Viktor Pelevin The Recluse and the Six-fingered
Back off.
- ?..
I said back off. Don't bother watching.
And what are you looking at?
Here's an idiot, Lord... Well, in the sun. Sixfinger looked up from the black surface of the soil strewn with food, sawdust, and crushed peat, and squinted upward.
Yes... We live, we live - why? Secret of the Ages. And has anyone comprehended the subtle thread-like essence of the luminaries? The stranger turned his head and looked at him with squeamish curiosity.
Six-fingered, - Six-fingered immediately introduced himself.
I am the Recluse, - answered the stranger. Is that what they say in society? About a thin threadlike essence?
Not with us anymore, - answered Six-fingered and suddenly whistled. - Wow!
What? the Hermit asked suspiciously.
Vaughn, look! New has arrived!
So what?
This is never the case in the center of the world. So that three luminaries at once. The recluse chuckled indulgently.
And I once saw eleven at once. One at the zenith and five on each epicycle. True, it was not here.
And where? asked Sixfinger. The recluse was silent. Turning away, he stepped aside, kicked a piece of food off the ground with his foot and began to eat. A weak warm wind was blowing, two suns were reflected in the gray-green planes of the distant horizon, and in this picture there was so much peace and sadness that the Hermit, who was in thought, noticing Six-fingered in front of him again, even shuddered.
It is you again. Well, what do you need?
So. Want to talk.
Why, you're not smart, I suppose, - answered the Hermit. - It would be better to go into society. And then he wandered off somewhere. True, go... He waved his hand in the direction of a narrow dirty yellow strip, which wriggled and trembled a little - it was hard to believe that a huge noisy crowd looked like this from here.
I would go, - said Six-fingered, - only they drove me away.
Yes? Why? Policy? Sixfinger nodded and scratched one foot with the other. The recluse looked down at his feet and shook his head.
Real?
And then what. They told me so - we can say that the most decisive stage is approaching, and you have six fingers on your feet ... I found, they say, time ...
What else "decisive stage"?
Don't know. The faces of everyone are distorted, especially those of the Twenty Closest, and you can’t understand anything else. They run, they scream.
Ah, - said the Hermit, - I understand. - He, perhaps, every hour more and more distinctly and distinctly? And the contours are all visible?
Exactly, - Six-fingered was surprised. - How do you know?
Yes, I have already seen about five of them, these decisive stages. They are just called differently.
Yes, well, - said Six-fingered. - It's happening for the first time.
Still would. It would even be interesting to see how it will happen a second time. But we are a little bit different. The recluse laughed quietly, took a few steps towards the distant society, turned his back to him and began to shuffle his feet with force so that a whole cloud soon hung behind him, consisting of the remains of food, sawdust and dust. At the same time, he looked around, waved his arms and muttered something.
What are you? asked Sixfinger, with some dismay, when the Hermit returned, panting.
It's a gesture, - answered the Hermit. - Such a form of art. Read the poem and act accordingly.
What poem are you reading right now?
Such, - said the Hermit.
Sometimes I feel sad looking at those I left behind. Sometimes I laugh, and then a yellow mist rises between us.
What a poem this is,” said Sixfinger. - Thank God, I know all the poems. Well, that is, not by heart, of course, but I heard all twenty-five. There is no such thing, for sure. The recluse looked at him in bewilderment, and then, apparently, he understood.
Do you remember at least one? - he asked. - Read it.
Now. Twins... Twins... Well, in short, we say one thing there, but mean another. And then again we say one thing, but we mean another, but, as it were, the other way around. It turns out very beautiful. In the end, we raise our eyes to the wall, and there ...
Enough, said the Hermit. There was silence.
Listen, have you been kicked out too? - violated his Six-fingered.
No. I drove them all away.
Does that happen?
It happens in every way, - said the Hermit, looked at one of the celestial objects and added in a tone of transition from chatter to a serious conversation: - It will soon become dark.
Come on, - said Sixfinger, - no one knows when it will be dark.
And here I know. If you want to sleep peacefully, do as I do. - And the Hermit began to rake up heaps of various rubbish lying under his feet, sawdust and pieces of peat. Gradually, he got a wall enclosing a small empty space, quite high, in his height. The recluse walked away from the finished structure, looked at him lovingly and said: - Here. I call it the refuge of the soul.
Why? asked Sixfinger.
