Is a harmonious society a necessary utopia? An octopus's opinion of Chudinov Slipping into a hole of almost any size

Sideshow

In July 1988, the Soviet Union launched two automatic interplanetary stations, Phobos. They had to fly up to this satellite of Mars, take high-resolution photographs and land an automatic station and a jumping robot on its surface. September 1, 1988 Due to an erroneous command, the Phobos-1 station was lost. March 27, 1989 -- connection lost from the AMS "Phobos-2". It was not possible to reliably determine the cause; it is assumed that the on-board computer failed. On November 9, 2011, as part of the Phobos-soil program of the Russian space agency, the next expedition to Phobos was launched, which was supposed to deliver soil samples from the Mars satellite to Earth in 2014, but as a result of an emergency situation (presumably a software failure), the station was not placed on the calculated trajectory, and on January 15, 2012 it fell into the Pacific Ocean. The Russian spacecraft Phobos-Grunt 2 is planned to be launched in 2024. I wonder if he will be able to get to the unlucky satellite, figure out what the strange grooves on its surface are and what is in the voids that occupy a third of the volume? Reality is changeable. Every moment many Universes are born. At first they differ only slightly. But gradually diverge to the sides, like the branches of a growing tree. This m ir spun off from ours sometime in the second half of the twentieth century. At first the differences were very minor, but late summer 2016 , according to the second law of dialectics, quantity has turned into quality . This reality has become increasingly distant from the one in which we live. But , despite this, the world I describe does not go beyond the limits of the possible. WITH the events in it went along a different branch of probabilities, remaining on the same tree.

Chapter 1. Hostage.

14.05.2017. 8:05

I'm off! - Bye! Happy studying! - Mom responded from the kitchen. In a low voice so as not to wake up my father. Today is Saturday, and he will sleep until almost lunchtime. - Mom! - I realized. - Dasha, Vera and I will take a little walk after school. “Okay,” my mother agreed accommodatingly. - Just call me if you're going to be late. And I ran away. Well, that is, quickly, skipping, she ran down the stairs from our third floor and quickly walked out into the courtyard. There are still twenty-five minutes before class, and I have about fifteen minutes to walk. My school is in the very center of the village, and we live on the southern outskirts in one of the five-story buildings. As usual, I did not go out onto the Evpatoria Highway, but went west, along Gogol. It’s faster, and there are almost no cars at all. And, in general, I like such quiet green streets. Especially on Saturday mornings when everyone normal people They sleep and only lonely schoolchildren trudge to study. I adjusted my backpack on my back and moved along the narrow paths between private houses. My village is almost all one-story. Just a small microdistrict with several Khrushchev buildings, in one of which I live, and two-story apartment buildings. I moved past them. The morning was warm. I could feel summer approaching, and I also dressed for summer. Skirt, knee socks, blouse and uniform vest. The wind was a little cold on my bare knees, but it was even pleasant. And, in general, I was in a very good mood. Saturday, only English, Russian and history lessons. And then a week and a half and - vacation! I will become a seventh grader and have a whole summer ahead of me! You can laze around, walk with girlfriends, drive or just walk to the very close sea. And in the evenings I can play as much as I want on the computer. My brother, when he went into the army, left it at my complete disposal, although he threatened that if I erased anything, he would screw my head off when he returned. But I'm careful! I only put in a few toys and that’s it. Well, I download fresh animes, of course. In six months, when Andrei is demobilized, I will force him to watch them all. But there’s no point in getting your younger sister hooked on Japanese culture! I went out to the corner of Gagarin and turned left along the lane towards Gogol. On the right are more houses, on the left is a vacant lot. From the north, from the sea, the distinct sound of flying helicopters can be heard. Probably two or three. But I'm already used to this. Still, it’s twenty kilometers to the Ukrainian coast, and there, after the resignation of the president, there’s some kind of mess again. The news says that the fascists have taken power and announced another mobilization. And I'm worried about Andrey. Some of them are near Krasnoperekopsk, almost on the border itself. I wish he would return from the army soon! The noise of helicopter rotors seems to be getting closer. I wonder who they're catching? And there are soldiers ahead. Six people in camouflage with large backpacks and weapons. It's strange that it's not on the armor. Usually border guards drive around in armored personnel carriers and patrol the shore. I slowed down a little. For some reason it became alarming. And the military men are walking towards me and their faces are somehow preoccupied and nervous, or something. They looked in my direction and began to argue about something quietly, but very intensely. Then one, the eldest, ordered something in a low voice, and a young guy, tall and fair-haired, walked towards me. I stopped completely, looking at him. There was something about his gait and look that I didn’t like. A chill of fear appeared somewhere in my stomach. - Girl, can you tell me how to get to Senokosny? “Down the alley,” I waved my hand back. - And when you get on the highway, everything is straight along it. - Thank you. All this time he continued to approach, and suddenly suddenly jumped towards me, tightly grabbing my left forearm. - Ay! - I screamed. - Well, be quiet! - and a hard palm covered my mouth, extinguishing the cry. - Come with us! The guy released my hand and in two movements threw the backpack off my shoulders. He hit my heel painfully. This brought me out of my swooning stupor. I jerked to the side, but a strong hand grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to the soldier’s right side. Something hard and angular pressed into my left side. Hurt! And the rough paw tightly covered my mouth, so I could only mumble something inarticulate. The fear was so overwhelming that my knees were buckling, and if the military man had not held me, I probably would have collapsed onto the dusty path. Meanwhile, the guy walked quickly, dragging me along with him, to a narrow path overgrown with weeds, leading past an abandoned vegetable farming office building. The other four surrounded us, covering us from behind. And yet they noticed us: - Hey, where are you taking the girl? - a loud shout came from behind. The guy turned around sharply, forcing me to do the same. I squinted my eyes and saw an elderly man in a business suit walking quickly towards us. His face was familiar, but I didn’t remember where it came from. - XXX! - the eldest of the military swore obscenely and, throwing the machine gun from his shoulder, raised it and pulled the trigger. The sound of gunfire shook me, my ears itched. The burst knocked the man over, he twitched briefly on the ground and fell silent. - And now - legs! - the shooter barked. My captor unclenched the hand covering my mouth, took me in his arms, picking me up by the knees and, breathing heavily, walked down the path. I took a deep breath of air and screamed. The guy glared at me, but didn't say anything. Probably, after the automatic fire, my screams no longer bothered them. The path passed the house and, through an opening in the fence with the remains of a broken gate, led us to the site of a former greenhouse. The soldiers confidently ran to the vegetable warehouse building - squat, one-story, with a flat roof. It was also abandoned. There were rickety stacks of boxes along the walls, and the glass in the narrow, sparse windows was broken. One of the military men overtook the others and slammed his foot into the flimsy wooden door. Something crunched inside it, and it swung open inward. Into the twilight smelling of rot and mold. - Cat, Tarkan, Bily - to the windows, keep the perimeter! - the elder commanded. - Shvidky - come with me, let's look around. Beast, pack up the prisoner! The soldiers fled, and Zvir unclenched his hands, and I fell on the dirty floor. The blow even darkened his vision. My right hip hurt really, really bad. There will probably be some bruising! The soldier dropped his backpack from his shoulders and took out a coil of rope from his side pocket. I looked up at him in horror. And suddenly I was thrown: “Run!” I, first on all fours, straightening up with each step, rushed to the saving bright rectangle of the doorway. But strong fingers dug into the collar of the vest, grabbed a strand of hair, and pulled back. I squealed and fell onto my back. Something huge and heavy fell from above, crushing me, twisting my arms so that I was forced to roll over onto my stomach. The rope wrapped around the brushes. She hit her wrists painfully, squeezing them. Then the heavy guy sat astride me, facing my legs and tied my ankles just as tightly. He stood up, grabbed me by the armpits and dragged me into a dark corner. I threw it at him, remaining standing, towering over me like a tower. Fear twisted my insides again. It either grew stronger or weakened a little. But now it hit me so hard that I curled up into a ball, trembling all over. Tears kept flowing from my eyes, and everything inside was petrified with horror. And at the same time, I heard and understood everything. A burst of machine gun fire was heard from the far corner of the room. I shuddered all over. - Cat, what’s there? - the elder shouted. “Cops,” the gunman responded. - I scared. - It's clear. Well, we'll wait for more serious guests. “XXX-that the mission was failed,” Zvir grumbled. “That’s how to say it,” the commander responded. - Plan “A”, yes, they failed, they didn’t lay the mines. And they didn’t ambush the quilted jackets. But we are fully implementing the Be plan. - That is? - To divert attention to yourself and, by taking hostages, stall for time. Maybe it will be easier for other groups to act. “Axis means yak,” Shvidky drawled thoughtfully. - Do mi mean in rosehid? - Why is it expended? - the commander did not agree. - We have a protector. So we’ll make some noise, and then we’ll leave with her. “If there is somewhere to go,” Zvir said quietly, sitting down next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me. - Don’t be afraid, everything will work out. But for some reason this made me even more scared. I don't know how much time has passed. The soldiers talked quietly and joked. The beast still sat next to me, sometimes stroking my head. He even took out a paper handkerchief and wiped my face. The other soldiers laughed: “You’ve found a good job!” We are targeting enemies here, and you and the girl. - To each his own! - he joked. My hands and feet became very numb from the tight ropes. I couldn't feel my hands at all. Only wrist pain. But I was afraid to say about it or ask to untie it. Finally, the sound of engines and rumbling noises approaching was heard outside. - Commander, the cavalry has arrived! - called the Cat. - Two armored personnel carriers. - So it's time to talk. Beast, drag the girl to the door. The guy again grabbed me by the armpits and, hugging me to him, awkwardly leaning back, scurried towards the doorway. He raised it higher, covering himself like a shield, and stood opposite him. After the darkness of the vegetable warehouse, the light hit my eyes. I squinted, trying to see my surroundings. An armored vehicle visible from behind a brick fence. Green helmets of soldiers appearing from behind him for a moment and then hiding. - Hey, we have a hostage! - The commander of the saboteurs shouted loudly. - If anything happens, we will kill her! We also have a lot of explosives, if it explodes, there will be nothing left of the girl. So let's live peacefully! - What XXX is peaceful? - a distant voice responded. - Release the girl and go out one by one without weapons. Then we won't do XXX. - No! It's impossible! - switched to Ukrainian commander. - We’d rather sit here. - As you know! Just don’t touch the girl, otherwise we’ll cut off XXX and shut her up in XXX! “Take the little one away,” commander Zviryu quietly ordered. And he dragged me into the darkness. And again painful minutes or hours dragged on. Don't know. From time to time the saboteurs began to shoot. In short, tight bursts. But, it seems to me, it’s more likely that they won’t be forgotten. The military did not answer them. Then the militant commander ordered: “Shvidky, Zvir, replace Kot and Bily.” Cat with a girl. Shvidky left, and soon a short, plump man approached us. He extended his hand to Zvir, helping him to stand up, and he sat down next to me. He asked affably: “What’s your name?” “N-Nastya...” I answered. He was the first one who spoke to me. - How are you feeling? Do you want anything? “My arms... and legs... hurt a lot,” I squeezed out, unable to bear it any longer. - Let me see. He turned me to face the corner and fussed with my hands. I screamed in sharp pain. - Beast! - the Cat called loudly. - Don’t you know how to treat girls at all? - And what? - answered from the darkness. - Was it necessary to tighten the ropes like that? - and turning to me: - I’ll untie you now, just don’t do anything stupid, okay. What kind of nonsense is that?! The brushes, when I brought them to my face, hung like rags. And on the wrists there are blue-red stripes. Soon my hands began to come to life and I really regretted it. It was so painful that I couldn’t even scream, I just whined, curled up into a ball. And the Cat stroked my back. Then he bent down at my feet and untied me too. The commander grumbled something displeased, but my new guard answered: “Where will she run away?” She won’t even be able to get up for half an hour! And in about ten minutes I’ll tie her up again, but not so hard. When the pain subsided a little, he handed me a flask, and I awkwardly took it with my still naughty hands and greedily drank the cool water. - That’s great, come under my wing. He put his arm around my shoulders and stroked my head again, brushing the tangled strands of hair out of my face. He said: - And you are beautiful. Probably the boys are watching. For some reason I was embarrassed. And he pressed me tighter and ran his left hand over my chest. I shuddered. - ABOUT! There is already something! - the guy was happy. Well, yes, I was one of the first among my classmates whose figure began to emerge... in the right places. “Cat, stop pestering the girl,” an unfamiliar voice was heard. This is Bily, I realized. -Are you jealous? - She’s still small. - No, she’s quite a grown-up girl, isn’t she, Nastya? I cowered in panic. I didn't like where the conversation was going at all. - Let’s play with you, huh? I’m sure you’ll like it,” and his hand lay on my thigh. - No! No need! - I squealed, trying to wriggle out of the suddenly strong embrace. And the hand is already reaching somewhere... I almost broke free, but was grabbed by the hair at the back of my head. The cat, no longer pretending to be friendly, buried my face in my jacket, so that my scream died down, and now pawed me mercilessly. It was so unbearably disgusting, scary and painful that I turned into an animal struggling in agony. - No! No no no! Save! No need!!! Ay!!! - Let me go, you asshole! - Bily's roar. - What about those guys, are they also hunting? - with a contented sniffle. - So join us! Hold her legs! - Oh, Rick! My daughter is like this! A jerk, a fuss over me, sounds of blows. Shouts. I, pressing my knees to my chest, look up and down as two hefty men dressed in the same uniform fight. - Stop it! - the commander yells. A thunderous shot makes my whole body tremble. The cat sits down, holding his stomach. - Morons! - the commander’s voice is drowned in the roar that comes from all sides. I see stone fragments flying from the walls being broken through. Zvir falls like a discarded doll onto a pile of boards. Like the commander points the black hole of a machine gun barrel at me. And how Bily covers me with his body at the last moment. It falls on me in a twitching heap, covering me with something warm, sticky, and smelling unpleasantly. And then something flies into the doorway and a blinding light burns out the room. I close my eyes, but it’s too late. There is a bright green veil before my eyes. Mommies!!! The roar stops, but then comes again, very close, in short bursts. I don't know how long it lasts. I'm scared!!! Scary-scary-scary!!! Rough voice: - Here she is, in the corner. The heaviness from the body pressing down on me disappears. “She’s covered in blood, commander, but she seems to be alive.” Girl, how are you? I shake my head. Hands, rough, masculine. They're touching me again! - Noooooo!!! Let me in!!! I squirm and even bite at something. - Ay! Infection! She bites! “So she’s alive,” a tired voice. - Demichev, bring the doctor here. I open my eyes, but still I see nothing, only bright spots that move when I look. But they gradually fade, and I begin to distinguish figures wandering and rummaging through something. Piles of something incomprehensible. Suddenly it dawns on me that these are dead people. The ones that captured me. After some time, a white blurry spot appears nearby. A semi-familiar female face leans over me. It seems the doctor from the emergency room came to us a couple of months ago when dad had a heart problem. - Well, well, it's all gone. A soft hand strokes my cheek. And I’m all reaching out to meet her. -Aren't you hurt? Can you stand up? That's it, don't rush. I can barely stand on my trembling legs. I grab hold of the doctor and almost fall. - Let me carry it, - male voice next and again... - No! Do not touch! It's so scary when a man touches me! “No, I’m on my own,” the doctor picks me up in her arms and carries me out into the street. Everything around is filled with bright light. The doctor is breathing heavily. I'm already heavy. I fiddle and ask to be lowered. I stand up, still holding tightly to her robe. I look around. There are people in military uniform all around. They are fussing and in a hurry. Thunder. Distant and rolling. Somewhere in the north there is a strong, very strong thunderstorm. I look in that direction in disbelief. The sky is clear and blue from end to end. - What is this? - I ask the doctor. She sighs and says only one word: “War.”

Chapter2 . War!

14.05.2017. 11:50

The acting President of Ukraine, standing on the podium of the Verkhovna Rada, read out his decree. Ukraine is at war with Russia. Martial law is introduced in the country. The armed forces are beginning to repel aggression and return the occupied territories of Donbass and Crimea. And orders prepared in advance, in accordance with the plan for conducting a military campaign, flew to the troops concentrated on the southeastern borders. But this news spread even faster to the northeast. They were waiting for it and carefully preparing for it. And, as soon as the decree of the head of Ukraine was promulgated and came into effect, the Russian president issued a response. He expressed regret at the aggression of the neighboring state and said that the Russian armed forces are forced to defend themselves, protecting the country's citizens from an unprovoked attack. The almost unprovoked attack happened immediately. The Ukrainians opened fire on the tank battalion moving towards them, forcing it to hastily retreat. And another reason for a full response was the actions of sabotage and reconnaissance groups. Since the night, the border service of the Republic of Crimea has detected many border crossings, mainly by water. DRGs infiltrated into Crimea, trying to quickly get to key places. Roads, bridges, military airfields, command posts. Only a couple of them, having very unsuccessfully stumbled upon patrols, were destroyed outright. The rest were being watched for the time being. True, some, noticing this observation, became nervous. For example, a group walking past Razdolny to the Yevpatoriya highway in order to mine it and set up an ambush, realizing that it had been discovered, entered the village, took a hostage and took refuge on the outskirts. They surrounded her, but they didn’t try to touch her until half past eleven. And then the order came to destroy the enemy’s DRG on the spot, trying to avoid casualties among civilians as much as possible. Captain Marchenko, who commanded the operation, winced at this “if possible.” But when a muffled shot was heard from the old warehouse, he ordered an assault on the facility. I feel sorry for the girl, but an order is an order. Almost all of the sabotage groups were destroyed that same day, having failed to complete their tasks, but several units managed to bite the enemy quite painfully. And the Ukrainian special services carried out one operation with a plus. The militants, introduced in advance, were able to elude the watchful eye of the FSB, and carried out a daring attack on the headquarters of the Black Sea Fleet. They crushed the guards and almost completely destroyed the fleet command along with the building. But there was no power vacuum. The chief of staff of the fleet, the young rear admiral Gennady Serpukhov, was at that time in the reserve command post. Now no one can stop him, and the plans he carefully worked out will come to life. Meanwhile, Russia responded to the blow. For some reason, a pair of Dnepr "Dnepr" ships turned out to be ready for launch, doubling the already large group of military reconnaissance satellites. Of course, they still needed to be integrated into the system. But she, the system, has already done a good job, collecting almost exhaustive information about the location of military installations of the opposing side. And missile weapons were used against these predetermined targets. The Iskanders rushed along unpredictably broken trajectories, and the Calibers, X-22s and X-55s flew low, just above the ground. Their main task was to destroy the air defense structure of Ukraine. And within just a couple of hours, she almost ceased to exist. And only after that the aerospace forces came into action.

Chapter3 . Fighter.

