetent in the bioenergetics of the universal matrix!
- And you explain popularly. We will understand.
- Understand?
“Uh,” the people in dull suits stared with a patient nod.
- To get into the past, you need to make a bridge forward. And back to the present.
- Why?
- Without feedback from the future, there is no present, there is no control over the objective course of Life on the planet without managing the current existence of mankind.
- In my opinion, he was too smart ... - the deputy took a step forward again.
- Let him speak! interrupted the leader. - Go on, professor.
- In the absence of feedback from oneself in the future, a person often gets hurt due to karmic mistakes.
- Painfully? - the new word obviously surprised the interlocutor, and so gave out with giblets. - Mankind is young and arrogant, therefore it is not “finished” to the world order and does not control even half of its life processes.
- Exactly, - YurVedych confirmed, - Because of what it cannot build up to its present from the subjectively "correctly chosen past" and, being content with bits of memories, rushes forward, not sorting out the road ...
- Good. Let's correct this. We need information. The name of the operation is "Sword of Tamerlane". You are in the past. The chrono magnetic corrective pulse observation control center empowers you to change the effect of the distortion of the projected events of the last quarter of the twentieth century, and then a slight drift of conditions in the two biospheres of the first and second Earth, which led to a sharp warming of the climate and the throw of a psychogenetic mutation. Are you ready to investigate the Abyss from our laboratory?
- I need an assistant, - YurVedich answered, tired of resisting.
- Next time.
There was nothing so supernatural about the Abyss Travel Room. Table. Chair. Couch. The seemingly solid wall is actually a large contacted monitoring screen.
- It's not good, - Lebedev tried to get out of control, - it turns out better in the wild.
- Relax, - the last thing he heard when he got on the couch, - after the session, erase his memory.
But everything did not go the way the people in stupid suits ordered, but the way he wanted. Lebedev saw the coordinates of the place where the pulse hit. Observation along the runway front: West - USA - Houston - Center - Asia - Iraq - Kuwait - East - coast of Australia ... Failure for a hundred years. A hundred more... The room where armed warriors ritually place the legendary Sword of Tamerlane... A thousand years into the past. Egypt... Then a deeper fall. YurVedych monkey, Buddha's favorite monkey ...
Railway station. Sheremetyevo airport terminal. And, it seems, he returned completely to the place of the last contact. Yes, and materialized in his body. This is luck. Yes, what luck? – Professionalism!
Now you need to run away. Fly away from people in perfectly tailored suits. They will be on Earth for a couple more days. Definitely! Then they either self-destruct or teleport back where they came from. You have to switch somewhere. And where?
Grab your tickets right now! To Siberia! To the Ural! Yes. To the Ural! Lebedev cold-bloodedly dials the first city he comes across in the information machine.
Panic breaks out at the airport. The dropout tabloid went berserk. The professor looked around for the entrance to the subway. Blue signs flashed on all sides: "NO ENTRANCE!" and "NO EXIT!"
The loudspeaker's voice suddenly changed from an impassive female to a vicious baritone:
- The flight to Yekaterinburg has been cancelled.
And then growled menacingly:
- FOREVER AND EVER!!!
Lebedev almost jumped. He, realizing who this attack was addressed to, rushed to the checkpoint, miraculously slipped past the stewardesses, literally dived into the first small plane that came across, taxiing onto the runway.
The liner began to gain altitude.
- How did you get here? - Perplexed, the co-pilot exclaimed, finding the "hare" on board.
- A miracle.
- Stop car. We land!
- Do not dare! YurVedich suddenly bristles with his eyebrows.
With his hand, he gave the command to the liner to rise sharply. The plane is listening. Then the professor's hand drops. And the plane descends into an unacceptably dangerous zone.
What does this madman need? - the pilot shouts, drowning out the roar of the engine.
- Where did you fly? - answers YurVedych with a question.
- To the Black Sea. Krasnodar.
- Continue the flight without losing your course - Lebedev in complete impotence falls into the passenger seat.

Chapter six. Conversation with the elements.
And here they are together on a bench, watching the sea in Gelendzhik, shrouded in a blues syndrome, understanding that “harmonious” people, sullenly obsessively offering them chilled Turkish peaches with malicious hopelessness, make the world one big nightmare.
- Matryoshka! Daresay! - shouts a Caucasian who has collected empty boxes in a cart with an unthinkably huge pagoda and is trying to crawl with it into the "eye of a needle" of the sidewalk.
Svetoslav Petrovic and Yuri Vsevolodovich are silent for a long time, listening to the cries of frenzied hungry gulls and the monotonous rolling of the waves.
Why don't you ask anything? - YurVedich does not stand the first.
“You might think you know everything,”- Slava chuckled.
- All, not all, but I know something about anyone.
- The name of God, for example?
- It's complicated.
- That's what I'm saying.
The sun slowly hangs over the horizon with sovereign love. Its light is fixed in the eyes, in the brain and heart, completely burning out the inner negativity. The sea, pungently smelling of sweet fresh herring, moving and alive, gradually changes the saturation of light and air. He calls to himself, promising unity with the world of the universe, affirming and confirming the unsurpassed perfection of truth with every wave. “The sea is a mystery,” Slava thinks, “And love is a mystery. And every person who gives birth to thoughts ... "
"And you don't wonder how I ended up here?" the professor continues.
- Not at all. You're not a minister to go on vacation in the summer.
- This is true. What if I'm not on vacation?
Well, not because of me.
- Not because of you. Due to current in the present magneto-dynamic short-term transients. But I found you by energy radiation. It is not hard.
- What do you want to fray in a language inaccessible to society? Come on another time, colleague. I'd rather talk to the elements. - Slava got up and walked away, defiantly taking off his shoes and socks and splashing on the cold evening sand in the oncoming ice waves.
Lebedev, after a little hesitation, did the same. Raised the collar to keep the sea spray out. And almost immediately he caught up with Svetoslav on the shore, ridiculously fluffing his figure with shoes, socks on the sides and rolled up trousers.
- Good wine should be sold in that kiosk. I’ll treat you, - he offered peacefully, pulling out an impressive jar of caviar from his jacket. - I think so: caviar can be black. If only the bread was white ...
- Here, bore, - Slava smiled, - come on. Where is your wine?
By three o'clock in the morning, not at all intoxicated, they were already quite friendly arguing about information injection, intergalactic control systems and correction of biomagnetic fields.
- Enough. I'm going crazy now, - Slava could not stand it after the professor's story about the alien device, which is located on the floor between the two deputy presidents in the White House, and transmits information to the future.
- Why? the professor was surprised. - You do not believe me?
- I believe. But you said so many strange things. Teleportation. Aliens. Plates. Some kind of nightmare. Right inside it gets colder, and there is a desire to bend down, - Slava was drawn to tell about his experiences, but he still did not dare.
- Without emotions, colleague.
- Why?
- Emotions are the enemy of information.
- Excellent. So love is the enemy of information! By the way, brilliant idea. And by the way, for that matter, what information do you want from me? I thought that all Professor Lebedev was interested in was to spend a couple of nights in a modest sociologist's room on the seashore, so that the "men in suits" would not force him to travel back in time with an incomprehensible goal for him.
- This is true. But there is one more small detail, - pouring the last wine into glasses, the professor said.
- Which?
- You must name the name of God and thereby win the heart of your beauty.
- Well, have it!
   Well, name it!
- What to call?
- Name! Name!
- Here you are again for yours! I don't have to say that name. And you!
- YurVedych, I'm drunk, but not to that extent. How can I call the name of God if I do not know him?
- So, what could be easier? Find out!
- No, you're completely cuckoo? Sometimes it's just impossible to talk to you. Break a stool about you or what?
- You don't need a stool. For love?
- For love!
The last glasses left without a snack, because the caviar, carefully divided into one loaf, ran out.
- Be popular. And no quirks. How to understand you? - Slava squeezed his temples with his palms in order to better perceive the "nonsense" of the professor, who did not keep him waiting.
- Have you heard anything about the legend about the Name of God? Whoever calls him will rule the world.
- Masonic philosophy. Templars. Rosicrucians. Order of Malta. Of course I heard. Count Osterman Tolstoy in "War and Peace" has the whole second part about this: "Adonai is the name of the one who created the world. Elohim is the name of the ruler of all. The third name, the inexpressible name, having the meaning of ALL "... is not specifically named in the novel. But it is the main thing.
- Well, that's not true. That is, not quite right. You see, Slava, everyone has his own God, like his own genetic code. You have one sea. I have another. You have one world. I have another one. You have one mother, I have another. It's clear?
- For now, yes.
- Excellent. Let's go further. What do you think is the most important thing on earth in this situation?
- Life.
- Nonsense.
- Love.
- Brad.
- What then?
- Word! In this case, the name.
- The name of God?
- Now you are moving in the right direction. If this is clear, let's move on. Take the well-known denominations. Well, call! What is the God of Christians?
- Jesus Christ! Yes, what are you doing me like a little one?
- Do not be angry. I want you to understand. Buddhists have a Buddha. Correctly. The Hare Krishnas has Krishna. And so on. Businessmen have Mammon with dollars instead of eyes. The atheists?
- ... communism?
- Something like that. Do you remember the slogans?
Slava laughed.
- What are you, drunk or what?
- No, I remembered a joke. A hunter comes home from the Far North and tells his people: It turns out that Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels are not four people, but two. And Glory to the CPSU is not a person at all!
- Voodoos! Finally, it hit! Fetish is the name of God. Fetish! For young people - Michael Jackson and Elvis Presley - for the elderly - God save the king.
- And for me?
Well, you don't love your mother...
- Why do you think so?
- Yes, you haven’t called her for three years already ... But something is spinning somewhere nearby. Maybe a grandmother? ... No. Not that. You are not a father... So. Close your eyes and focus on the brightest word you've heard in your life. Just focus. I'm not asking you to remember. Imagine. From what joy overflowed in the heart?
  - From black caviar, - Slava joked, - where did you get it?
- She accidentally flew into the fish warehouse. Grabbed a couple of jars. Do not die of hunger. All. I'm serious. Close your eyes. Now I'll clap my hands, and you'll go! Let's!
Glory closed his eyes. Darkness. Only the sound of the sea. The cry of the seagulls. Then suddenly a failure. Bright sunlight. Green hills of the village. Mother!
He flinched at the pop, driving away the vision.
- What did you see?
- Childhood.
What year, do you remember?
- Not.

- What right now?
- Well, yes. Name the exact date.
- Do you think I remember?
- Place of burial?
Probably in the village...
- Probably, - mimicked the professor, - in the village ... How hard it is to work with the profane!

Chapter seven. Saints.
The rickety church was run by a pop drunk. All the locals knew that he was a drunkard: both the angry grandfather Alexei, a former cop in faded clothes, and three or four surviving grannies, who, with some kind of fidelity inexplicable for civilization, take care of their gardens, and a couple of their relatives, time visiting the old village from time to time.
There were also new cottages of Muscovites. But they behaved as in Moscow, they did not go to church on holidays. Hiding behind fences. And besides, they threw plastic bags, bottles and other abominations from foreign cars into the roadside, and sometimes right onto the road, completely sure that the mayor’s garbage team would come here to the forest after them, waving 150 kilometers from the Moscow Ring Road, and collect everything that was sketched.
Pop drank because there was no one to talk to in this wilderness. What could, for example, understand even in such elementary concepts as Vernadsky's cosmism, Grandfather Alexei, or a few surviving local women who did not study anything except the compulsory school curriculum thirty or forty years ago? What could one talk about with summer residents, clearly divided into two castes - men and women. Did men keep a close eye on the latest reports of sporting events, and women - on a series of adventures of never-ending series? This quintessence of “chewed and digestible” thoughts was regularly broadcast on all TV and radio channels, like an obligatory daily drink for cattle, stupidly advancing to the churchyard all their lives, so that the masses would even forget that there is an opportunity to reach out to His Majesty the Divine Book …
The village cemetery was no different from the rest. The graves, in which the lucky ones who had close relatives rested, flourished, the rest were overgrown with a two-meter wormwood. And now all this overgrown was still littered up to the waist with snow.
It never occurred to any of the locals to wander around the necropolis. Especially at night. And especially in winter. Easter is a different matter. And now…
Powdered firs. Fallen untidy forest. A blizzard of snow, flying almost horizontally, lashed back and forth over white birch trees and white roofs, where people hid from the winter cold, over tufts of black grass sticking out from under the white snow. Weeds and nettles held firm, accustomed to such treatment. But YurVedych and Slava, very lightly dressed, turned out to be quite out of place under a cracked wooden crucifix, they felt uncomfortable.
The snow climbed into the shoes, and froze, as the sea waves had recently froze. White-blue snowdrifts in the light of the moon and a dim, dangling light bulb at the entrance to the church, tried to envelop, and cover with a deadly shroud, every hillock or fence, every cross or pebble. The wind howled. Jackets instantly covered with snow dust. Somewhere a cat was yelling, as if March was just around the corner.
Choo-choo-vit! Choo-choo-vit! - a winter bird crossed the road.
- Chetrit! Choric! another picked up.
- Well, lead! What was her name, do you remember? YurVedich twitched.
- Ekaterina Lavrentievna Konyukhova. From the gate - the third from the left.
But the tombstone was not in the right place.
- In vain I gave you wine to drink, - YurVedych said, tired of the fruitless shoveling of snow on the graves.
- You think I'm drunk? Her cross is pine. I remember exactly.
- Wooden crosses do not live more than ten years. They are not people!
- What were you waiting for? Noble tomb? Carved stone inscriptions? marble angels? You have to be simpler - and the people will be drawn to you, - Svetoslav Petrovich flared up.
- I don't want to be simpler. And you don't have to reach out to me. What we are going to do?
- There are such books, - Bolshakov nodded at the church, - Saints, it seems. Everything is written in them.
White stripes of snow on the wires, as it were, indicated the right path. The windows of the church, adorned with shutters carved with mermaids, glowed with a faint light.
They began, actively working with their elbows, to knock on the massive doors, more after all, to keep warm. But the doors were open.
Slava had not been here for a long time, but he recognized everything at once. After all, nothing has changed in 45 years. Oak parquet floor, crushed by visitors. Door arches to the right and left, behind which shelves with books are visible to the very vault. The candles are burning. Lots of candles. Why are they burning? Who is being warmed up?
- Wow! This is wealth! - YurVedych wiped his mustache from the melted snowflakes. - Books were rewritten before. You know? It was the most precious thing that was passed from father to son. And, if the manuscripts ended up in the church, the donor could ask for the eternal remembrance of his soul.
The gilded sacristy gleamed in the lamplight.
- Who is there? - a small, bald, freckled priest in a plain black cassock with a small cross on it came out to them. Slava recognized him. The same pop, the same cassock. The same cross.
- Good health, father! - took out a bottle of Krasnodar wine from his bosom, as if nothing had happened, the professor, and behind it he took out another jar of black caviar. - We are looking for a book where everything you wrote down. Saints. We should find out when she was buried...
- Konyukhova Ekaterina Lavrentievna. - Slava helped.
The priest accepted the gifts with a modest bow, invited him to the altar with his hand, and said, sucking in air out of habit, as if his jaw were in place:
- We'll look at it. Are you far away?
- Local, this is my grandmother. Slava answered.
- Ahh. That's what I look at, from a distance. Moises says from the road? - He raised the pop instead of a question a bottle. - Melania lepeSek davetsa baked. Taki with honey moszno.
“Thank you, Father Onufry,” Bolshakov answered, bowing awkwardly and clumsily.
Lebedev immediately tugged at his sleeve, whispering in his ear:
- We can not long! What are you, crazy?
- Must be respected. He's bored here, you know? Otherwise - write - they flew in vain. Bolshakov also whispered softly.
In the meantime, they followed the flying cassock of a toothless priest past hundreds of different icons, simple and stilted, which were darkening from the large and two frontal iconostases, as well as from the shelves and from all the walls of the church. The corridors were decorated with thin wooden columns carved by craftsmen in the form of temporary spirals. Somehow, the faces looked at home, peacefully meeting the newcomers.
- Well, - Lebedev agreed more peacefully. - The dome is strong. Made by the right architect. Fig his observers will break through!
- In terms of?
- In the sense that we are invisible to them in the bosom of the temple ...
Pop led them into a separate room, more like a library, where the lights were already on. And crackling with pleasure to feel their need, the fire squeaked in the furnace. The icons here were more valuable, dressed in silver robes and adorned with sloping pearls. Flies woke up from the heat, not yet realizing that it was not summer, they crawled sleepily over the glass.
 On the wooden table, Father Onufry quickly put bowls of honey and cakes from the windowsill. Three faceted glasses. He dressed his jaw, "armed to the teeth" with the ability to talk normally. Spilled the wine.
And, even though he was terribly anxious to talk with strangers, Onufry allowed himself to push this pleasant moment aside in order to put a jar of caviar in a table drawer.
Folding his hands like a house, he quickly read "Our Father" and invited the travelers to taste the treat.
When their eyes shone from simple church food, he asked:
- Konyukhova, you say?
- She died a long time ago. About forty years ago, - Slava answered, finishing the cake.
The clergyman took a dusty, thick handwritten book from an oak shelf and quickly found the date of Baba Katya's death.
- Eh, - Slava sighed, - now he lies without a cross ...
- You are the one to blame. - YurVedich noted, - Karma is the most complex law of the Universe, because it pierces, controls, and balances. Therefore, a person is both his own savior and his own executioner. It is impossible to escape responsibility.
- Blavatsky? - the pop raised his eyes from the book, and suddenly uttering the words clearly, as if along with the jaw, the clear phrases of modernity returned to him, - the Holy Church denies this!
- "Less ignorant denials!" Roerich claimed, - retorted the professor.
- Roerich is excommunicated, - the priest calmly nodded, chewing a tortilla.
- That's right, - Lebedev agreed, quoting verbatim, - He wrote that psychic energy is Everything. It lies at the basis of the manifestation of the world. And Helena Blavatsky asserted that "Man is God." This does not go against the gospel at all: “Jesus said: I and the Father are one. Here again the Jews seized stones to beat Him. Jesus answered them: I have shown you many good works from my Father; for which one do you want to stone me? The Jews answered him, “We do not stone you for a good deed, but for blasphemy, and because you, being a man, make yourself God.” Jesus answered them: Is it not written in your law: “I said, You are gods?” If He called those gods to whom the word of God came, and the Scripture cannot be violated, whether to him whom the Father has sanctified and sent into the world, you say: "You blaspheme," because I said: "I am the Son of God, I am and the Father are one? (Gospel of John 10:30-37.
- It is not your words that are sinful, my son, but your doubts.
- Sin is a manifestation of one's own internal laws, dear Father. In your opinion, do not kill and do not steal - this is an axiom. And in my opinion, do not kill unnecessarily and do not steal unnecessarily. For me, sin is ignorance of the laws of energy. For Glory - Gelendzhik syndrome.
- Sins, the most dangerous, - the priest shook his finger negatively, - I still think: Anger, Pride, Malice, Envy, Gluttony, Adultery. Despondency…
- Whoa! Correctly. Despondency, that is, weakness of the spirit. Therefore: sin is the anti-result! And the highest result, "The highest happiness is the transformation of man into God," said Giordano Bruno.
- For this he was burned at the stake, - retorted the priest.
- Yes, but my friend, you are missing the fact, - added Svetoslav Petrovich, - that three centuries later, on June 9, 1889, a monument was erected in Rome, on which was carved: “June 9th MDCLXXXIX. Giordano Bruno. From the century that he foresaw, in the place where the fire was lit.
The interlocutors carefully looked at Slava. But they didn't stop arguing.
“I am aware,” the father nodded. - And I also know that the great Max Handel allowed himself the imprudence to make the following statement: "It will not be a stretch to call a man God." And yet, “In the beginning was the word”, these truths of the Bible were confirmed by Handel at the beginning of the century: “The larynx will again pronounce the “lost Word”, “the creative Order”, which, under the guidance of the Great Teachers, was used in ancient Lemuria when creating plants and animals. A person will then be a true creator ...” The scientist, researcher, professor Krokhalev spoke about this in his speech at a seminar in Perm on August 12, 1996. He also argued that at the beginning of man's psychic energy was the word.
- Yes, but again you forget to consider the continuation of Gennady Pavlovich's statement: “I suppose that this “lost Word”, “creative Order” is the word “AUM”. And the Bible is a very mediocre translation from Greek, where “in the beginning was the word”, sounds like “logos”! And "logos" in Greek has a lot of meanings. Including: “word”, “thought”, “providing”, that is, at first there was a certain “project” - “GOD'S PROVISION”!
- Who is against, - the priest unexpectedly agreed. - A project is a project. Yes, and "Aum" - the same mantra, prayer!
Among other books in the meantime, Slava discovered the inscription on the spine "Hermes Trismegistus". Wow, the interests of the provincial father! Out of a childhood habit of guessing on interesting books, with the permission of the owner, he opened the volume in the middle and with surprise said aloud what he had read:
"GOD is immortal man, and man is mortal GOD."
- The trinity of the world: God the Father, God the son and God the holy spirit - never had in mind a person other than God the son!
- Hmm! - Lebedev folded his long eyebrows rather, - Hermes philosophy affirms the spiritual monism of the Universe, - he took the book from Slava and showed the words in it to those present: - “EVERYTHING must be EVERYTHING that really exists, otherwise EVERYTHING would not be EVERYTHING” and "ALL is THOUGHT". Translated into the common language, this means: EVERYTHING THAT IS IN THE UNIVERSE, CONSIDERED AS A ONE WHOLE, IS THE REAL ONE GOD, AND NOTHING BEHIND GOD EXISTS OUTSIDE OF GOD. All the inexhaustible matter of the Universe, all the Pure (non-embodied) Spirit, called vacuum by physicists, all the innumerable souls of the Universe - ALL THIS together represent the three Hypostases of the One God, which in its essence is the Almighty Thought or the World Mind in three substantial forms: material (Godmother!!!), spiritual (God the Father!!), spiritual (God the Son!). That is why the question of what is primary is meaningless: “Matter or spirit?” “Matter is a condensed, crystallized Spirit (Thought). An analogy would be the question, the meaninglessness of which is obvious: “What comes first: steam, water or ice?”
Only the father had long ago prepared an answer. Carefully, so as not to offend uninvited guests, he took the book from hand to hand and, opening it on a page marked in advance with a bookmark, read:
- “There is a Single Creator or Lord of all these Universes. Place. Number and extension cannot be preserved without the Creator. Order cannot exist without place and dimension; there must be a Master.” “Oh my son! Give God the Name that best suits, call Him the Father of all things, for He is One and His pure Action is to be a Father. If you want me to use a bold expression - His Essence is to give birth and create. And just as nothing can exist without the Creator, in the same way He Himself would not exist if He did not create infinitely ... He is what is and what is not, for what is - He manifested, then, what (so far) is not - He keeps in Himself", "He does not have a body and has many bodies, or rather all bodies, for there is nothing that would not be in Him, and all that is He is One. That is why He has all names, for He is the One Father, and that is why He has no name, for He is the Father of all. Everything is a part of God, and therefore God is ALL. Creating everything, He creates Himself, never stopping, for His activity has no limit, and just as God is limitless, creation has neither beginning nor end. The quoted statement of Hermes Trismegistus about God is consonant with the brief philosophical remark of Jesus Christ (the Gospel of John), “Believe Me that I am in the Father, and the Father is in Me ...”, which means: “GOD is in EVERYTHING, and EVERYTHING is in GOD." It also says: “God is a spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth” ….
The interlocutors fell silent. There was an awkward pause, and the priest said victoriously:
- You will not stay five or ten minutes without me, do you need to go to fix the candles?
And slowly went out.
For about five seconds Slava looked at the trail of the fluttering black cassock, then asked:
- What now?
- Now that's the hardest part. To get into the past, you need to be in balance for a couple of minutes in the present. Then - in the future. And only then look for something in the depths of time, - wearily wiped his eyes, involuntarily deprived of sleep that night, professor. And then he quietly continued in a whisper, - in the future they do not linger for a long time. Nothing is needed there.
Glory got excited.
- Don't drift! - the professor slapped him on the shoulder, - Everyone can be both in the past and in the future. These dimensions, they are all around us. It all depends on human perception. From the turntable, not the record. Understand? You just need to tune in.
Glory nodded. Lebedev, just in case, put his finger to his lips:
- Then let's go! We are actually surrounded by a wall of stars, photons reaching us from all sides of this wall, due to dissipation, simultaneously reduce temperature, speed, frequency, etc., which is why we have not yet been fried in a star frying pan ...
Sitting in a yoga position, he closed his eyes.
And in the next second, nothing seemed to change. Only a barely noticeable whirlwind, reminiscent of the movement of air over candles, enveloped Lebedev. The professor found himself, as it were, in a kind of energy cocoon, which, rotating wildly, lets in and out of itself only the information and energy necessary for him or for someone.
Lebedev opened his eyes. They didn't express anything.
- Hey! Slava touched his sleeve. - Where are you?
He jerked his head.
- What a news.
- What?
- Do you represent this church?
- Yes.
- Under it and above it in space and time there are about a hundred more churches. At the same place. Understood?
- Nuuu ... as it were not.
- Here. Now. Thousands of people are walking. Souls of the departed. their contours. They are flowing like doves. They are waiting for their time. I saw the book of Genesis. I held it in my hands. Not for long. It lies right here, - the professor pointed to the table, - The Almighty in white robes opened it to me in the middle, mentally ordered: “Look, if you are so cool! Will you understand?
- And there?
- And what's in there? Drawings. Matrices. I leafed! Everything is there. And in the end I understood. Faiths are different. And the gods are different. And everyone has the same platform. And she's alive. The whole system is visible above it. United. And our brain does not perceive this system.
The short phrases of the crazy professor were interrupted by the quiet steps of the priest.
- More tea? he entered the library.

