“You are free to choose where to go. You are a man born to be heaven.
Who led us into some kind of swamp. Man does everything for himself.
Now the time has come to accelerate some universal processes.
And those whose way of life does not correspond to the natural laws of being will be tested first in the most ordinary way, understandable and clear, and these tests are for them as a good sign to comprehend their actions, their path. Those who fail to comprehend will still have adversity, and then they will have to leave life in order to be healthy again in 9000 years”
I met Dima in “my yard” opposite the annex, where the father of cosmonaut Shatalov lived, in the spring, when we were seven. Dima had the same blue bicycle as mine, so this commonality brought us together at first sight.
True, Dima wanted to become a paratrooper, and I wanted to be a pilot, but then it seemed to me that he would change his mind. There was still time!
Then we studied at different schools, but we were always in the same place. Dima grew up without a father, with his mother, who taught French, at a French school. And my mother taught English. Standard, abandoned teacher's children. Truth, I had a father, and also a grandmother and grandfather, in Leningrad, but they all worked, and my father generally left for sea trials of his submarines.
Dima lived on the second line, and I lived on the third, opposite each other. Sometimes we didn't even make phone calls, but simply fired wire bullets from the slingshot at the windows.
Our whole life with Dima took place in our yards, on the Vasilyevsky, Petropavlovka lines and the Lenin Stadium. Later, the Smolensk cemetery appeared.
Since I was more controlled, I studied better and Dima's mother, wishing well, put Dima in the Suvorov military school. This was right, because Dima knew military service and did not want to serve, but the results of his studies increased dramatically. I was especially pleased with his success in writing essays. My writing scores have also increased.
He fell in love with electronics. Even on his 10th or 12th birthday, he asked me to give him a soldering iron.
Then, we climbed into different yards, especially the Kazitsky factory, and collected parts for Dima's future devices from radio-detail dumps. Radio electronics is becoming
becomes Dima's most powerful hobby, and everything else is secondary. I was the most important thing in his life. We were generally called Romeo and Juliet. We had constant disputes about this, but in general, judging by the physique, then Dima was more suitable for the name Romeo.
Later Dima reached 190sm. He could easily extinguish the light bulbs in the porches, with his right or left foot, jumping up, twisting somersaults forward or backward, and also, perfectly master the soldering iron. In general, Dima was great!
In the summer we were at the dacha in different places, but one line from Finland Station and again we were together, with the exception of 1975, when I spent all the time at the airfield in Lisy Nos.
And so we were together all the time. We even bought “Sport” bicycles at the same time. And the bikes were gold. Dima drove at high speeds for a longer time, having attached himself to the tail of a passing bus. But he sincerely admired my ability to calculate everything in such a way that there seemed to be no risk.
We drove to different lakes on the Korelsky Isthmus to have a good swim and sunbathe.
Then I entered the Sivil Aviation Academy, and Dima entered the LIAP (Leningrad Institute of Aviation Instruments). Everyone was fine.
Then we began to meet girls, and maybe girls began to meet us.
Once, already in the second, and maybe in the third year. It was necessary to study a heterodyne receiver with five parallel boards. Well, I'm not used to dealing with some kind of wild tensions that are not visible at all! And the exam is tomorrow. And I don't understand anything. I'm calling Dima. And Dima met a girl, so he said goodbye to his girlfriend in order to explain heterodyne receivers to me!
Dima decided to marry. Of course, I was against it. But, Dima was very stubborn, and his girlfriend looked like a good person. In general, he got married, then a daughter appeared.
Dima worked hard at night in the bakery, and then sat at the institute in the classroom.
Then, of course, it broke. You can't argue against nature, even if harmonious scientific theories are born in the head, like kittens in a cat. Actually, Dima didn’t have a head, but there was some kind of computer that could work for several days, and then passed out with Dima for several days, well, for 14-15 hours. But still, according to Dima, he won some time every day. And if for a month, and if for a year? So it was in his theory.
“Morning” when the clock was 13-14 hours, he started with a half-liter cup of coffee and turned on Pink Floyd. (automatically or manually) The speakers were homemade, probably some of the best in the world at that time. Dima said so.