14.05.2017. 15:10

The fighters flew in a wide pair. The leader is eight hundred meters to the left and slightly ahead. Lieutenant Igor Myskin flew the plane with extreme care. This was his first combat mission. The young pilot graduated from Armavir only a year ago military school . The fact that he is now flying in the skies over Ukraine could be considered rare luck, or bad luck, if it were not the result of cold calculation. Demonstration group. It's like fishing with live bait. The pair of Su-27s seemed to lure out the remnants of the enemy’s air defense that had survived a crushing missile strike. Surely some mobile Buks were able to avoid it, the S-300 may not have been completely destroyed, and not all the planes burned out at the airfields. That is why planes are now flying on “reconnaissance” flights with crews that are not very valuable due to their lack of flying experience. “Although, this is not entirely true,” Igor rebuked himself. The flight commander, Major Komov, is a very experienced pilot who has flown in the skies of Syria for a whole year. So it is quite possible that he, Igor, was assigned to this flight not for slaughter, but for accelerated training. Moreover, he graduated from college with honors and had already managed to show himself well in the regiment. And ahead, twenty kilometers ahead, is the Dnieper. It flows in a wide flood from the Kakhovka Reservoir. Beautiful and disturbing. “Badsuk-1,” “Badsuk-1,” the dispatcher’s voice is deliberately calm. - Three goals. Azimuth two hundred eighty three, distance two hundred eight. Presumably MiG-29. Stay the same course. At a distance of one hundred and ten, prepare to maneuver. From eighty, launch "twenty-sevenths" and leave at azimuth one hundred and forty. How did you understand? - “Badger-1”, “Bear cub”. “I understand,” was the same emphatically calm response from the commander. - Let's start twenty-sevenths from eighty and leave at one hundred and forty. "Badger-2", do you understand the task? “Badsuk-2,” “Badsuk-1,” responded Igor. - I understand you. I continue the flight without changes. Getting ready for the maneuver. "Badger two second", confirm the readiness of the missiles. “Badsuk two second,” “Badsuk 2,” responded the co-pilot, sitting a meter behind Igor. - All four missiles are ready. The usual negotiations, but the heart is beating loudly. First fight. Although, eighty kilometers. The enemy can escape, but for Igor the maneuver is almost not dangerous at all. But, you never know... How time creeps! The plane moves only slightly slower than sound, and the landscape below it barely moves. The Dnieper goes back, Krivoy Rog floats by on the right. - "Badger-1"! Targets are one hundred and forty kilometers away. Azimuth two hundred ninety eight. They turn towards you. Get ready to maneuver! - in a tongue twister, without the obligatory “as I understand.” - Clear! - the commander also shortened the usual addresses. - Second, get ready! About twenty seconds later, three distinct dots appeared on the edge of the radar screen. They were clearly heading in the opposite direction, slightly faster than the speed of sound, gradually accelerating. - Here they are, my dears! - There is tension and excitement in the commander’s voice. - Second, we're pushing it to seventy. - Accepted. Igor caught his breath. It was not for nothing that he received a red diploma. In addition to the fact that he was an excellent pilot and knew the technique by heart, he also knew how to do math in his head. Seventy is a risky minimum. If he hesitates or performs the maneuver incorrectly, he will not escape enemy missiles. “It’s good that the Ukrainians have old R-27s. But the missile usually flies a little further than the stated sixty kilometers. And he still has to turn around. It’s not for nothing that the controller gave instructions to shoot ten kilometers earlier. But in battle, the pilot himself decides, and the commander chose to go at risk. Meanwhile, Major Komov gives instructions in a calm voice: “Don’t tear up on the turn. Three, at most four, you’ll switch to afterburner, and everything will be fine,” and, turning to Igor’s co-pilot: “Vanya, that’s up to you.” traps.” “Naturally,” responded Captain Selivanov, the co-pilot, weapons operator and observer. “Get ready,” the commander’s voice rings with tension. “Let’s go!” Igor immediately ordered the second one. Selivanov did not hesitate for a second, fired all four missiles one after another. When the third of them fell off the suspension, Igor moved the steering wheel gently, smoothly, forcing himself not to rush too much. The overload fell slowly, but firmly, pressing in. chair, gasping for breath. Igor turned the steering wheel until he noticed a grayish veil creeping from the edges of his vision. He tolerated G forces very well, so he allowed his plane to turn a little steeper than the pilot of the pair recommended. And the world behind the fiberglass of the lantern tilted and floated to the side. A foggy strip of sea appeared in the distance. A deadly game is unfolding on the radar screen. The MiGs fired back ten to fifteen seconds later, and immediately made sharp turns. "Hard!" - Igor thought, estimating that the two opponents took a turn with seven or even eight times the overload. And it looks like one of them overdid it. The plane did not come out of the turn - the pilot lost consciousness. The second plane began to maneuver, trying to shake off the missiles. And the third, turning on the afterburner, hurried to leave the affected area. In addition, the space around both Ukrainian and Russian aircraft was covered with ripples of interference and traps. But they are unlikely to help the enemy much. The active-passive homing head with Kalman filtering on new Russian missiles is a terrible thing. And the enemy missiles have already covered half the distance separating them. If only they didn't fly further than usual! Taking the plane out of the turn, Igor, at the same time, added thrust and, breaking the sound barrier, turned on the afterburner. The enemy missiles were catching up with the “dry” missiles, but still not fast enough, and when they, one after another, having spent fuel, pecked down, not reaching literally five kilometers, Igor allowed himself to breathe deeply. But the Ukrainians were not lucky. The pilot of the first fighter managed to wake up a few seconds before three missiles tore his plane to shreds at once. The second, laying down one anti-missile maneuver after another, managed to shake off two of them, but the third exploded above the planes, riddling them with fragments and perforating the canopy along with the pilot’s body. And the third one almost ran away. He was in afterburner, trying to get out of the missile range. And he would have left if it had been an ordinary “twenty-seventh” like his. But in fact, the command became generous and modified R-27ERs with increased range were installed on the suspensions of the "sushki". So two missiles, almost at the limit of range, caught up with the MiG and exploded behind the nozzles. - “Badger-1”, “Bear cub”. The task is completed. All three targets have been destroyed, I am asking for further instructions,” the commander’s slightly tired voice was heard. - “Bear Cub”, “Badger-1”, - an unfamiliar voice in the headphones. - We told you to shoot from eighty kilometers. Why did they violate our instructions? “It was safer that way,” the commander responded. - You're always like that! What should we do with six P-37s now? Could it be retargeted at you? “Oops,” the commander said in a completely unmilitary way. - Okay, don't be afraid, you're out of focus. I wish I could make you pay for the rockets! All. End of communication - a second's pause and the familiar voice of the dispatcher: - "Badgers", return to base. - "Badger-2", did you hear? - asked the commander. - We are still to blame. “Yeah,” Igor answered, not according to the regulations. Who knew that the headquarters decided to play it safe and fired long-range missiles at the MiGs. “But we’ll draw three stars for ourselves,” the commander remarked cheerfully. - True, yellow ones, it’s not clear whose rocket hit whom. Igor smiled. The commander, of course, suspects that the second Mig was shot down by his missile, but does not want to offend his partner. And three stars is cool!

Chapter 4. Sea Gambit.

15:20. Black Sea. The destroyer Higgins turned off its engines. He reached the planned point fifty kilometers southeast of Odessa. This was the optimal placement for his mission. Now we just had to wait for the stupid Russian plane. And he did not hesitate to arrive. The Su-24 naval aviation of the Black Sea Fleet habitually approached the alien ship. Overflights of Americans have long become commonplace, as they were during the Soviet Union. The degree of their riskiness depended on the orders given by the command and the daring of the pilots. This time the task was “not to provoke,” and the pilot was experienced and calm. But when the “drying” flew up ten kilometers, the radar recorded the launch of four missiles, which Major Snegirev had already seen. Ten seconds later, the plane disintegrated into flaming pieces. 15:24. Washington. Before the wreckage of the Russian plane had time to sink to the bottom of the Black Sea, the President of the United States of America, Hillary Clinton, began her speech. ...Unprovoked aggression forced us to defend ourselves. A Russian plane that threatened our sailors has been shot down... ...to ensure safety, we are declaring a 65-mile radius around the destroyer Higgins a no-fly zone. Any flying object that we deem a threat will be destroyed... ...to de-escalate the conflict, we demand that the entire territory of Ukraine be declared a no-fly zone. We count on other NATO members to support us in this... The circle, 65 miles in diameter in the southeast, touched the coast of Crimea, and in the northeast reached Kherson and Nikolaev, covering a significant part of Ukraine with a saving umbrella. 15:43. Nikolaev. From under this umbrella, two Su-24s and three Su-25s took off from the airfield in Kulbakino. All vehicles that survived the Caliber strike on the air base. The planes, at extremely low altitude, first headed south, and when the Black Sea opened up beneath them, they turned east, heading for Sevastopol. 15:47. Moscow. From the speech of the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Russia. - ...It is necessary to prevent an escalation of tension between Russia and NATO countries, primarily the United States. At the same time, we consider the introduction of a no-fly zone unacceptable. The conflict with Ukraine, which occurred through the fault of the Kyiv authorities, is bilateral, and the participation of any third countries in it is unacceptable... The minister pressed the earphone to his ear, listening. - As I was just informed, our radars detected a group of Ukrainian Air Force aircraft heading towards Crimea. Curiously, the Americans did not consider them threatening and did not try to shoot them down. The question arises, what kind of no-fly zone is this? Only for us is it flightless?.. The minister spoke on this topic for another two minutes, until a new message made him perk up. He closed his eyes and clearly clenched his fists to pull himself together. In an emphatically calm voice, in which incredible tension was felt, he said: “I am forced to interrupt the press conference due to new information coming to us.” He stood up abruptly and quickly walked out of the hall. 15:49. Tarankutsky Peninsula, Republic of Crimea. Four launchers fired almost simultaneously. Eight "Yakhonts" rushed into the sky in order to, having made a smooth "slide", descend almost to the very water surface and head to the northwest. The order given by Rear Admiral Gennady Serpukhov was carried out. 15:52. Black Sea. The Aegis system tried its best. She even managed to intercept three missiles. But the remaining five were enough to turn the formidable destroyer into a pile of twisted metal, slowly sinking to the bottom. Of the 337 crew members, none survived. 15:55. The sky over Crimea. Of course, Ukrainian planes were not allowed to approach Sevastopol. The S-300 fired back, and the two surviving “dry” aircraft were finished off by the MiGs that flew in to intercept. But the pilots fought to the last, and managed to release four Gadflies. Three missiles were shot down by coastal and naval air defense systems. So only one reached the target. An orange-black explosion cloud enveloped the bow of the patrol ship Ladny. One rocket was not enough to sink her, but the damage was very serious. 16:14. Washington. Hillary Clinton had to return to the hall, which she left a little less than half an hour ago. The president's hands were shaking noticeably. It was clear that she could barely contain herself. The elderly woman felt as if the restive stallion she had decided to ride had suddenly bitten the bit and took off. Yes, such a development of events was also considered, although it was not considered the most likely. The Russians have upped the ante. Well, you'll have to do the same. There is no other way. It is impossible not to respond to the destruction of an American ship! Moreover, you can play on this field without much fear. The United States fleet is so much more powerful than the Russian one that it can afford any action. Except for a full scale nuclear war. Fear of her squeezed the heart of the forty-fifth President of the United States and forced him to hesitate in delivering his prepared speech. She felt that she was walking on the edge of an abyss, and now she would take another step towards it. -...We will not leave this monstrous crime unanswered! - were her final words. 16:20. Phone conversation. - What are you doing?! - The Minister of Defense’s voice is heavy. Rear Admiral Serpukhov involuntarily pulled himself up, although his interlocutor could not see him. The young forty-year-old fleet commander had great respect for his chief commander and therefore answered without ingratiation or panache: “I responded to the blow, Comrade General of the Army.” They shot down my plane, killed the pilot who served in my fleet. “Yours...” the minister grumbled. - Haven't you gotten comfortable in the commander's chair too quickly? Honestly, Gennady, at another time I would have already removed you from your position. You take advantage of the fact that there is no one to replace you yet. “I use it, Comrade General of the Army,” Serpukhov answered calmly. - If we give up now, they will tie us down. The Americans will put pressure until they understand that they will suffer really serious losses. And they do it themselves, and not the NATO countries they set up. - Yes? - the Minister of Defense asked sarcastically. And he raised his voice: “Do you understand that they will simply be forced to hit even harder than we did?” Do you have any idea what or who could be their target? “No, I can’t imagine,” Serpukhov said quietly. He lied to his commander. In fact, he was almost certain of the sacrifice that would have to be paid. As well as in the fact that, at any cost, even at the cost of his career or even his life, he will bring his plan to the end. - Okay, I don’t have time to talk to you. From now on, be more careful and don’t forget to ask for sanctions for such tricks. Rear Admiral Serpukhov hung up. He sat for a minute, looking straight ahead, and picked up the receiver of another phone: - Pass the code “Desna.” 17:05. Aegean Sea near the island of Milos. The large anti-submarine ship "Kerch" patrolled the southwestern part of the Aegean Sea. An area clear of small islands between the Peloponnese and Crete. On the one hand, the ship performed its main function - it monitored whether an alien submarine would get closer to the Russian shores. And, on the other hand, at the limit of his capabilities, he watched the core of the US sixth fleet, located a little over a hundred kilometers away - the aircraft carrier Dwight Eisenhower and the ships protecting it. The main problem of the Russian fleet was vision. Long-range anti-ship missiles became useless if you didn’t know where exactly to launch them. Probably for this reason, one day the long-suffering warship, which was almost scrapped, was nevertheless revived and put back into operation. Still, he had very powerful, albeit outdated, radar stations, and could at least determine the coordinates of the American fleet. Now, “Kerch” listened to it with all its electronic ears, and even lifted a deck helicopter into the air. And when the enemy ships began to fire multiple missile launches, it took less than a minute to realize that the killer missiles' trajectories were aimed at him. The United States decided on a victim who was destined to repay the death of one of the many destroyers - the second largest ship of the Black Sea Fleet was best suited for this role. It’s scary to attack the “Moscow”, and sinking some patrol boat is undignified. The blow was delivered spectacularly, and extremely ineffectively. A dozen Tomahawks and two dozen Harpoons would sink an entire squadron, not like an old ship with ancient anti-aircraft systems. Although the sailors managed to shoot down four missiles. From the last dying reckless excitement. Then, in the place where the warship had previously sailed, a huge cloud of fire swelled up. And when the smoke and flame settled on the surface, only some scraps remained. 17:22. Moscow. From the statement of the President of the Russian Federation: ... It is necessary to stop and understand that there is no further way. The escalation of the conflict could push the world to destruction... ... The responsibility that is entrusted to us... ... If we continue to respond blow to blow... ... We sympathize with the families of the fallen American sailors and mourn with families of the dead Russian... 17:26. Washington. This time the Minister of the Navy spoke. They decided to give the old president a break. She’s already all on edge and feels very lousy; it wasn’t enough to be without the head of the White House during a crisis. The minister briefly spoke about the retaliatory strike and stated that any provocative or simply suspicious actions of the Russian fleet and aviation would be immediately punished. He resembled a heavily armed Marine threatening to shoot a preschooler who was swinging a teddy bear at him with rapid fire. Of course, all military theorists know that in its current state Russian fleet not able to cause serious damage to any of the American aircraft carrier groups. Unless all three Western Russian fleets unite into one fist, then yes, they will be able to resist one of the six US fleets. Everyone knows this! 17:39. Mediterranean Sea. They didn't come up. There was no need for this. "Calibers" are launched perfectly from an underwater position. The submarine "Krasnodar" was closest to the enemy ships. It would seem that she should have fired the missiles last so that they would reach the enemy at the same time as the others. But the warheads of its missiles contained a completely different, unexpected filling. A minute after it, according to the “Desna” plan developed at fleet headquarters under the personal leadership of Gennady Serpukhov, three other submarines in range also fired. With a small, carefully calculated time difference, they launched all their new “Caliber” missile frigates one after another. And, finally, she sent Vulcan and Moskva missiles towards the enemy fleet. The combined salvo was powerful, but, according to all theoretical calculations, completely insufficient to penetrate the combined missile defense of four destroyers equipped with the Aegis system, and even the aircraft carrier itself. 18:01. Mediterranean Sea. 120 kilometers south of the Peloponnese. The security aircraft reported that it had spotted four low-flying targets. Soon the radar of the destroyer Trunstun detected four cruise missiles. By this time, the alarm had already been raised on all ships in the fleet, and the anti-aircraft systems operators were ready to meet. The missiles flew ten meters above the water, at a marching speed of three hundred meters per second. Strange, but they did not accelerate three times on the final segment of the trajectory. Instead, the missiles began to maneuver, moving away from the first Sparrows he launched to intercept. Very efficient when leaving. The anti-missiles seemed to stop seeing the target and, having lost interest in it, were carried away into the sea by inertia. And the strange “Calibers” chose a destroyer for themselves and began to circle around them. It was a shock. The vaunted Aegis systems, which control all air and missile defenses, began to malfunction. There is no other way to call it. Interference and phantom targets appeared on the radars, and chaotic commands were sent to the launchers. Several missiles took off and flew to God knows where. The multi-barreled artillery mounts rotated and fired from time to time, with one burst of twenty-millimeter bullets piercing right through the conning tower, killing three sailors. And at this time, helicopters and loitering aircraft hovering in the distance were broadcasting in panic about new approaching missiles. Lieutenant Commander Steve Dunkins, ducking and risking being hit by a stray burst, made his way to the turret and turned off the automation. The mechanism, having finally howled with its servomotors, froze, pointing its muzzle to the sky. Steve grabbed the handles and began pouring fire on an enemy cruise missile quickly rushing at a distance of a kilometer. Of course, the bullets ended up in milk. But luck decided to take pity on the brave sailor. Or maybe make fun of him. A stray bullet pierced the rocket, it swerved to the side, and, raising a cloud of spray, fell into the water. The Aegis system began to come to life. The radars cleared of interference and showed... It would probably be better if that damned missile continued to jam the signals. About two dozen cruise missiles were approaching the fleet, followed by a second wave of eight larger marks. Under other circumstances, it would have been a mosquito bite. Well, okay, not mosquito, but dog - a couple of missiles could miraculously break through the barrier. Still, Russian anti-ship missiles are difficult to shoot down. But now there was only one destroyer in service, and enemy missiles had less than a minute to fly. They did what they could, launching as many Standard-2s as they could on the second wave. Forced to ignore the five "calibers" that were heading straight towards their ship. The Russian missiles reached their targets and, in the place of the four destroyers and the headquarters ship Mount Whitney, red and black clouds of explosions swelled, overlapping each other, scattering burning debris far away. Three destroyers and a flagship sank to the bottom of the deepest depression Mediterranean Sea . One, oddly enough, the same "Trunstun", remained afloat, mangled and beyond repair. Lieutenant Commander Steve Dunkins was thrown far out to sea by the blast wave, and he, half-stunned, watched his home ship burn. And then the roar of new explosions covered him. The heroic anti-aircraft gunners of "Trunstun" managed to shoot down two "Vulcans". They were able to lay down another one from the Dwight Eisenhower. So only five missiles reached the aircraft carrier. Only five five-hundred-kilogram warheads, designed specifically for the destruction of large ships, crashed into the giant ship. One swept away the deck superstructures, two distorted the flight deck, punching huge ragged holes in it. And two more dived and exploded just above the starboard waterline. Water poured into the huge holes, the ship, blazing with fires, began to tilt. But it was indescribably tenacious, and the crew, along with the pilots and technicians, desperately fought for their ship and their own lives. With incredible efforts, the ship was able to be defended against the water element and, crooked and still smoldering with fire, was slowly and carefully towed to the nearest base. But that was later. And now a message came over an open radio communication channel in good English, but with a rough accent: “Missiles with nuclear warheads are loaded into the launchers. In case of aggressive actions on your part, we will strike.” The captain of the guided missile cruiser Anzio clenched his fists furiously. He really wanted to give the order for a return salvo. Of course, from such a distance the Russians can only be reached with "tomahawks", and it is unlikely that it will be possible to create a sufficient salvo to pass through the vaunted Russian "Fort", but he would try. But nuclear warheads meant the beginning of a nuclear war. If the Russians use them, the world will go down. But the junior rear admiral wanted to live. He also thought that if the Russians had immediately fired thermonuclear missiles at the fleet, five warheads each twenty times more powerful than the one that destroyed Hiroshima would have burned out the entire fleet. They can do this now. Just like with any other American fleet, which only half an hour ago seemed invincible. And all because of those four missiles with their devilish filling. 18:27. Phone conversation. - Do you even understand what you’ve done?! - the usually calm Minister of Defense shouts into the phone. Rear Admiral Serpukhov even moved it away from his ear. - We are two steps away from nuclear war! “So we need to take one more step,” the fleet commander calmly answered. - I have already informed the Americans that the launchers contain missiles with special ammunition. “I heard your message,” the minister suddenly calmed down and answered tiredly. - Do you think they'll be scared? - This is not the case. You need to frighten them so that they freeze in horror and are afraid to move. - We are just discussing this... at the very top. And... I'll give you your opinion. All. And don't worry anymore! You've already done enough for ten tribunals. 18:48. Washington. Hillary Clinton was pale as a mummy. All the carefully retouched wrinkles were clearly visible. She gripped the edge of the podium tightly with her fingers and read the speech. ...A terrible challenge... ...Not since the battles in the Pacific have we suffered such losses... ...We need to unite more than ever... ...We will unite the whole world in the fight against a terrible enemy - Russia. .. ...Our answer will be... Suddenly she froze mid-sentence and took out a small phone, only similar in appearance to a cell phone. She stared at it with fear and slowly brought it to her ear. And she stood listening for a long, long minute. Tens of millions of viewers were filled with fear. Many had already become unstuck from the TV and were rushing around their houses, trying to collect the necessary things, or even, whatever they were wearing, got into cars and at maximum speed, not paying attention to traffic rules, tried to drive away from cities, to places where there might not be radiation and a shock wave will reach you. And the president staggered, tried to grab the podium and fell to the floor as if knocked down. The employees who rushed to her aid fussed over the old woman who had fainted. It was like a trigger. Now the majority of residents of the United States, and other countries that are members of NATO, are gripped by panic. And from the television screens, after a half-minute pause, the face of the Russian president looked at the people rushing about in horror. He read out the ultimatum. "...Russia's strategic nuclear forces have been brought to a state of full combat readiness..." The hatches from the missile silos were moving. Glasses with “Topols” and “Yars” were raised to the starting state. Strategic bombers took off into the sky and submarines entered designated areas. "...At the slightest manifestation of aggression from the United States, NATO, South Korea and Japan, we will take preventive action nuclear attack for all listed countries. Exactly as I said: if any of these countries attack military or civilian targets of the Russian Federation, we will strike all countries that are members of the NATO bloc, Japan, and South Korea, as well as any other states where there are US military bases ..." People in Hungary, France, Japan looked at their TV screens with fear. What are they for? They didn’t do anything bad to Russia? They just wanted to be protected by the greatest country of our time! And for this they received nuclear bombs?! And if some Estonian tanker, crazy with Russophobia, shoots towards the Russian border? And because of such an idiot, Berlin, Seoul and Sofia will burn?! Never before has he been so close to death. who managed to be brought to her senses, holding her heart, whispered: “You need to stop this. Don’t provoke the Russians under any circumstances. They, fucking psychos, will really destroy everything!” no one cared about Ukraine, which rushed with its fists at the hefty Russian bear, counting on being supported by its overseas hosts, and now it was raking it to the fullest. “Serves her right! If it weren’t for these idiots, thousands of American sailors would not have died, and the greatest country in the world would not have received such a painful kick.” So far, politicians have not yet realized how painful this kick will be, and how it will redraw the map of the world in the near future.