Chapter eight. Journey to the future.
- In fact, this time, it was not Kingfishers, but a consequence of the work of the beam chrono-magneto-projection translator from the future. "Vremyanka" from 2237. Zach just couldn't know that in 2024. By the way, Kingfishers, among such “shooters” like Zak, were called subjects spaced apart in time, possessing a phenomenal mental field or developed modeling thinking, who, with the help of a continuous stream of thought forms, penetrating, often unconsciously into the future or into other dimensions, colonize the continuum with their revived there thought forms, and overload the continual bio magnetic field! - The professor spoke, shouting over the blizzard, which played out in earnest, as they walked back to the cemetery.
- Do you have to do it from the grave? Can we go back to the sea? Would have had breakfast first ... - Slava hesitated when they crossed the goal line.
- Do not interrupt! - the professor snapped, - I'm preparing you for a more responsible step than frying scrambled eggs in a meager room in Gelendzhik! So, Kingfishers act catalytically on the feedback points in time of the bioinformation energy of the Earth. They overload the main intellectual or mental network of planetary life, creating confusion for posterity who find it difficult to understand what or who appears in front of them: a hologram, a living person, an intelligent biorobot or a double... Kingfishers bring unpredictable changes to the circulation circuit of the "controlled Life energy" , infecting everything around, and even forward with new and new viruses of psychogenetic mutations ...
They came.
- Everything is clear with Kingfishers. I'll be a goodie. The grave is here, - Slava showed the burial place, - I remember exactly.
- Good. Get in!
- What? To the snow?
- To the snow. Sit right. Like this. One day I didn't sit right. And after three days I was throwing up and sick. You can't go to bed either. In no case! No wonder all the yogis and others come up with different poses there. The main thing is not to get back into the real world. He's more accessible. Only the measurements are different. Do not turn to live matrix sites. In the dreams of other people and other beings in the universe, who at this moment are doing the same thing, traveling is also fun. But you have to focus on the essentials. Understood?
- It's cold to sit.
- Now it will be warmer. This is not an idea. And the generator. I built this whole system myself. I'm not some sort of team experiment organized by the team. Those then immediately erase the memory by 98%! I am a loner. Now they are after me and they are hunting for me, as for Professor Krokhalev, who, you yourself understand why he did not die a natural death, - seating Slava properly on the grave of his grandmother, Lebedev broadcast under the howling of a snowstorm, - And you launch cities and measurements, where the earth is stores all information. It will become available to us if we configure it correctly ...
- What if it's wrong?
- Then - fuck - lethal outcome, - the professor laughed.
Glory twitched.
- Kidding. Ready?
- Yes.
- Begin. Coordinates, time, body. There is. Let's go to the channel...
- Stop!
 - What else?
- I'm afraid. Explain again what needs to be done. Head circle, square and ellipse!
- OK then. I'm sending you to the future. It's literally there for a couple of seconds. For balance. I told you this a hundred times! And immediately - in the past.
- One?
- Not. Well, no. You cannot be alone. I will be there all the time. But as if in a different substance. Like, well, like your nurse with a potty. It's clear?
- It's clear.
- If you want to ask something, - I will answer. Only you won't see me. And do not pull-on trifles. Especially in the future. And that makes me sick! That's all.
- How does it make you sick? You will be intangible!
- Then he'll be sick. When we return!
- Understood. And who will I be?
- You will be your dear grandmother, Ekaterina Lavrentievna Konyukhova, only dying.
- Not ... - Slava began to rise from the grave, - not a grandmother.
- What else do you want? A very convenient moment. She is dying. Her spirit departs. And you at the same second in her body - Shast! And I'm behind you. And we look from the eye holes at everything that happens, as from the portholes of the Titanic. And we continue to sit until we recognize the Name, the very name, because of which we started all this, in fact, a colleague.
But my mother will be there!
- So what?
- And, therefore, I will be myself, only a small one.
- Very well! See yourself with your own eyes. You will see your father. Grandpa is there.
- Father, it seems, was not there. And grandfather too.
- You'll find out at the same time. Who like whom. For what. For what reason. This one. I promise a lot of surprises! Drive - excitedly overeat! Come on, make up your mind. Cold. And then I will turn the space, and you will fly to tattered Gelendzhik to burst Turkish peaches.
- Okay. Let's go, - Slava agreed, - How should you sit down there correctly?
- That's smart. It would have been like that for a long time. We start the journey. Let's go! Close your eyes, fool! Will burst! Oya! What idiots are not ready for the sake of love! - the last thing Slava heard and closed his eyes.
Surprisingly beautiful, like overgrown, multi-colored rings of Saturn, field disks passed from top to bottom, changing the magneto peptide fields of adapters running, swimming and standing in different phases of movement. The fields changed like huge gypsy skirts lifted by a whirlwind with a frenzied rotation, so people find themselves in a crazy dance of transition ...
3000 years. Slava and YurVedych ended up in the EDINET thought-communion chat. There are two or three million members. Users fled from all the groans. Surrounded.
- Are you from the past? O! New! Virus! Forbidden! Nonsense! Do you want to run into the police? Come on. Let's talk! Thoughts were all over the place.
- Are you Lenin? – the question was addressed to YurVedych.
- Not. I am not Lenin.
- And so, you think, just him. Are you by any chance a Crimean?
- Crimean will be only in 2050! Balda! He is an earlier flight.
More and more new users arrived. Glory is lost. Didn't have time to model answers. YurVedych kept the situation under control.
- Administrator! Administrator! voices whispered.
- You must immediately leave the communication platform, we have not a political or historical, but an entertaining chat, - the pleasant voice of the administrator said. We don't want trouble. And you are too. You know the laws: everyone from the past is sterilized. Cleanse memory. But if you return immediately, we will let you go. Hurry up. And now the scientists and the police will come running. Memory erasers will be called.
- Go! YurVedych commanded without warning, swirling Slava with whirling currents, dragging her deeper.
And they ended up on the same grave again.
For some time, Slava looked with bulging eyes at YurVedich.
- Awesome! To whom to tell - they will not believe.
- Don't tell me!
- What was it? Can you explain?
- These uncles scientists know everything. And I don't know a damn thing, - the professor snapped again. “There in the future we are only observers. He wasn't there yet. And it is impossible to take anything from there or leave it at all. Understood? It can develop like this. Or maybe it never develops. Everything depends on you. From me. From Baba Katya. From the philosopher's priest who treated us to honey.
The professor is silent. But suddenly he asked:
- Maybe tomorrow? Something I got tired.
- Well, I do not. “Dead. So, she died." In the body of a grandmother. So in the body of a grandmother!
- Well look. You asked for it. Right now. Right now. Let me breathe for a couple of minutes. And let's go.
Why closes your eyes?
- That is?
Why do we close our eyes before traveling?
- Everything is simple, - Lebedev looked at the advantages of the churchyard in a businesslike manner, - in order to save the soul. Are the eyes the mirror of the soul?
- Mirror.
- You have a lot of functions in your skull in the cerebral cortex. Through the eyes you perceive, analyze, and transmit information to the nerves. Vision is much superior to the associative zones of other senses: smell, hearing ... One of the carriers of information, as you know, are photons - the most common of all elementary particles in the world space. They fly out of atoms from the surfaces of objects, and it is thanks to them that a person perceives the surrounding reality.
However, if the eye can detect photons, then it can probably emit these material particles itself.
- Lebedev, in short, can you? Cold! I know about it. Read in magazines. I went to lectures. I heard that scientists were doing experiments. In the center of the room, with his back to the researchers, a man sat down, at which at certain moments another had to look. If the subject felt the gaze, he reported it. More than a hundred volunteers took part in the study. In 95 percent of cases, people felt the gaze directed at them! There was a fleeting feeling of pressure in the occipital region, like a breeze.
- Correctly. Be patient. I haven't recovered yet. And what a stupid habit to interrupt! Let me finish the thought. So. In the 70s of the last centuries, Doctor of Technical Sciences Sergeev conducted research with the famous psychic Kulagina. In one of the experiments, Ninel Sergeevna had to deflect a laser beam with an effort of thought. However, something happened that no one expected. The cylinder through which the beam passed was filled with a luminous haze, and he himself disappeared. Gennady Alexandrovich, who was sitting opposite the subject, looked into her eyes and ... went blind! After that, he was treated for a long time, until his vision was finally restored. But the look of some people, as it turned out, can not only blind, but also kill. In the 80s of the nineteenth century in Sicily, one of the inhabitants of Messina enjoyed the sinister glory of the killer. People, seeing him, turned into lanes in advance. They feared becoming a victim. However, no one could bring this monster to justice, or even bring charges. Because he killed in a very original way. With a look ... And yet fate punished him. Once he stopped at a shop window and looked at his reflection in the mirror for a long time ... This is what caused his sudden death. I saw it. The rays emanating from his eyes reflected off the mirror and struck back at the killer. According to available observations, the look of a person who is in a state of extreme emotional arousal can also be very dangerous. This fact has been known for a long time, so it was not by chance that those sentenced to death were blindfolded.
- And "the boys are bloody in the eyes"?
- Correctly think! The rays can possess tremendous power of influence on another person. Therefore, it is not so unbelievable to assume that the organ of vision is a kind of tool with which you can influence others in a certain way. How else can one explain the widespread belief in the "evil eye" in the East and in the West.
- Bekhterev, it seems, had such a work "Fear of someone else's gaze." Bekhterev gave an accurate diagnosis to Stalin. And he also ended his life with an unnatural death.
“Not at all because of the diagnosis, my friend. Bekhterev came closest to traveling to the Abyss. We talked today about Krakholev, who, among other things, learned to photograph and record human thoughts, hallucinations in the form of holographic images. Krokhalev experimentally proved that human eyes can radiate not only fear, love or hatred, but also energy: thought is material, it can be recorded on film.
- And then?
- Cake with a cat! Everything is classified. Krokhalev has gone into oblivion, like Bekhterev. Unlike you, I see how thoughts and emotions fly away from a person, they can be compared in terms of energy, and it becomes obvious that the energy of consciousness is hundreds of times more effective than the energy of emotions. I don't need to take pictures of her. But I see her with my eyes closed. In time. If you do not close your eyes, you can not only go blind, but also die.
- Yes, what we talked about. Because the past is jealous of us. And the future - scornfully humiliates. Both that and other energy of times, collected from millions of individuals, regardless of the color of their eyes, is deadly! That's why I tell you every time - close your eyes. Otherwise, the transition will be painful.
- Understood. Although, a lot of text. I could explain shorter.
- Could be shorter. But then I wouldn't rest. Well? Ready?
- Well, let's go then! Eyes!!! 


Chapter nine. Kingfishers.
Something happened that neither of them expected.
At first, Slava became very cold. Dark. He was abruptly pulled into orbit and spun by an orange-red cocoon with many rings, as if the planet-onion in the section moved and changed, beckoning to its essence. Glory broke the rules. He stretched out his hand to see what kind of hand he now had. She turned out to be the same. But, looking more closely, Slava saw skin on his arm, under it were veins and muscles, capillaries and in them - a lot of moving blood balls. It happened in hundredths of an instant. Slava tried to control his energy hand. He touched the bright orange ring. The signal was intercepted. Lebedev flew first. And Slava got stuck on the turn of the ring, hitting the Kingfishers.
Before him, the Commander looked at the emerging image of the transitions as if it were the living movement of the Serpent, and not just the work of the Channel. Zach followed the emerging points of subjective interaction, or rather, the people who resonated to the impulse in different countries and at different times, thinking about the role of the individual in history, sitting in the cockpit of the TPS ...
  - Who are they, these Kingfishers, or Observers? - Slava thought, watching Zak attentively look at the diagram of the genetic code of the first Kingfisher, or rather, the Observer... The past was stratified into parallel strips of measurements and these strips, thin but heavy, lived their impartial life. The names of the brave testers who remained there during the transition from one such lane to another is forever inscribed in the history of Mankind ... Zak was fully aware of his role as a "sewer", a person who let in and let out Life, where - and anywhere ...
      - A-A-A, so this is the creator of intelligent robots Mallory! Zak exclaimed.
Slava saw out of the corner of his eye that almost half of the entire Committee was standing behind him and next to him, and someone else in gray overalls. When did they show up? A yellow moving dot lit up.
- Irradiated and acknowledged on February 21, 1991. Yuri Vsevolodovich Lebedev, - Zak said.
Irradiated and acknowledged?
- And who is this? - the commander pointed to Bolshakov's substance. Turned around with the whole body. He stared at what Slava had inside.
Slava also looked at his insides. He almost vomited.
The thought: “The reckless and charming Lebedev, frightening with his incredible mental activity and all-pervading influence both on Slava and on this whole strange committee, is“ irradiated and acknowledged ”, - a heat engulfed inside his right hemisphere.
Then some movement quickly took place in the room, and around Glory for a moment it brightened up and blossomed ... The tension of the psyche reached the limit.
The professor grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into another reality. Around them, in a gray haze, decades creaked like old masts.
Most of all, Slava was surprised by the "drift of events" or the scheme of times, tangible graphic curves of deviation in time and space. There were many other things, no less interesting, but much more dangerous than "fiction"... It seems that Zack and his team want to gain power over the whole world - to "control" bad states, dividing the world into people and non-humans.
The chatter in the black intertemporal space lasted for a fraction of a second. But it seemed like an eternity. The direct "ray" influence or subtle, pinpoint correction definitely gave rise to oriented events and contacts, the correctness of which was not in doubt. The large and calm hand of the Future spread the polarities across the subjective network of the planet, the existing frontal relations of countries for a greater depth of management and control. It turned out that humanity had no other choice - it was doomed to physical conflicts because of its own subjective inactivity and the most sophisticated form of political and economic vampirism; this was due to "psycho-geographical" inertia, the weak energy of deterring aggression, which is developed in the process of the historical and genetic life of peoples and states over rather long periods of time.

It looked both beautiful and cruel - at the same time... This is where the correction ended, and control with objective feedback - broadcasting events in the 19th century began.
- She must die in two seconds, - said YurVedych, painfully pinching Slava's side. - Don't be a bully anymore. We are in place.
- Where I am? - Glory's eyes are still closed. But the eyes of Death seemed to be staring into him. They shone so brightly that Bolshakov's mental head suddenly began to grow in size, becoming a giant basketball. And her eyes continued to pour inside a stream of pulsating "electric welding" energy, and, apparently, information. This went on for a long, incredibly long time - a life, another life, or at least half a life, after which Slava realized that a little more, and he would go crazy.
And opened his eyes.
- Water? asked a young woman who looked like his mother.

Chapter ten. Mother.
- Mother? Glory answered her.
- Nadia? something nearby creaked in the same head in an old woman's voice.
- Didn't die? said the astonished invisible Professor Lebedev to the very depths of self-consciousness. - What a surprise.
- Well, you don't have to think about death, - Slava's mother corrected Ekaterina Lavrentievna's pillow. - You will live up to a hundred and fifty years.
- Oh and say the same. A lot of something, - the old woman creaked.
It's time for the old lady to rest. - Answered for an elderly woman YurVedych, - One hundred and fifty years to live is unhealthy!
- What a joker you have become! Hope smiled. - Do you want to eat? For three days they ate nothing but semolina! Compote cooled down in the vestibule. Or is a wrestler better? BUT? Come on, borscht with sour cream!? Fresh. Warm. Borachio is ripe. And the young dug potatoes. Let's. BUT?
"No," replied the old woman.
- Yes, mother! Brosche’s! - Slava, who was starving from the trip, and even feeling an empty stomach, could not stand it.
- Well, that's good! Nadezhda rushed into the kitchen, drawing the old woman's curtain.
- Nadya’s! BUT? Nadya’s? the old woman shouted after her.
- Yes, I listen, - that mother-in-law answered.
- And I saw death.
- Yes, full of you!
- I'm telling the truth. Like a spotlight, the light descended on me. And blinded everyone. And now two more voices have settled in me.
- These are the angels of heaven flock. Help you! - Nadezhda responded, racing in the kitchen.
- I won't live to see Peter’s Day. Oh, don't live.
- Do not survive. Do not live, - Lebedev confirmed from somewhere inside.
- You are so kind! Bolshakov poked him.
The old woman listened to unfamiliar voices, and cried out, - Nadyusha! One again.
- What is it again? What?
- They scream at me. Did you hear?
- Ma! Grab a compote! Slava shouted out of habit, which he had just recognized in himself again.
Shouted. And tired. The body became lethargic. Or rather, that body, one, for two with an old dying woman, into which the soul fell. The arms and legs barely moved. Something was rolling under the mattress.
- What the hell? - he asked either the professor or the grandmother, tossing and turning and trying to control the new organism.
- The peas are under the cattail! And you don't know! the old woman grinned. - It's me, in order to feel the body, I knead the back with peas, - she answered, getting used to the internal polyphony.
 - And a lot of it? - asked Lebedev.
- Ten packs! I blew out the cotton. And sprinkled peas instead of cotton. Our priest Onufry advised the other day from the arrival of the local, - Baba Katya boasted.
- Lebedev, do you understand? Don't ask too many questions! My grandmother is actually the princess and the pea!
- Not. This is according to the principle of Lyapko applicators! the professor objected.
- What other applicators? Who is your grandmother?
- You are my grandmother. And I am your grandson.
- What nonsense! My Nuuk is running around in the yard. Snot. Play with ripples.
“He came to support you from the future,” Lebedev intervened.
- Breach? Grandma hesitated. - Ouch. Ruchi and Nozi are numb. Flow away. Don't help me. You will perish yourself. I'm dying. “There was a man in a swamp knee-deep. The brothers wanted to help and plunged up to their shoulders!”
He needs to know the name.
- Whose name is that? My name is Katerina. And my daughter-in-law is Hope.
- The name of God.
- It is said in the Holy Scripture: "The name of God is written on your hearts!"
The curtain was pulled back with a light maternal hand. Nadezhda sat down beside her, all radiant.
- Here is the wrestler. Open your mouth! I will feed!
- Get infected! The old woman tried to turn away.
Slava opened his mouth, despite her resistance.
- The doctor says that this jaundice of yours is not jaundice at all. And you are not contagious at all. This happens to old people.
- Before death, - Lebedev agreed. And again, he received a kick from Bolshakov somewhere inside the head, squeaking in pain.
The body wrinkled.
- What? Hope asked.
"Head," creaked the professor.
- Nothing. Eat well and get well soon. And you will play with Svetik in the yard. And tell him stories at night.
Svetik? Yes. Svetoslav. Svetik. That was once his name. Only a long time ago. At the mention of this, something turned over in Slav kina’s soul. It began to sing. Mom talks about him! Vague old memories came to light. Warm puddles full of summer rain that had just beaten down the dust. With a tremendous effort of will, he raised his head from the pillow, looking behind the colorful curtain with the hope of seeing the only thing he remembered from childhood - his room. But I didn't see it. He flopped back into the hard, downy down that smelled of death.
“It must be unpleasant for you to feed me,” he said to his mother, exhausted, “the body has become flabby. Curves. Smelly. How do you not wince from under me to rake out the shit?
- What are you, dear! You do not understand. I love you so much, - Nadezhda's sincere eyes were clouded with tears of pity or love. She continued to put spoons of borscht into the old Slavka's mouth, persuading and saying, until it was over, and the spoon banged on the plate, - Don't think that you are nasty. You are beautiful. You are my little Svetik! He has legs like you. The same form. And pens like yours. And sponges. And the hair curls. How can I not love you if I see my son in you?! Let's rub our cheeks! Well! And now compote! Rest, my dear, sleep. Get tired of borscht! I'll draw the curtains for you.
- You don't need curtains! - not holding back tears, Slava objected, - let them be.
He looked at his mother as if he had never seen her in his life. And the hot tears of old age rolled down the cheeks with the impotence of love that had arisen. She is now younger than he is. How beautiful she was, it turns out! Strong! Tender! White a Bunny!
How not a mother loved - a mother-in-law ... Tanned hands. Floral skirt. The blouse is neat and neat, tucked inside. Get to work soon. Not fussy. Reliable. Hair to hair combed carefully and put away in a heavy bun at the back of the head. And at home and in the garden, everything is arguing. Why did they end up apart? Why couldn't he forgive her? Why did you stop loving?
- Sit with me. Sit down. Have a rest! He grabbed his mother's hand. He asked a question that had tormented him for a long time, - How are you alone then?
- Yes, what is one? Not alone. Here you are with me.
- Throw away his letters. Burn it! - the old woman in the body started up, who was about to take a nap, - he is no longer my son. You, daughter-in-law are dearer than Iago. Varnak. Pus will perish in the camps, bastard!
- You don't have to worry. Is it possible to stop the wind with a stove damper?
But the old woman was inflamed, and boiled from within, scattering both Lebedev and Bolshakov in her head:
- Every family has its black sheep! I stopped respecting my mother! On a pregnant deuka with an ax! I won't ask! I won’t ask the bastard Petka! Change your last name, Nadya. Take the girl. And here's another. There is some money in the chest. Do not put a stone monument to me. Give the ryabenka for teaching. Pus goes to the city. To boarding school. Let a man grow out of Iago. And if he stays in the countryside, he will twist the tails of the bulls until he retires! Don't give it to him. He is badass! And you yourself marry a visiting officer Seryochka. Vaughn looked at you. Live your own with Seredzhik. It's not worth Petka to be respected like that. Take care of the return. Leave. Throw me old. Don't feed! I want death.
- Here's another! Hope rose sharply. - Get some rest, dear. I'm going to meet the cattle.
All three froze in the old woman. It was as if they had heard something unexpected. Katerina Lavrentievna moved her hand, and unexpectedly tapped on her head:
- Are you here? Ali already left? Have you heard? How can a nanny love me? Feed borscht. Everyone would be like that. Yes, with peace, there would be no war on earth. Report to the archangels of heaven. May she fit in there!
Slava needed time to recover from the shock. And he just sighed, giving himself away:
- I want to go home!
Grandma immediately picked up:
- How! Home! There sits a lame man! Footcloths dry. You will suffocate. - And she giggled, - heh heh heh.
 Lebedev added:
- Oh, and well done you, Ekaterina Lavrentievna! Comedian!
- And then! Current and hold on to a sense of humor! And my grandson, do you hear? Are you here?
- Here.
How are you taking care of the grave?
- Of course, - Slava deceived.
- Do you plant flowers?
- Asters, - after a little hesitation, Bolshakov lied again.
- A lot of fuss with asters! Plant a daylily. Will you plant?
- I'll plant it, Grandma Kat.
- And I love rose hips. In the spring, the smell of Iago makes me go crazy. And how did you study in the city?
- Learned.
Did you take your father's last name or your mother's?
- Mothers.
- That's right. From smart. Well, here you are, little one. Right now, I'll show you to you, - the grandmother fussed at the children's voices that were heard at the front door.
She acted as if she were presenting a family album to a relative who had not visited for a long time.
No. Doesn't go. Play with the guys. Did you see your father?
- Did not see.
- Well, how. Right now, Hope will come, ask the card to show.
- No need.
- How not to?! Father anyway. Even if it's a varnak. They put him in jail for ten years. Hot head without God! That's it. Serve him, Herod. But you look like him!
- Nice compliment! Lebedev put in. - That's what I see, you are evil, aggressive.
- I'm in my mother.
- Yeah, in my mother, especially when you kick. Well, not with an ax ...
- Say thank you.
- Don't get distracted. You need to know something. Did not forget?
Yes, I think about it all the time...
- Light!!! - the grandmother yelled at the top of her lungs.
-Ai?!- the child replied.
- Svetik, come here!