So. Sounds nice. Are you going to build yourself? Sixfinger began to tinker. Nothing came of it - the wall collapsed. In truth, he didn’t really try, because he didn’t believe the Hermit at all about the onset of darkness, and when the heavenly lights faltered and began to slowly go out, and from the side of society came a nationwide sigh of horror similar to the sound of wind in the straw, a sigh of horror arose in his heart two at the same time strong feelings: the usual fear of suddenly approaching darkness and previously unfamiliar admiration for someone who knows more about the world than he does.
So be it, - said the Hermit, - jump inside. I'll build more.
I don't know how to jump,” Sixfinger answered quietly.
Then hello, - said the Hermit, and suddenly, pushing off the ground with all his might, he soared up and disappeared behind the wall, after which the entire structure collapsed on him, covering him with a uniform layer of sawdust and peat. The resulting mound trembled for some time, then a small hole appeared in its wall - Six-fingered still had time to see the shining eye of the Hermit in it - and the final darkness came. Of course, Six-Claws, as long as he could remember, knew everything there was to know about the night. "It's a natural process," some said. “We have to deal with the matter,” others thought, and there were a majority of them. In general, there were many shades of opinion, but the same thing happened to everyone: when, for no apparent reason, the light went out, after a short and hopeless struggle with convulsions of fear, everyone fell into a stupor, and when they came to their senses (when the luminaries lit up again), they remembered very much few. The same thing happened to Sixfinger while he lived in society, and now - probably because the fear of the ensuing darkness was superimposed on an equal fear of loneliness and, therefore, doubled - he did not fall into the usual saving coma. The distant moaning of the people had already subsided, and he still sat huddled near the mound and quietly wept. There was nothing to be seen around, and when the voice of the Hermit was heard in the darkness, Six-fingered, out of fright, shat right under him.
Listen, stop hammering, - said the Hermit, - you're disturbing sleep.
I can't," Sixfinger replied quietly. - It's a heart. Would you talk to me, would you?
About what? asked the Hermit.
Whatever you want, just more.
Let's talk about the nature of fear, shall we?
Oh no! squeaked Sixfinger.
Quiet you! hissed the Recluse. - Now all the rats will run here.
What rats? What is this? - Six-fingered asked coldly.
These are creatures of the night. Although in fact the day too.
I've been unlucky in my life, - whispered Six-fingered. - If I had as many fingers as I should, I would sleep with everyone now. Lord, what a fear... Rats...
Listen, - the Hermit spoke up, - here you are repeating everything - Lord, Lord ... do you have something there, do you believe in God?
The devil knows. There is something, that's for sure. And what - no one knows. For example, why is it getting dark? Although, of course, it can be explained by natural causes. And if you think about God, then you won’t do anything in life ...
And what, interestingly, can be done in life? asked the Hermit.
Like what? Why ask stupid questions - as if you yourself do not know. Everyone as he can climbs to the feeder. Law of life.
It's clear. Why then all this?
What is this"?
Well, the universe, the sky, the earth, the luminaries - everything.
What do you mean why? That's the way the world works.
And how is it arranged? - with interest asked the Hermit.
That's how it's set up. We move in space and time. according to the laws of life.
And where to?
How do I know. Secret of the Ages. From you, you know, you can go crazy.
It can drive you crazy. Whatever you talk about, everything is either the law of life or the secret of the ages.
If you don't like it, don't say that, - Six-fingered said offendedly.
Yeah, I wouldn't say. It's scary to be silent in the dark. Six-fingered somehow completely forgot about it. Listening to his feelings, he suddenly noticed that he did not feel any fear. This frightened him to such an extent that he jumped to his feet and rushed somewhere blindly, until from all acceleration he hit his head on the Wall of the World, invisible in the darkness. The Hermit's creaky laughter was heard from afar, and Six-fingered, carefully rearranging his legs, wandered towards these only sounds in the general darkness and silence. Having reached the mound under which the Hermit was sitting, he silently lay down beside him and, trying not to pay attention to the cold, tried to sleep. The moment when it happened, he did not even notice.
Today you and I will climb over the Wall of the World, got it? - said the Hermit. Six-fingered was just running up to the refuge of the soul. The building itself came out of him almost the same as that of the Hermit, but the jump was successful only after a long run, and now he was training. The meaning of what was said came to him just when he had to jump, and as a result he crashed into a flimsy structure so that peat and sawdust, instead of covering his entire body with an even soft layer, turned into a heap heaped over his head, and his legs lost support. and hung helplessly in the void. The hermit helped him out and repeated:
Today we will go beyond the Wall of the World. Behind last days Six-fingered heard enough from him that his soul creaked and groaned all the time, and his former life in society seemed like a touching fantasy (or maybe a vulgar nightmare - he hadn’t decided yet), but it was too much. Meanwhile the hermit continued:
The decisive stage comes after every seventy eclipses. And yesterday was the sixty-ninth. Numbers rule the world. And he pointed to a long chain of straws sticking out of the soil near the World Wall itself.