Chapter 5. Social studies lesson.

Wow! Demonstration! - Kagatsuki Shiro stood up from his desk and stuck to the window glass. Hana Hayakawa craned her neck to look outside. From her third row, it was difficult to see what was happening outside the window. In general, Kagatsuki either had remarkable eyesight, or simply caught crows by looking out the window, instead of listening to the teacher. Otherwise, it would be difficult to notice people walking along the road fifty meters from the school, and even behind the trees of the school park. For some reason, Kamimura-sensei did not call for order, and, seeing this, almost the entire fifth grade primary school Nishida tried to see people with homemade placards and banners walking past the gates of Shokei High School. The teacher looked at his watch, became thoughtful and only then spoke. As always, it was quiet, so that the hubbub that had begun quickly died down, and the students sat down, listening to the teacher. - In half an hour, a rally will begin in the vacant lot behind the metro workshops. Let's go see it. The children cheered. Only Hirayama Yuki, an excellent student and a bore, asked in a harmful voice: “Kamimura-sensei, what about the lesson?” “This will be a social studies lesson,” the teacher answered seriously. - What is happening now will change our country. I think you will tell your children and grandchildren about this. You have a lot of activities in your life, but here are the opportunities to participate in historical events , hardly. So get ready and head out. Not a step away from me, and behave in a disciplined manner. And don't make any noise in the corridor! Let's leave secretly. The boys almost howled with delight. And Hana felt happy and anxious at the same time. They quietly, huddled together, went down to the first floor, changed into street shoes, without even jostling too much at the lockers, and filed out into the courtyard. There they lined up decorously and approached the gate in an orderly manner. The duty officer looked questioningly at Kamiaura-sensei. “On an excursion,” the teacher said briefly, and the children went out into the street. “Kamimura-sensei,” Kirigaya Tanaka, walking next to him, asked quietly, “won’t you be scolded for this?” “I don’t think so,” the teacher answered calmly. - Director Sakamoto-sama supports the communists. Maybe he will even be at the rally. So it's okay. It was summer-hot outside. Especially in a uniform jacket. Hana thought it was stupid to break the rules like that and force herself to fry in uniform. She angrily tugged at the buttons, unbuttoning her jacket. She opened it defiantly. Her classmates looked at her, but no one, except that bully Kagatsuki, followed suit. And the teacher gave Hayakawa a disapproving look, but said nothing. Hana perked up. It was not unpleasant for her to go against everyone, but it was offensive to do it together with Kagatsuki. Meanwhile, the procession of fifth-graders walked through the narrow streets and came out to the bridge over the Zenpukuji River, which wound its way, squeezed into a narrow concrete channel. There were more and more people on the streets. They all walked east towards two vast vacant lots and a children's playground separating them, on which a makeshift stand had been erected. Suginami is a typical one-story district in Tokyo. The buildings are very dense, and finding an area for a rally is very difficult. Even now, everyone could not fit into the vacant lot, and the schoolchildren had to stay on the adjacent street. Fortunately, the house near which they huddled was surrounded by a high, half-meter-high terraced lawn. The guys climbed onto its concrete edge, trying not to trample the grass, and now they could at least see something beyond the sea of ​​heads above which banners fluttered. True, there was nothing special to look at. Well, some people speak, and okay. The loudspeakers carried fragments of phrases: ...Let's take back our country!.. ...true neutrality! Good relations with all neighbors, including Russia, China and even North Korea!... ...not on orders from overseas!.. ...They covered us like a bandit with a hostage!.. . ..We don’t want to die for the Americans! Down with the occupation forces!.. ...For seventy years we have been treated like a conquered country!... ...No foreign nuclear weapons!.. ...Japan is a great power and must decide for itself how to live, not dance to the tune!.. Hana heard it all at home. My father has hardly been working for two months now. At their company, as elsewhere in the country, there is strike after strike. So he either sits at home and discusses politics with his mother and friends, or goes to such rallies. First, the people sought the resignation of the government, then early elections. Now the communists, social democrats, the Rising Sun Party and several other tiny parties have united into the Japanese National Front and are trying to get a majority of votes in parliament. The girl herself was not interested in what was happening. Yes, we need to drive out the Americans and close all their bases. Return to tradition. Probably we should... But these are the affairs of adults. She was much more worried about whether dad would buy the promised computer. And Hana doesn’t even have a Sonya! How can you live like this?!

Chapter 6. New friend.

Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.

Kieran saw him near the trash cans. And he froze with surprise and joy. Probably, the previous owners decided that the computer might be useful to someone, so they did not stuff it into a stinking container, but placed it nearby. A light gray system unit and a shabby, huge monitor that looked like an old TV. Kieran looked around to see if anyone would be tempted by this treasure. He came up, squatted down in front of him, and touched the tin box that stood upright. He pressed the softly pressing buttons of the black, dusty keyboard lying on top of the system unit. "What to do?!" Kieran understood that he would not be able to steal both the system unit and the monitor at once. He was a strong boy, but still only nine years old. I wanted to take the monitor first, otherwise someone would kick it and break it, but Kieran knew that the main thing in a computer was this very box. The boy barely lifted the heavy monitor and pushed it behind the outer trash can. And then he grabbed the system manager. It wasn't too heavy, but it was very inconvenient to carry. The sharp edges dug into my fingers, which kept trying to slip, and the keyboard slid in one direction or the other. But the boy, without stopping even once, carried his priceless trophy home. He kicked open the door and placed him on the floor of the kitchenette. And he ran headlong back. He was terribly afraid that he would not find his treasure, that someone would take it away or destroy it. But everything was fine. The monitor sparkled invitingly with its slightly convex glass from behind the stinking tank. Kieran carried it carefully, stopping and resting a couple of times. Entering the house, he found his mother thoughtfully looking at the prey, and his younger sisters - Vadya and Jyoti, who looked out from behind their mother's sari like curious animals. - Well, what kind of rubbish did you bring? - Mom asked sternly. - Computer! - Kieran said proudly. - I hope you didn't steal it? - Mrs. Chaudhary asked for order, although she had no doubt that her son was not capable of such a thing. - Of course not! - he answered indignantly. - He was standing near the trash can! - So we're going through trash cans? I think my father will be very happy about this. He dreamed that you would become a master, not a scavenger. - Near the trash can! - Kieran repeated indignantly. - Eh... Okay, let it stand. But it's probably broken, otherwise they wouldn't have thrown it away. And don’t even think about turning it on yourself! Wait for dad. In the evening, as soon as his father came home from work, Kiran began to revolve around him. Vikarm Chaudhary shushed him and looked questioningly at his wife. They talked about something, and the father looked into the nursery. The tiny room was cramped. Vadya and Jyoti played while sitting on the lower bunk of the bunk bed on which they slept together. And Kieran sat on a rickety chair in front of the table, which was surprisingly free of textbooks, books and toys that were always lying on it. A computer stood proudly in the middle of the table. - Well, what did you bring? - the father asked tiredly and doomedly. The son looked at him silently, pleadingly and devotedly. - Okay, now we’ll figure it out while mom cooks dinner. Vikram left and soon returned with screwdrivers and a tester - a large dark gray one, with a spinner dotted with letters and icons, an LCD screen and long cords - black and red. Kieran, as always, looked at the device with admiration and lust. He was forbidden to touch it, but he wanted it so bad! The father unfolded the system unit and quickly unscrewed it. He started poking somewhere with probes. The tester beeped from time to time. “There is no short one,” Vikram said incomprehensibly. - Well, shall we try to turn it on? He carefully inserted the plug into the socket. Something beeped inside the computer. And nothing more. - Well, let's see... Father began to stick the copper tips of the probes into the large plastic connector. - Yeah! The power supply is dead. The reference voltage does not show... My father's words were like magic spells. Kieran, with his mouth slightly open, watched as if it were a sacred rite as his father continued to disassemble the computer. The power supply inside is overgrown with a thick layer of dust. - Get the vacuum cleaner! - Vikram commanded. The boy rushed out of the room like an arrow, pulled a vacuum cleaner out of the closet, dragged it, and plugged it into the outlet in the hallway. The rumbling machine quickly sucked up the dust. Her father helped her swallow the dirt, brushing it away with a brush. And then he laid out the opened block in front of him and began to carefully examine it. - Hold the tester in front of me. Kiran, not believing in such happiness, carefully and carefully took the device in his hands and raised it so that it was more convenient for his father to see the screen. Mom barely managed to get them in for dinner. Which the men swallowed silently and extremely quickly, and then again rushed to the nursery. They probably spent three hours poring over the computer. Vikram thought that he had not spent so much time with his son or done such an interesting activity for a very, very long time. That is, the activity was ordinary - he constantly dealt with all sorts of electronics at work, but it was very pleasant to tinker with this together with his son. “Maybe he will really follow in my footsteps?” thought the father. “We just need to give him a good education.” Otherwise, it will be just as difficult for Kieran as it once was for me.” At night, lying in bed, mom and dad talked for a long time and decided that it was time to save money for the boy’s future studies. Of course, it was not possible to repair the computer in one evening. But Vikram identified the damaged parts and on Sunday morning he and his son went to the “radio flea market.” Numerous traders had laid out pieces of oilcloth and fabric in boxes with many compartments, and there were rows of green circuit boards lying around. various devices, coils of cables and other mysterious things. The father, checking the list, bought three tiny, three-legged octopus-like transistors and a dozen small barrels of electrolytic capacitors, Kiran tried to remember the names of the parts and asked his father what Vikram needed them for. It’s not easy explaining this to his little son, but in general terms he managed. At home they sat down again to work on computer giblets. Rosin stank the whole room and my mother, wrinkling her nose with displeasure, took her sisters for a walk in the courtyard. The men finished their business in the evening. The father carefully pressed the button, and the computer hummed, something inside it quietly clicked, and the Windows 98 screensaver appeared on the monitor. Kiran looked at his father with delight and Vikram felt as proud as if he had accomplished an epic feat.

Chapter 7. Outcast.

PGT Razdolnoe, Republic of Crimea.

The war has long rolled back to the north. For two months there was continuous thunder and thumping from the direction of Krasnoperekopsk. Airplanes were flying overhead, and columns of equipment were moving along the Yevpatoria Highway to the north, and trailers with wrecked tanks and combat vehicles were moving to the south. Then, the Ukrainian army, trapped in the Perekop cauldron, surrendered, and everything calmed down. But this didn’t make it any easier for us. Because Andrei died in early June. I remember taking this letter out of my mailbox. For some reason I immediately felt uneasy. Mom opened it, read it, and fell on the sofa as if she had been knocked down. She shrank and sobbed. I immediately understood everything. She sat down next to her, buried her head in her shuddering shoulder and roared. So we cried together. In the evening my father came. Cheerful and a little drunk. He was saying something in the hallway until his mother shocked him with the news. The father literally darkened his face. I never saw my brother. He was brought in a closed metal coffin and buried on the same day. Maybe it's good. I remembered him alive. And what was left of him must have been very terrible. His commander wrote that an artillery shell exploded near Andrei. I did read the letter later. It was handwritten, with clumsy handwriting, but I thought it was better than if it had been typed. After that it became somehow empty and very, very sad. My father was a heavy drinker. He often touched the bottle before, but now he almost never leaves it. Mom was at first understanding of this, but time passed and nothing changed. It’s good that he’s not violent here. He just becomes chatty and quickly goes to bed. But it’s still unpleasant and even scary. That is, I understand that he will never do anything bad to me, but I can’t help it, I shy away from him. And not only from him. I've turned into such a coward! With girls it’s still okay, but if there’s a guy in the company, I stay away or even go home. In general, I spend more and more time at home. This summer has turned black. The holidays drag on unbearably long. I've only been to the sea once. My father, having made an effort on himself, went a whole weekend without vodka and took my mother and me all the way to the Black Sea. It was the twelfth of August, and at the same time we celebrated my second birthday. It's a pity we couldn't grill kebabs. The border guards visited us three times already and did not allow us to make a fire. So we just sat until late on the deserted beach. And in the morning we went back. I miss my brother very much. I constantly forget myself and think: “I’ll have to show him this anime! “, or “Then I’ll ask him...” We were not exemplary brother and sister, we often fought, sometimes he brought me to tears. But it doesn’t matter. If only he spanked me every day! I even went to school with pleasure And the first days were almost normal. Only for some reason they avoided me, and I noticed some whispers. And then, one day, Vitka Solntseukh, nicknamed “The Sun with Ears,” a loser and a bully, came up to me. asked with some swagger: “Is it true that the Ukrainians caught you and kept you in the vegetable warehouse?” I nodded. “And you ran into the wall?” eyes - tears. - Aha! So, it’s true! - the small and harmful Seryoga Novikov jumped up joyfully. - Tell them how you did? - The sun continued and I was twisted by resentment, shame and horror. , rushed away from them, almost fell along the way, colliding with Dashka, jumped out the door and ran down the corridor. Locked herself in a stall in the toilet and sobbed there for a long time. I probably sat there for half the lesson. Returning to the classroom was unimaginable. I waited for a break and only then snuck out for my backpack. Behind him, from a gaggle of boys, there was a giggling sound. And the girls whisper and glance sideways at me. And, the most offensive thing is that Dasha and Vera are with them, hiding their eyes and trying hard to show that they don’t notice me. I grabbed my backpack and ran out of the school. The next day, I pretended that I was going to study, but I hid nearby and, after waiting for my parents to leave for work, I returned home. This went on for another three days. And then our class called my mother and asked why I wasn’t in class? I didn’t want to, but a scandal happened. Vitka’s mother was called to the director. And then during class, Valentina Ivanovna strictly demanded: “So that no one pesters Belyakova! The girl has already had to go through so much, and you are bringing her down!” And I also gained the “glory” of being a sneak. Well, the angry “Eared Sun”, who apparently had a great time flying in from his parents, continued to pester me. He had the cunning to do it unnoticed. Well, almost unnoticed. But that didn't make it any less lousy. And then he discovered a great way. During breaks, he simply passed by and touched me, supposedly by chance. And every time I had a cold lump in my stomach and such panic that I could barely restrain myself from running away screaming. And sometimes I couldn’t resist. She locked herself in the toilet again. At the next class hour, Valentina Ivanovna started talking about me again, to which the “Eared Sun” made innocent eyes and muttered offendedly: “What am I?” Did I pester her, or what?! It hurts! She's totally crazy! And half the class began to shout that it was so, Belyakova herself was to blame. And the other half looked at me with hostility and slight pity. Like some kind of freak. And nothing has changed. Only now almost all the boys began to scare me. And the girls were even offended that I didn’t react to them like that, and they did all sorts of tricks. And I endured all this. Because being branded a sneak again would be completely unbearable. The best time lessons started at school. In them, I was sitting at my table near the wall, where Valentina Ivanovna put me and no one could poke me. True, it became very difficult for me to answer at the board. I didn’t want to look at the hateful faces of my classmates. So the ratings went down. I started slipping into threes. In general, I didn’t care, but giving up here was somehow completely offensive. But I discovered that I could correct the matter by writing. I wrote almost all the tests perfectly. And mathematics, which was not very popular before, suddenly became so simple and understandable. There is no meanness, betrayal, or malice in numbers and equations. And physics followed mathematics. During the lessons I managed to solve all the problems, and even homework do. The teachers, seeing this, began to call me to the board less often. I felt like a glass cap was growing around me and becoming thicker, separating me from everyone else. Moreover, the boys began to scare me less. They were probably tired of it. Besides, during breaks I quickly left and hid somewhere. Most often in the same toilet, for which she earned the contemptuous nickname “Toilet Mouse” from the girls. The boys changed it to be more rude and indecent. And, the worst thing is, I began to get used to such a life. The life of an outcast. Mom sometimes talked about transferring me to another school. But in our village there are only two of them, they are located next to each other, and I am sure that everyone there will quickly find out about me and the same thing will begin, only even worse. And... I won't lie. A couple of times I had thoughts of finishing everything at once. But I imagined what would happen to my mother... She focused all her love on me. Previously, it was divided between me, my brother and my father, but now it is focused on me alone. And with my father... He still drank, and my mother carefully asked me who I would stay with if they divorced. Of course, with her, how could it be otherwise?! And also with grandparents. During the autumn holidays we went to visit them in Yalta. I love my mother's parents very much. It's a pity that they live so far away. And that father doesn’t like visiting them. Grandfather and Grandmother have a large two-room apartment in the center of Yalta. And if...

Chapter 8. Lifeless sky.

The sky over Ukraine.