. Chapter Eleven. Svetik.
A four-year-old boy ran into the room. Pigeon eyes are on fire. Cheeks flushed from running. Light curls - in different directions. On the side is a plastic saber.
- It's me! Slava whispered to Lebedev.
- I see, not a fool, - he answered.
- Light! Grandma smiled sweetly.
- I'm not Light! I am Svetoslav Petrovich! And never call me that! I'm not small anymore! Understood? - the boy got angry, stamping his foot, - Got it? You understood?
- Understood, understood, - the grandmother surrendered. - I won't. Bring me the letter that mother left on the kitchen table. Show us the photo!
- Can you tell a story?
- I'll tell you.
Svetik ran to the kitchen and back. Brought a photo.
- From he is a varnak. Petka! Seen? - the old woman showed the photo to herself and to those personalities that were stuck in her head.
- Looks like it! Lebedev noted.
- Not a drop, - Slava got angry.
- Bab Kat? Who are you talking to? Lightning was surprised.
- By myself.
Do you really have a split personality?
- Who told you that? the professor grinned.
- Mother Nadia.
- She got excited. So, you will listen to a fairy tale or how?
- Will! - a child climbed up on a pea mattress from the fly, jumped, enjoying the creak of a grandmother's bed. He looked into his grandmother's eyes, but in fact: into his own.
Glory stopped breathing. Grandma almost died from this.
- Breathe! - Lebedev cried. - You will call trouble!
- Lie down! Lie down with me, my dear,- the old woman said, panting, and she herself tipped over onto the pillow even deeper.
Svetik obediently and trustingly lay down, glancing at the old woman.
- What can I tell you about...
- ... so as not to spoil the time continuum? - Baba Katya asked, and Professor Lebedev continued.
- About the mermaid just now promised - said the grandson.
- It is possible about the mermaid, - the professor agreed, seizing the initiative, while the old woman, gasping for breath, grabbed her heart. - Here, imagine. On the lands where ancient civilizations lived, scientists are looking for treasures. And there are so many other worlds nearby! Take, for example, Chersonese. Scythians. Then the Greeks. Beautiful women swim up to the shore. In white silk. On their heads are high blue hats. Three hundred years later, the Romans are already there. Even further - the Byzantines. Even further - the Tatars.
- What about mermaids?
- Well, I'm saying that before the Greeks and Scythians for 100 million years, reptoids lived. They are Kingfishers now. Observers. What archeology? The whole planet is alive! And since the earth stores information, so we, if we set it up correctly, can penetrate into any time layers. Understood?
"Uh-huh," the child nodded.
- And mermaids are the remains of an ancient civilization. Now it's just a projection.
- How did they talk?
- Not like us. The professor clicked his tongue.
- What about underwater?
- And under water they click like a frog, like this: pua, pua, pua, po-po pay, as if they were blowing bubbles. They have such a language.
What about Sirens? They were, you said, beautiful and sang so wonderfully that they enchanted travelers? Ba?
- Oh, yes. These sirens are terrible, worse than an atomic war. When mermaids many millions of years ago united with the Nibirians, immigrants from the planet Nibiru, terrible and creepy Sirens were born, similar to a mixture of Chukchi and fish. But their voice turned out to be air control. Catching streams and jets of air, the Sirens could manipulate them, uttering inhuman polyphony. Even in Peter's Russia, the Magi could hear them and called them Quakers. Quaker wives - sirens - this is another race that still communicated with people. On the coast of the Black Sea, sometimes it takes out chiseled stones. These were the warning stones. Like our letters.
- Mermaid writing?
- Yes exactly.
While the professor shone with knowledge of the past of the planet, the child fell asleep, closing his eyes.
Both Slava and the grandmother stared at him with equal love. Most importantly, and most incredible, they both felt the same way. Slava looked with interest at the smallest details on the face of Svetik - himself in childhood. He blew the rare and seemingly defenseless curls from his forehead, wiped the sweat with the back of his hand, stroked the tanned children's hands and feet.
- Such a small one, - Slava sighed deeply, chuckled with tenderness, - it seems to be drawn from some circles.
- You are strange. Did you love your children? the professor asked in a whisper.
- Yes, probably. My children are completely different. They are already big. Harmful.
- Yes, children are a completely different energy substance ...
Now I'm looking at him...
- To myself.
- Well, yes, on himself as he remained there, in the past. This is completely different. I'm not sure.
- So, it's not you. This is your projection.
- You yourself ... this is the word. Can you understand, information gatherer, how the heart can feel? What can it even feel?
- Certainly can. I'm not some kind of animal. - The aliens whispered. “I dragged you here so that you would remember how much you loved your mother. How she loved you. Like a grandmother... To make you feel it again... a fucking sociologist.
She seems to have fallen asleep. Do not open your eyes.
- Shh! The boy sees the future. As he is taken to the boarding school. It seems that after the death of Baba Katya, your mother nevertheless sent you to study.
- So, it was. But I don't remember clearly. I, it seems, was too rough, rude to her in letters. And then he thought that he had achieved everything himself.
 - Is she even alive?

- Seems to be yes. Haven't called in a long time. We never find a common language.
- A common language can only be found with a lover, - the professor chuckled.
- Vulgar!
- And you go! You have such a great mother. I would marry her...
- She offended me.
- How?
- …did not love. It always seemed to me that I did not love.
- Fool.
I see that you are stupid.
- Svetik is glorious. Do you want to see his dream?
- Yes! I do.
Chapter twelve. Dream of Light.
- Close your eyes! Get burned! - warned YurVedich, - with the fourth click - the nagual ...
Behind the eyes are visions that look like a blizzard of stars. Stripes of light moving from right to left are like pages of future or past lived years, where bright pillars are the most powerful memories. The dark green dense void, completely incomprehensible to Svetik, but very well recognized by the future adult copy of Slava, was not uniform.
“Let's consider the simplest model,” Professor Lebedev enters into sleep.
He is standing at the blackboard. Leads a lecture. The hall is full of students. One of them is Svetoslav Petrovich. The second is Svetik. They sit on opposite sides of the pulpit. And the professor turns his head to explain his thought to them.
 - Draw a circle with center O and connect two points of the circle with a segment passing through the center, we get the segment AOB. A and B are a binary pair. You and your madam accountant are a binary couple. But imagine that the shortest distance between A and B is not a straight line, but an arc - due to the field influence of the Center O - gravitational, electrostatic, etc. (spherical model, Lobachevsky-Riemann geometry). We get, not the "Center" of intersections, but a set (infinite, by the way), located along a circle at a certain radius from the Center O. The value of this radius depends on the strength of the field (O). Inside this radius is VOID. This is the unknowable - the nagual, the heart or the ain-sof. Outside, to the outer border of the circle - the known knowable - the tonal, outside the circle - the unknown knowable - is available after the destruction of the circle (what is called "death") ... Sleep. Welcome to the Abyss!
…February. Loose snow. +5. Svetik fall to the withered grass. And immediately cold. -0. Nast holds even an adult mother. In sunny places - a broken track - in the forest the road is better ...
... The light is small. He climbs onto the roof and jumps into the deep snow. They lose it there...
... The light is small. Field of tulips. He is looking for snowdrops...
... The light is small. They and the guys ride on a hanging bungee by the river ...
... The light is small. He ends up in a boarding school in the middle of the year. Fighting with the new group. Writes a letter to his mother. She is not responding…
… Forest again. Not a soul. Only animal trails. And wind. Addiction to these paths is to follow the footsteps. You turn off the road - knee-deep in snow ...
... - Aww! - Svetik shouts, - Where are you? Aww!
The child gets tired quickly. Gets out of strength.
Slava wants to take him in her arms. Regret, press, warm, pulling out of the cold paws of loneliness, known so early. But how to do that? Svetik - he himself!
Wild. Cold field of loneliness. Ain-sof! Death. Dream. Emptiness. Nagual. Loneliness for the rest of your life. For 45 years as one hour until today... Empty Gelendzhik. Glory walks on the sand. Circle of despair syndrome. Professor Lebedev catches up with him. He pulls out a jar of black caviar from his bosom.
Foamy waves noisily whip snow, crumble into dust at the altar. Father Onufry shouts, unfolding the book of Genesis, shouting over the blizzard:
 -Everyone knows the name of God! Just forgot!
Lightning looks at him guiltily. He is in the middle of the church. Chalk in hand. The boy draws a circle around himself to protect himself from the priest. But he doesn’t have time to connect the ends: he is suddenly grabbed by the hand, from where it appeared, Professor Lebedev, hissing prophetically right in the ear:
- If there is an exit in the circle, it is already a spiral!
Svetoslav wakes up from fright. The old woman wakes up. It looks like she had the same dream.
Reaching out to the child. Stroking. Glory allows her to speak, because she does not find the right words. He doesn't know how to console himself. And the old woman knows:
- Bye-bye, bye-bye.
Bunnies jumped.
Lyuli-lyuli-lyulushki,
The geese have arrived.
The ghouls began to roam
My Svetik began to fall asleep.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Ugom take you.
Slava looks out of the old woman at herself. In his sensations, it resembles a huge screen of visibility, where the eye sockets serve as a circular windowsill ...


Chapter thirteen. Lovely conversations with relatives about the main thing.
The doctor came. But as a doctor - a village paramedic. He confirmed that jaundice is not contagious, since it is ill in the last days of life. And when he left, he didn’t even take honey with him ...
Gradually, both the space and thoughts of Glory narrowed to the size of a little room, enclosed by curtains. The jaundiced sun at times peeped behind the curtains of the dying woman, but dimmed, paled, and aged sun was removed away.
The test for Svetoslav Petrovich - to get into the world of a half-dead old woman, as in a painful icteric dream, where you don’t want to eat, drink, or even live, by and large was on the verge of endurance. And, if not for the deepest interest in himself, only in a child's body and love for his mother, not born spontaneously, or rather, the return of this love, or the time of love, he would have had a very bad time.
Mother woke up early. He hardly saw her. But faithfully and gently felt the presence and warm smell. Mother smelled like milk. Warm, summer… She was milking a cow. Brought the flask into the house. Watered the old woman. She led the cow to the dew to the shepherd. Went to water the garden. Then - in the board, she worked as a secretary-typist. Svetik ran from his mother to Baba Katya. From Baba Katya to Mother.
Sometimes he ran up to the bed of a dying woman, coloring the monotony with a direct childlike smile. And all the households were waiting for him, as they are waiting for a cheerful, hasty downpour in a hot summer.
Hope came after five in the evening. And immediately took over the household. Cleaned up, cooked, fed the grandmother. I read it aloud to her. Mother-in-law was her family.
Sometimes, after feeding her mother-in-law, the mother gently touched the forehead of the old woman with her hand. And Svetoslav remembered the joy of this touch. I recognized the vibrations and warmth of the mother's energy. How? How could he forget all this? The most precious thing he had in his life was the hot hand of his mother on his forehead. A light short gentle touch...
- Well? Did you know? - Vedych Vsevedich, who appears from time to time, was interested in Slava's results of introduction into the body.
- Not. Did not recognize. Some common phrases. Maybe the word is Love?
- Well no. Not love. It's too easy, even though God is love.
- What then?
“Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word of God,” Baba Katya quoted the book of Genesis.
The old woman, who for some reason was not going to die, although she had long since left this mortal body in the past, took up knitting from time to time. Then the hopeless state - the room from which it is impossible to leave, the body of the old woman - everything reminded Svetoslav of the cocoon of an unhatched butterfly, which is spinning a gray future shroud for itself. Sleeping or half-sleeping body constantly fought for movement. Clinging to the crumbs of joy here on earth.
YurVedich, who was watching the knitting of a scarf, drew on a piece of paper a complex diagram of the geometry of his drawing with the hand of Ekaterina Lavrentievna with the construction of matrices and graphs.
- Vedych, don't scare your mother. Baba Katerina is illiterate. And he doesn't know geometry. And I didn’t see your matrices in a nightmare.
- Am I illiterate? - the old woman was indignant, - I knit without looking! No one in the village can repeat such a pattern!
- Yes, you are a master of ours! - Slava praised her, but the drawing with trigonometric formulas seemed to be accidentally thrown behind the sofa so that her mother would not see.
And the next day, YurVedich appeared again. Moreover, in normal projection. In human. He brought a jar of black caviar.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Professor Lebedev,” he bowed to Baba Katya.
- The one that was in my head? Very nice, - the old woman fidgeted. She immediately liked YurVedich very much. She perked up. Blushed. She smiled. I fixed my scarf. Have we met before? Your face looks familiar to me...
And he, in response, moved his eyebrows, just the same, dispersing the wind like a cockroach.
- Come on? Did you fall off the oak tree? We can't project! - Svetoslav Petrovich almost jumped out of his body, realizing that he, or rather Baba Katya outside of him, was “smiling” for no reason.
- I brought a gift for my grandmother. She is useful.
- Crazy! She has jaundice! Plant a liver! Kidneys! Stones!
- By the way, do not listen to him, this is my accursed grandson. He will perform, we’ll beat him in the butt, - the old woman patted herself in the back seat, smiling playfully, - Bread is there. In the kitchen Ali in the hallway. Bring it please. Don't worry about kidney stones. They are already drained, the doctor said that the Faceted Chamber would envy!
"Mumm, -" mumbled.
- This is a cow, - there was a grandmother.
- This is my cell phone. Kingfishers! How did they get me ... - Professor Lebedev smiled, turning off the phone. - Caviar just got back from the airport. Very sincere, I tell you, - the professor obsequiously looked at the granny from head to toe, spreading caviar on a slice of bread, baked by Nadezhda in the morning, and serving it to the granny.
He took a colored magazine with him.
- What interesting things did you read?
The appearance of the professor was not clear to Slava. He did not even guess in the castling of his projection of meaning. Therefore, he excitedly spread his fingers from time to time, and bulged his eyes.
Until now, the remains of the dead were buried or walled up. Swedish scientists offer to germinate them, - Lebedev led the conversation.
- He-he-he! Oh, how interesting! - Granny just came to life.
- Each God demanded his own conditions. Each civilization had a different attitude towards otherworldly forces. - The professor began to entertain her in such a peculiar way, - The legends of the ancient Egyptians, for example, say that a person has spirit “ka” (the personification of life force) and a spirit “ba” (a soul that only gods and pharaohs could possess). Some time after death, "ka" and "ba" unite, taking on the appearance of the individual, as he was in life. That is why the Egyptians so meticulously embalmed the dead kings. And also cats, because they believed that these animals also have a soul. The British, by the way, joked later, they took embalmed cats to fertilize their fields. And the Gods for some reason did not punish them. And, on the contrary, the harvest was awarded excellent.
- Yes! Where is the world going? - the old woman spread her hands, - Ah, you began to be ka, and I - ba! We'll connect after. Who is my grandson then? What is written about this in your color magazine?
- And what could be good there? - Slava put in his "five cents".
- Like what? Germination! - Grandma did not let up.
- Vedych! Calm down! - Slava tried to interrupt him. - Grandmother. Well, what kind of funeral, if you are still alive?!
- I'm alive, I'm alive, but from day to day I'll throw back my hooves! Granddaughter! It is very interesting. Most importantly, it's up to date!
- I do not recognize Baba Katerina! She's acquiring 20th century slang right before our eyes! What are you doing with her? the scientist grinned. - So, dear, we were interrupted again. The Slavic peoples, on the contrary, thought that the soul should be freed from the body as soon as possible after death, since it pulls down. For this reason, the bodies of the dead were burned, placed in clay pots and buried in barrows. They left only the righteous. Power from the word of power, that is, the mighty one, is the one who is helped by the holy ancestors. According to legend, such remains were placed on the stumps of old trees, and immured in a peculiar way.
 - Yes, yes, in Russian legends, “a hut on chicken legs, without windows, without doors,” Baba Katerina agreed, crushing caviar with bread, making small sandwiches for her grandson.
- Hindus still believe in life before and after death, in the existence of the soul and its evolution. As Vladimir Vysotsky sang: “Who believes in Mohammed, who believes in Allah, who believes in Jesus…”
- Vysotsky? Who is Vysotsky?
- He has not yet fledged, ba, - put in Slava. - Professor! Finish the market!
- Svetoslav Petrovich! Well, do not interfere with my work! Last warning! For a thousand years, since the time of the baptism of Russia, and of other European countries, the dead have been buried directly in the ground. And soon there would be no place left on it if it were not for technological progress. The adventures of corpses on the planet today are the most diverse. The Internet is full of commercials and advertisements.
- The Internet is what? Baba Katya asked, filling her mouth with caviar.
- This is a newspaper with ads in the form of radio. Video only.
- U. Continue, professor.
- The Chicago company, for example, has learned how to make artificial diamonds from the ashes of cremators. Imagine, from one person of average build, you can make up to 50 diamonds weighing from 0.2 to 1.5 carats. Stone production takes two months and costs from $3,000. for 0.2 carats up to 22 thousand c.u. for a caravan.
- U.e. what's this? - Grandma did not let up.
- U.e. Those are their dollars. Or our bucks. In California, the ashes are mixed with pyrotechnic charges. Funeral fireworks blare over San Francisco Bay. For the "fiery" funeral of one person, the company takes 3.25 thousand USD, the joint combustion of two people costs the customer much cheaper, only 3.75 thousand USD.
- Not. c.u. - not good. c.u. - No! What is easier to eat?
- I was in Texas. They can send a capsule with the ashes of a respected relative into low Earth orbit.
- Where did Gagarin fly to?
- Exactly! and Titov.
- Well. Can. Expensive, probably. 
- In Florida, the ashes are mixed with concrete, mounting a small reef. Relatives and friends of the deceased, who have the skills of sea diving, can visit the grave. Although, after 5-10 years, the artificial reef cannot be distinguished from the real one - it is covered with real corals, algae and sea anemones.
- Well, the whole world has gone crazy! ... - respecting the interlocutor, the grandmother blushed.
The professor, meanwhile, continued, still trying to find out the most important thing, but irritating Slava more and more:
- In Austria, webcams are installed in the funeral hall of the city of Klagenfurt. Friends and relatives who are unable to attend the ceremony can express their condolences by turning on the monitor at home by finding the right site.
- Monitor?
- Bah, this is a screen on which everything is visible. Only home.
- What are you? Not really, right?
- Exactly. In hot Italy, coffins are made with air conditioning ...
- Speak clearly, let's make an amendment for 40 years ago ... - Slava intervened.
- With an electric air cooler, - the professor continued, - with a glass cover and lighting.
- Crystal-steel, like in Pushkin's fairy tale? Katerina Lavrentievna nodded with interest.
- Like yes. On the one hand, the corpse does not deteriorate. On the other hand, it is visible. It happens that poor people sell themselves and their relatives who have fallen into a disaster on the organs, signing the relevant documents.
- No, my organs are unlikely to please anyone. I got worn out, - the grandmother concluded with chagrin. She took a deep breath.
- Technical capabilities "progress" just the same with lightning speed. But still, the main types of funerals today are cremation and burial in a coffin.
- What about sprouting?

- O! God! Reverend Archangel! Grandma crossed herself.
- Lord? - asked the professor.
- Reverend archangel? - Slavik asked.
- Is she going to resurrect like a flower herself? asked Katerina Lavrentyevna.
- But how! Dreams of becoming a white rhododendron.
- Handsomely.
- And we're not going to die! You will not get it! Slava exclaimed unexpectedly squeaky, almost like Svetik.
Okay, okay, I just thought...
“You think a lot,” Slava answered again instead of the old woman.
- Tsyts, Slavik, tsyts! Professor darling and sweetie! Can I have another sandwich? And to yourself! What don't you put on yourself?
After two or three courtesies accepted on these occasions, the professor left.
Since then, probably, my grandmother began to gain weight, and get better. Her food was taken up by YurVedich, who either appeared or disappeared usually at noon, when there was no mother.
At some time, the body of the woman Katya, who never gave the cherished long-awaited word, began to remind Slava of the huge, bloated Titanic ship sailing on the pea sea.
And the iceberg was inevitable.

Chapter fourteen. Argument.
- That's right, if you cycle, it is to pull together two surfaces, then it's a cycle, is it?
- Such a steel strip for scraping, - answered Ekaterina Lavrentievna.
- Good. Slav. We are already on the letter C!!! What other words do we know, Ekaterina Lavrentievna?
- On c?
- On c!
- Tsetsulya. Big slice of bread.
- What are you?
- Tsverkun. Cricket. To zavokat, that is, to speak. And, maybe not on c?
“There was nothing left before the beginning of the alphabet,” Slava scoffed, “it was necessary, like normal Lyuli, to start from the beginning!”
- But you all don't want to know, Yuri Vsevolodovich! - Grandma suddenly declared, - Do you need the name of God?
- How did you guess? the professor choked, surprised by the old woman's ingenuity.
- Yes, you yourself just now asked. Well, anyway. Why hesitate? Write it down. So, God, - she started in a chant. You can also say God. That is, the Almighty. Almighty. Omnipotent. Eternal.
- Eternal?
Yes, Eternal. It is the Eternal. Existing. Immortal. Sy. Lord.
- The Lord has already been.
- Good. Creator. Eternal being. Creator of the Universe. Be the God of happiness and share. And where in a sky, destitute.
- What also?
- And there is also the Mother of God, Belo bog, Chernobog, Dazhbog, Stribog. There are different names. What do you need?
- The most necessary.
- So choose. Do you need a deity, God's nature or Wealth - the God of hell?
- Already closer. How is Slav?
- Finish it, Lebedev, arranged a transfer here “What? Where? When?"!
- Slav, I can get angry. I also have no strength to hold the world matrix.
- Well, do not hold! Bolshakov freaked out.
- Yes, you went to the forest! That's all in the father! the professor couldn't resist.
The old woman immediately put her head on the pillow.
- What did you do? - Flew out of the body that expired, Slava. - What did you do, I ask you? Why did you kill grandma?
- I killed?
- You killed!
- I didn't kill. She died herself!
- Well, return everything as it was!
- Am I the Lord God?
- Yes! Exactly! shouted Glory.
From the street came the clatter of sandals, children's laughter and the slamming of the gate, in all likelihood, Svetik was running home.
- Grandma return to the place before the child appeared! - Slava asked to be quieter, taking Lebedev by the breasts and shaking his energy projection in the air.
- Why do you need her, anyway, you won’t get the right word from her? - "rested his horn" professor.
- You can not understand. She is dear to me. "As a memory."

- And ... well, then go ahead. Get back into it! Come out! Just don't forget. She has been keeping her word of honor for a long time.
- It rests on the name of God! Give Grandma back, I say!
- Yes please…
- Light! - Baba Katerina turned her hands, meeting her grandson. She hugged him, smiled wisely, not finding anyone in the room, because both the professor and Bolshakov immediately "jumped" into her head and fell silent.