But how can one climb over the Wall of the World, if it is the Wall of the World? After all, in the name itself... After all, there is nothing behind it... Six-fingered was so dumbfounded that he did not even pay attention to the dark mystical explanations of the Recluse, from which his mood would otherwise have deteriorated.
So what, - answered the Hermit, - that there is nothing. This should only make us happy.
What are we going to do there?
Live.
What's wrong with us here?
And the fact, fool, that this "here" will not be soon.
And what will happen?
Stay here, you'll know then. Nothing will happen. Sixfinger felt that he had completely lost confidence in what was happening.
Why do you scare me all the time?
Don't whine, - the Hermit muttered, peering anxiously at some point in the sky. - It's not bad at all behind the World Wall. For me, it's much better than here. He walked over to the remains of the soul shelter built by Six-fingered and began to scatter them around with his feet.
Why are you? asked Sixfinger.
Before leaving any world, one must generalize the experience of one's stay in it, and then destroy all traces of oneself. This is a tradition.
And who invented it?
Who cares. Well, I. There is no one else here, you see. So... The recluse looked at the result of his labor - in the place of the collapsed building there was now a perfectly flat place, no different from the surface of the rest of the desert.
Everything, - he said, - I destroyed the traces. - Now we need to generalize the experience. Your turn. Climb on this bump and tell. Sixfinger felt that he had been outwitted, leaving him with the hardest and, most importantly, incomprehensible part of the work. But after the eclipse incident, he decided to obey the Hermit. Shrugging his shoulders and looking around to see if anyone from society had wandered in here, he climbed onto a hummock.
What to tell?
Everything you know about the world.
We'll be here for a long time," Sixfinger whistled.
I don't think so, - the Hermit replied dryly.
So yes. Our world... Well, you have an idiotic ritual...
Do not be distracted.
Our world is a regular octagon, uniformly and rectilinearly moving in space. Here we are preparing for the decisive stage, the crown of our happy lives. This is the official wording, anyway. The so-called Wall of the World passes along the perimeter of the world, which objectively arose as a result of the action of the laws of life. In the center of the world there is a two-tiered feeder-drinker, around which our civilization has long existed. The position of a member of society in relation to the feeder-drinker is determined by his social significance and merits ...
I haven’t heard this before,” the Hermit interrupted. - What is merit? And public importance?
Well ... How to say ... This is when someone gets to the feeder-drinker itself.
Who gets to her?
I say: the one who has great merit. Or public importance. For example, I used to have so-so merits, but now none at all. What, you don't know the folk model of the universe?
I don't know, said the Hermit.
What are you doing?.. And how did you prepare for the decisive stage?
And almost everything. What else is there ... Behind the area of society there is a great desert, and everything ends with the Wall of the World. Outlaws like us huddle around her.
It's clear. Where did the log come from? You mean everyone else?
Well, you give... Even the Closest Twenty won't tell you that. Secret of the Ages.
W-well, good. And what is the secret of the ages?
The law of life,” answered Sixfinger, trying to speak softly. He did not like something in the intonations of the Hermit.
OK. What is the law of life?
This is the secret of the ages.
Secret of the ages? - the Hermit asked in a strangely thin voice and began to slowly approach Six-fingered in an arc.
What are you? Cum! - Six-fingered was frightened. - It's your ritual! But the Hermit had already pulled himself together.
All right, - he said, - everything is clear. Get off. Six-fingered climbed down from the tussock, and the Hermit, with a concentrated and serious look, climbed into his place. He was silent for a while, as if listening to something, and then raised his head and spoke.
I came here from another world, he said, in the days when you were still very young. And in that other world I came from the third, and so on. I have been to five worlds in total. They are the same as this one, and practically do not differ from each other. And the universe where we are is a huge enclosed space. In the language of the gods, it is called the Lunacharsky Broiler Plant, but what this means is unknown.
Do you know the language of the gods? - Six-fingered asked in astonishment.
A little. Do not interrupt. There are seventy worlds in the universe. We are currently in one of them. These worlds are attached to an immense black ribbon that moves slowly in a circle. And above it, on the surface of the sky, there are hundreds of identical luminaries. So it's not they who float above us, but we swim below them. Try to imagine it. Sixfinger closed his eyes. Tension showed on his face.