Senior Lieutenant Myskin's fighter was alone patrolling a given area. On board the plane, under the canopy, there were still three yellow stars outlined in red. However, in the entire regiment, besides the fighters of Igor and Major Komov, only one crew had one single red star. Ukrainian planes ran out too quickly, most of them without even taking off from airfields destroyed by cruise missile explosions. True, about a month after the start of the war, the Ukrainians bought three dozen old, Soviet-built cars from Poland. But they were literally torn to pieces by Russian aces, hungry for prey. So the dream of “the entire world community” about a no-fly zone over Ukraine has come true. There was no one in the sky except Russian planes. And there were not only advantages to this. Now for Ukrainian anti-aircraft gunners any flying object is a target. Yes, the Esoks destroyed all of them in the first hours of the war, but the very mobile and agile Buks remained. They quickly deployed the complex, caught the nearest plane, fired missiles and tried to get away and hide. Very few succeeded in the latter, and within a couple of months, almost all the Buks were destroyed. But the VKS lost a dozen aircraft. The attack aircraft suffered much greater losses, and the helicopter pilots suffered especially serious losses. "Strel" and "Eagle" riveted a lot at one time, and Western weapons flowed into Ukraine in a fairly wide stream. So in military operations, Russian generals tried to make do only with ground forces and bombers that operated from high altitudes. And for fighters, like the one Igor Myskin was now leading, there was almost no work left. Only patrolling the lifeless sky. The senior lieutenant made a gentle turn. Looked down at the ground. He flew over the north of the Nikolaev region. Thirty kilometers to the east smoke could be seen over Krivoy Rog. There are still battles going on there. Ukrainian volunteer battalions hold the northwestern regions. Novorossians are trying to knock them out, but without much success. The Russian armed forces generally try not to participate in urban battles. In the very first days of the war, the armored fists of the Russian army broke through the front, put the enemy in five cauldrons and spread across the Ukrainian plains at once, destroying everyone who tried to resist, but bypassing large populated areas. An exception was made only for Kharkov and Odessa, which were captured by lightning assaults. And the rest of the cities were left to the Novorossians to liberate. In the same Kharkov, the government of the Novorossiysk Confederation was quickly formed, which included all the territories taken under control. And the army, the basis of which were veterans of the LDPR, filled with recruits from Kherson, Kharkov, Nikolaev and other republics, grew and strengthened at a rapid pace. Moreover, there were no problems with weapons. Russia didn’t even have to launch Voentorg in particular; it was enough that the Confederation was given all the captured equipment, of which there was a huge amount. The boilers did not last long. Perekopsky was the last to surrender. By the way, he was slammed first. Already on the second night after the start of the war, a massive airborne assault in the south of the Kherson region severed all communications, and the tank and two motorized rifle divisions that replaced the desperately defending paratroopers, breaking through north of Mariupol, finally completed the encirclement. Then for two months Perekop was ironed with everything possible and impossible, including cluster and vacuum bombs. The Ukrainians fought stubbornly, reminding us that in fact they are the same Russians, and they know how to fight to the end. But this end always comes someday. Igor leveled the plane. Now he was flying north to Cherkassy. And further, deeper into the “uncontrolled territory.” Russia did not, as all sorts of analysts predicted, capture Kyiv in a couple of days, and Lvov in two weeks. For what? Urban battles are the worst thing in war. That is why they were left to the Novorossians. And the Russian army stopped on the northern and western borders of the Confederation, preventing enemy troops from approaching it. Infrequent attacks were repulsed brutally, the remnants of the artillery were destroyed. So, in essence, the war was already over, although no one was going to make peace. It’s just that the enemy has nothing serious left to resist Russian troops. The old equipment that their friends from NATO sent was in lousy condition, and most of the industrial enterprises where it could be revived are now in Novorossiya. And the Americans and their allies were embarrassed to help with modern armored vehicles, especially after several columns of Abrams and Leopards were destroyed immediately after they crossed the Ukrainian border. And the United States has greatly diminished allies. Marine Le Pen stated that she was under no circumstances going to fight with Russia, and France, as it once did under De Gaulle, withdrew from the NATO military bloc. Greece, Türkiye, Austria and Hungary did the same. Germany was seething with anti-war rallies. But the biggest loss for the United States was Japan. Clinton spoke very poorly at one of her speeches at the end of May. She managed to say that only thanks to the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki did Japan embark on the path of democracy. And, if it is necessary to pay for the ideals of freedom, she is sure the Japanese will do it again. She also said that Japan is an outpost of the forces of light. A barrier from the evil Russia, China and North Korea. She was not forgiven for this “barrier”. Japan wasn't just outraged, it exploded. Being a shield behind which Americans hide is too offensive. And in general, over the 70 years of actual occupation, so much has accumulated... And now a bloc of communists, social democrats and all kinds of patriotic parties is in power there. The new prime minister immediately threatened that if the United States did not begin to withdraw all its bases, Japan would declare war on them. And to confirm his words, he ordered the bases to be blocked by self-defense forces. So the world down there, under the Su-27, was changing, and very quickly. Just as, quite possibly, his country will change. Admiral Serpukhov was not dismissed or court-martialed. The Western powers demanded this with howls, and, therefore, to do this means to follow their lead and show weakness. He was simply transferred again to his previous position as chief of fleet staff, appointing another admiral as fleet commander. But a month ago Gennady Serpukhov resigned. And last week, the formed Front of the Left Forces announced that it was nominating the “winner of the sixth fleet” as a candidate for the upcoming presidential elections. And, no matter what opinion polls say, he has every chance of defeating the nominee from the “party in power.” At least, Igor himself, and almost all other pilots of the regiment will vote for “their admiral.” A sharp signal indicated that the plane was being irradiated by radar. The instruments showed the azimuth and distance - twenty-three kilometers to the west. Igor perked up, cursed, turned the plane extremely sharply, with almost seven times the overload, to the east. As in that only air battle, at the end of the maneuver he turned on the afterburner. The co-pilot dropped decoys because he saw two missiles take off from the radar area. “Damn! What bad luck! And they thought they had run out of Buks!” The overload pressed Igor into the back of his seat, and the plane, having switched to supersonic, continued to pick up speed, trying to break away from the tenacious but short-range missiles. They were “blown away” three kilometers behind the tail, pecked down and rushed to the ground. And from the very edge of the radar screen, three dots crawled across him: an escort MiG and two Su-34s. They rush to bomb using the coordinates given by Igor. Most likely, this installation is also Khan. Igor only now noticed how tightly he was squeezing the handle of the steering wheel. “Yes, I got a lot of adrenaline pumping!” The pilot relaxed and reduced thrust. I asked the center about further actions, received an order to return home and headed for my home airfield.

Chapter 9. Gamer girl.

Suginami District, Tokyo, Japan.

Chapter 10. Childish hobby.

Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.

But Kiran Chaudhary has almost stopped playing on the computer lately. After he and his father restored it, Kiran begged a hundred rupees from his dad and went to the same radio market where they bought spare parts. Even that time, he noticed a couple of hawkers selling old CDs. And now he hovered over them for probably two hours. In huge flat wooden boxes there were rows of untold riches - battered and scratched plastic boxes with DVDs and CDs. Kieran sorted through them, looked lustfully at the bright pictures, and then carefully read the system requirements. They were usually written small print on the back of the boxes. The father told his son in detail what should be indicated there in order for the game to work on their ancient device. The computer was from the late nineties. K-6 processor, “as much as” 32 megabytes of RAM, hard drive of a ridiculous 8 gigabytes. Some disks did not have system requirements, and the boy asked the seller for advice. He looked at him with pity and said: “You managed to get such an ancient thing!” He himself began to delve into his goods, sometimes freezing for a few seconds with some game in his hands, looking at it nostalgically. In general, they put aside a dozen boxes, and the merchant, being generous, gave them all for the same hundred rupees. At the same time, he grumbled that it was taking away from his heart and that he should have asked for three times more. But, actually, he was glad to sell them. After all, there are practically no such antediluvian computers left alive as this boy’s. And he liked the kid: he was so small, but he already understood something and communicated with adults without fear or constraint. Kieran brought the acquired wealth home and in the evening he and his father began installing the games. In class, when Kiran boasted that he had a computer at home, at first everyone began to envy him, but then Mahavir lazily inquired: “What kind of machine is it?” and, having heard the answer, he categorically commented: “Scrap metal. Better throw it away.” Well, yes, his father has an almost new one. And the boys in the class were divided almost in half. Some mocked, others were jealous and asked to visit. Some friends got into the habit of going to Kieran and playing on his computer. Sometimes they got so carried away that the boy had to force them out from behind the screen and kick them out. However, he was kind and sociable, so the meetings at the computer did not stop for several months. But by spring they gradually faded away. Two kids from his class got game consoles at home, and the gang moved in with them. They also called Kiran, but he proudly refused. Don’t betray your old friend, but still a friend. Kieran treated the computer like a pet - very smart, but stupid. And I was amazed at my father’s stories about how much computers can do. He was offended that he was such a fool, and a month ago, at the beginning of March, once again rummaging through the tray of a disk seller, his gaze caught on a box with a loud name: “The greatest programming languages, from BASIC to C++.” After turning it over in his hands, Kieran for some reason put it aside. The merchant raised an eyebrow in surprise, but said nothing. At home, dad was also surprised by this purchase: - Why do you need this? - I want my Compy to become smarter, like those computers you told me about. The father chuckled and, rummaging in the chest of drawers, pulled out a couple of books. He handed it to his son: “Here, I studied with them in college.” I just doubt that you will understand any of them. Kieran narrowed his eyes slightly at his father and nodded, accepting the challenge. Yes, it was incredibly difficult to understand books on the basics of programming for a boy who had just turned ten years old. But, to his father’s surprise, he coped with it and a week later proudly demonstrated a simple program in BASIC that answered pre-conceived questions. "What is your name?" "Compy" "What's your favorite game?" "A lot! In what genre?" "Shooters" "Anreal. Well, also Heretic" And so on. - Here you see! I can already talk to Compy! - Kieran rejoiced. The father laughed. But a month later, Kiran installed Delphi, and Vikram Chaudhary reconsidered his opinion about his son. And he decided that it was time to think about transferring him to a more serious school. Even if it's paid.

Chapter 11. Turn the page.

Yalta, Republic of Crimea.

I don't know how I managed to survive seventh grade. How many tears did you shed into your pillow at home and in the school toilet? I even had a favorite cubicle in which I locked myself. No, of course, I tried to find more suitable places to wait out the changes. Good for the Japanese - they have school roofs for this. But our attic, of course, was locked. And I had to look for some not too crowded corners. True, later, when they almost left me alone, I simply stayed in the classroom and sat at my desk in the row furthest from the windows. By the end of the year, I more or less caught up with my studies and finished the year with almost nothing but B grades. Even in literature, which I almost failed. Mainly because of the poetry. I completely forgot how to read them. She remembered them easily, but as soon as she went to the board, she began to stammer and mumble without any expression. But I still got C grades in history and physical education. It's a shame, of course. After all, I know history well, but we hardly gave tests on it, and I had to answer at the blackboard, cowering under the gaze of my classmates. Anyway! I don't want to go to this school anymore! In April, my mother and father divorced. Without any particular scandals, although they quarreled a lot. Mom immediately filed a lawsuit for division of property. My father kept the car. Of course, he put so much effort and work into it! Still, he is considered the best car mechanic in the village. The court ordered the apartment and other property to be sold and the money divided. We were owed more than half. As soon as my studies ended, my mother took me to my grandparents in Yalta, and she returned to Razdolnoye. She sold the apartment and furniture surprisingly quickly and for good money. Just before the elections, the then prime minister made a broad gesture by paying compensation to everyone who lost their housing during the battles for Perekop. Mom sold our three-room Khrushchev house to refugees from Armyansk and arrived in Yalta in mid-July. We suddenly had a lot of money! My mother put some of it in the bank, for my studies and “dowry,” as she joked. I hope I never need it! Communication with the male half of the world was enough for me for the rest of my life. It was simply wonderful to live with grandmother Olya and grandfather Sergei! I love them very much, and they love me too. So I just bathed in all sorts of care. And I also swam in the sea. To be honest, I was even starting to get a little bored with it. From Razdolnoye to the sea it’s about five kilometers - more than an hour to walk. That's why my girlfriends and I went to see it only a few times over the summer. Yes, the father of five times took us out in the car. And I perceived swimming in the sea as a miracle, which is very difficult to get to. Like mountaineering, when you have to sweat to climb a mountain. And here it’s a five-minute leisurely walk to the nearest beach! There are still few holidaymakers this year. Of course, it’s not the same low season as it was in the seventeenth, but there are no crowds either. So my grandparents and I didn’t go far. We usually swam in the morning or evening, but I was still thoroughly tanned. And when mom arrived, the holiday began! She took me to various interesting places, fed me in cafes, and bought me a bunch of beautiful clothes. She also gave me a new fancy smartphone for my birthday. I resisted: - Why do I need him?! I can still call you as usual! - Let it be! You can brag to your friends! “So I don’t have girlfriends,” I answered slightly sullenly. After the betrayal of Dasha and Vera, I absolutely don’t want to get close to anyone. Neither in real life, nor in social networks. - It’s okay, you’ll start at a new school! - Mom said confidently. My mother enrolled me in the prestigious Chekhov gymnasium, it is very close to our house, about a five-minute walk up the alleys. By the way, I also live on Chekhov Street! This ancient writer is just haunting me! I even became interested in what and how he wrote. Moreover, according to the program, it was assigned for the summer. Grandfather and grandmother have three bookcases, including the collected works of Anton Pavlovich. Yeah, I even remember his name. I pulled the volume out from the middle and read a couple of stories. I did not like. It's boring and kind of disgusting to read. I don’t like it when people are looked down upon, like curious bugs scurrying around underfoot. I had to eat away the unpleasant aftertaste of Lukyanenko’s Knights of the Forty Islands. It’s good that grandfather loves science fiction, and they also have a lot of such books. And next door to our house there are real ruins! So picturesque. An ancient three-story house, or rather the remaining walls of it, overgrown with bushes and young trees. I really wanted to explore these ruins, but I was afraid. You never know who might live there... In general, I haven’t made up my mind, I just glance at them when I pass by. By the way, the gymnasium that I will go to in the fall is also in the old house. She is almost one and a half hundred years old! The building is amazingly beautiful, made of stone, with rounded windows at the top, high ceilings and antique parquet. I'm even scared to study in such a place. Although it’s scary for a different reason, of course. On the first of September, I’ll put on a new school uniform with an embroidered monogram - the intertwined letters “Y” and “G”, I’ll come to the eighth “A” grade and... .. And what? How should I behave? Will I be able to start my life with clean slate? What happened to my androphobia? Yes, I found the name of my illness on the Internet a long time ago. "Panic fear of men." Even when guys are just next to me, I feel uneasy. And if they touch me, I simply die of fear. We have to fight this somehow. But how? My mother took me to a psychologist a couple of times. But what's the use of it? Well, we talked, well, he told me a bunch of the right words. He recommended exercises for training. But I read about them online without him. Mom suggested that I go in for sports. And I agreed. Of course, at the age of fourteen it’s too late to start doing something seriously, but I don’t need it for medals! I want to feel confident. And if something happens, be able to stand up for yourself. My mother and I visited many sports sections. I rejected my mother's sighs about artistic gymnastics, synchronized swimming and other girls’ sports. Then my mother suggested that I go to martial arts. But as soon as I imagined that some boy would grab me, I was covered with goose bumps from head to toe and almost lost consciousness. But boxing or taekwondo scare me. I'm still a coward and I'm afraid of pain. And there they will hit you with all their might, even with gloves on. - What do you think about fencing? - Mom asked. I shook my head. - It's some kind of toy. I saw the competition on TV. The swords are thin, the athletes try to touch each other with their tips. This is not at all what it was like in the days of musketeers or pirates. Now, if I could go to kendo... - Kendo? - Mom asked again. What is this? - Well, Japanese sword fencing. Do you remember in the anime that I showed you? - A! Are these bamboo sticks? - Mom assented and thought. - Wait a minute. Let me see... She shooed me away from the computer and started looking for something in Yandex. - Here. It? Aikido, Kobudo, Kendo and Iaido. Livadia, Yunosti Lane, three. Bushido club. Well, shall we go? - Let's go! While we were traveling on the fifteenth minibus, I was all worried. On the way from the bus stop to the club, we passed a small chapel, and I hastily crossed myself. Actually, I’m not a believer, but still... Maybe this helped me, but most likely something else calmed me down. A small Japanese-style courtyard, a tiny pond with a real bamboo rocking chair! "Dojo! It's not a club at all!" Having said this to myself, I suddenly felt some kind of peace. And when a calm man in a white kimono walked towards us and spoke quietly to my mother, looking at me carefully and seriously, I completely pulled myself together. I don’t know what exactly his mother told him, but the instructor didn’t look very happy. He came up to me and looked at me again. He was clearly not impressed with me - an ordinary girl who was only a couple of weeks old from her fourteenth birthday. Short and thin. How can you fight with someone like that with swords if you can destroy them with one blow? He asked skeptically: “Do you really want to do kendo?” “Hai, sensei,” and I bowed deeply from the waist, like I saw it in anime. - Hm. Are you learning Japanese? “Only a little,” I was embarrassed. - But now I’ll definitely start. - Well, if you’re so serious, then let’s try... Come to training the day after tomorrow.

Chapter 12. An unexpected proposal.

Krymsk, Russia.

Today senior lieutenant Igor Myskin had a day off. This meant that I would have to be bored all day in the flight crew's dorm, which, no matter what, was called the barracks. In the small room where Igor lived with two other pilots, there was gray twilight. The sky was overcast with low clouds, and there was a fine, cold November rain that made you want to cower. Igor thought that the sun was shining above the clouds. And flying over the endless white sea of ​​clouds is very beautiful. And here you sit and do nothing. Six months ago, Mysskin would have occupied himself with studying flight maps or hanging around the plane, watching the technicians prepare it for the next flight. But now a general cooldown has come over him too. In essence, the war was over for them. No, no peace with Ukraine was expected. The Ukrainian government flatly refused to negotiate with the “aggressor.” And after the April coup, when an openly fascist junta came to power, reconciliation became impossible. By the way, due to the actions of the Nazis, especially after the shooting of the Kyiv demonstration in July, Europeans, especially Germany, are finding it increasingly difficult to find justifications for them and openly support them. So planes are still patrolling the Ukrainian skies. But now these are aircraft of the Novorossiya Air Force. President Serpukhov handed over a whole bunch of previously mothballed military equipment to a friendly country. It was hastily put in order at the factories, which were reanimated after a quarter of a century of independence. So now the army of the People's Confederate Republic could easily do without the help of its eastern neighbor. True, it lacked experienced pilots, but this problem was quickly solved. Lieutenant Colonel Komov, Igor’s former leader, as soon as he was awarded the next rank, wrote a report and went to Nikolaev as a military adviser - to train local pilots, half of whom had also recently changed their country of residence. And he did the right thing! He is just a little short of retirement, but he will remain in the service and in the sky. And Igor Myskin is now the leader in the duo. This placed a burden of responsibility on the guy. Even though they were now patrolling the skies over the Southern District of Russia, the situation in the world did not allow them to relax. Igor did not have the chance to participate in the Syrian operation of the Aerospace Forces this summer. They were just leaving Ukraine at that time, and his regiment was not used. But the other guys had to fly and bomb the ISIS fighters. And again it almost ended big war with America. After the skies over Syria were closed to coalition aircraft, they tried to ignore it and lost two fighters. The game of fleets began again, and the level of readiness of nuclear forces was again raised. Fortunately, Tim Kane, who a year ago replaced Hilary, who did not survive the stress of the crisis, stopped in time. But tense relations with America remained. And with the remnants of the NATO bloc too. There is now a powerful American group in Poland, the Baltic states and Romania. Other European countries that did not leave the bloc following France, Hungary and other Montenegros are also building up their muscles. And they are trying with all their might to harm Russia. They disrupted the World Football Championship, which Mysskin was only happy about, and did not allow our team to attend the Olympics in Pyeongchang, which was usually upsetting. And, most importantly, they continued to adhere to the oil and gas embargo. They were freezing, they stopped industrial enterprises , but they tried to deprive Russia of petrodollars. Naive! Do they really not know how to learn from their own mistakes? There are other states that are very willing to buy our raw materials. Let's say Japan, which also has very tense relations with its former allies. So Russia has enough funds for reindustrialization, which the new prime minister is in full swing. Of course, he had been talking about it and carefully planning it for a couple of decades. Only they didn’t really listen to him, playing at liberal economics. But now the renowned left-wing economist and academic has every opportunity to act. Igor heard footsteps in the corridor, and there was a knock on the door of his room: - Allow me? - Come in. - Sergeant Semiverstov. “Messenger,” the boy introduced himself in an ironed, but wet from the rain, parade coat. - Senior Lieutenant Igor Myskin? - Yes. - The chief of staff, Lieutenant Colonel Nazimov, is calling you. - Thank you. I'm going now. Igor quickly changed into a paradka and, grabbing an umbrella, ran out into the street. He did not put on anything other than his uniform and, shivering from the cold wind, under the umbrella being torn from his hands, he ran to the headquarters building. “Maybe it’s good that I’m not flying today,” he thought. “It’s still a pleasure to land in this weather!” Just to confirm his thoughts, a roar was heard above him and, raising his head, the senior lieutenant watched the plane landing. With a trained eye, he assessed that he would land normally and ran on. The headquarters was also in darkness. In some places they even turned on the lights, despite it being daytime. In the office of the chief of staff, the ceiling lamps burned brightly. - Will you allow me? Senior Lieutenant Mysskin has arrived on your orders! Igor saluted dashingly and stretched out in front of a stocky, dark-skinned man with early gray hairs at the temples, sitting behind a large desk littered with papers. - I allow it. Sit down, Igor,” Nazimov pointed with his hand to a chair standing on the side of the table. Igor sat down and relaxed. - I have a conversation with you. Serious,” the chief of staff looked carefully at the young pilot. He approached, but didn’t ask anything. - Well, first of all, I want to make you happy. We sent the documents for the assignment of captain yesterday. So for the new year, you’ll probably add an asterisk to yourself. Igor was really happy. Yes, during hostilities, stars fall quickly on shoulder straps. And yet, to rise from lieutenant to captain in a year and a half is great! But now he will probably be stuck in this rank for three or even four years, but that’s not scary! - And the second thing... - the lieutenant colonel began to look for something on the table among the papers. - You received an order from army headquarters. Igor tensed, trying to figure out what this was for. It seems that I didn’t remember any jambs. Or is it because of that old story with the downed MiGs? So it seemed like everything was resolved. They and Komov, however, were not awarded any awards, but they were congratulated on their victory, and they were allowed to paint stars on the fuselages. - At the army headquarters, they compiled lists of pilots who graduated from college with honors, performed well in a combat situation and have good physical training. Especially when it comes to overload tolerance. You fit all the parameters. The only one from our regiment, by the way. Igor allowed himself to show surprise. He still did not understand what the lieutenant colonel was driving at. And the chief of staff looked straight at the pilot and asked quietly: “Do you want to try to join the cosmonaut corps?” It’s good that Igor was already sitting. Mysskin stared at Lieutenant Colonel Nazimov with such surprise that he could not stand it and laughed quietly with some giggles. - Well, you have a face now, Mysskin! You should have seen it! Don't worry too much. This is just an opportunity to become an astronaut. You may still be eliminated during the tests. And suddenly becoming more serious: “But I don’t think so.” I have seen a lot of pilots, and I understand something about people. It seems to me that you will pass, and I will still boast that I nurtured the famous astronaut. Well, do you agree to try? - Yes!