Chapter fifteen. Pink dawn.
Baba Katerina snored softly.
- Why are you not sleeping? - Professor Lebedev asked Svetoslav already in the morning.
- I'm ashamed.
- In terms of?
- In front of you. You have done so much for me. And I'm just an ungrateful pig.
"That's right," the professor agreed modestly.
- I understands.
- What did you understand?
- I understood one thing. God is love.
The mother woke up at dawn. Went to milk the cow. And Svetik is behind her. Lebedev left his body, pulled back the curtains, answered Slava:
- Fresh thought.
- What a fresh one! Can we go home today?
- A lame man is sitting there ... drying footcloths. You will be suffocated!
- Seriously?
- We can. Look, Svetik climbed to the window. Pulls fingers to the woman.
- Grandma is sleeping. Even if your eyes are open. It is he who is pulling them to me, - Svetoslav turned around with his whole body, rolled over to the window, reaching out with his palm and feeling the coolness of the morning glass with all five fingers.
There, on the street, a boy smiled at him, copying all the movements of Svetoslav Baba Katerina. He also spread his fingers, and also touched the glass. Only on the other side of the window.
The glass began to warm where their fingers touched.
- Light! Will you have steam milk? called the mother.
And the boy instantly disappeared, as if he had not been.
- Let's fly. And there, how the stars will form, - Svetoslav sighed.
- Fool! You need to learn how to add stars yourself, as you need. If you've made up your mind, let's go now. A very convenient time indeed.
Will she die without us?
She will die with us.
- And Svetik?
- And Svetik will stay with his mother.
- And there? Will he find her in the future?
- How do you lay down the stars, Svetik.
Glory chuckled. He still couldn't get used to the professor's extravagance.
- And if these your observers will tie us up?
- Yes, they went! Tired! Our goal is to create a directed, possibly manageable result... Ready?
- Oh, and you love to pour. Be simpler. Ready!
- Take it easy yourself! Close your eyes, motherfucker! How many times to speak?
- Ready!
- Then let's go.
The night cemetery, under the howling of a blizzard, met me as uncomfortable as it let me go. This time they ended up at a marble slab with the inscription: "Konyukhova Ekaterina Lavrentyevna."
-Still changed the time continuum! - either with delight, or with disappointment, shouting over the blizzard, the professor declared. - Well? Now in Gelendzhik?
- Oh, maybe, well, him. Maybe back to Moscow? Can you get payday back?
- I can. But I have to fly with you.
- Why is this?
- Lest you buy another stupid box of chocolates!
- How do you know?
- Offend, colleague! Sit down. Go. Eyes! Close your eyes!
- I remembers!
…………………..
- Really, Moscow? So fast? What is everything?
- Well no. This is just the beginning. You didn't line up the stars properly. Yes, and a tie still to choose. Or are you going like this?
- I'll go like this.
- Will not understand.
- Understand.
- As you say. Have you come up with something? No. Confess! Did you remember something?
Until I tell you.
- Not. Say the name of God if you felt it.
- I can not. And suddenly it doesn't work.
- Well as you know. Look, you turned yellow all over!
- Where?
- Kidding!
- Idiyot!
- You yourself are the word!
- I'm talking about the mother, YurVedich. All about her. The great Himalayan Masters say: “Blessed are the obstacles; we grow by them!” They also said that the strong in spirit are never born on feather beds or in greenhouses, and the most beautiful flowers grow along the most difficult roads. In an easy life, the soul does not develop, does not grow wiser. Man is divine, all the forces of the Cosmos are dormant in him, but in order to wake them up, develop them, conditions are needed. Roerich was once asked: “What can a person do for Mankind?” And he replied: "The greatest gift that a person can bring to Humanity is to improve himself."
The morning was born pink pink. It is so cold-pink only in the north, but not here, in Moscow. Glory, looking for signs of jaundice, which is not there, notices in the mirror that old age has touched the whiskey with a chilling wing, and left its feathers on the sides.
- You know? What is my mother like?
- I knows.
- Not. You do not know! She is wise to me! Wise! I didn't understand then. Now understand. She is white as a hare. Albinos don't have enough melanin in their blood. Understand?
- Understand.
Her first two children died. Yes, and the third, she didn’t hurt me. She taught me to be independent. So that he himself walked in the forest and was not afraid of wolves. To go to the river. Himself - to the cattle. Himself with the guys. Everywhere - myself! Myself! Myself! I, you saw, was also white at first, like her. Then, when they were sent to a boarding school, it began to get dark, like a father.
- This grief added melanin to the blood. AND?
- What and? Nothing and! I didn't even think… that they loved me like that… And I loved them. And I love. Ayyy. Tie me this stupid tie for God's sake. No caviar left.
- On the.
- Where do you get them, these jars? Are you giving birth?
Chapter sixteen. Name of God.
Cork. The snow again fell abundantly and generously. And still continued to fall through the purified transparent air in the iridescent morning rays. The snow seemed to be looking at itself, as a girl looks at her own New Year's curls, for the first time being at the mirror in a ball gown. Slavka left early, expecting a cataclysm, having changed the car's shoes into winter tires. On the right seat next to the driver is Lebedev. He is in his usual fussy-high spirits, despite another sleepless night. The eyes are shining. Eyebrows move.
- Here, - Lebedev hands Slava a mobile phone.
- What's there?
- Surprise.
Long beeps.
- Mother?
- Yes, son.
- Mom ... - Tears well up in Slava's eyes. “I love you, mom,” he says, choking on the feelings of recent events.
- And I love you, Svetik.
- How are you, mom?
- I bought a new cow. She gave very little milk...
- Mom, I'm sorry ... I didn't call ...
- Why forgive me, I didn’t call - it means that everything was going well, but now, probably, it suddenly became even better ...
- I will come?
- Come on, spring. The garden will bloom, and I will meet in a human way ...
The phone is off. Warbler stares blankly at the empty picture of the cell phone, turns her head questioningly to the professor.
- What? What! - he snaps, feeling a reproach in his eyes and “right off the bat” begins to attack so as not to be beaten with a stool, - then your mother will be a psychologist better than you! ...
Glory was never late. There, behind the walls of the office, society - its field of activity, its bread, mind and conscience - is waiting to be studied. Waiting for help and correction from him.
Slava was never late for this chaotic unpredictable month until he saw her: a thirty-year-old naive beauty that seemed perfect. As Lebedev called this state - "For every wise man there is at least one fool, from whom he is crazy"!
He goes to her. Today he goes to her again.
He knows what to say. He is more confident than ever.
The diva, to whom he flew, for the sake of which he pulled the mustache of Eternity, will smile in surprise, dousing her pupils with icy indifference, and immediately lower her eyes. Or maybe just stop looking at him? For a second? Will he have a second to spread the stars before her? Enough!
What to say? Who cares!
And then he froze, in the waiting mode, tensing the fax spring filled with information.
- Name the name, - asks the Dream of Happiness, lowering the full inaccessibility and detachment professionally preoccupied with work eyes in long lists.
- Svetik, - he says to her, smiling confidently, like an old acquaintance with whom he played in childhood in the same sandbox, and even now he is not averse to fooling around.
- Svetik? Diva raises her eyes. Incredible! She... God. Not! She, his princess, is not laughing! She now smiles not at all coldly. But rather, it's hilarious. It looks like Slavka is interested in her. And even laughed.
- Do you have a surname, "Svetik"? Lightning, what's that name? I haven’t heard anything like this before,” Dorozhkina, instantly rejuvenated, jumped into her fist. She turns to her colleagues from the accounting department to share the good news with them. And those, tearing themselves away from the papers, also surround the overgrown kid, who called himself the name of the child, with intrusive attention of his eyes.
- This is Svetoslav Petrovich Bolshakov! My mother, dear Nadezhda, called me that once, - a fifty-year-old boy in love bows defiantly, - Notice, Bolshakov, sweetie! Not Bashlykov there, some Bathometer or Burmistrov. Bolshakov is alone. And for life.
- Are you sure, Svetik?
- More than ever!
- Then sign it!
- Without hesitation, I can sign with you under any more interesting document. Yes, and by the way, there is an opinion that caviar can be black. If only the bread was white.
Today is pay day.
And in an unbuttoned coat, Svetoslav Petrovich “flies out” of the office doors. Professor Lebedev jumps out of his car towards him:
- Well? Happened?
- You need to add the stars yourself! You are right, Lebedev. A thousand times right!
- Can you humanly explain what you said to her?
- I said the name.
- What is the name?
- Light!
- Light??? And now what?
- And now we're going on vacation together. To Gelendzhik! Can you imagine? Sea! Seagulls! And we two! Happiness!
- Three of us!
- No three of us! And don't even think! I have a honeymoon!
- Up to three turrets at least give a ride?
- I'll give you a ride ... How. See? We got up.
- It's because of us. Nothing. Now let's break everything down. Close your eyes!
- What?
And again, rainbow circles. This time, together with the machine, both ended up in the Abyss between worlds and times. The energy cocoon of Svetoslav's car broke up into a myriad of luminous dots. Lebedev magnetized them with his hand into the top pocket of his jacket.
The commander's office seemed hazy and ghostly, because his friends were watching him from a parallel space. Some scientists, torn from the pulpit, reports to Zak's laboratory:
- For the cultivation of riptides in the balance of the Earth, the temperatures in the region of the Central European part must be kept at the level of a normal embryo for three months.
- 36.6 degrees??? exclaims Lebedev.
- So what? Slava doesn't understand.
- How is that? Can you imagine? In Moscow, the temperature in the summer is from 30 to 40 degrees, artificially maintained?
- Yeah, cool!
- What's cool? What's cool? Hypertensive patients will die from the heat. The grass will turn white! What about fires?
- What are the fires?
“Let’s fly,” Lebedev commanded without a word.
Instantly turning the pocket and the iris onto the usual daytime terrestrial on the Moscow Ring Road, to the hum of cars, Lebedev and Bolshakov slowly roll in difficult movement in the area of the three turrets. Only heat instantly fills every cell of the body. Sweat, like in a sauna, covers the whole body. It becomes sticky. Alien. Nasty. I want to take off my skin. Reset, get out of it like a snake.
Visibility is foggy.
The thermometer shows 38.
The heat immediately makes you drop your outerwear and turn on the air conditioner.
- What's happening?
- We are six months ahead in Moscow. Now we'll find out. Turn on the radio.
- Abnormally hot and dry weather has settled in Moscow and the region, - the radio reported, - The usual temperatures for this period since the beginning of the month have been exceeded by 8-9 degrees, in addition, there was almost no rain in the city. The number of ambulances calls in the Moscow region has not been reduced for the second week, employees of ambulance stations near Moscow reported on Monday to RIA Novosti. The Moscow authorities are actively working to prevent the occurrence of fires in the green areas of the capital during the period of abnormal heat, which makes it possible to reduce the damage from fires to a minimum. According to the Ministry of Emergency Situations, the area of fires in the Moscow region has decreased by almost a quarter - from 174 to 126 hectares. The city suffers from burning and smoke, which causes from the Moscow region, Ryazan and Nizhny Novgorod regions. In Moscow, the twentieth temperature record for the summer is expected. A third of the tested lawns in Moscow did not water in the heat. The oxygen content in the air is almost 4 times lower than normal. Power outages have become 2-4 times more frequent. The Moscow authorities stated that the death rate in the capital has recently "jumped" by half...
- Reptoids grow, parasites.
- In terms of?
- You heard yourself, you need to keep the temperature for several months, which is necessary to maintain the life of the embryo.
- And then?
- They most likely produce hybrids. They themselves cannot live on our planet for more than three days. And they decided to cross the “ferret, badger and corkscrew” ... animals must be funny!
- Similar to people?
- Yes, in the human body, apparently.
Slava looked around and did not recognize the capital. Three turrets, at least, were not visible, although they stood practically under them. The difference between light and shadow disappeared, and the whole city was plunged into gray undertones of continuous foggy smoke. He had never seen such Moscow! Suddenly, he remembered the phrase “irradiated and acknowledged” he had accidentally heard ... What did it mean?
- Aren't you a Reptoid? he glanced warily at Lebedev.
He laughed loudly. His eyebrows, his incredibly long eyebrows, which Bolshakov had never seen on a single person in the world, moved like cockroach whiskers.
- Where would you see a reptoids with blue eyes?
- But then, "grandmother-grandmother, why do you need such big" eyebrows?
- Oh, killer whale, - Lebedev smiled enigmatically, - Now we will find ourselves right at the turrets. Only at the time you came from. Put on a jacket. Turn off the air conditioner. Close your eyes.
- And what about reptoids?
- I don't know yet. There is one person here. It will be necessary to talk, - Lebedev felt in his pocket for a tin can ... - let's go!
AND…
Snow! Slava could not resist and, sweating, went out straight without a jacket after a hot smog into this snow that had just fallen near the Moscow Ring Road. Other drivers, chilled in their cars, looked askance at him.
- God! – he fell to his knees, scooping up an immaculate armful of freezing snowflakes with his palms, - Almighty. Almighty. Omnipotent. Sy. Lord. Existing. Immortal. Eternal…
- Eternal? the ubiquitous Lebedev approached.
- Yes, it is the Eternal!
- What are you? Are you praying? You are an atheist!
- Don't interfere!
- If you're talking about reptoids. So don't worry! They have done these experiments a hundred times already. Well, our planet is not suitable for them to live! Relax Slav. And what are we here for? The universal matrix... it won't allow...
Snow fell on Moscow. Just fell. Fog obscuring skyscrapers. Settled on power lines.
- I don't want to go to the future, - Slava said quietly.
The cell phone rang.
- Svetik? Dorozhkina murmured cheerfully.
Yes, my sunshine! - answered Bolshakov, who instantly changed in his face, - yes, I’m already on my way to get tickets ...
- ghee-ghee-ghee! "So-o-sunshine,"- Lebedev chuckled.
Bolshakov looked at him triumphantly, closing the frog of the phone:
- And what? Could life really get better? So, are you with me?
- I-I-I, - the professor modestly lowered his cunning blue hooligan eyes, - I'll just make sure that the reptoids don't steal you. The whole thing lit up, - and rather flopped into the sheep's pile of the seat, - after all, you must understand me too. It's so cool to watch a new love relationship unfold before our eyes! It's like watching a Hollywood premiere.
"Can't you watch it in the future?"
- You changed the position of the stars. True, I did not fully understand how you did it ... how did you guess, colleague!
- So, you suggested.
- Yes?... Sclerosis! - Lebedev hit himself on the forehead, deliberately.
The snow began to fall even more forcefully. Probably God, Siy, Immortal, Almighty, or whatever it is, decided to please the Muscovites with a luxurious gift, knowing that it would rain ahead. And then the heat. Smoke... Only for some reason the capital was not happy. Angrily squealing with the bald tires of cars, the Moscow Ring Road held the agitated gut of the cork with blinders. The drivers viciously turned on and off the motors, spitting crushed, bitten cigarette butts right into the front view windows into the snow, not removed by trucks that were called to fight the "elements" but stood in the same traffic jam, toughening the situation. And he kept falling. White-white. Clean-clean. Immaculate. Sy. Almighty. Unkillable.
Slava flashed a phrase from Lebedev that it was useless to argue about what comes first - ice, water or steam ...
Snow. Primary snow.
The snow peacefully tried to refresh the earth, tortured and torn by people. But Slava knew that this snow was already in the past.

                2009       

PART TWO


"If you have to go through hell, go as fast as you can."
(Winston Churchill)

CONTENT OF THE SECOND PART:
Chapter seventeen. Martian civilization on the planet Earthlings.
Chapter eighteen. Computer throwing Lebedev.
Chapter nineteen. Birth of Hope in Faith.
Chapter twenty. Age-old sadness.
Chapter twenty-one. First stir.
Chapter twenty-two. Montezuma and Malinal.
Chapter twenty-three. Cortes. What about Cortez?
Chapter twenty-four. Malinal.
Chapter twenty-five. Green finger.
Chapter twenty-six. Birth of Faith in Hope.


Chapter seventeen. Martian civilization on the planet Earthling
The bulb of the sun splashed into his eyes so sharply that Lebedev burst into tears. The merciless noon hung in space like the sound of a very distant bell. In the whirlpool of the celestial solstice, time spun around the diamond-white luminary infinitely many times per second. Hypnotically. Like the Bermuda pendulum of a clock that has lost its brakes. And Lebedev fell into the future, seeing the garden. Whatever she touched, a short gray-haired woman, everything was given to her in a lush harvest. They say about such people, they say, a person has the gift of a “green finger”.
That's just why this event, which has not yet happened with the "green finger", suddenly magnetized? This peasant woman, without looking at him through time, as usual, wives communicate with husbands with whom they have lived for decades, with admiration, reproach and deep philosophy!
What is this new projection?
Lure of observers? Does not look like it.
What then?
We all hope for the future, and it is for us!!!
For three days, Lebedev woke up in the middle of the night in anticipation of the second part of the prophecy, perceiving it as a global nightmare of a new love, or smelling the assemblage point or the upcoming starry crossroads of the superimposition of worlds, as cats do. Now it was not YurVedich who made plans to move in time - but space was vibrating, trying to throw itself galactically and fly through it ...

***
Moreover, mixed with the future, for some reason, very ancient visions of the death of the Martian civilization seeped through the veins, incinerating the bones from the inside, passed through the skin, broke the adhesions and ligaments of consciousness ...
Fear and horror. Horror and Fear. In Russian, it sounded like Phobos and Deimos - this is how the Greeks dubbed both moons, twins looking towards Mars due to the peculiarity of rotation around their axes at the same speed as this red planet, reflected in the glass of shop windows, loomed over the clouds as crazy ghosts buzzed in my ears.
Lebedev, pregnant with these forebodings, pinched his solar plexus, even when he drank morning coffee and tried to get away from people as soon as possible so that they would not see the approach of an asteroid in the looking glass of bright, anxious blue eyes.
He was suddenly thrown back 70 thousand years ago.
The asteroid did reach Mars.
Chirk…
The shudder of a gray shapeless iron ice mass crashing into the barrel of the Martian moon Deimos caused fireworks in the Martian sky. A whirlwind bent the bluish grass gray. From the pyramids of control called "Keys to Heaven" small turntables were blown away. Only heavy greenish-turquoise interplanetary giants did not budge.
Part of the Martians took refuge in the underground labyrinths, but immediately regretted it, because Deimos came close to the planet, as well as to its moon, striking on the surface of Mars, giving rise to an incredibly growling rattle, and many entrances of underground communications were forever covered with soil. Phobos twisted away, losing the gravity of the orbit. The atmosphere was discharged to a state unsuitable for life.
Earth began to noticeably move away from Mars.
Triaxial ellipsoids Phobos (Greek ;;;;; "fear") and Deimos (Greek ;;;;;; "horror") - both satellites revolved around their axes with the same period as around Mars, forever turning their faces to the planet on the same side. The tidal influence of Mars began to gradually slow down the movement of Phobos, reducing its orbit, the Martians realized that, in the end, this would lead to the fall of the satellite on Mars. Deimos, on the contrary, began to move away.
Astronomers gave a disappointing conclusion - if in a week the interplanetary do not leave the planet, with the remaining Martians, the Earth will reach the maximum point of removal, and civilization cannot be saved. A general mobilization was announced.
Authentically obediently, without crushing each other at all, the Martians, like thousands of ants, dragged their multifunctional houses, systems of crystalline emergency and building control structures, food supplies, clothes to the ships ...
One by one they went to the most suitable part of the land of the Earthlings in MesoAmerica. Their turquoise "loaves" of ships, several kilometers long with many "sausages" attached at the bottom, walked heavily, making ominous sounds.
The groups of botanists descended first. Studying the soil, scientists have determined that plants that previously grew on Mars may well be useful on Earth if they are specially looked after. The main thing they found: there was plenty of water. Near-water areas were immediately sown with corn. Tall and rough in their cruelty, the aliens discovered the small stature of the natives ...
The second landing arrived almost the next day. From above, small aircraft appeared like a scattering of fleas. The Martians did not hesitate to treat the locals unceremoniously. If on Mars, according to the strictest intergalactic laws, it was forbidden to use other people's houses - here it has not been forbidden by anyone yet. If on Mars females were cared for once a month and under contract, there were plenty of “raw materials” wandering around. Among other things, a lot of edible things grew on the trees. And from the baked fermented cacti, it was possible to drive intoxicating drinks to thin the Martian blood.
Transformer residential buildings quickly unfolded like umbrellas by the thousands. Under the control of crystals, they, losing weight, became lighter than a feather, moved along with internal computer communications in the right direction, changed shape, volume, color, composition. Worked on solar panels.
500 thousand Martians settled on the Earth of America already with the third landing.
Energy - not frightened - primitive - sweet was extracted from plants, water, emotions of earthlings. Tore a child in half - energy! He caught a trembling girl, dragged her behind the stones - energy! He took out the heart of a monkey from his chest - others are shaking with fear - energy! Blood flowed like a river. Containers of energies were pressed, conserved, collected for the future!
They did not go to another continent. Everything there was occupied by white tribes ruled by the Magi. A couple of times burned from collisions. Calmed down. Engaged in local.
Shamans and their peoples quickly learned the technology of the Martians. But more and more energy food was required for unwrapping and enslavement, because the appetites grew. The aliens are crazy about fat!
The president of Mars, Onoul, was the last to leave the planet, which was becoming red every day, as if engorged with gore. As the most skilled of all time travelers, he prepared for unexpected teleportation, so he donned togas fitted with thick leather belts of brown flying Kazaal reptiles, shimmering with greenish scales, on which gold buckles gleamed dully.
The President's last ship to land was smaller than the others but dazzled those who greeted them with a resplendent retinue adorned with the green feathers of the flying giant serpent lizard Quetzalkoyatl.
Both Martians and people gathered at the foot of the stone truncated pyramid.
On the upper platform there are about a hundred Magi.
At the peak of the celebration itself, an unauthorized point appeared in the sky, which quickly turned into a silently approaching tungsten ball, from which five three-meter-tall human species with impassive beautiful faces and elongated eyes emerged. Telepathically, they sounded a note of protest:
- You understand, Onoul, that 500 thousand developed Martian creatures on a small Earth will completely spoil the organic process of human development with technology. They are like children!
-I don't care! – yelled the President of Mars, - I need to think about my people, not about earthlings!
- We warned you, - orderlies of the Universe answered calmly. - Next, blame yourself.
- I think that Mars is no longer suitable for life!
We warned you about Mars too. You did not hear the law of the Universe, - Three-meter aliens also reacted without words.
- So it was you who killed our satellites? My Mars???
The galactic law enforcement returned without comment on the ramp to the flying ball, and instantly retired, first turning into a distant point, then disappearing altogether.
- Because of these reptiles, we must now adapt to the fact that we are all disgusted! the enraged President shouted after him, but looking back, he decided to replenish the outflow of energy on earthlings.
Earth, unlike Mars, gave good harvests. But the Martians, basking in the arms of local all-permissive women, generatively began to exterminate men. Geneticists, through practical experiments, created new Earth-Martians in the laboratories. Optometrists quickly reacted on how to draw energy from death. America was already buckling from the blood pouring from every airstrip built in the form of a truncated pyramid. The hearts of the locals were torn out in public, their heads were cut off, their bellies were torn open, and the insides were taken out ...
Lebedev resisted the visions of the past as best he could, but as soon as he closed his eyes, the whirlwinds were picked up by a stellar spraying whirlwind. Breaking out of the darkness, the professor entered the body of the shaman, who was awakened by the Martian:
- Get up! Nalu! Get up! Onoul gathers everyone at its site again!
Steps too high for human growth Nalu overcame with difficulty. My ankles hurt from lack of oxygen. Fortunately, he took with him and hid a leather flask of water in his pocket.
- Eyes down! - the herald shouted to the buzz of Caribbean shells, scratching the nerves of thousands of people with vibrations, - Sideways! Rise sideways so as not to look into the faces of the gods!
Water helped to overcome cramps in the shaman's senile legs. Downstairs, it seemed, all the people had gathered. And I didn't want to go upstairs. The Martians, who occupied the Earth, set up pyramidal stone stands for their aircraft. And the people of the earth revered these new structures as churches of the gods. At the largest of them, at the so-called teocalli, the president's entourage was waiting. That's who always turned out to be bad jokes. And going upstairs, the local clergy were forbidden to look up into the faces of those who flew in from the sky. The path to the President's platform did not go straight, but all the time to the right in a spiral, repeating the serpentine of an ascending vortex swastika. Nalu had nothing to fear. And Lebedev, who found himself in his body, even more so.
When everyone gathered, the shamans unanimously picked up the lonely trumpet sounds, and now the entire command staff in golden robes began to play sonorously on the ocean shells. Onoul came very close to the shamans of the Earth:
- Today, shamans, you will receive the status of the priests of the Great flying lizard god Quetzalcoatl, - Onoul showed the natives with a grin on his own space animated ship, - In honor of this event, Heaven requested 500 women! Today you will bring and collect the hearts of young beautiful women... virgins!
The earthlings froze.
The fire lit by the Martians in the center of the teokalle shuddered. The reflections of the flame were reflected on a large well-turned round black sacrificial stone with a recess in the middle and with a copper ring.
A scream of horror and fear swept from below. It meant death. Well, if it was possible after the atrocities of aliens to find here at least half of what the President requested, but together with the men. The Shaman Priests took a cowardly step back.
- This is mistake! Some mistake! shouted Professor Lebedev through his mouth to Nalu.
- What you said? – peered into the earthy face of the aborigine Onoul, - lower your eyes! Who are you that you can talk to me? So to speak?
- What difference does it make who I am!? You can't kill these women! The planet will be empty, and there will be no one to give birth to children! And if there are no children, there will be no one to cultivate the fields. And, if there is no one to harvest, then you and your people will not live to see the first downpour!
The President was taken aback by the stranger's audacity, and this made him take a closer look at the geometric energies surrounding him. And then Omole grinned.
Chapter eighteen. Computer throwing Lebedev.