No, I can't, he finally said.
All right, - said the Hermit, - listen further. All seventy worlds that exist in the universe are called the Chain of Worlds. In any case, it is quite possible to call them that. Each of them has life, but it does not exist there permanently, but cyclically arises and disappears. The decisive stage takes place at the center of the universe, through which all the worlds pass in turn. In the language of the gods, it is called Workshop Number One. Our world is just in front of it. When the decisive stage is completed and the updated world comes out from the other side of Workshop number one, everything starts all over again. Life arises, cycles through, and after a certain period of time, it is again plunged into Workshop number one.
How do you know all this? - Six-fingered asked in a quiet voice.
I traveled a lot, - said the Hermit, - and bit by bit collected secret knowledge. One world knew one thing, another another.
Maybe you know where we come from?
I know. What do they say about it in your world?
That this is an objective fact. This is the law of life.
It's clear. Are you asking about one of greatest secrets of the universe, and I don't even know if you can be trusted with it. But since there is no one but you anyway, I, perhaps, will say. We are born from white balls. In fact, they are not quite balls, but somewhat elongated, and one end of them is narrower than the other, but now it does not matter.
Balls. White balls, - repeated Six-fingered and, as he stood, fell to the ground. The burden of what he had learned fell upon him like a physical weight, and for a second it seemed to him that he would die. The recluse jumped up to him and began to shake with all his might. Gradually, the clarity of consciousness returned to Six-fingered.
What happened to you? - the Hermit asked frightened.
Oh, I remembered. Exactly. We used to be white balls and lay on long shelves. This place was very warm and humid. And then we began to break these balls from the inside and ... Our world rolled up from somewhere below, and then we were already in it ... But why does no one remember this?
There are worlds that remember this,” said the Hermit. - Just think, the fifth and sixth perinatal matrices. Not that deep, and besides, only part of the truth. But all the same, those who remember this are hidden away so that they do not interfere with preparing for the decisive stage, or whatever it is called. Everywhere is different. We, for example, called the completion of construction, although no one built anything. Apparently, the recollection of his world plunged the Hermit into sadness. He fell silent.
Listen, - Six-fingered asked after a while, - where do these white balls come from? The recluse looked at him approvingly.
It took me much longer for this question to mature in my soul,” he said. - But here everything is much more complicated. One ancient legend it is said that these eggs come from us, but this may well be a metaphor ...
From U.S? Unclear. Where did you hear it?
Yes, I composed it. Do you hear anything here? - said the Hermit with unexpected anguish in his voice.
You said it was an ancient legend.
Right. I just made it up like an ancient legend.
Like this? For what?
You know, one ancient sage, one might say - a prophet (this time Six-fingered guessed who in question), said that what is said is not as important as who said it. Part of the meaning of what I wanted to express is that my words act as an ancient legend. However, how can you understand ... The hermit looked at the sky and interrupted himself:
All. Time to go.
Where?
To society. Sixfinger rolled his eyes.
We were going to climb over the Wall of the World. Why do we need society?
Do you even know what society is? asked the Hermit. - This is a device for climbing over the Wall of the World.
Six-fingered, despite the complete absence of objects in the desert for which one could hide, for some reason walked stealthily, and the closer society became, the more criminal his gait became. Gradually, a huge crowd, which seemed from afar a gigantic moving creature, disintegrated into separate bodies, and one could even make out the surprised grimaces of those who noticed the approaching ones.
The main thing, - the Hermit repeated the last instruction in a whisper, - behave more impudently. But not too bold. We must certainly anger them - but not to such an extent that we are torn to shreds. In short, watch what I do all the time.
Six-toed pinned! - cheerfully shouted someone ahead. - Hello, you bastard! Hey, Sixfinger, who's with you? This stupid cry unexpectedly - and it is completely incomprehensible why - caused in Sixfinger a whole wave of nostalgic memories of childhood. The recluse, walking a little behind, seemed to sense this and shoved Six-fingered in the back. People rarely stood at the very border of society - mostly cripples and contemplators who did not like cramped quarters lived here - it was not difficult to get around them. But the farther, the denser the crowd stood, and very soon the Hermit and Sixfinger found themselves in unbearable crowding. It was still possible to move forward, but only quarreling with those standing on the sides. And when the small shaking roof of the feeder-drinker appeared above the heads of those who were in front, it was impossible to make a single step forward.