Chapter 13 . Russian language.

Suginami District, Tokyo, Japan.

Her team failed again. Hana tried her best and gave out twice as much damage as her strongest comrade. And somewhere on the level of the worst players of the enemy clan. “Nnpatby Dpayconvnx Jop,” or whatever the unpronounceable name is read, won as expected. Still, they are the best on the server. Their captains have an excellent sense of the dynamics of battle and drive their airships simply divinely. No worse than Hana. And again after the fight, one of them with the nickname “Danknn” wrote something to her. And Hana once again limited herself to a sad emoticon. You could try to write “I don’t know Russian” in English, but what’s the point? She also knows English very poorly. Hana is only in the sixth grade of elementary school. So, alas... It’s a pity, maybe this same “Danknn” wants to invite her to the clan? But, not speaking Russian, it is impossible to communicate with her fellow guild members. Hana looked at the beautiful screensaver with regret, admired the collection of her airships and turned off “Pirates of Allods”. I've been hooked on this game for two months now. At first I played on an English-language server. I easily got used to the controls and began to win constantly. Either the level of the players was very low, or she knew how to feel the combat vehicles she was controlling too well, but Hana got the hang of it pretty quickly. It’s boring to play here. And then she decided to try to register on the game’s home site. It was not easy, the letters were not the same as in the Latin alphabet, and the girl could not form meaningful words from them. I had to use an online translator after downloading Russian language support onto my computer. But in the end, she started the game. And it turns out she's just an average player here. Hana got angry either at the Russians or at her own arrogance and took the game seriously. And after a couple of weeks, she again began to win most battles. With difficulty, but to win. Until I encountered this clan in the “capture points” mission. He tore their squad into small pieces. The ships soared to maximum heights, dived under ruins floating in the sky, went around flying islands and blew up the ships of her group one after another with precise fire. And Hana’s high-speed corvette was also sent for rebirth every now and then. This fight really affected Hana. And now she tried to find battles where “Nnpatbi Dpayconvnx jop” was participating and join the group opposing him. And every time it ended like this. Hana is in the top lines of her squad and in the bottom of these very “Nnpatbi”. Hana suddenly remembered what she had wanted to do for a long time, launched Google Translate, switched it to Russian-Japanese, opened a virtual keyboard with Cyrillic and typed in the name of this damned clan from memory. - Wow! - the girl was surprised after reading the translation. - "Pirates of the Dragon Mountains." Sounds good! What does the nickname "Danknn" mean? Nothing? Then let's try the transcription. "Darakin." Well, let it be Darakin, not the lousiest name. Oh! She glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of the screen and jumped out of her chair. She rushed to the locker, grabbed a backpack with swimming equipment from it and, hastily dressed, ran out into the street. Only ten minutes until training! If she is late, Anna Pavorovona will swear! Hana made it in time at the last moment. She ran into the locker room, out of breath, with her hair wet from the light autumn rain. She quickly began to change into a swimsuit. The training was normal. Warm-up, stretching, swimming, holding your breath. And then practice the simplest exercises. Somersaults under water, rotation when legs are vertically stuck out, support. Hana switched to synchronized swimming during the summer holidays. As a swimmer, she practically stopped growing. Apparently, participation in municipal competitions is her limit. The swim results are hardly improving, despite all her efforts. And then at the pool they announced that a synchronized swimming section was opening, and elementary school girls swimmers were invited to join. And it was also written there that they would be trained by a Russian coach. And Hana caught fire! For some reason, she really wanted to take up this particular sport. After all, he is so beautiful! So she signed up and has been studying for three months under the strict guidance of Anna Pavorovona. The coach, still a fairly young woman, is a good swimmer and synchronized swimmer herself, and took on the girls very hard. The training was much more serious than that of swimmers. And Hana liked it. It’s nice when after class your body is buzzing with fatigue, and the next day you feel such a surge of strength that you’re ready to run around half of Tokyo. One thing was difficult. The coach knew Japanese very poorly, and during training she gave orders exclusively in Russian. This Russian again! And, walking home through the dark evening streets, Hana firmly decided that she would definitely learn the language of the neighboring power. Right now, he’ll come home and start! Of course, Hana Hayakawa had no idea how much this decision would affect her life.

Chapter 14. Seventh grader.

Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.

After the holidays, Kieran changed schools. Now he is a seventh grader at the prestigious Salanki school. Parents are proud that their son wears a burgundy jacket and purple pants. But for Kiran it’s deep purple. He was sorry to part with his friends, to leave good teachers. And the careless life in an ordinary municipal school is much freer than in this one, where everyone is polite and tries to behave decently. And it’s difficult for Kieran. He was always very restless, loved to play and run around during recess. He is only ten years old, after all! So what if he’s a seventh grader? In India, children start school at age four, so Kiran is actually just a child. Yes, very gifted, knowledgeable about computers no worse than a computer science teacher, but still a child. "Compy, hello!" "Hello..." There is a sad face on the screen. "Why aren't you in the mood?" “Yes, so... the processor is overheating. The fan is probably malfunctioning.” "No, it's because it's hot outside!" And, indeed, it’s almost thirty degrees outside! Wow, winter, huh? "What is heat?" - Meanwhile, Compy asked. The face on the screen took on a curious expression. “High temperature,” Kieran wrote. "Ah, got it!" True, it may seem that the computer is intelligent? Do you know how many tens or even hundreds of hours Kieran spent creating and expanding a program according to which his friend, rattling with a faulty hard drive and whirring with old fans, maintains a conversation? But now with Compy you can conduct quite long and interesting conversations. The main thing is to try to get out of your head and forget all the algorithms that Kieran developed. And at the same time, use keywords that the program responds to. But the boy knew how to play, turning reality into a fairy tale, and therefore could correspond with his friend for almost hours, animating him. Kieran briefly thought that he would need to teach Compy to talk about the weather. And if you ask dad to solder something that will give the computer the ability to monitor what is happening on the street... For example, a solar battery so that he knows the sun is shining there, or some kind of sensor that reacts to rain. I’ll definitely have to talk to dad in the evening when he comes home from work! - Kieran! - a ringing voice came from the street. - Are you home? Let's play robber cops! - I'm running! - the young computer scientist responded and rushed headlong out of the house, towards games and friends.

Chapter 15. Through the partition.

Russian segment of the ISS.

Andrey put his ear to the cold metal of the hatch and raised his finger up, or rather down, in relation to Anatoly, who was floating upside down, in warning. The second cosmonaut froze, slowly drifting around the compartment. After half a minute I couldn’t stand it and asked in a whisper: “Well?” “They stomp like elephants,” Andrey answered with a satisfied look and unstuck from the hatch. - Elephants? - asked Anatoly. - Well, yes, so pink, with wings. Both astronauts laughed. In general, the composition of the fifty-seventh expedition to the ISS was chosen especially well. They are the same age, both forty-nine years old, experienced and have achieved a lot in life. True, this was Andrey’s first flight, but he was an excellent engineer who devoted himself to space. And Anatoly already flew to the ISS several years ago and found his way around here perfectly. So it was not at all by chance that these two ended up in the Russian segment of the station at the very end of the eighteenth year. Then, when the Americans finally arrived at the tightly sealed “bourgeois” segment. A year and a half ago, when warships of both powers were exploding and dying below, the Russian and American space agencies came to the decision that in this situation it was impossible to continue joint flights. An American, a European and a Russian, with all possible speed, but at the same time carefully, transferred all ISS systems to conservation mode. Then the American astronaut closed the pressure adapter hatch in some special way. So that it cannot be opened from the Russian segment. The participants of the last fiftieth international expedition silently boarded the descent module and, undocked from the empty space home, rushed to their home planet. Thus ended cooperation in space. And Russian cosmonautics was revived. A little over a month later, the Soyuz docked with the Pirs module. A team of resuscitators arrived at the station. It was necessary to reconfigure all systems so that the Russian segment could function autonomously. First of all, a very difficult task lay ahead - to integrate the on-board computer that we had brought with us and transfer all the control lines of the Russian modules to it. There were very strong suspicions that the ISS central computer, assembled by the Americans, might have some kind of malicious bookmarks. So the option of taking control over to one’s own electronic brain has long been worked out. The astronauts did it. In fact, we could say goodbye to the huge station, which had turned into a non-residential appendage to our modules. Undock and fly separately. But the fact is that the Russian segment can live on its own, but the ISS will die without it. The Zvezda has a control center, life support systems, housing, after all. And also docking points for trucks. And, most importantly, the attitude control engines of those same cargo "Progress" supported the giant colossus of the international station in orbit; without them, the station would, after some time, leave orbit and crash to Earth. It would be a nice gesture. Not just a slap to the opponent, but a knockout blow. The loss of tens of billions of dollars and decades of hard work by NASA, ESA and Jaxa. No, maybe Western countries would have managed to solve this problem before the disaster, but they would have had to do it using emergency methods. The Russian leadership at that time was simply itching to do this to the enemy. But at that time there was a man in power who knew a lot about conflict diplomacy and wrestling matches. If you can strike to death, it is better not to hit, but to make it clear that you are ready to strike at any second. So the ISS became a kind of hostage. In the meantime, nothing prevented me from calmly continuing to use it, but on my own. Of course, all plans went to hell, the groups had to be disbanded and re-trained. But, on the other hand, Russian specialists breathed a sigh of relief. There is no need to look back at your “partners”, adapt to them, or limit your own research. However, another problem arose. There was a noticeable shortage of astronauts. Back in 1917, four of the most experienced cosmonauts retired, having flown for a total of seven and a half years. In the coming years, five more people will go on vacation. And Anatoly and Andrey don’t have long to fly. But ahead is the construction of NOX - the National Orbital Space Station, and the lunar program! So, recruitment was hastily announced for the military space forces, and soon engineers would also need to be recruited. But this is wonderful! Russian cosmonautics has finally taken a deep breath! What about the rest of the ISS? She flew on like that, joining the Russian segment full of life. The Americans were hastily working on their manned spacecraft. The contractors, the Space-X company, were again not doing well, as before with Falcon. Two unsuccessful launches, fortunately without a crew, long trials, modifications. And so, on the eve of Catholic Christmas, the Dragon took off and docked at the station. They entered it from the back door, through the Harmony. The three astronauts had to evaluate the possibility of restoring the station. And then, next year, the habitation and command module will have to be docked to it. And live with the Russians behind the wall, like in a communal apartment with hated neighbors. Andrey, meanwhile, took a steel rod from his pocket and knocked loudly on the hatch. Anatoly looked expressively at his friend and twirled his finger at his temple. And a minute later, response sounds were heard from the direction of the hatch. - Shall we knock? - inquired the flight engineer. - Do you happen to know the prison code? Anatoly laughed, swam to the hatch, took the piece of iron from his friend and, alternating strong and weak blows, quickly knocked on the metal, slowly saying out loud: - Hi. How was the flight? A minute later the reply message came: - With comfort. It's so spacious here. Are you, perhaps, cramped? - Anatoly translated and explained: - this is Jack. Andrey smiled, remembering something. He commanded: - Knock! “Be careful there, there is a ghost in the Japanese module. It scratches at our hatch at night.” And, when his partner finished the transfer, he put his ear to the hatch. - They laugh. But in vain! Jack, by the way, is superstitious - worse than me! - Actually, I don’t envy them. It must be scary to climb around a huge, cold, empty station. “Yes, horror and fear,” Andrei confirmed. - Maybe we can ask the Mission Control Center for access to space? I would sneak onto the Keebo and scratch through the porthole. “A dreamer,” Anatoly smiled. “Good idea,” came suddenly from the speaker. - But I won’t give you permission. And then suddenly the cowboys will start firing their Colts out of fear. “Semyon Alexandrovich, well, they’re not completely crazy... probably,” Andrey responded. - Speaking of Colts. Most likely, they have weapons with them, so keep your farts handy. I don’t think they will be needed, but, still,” the flight director sighed and continued: “And don’t get carried away with tapping.” We decided that we would not have any direct communications with the American crew. Only through official channels. - Semyon Alexandrych, but it’s boring! - Andrei whined. - Should I give you some extra work? - a voice from the speaker asked insinuatingly. - Oh! I didn't think about it! - exclaimed the flight engineer. - That's it! Okay guys, continue with your routine. And I sometimes allow knocking, just don’t abuse it and don’t scare the amers too much! - We're not too much. I just want to tell them some scary story after lights out, about a coffin on wheels, for example. People on Earth laughed.

Chapter 16 . Olympics.

Simferopol, Republic of Crimea.

We were placed in a boarding school. The students left for the holidays and we took over their bedrooms. Our girls' room was large, for eight people. It's a little unpleasant to sleep on someone else's bed, but nothing can be done. Okay, somehow I’ll make it through three nights. All the girls were, of course, strangers, but it seemed okay. One, Iolanta, immediately began getting to know everyone and chatting. I instantly found a friend - Vika from Kerch, who is just as sociable and cheerful. And the rest were like me - closed and unsociable. They buried themselves in their tablets and read or watched something there. I thought and took out my Sonya. It was probably worth looking through the cheat sheets and repeating the formulas again. But I was lazy. And what's the point? You can't prepare in one evening! So I opened the old but beloved “Full Steel Alert” that I had downloaded for just such an occasion and started watching. The best thing is to get distracted and not think about tomorrow's theoretical round of the Republican Olympiad in Physics. Yes, it's surprising, but here I am. And how did I get to this point? - Again Good morning! - Andrei Igorevich’s voice is not quiet and calm like a teacher’s. And the class, noisy after the line, becomes silent and listens. - We have a new student. The teacher waves his hand in my direction. I freeze, afraid that he will decide to take me by the shoulder or touch me in some other way. It was not enough on the very first day in front of new classmates... But he remains at a distance. Continues: - Anastasia Belyakova. Nastya moved from Razdolnoye. I hope you become friends with her. A discordant, consonant hum was heard. - So, where should I put you? Anton, please sit down with Sergei Bezmerov. And you, Nastya, sit down with Natasha. A tall, fair-haired boy stood up from the second table near the window and, picking up his backpack, slowly moved to the nimble boy sitting in the back of the class. He waved his hand, and they bumped palms in greeting. It seems Indian... And I sat down in the vacant seat. - Hello! - a slightly plump girl with very thick and slightly curly light brown shoulder-length hair greeted me quietly. - Hello. “I’m Nastya,” I answered, embarrassed for some reason. “I heard,” Natasha giggled. “Nastya, Natasha, then you’ll gossip,” Andrei Igorevich’s voice contains mockery, not irritation. - I hope that you all had a good rest during the holidays and are now eager to gnaw on the granite of science. And we will provide you with this rock, no doubt. You know, in theory I was supposed to give you a lesson on patriotism. But you know everything even without me. And that we are still at war with Ukraine. And about the economic blockade that Western countries have imposed on us. And about the need to be vigilant. I think you will be told about this many, many times in social studies and history classes. I am a physics teacher, and I see my task in something else. The point is that you fall in love with my subject. We realized how interesting and important he is. And patriotism... If you grow up literate and honest people , and one of you connects your life with science or technology, then by working for your country, you will show that same patriotism... I was very lucky with my class teacher. Andrei Igorevich is middle-aged, probably about fifty years old, calm and friendly. And, which is completely incomprehensible to me, the class listens to him. My old one would have walked around on ears and spat on the teacher, but here... I don’t know why? But his classmates, not too disciplined in other lessons, sit quietly and listen attentively. And he talks very, very interestingly. Not at all according to the textbook. On the first day, he picked it up from the table, grimaced as if he had a toothache, and declared in a completely unpedagogical manner: “Do you know what I would do with those who wrote it?” I would force you to take a course in Chinese literature in Mongolian. So I won’t ask based on this boring publication, but based on what I’m telling you. If you don’t want to take notes and memorize, learn paragraphs from the textbook. Suffer. And the teacher began to talk about molecules, how they live in matter, how steam is formed, and what happens when water freezes. I've already listened to it. But then I was not worried about physics, but about much more important things. I was terribly worried about how my classmates would treat me. And won't the same thing begin as in the old school? But... A few days later, Vitya, sitting behind me, tapped me on the shoulder. I cringed. My breath caught. - What do you want? - Natasha turned to him. - Give me a ruler, will you? - Hold it! You have to wear your own! There is no point in distracting people! And, handing over the ruler, Natasha looked at me carefully and slightly guiltily. I smiled a little. It seems to have let go. And then the thought burned me: “She knows! Where?! But Andrei Igorevich specifically separated Anton from her. He didn’t put me in jail with the boy. And, for sure, he told Natasha! But my mother promised that she wouldn’t talk about it!” “Don’t be afraid,” the girl whispered quietly, leaning close to my ear. - I will never tell anyone. This is our secret. And I was enveloped in such a grateful warmth from this... In general, the class was good. That is, all sorts of people studied there, but there were none particularly evil or vile. If I had gotten here a year ago... But I am no longer the same as I was before. I can't help it. The girls came up to meet me and tried to get me to talk. But I closed myself off, remained silent, or answered inappropriately. And they left me alone. Only Natasha continued to unobtrusively look after me. She turned out to be very kind and somehow cozy. And never discouraged. She somehow took everything surprisingly easily and naturally. We would probably have become friends if I had not felt alienated from everyone, even from her. But we definitely became good friends! This is how the first month of school passed. I still really didn’t like answering at the board. And during breaks I usually sat at the table and picked at my phone. Everyone got used to me and stopped paying attention. Well, the person doesn’t want to communicate, and that’s fine. The teachers treated me evenly. At a parent-teacher meeting, my mother was told that I “don’t grab stars from the sky, but I study diligently.” This is how it really is. As before, I listened carefully to the teachers. It saves me time. I have a good memory and just listening to the teacher is enough to remember everything. I didn’t even open my textbooks at home! Well, besides Russian and English, of course. And I usually did my math and physics homework in class. It probably would have continued that way. If it weren't for the school Olympiad. One day in October, Andrei Igorevich warned: “Tomorrow after the sixth lesson there will be a Physics Olympiad.” Ours, school. Anyone who wants to can come. Yeah, I see that no one will come. Then like this: Ivantsov, Sergienko, Stepanyan, Semenova, Olinichev... and Belyakova. I looked up in surprise. Why did it happen? I'm getting a solid B in physics. Not more. Well, okay, it’s necessary - that means it’s necessary. To my surprise, two days later I found myself in the top three to go to the city Olympics in November. Of course, I was glad that I wasn’t as stupid as I thought I was, but I didn’t pay much attention. Moreover, I had no time for physics then. At the dojo, introductory classes ended and training began. I took them on so zealously that I crawled home barely alive. Dozens, hundreds of blows with a sword... My arms simply fell off, and my whole body ached. But I was happy about it! This means I am getting stronger every day! And now, picking up a heavy bamboo sword, I was transformed. I stopped being the fearful and weak girl I was just a short time ago. I also kept the promise I accidentally made to the coach. Mom found Japanese courses in Yalta, and I diligently attended them and diligently learned the language of the Land of the Rising Sun. Even before, watching anime, I understood something without translation. And now I dreamed of giving up subtitles and dubbing altogether. I didn’t forget about the upcoming Olympiad only thanks to the physics elective. Classroom teacher insisted that I go to him too. Well, the first time I insisted. Because then I began to look forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. I thought we would just sit and solve problems. Nothing like this! Andrei Igorevich let us into the laboratory, and we, under his supervision, dragged all sorts of instruments into the classroom and began to conduct various experiments with them. An electrophoric machine that makes your hair stand on end, and if you then touch something, a small bolt of lightning flashes. All kinds of mechanical devices and stands, a spectroscope, a gas-discharge lamp, mysteriously flickering in the dark. In general, these classes were called electives only in the curriculum. In fact, it was a real scientific circle. Children from all classes attended it. Six or seven people were constantly engaged. Of course, I was scared, especially at first. After all, besides me, there were no girls in the circle. In addition, I am the youngest - there are no other eighth-graders. The guys treated me with condescending patronage, sometimes they gave me light assignments, but most often I just stood or sat nearby and watched them work. My androphobia has not disappeared anywhere, but for some reason I almost stopped reacting to the guys from the circle, I only cringed if I accidentally came into contact with someone. And in November, when it began to get dark early, we stopped several times and took out a small but real telescope. This was truly a miracle! I eagerly waited for my turn to look through the eyepiece at the huge cratered Moon, at the tiny dots of Jupiter’s satellites, at the scattering of stars in the Pleiades, or simply at the November sky dotted with sharp grains of light. Vanya Skvortsov spoke surprisingly interestingly about astronomy. I really enjoyed listening to this lanky, bespectacled tenth grader. And to see behind his words the expanses of space, stars, planets... It was better than any fairy tales! And on November twenty-fifth I went to the Olympics. I felt a little sorry for Sunday. The weather was wonderful, and we could go to the sea, even if not to swim in the cold water, but just sit on the shore or even sunbathe. But I had to drag myself to the second school, hang around for three hours in a stuffy classroom, solving problems. It seems like I managed to do everything, but I didn’t have time to rewrite it, so I turned in the drafts. Poor teachers, who will have to understand my handwriting, and even while I was deciding, I scribbled thoroughly. Well, okay, it’s not serious anyway. The problems are so simple, everyone probably solved them. As it turns out, I was wrong about this. “I have good news,” Andrei Igorevich smiles and looks at me. - Nastya Belyakova went to the city physical Olympiad and took first place there. They hit me over the head like a pillow. I sit and don’t understand anything. "Who am I?!" And everyone looks at me with curiosity and unexpected respect. “Well done,” the teacher praised me. - Just next time try to leave time for completing the work. Otherwise, at first they didn’t want to check your handwriting. But I insisted. You know, I hoped that you would perform well, but so... By the way, did you hear that Ilya Mikhailovich Frank graduated from our gymnasium? Nobel laureate. Who knows, maybe someday I will brag that I taught Anastasia Belyakova? I shook my head and felt myself blush. - Well, in any case, get ready. During the winter holidays you will go to the republican one. And here I am, in Simferopol. And the tasks here are completely different from those in the city. I solved only two out of five, and dug into two more. Andrei Igorevich warned that even attempted solutions must be written down, then this will be taken into account. So I honestly and as carefully as I could copied everything onto a clean copy and handed in the sheets. My head was a little dizzy from fatigue, and I really wanted to eat. I could hardly wait until they took us out to lunch! It was necessary, following the example of other girls, to buy some chocolate in advance. In the evening the bedroom was no longer so boring. The girls seemed to have passed their exams, and now we were chatting and exchanging contacts. Then the three girls huddled around me and we watched a few episodes of Anxiety. One of them - Larisa Kulaeva from Belogorsk - turned out to be an avid anime fan, and, laying down in bed - ours were nearby - we whispered with her for a long time, discussing our favorite TV series. Overall, the evening was wonderful! And in the morning, lists were posted in front of the entrance to the dining room. Who earned how many points and what place they took. With bated breath, I began to look for my last name. Of course, there is nothing to count on, but still. Oh! Hooray! As many as seventeen points! It turns out that the problems that I didn’t solve also helped! And I... share places from fifth to seventh! This is out of thirty people! - Congratulations, Nastya! Turned around. Vanya Skvortsov stands and smiles at me joyfully. Oh, how is he doing? I quickly glanced at the column of tenth graders. Wow! Third place! - Congratulations to you too! What a great guy you are! - Thank you! So, today you and I are going to go on a practical tour. Don’t worry, imagine that you are doing experiments in our laboratory. “I’ll try,” I answered confidently.