None of the books said a word about the ancient Mexican civilization.
A small copy of the Statue of Liberty, the symbol of America, settled on the professor's desktop, he peered at it for a long time, waiting for the new Kama-nada-rdrata, but never did. And at the request to return oneself in the days of the Martian coming to earth did not work.
And if the notorious Freedom, about which so much is now pouring from the West, was divorced from intelligence, common sense and a good heart, it now seemed to Lebedev the most insidious and harmful danger!

***
Slavka Bolshakov, having become engaged to his amiable Dorozhkina, was now diligently engaged in honeymoons, and the world swept across the ecliptic of his house at breakneck speed. Winter was replaced by spring, summer was already waving handkerchiefs behind it, forcing us to gnaw our elbows for another vacation spent in Gelendzhik ... but he did not remove the Christmas tree ...
It seems like a second has passed - and he is married! A moment! ... and somewhere from the first wife children blossomed! One after another, grandchildren were born... And this did not seem to concern him, as if God and the world matrix, after an instant temporary respite that fit into the winter-spring transition, had completely different strategic plans for Bolshakov.
A moment - one moment - but in all Moscow institutions during this time “office plankton” changed several times ... and now Svetoslav Petrovich was recognized only by a validator, identifying electronic facial features on a club card ... A moment - one moment - but how painful and irrevocable old mother...
Looking at her photo, thrown on Vatsap, Bolshakov was more sad because of the impossibility of returning the motherly face, framed by blond, very light blond hair, which he saw from the dying body of grandmother Katerina, with peach cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.
At the same time, this moment is an eternity when he has not seen Verochka's beloved eyes for at least an hour, without thinking about whether she also loves him universally passionately or not. The heart believed that it would find a way to reciprocity.
…And here is the paradox!!! They did not change - these enchanting lakes of wife and mother remained ageless. Well, perhaps a bit - their deep shadows deepened. The eyes of the two main women in the life of Svetoslav Bolshakov, as they were beloved, remained, forcing them to suffocate daily from an unexpected discovery: Love is eternal!

***
He called his mother more often now, once a week.
I'll die, don't worry too much. I'm not forever!
This strange statement of the mother followed everywhere. She said, laughing, even somehow affectionately. And Slava paid no particular attention.
Waiting for spring, as agreed.
And he waited for the garden to bloom in order to show his wife his dear home.
Dorozhkina fascinated him more and more. In fact, it resembled a young potato, not rich, not cloying, not fully formed starch. So, he couldn't get enough to eat.

***
YurVedich, who remained for the long rest of the winter without Slavka and his honeymoon in splendid isolation, however, did not despair at all, but tried to unravel the ribbing of space, calling for adventure the softest place of his nature - his amazing and unique brain!
Thoughts like impudent, masterful devils swarmed in the brain, then it seemed they were already jumping around, pinching and biting! They also came in dreams, jumping on the shoulders in the evenings almost on every step of the Moscow metro. Sometimes Lebedev even regretted that he was without a notebook and a pencil, because with age, practical thoughts began to simply be forgotten, erased from memory. Fall behind, jump on others, probably. And when he got to a blank sheet of paper, like a mirror, the professor rarely found their reflections!!!
But there were other thoughts that gave birth to world discoveries of building matrices and graphs. It is possible that these were no longer thoughts, but thoughts. Industries. Conclusions. Like that notorious “logos” that friends argued with Onufry in the old church. Those didn't go away. They were married to Professor Sky. Even then, thoughts were already leading, entwining after Lebedev - and he was already following them. Only a follower. They are leading. Those thoughts in which the GENERAL SPACE Goals are embedded. Symbols. Revelations. Meanings.

***
Real spring came only at the beginning of May after global snow and no less global cascade of downpours.
But the winter cold, clinging to the feet of the coming heat in the past, did not allow the earth to warm up.
The future teased with the unknown. There the soul will take root in other bodies.
At the crossroads, Lebedev broke down. Stuck in computer games. Allowed to escape from the real life of the present, future and past. At all. To the virtual world.
Grows from beginner to gamer. Repeated the growth of the fetus in the mother's abdomen. Only in Virchuel - in the non-existent, the same fictional, non-fictional, material and non-material soul at the same time.
Her little worm crawls out of the Ocean. The universal mind observes the change of this worm for deviation. Gives new people with a new mind. With new features. In a new incarnation.
And, if there is a change already at that stage of the worm, the Universe peers into its uterine development with interest and admiration.
- Here it is - the growth of civilization! - shouted the professor who won the difficult stage of the computer game, - Here it is - the future of the Earth! Galaxies! Space! Here it is the spiral development of the soul as a representative of the race! Slavka, can you hear me?
- Don't interfere. I'm working, - Svetoslav was indignant at Lebedev's calls, stupid, as it seemed to him then.
- You did not understand! In the memory of the system, the great-great-grandchildren of the worm are deposited to make - to improve in creativity. In building a new...
- What did you find new in Warcraft? This old toy lying around...
- I'm new, - the professor replied in all seriousness, - And what I say is a world discovery! Something is born ninety-nine percent exactly like the one that just left. But it is to this one percent that God's efforts are directed. Space! A myriad of stars. She is similar. This game. This is the victory of life over birth. Yes. But habits are different.
- Listen leave me alone…
- O! These adults! - exclaimed YurVedych, - your adult habits appeared in the womb. You reincarnated from a spermatozoon into a lizard - From a lizard to a reptile - Then the tail falls off - You, screaming, ahead of science, according to the law of the triumph of rebirth ...
Lebedev heard short beeps of an interrupted connection to his incoherent fragments of thoughts, and, staring at the monitor, continued to pronounce what was important at that moment:
- "It's not my fault," the educated soul cries, "that the teachers chose me!" The creation of the base of the future civilization now depends only on it...

***
Lebedev thought that he was in this world, or in the world of the past, or in the future, but he got into the computer!
Enchanted by him. Managed by him. Candy-Candy his face. cute with big eyes
like an alien. Powerful quantum machine control.
He liked living in a car with a fabulously intriguing space. Pretty even somehow. Get into the game. Don't answer for anything. Everything is done by the program.
Maybe the same gods from the same notorious Mars, or from Nibiru, that bred millions of creatures on earth, also play in us?
There are fish in the sea. There are birds in the sky.
People are in games. Lebedev again and again hung in a computer toy. It was good to see the world in pictures. The comics were addicting. Lost their will.
Something terrible was coming. Or the unknown, which is essentially the same thing.
And Lebedev so in virchuela accumulated strength.
But the remnants of will twitched. Reason threw him back to the Romans five thousand years ago. And then the future magnetized and he got into the chat again. And he couldn't get out without outside help. Weak. And only Svetoslav pulled out a phone call:
- It is forbidden! Enchanted! Bewitched by machines that play people...
- And here's what I understand, - heatedly continued the conversation started a few days ago, and returning to the present, the professor said, - People sometimes get colossal with the energy of electronics. Because she is that the birth of a child. There are thousands of invariants of the selected events.
- Lebedev, you're crazy! I'm telling you as a sociologist. Leave the computer! There is a narrowing of consciousness. Both in toys and on Facebook.
- Explain. Why the narrowing? I think I…
- Provide a diagram. The social network allows 5 thousand friends. But only twenty see you. Only those who approve of you see. You delete comments you don't like. And people you don't like. An illusion of some narcissism is created. Everyone on social media is right! They are supported by friends and relatives. And, if someone says a different opinion, they are either deleted or accused of being envious. This is dangerous because of the lack of personal growth, Lebedev. Same thing: in the game. You are walking the path that the creators of the path calculated for you in advance ...
- You don't believe in me?
- I don't believe in God either.
- By the way, in vain. When energy is drained from us, the second reality is also pumped out.
- Lebedev, well, you got it! You've hit the computer! Into the box! You are a lizard again, and then? You turn into a cell. All knowledge, like the shell of an egg, peels off, like an old woman who has inhaled the fumes of poisonous paint!
- What are you talking about?
- Wait a minute. Let me finish the thought. Then I'll tell you about the old woman! What about the system? Will she forgive your wandering? Have you confused the mother's womb and the car? You're an idiot!
YurVedich finally took offense, turned around, and not only through himself, but also through Slavka. Like a river of life Pushed away from his handset and fell with his eyes forward. The pupils hit the barrier between time, like the surface of water.
The flash burned them both.
- What have you done? Let's go blind! You yourself taught me ... Ahhh.
- See? The source of the deep "underground?" water? - YurVedych hooked Slavka by the elbow, and dragged him several hundred years ahead, - Unite, as a common powerful planetary computer, implements all the historical basic knowledge of the super surface and everyone who is before, and those who are now, and every newly born organism that has not yet separated from matrices of times! Not Jesus Christ takes upon himself all the sins and those before him, and those that are in time and those that are after, but what you called a box! Car! Onenet!
- It had to be done by kidnapping me from home half an hour before dinner.
- Yes! Exactly half an hour before dinner! For ahead of us both "Great things await, Sir!" Believe me. And I'm your friend. Automatically, people help themselves and their loved ones to go 100-200 years ahead, where it is not so interesting. Because people will get tired of living further. They will go to the astral more often. Like a breather. This is the future. Novels and books will turn into short messages. Mini communication. Mini stories. Life will start to get shorter. It will become more and more uninteresting. More computer. The mechanisms are known. The path is predetermined. But your personal path - one percent - your personal chance to "save" and create a new round of civilization will remain!!! Your salvation and mine are in the development of the Abyss! And, if God took note of your soul, and allowed us to talk about this process now, discuss it, comprehend, then the Universe has a chance!
Friends were again in Gelendzhik. This time the city was coming out of winter and actively preparing for the maritime season. However, the beach was empty. And they, as before, without saying a word, rolled up their trousers and went to wander along the coast along the soft, not aggressive, but still cold sea wave.
Bolshakov took a deep breath and laid his hand on his heart, which was tired of rushing around the worlds after Lebedev.
- It's trouble! - meanwhile, Lebedev shouted, shouting over the world that had lagged behind his mind for a couple of millennia, - The enormously underestimated self-esteem of modern souls is a problem of cosmic scale!
Lebedev, waving his hand, set up protection from observers so that they would not prevent him from speaking out. Now thin streams of ether, like protective screens, did not allow the hostile world of materialized souls to penetrate into the conversation of scientists.
Lebedev spoke very loudly and excitedly, but, except for Slavka and the waves, it was as if no one else heard him.
- Do you know what the real Ethers of the crazy Galaxy are? Our Milky Way, well, we can say, two-thirds of its size, right now they are looking into us. You feel?
Slavka shook his head negatively.
He didn't feel it.
- Ah-ah-ah! - continued his half-crazy friend, - Many thousands of eyes! Studying souls! Have we matured for them? Not? Oh! No… And this is interesting. Let me admire Lebedev and Bolshakov. - the professor scoffed, - To inquire ...
Slavka listened patiently. He was used to such attacks by a friend.
- These inquisitive and wise giant ethereal superbeings can sniff our worlds! Touch them! Look into your eyes! shouted Lebedev. To sniff our eyes like this, - and Lebedev began to portray how a dog sniffs food, - fu-fu-fu ...!!!
In the meantime, ethereal beings of shell-silvery and bluish sparkling color really surrounded them, coming out of the sea like heroes, and for a split second even Slavka could see them. Or maybe it did.
“They are very interested in supporting our life,” continued the professor, bowing ostentatiously to the invisible deities, “to observe the development of our life. Participate in it. To guide those who see, feel, sometimes hear, like kittens to a saucer with the milk of knowledge. Those who understand what they whisper eye to eye. The phenomenon of the timeless past-future of the galaxy. He is multi-star beautiful.
“However,” Bolshakov smiled, “for thousands of years, psychopaths have been striving not for knowledge, but for money and power.
- These were the lower astral. Roughly speaking, their antipodes. They took over the world!!! – Lebedev dismissed, – and the galactic Observers, too, by the way.
The moon came out, as one of the main relaxations. Its reflection, cut by waves into thousands of long luminous ribbons, lit up in the sea.
Lebedev took Slavka by the hand and they found themselves in the kitchen, where Verochka was roasting chicken for dinner.
Kitchen tiles from the walls stared at this picture with hundreds of eyes.
- To see different images in the tiles... - Lebedev asked the hostess, - did someone succeed?
- A thousand times, - answered the newly made wife of Bolshakov. And she hugged her husband, condescendingly looking at the hungry spasm on the guest's neck.
Ceramic tiles, painted as the paint lays down, showed both the owner and other inhabitants of the house different faces each time!
- Please to the table! Verochka invited.
- Another time, - Lebedev muttered in an offended tone, at her condescending patronizing tone, and returned to his computer.
On the monitor, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the reflection of a three-meter Guardian of Time.
Not at all frightened, but more trying to answer something, only to himself, throwing off the traveler's whirling cloak, Lebedev calmly and judiciously said:
- Forbidden outfit is my life! Yes?
"Yes," the observer confirmed.
- Reflection in the Shroud…. Or on a computer. Can you hear me? Are you standing next to me? Behind the back? Or from a neighboring galaxy?
The reflection was silent this time.
- I know you? I know... I've seen you before, hundreds of times, it seems. Yes?
The reflection lowered its eyes.
- Am I right about that? People, some souls, don't reincarnate. These are the Guardians of Time. They hit rocks. Into the rocks to the waterfalls. Into the trees. In images on icons. In statues. In old dolls. They get stuck in them. Frightening. Manipulating. Absorbing energy. Say yes! Only one word.
- Yes.
- You have different images. Always different faces! The game of waves and sea. Sea foam. Relaxation of the moon in Gelendzhik…
- You are one of the prophets! - the ghost consoled with a metallic voice, - You are a genius! Did you want to hear it?
- Yes.
The meaningful look of the guardian of time doll went out. It slowly dissolved.
- Hey! Wait a minute! Since you've come... and so calm... Should I get ready for the main work?
- Yes - answered in the affirmative silently look.

Chapter ninetieth. Birth of Hope in Faith.
After the bath, Dorozhkina involuntarily admired her newly made husband, and she froze from the revival of consciousness, carried away by the charm of multi-colored beauty, which seemed to her divine. Pink-scarlet cheeks steamed in the steam room. Incredibly deep blue eyes. Slightly touched at the temples of gray curly dark blond hair. A delicate gentle smile of well-defined bright lips that do not hide an even row of healthy teeth. But the main thing is the light of love in all words and gestures, as reciprocal admiration for her, her body, face, soul, deeds. All, to a single, trifles. Precautionary politeness and compliance, maturity, solidity, which is called a gentle character.
- Bolshakov! You're spoiling me! - she could not hold back admiration, and for some reason added almost in a whisper, - ... you ... are so beautiful ...
- Yes, where is it?! ... You will also say, - the man was embarrassed, for some reason correcting his forelock.
But this love, finally, awakened reciprocity, removing the cloudy veil of dislike from the eyes.

***
The aspen dried up in the forest, which stood without branches not far from the mother's house. Branches have been torn off by the wind. Not an aspen, but a pole, in some places even without bark.
What would not cut down!
Nadezhda took the axe. Cut down.
- Doom-m-m! a dry tree has fallen. It hit the ground with a crooked top.
Sawed for a long time. I got tired. She took away a few logs in a wheelbarrow. Chopped wood. Tired.
Feed the cow slowly. She slowly walked out into the yard.
Stood. I looked at the sky. What is that dry aspen without branches. There are no children around. Spring. But the heart is not happy. The heart is tired of rejoicing in the springs.
What was Nadezhda trying to see in that sky?
And from sadness, probably, inescapable sadness spilled from the sky. Yes, not rain, but belated cold snow.
Winter!
Sadness that song descended. Song of separation. She wrapped the first green grass in a shroud.

***
In the morning Slavka had a dream. It is as if he is walking through a cherry orchard, the black branches are so densely covered with flowers that you can hardly see them! Gentle wind gently shakes them. The thinnest, lightest, fragrant petals of blossoming cherries are torn off and thrown under Slavka's feet. And it is as if Slavka is walking right along the carpet of these white petals.
And he sees: to meet him in a brilliant dress - mother! And she looks like she's young. Her blond hair, like that of a hare, the breeze gently sways. She spread her arms. Slavka ran like a child to be lifted from the ground...
And woke up.

***
- Light! Bird cherry! Verochka exclaimed.
The husband immediately reacted, as if ordered. Stopped the car.
Not far from the country roads, a wide tall bird-cherry tree exuded a blissful aroma. Drawn by its splendor, as if bewitched, lovers instantly found themselves under it. Lips pulled to lips. Hands - hands.
Spring!
In a fit of passion, they forgot about everything, and that observers could appear at any moment, that YurVedich was also ready to glare from behind a tree that they were finally going to their mother's house.
Everything!
They kissed, hiding in the white-foam branches, crazy - brains to fly! Kissed to death. To the ache of the universal. Their bodies merged so violently that the pillow of the sky cracked, and May snow fell from it in white fluff.
Looks like a cloud that overturned inopportunely with the May snow on the parental house, wandered across the sky to them.

***
The May thunderstorm was spreading across the district. There is a lot of wind. Little rain. And on the edges of the clouds - snow. Not everyone got it, but who got it.
Pollen was knocked off the roof of Nadezhda by a downpour, but everything was drained into an irrigation barrel! The greenish nectar was churned with milk.
Pollen spun like a tornado in the Caribbean Sea, returning ...
Autumn!
The Soul, tired of living, took up. I succumbed to the charm of vortex flows. Flew off.
- Ah-ah-ah-ah...

***
Suddenly Svetik saw a black circle-ring inside the multi-star abyss. In the black circle there is a bright flash of a blue galaxy with a blue rim, like a maple leaf, a broken star - a supernova, in the center of which there is a bright white-yellow light, from which cracks in the veins went. The leaf of that galactic blue fire burns brighter and brighter, as if calling and beckoning to look into this wild primordial light of an animal love mutual orgasm.
Summer!

***
The black circle is galactic among the stars - a pipe - a move. And inside - a red maple leaf with a burgundy border. In the center is an all-devouring white fire, like an eye sharply looking into the soul, not blinking. Approaching.
Death. Birth. Antideath. Interlife.
With a bright flash, the Soul of Hope was contemplating growing from it, from this light the red maple leaf crumbled, as if someone had taken this fire, and stirred it up with an internal stick. A powerful energy cry, at the very moment when the young woman screamed, and her son screamed in response, broke the space into many red-fiery coals in the darkness. Cosmic cold extinguished these hissing coals. And the point of light grew into an orange. Orange - in a watermelon. Watermelon - in the sun. The sun - into the wide divine light, enveloping the misty, sperm-cloudy lake of new birth with the soft tenderness of clouds.
The soul calmed down. And I got what I wanted.
Timelessness!

***
Ah-ah-ah, - Vera Anatolyevna Dorozhkina shouted uncontrollably and shamelessly under the bird cherry tree.
The sky suddenly lit up with white light.
Chapter Twenty. Age-old sadness.
Encased in a tailed fetus, Her Majesty's Soul suffered. Perhaps many times stronger than he once suffered from some strange, inherited lack of demand for Bolshakov. I wanted to forget something. Bitter. Proud.
Loneliness!

***
- Say the name of God, - YurVedich whispered to the rebellious Soul.
- How to know the name of God?
You already called...
- When?
- Remember! You have to suffer, to realize...
The soul sobbed on the chest of YurVedich, so only alcoholics revel in sobs in a heavy hangover or inveterate sinners that twist themselves at the faces of saints in the church.
- I don’t want to-u-u more zhii-i-it! - sobbed the poor fellow ...
 YurVedich was frightened. Instantly teleported back.

***
- Listen, here is such a thing ... - the professor appeared, not dusty in front of Bolshakov, right at the cemetery.
- I accept your condolences, - Slavka answered sharply. The jaws played on the cheeks.
- You see ... how to explain it to you in a popular way ... - YurVedych whispered, - your Vera is pregnant.
- Come on? When she had time, she only had these things ...???
I even know who's inside...
Svetoslav's eyes bulged so much that they became square.
- Your mother is there, Slav!
- ???
- And she suffers ... I'm afraid we can lose the fetus ...
- And what to do?
- Say the name of God.
- Again?
- Again. Just not for you. And to her. your mother. Hope! She's creepy out there. Absolutely dark! I don't know what to do… Really. Maybe you can talk to her?
- And what do you propose?
- I? the professor pretended to be indifferent. But not for long. And then he whispered again, like a man possessed, as if the graves of the cemetery could overhear all this difficult conversation. - Well, since we could enter the brain of the dying grandmother Katerina Lavrentyevna together, then even more so into the amniotic fluid!
- You just, I beg you, don't tell Verochka anything! - Slava finally got involved in the difficult problem.
- Yes, she still does not know that she is pregnant. Just a few days! I don’t know how my soul got stuck there. Slightly warm...
- Hearty!
Warbler sighed, thinking whether or not to tell YurVedych about the happiness he had experienced... he decided to say, - We can see it under the bird cherry trees... I saw those peptide circles of timelessness there.
- So, your mother just at that moment departed into another world, and immediately found herself in your fetus!
- I wouldn't believe it... if...
- Do you believe...
- Now your only God is MOM! Remember?
- Uh, - muttered Svetoslav, puzzled in earnest.
- Don't pray!
Bolshakov nodded obediently.
- And she - he - or it's in trouble. Your God is a mother, and your future child is in big trouble! Her future and yours, and mine and Vera's - depends on us. The word must be found for her. Understand?
- Yes, - I understand, - answered Slavka, - Word! At first there was a word - God's providence ... Thought.
- First there was a secret!

***
- Do not interfere with me to taste the light bliss of paradise, - Soul whispered to YurVedych.
- Get out!
- I'm growing...!

***
- Mother?
- Mother? Oh yes. You are my son. I remember you. You didn't love me.
- I loved!
- Not. I know. Nobody here can cheat.
So I'm telling the truth.
- Yes? Then why have I been lonely all my life?
…
And the pain cut two souls.
And the third - YurVedycha, who was nearby:
- That's because he got into it! I told you! Even got out of the car! Mother must be loved!

***
At this time, for some unknown reason, heartburn burned the stomach of a pregnant woman - and a stream of bitter water poured from her mouth. And then only one acid, poisonous, caustic, seized the teeth so that the enamel cracked.
- Why do pregnant women feel sick?
- And you will eat a pickled cucumber, - the husband was compassionate.
- What cucumber? Svetoslav? When is black caviar available? - YurVedich immediately oriented himself in space, - eat, mother. Get well soon!

***
The new journey gave a new answer of the Soul:
“You didn’t love me,” she told God the Son, God the Father, her only truth, and was not horrified by her ugliness. She seemed so immodest. And far from subtle. This is not how she behaved in real life. Now she was not afraid to offend. Not afraid to upset.
- You didn't help when you were digging potatoes. In spring the ground is heavy. The loin was aching from the shovel. Only a bath and saved your mother. And you didn't help!
- Mother! Mommy! Just be born, dear! Legs! I will kiss your feet! Wash poop after you from diapers. I will love you to the grave! Mother!
Soul smiled.
She didn't answer.
Tenderness enveloped the space.
Grace.
- I believes. But I don't want to mess around anymore. I'm tired, my Light.