I was always amazed, - the Hermit said quietly to Six-Fingers, - how wisely everything is arranged here. Those who stand closer to the feeder-drinker are happy mainly because they always remember about those who want to take their place. And those who wait all their lives for a crack to appear between those standing in front are happy because they have something to hope for in life. After all, this is harmony and unity.
Well, don't like it? a voice asked from the side.
No, I don’t like it,” the Hermit replied.
What specifically don't you like?
Yes all. And the Hermit with a broad gesture circled the crowd around, the majestic dome of the feeder-drinker, the skies flickering with yellow lights and the distant, barely visible from here, the Wall of the World.
It's clear. And where do you think is better?
That's the tragedy, that nowhere! In fact of the matter! - the Hermit cried out in anguish. - It would be better somewhere, could I talk to you about life here?
And your friend has the same views? the voice asked. Why is he looking at the ground? Six-fingered looked up - before that he looked at his feet, because this allowed him to minimally participate in what was happening - and saw the owner of the voice. He had a flabby, beefy face, and when he spoke, the anatomical details of his larynx became clearly visible. Six-fingered immediately realized that in front of him was one of the Twenty Closest, the very conscience of the era. Apparently, before their arrival, he held explanations here, as was sometimes the practice.
Take them. Movement passed through the crowd, and the Hermit and Sixfinger were immediately squeezed in on all four sides.
Yes, we spat on you, - the Hermit said just as friendly. - Where will you take us? There is nowhere for you to take us. Well, run again. As they say, you can't throw it over the Wall of the World... Then confusion appeared on the face of the Hermit, and the fat-faced man lifted his eyelids high - their eyes met.
But an interesting idea. We haven't had this yet. Of course, there is such an expression, but the will of the people is stronger than a proverb. Apparently, this idea delighted him. He turned and commanded:
Attention! We are building! Now we have an unplanned event. Not much time passed between the moment when the fat-faced commanded the formation, and the moment when the procession, in the center of which the Hermit and Six-fingered were led, approached the Wall of the World. The procession was impressive. The fat-faced man walked first in it, followed by two appointed old mothers (no one, including the fat-faced one, knew what it was - it was just such a tradition), who through tears shouted offensive words to the Recluse and Six-fingered, mourning and cursing them at the same time, then the criminals themselves were led, and the crowd of the masses brought up the rear.
So,” said the fat-faced man, when the procession stopped, “the frightening moment of retribution has come. I think, brothers, that we will all close our eyes when these two renegades disappear into oblivion, don't we? And may this exciting event serve beautiful lesson to all of us, the people. Cry louder, mothers! The old mothers fell to the ground and burst into such sorrowful weeping that many of those present also began to turn away and swallow; but, writhing in the tear-splattered dust, the mothers sometimes suddenly jumped up and, with their eyes sparkling, threw irrefutable terrible accusations to the Hermit and Six-Fingers, after which they fell backwards exhaustedly.
So, - the fat-faced man said after a while, - have you repented? Have you been ashamed of your mother's tears?
Still, - answered the Hermit, anxiously watching the ceremony, then some celestial bodies, - but how do you want to transfer us? The fat man thought. The old mothers also fell silent, then one of them rose from the dust, dusted herself off and said:
mound?
The embankment, - said the Hermit, - it will take five eclipses. And we have long been impatient to hide our exposed shame in the void. The fat-faced man squinted slyly at the Hermit and nodded approvingly.
They understand, - he said to one of his own, - they only pretend. Ask them what they can offer? A few minutes later, almost to the very edge of the World Wall, a living pyramid rose. Those who stood at the top squinted and hid their faces so that, God forbid, they would not look where it all ends.
Upstairs, - someone commanded the Hermit and Six-Fingers, and, supporting each other, they went along the shaky line of shoulders and backs to the edge of the wall, lost in the height. From a height, the entire hushed society was visible, closely following what was happening from afar, some previously invisible details of the sky and a thick hose descending to the drinking trough from infinity were visible - from here it seemed not so majestic as from the ground. Lightly, as if on a bump, jumping to the edge of the Wall of the World, the Hermit helped Six-Fingers to sit next to him and shouted down:
Order! From his cry, someone in the living pyramid lost his balance, it swayed several times and fell apart - everyone fell down, under the base of the wall, but, thank God, no one was hurt. Clinging to the cold tin of the side, Sixfinger peered into the tiny upturned faces, into the gray-brown expanses of his homeland; looked at that corner of it where there was a big green spot on the Wall of the World and where he spent his childhood. "I will never see this again," he thought, and although he did not have much desire to see all this ever again, his throat still cramped. He pressed a small piece of earth with a straw stuck to his side and reflected on how quickly and irreversibly everything in his life was changing.