Chapter 17 . Astronaut.

Zvezdny, Moscow region.

Igor fastened the zipper under his chin and admired himself in the mirror. Dark blue jumpsuit with large bright stripes on the chest and both sleeves. Thick, but very pleasant to the touch fabric. Igor smiled widely at his reflection. Did this really happen to him? To be honest, he never dreamed of becoming an astronaut. It was so prohibitively far away, so impossible that he was absolutely envious of those lucky people who fly into space. But now he is here, in the hostel, preparing for the festive ceremony of joining the cosmonaut corps! More than two months of exams, medical examinations, physical training tests, and psychological tests are behind us. It was incredibly difficult to go through all this. Igor more than once recalled the Japanese anime that he watched several years ago, back in school. "Space Brothers" There, slowly and in detail, over hundreds of episodes, they talked about exams at Jaxu - the Japanese space agency and about the training of astronauts under the NASA program. It was surprisingly interesting to watch. Igor did not even think then that he would find himself in the same position, when the number of candidates was rapidly melting away, and only a few remained who were lucky enough to break through. True, the principle of initial recruitment in Russia is completely different. Only in the twelfth year did Rosskosmos try to conduct an open recruitment and out of three hundred applicants, in the end only seven became cosmonauts. But, apparently, this experiment was considered unsuccessful and they returned to the previous recruitment methods - a thorough preliminary check of candidates at the place of duty. And still, out of seventy pilots, only fifteen were selected. Igor saw how the number of applicants was decreasing. One by one, the pilots dropped out of the race, collected their belongings and left for regiments and air groups to continue serving. Of the three people who moved into this room with Igor, he was the only one left. It was sad to see off my comrades. Especially Ilya Kuramshin, with whom he managed to become friends over these couple of months. The guy failed one of the complex tests when, after a severe physical activity and psychological treatment, it was necessary to pass a physical and mathematical test. I literally didn't get two points. Ilya got ready gloomily, with a frozen face. Limply he extended his hand. Igor squeezed her tightly, to the point of pain. Ilya winced and looked at him in surprise, and Igor said in a firm voice: “You missed the last few meters of takeoff.” I believe that the plane did not crash, but only slid onto a field. Ilya smiled sadly. But Igor had not yet let go of his hand and, looking into his eyes, said: “I will be waiting for you in the next set.” - If I'm not old by then. - You won't have time. Only fifteen of us were recruited. The last recruitment of pilots was ten years ago and most of them have either already left for Earth or will do so soon. And we won't be enough. You know what plans are being adopted and how many people will be needed. And to “Nationalka” and to the Moon. I think they will get there in two or three years. So I'll be waiting for you, friend. Ilya finally answered Igor, squeezing his hand tightly. Then they immediately released their grip and the guy, this time, smiling his usual restrained smile, picked up the bag and headed towards the door. On the threshold he paused and, without looking back, said: “Wait!” Igor smiled at this memory, once again stroked the sleeve of his uniform overalls and left the hostel. It was cold outside. The puddles from yesterday's rain froze and sparkled under the bright morning sun. Clouds of transparent steam escaped from the mouth. But Igor did not speed up his pace. On the contrary, it’s good that you can shake yourself up like this before the meeting. Fortunately, he’s not far away, and he won’t have time to seriously freeze. The hall hit him with a wave of warmth and a hubbub of voices. There were quite a lot of people, there were groups of active cosmonauts in overalls like Igor, specialists in robes, military officials in full dress uniform, and just some civilians. And other newcomers. They were visible at first glance. Even those who tried to look confident and at ease did not particularly succeed in this. Igor approached a short guy standing near a tub with some kind of tropical bush. - Great, Zhora! “And you shouldn’t cough,” responded Georgy Molchanov, a senior lieutenant from the Northern Fleet aviation. He would have become the youngest in the squad if not for Igor. - Are you worried? - I don’t think so! “That’s right,” Igor sighed. At this time, the doors to the hall opened and everyone rushed inside. Igor decided not to push and waited until almost everyone entered the room. He stopped on the threshold. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and stepped forward into his new life.

Chapter 18 . Happy life.

Suginami District, Tokyo, Japan.

Chiiruna, come in from the south down below! - Yes, admirar! Hana's clipper slips between two floating islands, diving into an arch of ruins floating above the ground, and finds itself in a wide area clear of debris, where battle is already in full swing. Dash towards the damaged enemy frigate, launching torpedoes. Right on board! The enemy hides in clouds of fire and disappears. - Ready! - Well done! Chii, help Uberd! - I see! Hana actually sees three enemy ships bearing down on the battleship. “Well, where did he get into, on his slow-moving vehicle! Uberd is always heroic!” The torpedo tube has not yet rolled away. So fire on the left side, maneuver on the right. The torpedoes are ready. Start! Another frigate destroyed. The other two are trying to escape, to hide behind a wooded island floating in the heights. But Uberd and Dalkin, who arrived in time, deal with them. And the point counter is already at its limit. All! Another victory! - Hooray! - a polyphony of exclamations is heard in the headphones. - Well, are we going to separate, or one more time? - No, Admiral, I have to go to work tomorrow, or rather today, - this is Trorvl. Hana was tortured until she learned to pronounce this terrible name. - Hana, how are you there? It's early in the morning, isn't it? - this is the caring voice of Talisa, one of the three, counting Hana, girls of the clan. - Yes. Eight o'clock! - And how do you force yourself to get up at four in the morning to fly with us? - Uberd was surprised once again. - They would never force me to do it! - I'm a lark! - the girl said cheerfully, although even she found it difficult to get up so early. But she got used to it. In recent months, she has gone to bed very early in order to wake up before dawn and fly for a couple of hours before school in her airship and chat with friends who live tens of thousands of kilometers away in a foreign country. The clan was surprisingly friendly, the people included in it lived in various cities of vast Russia and had never met in real life. “If only we could get together somehow!” - the girl thought. Hana joined this group surprisingly easily and naturally. Although, at first, she was terribly embarrassed and, distorting her words, asked for forgiveness for her poor knowledge of the Russian language. As it turned out, I worried in vain. She was greeted very warmly, and after several battles the head of the clan remarked: “You fly excellently!” A real skipper! Just like Chiiruna. - Chiiruna who? - Hana didn’t understand. - This is the girl pilot from the book after which we named the clan. By the way, how about you change your nickname to Chiiruna? It is customary for us to take names from the book. Hana then thought about it and agreed. If only she knew how much trouble this would be! The game "Pirates of Allods" is free, but everything there costs money. For example, changing your nickname. Everything would be fine, but how to transfer rubles from Japan? The head of the guild had to create a WebMoney wallet for Hana and put rubles into it. Hana tried to send Dalkin her honestly saved pocket money in yen, but he flatly refused. But now in the game her name is Chiiruna. All guild members strictly roleplay their characters and never address each other by name during battles. Hana was also worried about roleplaying: “I don’t know Chiirun.” How to gamble? - Don't worry! - Dalkin reassured her. -You look like her. But then read the book. - Yes, I’m already a juicer. Indeed, Hana found these same “Pirates of the Dragon Mountains” on Amazon and bought them. Of course, they were only in Russian. But this is wonderful! She'll have practice! That's what the naive Japanese girl thought. Hana spent four months working on the first book of the trilogy. Constantly dragging words or even entire phrases into the “translator” and trying to understand what the abracadabra it spits out means. But, gradually, she got used to it. The second book took less than two months, and she devoured the third during a month of summer vacation. Hana read the last chapter the day before yesterday. She cried over the ending, which is a huge rarity for her, and decided that Admiral Dalkin was right in offering her the nickname of Chiiruna. Of all the heroines, Hana liked her the most. And, by the way, about the head of the clan, the girl began to have suspicions about his identity. I'll have to try and find out about it sometime. In general, the Russian language was surprisingly easy for the girl. Not at all like this boring English! Or maybe it's all about interest? In live communication on TeamSpeak with real Russians, and absolutely live with coach Anna Pavlovna. How surprised and happy she was when Hana greeted her for the first time, “Zadaravusutuvuyte”! The memory was pleasant. Hana stretched and looked at her watch. Almost nine. It's time to get ready for morning training. Now during the holidays classes were held every day, or even twice. Of course, not all girls could maintain such a pace, but Hana - it was easy! Moreover, she did not have to go to extra classes at school, and she completed her homework in three days. Studying in the first grade of high school was surprisingly easy. It would seem that sports and long hours at the computer, and get-togethers with girlfriends should have had a detrimental effect on academic performance. But no! All subjects, especially precise ones, were learned instantly and firmly. The father even grumbled that he should have entered not a municipal school, but some elite one, especially since he did not mind the money for his beloved daughter’s education. He even offered to transfer. But Hana became stubborn. She liked the new school, she quickly found friends there, especially since half of the children were from her old school. But for the future she promised that high school he and his father will choose something more serious. But it's not soon yet. For three years you can live a carefree and very fun life!

Chapter 19. Expert.

Bad Vihar, Delhi, India.

Which? “This one, third from the right,” the elderly computer science teacher pointed to an old but clean computer. “It would be better to do an upgrade than to wash it!” - Kieran muttered to himself. The boy was not in a great mood. He was pulled out of recess and not allowed to play with his classmates on school yard . Moreover, the next lesson was Russian, and Kieran didn’t want to be late for it. No, it’s not a matter of love for the “great and mighty.” The boy just really liked the teacher - a young guy with light brown hair and a short beard of the same color. The teacher's name was Yuri Mukherjee. He said to himself that his mother was Russian and his father brought her from Voronezh, where he studied at the university. In general, he talked a lot and interestingly about Russia, which he himself traveled through when he was an exchange student there, and just various interesting stories. Because of this, Kieran looked forward to every lesson. They were like sparkling jewels among the dull pebbles of other activities. How good it is that dad insisted on speaking Russian! The Salanki school had a very good selection of foreign languages: German, Italian, Farsi and Russian. Kieran, who started learning French at his old school, had to change his language anyway. And dad wrote it down in Russian. “Then, when you study, graduate from college or institute, you will become an engineer,” he explained to his son, “and maybe get a job at one of the joint ventures.” There are a lot of them opening now. And there the salaries are high, and the equipment is the most modern. Kieran didn't look that far. It’s a shame it won’t happen anytime soon. Ten years from now. Count it as long as he has lived so far. In the meantime, you can just listen to the interesting stories of your favorite teacher and imagine a huge, cold northern country. But that would come later—now a sick man was waiting for him. - Well, what happened to you? - the boy asked softly, sitting down in front of the monitor. He pressed the button, listened to the whirring fans, noticed that one was rattling loudly, looked at the flashing white lines on a black background and stared at the “blue screen of death.” - OK. Kieran restarted the computer, entered the BIOS and began poking around. “Teacher, Dalarma,” he turned to the teacher who sat down on the next chair. -You still don’t turn on the air conditioning here? - You know the decision of the school council. Children should not live in hothouse conditions. - Greenhouse?! - the boy found fault with the word. - So this is a greenhouse here! Greenhouse! Okay, we won’t melt, and our brains won’t evaporate. Why should computers suffer? You see, this one's cooling is bad, and in this heat it overheated the processor! - This is serious? - the teacher was worried. “Not really,” Kieran softened. - But when it malfunctioned, it damaged the system. We need to reinstall it. Also, call a technician and let him clean the fans or even change them! Yes, and on other computers too. And be sure to turn on the air conditioning! Tell the council that without this you will soon have to buy new computers! “Eh,” the elderly teacher sighed, “okay, I’ll say it.” And Kieran took out three flash drives from the breast pocket of the jacket in which he had to steam, examined them meticulously and put them in a row in front of him. “Well, we’ll treat you,” he even addressed the computer with some tenderness. The teacher leaned back in his chair, watching the eighth-grader's deft manipulations. Of course, it was a little offensive that this puny eleven-year-old boy knew better computers than he did, but what can you do? Kiran is truly unique. Plus he's a very good guy. He never refuses to help, especially when it comes to a computer. “Uh-oh, Kieran is stuck...” came from the door. In its opening are three disheveled boyish heads. - Yeah! - Kieran responded either upset or on the contrary joyfully. - Play without me! - It’s not interesting without you, the “bashniks” will take us out. Okay, don't be late for class. Yuri promised to continue telling how he hitchhiked to Lake Baikal. “I’ll try,” Kieran responded, quickly exchanging one flash drive for another. - I’ll start the system installation and come running!

Chapter 20. Dreams are like stars.

Yalta, Republic of Crimea.

Chapter 21. The end and the beginning.

The Russian segment of the ISS and the planet below it.