Do you know how that genius assembled an electronic alarm clock that was connected to his homemade tape recorder, speakers, and who knows what else?
He connected just the necessary wires. Stick them somewhere and achieve the desired effect. Moreover, he did not use any drawings! His drawings were only in his head! Once, he offered to open his door, while he gave me a match with the words - this is the key! The door was drilled with a dozen holes with a diameter of 1-2mm . The match slipped through and that's it. Then Dima showed me the right hole, but I could not open his door. Then Dima did it himself, only by turning the match a couple of times!
It's time for me to write my thesis.
I have admired and written about inertial navigation systems.
Dima with a computer instead of a head threw me such a wonderful idea that its implementation could already pull not only for a diploma, but, unfortunately, the idea remained just an idea for a number of reasons
I have been flying for a whole year, and Dima is still studying. When he graduated. Then he asked me:
“Aleksey, where do you think I will be more useful to the Motherland in a problem or at a factory?” “Problema” is an office where they invented something and had a salary of 120 rubles, but were at the peak of scientific research. At the plant, they paid 15-20 rubles more, but they were engaged in a production routine. I then told Dima that with brains you need to go to the “problem”, with such mental abilities you can count on a quick take-off. Dima remained in the "problem".
Dima has not yet grown up to family life, so he divorced, leaving his wife a little daughter.
Literally after a couple of months of his work there, he reports: Alexey, we have earned at least 50,000 rubles! (He did not separate me from himself, but of course it was his money earned, just such a wording.)
Damn you two will give them to you, I say. Dima, he explains to me how the head of the department came and set them the task of making a program for the entire department in a month. And Dima says, do not touch me for three days and three nights. I will make this program for you. Having multiplied the number of people in the department, by their working hours, by their monthly salary, he received that amount of 50,000 rubles.
For three days and three nights, with breaks for drinking coffee and smoking, Dima gives away that program. On the day of his salary, he was paid a bonus of 140 rubles.
Dima bought himself new winter shoes for 60 rubles and something else winter.
Of course, Dima did not experience deep moral satisfaction, there was not enough money.
Then, he leaves for another troubled lab.
The result was the same. True, he was exiled to help on the collective farm, which made Dima nervous! This was done with an educational purpose, so that my brilliant friend would not be clever!
After these events, Dima decided not to work at all and blame the commies for all troubles.
“Money lies under your feet, you just need to be able to pick it up”
Of course, I was still young and stupid and did not see the difference between the commies or members of the CPSU and the Communists. That's why I called them all communists. Because, in the local head it could not fit, how can you put your I in the foreground. (YOUR I PUT ON THE FIRST PLACE)
In general, then we had a theory. Man is born neutral. It is influenced by family and school and other environment, and over time a person has a certain circle of a certain diameter. Here inside this circle is DECENCY!!! And outside is meanness!!! If a person makes a deal with his CONSCIENCE,
(the conscience is covered with purulent pimples) then the radius of the circle decreases and will NEVER return to the previous radius. Therefore, it is useless to put a person in jail, although there are exceptions to any rule.
Dima's life was easy. His earnings were term papers and theses made in LIAPA for those students who could be either nothing, or even people's deputies. Even at first, he went to the corner of the 9th line and Sredny and sold vodka at night at prices that differed from daytime prices in the store.
And when I arrived, we went to some tavern to drink cognac and eat basturma.
Dima also knew French very well. A person who knows a foreign language will try to deepen and strengthen his knowledge. Better than with native speakers, it won't work. Therefore, Dima communicated with the French. He was caught more than once and turned out his pockets in search of currency and drugs. But Dima's pockets were empty.
Not fucking understanding cops could not understand
-Communicate? So, go there, there and communicate!
-With joy, I'll leave in my pants, just let me go!
I couldn't understand it either. I couldn't let my friend turn into a parasite.
In that society, as he said, Butusov sang “March, march of the left ...”
A very gray society was created. Members of the CPSU, in close alliance with the workers of the Soviet Trade, destroyed our Motherland.
It was easier for me. I flew. It was impossible to fly badly. You will fall, you will be completely dead ...