Farewell, dear sons! - the old mothers shouted from below, bowed to the earth and began, sobbing, throwing up heavy pieces of peat. The recluse rose on tiptoe and shouted loudly:
I always knew that I would leave this ruthless world...
Then a large piece of peat hit him, and he, spreading his arms and legs, flew down. Sixfinger took one last look at everything below and noticed that someone from the distant crowd was waving goodbye to him - then he waved back. Then he closed his eyes and stepped back. For a few seconds he spun randomly in the void, and then suddenly hit something hard and painfully and opened his eyes. He lay on a black, shiny surface of an unfamiliar material; the Wall of the World went up - exactly the same as if you look at it from the other side, and next to him, stretching his hand to the wall, stood the Hermit. He finished his poem:
But what it will be, I did not think ...
Then he turned to Six-Fingers and with a short gesture told him to get to his feet.
Now, as they walked along the giant black ribbon, Sixfinger could see that the Recluse had told him the truth. Indeed, the world that they left was slowly moving along with this ribbon relative to other motionless space objects, the nature of which Six-fingered did not understand, and the luminaries were motionless - as soon as they left the black ribbon, everything became clear. Now the world they had left was slowly approaching the green steel gate, under which the tape went. The recluse said that this is the entrance to the Shop number one. Strange, but Six-fingered was not at all struck by the grandeur of the objects filling the universe - on the contrary, a feeling of slight annoyance woke up in him rather. "And it's all?" he thought disdainfully. In the distance two worlds were visible, similar to the one they had left behind - they also moved along with the black tape and looked rather miserable from here. At first, Sixfinger thought that he and the Hermit were heading for another world, but halfway through, the Hermit suddenly told him to jump from the fixed curb along the tape they were walking down into a dark, bottomless crevice.
It's soft there," he said to Sixfingers, but he stepped back and shook his head. Then the Hermit silently jumped down, and Six-Fingers had no choice but to follow him. This time he almost smashed himself against the cold stone surface, paved with large brown slabs - they stretched to the horizon, and it all looked very beautiful.
What is this? asked Sixfinger.
Tile, - the Hermit answered with an incomprehensible word and changed the subject. - Soon the night will begin, - he said, - and we need to get to those places over there. Part of the road will have to pass in the dark. The recluse looked seriously concerned. Six-fingered looked in the indicated direction and saw distant cubic rocks of a pale yellow color (the Hermit said that they were called "boxes"): there were a lot of them, and between them one could see empty spaces strewn with mountains of light shavings - from a distance it all looked like a landscape from a happy childhood dream.
Let's go, - said the Hermit and quickly moved forward.
Listen, - asked Sixfinger, sliding on the tiles nearby, - but how do you know when the night comes?
By the clock, - answered the Hermit. - This is one of celestial bodies. Now it is on the right and at the top - that disc with black zigzags over there. Six-fingered looked at a rather familiar, though never particularly noticeable detail of the firmament.
When some of these black lines come to a special position, which I will tell you about sometime later, the light goes out,” said the Hermit.
It's about to happen. Count to ten.
One, two, - began Six-fingered, and suddenly it became dark.
Keep up with me, - said the Hermit, - you will get lost. He could not have said it - Six-fingered almost stepped on his heels. The only source of light in the universe was an oblique yellow beam falling from under the green gates of Shop One. The place where the Hermit and Sixfinger were going was not far from this gate, but, according to the assurances of the Hermit, it was the safest. All that remains is a distant yellow strip under the gate and a few slabs around. Sixfinger fell into a strange state. It began to seem to him that the darkness was squeezing him and the Hermit in the same way that the crowd had recently been squeezing. Danger emanated from everywhere, and Six-Claws felt it with all his skin as a draft blowing from all sides at the same time. When it became completely unbearable from fear, he looked up from the floating tiles to a bright strip of light ahead, and then he remembered a society that looked almost the same from afar. It seemed to him that they were going to the realm of some fiery spirits, and he was about to tell the Hermit about this when he suddenly stopped and raised his hand.
Quiet, he said, rats. To our right. There was nowhere to run - the same tiled space stretched around in all directions, and the strip ahead was still too far. The recluse turned to the right and took a strange pose, telling Six-Fingers to hide behind him, which he did with amazing speed and delicacy. At first he did not notice anything, and then he felt, rather than saw, the movement of a large fast body In the dark. It stopped right at the edge of visibility.