Sasha, I see you! “Don’t pollute the airwaves,” a stern voice from the MCC. Andrei defiantly covered his mouth with his hand and waved his free hand out the window, behind which a clumsy, bulky figure in a spacesuit could be seen. Alexander grinned. Whatever you say, he got a good crew. Peter is serious and reliable. Completely different from the computer hackers they are portrayed as in the movies. And Andrey, cheerful and always ready to defuse a tense situation. With such guys you can fly not just for two and a half months, but even for a whole year. But the flight time of Expedition ISS-63/64 is coming to an end. Time of the last expedition to the ISS. Alexander continued to carefully examine the docking station. Soon it will open, and the bulk of the ISS will float away into the distance. In the summer of the seventeenth, Alexander was the commander of the crew that was the first to fly to the Russian segment of the station after the breakup of the joint program. With his expedition, the independent life of the Russian segment began. And this flight will complete it. - Petya, how are you? - the commander inquired. “Everything is fine,” the astronaut answered calmly. - Now there is absolutely nothing connecting us with the rest of the station. Our computer is ready for completely autonomous operation. I double-checked the Progress control circuits five times. So we can even now board the Soyuz and fly away. “No, we can’t now,” Andrey sighed and looked at his watch. Another three hours of sitting on suitcases. “Control center,” Alexander raised his voice. - I propose to go to the descent vehicle and carry out an additional check of the systems in the remaining time. “We allow it,” came from the speakers after a short pause. “It would be better if we were idle,” Andrey grumbled. “Time flies faster while working,” the commander explained. - Well, let's say goodbye to the station. - Wait a minute! There is one more thing. Alexander and Peter looked in surprise at Andrey, who swam towards the completely closed hatch leading to the American part of the ISS. Having flown up to him, the astronaut took some kind of metal rod out of his pocket and began to knock on the metal. - What are you doing? - the commander became worried. - Don’t bother me, I don’t know Morse code very well. Tradition. - So there is an intercom? True, through the Mission Control Center and NASA, but you can also talk with colleagues. - No, that's not right! Didn’t Tolik tell you how we used Morse code to tell horror stories to Americans? “Told me,” Peter smiled. -What are you tapping? - Farewell message. Like, happy to stay at your antediluvian station. Come and visit NOX, and stuff like that. “I can imagine the commotion they’re in right now,” muttered the commander. And in confirmation of his words, a voice was heard from Earth: “What’s going on there?” Americans are worried. Strange sounds are heard from the gateway. - Everything is fine. Andrey taps the fastening in order to determine faults, - Alexander found something to answer. Nonsense, of course - in the MCC everyone sees and hears. “Eh, they don’t have John in the crew, he would answer me,” Andrey sighed. - Apparently, none of these know Morse code. Okay, let's go to the Soyuz. And the cosmonauts, in single file, pushing off the walls and grabbing the handrails, headed to the docking port of the Pirs module, where the ship was waiting for them, ready to deliver them to their home planet. Three hours later, they undocked and began to slowly move away from the giant station. They were a kilometer away when the mechanisms controlled from the Earth worked, and the entire Russian segment - a quarter of the station - separated from the rest of the structure, floated to the side and, slowly accelerated by the orientation engines of the Progress docked to it, went into another orbit. More convenient for new owners. “It’s still a bit of a pity,” Andrey sighed. - We've flown so much on it, and we'll fly again. “What can you do,” said Alexander. - We don't need two orbital stations. Yes, and don’t pull it. You see for yourself, you have to go from expedition to expedition, almost without rest. There are not enough astronauts. - Yes, we’d better teach the newbies as soon as possible. But, I also have a chance to fly to the “National” before retirement! “And besides, the station will still be flying,” Peter also said. Maybe not with our cosmonauts. “Well, we’ll train the Indians for two flights,” Andrey responded. - By the way, Tolik will go on the first flight with them. “Yes,” the commander summed up. - In fact, everything is correct and good. And we don’t have to be torn between two stations, and India has a wonderful space home. They are thrifty, they will be able to support it for ten years until they launch their station. “And even Americans are fine with Europeans,” supported Peter. Now they are completely masters of the ISS. “Only I feel sorry for the Japs,” Andrei said. - Their samurai pride does not allow them to fly with the amers, but when they raise their own station. So their “Kibo” still sticks out sealed on the ISS. “Well, they took up space so eagerly,” the commander smiled. - I think in two or three years they will have a house in orbit. The astronauts fell silent, looking at the ever-shrinking ISS and “Vriddhi” - this is the name of the station sold to India. And then their gaze involuntarily slid to their home planet, spread out below them, hospitably welcoming their children. There, on the green and blue planet, seven and a half billion people live. With your desires, aspirations and dreams. Some have already found their way, while others are just looking for it. The bank of a taiga river. Igor Mysskin stirred the fire. Just right. The firewood is burnt out, and dry heat comes from the coals. He carefully placed twigs with fish strung on them over the makeshift brazier. Zhora caught eight rather large chebaks, proudly gave them to the fireman on duty - that is, Igor, and with a sense of accomplishment he climbed into the hut made from a parachute. Never mind, now the smell of baked fish will smell and everyone will join in! The bushes rustled. Ashot came out into the clearing. With an artificially enhanced Caucasian accent, he became indignant: - Well, what kind of wild animal is this, right? Ne wants to get into the snare with his paw! He wants to eat the bait, but he doesn’t get caught! - Is it empty again? - Igor sympathized. - Yeah. Ashot sat down near the fire and winced: “Fish again?” - Well, excuse me, you are our hunter! - I'm not a hunter. If only I had a gun! - Is it weak with onions? - What do you think I am, an Indian? Yesterday I tried to shoot a hare. I just lost my arrows in vain. No, tell me, why weren’t they at least giving us a gun to survive? - Maybe you should also bring in your SU-34, with bombs? - That would be nice. Throw off the thermobaric and go collect the already fried animals. “You’re cruel and not romantic,” Zhora said. - And in general, there is no need to criticize my fish. Thanks to her, we have been feeding for three days! Igor smiled and turned the chebaks over. He enjoyed life. Survival training? Yes, as much as you like! After endless lectures, tests, centrifuges and bullying from doctors, being with friends in nature is wonderful! A pleasant pause in the intense, minute-by-minute schedule of general space training. Just swing an ax, arrange your home, fry fresh, incredibly delicious-smelling fish over the fire... - One hundred and ninety-eight! Swing - strike! - One hundred and ninety-nine. Swing - strike! - Two hundred! I threw a bamboo sword on the sofa, shook my hands, driving away fatigue, and reached for the textolite blade. The guys from the dojo gave it to me. They ordered it from some craftsman who makes weapons for role players. The katana turned out to be quite good, almost as heavy as a real one. Just right for training. Of course, it would be cooler with a steel blade, but you have to know when to limit your desires! Ha ha ha, just enough. Am I saying this after winning second place in physics in Crimea? After the kendo championship in Podolsk? And after you set yourself an incredibly high goal? Well, not prohibitively - let's say, several hundred thousand, or millions of kilometers from Earth. No, I'm definitely crazy! Okay, let's go. Keep your legs wider, bend your knees slightly, and tense up. The katana blade is at the hip, and... I explode with a series of blows and movements, clearly recording the final attack. Still, Iaido is more beautiful than Kendo and much more practical. I just really like it! It’s just a pity that you can’t do much with it at home. Even though we have high ceilings, I touched the chandelier three times. The last time was very good. Grandma grumbled, and grandfather removed the debris and hung a flat lamp with fluorescent lamps. So now you can swing your sword almost without fear. So, I’ll wave my sword for another five minutes and I’ll be done with my studies. Physics and mathematics are great, but I still need to take Russian and history. That is, in any case, they will take me to the tenth grade, but I want to make it to the excellent students! "Hello!" "You too! How was your day?" “Good! Yuri praised me for translating the text about Moscow. And then we played football with the guys!” "You're lucky! And I'm sitting here, buzzing." “Okay, don’t be sour! Do you want me to play chess with you?” “Of course I want to! You’ll see, today I’ll beat you!” “It’s unlikely.” “Check it out. I know how quickly I learn!” “I know, I know. Okay, start the game.” The dialog box moved to the side, and a chessboard appeared on the screen. Compy really learns quickly, it’s not in vain that Kiran spends so much time developing self-learning algorithms. Now he can not only talk freely with his pet, even on abstract topics, but also slowly teach him more complex things. But Kieran himself is learning! I wonder, after all, which of them, the living boy or his computer, will win today? The copter flew into the half-open window at full speed, made a dashing turn, without stopping, flew over the table, picked up a box of pencils and slid out into the street. Hana, without letting go of the remote control, jumped to the window and sat down on the windowsill. She guided a small flying machine between electrical wires, skimmed ten centimeters above the roof of a neighboring house, lifted the device high into the sky and stopped the propellers. The silvery four-propeller flyer froze above and began to fall towards the ground. About five meters away, Hana turned on the engines again and braked just above the path leading to the gate. She dropped the box into the center of the chalk circle. - What else could you come up with? - the girl thoughtfully twirled a strand of black straight hair around her index finger. Her father gave her this toy two months ago. Hana graduated from her first year of high school first in the ranking and honestly earned a promotion. Managing the little one aircraft captivated the girl. It was even more interesting than controlling different tanks and planes in computer games. She even abandoned all the simulators she loved so much for a while. Well, except for “Pirates,” but she played them not for the sake of flying on airships, but because she really liked communicating with her guildmates. And so, learning to fly a copter is much more fun! Only, in two months she achieved such mastery that it became difficult to come up with new, more difficult tasks. I was also very disappointed by the limited capabilities of this toy. I wish I could manage something more serious. Something real and incredibly complex! These young inhabitants of planet Earth have a long, interesting life ahead of them. Who knows where the roads of fate will lead them, and where they are destined to meet?

There are about 300 species of octopuses in total and they are all truly amazing creatures. They live in subtropical and tropical seas and oceans, from shallow waters to a depth of 200 m. They prefer rocky shores and are considered the most intelligent among all invertebrates. The more scientists learn about octopuses, the more they admire them.

1. An octopus's brain is donut-shaped.

2. The octopus does not have a single bone, this allows it to penetrate into a hole that is 4 times smaller than its own size.

3. Due to the large amount of copper, octopus blood is blue.

4. The tentacles contain more than 10,000 taste buds.

5. Octopuses have three hearts. One of them drives blue blood throughout the body, and the other two carry it through the gills.

6. In case of danger, octopuses, like lizards, are able to throw away their tentacles, breaking them on their own.

7. Octopuses camouflage themselves with their environment by changing their color. When calm they are brown, when frightened they turn white, and when angry they acquire a reddish tint.

8. To hide from enemies, octopuses emit a cloud of ink; it not only reduces visibility, but also masks odors.

9. Octopuses breathe through gills, but can also spend quite a long time out of water.

10. Octopuses have rectangular pupils.

11. Octopuses always keep their home clean; they “sweep” it with a stream of water from their funnel, and put the remaining food in a specially designated place nearby.

12. Octopuses are intelligent invertebrates that can be trained, remember their owners, recognize shapes and have an amazing ability to unscrew jars.

13. Speaking about the unsurpassed intelligence of octopuses, we can recall the world-famous octopus-oracle Paul, who guessed the outcome of matches involving the German football team. Actually, he lived in the Oberhausen Aquarium. Paul died, as oceanologists suggest, of natural causes. There was even a monument erected to him at the entrance to the aquarium.

14. The personal life of sea creatures is not very happy. Males often become victims of females, and they, in turn, rarely survive after childbirth and doom their offspring to an orphaned life.

15. There is only one species of octopus - the Pacific striped one, which, unlike its fellows, is an exemplary family man. He lives in a couple for several months and throughout this time he performs something very similar to a kiss, touching his mouth with his other half. After the birth of the offspring, the mother spends more than one month with the children, taking care of them and raising them.

16. This same Pacific striped fish boasts an unusual hunting style. Before the attack, he lightly pats his victim “on the shoulder,” as if warning, but this does not increase his chances of survival, so the purpose of the habit still remains a mystery.

17. During reproduction, males use their tentacles to remove spermatophores “from behind the sinus” and carefully place them in the mantle cavity of the female.

18. On average, octopuses live 1-2 years; those who live up to 4 years are long-livers.

19. The smallest octopuses grow up to only 1 centimeter, and the largest up to 4 meters. The largest octopus was caught off the coast of the United States in 1945, its weight was 180 kg and its length was as much as 8 meters.

20. Scientists managed to decipher the octopus genome. In the future, this will help establish how they managed to evolve into such an intelligent creature and understand the origin of amazing cognitive abilities. At the moment, it is known that the length of the octopus genome is 2.7 billion base pairs, it is almost equal to length the human genome, which has 3 billion base pairs.

Dmitry Ilyich Eremin is now 52 years old, we have known him since our tourist youth, but, perhaps, we got to know each other best during an expedition to the so-called M triangle, an anomalous zone near the village of Molebka in the Perm region. It was in the summer of 1991, when a large detachment of Volgograd researchers and television crews arrived in two powerful Urals rented from the military to draw their own conclusions about extraterrestrial activity in this section of the deep taiga. I remember there were a lot of visiting people there, and that’s probably why nothing special happened in the “zone.” True, two of our team initially saw the famous “cartoons” - color images that someone transmitted directly to people’s brains, but this method of transmitting information did not receive encouraging development then. One of the “experimental subjects” was Eremin.

He reminded me that he visited the M zone twice. Once at the beginning of May, and the second time with us and the television crew already in July. In May, four of their group were shown exactly the same plot.

We saw a dark blue sea, a gigantic wall more than a hundred meters high, made of large stone blocks, which played the role of a protective pier from the water elements, recalled Dmitry Ilyich. - Three large white ships of unusual design were sailing across the sea. From them we guessed that they were showing us, most likely, another planet. The ships were egg-shaped with a gently rising deck in front and a steep drop off towards the stern. Judging by the portholes, the ships had five or six decks. The vision lasted no more than three minutes. That's it, the influence of the “zone” ended.

And then there was our summer trip. And there, on the very first evening, Eremin saw a new “cartoon”. He wisely kept silent about it, but a week and a half later he still told about an unsuccessful contact with a certain alien.

Then I was confused that the alien was black,” said Dmitry Ilyich. - The proportions of the face and body are normal, the nose and lips are not like those of the Negroid race, but the skin is dark and shiny. A man was sitting on something and looking straight at me. He was completely bald, dressed in some kind of overalls; when he blinked, it was clear that his eyelids were translucent. And we were warned before the trip that if the visions were against a dark background, then this was apparently contact from dark civilizations. There is no point in developing it, they say. This was the level of our knowledge then. The black man naturally frightened me, and I mentally began to reject him. He sat, waited and waited for me to come to my senses, and then disappeared along with the picture. Then, although I tried to evoke the vision again, the result was zero.

And now about ten years have passed... Eremin was already living in Ukraine at that time, in one of the villages of the Donetsk region. The obscure changes in our countries have hit their family hard. Due to unemployment, two years ago, first his wife, and then her daughter, who is not Dmitry’s own, left to work in Italy. Dmitry Ilyich also enlisted in some construction company in Moscow and was waiting for a call to work. The family was considered a social unit only conditionally. Hence the corresponding mood. Filthy, in a word.

Meeting with aliens

The end of April 2000, before May Day, turned out to be warm, and for Dmitry it was also stupefyingly free from all sorts of worries. There is no family, no call from Moscow, although the mood is already quite normal. In the morning, out of nothing to do, I went to a huge ravine on the edge of the village, taking two cans of Pepsi-Cola for the road. I wouldn’t say that I was too drawn to it, it was just something to occupy my time.

He walked along the stream, using a twig to help the empty can, which sometimes got stuck on rocks and in the twists of the current.

“Suddenly I raise my head - two people are sitting on stone boulders in front of me,” Dmitry recalled his first impressions of the unexpected meeting. “Ten meters from them...,” Dima looks inquisitively at me, anticipating the reaction, “you are, perhaps, more prepared than others... In general, there is an egg-shaped apparatus on two, with wide ribbed dimples, supports. The other two supports are not visible to me due to the low landing of the device. There is a third person standing in the open semi-oval door. And everyone is black! I immediately remembered the Perm zone... I even tried to determine which of them I saw there in the “cartoons”, but they all looked the same. My first reaction: “Well, no shit! So we waited...” But the fact is that one day they told me that I would never have encounters with a UFO. "So much for fortune telling..."

According to Eremin’s description, the device was a typical “flying saucer” eight to nine meters in diameter and three and a half meters high. The color was silver, along the edge there was a wide dark stripe, which, as it turned out, covered rectangular windows with rounded edges.

The alien standing in the doorway was dressed in a tight-fitting steel-colored jumpsuit with a smooth, stiff blue collar around the neck. There were no other details of clothing, only a bulge in the form of an elongated pocket was visible on the side of the trousers. “The proportions of the body are normal, the height is slightly shorter than mine - about 170 centimeters,” my guest clarified.

Those sitting on the stones were dressed just like earthlings: blue trousers, loose, not tight-fitting to the body, blue jackets without collars, like turtlenecks, high boots with heels. All are completely bald and without any signs of stubble on their faces.

Apparently, they were waiting for me,” Dmitry said, “but they looked quite friendly, and I suppressed my fear. Immediately, an image of the device’s door appeared in my brain and, as it were, a sentence: this way or that way, your choice. Remembering Molebka, I decided to go inside. He climbed a ladder of six steps, the base of which was the door of the “plate”. The ladder sagged slightly under the weight of my body.

Having risen almost to the edge of the “plate,” Eremin saw in front of him a matte wall and a narrow corridor in both directions. Along the top of the wall there were strips that provided light. Two steps down and a step to the right, and Dmitry found himself in a small room with remote controls and four chairs. Two chairs stood in front of rectangular screens and rows of buttons on a small tabletop, two were in the back, seemingly for passengers. In front of the chairs there were windows that started from the knees and went to the ceiling: two wide, more than one and a half meters high, two narrow, on the side. The chairs themselves resembled an egg with a cutout, smooth but not metal, coffee-colored, with low armrests. When the pilots sat in the front row of seats, two devices extended from the armrests directly under the arms, each with four buttons, like joysticks. In the room, the colors and design in general are made in the best, according to human standards, traditions - nothing sticky, everything is comfortable and pleasing to the eye. The rounded wall at the back indicated that there was most likely a propulsion system located there. Eremin's guess was soon confirmed.

Alien planet

We sat down in chairs, and the conversation immediately began,” Dmitry continued his story. - Well, not really a conversation, since it was conducted not verbally, but with the help of images that arose in my head. Although they communicated with each other in some language. I memorized some words. For example, “sai” - something rude, warlike - “solvercar” and also “otelstan” or “hotelstan”. I don't know the meaning of the words.
At first, the conversation concerned Eremin’s technical preparedness. They showed him how he repairs televisions, tape recorders... The thought clearly emerged: “If we show you this and that, will you be able to do it?” Dima expressed interest in the proposal and in turn asked: “Why me?” The answer was in the sense that it doesn’t matter, but simply - it’s time! You, they say, have technical knowledge, you are a practitioner, and perhaps you will be able to guess the operating principles of the engine that we will show you. People will need this very soon.
Dmitry couldn’t help but ask: “Were you near Perm?” The answer was: “Yes!” - and then a question from them: “What is your attitude to the M zone?” Eremin explained that he was convinced that it worked, but how exactly he could not understand. He spoke out loud, in short sentences. Apparently, they read something from his head, because as soon as he began to mentally construct something, he was shown in the images of a rushing man and the phrase arose: “You are wandering, you are confused. It is better to speak in words.”
It must be said that Eremin, without having a higher education, was really well versed in various types of equipment and was a jack of all trades. At the Volzhsky synthetic fiber plant, he once worked in the instrumentation and control shop, dealt with the finest instruments, could turn any part on a machine, was in good standing as an innovator, developed an interesting design for a tourist catamaran for river rafting and even tried to patent it. Businessmen from abroad showed interest in the design. In a word, he was a kind of nugget craftsman.
But before he was shown the propulsion system, there was a long and interesting demonstration of an unfamiliar planet. Perhaps by doing this the aliens relieved fear and tension from their either guest or captive.
“I realized that they know our planet and its problems well,” said Dmitry. - That’s probably why they showed theirs in detail. They consist of ocean, land makes up only 4.5 percent of the total surface. True, their planet is apparently much larger than the Earth, so the land area is not so small, it is located in the form of islands. Previously, there was more land, but in prehistoric times some kind of cataclysm occurred, and almost all the land went under water. Few were saved - only those who lived in elevated areas and those who were sailing on ships at that time. The new civilization dates back several tens or even hundreds of thousands of years, but they do not consider themselves a supercivilization, but consider themselves to be a highly developed community. They did not give the name of their planet and its coordinates in the Universe. I also didn't think to ask them about the population.
The aliens make up for the lack of land by building underwater cities of various designs. There are those that are located on shelves, closed with caps, with buildings inside, and others in the form of floating islands, with multi-story structures. The depths in the oceans are such that not all have been fully explored. They are forced to protect the land islands with huge stone walls in order to protect them from terrible raging storms, which have no barriers. That's where it's from stone walls in those first visions in the M triangle!
In terms of its atmosphere and water composition, the planet is apparently close to Earth’s. The sky is blue, clouds are over the sea, the sun, however, was not shown to him. However, they have less oxygen, and the aliens said so. At the same time, during a conversation, they often brought small boxes with a mouthpiece to their faces and breathed through it for a minute and a half.
“I realized that they had learned to control earthquakes,” said Dmitry Ilyich. - Using vibrations, they can shift the epicenter of an earthquake to safe places, away from land. Nature on their land is sparse; I saw little greenery. But in the ocean there is an abundance of algae and all kinds of thickets. They have sea ​​elements there are more cephalopods - crabs, octopuses, which have the rudiments of intelligence and cooperate with people.
“I saw women there,” said Dmitry Ilyich. - They are very beautiful. Yes, the skin color is black, but everyone is beautifully built, graceful...
He was informed that they raise children in families and feed them with mother's milk for the first six months. “We believe that a child should have attachment to his parents, although, of course, we could raise children in incubation conditions. But this is worse.”
Their civilization explores not only near, but also deep space. “As far as I understand, ordinary devices are used for this, similar to the one in which our conversation took place,” noted Eremin. “They showed me how a gravitational field is created around the ship, like a capsule. This separates the device from the material world, and then the ship can move at any acceleration anywhere. The main thing in flight is the gravitational engine."
“Why did you choose the shape of a plate for the devices?” - Eremin asked at some point.
“Any device that operates on gravity must be similar to a natural gravitational system,” came the answer. “And a natural one is a planetary system. That’s why planets are shaped like flattened balls.” -
Now I know that if something round is flying,” Dmitry told me, “it means clearly: there is a gravitational engine there.” When I asked whether the military was developing terrestrial “flying saucers,” there was a short answer: “Such work is underway, but there are no flights yet.” I didn’t understand which military they were talking about. Maybe about ours, or maybe about the Americans.