***
Violating the Laws of the Galaxy every day, pulling the Abyss endlessly with his travels, YurVedych now more often began to retire with Bolshakov in the corridor, although neither of them smoked. Dorozhkina felt slightly nauseous, but she did not pay much attention to it, not yet knowing what was going on inside her.
Lebedev spoke without stopping, offering different versions. So. And by phone. And in the multiple messages that he sent while Slavka was sleeping with his wife. I even had to turn off the phone at night from these “brainstorming sessions”.
- Lebedev, - Slavka could not stand the wild pressure, - Why didn't you become a writer?
- In the third grade, I went out into space, spied on how the harpist was reciting a saga song at the crossroads of three roads. Well, in his style-manner, I scribbled an essay on the topic of how I spent the summer: “And we went. And we see the forest. And we entered this forest. And there were apparently no mushrooms. AND…"
- "So what?
- The teacher in Russian language and literature crossed out all my "and", and slapped a shameful triplet. For if you are a student, and not a writer, and even more so not a researcher, not a scientist, if you please learn the spelling of this year of civilization! "And" do not confuse tenses with style!

Chapter twenty-one. First stir.
Verochka was preparing to become a mother, because the test showed two strips.
She announced this news to Svetik solemnly squealing. He pretended not to know anything and picked it up in his arms. Wandered around the room. Arranged a magnificent evening in the best restaurant in Moscow.
The fruit is ripe. He was reluctant to communicate with interlocutors penetrating into the amniotic fluid. This meant that the Soul itself had not yet made a final decision whether to be born in this World or not.
The mother carrying a new Soul, the son of this soul in the past-present life and the father in the future, if there is a successful "outcome" Svetik, and of course, the extraordinary personality of YurVedich - they all watched how the new body was preparing to make the first movement.
The error of movements once, about which Verochka did not even know, should have happened. And so, it happened.
- What are you doing here buffoonery? – observers burst in unexpectedly, – do you understand that you are violating the Laws of the Universe?
YurVedych began to yell, knowing with whom he was dealing. With those who insectized Mars! Unsuccessful movement, and it will be sprayed, dispelled:
- Yes, we are trying to save the soul-suicidal sufferer here ...
- What-o-o? Karma? How dare you break the rings of Samsara?
The observers began to check in on the accursed, elusive Lebedev. He would have castled a long time ago. But he didn't want to leave without Slavka.
The tension grew.
- It's my fault! - Slavka shielded his friend, - I!
- In what? - the observers indifferently asked for additional information, what are you guilty of? Do you even understand yourself?
- ... I did not love her like ...
- How?
- How I love it now!
Love and Knowledge are two essences, why people are sent to Earth, and the Observers hesitated. After all, Slavka named the code of one of them:
- How do you love now?
“More than life…” Slavka whispered firmly and quietly, surprised at his own insight. His heart wept. And he felt that the heart of his future daughter immediately responded, and beat off with a quivering beating, only a little faster.
So, you're ready for an exchange? We acknowledge you, and he stays?
"I'm ready," Bolshakov exclaimed without listening to the question.
And then something suddenly happened to the suffering soul of the mother.
- No-a-a-a-am! her strange nature growled. - This is my home! And this is my son! I've been waiting for death all my life to see the dream of birth! To find out to the end - where and what is the reason, and how to remove this guilt! Don't let me think! And remember!
The embryo twitched with its whole body, at the same time shielding both Slavka and YurVedych, rejoicing that the first movement was successful, with the second movement he confidently kicked the observer from the right leg between the eyes.
- Go away! This is my dream!
Those, dumbfounded by such resolute belligerence, instantly withdrew.
- Wow! the professor was surprised.
- And you, what are you doing here? - the mother turned menacingly to Lebedev and her son, - this also applies to you!
And an infant's hand swept them from their own amniotic sea, like sand from a path.
At that moment, the pregnant woman smiled strangely, covering her moving tummy. Through the bookkeeping window, she saw YurVedych and Slavka running headlong, interrupting each other and shouting:
- What?
- How?
- How do you feel?
Dorozhkina palm on her stomach.
Fog - in the eyes of the hairy:
- Moved.
- ???
- The baby stirred.
- Remember this number, - YurVedych immediately calmed down, shook his finger at Verochka.
- Why? - the beauty smiled, looking into herself, listening, and suddenly she moves again ... and suddenly it seemed?
- Half term! YurVedich raised his eyes. - Count exactly four and a half months, and you will give birth on time.
The young woman took Slavko’s hand and put it on her stomach.
The palm felt a soft push from the womb. So surprisingly soft and warm...

***
Their mother didn't let them in anymore. She was probably angry that they had disturbed her in an indecent place.
Only YurVedich broke through once for a second, declared, waving delicately, as always:
- Well, you know the name of God.
“I know,” answered the soul of the Mother.
- Call it that...
- I will think…

***
- She must forget those years of dislike ... - the son thought, wandering along the corridor, like an ocelot in a cage.
- For her to forget, one must live in love.
- It's too easy.
- But as?
- She needs to name the name of God.
- Svetik?
- You are stupid! What Svetik?
- Why fool?
- He said - we are different, each has its own god.
- But she is my mother, so we have one God.
- In general - not a fact! You are a man. She is woman. You have DNA, she has mitochondria...
- So what?
- Well, that's all!
- ... well, the argument!
YurVedich turned away, withdrew into himself, tore off the newspaper from the table, and covered himself with it. Tried to pretend to be reading. Although the picture was upside down.
- Well, do you know the name of God?
- This time I know!
"Then what's all this fuss about?"
- Then!
- You again?
- Well, if you still don't understand, why should you explain?
- And you try.
YurVedich noticed that the newspaper was upside down and threw it back on the table:
- Here at all complex combination should occur. This is her wish. And her world. You, by the way, passionately desired to name the name of God. And she, imagine - does not want to! The planet is alive while three paradoxes happen: Love is above the law! Above right - mercy! Above justice is forgiveness!
Stretched out in paradise among lakes filled with fish. It was surrounded by wide fields of pumpkins, sunflowers, potatoes, tomatoes, corn... All this fed the numerous inhabitants and helped support the army, fearlessly fighting against the unfriendly tribes of other Indians of the American mainland. A girl, distraught by what had happened, was being transported to Tenochtitlan. They drove through the desert, overgrown with cacti, American aloe agave and various thorns that were not found near the river.
Montezuma's eyes from time to time looked at her like that ... So, as if all-penetrating itzli, pulling out a heart burned alive in her chest! With such curved knives made of obsidian volcanic glass with the name itztli, with one blow, the priests ripped open the chest of the unfortunate for sacrifice to the gods on a round black ritual stone on the teocalli.
Montezuma did not touch her at night. Thirty wives were enough for him, wriggling in marriage orgies like a snake ball. And in the morning, having rested and slept after the road, he appeared in all his splendor. In a golden helmet, inlaid with divinely pure and indecently large emeralds, where the royal symbols of an eagle tearing apart a snake flaunted. A beautiful, tanned body was closely encircled by the same golden shell, covered on top with a cloak of multi-colored feathers of rare birds. The sun mercilessly burned the capital of the Aztecs. On the pyramids, the remnants of the alien coming, temples were built on. The leader sat on gold in one of them. Tanned legs and arms were tied together by golden hoops. In his hand, Montezuma held a long spear with a sharp tip. And nearby melted in a similar luxury to know.
In those days, in her poor city, even more prosperous Indians wore linen armor instead of metal shells - eskimpily. He and his mother were just engaged in the craft of making these quilted jackets, first soaking them in brine. After such processing, the escapable reliably protected the body from arrows and spears. And their headdresses, of course, were not made of gold, but of long feathers held together with beaded tracks. Clothing was generally simpler, only sometimes decorated with stones, rawhide belts or beaded embroidery.
With his finger, the superbly dressed Montezuma beckoned Malinal, supposedly by chance again launching the look of his black eyes-itztli into her chest, burning and exciting her soul, and ordered to sit down next to her.
Asked:
- Cocoa?
"I don't know what it is," the girl replied.
Montezuma grinned only with his eyes, but his face remained impassive. The Martian gods gave the Indians not only heady agave juice, but also another drink that increases potency, arouses desire, gives a sharp mind, and blesses for exploits. But cocoa was too expensive for commoners. The king of the Aztecs waved his hand, and a smartly dressed slender woman in a large cup helpfully poured for the girl a delicate drink prepared in full view of those present by grinding cocoa beans mixed with wild bee honey and milky cane juice. The foam was attractive.
"Sweet," said Malinal. - Hot.
Montezuma once more controlledly launched the twisted little knives of her eyes into her soul. Scratched. Malinal rummaged through them in his chest. And nodded:
- Yes. Sweet. And hot. Like a kiss from a woman you love. Am I sweet to you? Hot? Are you ready for me?
- I was forbidden to get close to a man, - Malinal trembled, - I'm only twelve. It is forbidden.
- Have you already had a red moon? Montezuma continued patiently, as if not paying attention to her confusion, and sipped the light brown drink with pleasure.
- Yes. But she said...
- Who is she?
Malinal was silent.
- Who is she? - a little more pressing on his voice, the brilliant thirty-six-year-old king repeated the question, stubbornly looking into his eyes and seeking intimacy with a girl three times younger than him, - is she higher than the king for you? Is she an oracle?
- Not. I do not want to utter this word, - whispered, barely finding the strength for self-control, Malinal. - She sold me for one gold.
- A ... Your mother? She sold you for one gold? – he again slightly imperceptibly chuckled, - No. You are not right. I bought you. These are different things. And now you are mine. Now I will point out what should and what should not. But I want it to be your wish too.
Malinal was silent again. Lost appetite. The attendants continued to talk noisily with each other at the meal, as if not paying attention to the new passion of their leader. Music played. Drums made of snakeskin beat out the rhythm of the capital's fashionable dance.
- Do you love me? Montezuma suddenly asked, continuing to drill into an inexperienced soul with a look of very brown, almost black eyes. And he repeated the question - do you love?
The sun was gaining brightness and light, sucking strength and power from all the prickly pear of the scorched deserts of America. From all succulent agaves. From all mountains, pyramids, rivers and lakes. From all the golden trays and jugs. From bracelets and stones on Montezuma's clothes. For the sole purpose of preparing for the king an invaluable intoxicating drink of love, driving him crazy.
- You blind my eyes so much that I can't see the daylight. I see no white light, ruler. You are brighter than the sun.
- Well, - suddenly calmly and indifferently the owner changed the subject, - Rest. One of these days I'll be away on business. But before leaving, I will ask you again about this. Think.
Two days of restlessness passed before Montezuma pushed back the heavy cover and ascended into her chambers, arranged under majestic cedars, whitened with lichen, like gray elders, and decorated with flowers. He entered as a bare-haired hunter in light linen trousers, displaying handsome tanned shoulders. I took it by the hand. Attached to his chest:
- It can't lie.
Montezuma was somewhat embarrassed that Malinal did not immediately throw herself into his arms, but he quietly insistently said:
- If you say no, your heart will burst out of your chest and fly away. And I will die that hour!
"No," said Malinal.
Montezuma laughed.
- You're right. It didn't break out, and it didn't fly away. But you make him beat, as if I ran to the very top of the pyramid of the Sun! I am the ruler of the Aztecs, Montezuma, I tell you that I love you.
- …she forbade…
- Mother?
“I forgot that word,” repeated Malinal bitterly. -.... if you love, if you really love, imagine that I am you. - The girl chattered quickly, guiltily and hotly, - And what would you do in my place. Would you be with me if someone big and strong, blinding eyes, bought you??? - and not having received an answer, she said, - If the whole world forbade me to be yours. And even she...
He was silent. He listened carefully to her confusion.
She waited a little longer for the answer of the Great King. And she firmly proclaimed her verdict:
- If you decide to be together, so be it.
Montezuma realized that the girl is not only breathtakingly young, but also cunning, so she wants to shift the moral responsibility from intimacy to his adult male nature.
- In would not doubt if I were you, and fell in love with the one who blinds the eyes.
He put his hand on her heart. It beat just like his.
 "Love me," Montezuma said. “My life depends on it.

***
Montezuma lied. Not life depended on the love of the dancer brought from Tabasco, no, but only his own self-esteem. Yes, he selflessly threw himself into love, as a traveler exhausted by a long journey throws himself into the coolness of a river. Yes. After orgies with more experienced wives, he spoiled the young concubine with jewelry. And delicacies. And canceled trips around the country. And for some time he did not accept those close to him. Yes. He completely moved her into his golden luxurious bedroom, and on hot days and nights the heavy gilded mahogany bed jumped up to the opposite wall, as if alive, and they made fun of it after the next love games. Yes, everything was serious. And with great love. Malinal herself almost turned into a writhing snake, like the others. From an inexperienced simpleton, she turned into a beautiful interlocutor confident in her feminine power. Montezuma conversed with her, as if with an oracle or a priest, trusted Malinal with secrets and fears. And fears that Teul, the son of the white-skinned god Quetzalcoatl, will one day return, and, according to the oracle, will destroy all the people of his country. And that he is the last leader of the Aztecs.
- Quetzalcoatl taught the inhabitants of Anak crafts and arts, politics and government, - Montezuma explained to his beloved, - He sailed to the legendary country of Tlapallan on a snakeskin barge, but before sailing he promised to return with his numerous, white-skinned children. They are beautiful like gods. Ruthless and merciless. One day they will sail. They will kill you. And me. And all the people of Tenochtitlan.
Montezuma was already trying on the queen's wreath for Malinal and promised to make him his official wife.
“You,” he said, endlessly believing in it himself, “my beloved, the continuation of my male soul. It's so wonderful when you know that there is your female reflection on Earth. After all, we are similar. We have one eye. One hand. Only you have women's, and I have men's.
The beautiful young Malinal, showered with gold, laughed:
- So, if I wear your clothes,
***
- Lebedev, what's up? Don't languish! - Slavka pulls by the sleeve, when the whirling streams of dust stopped swirling around the time traveler, - did you find it?
- Found. Ten or fifteen incarnations ago. It's Malinal! Lover of Cortez! Ruined the entire civilization of MasoAmerica!
- My mother? Malinal? The legendary Marina, you are sure?
- Five hundred years ago.
- Five hundred???
- Time runs fast...only when you're not waiting for anyone! And she, it seems, was waiting ... we are driving into the future for balance. And find out the reason for such a long relapse. Are you with me?
- You ask!...
Needle stitched Lebedev times. Like a thread after a needle, Bolshakov followed him.
The observers did not interfere in their affairs with a wave of their hand.
The universe was silent.

***
 - Genius? Did you say genius? - Lebedev unexpectedly slapped his knee, - talking either with Slavka, or with himself, - it's not too late! Just right again! It will be genius!
And ... got into the habit of Mexico. He gave all his strength and tricks to the pregnant woman, or rather to what was ripening in her. His personal experience, his personal garden with flowers, bees, apples, a lake and fish!
He put delicacies on Dorozhkina table several times a day from all over the world, from all centuries, from the past and the future, from the North and South, West, East and Asia.
He managed to arrive five minutes before her husband.
- What are you doing? - Slavka Bolshakov was indignant, finding the guest in his own kitchen at lunchtime before the arrival of his wife.
“So that you don’t accidentally gobble it up,” Lebedev answered him jealously, looking at the delicacy.
- ??? - Slavka silently squinted his eyes at a strange object on a plate, similar to something obscene.
- Don't wince, it's not some kind of poop... it's Charles V's chocolate!... but it's a paste made from the nightingale tongues of the Chinese emperor. Sturgeon slices from the Moscow River pre-modern years.
- Ecologically clean? – smiled at last, Slavka, – they are not found there!
- Under Ivan the Terrible, there were ... and pies with a screech to strengthen the bones.
- Terrible??? Are you...again?
Lebedev lowered his eyes guiltily.
- ... well, here, you understand ... the pregnant woman wanted to. And the desire of a woman in an interesting position is the law ...! - shamelessly lied YurVedych.
- You might think that I'm not the husband, but you!
- And I am the husband! Lebedev snapped.
- In terms of? Slava tensed up.
- The one inside. Not this one!
- ... but ... - Slava was perplexed, and suddenly burst out laughing, - that is, you are my future son-in-law?
YurVedich broke into an answering smile:
- Doppel, on a long neck, finally! Well, you are slow-witted, Bolshakov! And your mother is awesome! Durack you that did not love her!
- I loved!
Lebedev paced the room like Lenin paced an armored car, hands behind his back. Forehead tense:
- MOTHER not to love is the same as LIFE not to love.
- I loved! - Shouted Slavka, unable to stand it.
- I! - the professor boiled in response, - I WILL TEACH YOU TO LOVE ... LIFE!
“Here, God sent the son-in-law,” Slava muttered, but nothing so that you are a hundred years older than her?
- You are wrong, colleague! You are the same age… unless, of course, to sum up all the incarnations… - and said dreamily, - Like her. BUT?! With one foot of the Observers of the Universe… sent to hell! Yes, this has never been born in the history of mankind! And you ... et ... the son is called. You prodigal… you dunce… you didn’t appreciate all this time. Did not know. I didn’t feel what strength she was ... she played insults from childhood ...
- Yes. I'm a fool, - Slavka surrendered, glancing at the dubious delicacies on the table, - maybe, after all, borscht?
- Now, if you were a fool, it would be great, - the professor did not pay attention to the invitation to the table, - But you are smart, you bastard! Too even. You are smart. That's who! Whose mind comes first. And the heart is on the second!
- This is Maria on the second??? And you?
- What about me? It was you who fell on me with your love!
- Did I fall off? And who got into my car on the Moscow Ring Road? BUT?
- Okay. You don't want Carla's chocolate. And p;t;... Don't eat. Maybe then caviar? - the sly one peacefully changed the subject and added conciliatorily, - black!
“If only the bread was white,” Slava agreed out of habit.
Argument!

Chapter twenty-three. Cortes. What about Cortez?

- Cortez? What about Cortez? - explaining to Svetoslav what actually happened 500 years ago, Lebedev tried to analyze the situation of an unprecedentedly complex large-scale karmic knot.
- Cortez - the great and terrible, who has done more in the history of mankind than Columbus and other white "god-people" penetrating the American continent with blond hair and blue eyes, like aliens, Cortez was a saving straw for Marina Malinal. Anoka - the gigantic size of the Aztec state with its metropolitan cities - became her personal enemy. She was of a different nationality, not Aztec. We'll talk about this later. And Montezuma literally destroyed the entire state for one insult. But what! The whole state - to hell flew like a dog through time to be scattered and fall at the feet of the cunning greedy prudent lawyer Cortes, who has no conscience, no soul, no pity, only admiration for her native beauty that has not faded to the end, her communicative ability to learn the language of those who came from the distant unknown land of the avengers. The soul of Malinal yearned for Destruction. Heads. Hearts. To sweep.

***
Malinal saw, and most importantly, used this sizzling fire reflected in the languid eyes of Cortez - this is the same fire approaching, magnetized to the greatest revenge of times and peoples, the future.
It will then be the pirate, Francis Drake. It was then many years later that he would receive the noble title of sir for the battle with the Spaniards. It will then be crushed by the "Invincible Armada" of the Spaniards. And those who conquered half the world will be defeated according to the law of the boomerang. Destroyed. Broken. And then they were needed by Malinal as a tool to quench the thirst for revenge. How a needle is used by an embroiderer, stringing beads for an intricate pattern on her own belt, in the immutable eternal ability of the Mobius ribbon encircling the Milky Way.
Malinal internally triumphed, once again, enjoying hitherto unprecedented human greed, because Cortez was squeezing large stones of emeralds so that the knuckles of the fingers turned white, as if they were already the bones of a skeleton! And greed is so easy to control...
Greed is evil, in the end it falls on the head of the person who benefits from it, with a stronger and more malicious greed of others. And the future untold wealth, and the title of the Duke - all this will be, but love, that love to the gnashing of teeth that Malinal experienced for Montezuma, will no longer happen to him with Cortes.
At first, she used all the art of love, which she learned in the gardens of Montezuma. And Cortes, who had never experienced such a thing, of course, remained faithful to her for some time.
And then ... Not feeling reciprocal love, is it not him, is it not Cortez, who received everything from Malinal, who more than once saved him and his team from death, and was christened by the Indians, like Malitsina, who took from his mistress both pleasure and joy and the CITY of her continent, and just throwing off his hand like a glove, as a wife to don Juan Jaramillo?! ...
Smirking in her heart, she did not at all feel like a beast that had fallen into disrepair and, due to old age, was sold to a poorer owner at a cheap price. No. She reveled in loneliness. And revenge. The destructive power of the Fire Serpent encircling the Universe, its punishment. But hopeless love, still warming in the chest, did not give rest. Eyes-knives out of time picked out the offended feeling of love to the giblets. Dipping herself again and again on the first day of their meeting, Malinal tormented and tormented herself. She still loved him. The ungrateful great and destroyed by her Montezuma. In the evenings of loneliness, in her marriage to Juan, hiding her eyes behind the squint of the epicanthus, she recalled her adventures, like Huitzilopochtli, the hummingbird sorcerer, the god of war and the sun. Her soul, like the smoking mirror of Tezcatlipoca, which found the sacrifices made, reveled in the revenge she had committed in her own deep proud loneliness, which was inherited by multiple subsequent incarnations, offended by rejected love.

***
The haze of this magical temporary mirror clouded Lebedev's mind, perhaps he was now the only one of the people who understood the notorious "mysteriousness of the Russian female soul."
The Anuak Indians married twelve-year-old girls at the age of fifteen. But, without receiving the approval of the mother, this was strictly forbidden.
So.
The sails of her fate took the wind. Nothing would delay this brig. The soul no longer hid behind a felshbot from the arrows of the instructions of the ignorant, how it should act. Malinal decided everything. For too long the soul waited for oblivion. Instead, she waited only for loneliness and disappointment. Accepted the status of obedience. Patience. Sorrow. Century after century. Birth after birth... not believing! without opening the heart. Not forgiving. And... loving...
Meeting and seeing off the men who are married to her, burying them, or seeing them off on their last journey, which, in fact, is the same thing, keeping locked up the most precious thing - reverence - she perceived the opposite sex as beings that destroy youth, and tried to stay away from them away. The shadow of cold oblivion in love touched her, like the touch of death.






- Oooh! Lebedev inhaled with his whole chest and set a certain point of coordinates.
He saw different fragments of the life of those who played a fatal role in the distant incarnation of Slavia’s mother.
___
As soon as the sea breeze stopped blowing over Cortes and his people, that hour myriads of disgusting blood-sucking insects grabbed their faces.
- Garapatas! - he exclaimed in his hearts, - these ticks are everywhere!
___
The Indians are dressed in simple linen clothes. They are armed with bows and arrows, as well as wooden clubs, threatening from all sides with fragments of obsidian attached to the beater. Volcanic obsidian glass of black or red color with a cutting fracture has been used by the inhabitants of these places since prehistoric times for the manufacture of scrapers, knives, arrowheads. But it was also processed for jewelry, sculptures of gods, various household items.
___
Tabasco, the city where Cortes later landed, the southern province of Aniak, located near Tenochtitlan, present-day Mexico City, was fed by the Rio Tabasco. And coastal fields.
The Indians of the Spaniards called the Taule tribe.
___
Priests, or pubs, as they were then called, keeping the covenants of the "gods" descended from heaven, resembled ritual dolls from the most terrible dreams. Her straight black hair appeared to have never been washed and was tangled in tangles with ointments to repel blood-sucking insects. Hands, not familiar with soap and washing in general, with yellowish-brown claws, with protruding veins on the knuckles, visually seemed larger than those of Europeans, evoked a special feeling of awe, for Lebedev intuitively felt how many people they killed without tools, but only only due to the metallic natural tenacity. Black robes, embroidered with blood-red drawings, emphasized the ferocity of the faces with inexorable awesome cruelty. Behind the main pub's belt gleamed an itzli, a curved obsidian knife. The pubs, standing at the very edge of the pyramid, at that place where the victims were dropped, which is called the teocalli, professionally listened to the beating of his heart in order to launch yellow-brown unwashed claws, with dried blood under them, between the ribs and deftly tear him out, beating (!) for all to see. The pub existed only with this thought, instantly read by YurVedych. The pub had no other thoughts.
- Phew! He breathed out and turned back.