She is waiting, - the Hermit said quietly, - how we will proceed. We only need to take a step, and she will rush at us.
Yeah, I'll throw myself, - said the rat, coming out of the darkness. - Like a lump of evil and rage. Like a true product of the night.
Wow, the Hermit sighed. - One-eyed. And I thought we were really screwed. Meet. Six-fingered looked incredulously at the intelligent, conical muzzle with long mustaches and two beady black eyes.
One-eyed, - said the rat and wagged its indecently bare tail.
Six-fingered, - Six-fingered introduced himself and asked: - Why are you One-Eyed, if you have both eyes in order?
And my third eye is open, - said One-eye, - and he is alone. In a sense, everyone with an open third eye is one-eyed.
And what is it ... - began Six-fingered, but the Hermit did not let him finish.
Why don't we walk," he gallantly suggested to One-Eye, "as far as those boxes over there? night road boring if there is no interlocutor nearby. Six-fingered was very offended.
Let's go, - agreed One-Eye and, turning sideways to Six-fingered (only now he could see her huge muscular body), trotted along next to the Recluse, who, in order to keep up, had to walk very quickly. Six-fingered ran behind, looking at One-Eye's paws and the muscles rolling under her skin, thinking about how this meeting could have ended if One-Eye had not turned out to be an acquaintance of the Recluse, and tried his best not to step on her tail. Judging by how quickly their conversation began to look like a continuation of some old conversation, they were old friends.
Freedom? Lord, what is this? asked One-Eye and laughed. - Is it when you run around the plant in confusion and loneliness, dodging a knife for the tenth or what time? Is this what freedom is?
You are replacing everything again, - answered the Hermit. - This is only the search for freedom. I will never agree with that infernal picture of the world in which you believe. You probably have it because you feel like a stranger in this universe created for us.
And the rats believe that it was made for us. I don't mean that I agree with them. Of course, you are right, but not completely and not in the most important thing. Are you saying this universe is made for you? No, it was created because of you, but not for you. Understand? The recluse lowered his head and walked in silence for a while.
Okay, said One Eye. - I'll say goodbye. True, I thought that you would appear a little later, but nevertheless we met. Tomorrow I'm leaving.
Where?
Beyond everything you can talk about. One of the old holes led me into an empty concrete pipe that goes so far that it's hard to even think about it. I met several rats there - they say that this pipe goes deeper and deeper and there, far below, leads to another universe where only male gods live in the same green clothes. They perform complex manipulations around huge idols standing in giant mines. One-eye slowed down.
I'm on the right from here," she said. - So, the food there is like that - you can’t tell. And this universe could fit in one mine there. Listen, do you want to come with me?
No, - answered the Hermit, - down - this is not our way. It seems that for the first time in the entire conversation, he remembered Sixfinger.
Well, - said One-Eye, - then I want to wish you success on your path, whatever it may be. You know how much I love you.
I love you very much too, One-Eye, said the Recluse, and I hope that the thought of you will sustain me. Good luck.
Farewell,” One Eye said, nodded to Sixfinger, and disappeared into the darkness as instantly as she had appeared before. The Recluse and Sixfinger walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the crates, they crossed several mountains of shavings and finally reached their destination. It was a hole in shavings, dimly illuminated by the light from under the gates of Workshop No. 1, in which lay a pile of soft and long rags. Nearby, against the wall, towered a huge ribbed structure, about which the Hermit said that once it radiated so much heat that it was difficult to even approach it. The recluse was in noticeably bad mood. He fumbled in rags, settling down for the night, and Sixfinger decided not to pester him with conversations, especially since he himself wanted to sleep. Somehow wrapping himself in rags, he forgot himself. He was awakened by a distant rattle, the clatter of steel on wood, and screams full of such inexpressible hopelessness that he immediately rushed to the Hermit.
What is this?
Your world is going through a decisive phase, - answered the Hermit.
- ???
Death has come, - the Hermit simply said, turned away, pulled a rag over himself and fell asleep.
Waking up, the Hermit looked at the tearful Six-Claws shaking in the corner, grunted and began to rummage through the rags. Soon he took out about ten identical iron objects, similar to cut pieces of a thick hexagonal pipe.
Look, he said to Sixfingers.
What is this? he asked.
The gods call them nuts. Six-fingered was about to ask something else, but suddenly waved his hand and roared again.