And if you rise above this gray mass, then that gray mass will suck you back in like a swamp.
My friend's temper began to deteriorate around this time. He increasingly began to deviate from the rules that we ourselves prescribed in our lives.
In the year 88 or 89 Dima leaves for Paris on a tour. He lagged behind the group and, counting on a small amount of money for the first time, began to look for housing.
The farther from the center, the lower the cost of housing. Dima calculated that he could spend 25 francs per day in order to have time to find a job. He had only 2-3 days. He needed a hotel for 18-19 francs. End of Paris. There is nothing further. Hunger and fatigue set in. But Dima was not the first! The owner of the last hotel called the price-20 francs. There's nowhere to go now. Dima went downstairs to rest and smoke. At the same moment, the innkeeper ran downstairs to offer him a room for 18 francs.
Monsieur, he began, I have a number for 18, but not quite corrected.
-What is wrong there?
-Bede doesn't work there! (this is such a thing for washing ass)
In general, Dima stayed there.
-What do you, monsieur, know how to do?
-All.
And Dima fixed the photodiodes on the stairs and the dishwasher, and
the owner fed and watered Dima and even helped him find a job.
And Dima began to work in an engineering position, as a technician, in a warranty workshop for television equipment. By the way, in his opinion, the best company then was FILLIPS. This is what he told me later. There were no more warranty workshops from FILLIPS, so I later bought a SONY TV.
So Dima worked in Paris for two years. He liked Paris. They work there just like we do. Saying that they work better there, they increase the surplus value, which is easier to drag past the cash register. Of course, this is not the case everywhere.
Late Dima informed his superiors about the visa and he had to return.
The USSR no longer existed, as well as the “hated commies”. Then in 1991-92, we still did not suspect that EBN was a commie number 1.
We met happily. I have already flown in St. Petersburg. Dima started repairing televisions and other radio-electronic pieces. The salary was certainly not what we would like. Have you met a person who, at a young age, would be satisfied with his salary?
Dima's life principles began to differ greatly from those accepted, they became the same as those of those who tried to lead us, but they had power, but there was no mind. And Dima had a mind, but no power.
In general, and not having spent a year in Russia, Dima suddenly leaves for Canada. By that time, we have managed to disperse with him. There was a small connection with his mom, who took over the alimony payments from her pension. After seven or eight years, she was going to see Dima in Canada, and I decided to give Dima a bottle of cognac, on which I wrote “Smell of the childhood”
Dima succeeded in Montreal, learned English, bought a luxury car, saw all of America and was satisfied with his life, because he was doing his favorite thing. He sent me photos. One was a picture of the World Trade Center with Dima in the background with his fancy car, and the other was Dima and Niagara Falls.
In Montreal, Dima moved some electronic company, for which he received a lot of money
(sometimes more than $100,000 per month), however, some slut, originally from Ukraine, managed to put a pen on his money, that even Interpol could not find it.
Dima, as his mother said, took her to the park, they say, sit here, I'll be right back. Returned. An open bottle of Finlandia protruded from his pocket. Mom was shocked.
Dima was about 190 cm and the fact that he had already drunk almost half a bottle did not affect him. He took out a paper from his driver's license - gratitude from the local traffic police that for more than so many years he had never violated traffic rules and handed it to his mother. (No, of course, it’s cooler here. Some drove and can’t drive without drinking, and if he drinks, then put out the lights altogether!)
In general, it turned out that the mother had to be late, because Dima did not have the opportunity (I do not understand this myself) to buy a ticket back. While Dima was at work, his mother secretly earned money for a ticket to Russia. She cried when she told me!
We corresponded with Dima on the Internet. On the Internet, I sent him my “10600…”
He read and answered, just don't laugh, because I was laughing! Ultimately, this is how it turns out. He was right.
“This should be read by the whole world! “
That's it, no more, no less!
Then Dima started calling me regularly from his Canada. Moreover, we talked for a long time, which surprised me very much. Dima changed firms and worked in another, some kind of pharmaceutical company. He managed to increase the dosage accuracy by 40 times!
I then told him that it was great, but your methods of work will not be clear to your management. Dima soon became unemployed.