***
- What's there? Slavka waited for the return of the professor.
- On the pyramid?
- Yes.
- Fire. A black ritual flat stone where the best are placed to rip out their hearts and throw them down the stairs. And they built temples there on these Martian sites. They are waiting for their gods... bloodthirsty ones.
- Well, what did you tell them?
- You will talk there ... They almost ripped out my heart with glass knives!
- All my life I dreamed of seeing what America looked like before the arrival of Columbus! Cacti there ... thorns ..
Why were you silent before? Lebedev shrugged. - I'm here ... I mastered a new trick ... Do you want to become a Mosquito?
- Ha!
- Close your eyes. Let's fly!...
Seeing, as it were, all of MesAmerica at once, virtual guests from the future discovered here and there the characteristic hillocks of the former Martian spaceports, some already discovered and completely domesticated 500 years ago by priests, others still had earth, grass, and cacti. Cancun, Yucatan, Puebla, Campeche, Tobacco, Palenque, Tikal, Antigua, Atitlan, Tehuantepec...
But friends who entered the body of mosquitoes saw the place of the current Mexico City, completely built up with gray houses - green Tinochtitlan, indented with fields, forests, swamps, lakes and log communications, as if on a silver platter! YurVedych showed Svetoslav the places of parking and departure of Martian ships, which the natives adapted for life, having dug out after the flood, less than 70 thousand years have passed! Pyramidal structures with temples built on them in such a quantity Bolshakov did not expect to see. He thought there were two or three of these truncated pyramids, and even then, in Teotihuacan. The Pyramid of the Sun, the Pyramid of the Moon, well, a couple of other buildings in Uxmal and Chichen-Itza…
A fundamentally unexpected vision turned out to be unexpectedly snowy in these arid, sun-scorched places, the tops of two great mountains. Above the crater of one of them, internal fermentation, a fiery glow and, most importantly, a dense thick column of smoke did not stop.
- This is Popocatepetl, - pointed out YurVedych, - in the local language it means the peak that smokes. And that one is a “sleeping woman”, in the sense that Istaxihuatl. In general, a more correct translation is still “white woman”. See? She lies and her hair spread out on the slope.
How do you remember these names?
- ... I lived there ... - the contacted simply answered ... - for a long time ... Only ... I remember here. I don’t remember here,” Lebedev joked. The Aztecs consider these two volcanoes husband and wife.
After green Russia, Bolshakov found the picture unusually rosy. Burgundy flashes of volcanoes were replaced by red ocher. orange vegetation. Yellow sand. A green corn field, a blue lake, a blue coastline, and purple buildings that turn into old black and gray pyramid stones ... Give or take - ponches thrown over the shoulders of Popocatepetl and Istaxihuatl!
The thick morning mist fell down the slope with the long gray curly hair of a white woman into the valley, and freely penetrated the streets of the still sleeping city between houses and temple buildings to fairly large lakes.
- Look, Slavka, three lakes that are now not on the map of the earth! Chalaco. Jochimilco and Texcoco. As if in a circle they surround the capital, almost the same as the sea surrounded the legendary Atlantis! And dams have been built across the lakes.
- Looks like a dream trap.
- Exactly! All this country is the Anuak Empire. By the lakes there are cities, well, like our urban-type settlements. Amekameka. Ayozingo. Tinochtitlan is the largest of them. There is an emperor.
- Montezuma?
- Yeah! In-oh-he, the accursed tempter of our lady of the heart, see? His palaces.
- Isn't there only one palace?
Why does he need one? He has a simpler way to say it to you, several palaces.
- Palace complex?
- Exactly! - Lebedev laughed, - however, the Ring of Fire is favoriting this land. Earthquakes are constant. Tornadoes are again due to the climatic conditions of the Gulf of Mexico. Heat. The mountains. By the way, look at the fields of maize and agave. They make moonshine from cacti. Ha ha ha. Admittedly, it's rather weak. Nothing, the Europeans will teach them to drive tequila! Yes, with pepper!
- Is it true that they are cannibals?
- Well… not all. Caribbean cannibals. Et yes. There is no Taena. Not cannibals.
- And the locals?
- Not. Aztecs, Atoms and Maya - no. They don't eat people like that. But only those who are ritually killed on the teocalli and thrown down ... This is a sacred custom.
- Gosha…
- The past is generally a bloodthirsty thing! - Lebedev responded ... - and the future even more so! But look, they are still sleeping like children. They don't know that everyone is condemned by the Old World... and will be thrown from the teocalli of their greatness to the bottom of civilization. Over there, see? Stone dam across the lake. Look at this blooming place of gardens and splendor. And do not say that in Mexico there were only cacti and thorns!
And indeed, the picture opened incredible. Mighty cedars and pines descended down the slopes of the mountains. On the surface of the lakes dormant lush floating gardens froze. Numerous cozy pies. The houses, built on piles, seemed nice and cozy, and did not at all resemble the terrifying slums of some cannibals from a terrible fairy tale. Flowers on trees growing right in floating rafts and boats began to bloom from the rising sun. The voices of the morning birds revived. At the intersection of two dams, the fortified guard fort Holok towered.
The fog rolled down from the mountains, touched by the low wind.
Lebedev deliberately blew on him in the direction of the fort. And he laughed triumphantly, looking at his friend to check the effect of the impact. Perhaps he himself did not expect such a thing from a trip in the past.
- True Paradise! Bolshakov exclaimed.
- Pure Hell, Slavka! About 350 thousand people live here now! Now I will show you! Both ... you are crying!
The projections of Lebedev and Bolshakov, which temporarily penetrated the chitinous body of two particularly vicious and incredibly fast mosquitoes, quickly overcame the densely populated buildings of commoners. The suburbs of adobes molded of silt, for which the mountain Indians despised the inhabitants of the capital and called reptiles swarming in the swamp, occupied the main part of the city. But they were followed by solid buildings of red stone. Large spacious houses were surrounded by gardens. They were connected by footpaths or canals.
The thing that made the hair stand on end was a gigantic central black stone pyramid, to the top of which four staircases, strewn with human skulls, led from all sides. Piles of bones and half-decayed corpses were tormented by birds of prey. Maggots. Infested with insects.
Above all this horror, the temple shone brilliantly. Wide massive side plates were painted with scenes of battles or hunting. Stone gods of water, wind and war flaunted on the ledges. Frog heads. Serpent. Stone skulls depicting only Death itself…
- Ethnographers will say about it this way: “the share of militarism played a significant role in MesoAmerica”. In historical archives
she held a soft non-ceremonial baldric of green royal feathers.
The emperor, sitting on a golden chair, looked over the city from above. Smoked a pipe. In front of him was a cup of thick, frothy cocoa. And the white skull, crowned with a golden diadem shining with precious large stones, ambiguously shimmered in the rays of the sun with emerald eyes.
- Malinal?! he called.
From behind a carpet embroidered with the image of an aggressively attacking leopard, a cheerful dark-skinned woman came out. Loving large eyes sprinkled all over the world multi-beam solar happiness. She immediately sat down at the feet of the lord and kissed the open tanned leg above the knee.
"I'm going to die of jealousy now," Lebedev hissed.
“Sometimes you really want to kill someone…” answered Slava.
- Not. Well, this is too much. Let's not watch your mother being corrupted by a regal hereditary Reptoid in snake-like orgies! Now they will intertwine bodies ... and then it’s generally better to get out of here!
However, no orgy happened. Montezuma stared intently at Malinal, and she, like a frog in response to a snake, could not take her loving gaze away from him.
A small wave broke on Lake Texcoco. The mist dissipated, turning into a flurry of air.
- Observers! Let's get out of here! Lebedev lied. - Phew! Did not notice!
Instantly friends returned to the starting point.

***
- I have a complete failure in the Caribbean. Somehow bring me up to date, - asked Bolshakov as soon as they returned from the trip. “I only know that Columbus discovered America. And then the Old World swallowed up the New. And there was also the same Cortes who brought the emerald to the queen. And that the religion of the Indians is now wiped off the face of the earth. Nearly. The people were mixed up. Creoles. Mestizos ... there are almost no native ones left.
Now Mexico. With the Latinos living there,” Lebedev obediently answered. - Before her, Anuak with the capital Tinochtitlan, at war with all the tribes around, including their own. A kind of cultural cluster of Mashtecs, Zapotecs, Toltecs and mostly Aztecs. Magicans don't count there. I name only Krupnik. Before them - Maya. Before them, the Olmecs. And even before them, Martian landings of especially large sizes. The world has not taken them before. And now, as a result of eternal internecine non-peace, the Latin American environment is characterized by demonstrations, protests, clashes, marches, meetings, political debates, speeches, leaflets, reforms, revolutionary situations ... the same action "blacks also matter" ...
- And what about Cortez?
- And what about Cortez? - Lebedev snapped, - no one would have played his role in planetary history better!
- That is, you think it's right when a more developed civilization absorbs a weaker one?
- Has anyone asked us? YurVedich took a deep breath. There are many factors for and against. The Old World gave a strong impetus to the development of the New. wheat. Horses. Cows. Cats. Plague. Education. Religion. Swimming to Antarctica. Space flight! New World - Old - gold. Syphilis. Tobacco. Earth. Corn. Pumpkin. Sunflower…
- Confused me. Where is the New and where is the Old?
Lebedev laughed.
“So, Cortez,” he continued, judiciously through his laughing mustache. - Cortes was small - not a miss! And… are you even ready to go through the "Road of the Dead"?
- Are they dead?
- Yes and no…
- Ready.
- Good. Let's go. What is 500 years ago? Nothing! Five generations of centenarians!
- Ten to fifty! – parried Slavka.
- Or so. Montezuma was repeatedly warned by the priests that he would not only be the Second Montezuma, but also the last ruler of the Aztecs. Infamy awaits his subjects, not immortality. This glorious king simply decided to pay off people from Europe with gold. And that is his main historical error. Gold cannot buy off the greedy. The more you give him, the more he hates you. The more you owe him, in his opinion!
- Oh how! And Malinal played the role of a neck that turned the head of this insatiable snake towards the acquisition of wealth by the Old World.
- That's right. Cortes arrived on the coast of America with the aim of conquering "free lands". Notice! So, it is written in the novel "Children of Captain Grant"! In search of the Free Lands, the "glorious" went, in fact, as evidenced by the facts, we now understand that the bloodthirsty and merciless Captain Grant. And what is a free land in the concept of a European? And free land is one where there is no legal stamp about belonging to a Frenchman, Englishman, Italian or German. Imperialism has long since divided its meager lands. Neither the English King, nor the Spanish Queen, and even more so Columbus or Cortes, did not consider the Indians to be people. Just like Mars President Onole! The throne was taken by Montezuma II at the age of 36.
- By today's standards - a child!
- Here one should consider the low life expectancy and the early transformation of the Indians into men. I already mentioned the number. 15 years.

Chapter twenty-four. Malinal.
The first elementary thing that came to Slavka's mind after all that was happening was to open Wikipedia and read everything that concerned Malinal.
Behind him stood Faith, in which there was Hope.
He read aloud to both:
- Malinche Malineli Tenepatl (Nahuatl Malineli Tenepatl), baptized dona Marina (Spanish Do;a Marina, 1500 or 1501 - between 1529 and 1550) - translator, informant, and concubine of Hernan Cortes, who played an important role in the conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards.
- No, no, - Lebedev grew as if out of the ground. But realizing that Verochka was dumbfounded by his unusual penetration into the apartment, he murmured, - There the door was just open! - and flew, as always from the spot to the quarry, - But that's not the point! Her name means "grass" in Nahuatl!
Not at all surprised, Slavka continued to extract information from the computer:
- The 17th-century Mexican historian Chimalpain, a native of the Chichimec people, claimed that her real name was Tenepal (Tenepal). "Malinche", according to Gomez de Orozco, was the name of her father.
- O! Chichimecas! This is a great tribe! They haunted even the Great City of times and peoples Teotihuacan!
- Chuchmeki ... - Verochka spoke out.
“Yes, yes,” Lebedev replied, and just as the Chuchmeks attacked the tribes of Teotihuacan, so the ships of Cortes attacked the tribes of Tabasco. Imagine? Armed warriors, and even on horses, which the natives had never seen in their eyes, because the first thing that the locals did ritually on their teocalli was to deal not only with the hearts of the Spaniards, but also with the heads of horses, considering them gods ... So, after shooting for intimidation from pistols and cannons, showing the power of the cavalry, Cortes got a frightened settlement, which immediately decided to pay off the formidable conqueror and his warships. The very next day, early in the morning, and, to be precise, it was the 15th day of the month of March, 1519, there were a lot of caciques, heads of villages, and noble persons from all over Tabasco. They approached with great respect, carrying gifts of gold: 4 diadems, several lizards, two dogs with protruding ears, 5 ducks, 2 images of Indian faces and more. Well, what to take from the poor provincials? However, as a gift, the natives and twenty young women were captured, and among them a rare clever and beautiful woman, besides, the daughter of the powerful cacique Painala, a native of the village of Huilotlan in the Shalacinco region, the granddaughter of her master Coatzacoalcos, who, after Montezuma, passed from hand to hand until ended up in the power of Vladyka Potonchan, who suffered many troubles, the same one who, after the adoption of Christianity, received the name Dona Marina ...
Thanks for the historical background. We actually vacation here with the family.
- No problem. I'm just for a minute.
- Stay, YurVedych! I'll put the tea on right now! Svetik, why are you such a beech? Lebedev always talks so interestingly.
- Stay, - Slavka nodded, well, by the way, look, another document says that between 8 and 12 years old Malinche was given into slavery from the area inhabited by the Maya, apparently in the form of a tribute.
Montezuma bought it at twelve.
- And she was fluent in the Aztec language (Nahuatl), the lingua franca of Mexico and one of the Mayan languages - Chontal.
- Well, yes. Until this became known to Cortes, they were going to give her to captain Alonso Hernandez de Portocarrero. And as soon as they discovered that she spoke Nahuatl, Cortes sent Malinche to Jeronimo de Aguilar, a Spaniard who was a prisoner of the Maya and who knows their language. Malinche translated from Nahuatl to Maya, and Aguilar followed her from Maya to Spanish, and vice versa.
- Apparently, Malinal very quickly mastered the Spanish language, since all the chroniclers of the conquest of Mexico hardly mention Aguilar.
- Did she have children? Dorozhkina asked.
- Let's see. From Cortes, she had a son, Martin, adopted by the second wife of Cortes, Juana de Z;;iga. Later, Malinche was married to the translator Juan Jaramillo Aguilar, and died, according to documents, in 1529 during a smallpox epidemic.
Next, they biasedly and critically reviewed all the photos and images of Cortez, Montezuma and Marina-Malinal that they found on the Internet.
- Did Cortes still have wives? - Verochka asked another question, returning from the kitchen, where not only the kettle was already hissing.
- And how! - the professor exclaimed, filling the task with the Yandex search engine, read, - In August 1522, Cortez's wife, Catalina Juarez Marcaida, arrived in Mexico with her brothers and sisters, who died on the eve of All Saints' Day on November 1. According to K. Duverger, there are at least two versions of the circumstances of her death. According to the first, the wife of Cortes suffered from a serious illness back in Cuba, and the highlands of Mexico City aggravated her condition. According to another version, the wife of Cortes came to Mexico uninvited and began to claim the role of ruler, and also dispersed her husband's native concubines. As a result of a quarrel, Cortes strangled her (red spots were allegedly found on her neck). According to K. Duverger, a hand-made murder was unlikely - Cortes was distinguished by great self-control.
***
After a splendid dinner, Bolshakov went down to see his friend off.
- Well, Montezuma, - Lebedev was indignant, - but what did she find in Cortes? She also gave birth to a son. Parasite!
- Well, how! - picked up Slavka with a sneer, - a blue-eyed Spaniard, a brunette with curly rings of silk hair. Lips with a rose, lost in a cute beard. A high forehead adorned with resinous characteristic eyebrows.
- The nose is long! Lebedev muttered.
- But fashionable at that time in Castile black beret with a white ostrich feather! Wow!
- I liked the armor better. And a strict black suit.
- And I have a white lace scarf.
- We are different.
- That's it. I think the real luxury of this man was unusually deep thoughtful blue eyes!
- And I have blue ... - Lebedev wrinkled his forehead. Will she like me?
- And you call the name of God, your mother so - laughed friend.
- Not. I want her to be herself. After all, with Cortes, if not for Marina, anything could have happened. And he would not have bequeathed to bury him in Mexico City in the hospital of Jesus of Nazareth. And they would not have reburied it in 1981. And his remains would not have been hidden until now because of the nationalist sentiments of the native Indians of both Americas.

***
At night, in a dream, Slavka saw their house again. Only the cherries have already fallen off all the foliage. The branches of the garden trees stretched their branches towards the rebellious sky. Along the path, strewn with autumn leaves and red apples, which no one ever picked, her mother was walking towards Slavka.
 - Mother! Hard for me without you! How hard is it for me...
- Hmm ... - an almost impassive voice without a shadow of irony was surprised, - it's hard to transplant peonies from clay in the spring. And in the fall - dig potatoes alone ...
- And I…
- And you forget!
Slavka woke up. He sighed heavily. He stroked his wife, who was sleeping next to her, on her rounded tummy.
Said aloud:
 - Man, lives for love. And for love. Not in this, but in the next life!
- And I you. Sleep, Verochka muttered.

***
But Slava could not sleep. He imagined in the faces, surrendering to the imagination, like a reader who has stared into a fascinating novel: Cortes met Malinal in the prime of his life. As is she with him.
On February 10, 1519, the expedition set off for the Yucatan coast. The first contact with the high civilization of America took place on the island of Cozumel, where at that time there was the Mayan principality of Ekab, the center of worship of the fertility goddess Ix-Chel. The Spaniards tried to destroy the sanctuary, horrified by the sacrificial rite. At first, an Indian slave boy served as an interpreter, from whom information was received about Jeronimo de Aguilar, a Spanish priest who was captured by the Maya and learned their language. He became Cort;s' chief interpreter. In March 1519, Cortes formally annexed the Yucat;n to the Spanish possessions (in fact, this only happened in 1535). Then the expedition went along the coast, on March 14 the mouth of the Tabasco River was reached, which the Spaniards called Grijalva. The conquistadors attacked the Indian settlement but found no gold.
Warbler again and again simulated the events, as on March 19 in Tabasco, Cortes received gifts from local rulers: a lot of gold and 20 women, among whom was Malinche, who became the official translator and concubine of Cortes. And how she was baptized, and how the Spaniards later called her "donna Marina".
And I didn’t want to believe the Spanish documents at all, in which they spoke in black and white about a certain legend that allegedly Montezuma was afraid of aliens, and immediately took out gold to them. No. All this, according to Slavka, was written by Cortes, after all, he was a good poet and writer. And he wrote this to justify an unprecedented and unheard-of robbery.
He killed Montezuma!
He!
Or is she?
Or did she do it herself? Malinal?
Why is her soul toiling like this now? What can't he understand? Forgive?
Slavka also thought about Columbus, who at first did not land on America, and in no way, of course, did not discover it, he ended up in Cuba! And America was just discovered by Cortez! And Malinal helped him in this.
The peace-loving tribe of taens, ready to share everything and everything, Columbus was simply fascinated! The islanders were bullied by Carib cannibals living along the shores of the Caribbean Sea. The taens were all scarred and scarred from constant skirmishes with cannibals. The same, with appetite, ate the purely ecological meat of Cubans fattened on bananas and coconuts.
The taen were captured by subordinates of Montezuma and ... sometimes ritually eaten.
Amidst all this horror, the beautiful girl Malinal was born, it is impossible to imagine how good she was. How passionately she danced. And how she gave herself to Montezuma.
Hernan Cortes instantly fell in love with the beautiful Malintsin. Marina - as the Spaniards called her - became a faithful companion and translator of Cortes.
Well, of course it was a fairy tale invented by the Spaniards ... Or not a tale? Maybe a messenger really ran to Montezuma with the words: “The gods have returned! Their spears spew fire! Their warriors have two heads and six legs, and they live in floating houses.”
Maybe Montezuma has long been waiting for the fulfillment of the ancient prophecy about the return of Quetzalcoatl in the year of Ce Acatl?
Maybe there really were endless meetings, speeches by priests, discussions of ancient prophecies? After all, according to Lebedev, Onoul, who created this very kama-nada-rdrata with him, theoretically could return and tell about what he would see later on the planet. Here's a shamanic prediction for you. Priestly journeys into the future. Here is the oracle broadcast!
Moreover, the documents of the whites (Spaniards) testify that the meetings with Emperor Montezuma II lasted for several days in a row. And there was something to talk about: according to the prophecies, the white gods from across the sea will conquer all the Indian tribes. How to avert trouble and turn away the conquerors? The subjects of Montezuma came up with a cunning move: send generous gifts to the white gods. The Indians hoped not only to appease them, but also to frighten them by showing them their power. No sooner said than done.
And according to other documents, when the stunned Spaniards saw the ambassadors of the king, hung from head to toe in gold, offerings in the form of shields, helmets, weapons, necklaces, and bracelets made of pure gold. They have brains cramped from the possibility of easy money!
Any excuse for an attack was needed. And then ambassadors from the Totonac tribe appear and officially ask the Spaniards for military assistance in the fight against the Aztec invaders!
Malinal freely penetrates any walls. With knowledge of the language, she manages it easily and simply ...
The one she loved, perhaps even forgot the name. But she didn't forget. Women do not forget this!
And she coldly watched as the giant powerful Aztec empire fell not only from the cunning and cruelty of the people of the Old World, but also from the diseases that their ships brought.
The conquistador Hernando Cortes arrived in what is now Mexico in 1519. By that time, the Aztec civilization numbered approximately 15 million people. In a short time, from civil strife, betrayal, and hatred for each other, as well as from imported smallpox and salmonella, the number of Indians fell to a million.
The capital of Tenochtitlan is destroyed. On the site of the main pyramid, the heads of the gods of Water and Wind, Space and Time, Life and Death, Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopochtli were laid out. And on these heads, they built a Catholic church. The capital was renamed Mexico City. Canals were covered with debris from palaces and Martian pyramids. On the ruins of the palace of the last emperor Montezuma, the residence of the Spanish governor was erected.

***
Chapter twenty-five. Green finger.
- Say the name of God! - shouts YurVedich Montezuma, - your God is she! Malinal! The one that you threw out of your life like an unnecessary used mat, the one that was presented to Cortez as a gift. Alive soul.
- Huitzilopochtli my God, - answers the emperor, - Quetzalcoatl. My God is the mother of Death.
...and the empire perishes.

***
- Say the name of God! That's her! Malinal! The one you're about to throw away like a rag doll! - Lebedev shouts to Cortes, when the bridge sags under the weight of the looted gold ...
- Our God is One. Jesus Christ! the Catholic answers.
- You will die in oblivion! They will hide the place of your remains so that they will not be scattered to the wind by the enraged offspring of America! Say the name of God! Until it's not too late! That's her! Malinal! It is she who helps you in everything ... without her you are nothing!
 - Our God is One. Jesus Christ! the Catholic answers.
... and the bridge collapses, burying the best soldiers of Cortez.

***
Nadezhda's love for Montezuma is not passing. Eternal. She comes back with:
- Listen to the beating heart!
And the tailed fetus groans in the tummy, falling into the dream of a five-hundred-year-old birth, as if into the ripe cognac of time, again and again dipping itself into that phrase of Montezuma:
- Listen to the beating heart!
- Say the name of God! Lebedev asks hopelessly and timidly. - Just name it.
And he hears the bold and menacingly quiet answer of the Soul:
- Let God Himself, if he exists, call my name. And I don't want to live.
…
“Listen to the beating of the heart,” reads the whisper of the distant stars of the Dorozhkin universe. Slavka's palm fits more comfortably on her stomach - listen! How it knocks!