Propulsion system

And yet, the main thing in this meeting was not information about the distant alien planet. It went along the way. The main thing, I think, was the demonstration of the propulsion system. This happened at the very end of the conversation, which lasted about an hour and a half. Dmitry Ilyich was asked to get up from his chair and an oval hatch was opened behind the chairs, into which a person could crawl if desired.
“I saw part of a circle, an arc, and on this arc there was a knob,” said Eremin. - I guessed that it was the coil winding. I realized that there should be three of these windings on the ring. If there were four of them, then in the sector that was visible to the eye, this coil would be visible. So, there are still three... I wanted to look at the device in more detail, but they closed the hatch:
"Then you'll guess..."
“And really, it hit me like lightning,” Dmitry breathed out. - I guessed! I guessed what and how it could be arranged there. Probably, they were just testing my intelligence, so they didn’t give me the principle of movement. They just showed figuratively how something is sucked inside the ring - apparently a gravitational field.
- But why do we need to know this? - I asked a natural question to my interlocutor. - Maybe this corresponds to some of their interests, and not ours?
“No, I was convinced of their goodwill towards people,” Dmitry objected. - They are not afraid of our aggressiveness, our unpredictability. They've been through it all. I realized that they don’t need our Earth, they love their home planet. Moreover, from their hints, I understood that the “gray” civilization from the Zeta Network is much less humane in relation to earthlings. “We ask the consent of earthlings when we want to know or offer something to you,” the aliens explained, “and the “grays” carry out their experiments on you without notice. Like with guinea pigs.” And that says it all... They also said that the “grays” are too self-confident. “They took on an excessive function: to influence the gene pool of humanity...” -
Then why do we need an engine, why did the word “it’s time” sound?
- They showed me a huge structure that floats in the sky. This is a multi-deck, egg-shaped structure, and in the middle there is a gravity installation,” explained Eremin. - This ship is not designed for long flights, it just needs to rise above the surface. You can escape on it. “Very soon the earthlings will need this,” it settled in my mind. “It looks like some kind of cataclysm is coming to our planet.”
- Yes, there are reports of a possible collision with a huge asteroid or the passage of the mysterious twelfth planet in the ecliptic of the Solar System. There may be a change in the inclination of the Earth's rotation axis... - I confirmed, - More frequent earthquakes and hurricanes are one of the signs of such a situation.
“No, it looks like it’s not a matter of an asteroid or a planet,” Eremin objected. - The cataclysm that threatens us comes from within the Earth. Its core is heating up, glaciers will soon begin to melt... Something is connected with this. We believe that the greenhouse effect develops due to excess carbon dioxide, but it turns out that the heating comes from within.
- So what - we have to make such huge ships?
- No, we won’t have time to create them for the entire population of the Earth. But we must and can save part of the accumulated knowledge, literature, inventions, and all kinds of information carriers if we do not classify information about gravitational engines. They clearly showed that the media, technical laboratories, and institutes should be involved - as long as work begins in the right direction. Maybe it’s not without reason that I came to you: I’m asking you to help me reach authoritative engineering circles or serious press publications.
- What happened next? - I asked.
- Next?.. They made me understand that that’s enough... “Will we meet again?” - I asked. “It will depend on how you are able to cope with this problem...” - stuck in my head.
The earthling got up and walked out onto the ramp. No one shook hands with him, there were no other emotions accepted at parting. “Move away, it’s dangerous to be close,” he translated the last picture in his brain. His request to fly a little in the alien apparatus was met with a firm refusal. True, Dmitry later admitted that during the conversation, as if in reproach, he was shown one ugly scene from his life: very drunk, he had a row with his wife, shouted and swung at her. “Don’t stoop so low,” came the verbal translation.

The ordeal of a Russian inventor

“I moved back to the same thirty meters where I stood before,” Eremin continued his story. - I looked at the dial: about an hour and a half had passed. The oval door closed, and I didn’t even see any seam along the side. From the picture in my head I realized that I needed to move even further away.
I watched the ship carefully. Sparks ran along the black, one and a half meter diameter, bottom of the “plate”, which then merged into a blue glow, as if from a fluorescent lamp. The ship rose low, without going above the beam, as if not wanting to reveal itself. The device was enveloped in a yellow spherical fog with blue in the middle, and then - whew - in one and a half seconds it disappeared high in the sky. There was no pop or any other sound, although the speed was clearly supersonic.
“I walked back inspired,” Eremin recalled. - The engine was generally clear, and I wanted to start working on the model right away. I wanted to tell my friends about this incident. But then I suddenly thought: who should I tell here? Who will believe? Everyone is busy with their own things, barely surviving, embittered, drinking out of despair... Who needs all this? Well, in the eyes of the majority, I will remain a local idiot, even though I repaired many TVs here...
I assembled the model on a ferrite ring with a diameter of 12 centimeters. However, a generator was needed to alternately read all three windings with a high pulsation frequency. Eremin, naturally, did not have such a generator... But for some reason his confidence that the structure would take off grew stronger. And then soon a call came from Moscow to work, and D.I. Eremin left for the capital. He enclosed his invention in hollow aluminum hemispheres, borrowing them from street lamps.
“In Moscow, the idea of ​​introducing one of the specialists to the principles of engine operation, and most importantly, testing it using a generator, did not leave me for an hour,” said Eremin. - In the departmental hotel-dormitory where I lived, there were, naturally, no conditions, no acquaintances either... In general, I went to the Ministry of Defense, there, on the embankment, not far from the Kremlin. At first I was advised to contact the inventions department.
This was in September last year. The major came out to Eremin. Probably, the sight of Dmitry Ilyich with an aluminum piece of iron in a plastic bag did not inspire confidence in the officer. Dima does not wear white shirts with a tie, he dresses very simply, unpresentably, and under his nails the ingrained blackness from metal and oils will probably never disappear. Well, he’s not eloquent in conversation, he’s even too simple-minded. He knew that under no circumstances should he talk about aliens here. Therefore, I adhered to the chosen version, they say, I came up with such a design myself. “Just give me a generator, put me in touch with specialists...” he persuaded. And yet, at some point, Dmitry Ilyich let it slip - the alien ship was mentioned as an argument for a flying object. That's all! The officer grew bored and was apparently only thinking about how to get rid of the visitor. True, he gave me the phone number of the weapons department in Mytishchi. “They’ll sort it out there,” he said finally.
Eremin called and arranged a meeting. Of course, not a word about aliens. Communication with a certain captain named Volodya went no further than the checkpoint. True, he was at least interested in trying out the contraption at work. Together with Dmitry, they went somewhere to Pushkino, where the captain had a garage, and it contained a variety of equipment. There was no generator there. We agreed that Dmitry would call in three days, during which time the weapons department would come up with something. He gave his model to the officer.
As agreed, Eremin called three days later. He was informed with apologies that, they say, there was a problem with the device. The windings were fed with a three-phase current of 380 volts, and it... took off, almost breaking through the ceiling, but at the same time everything there burned out. “No, wow, they thought of it! Three-phase current!” Dmitry was indignant. “I told them about a pulsating current at a low voltage...”
-Are you sure they burned it? - I asked. - Did they show you the burnt model?
- N-no... But Volodya, this captain, described it so colorfully, apologized... People there seem to be serious, they wear shoulder straps, how can you not believe it? True, they are probably stupid... I tell them, give me ferrite, wires for the windings, I will assemble the installation for you in half a day, you don’t even need to solder anything, you can do it with strands. A generator and a smart specialist - that's all! No, he says, we have nothing, the other day, they say, even the last vice was stolen. Apparently, they are all in shambles...
But I don’t believe that there are only stupid people left among the military. There are two options: either Eremin’s grav-cart was really burned down, or they decided to pocket his idea. Which, however, also says a lot about the level of officer honor in modern Russia.
- Do you know their names, surnames, telephone numbers? - I ask Dmitry Ilyich.
- Yes, the phone numbers are still there, there are some last names, but I know some people, say, that last captain, only by name. And I only said my first and middle name about myself, but didn’t give an address, I don’t have a phone number at all. I thought it would be better for everyone if we communicated without last names. “And then, look, they’ll kill you somewhere,” he joked. - Yes, I don’t have a complaint if they decided to pocket the idea. It’s more important to me that it be tested so that industrial installations can begin to be created. We have little time left, they said...
- Why did you remember me? - I’m interested, although I’m already wondering where Eremin should be sent, who should be involved in testing the gravitational plane...
“Well, I was told: either use serious engineering structures, or through the media... It turns out that the turn has come for journalists to get involved and tell about everything,” Dmitry turned serious. - But how are you going to describe the “flying saucer”? After all, they will immediately suspect the “schizo”... Maybe we can somehow manage without the aliens? Although... I told you honestly, as if in spirit. Maybe others will believe it too?
Eremin left me every other day, taking the necessary addresses, names and telephone numbers in Moscow and St. Petersburg. Of course, I called my friends and recommended that they take a closer look at the inventor. Now I will watch the events, and if the hopes for the gravity flight come true, readers will learn about the continuation of the story.

As you know, in science there is nothing more practical than a correct theory. Of course, the creation of such a theory is the province of geniuses. Classic examples are D. Mendeleev’s periodic system of elements and N. Semenov’s theory of chain reactions. The absence of such a theory in the field of psycho-social phenomena is what causes the deplorable state modern science in this area and, as a consequence, ignorance of the nature of man and society. Perhaps the most thorough attempt systematic approach to the development of such a theory was presented in the work of V. Shmakov in the early 1920s (1). However, for a number of reasons, this brilliant Russian thinker was blacklisted, and his works were banned in Russia as contrary to Marxism-Leninism (2). Only since 1994, thanks to the Kyiv publishing house "Sofia", the books of this philosopher have become publicly available. “No matter how absurd the idea is that the manifestations of human activity and human communities are phenomenally hovering in some unknown area, it will still continue to directly or indirectly exert its harmful influence,” this remark of V. Shmakov remains valid in our time .

Based on the law of synarchy he formulated, V. Shmakov substantiated the antinomic nature of human nature - it is both noumenal and phenomenal. Human life simultaneously flows according to the laws of the phenomenal environment and according to the laws of the noumenal world. In other words, life is the result of the relationship of the individual with the phenomenal and noumenal worlds. This is the main antinomy of the human being, realized in his consciousness. In an ideally perfect cosmos, the phenomenal world is completely and organically conjugated with the noumenal, and therefore their hierarchies are consistent with each other and harmoniously united in a realized synarchy. We live in a world that only strives for this state, as for some infinitely distant entelechy. Potentially uniting both of these poles of being in his being, a person must actually and organically match the links of the antinomic hierarchies of the universe. This ultimate goal cannot be achieved at all, but every person must endure the world tragedy within himself as much as he is given the strength to do so.

The results of a thorough study of the conjugacy of the noumenal hierarchy of monads and the phenomenal hierarchy of sets in the life of the cosmos allowed V. Shmakov to draw a number of conclusions, the relevance of which seems undoubted. Let's look at them briefly. The idea of ​​multitude is organically connected with the idea of ​​personality. Only such a set is organic, which has a known personality, i.e. all its elements are connected by some general law, subject to some synthetic idea. Personality is the phenomenal analogue of noumenal individuality, which is the entelechy of personality. The personality itself does not have an independent substantial justification and draws its existence from individuality directly and through multitudes. Since the personality of every phenomenal organism simultaneously participates in the noumenal and the phenomenal, it must necessarily experience two systems of opposites: between the noumenal and the phenomenal, and among the own nature of the phenomenal world. These opposites are irreducible, because only in their wholeness do they reveal own idea subjective existence. Through the idea of ​​personality, the basic antinomies of the universe are linked, and therefore the tragedy of world life is centered in the idea of ​​personality, i.e. in the idea of ​​man in general. Considering the life of society on the basis of the doctrine he developed about egregors as an organic set of actual consciousnesses of a certain set of people, V. Shmakov noted that the part known to us world history does not know such egregors of the mind that would cover at least a significant part of the corresponding society. The idea of ​​man and the idea of ​​society are inextricably linked with each other. Just as in the human body the function of thinking is concentrated mainly in the brain, so in a social organism it will always be the property of a relatively small number of people. As sad as this is, it would be equally absurd to demand intense mental activity from all members of society. The law of synarchy states that society in relation to man is an organism of a higher order and therefore his consciousness is transcendental to the consciousness of each individual included in it. It follows that the life and laws of human societies are inaccessible to immanent comprehension. No collection of facts, no hypothesis or theory, no observed pattern of social life can be considered adequate to reality. All this is just a projection of social life into individual consciousness with an irremovable, in principle, distortion. Moreover, the more perfect a society is, the more transcendental its life and consciousness are in relation to the consciousnesses of its individual members. Therefore, any rationalization of history, search for causes and consequences, is a conscious or unconscious deception. By this we only satisfy our need for a logically consistent contemplation of events, but do not at all clarify the essence of the matter. The impossibility of rationalizing history is not due to the fallacy of the laws of our consciousness, but due to their insufficiency.

At first glance, the presented understanding of the nature of man and society, as organisms of different hierarchical dignity - identical in essence and similar in quality, leads to despondency, because a harmonious society is an unattainable ideal, a utopia. But Sisyphean labor is also useful - it strengthens muscles, develops willpower, etc. “All evolution is born from antinomies and proceeds in antinomies. The evolution of the consciousness of a phenomenal organism entails a continuous increase in the number and intensity of collisions with other organisms and their groups, and therefore the tragedy of life. Experiencing antinomy is a tragic process, and creatively overcoming it is overcoming tragedy” (1). This is how A. Zinoviev assessed the modern utopia - Russian communism - in his last sociological novel: “I am happy that I was born in Russia, during this accidental exception in human history, during a time of realized social utopia. I am happy that I lived the best part of my life during this time. I am happy that I had the opportunity to appreciate my luck in life by seeing the death of utopia. Amen!" (3). How strong an influence this utopia had on the consciousness of the younger generation can be seen in the example of V. Vysotsky’s first poem “My Oath,” which ends like this:

The name Stalin will live for centuries,
It will soar over the Earth,
The name Stalin will shine on us
The eternal sun and the eternal star.

This poem was written on the third day after the death of I. Stalin. The famous Soviet human rights activist, academician A. Sakharov, did not hide the fact that when he learned about the death of the leader, he cried. The religious and metaphysical aspects of utopian realism were studied in detail by V. Shtepa, paying special attention to the tradition and probable future of the Russian utopia, capable of replacing the current timelessness. The author noted that a new civilization must simply be created using all available capabilities, without waiting for manna from heaven. What kind of harmony of our civilization can we talk about in the foreseeable future if, according to A. Zinoviev, humanity as a whole has lost the meaning of its social existence?

If the physical basis of heavenly politics is similarity to nature, as A. Devyatov asserts, then it is necessary to follow the ancient wisdom - “man, know yourself and you will know the world,” i.e. explore human nature. This wisdom was rediscovered by the last Russian philosopher of the Soviet era, A. Arsenyev, who noted that the world can only be understood through a person, and not vice versa (5). Figuratively speaking, God gave man this world, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. A person can truly be a unit of a higher social organism only because he himself is an organism - a combination of unity and multiplicity. The simplest living organism, for example an amoeba, is qualitatively more complex, i.e. more synarchic than any technical product created by man. Man as an organism is a clear manifestation of the law of synarchy, as a hierarchically organized unity, and this is his nature-likeness to society and the world as a whole.

An important problem of modern civilization is how technology affects the harmonious development of man and society. Back in the 1920s, N. Berdyaev outlined his understanding of the role of technology in the fate of man: “Previously, man was organically connected with nature and his social life developed in accordance with the life of nature. The machine radically changes this relationship between man and nature. It not only frees a person in some way, but also enslaves him in a new way” (6). Over the past 100 years of scientific and technological progress, psycho-social regression has been quite clearly observed, primarily in the life of Western civilization. The outstanding scientist-encyclopedist V. Nalimov noted with alarm that in the near future artificial intelligence will develop as a powerful and, possibly, formidable technical assistant. “Just as machines came between nature and man, so computers will come between man and meaning.” Justifying his fears, V. Nalimov emphasized that until now, as a result of long evolution, a certain balance has been established between the logical and technical activity that can be transferred to a computer, and that specific human activity in which the contemplative component of thinking is essential. “If we speak in metaphors of two hemispheres of the brain, then the activity of one of them will be enhanced by many orders of magnitude before our eyes. And then this imbalance will grow exponentially. Where it leads?" (7).

The founder of transpersonal psychology, S. Grof, based on the results of many years of practical research into consciousness, concluded that a radical internal transformation and ascent to a new level of consciousness is perhaps the only real hope that we have in the current global crisis. “But if we continue to pursue old strategies, which in their consequences are clearly self-destructive, the human species is unlikely to survive on this earth” (8). If we accept a harmonious society as a noumenal archetype, then according to the law of realization - the foundation of the doctrine of the phenomenal world, “every noumenon in phenomenal consciousness must be illuminated from sixteen different points of view” (9). In sociology, such an archetype corresponds to the social attractor of an evolving system.
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Literature
1. Shmakov V. The Law of Synarchy. Kyiv, 1994.
2. Eremin V.I. Paradoxes of the fate of the forgotten genius of Russia. \\National Security and geopolitics of Russia, 2006, No. 3-4, pp. 157-162.
3. Zinoviev A.A. Russian tragedy. M., 2007.
4. Shtepa V.V. RUtopia. Ekaterinburg, 2004.
5. Arsenyev A.S. Philosophical foundations for understanding personality. M., 2001.
6. Berdyaev N.A. The meaning of the story. Paris, 1969.
7. Nalimov V.V. Spontaneity of consciousness. M., 1989.
8. Grof S. Psychology of the future. M., 2001.
9. Shmakov V. Great Arcana of the Tarot. M., 1916.

The octopus is a hunter of tropical and subtropical seas and oceans, which can sometimes itself become someone’s victim. The secret weapon he possesses is an ink bag filled with dyeing liquid. The first ink was born thanks to this sea creature.

The octopus belongs to the phylum - mollusks, class - cephalopods, order - octopuses. The body of this creature with eight tentacles extending from it looks like a ball. But in fact, behind its baggy body lies the highly developed brain and nervous system of an amazingly intelligent animal. The deciphering of the octopus genome in 2015 can serve as good evidence for this statement. In terms of the number of base pairs, it lags behind humans by only 400 million (2.7 versus 3.1 billion).

Habits of an octopus

The octopus is a nocturnal animal that lives in shallow water in rocky crevices and depressions. Sometimes he digs a nest in the ground or builds a stone fortress at the bottom of the sea. Most often he crawls or swims. During the day, he hides and watches the immediate surroundings.
Its large eyes have adapted to the dim light of the deep sea, they are able to recognize shapes and react to moving objects. Instead of changing the shape of the lens, the eyes move as they focus on the surrounding objects.

Octopuses are quite lazy. You can recognize their hiding place by the shells and husks lying at the entrance. These small garbage piles appear due to regular cleaning of shelters and removal of garbage outside its territory. This type of mollusk is trainable and has a good memory, which allows it to recognize geometric shapes and recognize its breadwinner. It's hard to believe, but the garden snail is a distant relative of the octopus (belongs to the same class).

Food and hunting

At dusk, the octopus leaves its place or shelter and goes hunting. Most often it feeds on crabs, crayfish and various shellfish, but usually eats anything that moves. It is an excellent swimmer and often takes its food by surprise. The octopus is able to change color, adapting to the environment.

When it is camouflaged, it pounces on moving prey and paralyzes it with its venom. To hold slippery prey, it has two rows of suction cups on its strong and mobile limbs. The octopus has many small but very sharp teeth, with the help of which, when it hits a mollusk in its shell, it breaks it.

To get rid of competitors such as lobsters, he adopts a different method. To attack the lobster from behind, it makes an ink veil and attacks it.

Enemies and protection from them

Moray eels, conger eels, dolphins, and sharks are the enemies of adult octopuses. He runs, turning away from them, from behind and uses the force of repulsion. The octopus can also hide from them in narrow crevices, inaccessible to the pursuer. Often he stays alive thanks to his disguise. He can almost completely blend into his surroundings. The pigments that are in his skin can change their concentration and form stripes and patterns. When hunting and when he defends himself, he uses a trick. An octopus will release an ink cloud into the water if it is being chased. It also secretes a liquid that paralyzes the pursuer’s sense of smell. As if from a fire cannon, he can also fire jets of water from a funnel at the enemy.

Reproduction

When mating, the octopuses seem to hold hands, releasing sperm through a modified tentacle, the male fertilizes the female. After a week, she lays eggs that resemble grapes and pours a jelly-like liquid over them. But if the female is in captivity, she weaves a nest basket and lays eggs in it. Then small octopuses emerge from them, which she protects, cleans and provides them with a constant flow of fresh water.

When the female becomes a mother, she can easily become prey because she is very weak at this time. Small octopuses barely reach 3 mm. Like plankton, they are carried by water and then settle to the seabed where they continue to grow.

The female can lay 150,000 eggs and guard them for 4 to 6 weeks. Their incubation time depends on the water temperature.

Basic data

The length of the octopus reaches up to 3 m, but usually less. Their weight is about 25 kg. Females reach sexual maturity with a weight of 1 kg, and males 100 g.

Puberty in females begins at 18-24 months, males earlier.

Octopuses are nocturnal and solitary. Females live up to 2 years after the birth of their offspring. Males live longer.

Close relatives are decapod cephalopods such as cuttlefish, squid and nautilus.

Close relatives of the octopus can be found off the west coast of Sweden.

Dec 6, 2010 Marina