Somehow he called and said if I remember Rembrandt's painting "The Return of the Prodigal Son" I say that of course I remember it and even saw it in Amsterdam.
And Dima tells me that the “Prodigal Son” is he. I got very upset.
Dima's mother is ill with cancer, I was horrified to report this event. He has visa problems because he lost his Russian passport. I'm leaving for Staraya Russa to rest, and Dima makes his way to Russia. In Staraya Russa, I always liked to relax, because there is nothing to do there. In addition to what you yourself want and always our guys. And the bosses didn't go there.
And now I'm not very healthy, and the doctors remembered me differently! In general, they prescribed me all sorts of injections and procedures. And one nurse, as soon as she saw me, immediately told me to go to the Church of St. Anthony. She took me by the hand and led me to the bus.
Okay, I say, let's go.
The pop that met us was real. Priest!
While he was talking about St. Anthony, we had to write notes about health and buy containers for holy water. Meanwhile, Pop was talking about St. Anthony, how he came from near Tver to the Novgorod lands, how he served the Lord, how he built and built a temple. How an evil wind carried a fire to that church, how Anthony did not extinguish it, but began to pray to God that the wind would turn.
And the wind turned away. and the temple didn't burn down...
At this very moment, I say to the Pope, they say, how can you hope for God, but don’t make a mistake yourself?
Pop looked at me sternly and said, here one said something similar, a couple of hours later he was under the car.
I was upset, again I offended an innocent person. In general, Pop decided that he offended me and he came up to me. I also calmed him down. I am a pensioner, the material has already been worked out.
He took my note for health and decided to read a prayer for me. And in that note I asked for my child, wife, my parents, her, and friends. Dima was among my friends. In short, there was not enough space for me. That Pop respected me! He prayed for me more than for others, and he poured and consecrated Holy Water for me!
We said goodbye to him, like old friends!
... Dima returned, and his mother died, and he did not have time for her funeral. Dima's ex-wife and granddaughter buried her. We saw Dima at the end of April 2007, about 3 days after my return. He was sitting on the fence separating the carriageway of the 2nd line from the sidewalk and was smoking. In his left hand was a plastic bottle filled with liquid, which he drank from time to time.
Joyful meeting! Dima is just as healthy, under 2 meters and looked good!
We went up to him. The same mess. As before. An ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a battery of empty vodka bottles on the floor.
He didn't feel very well. And here is a Leningrader, without a Russian passport.
What to do? I called my doctor friend. After receiving detailed instructions, I set to work. The next morning I brought everything that the doctor ordered and Dima ordered, except for a bottle of vodka.
Dima was upset and began to ask me, they say, why did I buy him so few pills from the liver. And I tell him that you will drink expensive pills for the liver with vodka, and demanded that he stop drinking alcohol. Dima promised.
He also asked me to invite him to my parents and to see my wife with a 22-year-old child. And I say that I haven’t had him for ten years already, and as soon as he quit alcohol, I’ll invite him to see mine. He was tormented by the question that his daughter did not strive for anything and how to influence her? I tell him that he can no longer influence him, because Dima is not a father, but a producer!
We decided to meet him the next day and take a walk along Vasilyevsky.
In the morning Dima was in perfect order and decided to meet at 18.00 near the house.
We met, but Dima felt bad. Barely on his feet. Temperature 40.
We went home, he says, and I'll lie down. He was afraid that he would infect the devil knows what.
In the morning I went to work, but Dima no longer has a temperature. And I'm calm.
The temperature appeared in the evening. My doctor said I needed to call an ambulance. Dima went downstairs to meet the ambulance, apparently he really did not want the doctors to see that battery of bottles.
They took him to the Botkin Barracks. It was only on May 2 that it was possible to find out that Dima had died.
Dima turned out to have pneumonia. We burned his body on May 8 and I cried
Mentioned his ex-wife, relative, friend and me.
I returned home and immediately the postman brought a telegram - my wife's father died at the age of 80. He went to the front at the age of 17, in 1943. Even newspapers wrote about him. Finished the war in Austria.
The Soldier did not live to see Victory Day.
Like this.