***
Quite desperate, and having stopped in throwing, YurVedych takes a break, having fallen into the future.
“I'm already in hell,” a thought lights up in the inner sidelight, because there are a lot of red lights. Too much. And ahead, they generally intertwine into an ominous tangle of flickering garlands. Slower and slower their movements in the black space. The front ones are already up. And the middle ones do not see this yet but move more slowly. Even slower. More. Stop! Cork.
Here you go. Another piece of life eats up a new journey into the Abyss of the near future, in order to then find itself in the recent past.
Mexico. Election races.
Lebedev finds himself on the square in front of the very teocalli, where the victims were previously dumped, and now the Catholic Cathedral.
The crowd is excitedly carried away by another pre-election Mexican screamer:
- We managed to pass the first stage and bend the dagger of decency in the heart of the plague of the old power. Come to the polls, we need together with every voice and every word to twist the dagger three hundred and sixty degrees until we feel a pulse in the handle, feeling that the beating will alert us to the presence of an artery, so to be sure after twisting the knife, you need to swing it there -here, up and down and pull out the dagger of decency. As the blood of the cult Itztli is pumped from the chest of the orange gate of deceit, lies and corruption, we will turn the lifeless corpse of the old president into the deepest part of the Mariana Trench to rot and decay in darkness! How can we do this, you ask? Having registered, and having received worthy, sane, rational people, we will go to vote together, like one dagger. If someone is afraid of the cult, don't interfere with those who are able to complete the mission! We must not be complacent! We are leaders! It's time to go for victory!
- Just say the name of God ... - whispered tired Lebedev.
But no one heard him...
Having wriggled out of the future, he captured Slavka and dragged her into the abandoned house of the present.
For some reason, both of them first of all saw the glasses put into the book, which their mother did not finish reading ... and it hurt their throats.
- Why all this? Slavka flopped down on a chair.
- I've tried all the options. There is no hope left.
- If you look at the problem from the inside, the problem is not visible! Slavka joked.
- I'm not joking.
A psychologist and sociologist by profession, Svetoslav Petrovich realized that the professor was really on the verge. He started a topic that seemed to be completely unrelated to the problem:
- We, incorrigible romantic storytellers, we believe in the materialization of space and time. Why?
- Yes.
- And we live in an illusion all the time.
Lebedev also sat down beside him, intently examining his glasses, as if there was a clue in them.
- We carry the illusion with us, - continued Slavka, - We carry the illusion in ourselves. Knowing that sometimes you can rely only on her! Get out of time and start, like a clockwork. Why?
- Yes.
- And so, to reproduce, so that people feel the illusory nature of our metaphysical spiritual world, as their own material reality.
And suddenly he asked a question that really tormented him:
How does she grow up there? Did not have. was not and suddenly grows. Doesn't stop. So there is still a chance. Yes?
- Yes. There is a chance, - answered the gloomy Lebedev. - How is a cell born and how does it multiply? She is growing... into herself! Grows inside the system. But if we are to be completely honest, then she is an organism that is not born on its own. He was given a command from outside.
The friends were silent. BUT the vector set by Slavka was correct. After all, it was necessary to return a friend from a peak. And Lebedev was carried away by his scientific arguments:
- You see: the Egg is a prototype of a new, eternal, anew repeating Universe minimally unfolding from the assemblage point. Its possibilities are the highest.
The scientist jumped up and walked around the room, waving his hands and showing the birth system of the embryo:
- The process of birth tends to the center. To zero point. It's the cities that grow on the outside. A living organism, like a volcano - from the inside, elastically expanding what a second ago emerged from it as neoplasms. Therefore, not having time to be born, they grow old!
- Why?
- To know Ainsof - the source of information. And learn to love. In the smart "Books of the Dead" of all times and peoples, the Gods of different peoples gave a clear and even answer to this!
In principle... in principle, the new organism exactly repeats itself as the one who died a minute ago, or a hundred minutes ago, or a hundred years ago, or a thousand...
- In our case, five hundred?
- Well, yes. It's like it's copied. Except for a couple of new altered states. These new elements are the future basis of information. The shell of the egg is like the universe. Or the planetary atmosphere, where the information path of development is repeated inside, in a specific place. Fertilization is only an application for the path of possible development. The new formation, as it were, selects, takes away a part of the measurements from the central system. Takes part of it. And this part becomes. It will grow out of it inside the system, but in its own body.
- And then?
- Then? Borscht with a cat! The cell lives for some time, being reflected in the shell, receiving its identification image, and exchanging energy with the cosmos, it makes a second cell. Doubling is a colossal stress and responsibility, because the newly born looks back to see if everything is done correctly. It's not sure. Far from sure. And he. And the Universe is watching for a while to see if everything is done correctly. All chromosomes are drawn to the middle, and then four are born and again four and again four. And so on. Cruciform in several dimensions. Four x-hearts look to the future. Four are in the past. Four more read information horizontally from the present in a coordinate system. Inside is chaos. The system is thrown back a billion years and checks the correctness of the path. Completes chromosome correction.
The cell hangs in the continuum and is affirmed in the new proposed image. It can be called an Exam with God! That is, a newly changed self in itself, embodied many times in the past and itself in the future. In this wonderful magical moment of waiting for growth, the cell allows the very information of millennia to be dragged through itself, and is identified in a new image.
- This is understandable. And what are we to do?
- You promised to tell about the Italian grandmother.
- Oh yes. The incident was real. Wrote in a scientific journal. In short, in Italy, the grandmother went to paint the walls. Poisoned. Fell asleep and petrified. Poison ethers passed through it. Cell growth has stopped. That is, she received clinical death. She was kicked out. Pumped blood. The body began to itch. A 90-year-old woman got off her. A 60-year-old appeared, followed by a 40-year-old, a 20-year-old ....
- So it's all clear. The inertia of the birth sausage or pipe has worked in the opposite direction! The past moved forward. It happened by chance that the energy shell was cleaned, like an egg from a 90-year-old, peeled off. And the antenna of the future incarnation moved telescopically.
- The old turned around, and the river swam back?
- Not. A read has occurred. Reading new information, but they didn’t give a new body, being satisfied with what is. It happens. 16-32 still adheres to the ratio. round zygotes. Blastula. In a continuum, in a pipe...
- Dialectically?
- Well, yes. When the process of birth is going on, what appeared a second ago is wrinkled from the inside. The tube pushes the newly born cells. Crushes old ones. The road is being carved for a new image. And he reacts to himself, and determines the route along the chain. The pipe folds, like primary forms, lives like a single-celled anemone algae. The "pipe" system lays the path for its materialization, the materialization of the spirit in the body. The newly formed image changes, but only slightly.
- A dream of birth?
- Wow! All trips in a similar period of "time of change" are closed by the system. The "dream of birth" should not be remembered by the soul! It is forbidden!
An apple fell from the branches.
Both looked out the window. Thought.
- Last thing…
- Last hope…
Is it God, was it so arranged - Svetoslav lived under the kind dome of his mother, but also far from her. Not like others. Not like those who endure old age in their close combat and in their own kitchen, shuffling slippers, knocking a spoon on a plate in the early morning ...
The mother realized early on that her self-sufficiency is the highest lesson for her own beloved son ...
The arrangement was so arranged that in his most mature days he lost something like a mother. It's like she's dead to him. But she died in a weird way. At any moment he could call her. Ask about something. And feel her care and warmth. Just feel warm.
And now she's dead.
And the dome is gone. And now everything. That's all. And that paradise, from where she could show her mercy from time to time, collapsed. The last apple in her garden fell off the branch. And life ceased to exist. Or that death that they rehearsed for years, decades in the inevitability of separation suddenly inevitably came.
Lebedev left the house. Thank you for him.
- What is the book about?
- What book?
- In which glasses are laid?
- Gardening.
- It's clear. Now I understand where else I need to go. Look, Slav, it would seem that everything is simple. Below is water. Top air. In the middle is ice holding the body. The mirror of ice is an intermediate state between sleep and distress.
Move on.
The ice has collapsed. We are almost there. We have breached the mystery of knowledge. Or not?
There is an opinion among the husbands of scientists that at the birth of our universe, an anti-universe, equal to ours, but consisting of antimatter, should have appeared. They cannot find it, and they assume that it is in antispace, parallel to ours, according to the hypothesis of Academician Naan. At the same time, it is known that photons and antiphotons coincide, which means that they can freely, without annihilation, penetrate from the world into the antiworld and vice versa.
If we assume that on the plane of the mirror there is not a reflection of light, but its interpenetration, and at the same time the mirror is like a window for light between our worlds, one photon flew out one flew in at that time, then it is clear why the image that we see in an ordinary mirror is essentially our antipode.
- A man? The person we see is talking to him. Who is he for us? Portal? An entrance to the underworld? Gates?
- Any right-handed person sees a left-handed person in the mirror, with a heart on the right and a different name ... Are our names written by reflections of water? Heaven? Dreams?
- Yeah! And now what? Am I a son or a father?
- Holy Spirit! Lebedev laughed.
- Do not blaspheme!
- Do not blaspheme! Now there is a special interesting state of the birth of a new person. Water, ice and steam - liquid, solid and gaseous - and at once, and everything ...
- The main thing is not to talk to different parts of your consciousness and subconscious at the same time!
- You know, Bolshakov, the Atmosphere is not three-layered, as they teach at school, but multilayered!!! And the interior of the Earth is similar! It's simple on the diagram. But in reality it's not like that!
- But as?
- In science, this is called the state of Berserk. Entry into the Spirit. Or becoming a warrior. The transformation of Pushkin's Guidon into a mosquito and back.
- What are you thinking again?
- Wait until then. I decided to check something. The glasses have just given me the answer. What did mother grow here? Lebedev asked.
- Potatoes. Tomatoes. Corn. - Answered Slavka, - seeds. Pumpkin - well, everything that the Russians have always grown.
- Russians? Ha! What you listed, just the Indians cultivated in their fields! It was then that the conquistadors from the New World brought to the Old World on ships .... So, potatoes and tomatoes, you say ... clearly! Now everything is clear! So. Where did I fly... Yeah. I was in the future. Then - in the present. All. It's time to go a little bit into the past, on the same site. And Lebedev disappeared.

***
A leap of consciousness. U-turn - and YurVedych moved to the village a few weeks before the death of Slavia’s mother. Costs. Looks straight at her. There didn't seem to be a person. Once. There is a man - formed at the fence.
Bolshakova looked and straightened up. Waiting for the ghost to say. And finally heard:
- God helps.
“God is a god, and he himself would have helped,” the woman retorted.
YurVedich was glad that Soul met him more than kindly. He briskly jumped the gate, like a fourteen-year-old teenager.
She was surprised:
- Whence such quick?
- From beyond.
Mother did not believe it, because she again buried herself in work, continuing to weed the grass in the beds, as if the visit of a stranger did not concern her.
- Can you get hold of a currant leaf, hostess?
The mother raised her eyes again, but without annoyance:
- What sheet is it now? Branches only. You are behind the sheet, dear man, come back in a couple of weeks.
YurVedich stood for some time, shifting from foot to foot. He watched as she pulled out the weeds with a chopper, knocking them out of the ground like pillows that had fallen down over the winter, and throwing her devastated lungs into a bucket.
- Deftly you them! - the uninvited guest praised, - as if you know that in a past life they were your enemies ...
- Don't talk nonsense, - cut off the hostess, - in what kind of past life? Maybe there is a future?
- Definitely, - Lebedev smiled. - How difficult it is for you. Hostess. And garden. And a house. Maybe you have a gift? "Green finger"?
His mother, thoughtfully mumbling some old song under her breath, defiantly got up to escort him to the gate, and looking at the mountain of fallen weeds, said:
- Yes, what is the "Green finger"? You will say too ... Just patience. And labor. That's the kind of life we have. Maybe boring. Not interesting. But it must be dealt with, - and added, - definitely.
Without saying goodbye, as well as not saying hello, YurVedich took a step back from her Light into her Darkness.

***
- There is no clue, - he only answered Slavka, who was waiting in the present, - we must look deeper.
- Where?
She mumbled something under her breath. The answer is to be found in this song. Wait a minute. I think I understand ... now I'll try ...
And now he is rushing through the sands and thorns. In the heat, stones crackle like in a sauna. Finding fields of maize, agave, potatoes, corn, sunflowers and pink and yellow pumpkins, Lebedev's projection unfolds in a tribe of Indians.
At the largest wigwam, where perhaps the local leader lives - a cacique, a young woman, perhaps his wife, purrs the same song under her breath. Lullaby? Not? The song has no words. Only motive.
Everything blooms in her garden, no matter what she touches, no matter what she planted. The rugs weave "themselves". "Themselves" knit networks. “Themselves” grow up talented children. They say about such people that from birth they have a magical gift called the "green finger" ...
The pullet right on the street deftly weaves another dream trap from threads, belts and feathers. A circle. Another circle. Traps are beads. Lebedev almost gets stuck in a trap, but grabs a cactus just in time.
For the mother, a teenage girl with one of his tall tops picks off several sweet fruits, and hurries to treat:
- Mother!
- ... my dear, - the black-haired beauty is touched, presses the girl to her chest, and turning her eyes to the sky, thanks the queen mother-death of the gods of the Indians for her affectionate and attentive daughter:
- Mother! My mother! Thank you!

***
- What? What have you learned?
- If you shout “mama”!, then you don’t need to add the word “help”, because the first syllable “ma” is an appeal to the ancient goddess, the progenitor of all earthlings “Ma-a-a!”, And the second syllable “ma” - twice repeated spell for help. It's clear?
- It's not clear.
- The most ancient eras are the Archean and Catarchean, and then the Cenozoic, Mesozoic, Triassic, Jurassic, Cretaceous ... And we all lived there too. And here. And the longer the Soul lives and develops, the longer its identification number. Mother. It's two times ma. Jesus. These are two vowels. Understand?
- Lyulu-lyuli you are carrying some!
- Exactly! It is Lyuli-Luli - the first gods of love! Two syllables were repeated only as a last resort. The more repetitions, the...
- Thrice-greater than Hermes?!
- So and KA-KA-Oh! An old god too, by the way! No wonder Montezuma drank cocoa every day! Kak-Ava is the ancient goddess Ma-a. In the language of ancient Atlantis, and the conquerors from Mars, Oval and Aval are almost the same. The form of cities is one.
- It's in the past.
- Not. The future is just a projection of the past. Once you get into the future, get out of there if you start showing off. But let me get the main point across. The name, strengthened by two syllables, was given only to the most outstanding personalities. So the word mom or hygiene or ka-ka-o or ku-ku-ruza - all from this area. Theo-Theo-unakan.
Spell. CONSPIRACY. Word code. Key word. The set of keywords is even more complicated. Kind of like a question and answer. Named the password - finished the password - the door opened. The mission of ancient power and medicine - she could both raise her to her feet and drive her crazy. Double-edged sword. One helps - the other - beats mercilessly. In this life he adds and gives - in the next he takes! And not the fact that this life is more important. Maybe next time you'll be more talented.
- I thought it was an oval - a fall - a shaft.
- Absolutely right, because the whole, Adea - is health, that is, living people do not know this. And, if two syllables in the name are reinforced by each other, then they are no longer random. And deserved. This means that a subject with this name can live in several projections, including in the mental.
- Jacob according to the Bible?
- Well, these are already echoes. There were also very well-deserved names, such as Irna-fan-fan-fa-nan.
- Among the peoples of the north, yokharye - repeated thousands of times.
- Yes. And the Africans were hammering into tambourines: boo-boo-boo, rhythmically awakening heaven and earth. Among the natives of India, life, as it were, in general, if it is easier to say, fit between inhalation and exhalation. Ha-ri Krishna, Ha-ri Ra-ma, Ha-ri-Ha-ri. Ra-ma, Ra-ma, Vasisht-ha!
- And for the lullaby of mommy, bye-bye-bye-bye came up with.
- God too! Listen further. The road from Moscow to the "beginning of the world" was built many times. But here's the catch - in the permafrost there is a bottom, and at the bottom there is another bottom ... and this can happen several times. Like your bye-bye-bye-bye endless. In summer, the lenses of ice melt. And the road is "eaten up by the earth." Can you imagine??? - what forces and means have been ruined, but the path has not been paved! However, from a high place you can fly to Anadyr on ILs, well, or from Kamchatka by sea ...
- You can also, if you are a bear and you are not afraid of permafrost failures ... Well, or you are Abramovich and you have your own airplane in America.
- What am I leading to? to the fact that sometimes such thicknesses of permafrost lie between people that it takes years to build “access roads” to them ... Look, what you built has gone into the swamp! Ate the earth! So, so that another life does not slip through your fingers and there are codes. Passwords. Spells!
- You carried the words so much, as if you had found some way.
- The priest said "Vantana Aua!" - and from the past to the future the transfer of the body. Spirit. new existence. Therefore, the best were selected for death, those who played football and won, to be torn apart at the top of the pyramid, and the body would be thrown down the bloody ramps. And the head would be dropped...
- And the brains would have scattered in different directions, - Slavka continued in the same tone, - And the heart would tremble alive and hot in the hands of the magician. But my beloved, although the best being in the universe, should not fall into these millstones! “My favorite,” Lebedev said firmly.

Chapter twenty-six. Birth of Faith in Hope.
The Greens of the real worlds tensed up.
The reptoids, those that are tough and pragmatic, still remembering their Martian past, looked at the appearance and disappearance of the professor on one continent, then on another, calmly observing the situation, not believing that such a steep karma could somehow be changed at all. The catastrophe of the Great Eminent Soul was approaching. Or simply, miscarriage.
But time passed, bringing the term of the motherland closer, but there was no catastrophe, no miscarriage.
Blue-blue - the wisest - who were chosen by observers, given to earthlings and inhabitants of other planets by a single supreme god, it seemed that they were waiting for Lebedev to use the chance or handicap given to him at birth. Other Forms and Animals and Insects, and even people in dull gray suits, also took some time out.
YurVedych fed Verochka Anatolyevna Dorozhkina without fanaticism, without baked and sweet things, so as not to spoil her form, but also to pamper the fetus.
And Slavka every minute with his wife tried to stroke her tummy. And he washed himself in the bathroom and whispered words of love to the future newborn.
“Are you talking to her because it’s the science of science?” the wife asked as her husband lathered her back.
- Not at all. I just love you and her. Well, you yourself know that everything is not the way you see, but the way you feel. After all, an adult who has already been born, has learned everything, begins to speak long before the lips move, and the tongue and larynx give birth to sounds. And, by the way, after it falls silent, the Soul still speaks... Only science can't name this paradox yet.
Are you saying that she hears everything inside there?
- And how!
- And already talking?
- With might and main! ... Only you do not hear ...

***
In rare intervals between hits in the future, the professor hovered to see the matrix of the birth of the galaxy. It exactly matched what he saw there, in the amniotic fluid in the pitch blackness of the womb. And only energy light rings, one from the other, were strung on his world galactic discovery.
The new formula, prescribed by Lebedev through the measurement into immortality, looked more like a matrix.
Once firmly stuck in the future, Lebedev begged, asking the administration to throw him back.
The administration resisted; she was interested in the experience of falling into a dream of birth:
- This is great! And is there a formula?
- It's the matrix!
- Draw!
- I can not! I haven't finished it yet! All I can say is that the continuum is one. It is perfectly round. But only human thought allows us to adapt conceptual thinking to real realities, from one space to another.
- Take our laboratories! Stay! Your mega-mind is needed here more than the!!!
- Don't let me leave!
And every time Lebedev faithfully and faithfully returned with a terrific piece of useful
food for baby development.
In addition, he cooked cocoa himself, explaining to Vera how exactly cocoa and chocolate would be useful for both her and the baby.
- Montezuma, and the kings had to have 30 women a day.
- This is true? I do not believe.
- Do not believe. Just drink cocoa! The emperors of America, the secret of such productivity, were initiated by the gods who descended from heaven, who, according to legend, were exactly like you, blue-eyed and fair-haired, who brought cocoa grains, corn, sunflowers, etc. on fiery wings. Taught how to prepare the divine drink of rejuvenation.
- I somehow didn’t particularly love him, to be honest, - the pregnant woman admitted, - I just don’t know how to cook. It's kind of undercooked for me. Raw.
- And you just pour boiling water. And you still need to boil a little in the milk, - Lebedev taught, - So, cocoa, and later, chocolate, was picked up by the Jesuits from Mexico. And, since it was a drink, not food, it is an aphrodisiac that causes a narcotic elevated feeling of reverence, improves mood and sexual desire, and also completely removes stress symptoms and obsessive states, up to all sorts of dementias, including mainly through intercourse, the holy inquisition did not pay attention to him, did not forbid him, and let him into the New World. The secrets of the Jesuits have been kept for centuries. One of the ingredients worked in chocolate is the honey of wild bees. More than two thousand receptors are focused on recognizing the smell of cocoa and chocolate in the air. And before the taste works, this miracle drink is felt by the nostrils. Like Arabic aphrodisiac spirits, Cocoa spirits act on the subconscious.
- Aren't you afraid, YurVedich, that this is already too much?
- What, too much?
- Well, that's all you're talking about sexual potency. Why do I need her now? I'm not going to give birth today or tomorrow!
- I'm not afraid. Let Slavka be afraid! If people stopped being afraid, civilizations would die. Two terrible forces of influence on any human organism - the fear of death and sex - the Cocoa Spirit wins!
These solemn preparations were always crowned with ceremonial cocoa drinking. Moreover, without fail, the drink was poured from a narrow spout, the jug raised as high as possible into a cup, so that a pleasant oxygen foam was formed.
Layers of time on a human global scale prompted Lebedev not to rush.
The fetus clearly gave normal signals of life.
And finally, the Soul of Hope thawed so much that it allowed him to break out of the black waters and enter his Light. A tiny little hand mentally took the professor's hand, put it to a tiny breast and whispered softly, softly in a doll voice so that mother would not hear:
- Listen to the beating heart!

***
The stifled groan of a woman ... and - a cry! Children's cry.
The umbilical cord was cut off.
- The last does not come out. Put your baby on your chest! the doctor gave the order.
And he himself went out into the corridor, where two were waiting:
- She gave birth. Girl. Reflexes are working fine. The heart beats clearly and evenly, - and, before returning, he added, - I don’t see any reason for concern at all.
- She forgave me. How do you think? Slavka asked Lebedev excitedly.
- I would not forgive, - YurVedych snapped.
But a second later, he himself, with restraint, but still triumphantly smiled, feeling the approaching victory.
During this time, the nurse deftly and quickly swaddled the girl. Served to the mother.
Dorozhkina quaveringly looked at the newborn, who, as it seemed to her, looked at her with no less curiosity. The midwife also noticed an incredibly meaningful look:
- Serious what! she muttered, placing the bag more comfortably against her mother's breast.
Vera hummed some deep song.
And, before tasting mother's milk right on the birth table, the newborn Soul murmured clearly with naughty lips, as if exhaling the pain of past lives in order to forgive and forget:
- Mom...
- ... my dear, - Dorozhkina whispered touched, putting her daughter to her chest.
With the last came the last opportunity for Lebedev to communicate with the Soul of Malinal.
Feelings that she could never explain overwhelmed the woman in labor. Above the two heads, as on an icon, the common Mother of God light of the mysterious figure eight of the M;bius strip was indicated. Together with the milk, the stream of the Milky Way gushed with the genetic code of distant stars, which the Soul inseparably drank in the new Oblivion of life, mumbling and grumbling, as if complaining about everything that happened to it, until it again stuck to ... infinity.
And with every sip in Malinal, the confidence grew stronger that in this incarnation she would be loved more than life.
- Mother! My mother! – the woman in labor whispered gratefully, - Thank you!
This was heard by a swarthy woman who, half a millennium ago, looked after Montezuma's receding palanquin. And her tears there, in that distant lived past, dried up. A gold coin fell out of his hand.
This was heard by a man who sweated a hundred times at the birthplace.
And this was heard by the peaceful and contented professor, like a cat that has eaten too much fish on a wild stretch. His eyebrows flew up in amusement.
The code of the universe worked, and it was as if the key closed the star gates of the memory of past lives forever.
“This was the name of God…?!"- Slavka guessed.
“That was the name of God.”- Lebedev confirmed.

                S.V. Savitskaya. 2009-2022
                Authorized translation by Vladimir Morgan