What's wrong with you? asked the Hermit.
Everyone is dead,” muttered Sixfinger, “everything...
So what, - said the Hermit. - You will die too. And I assure you that you and they will be dead for the same amount of time.
It's still a pity.
Who exactly? Old mother, right? Or this one, from the Twenty Nearest?
Remember how they threw us off the wall? asked Sixfinger. Everyone was told to close their eyes. And I waved to them, and then someone waved back at me. And that's when I think that he also died ... And that what made him do this died with him ...
Yes, - said the Hermit, smiling, - it is really very sad. And there was silence, broken only by mechanical sounds from behind the green gates, through which the homeland of Six-fingered sailed away.
Listen, - asked, crying, Six-fingered, - what happens after death?
It's hard to say, - answered the Hermit. - I had a lot of visions about this, but I do not know how much you can rely on them.
Tell me, huh?
After death, we are usually thrown into hell. I counted at least fifty varieties of what is happening there. Sometimes the dead are cut into pieces and fried in huge frying pans. Sometimes they are baked whole in iron rooms with a glass door, where a blue flame burns or white-hot metal pillars radiate heat. Sometimes we are boiled in giant colorful pots. And sometimes, on the contrary, they freeze it into a piece of ice. All in all, not much comfort.
Who does it, huh?
Like who? Gods.
Why do they need it?
You see, we are their food. Six-fingered shuddered, and then carefully looked at his trembling knees.
Most of all, they love their legs, - said the Recluse. Well, hands too. It is about the hands that I am going to talk to you. Pick them up. Six-fingered stretched out his hands in front of him - thin, powerless, they looked pitiful.
Once they served us for flight, - said the Hermit, - but then everything changed.
What is a flight?
Nobody knows for sure. The only thing known is what one must have Strong arms. Much stronger than you or even me. So I want to teach you one exercise. Take two nuts. Six-fingered with difficulty dragged two heavy objects to the feet of the Hermit.
Like this. Now stick the ends of your hands into the holes. Sixfinger did that too.
And now raise and lower your hands up and down ... Like this. A minute later, Sixfinger was tired to such an extent that he could not make another single swing, no matter how hard he tried.
That's it, - he said, lowered his hands, and the nuts fell to the floor.
Now look how I do, - said the Hermit and put five nuts on each hand. For several minutes he kept his arms outstretched and did not seem to be tired at all.
Well, how?
Great, - exhaled Sixfinger. Why are you holding them still?
At some point in this exercise, one difficulty appears. Then you will understand what I mean, - answered the Hermit.
Are you sure you can learn to fly like that?
No. Not sure. On the contrary, I suspect that it is a useless exercise.
Why then is it needed? If you yourself know that it is useless?
How to say to you. Because besides this, I know many other things, and one of them is this: if you are in the dark and you see even the weakest ray of light, you should go to it, instead of arguing whether it makes sense to do it or not. Maybe it really doesn't make sense. But just sitting in the dark doesn't make sense anyway. Do you understand what the difference is? Sixfinger was silent.
We are alive as long as we have hope, - said the Hermit. “And if you have lost her, by no means let yourself guess about it. And then something might change. But in no case should one seriously hope for this. Sixfinger felt a little annoyed.
All this is wonderful,” he said, “but what does it really mean?
What this really means to you is that you're going to work with these nuts every day until you do the same as me. And for me, this means that I will follow you as if your success is really important to me.
Isn't there some other activity? asked Sixfinger.
Yes, the Hermit replied. - You can prepare for the decisive stage. But in this case, you will have to act alone.
Listen, Recluse, do you know everything - what is love?
I wonder where you heard this word? asked the Hermit.
Yes, when I was expelled from society, someone asked if I liked what I was supposed to. I said I don't know. And then, One-Eye said that she loved you very much, and you - that you love her.
It's clear. You know, I can hardly explain to you. This is only possible with an example. Imagine that you fell into a barrel of water and drowned. Introduced?
Yes.
Now imagine that you stuck your head out for a second, saw a light, took a breath of air and something touched your hands. And you grabbed it and hold on. So, if we assume that you are drowning all your life (and it is), then love is what helps you keep your head above water.
Are you talking about love for what is supposed to be loved?
Doesn't matter. Although, in general, what is supposed to be loved under water. Anything. What difference does it make what you grab onto, as long as it survives. Worst of all if it's someone else, you see, he can always withdraw his hand. In short, love is what keeps everyone where they are. Excluding, perhaps, the dead... Though...
I don't think I've ever loved anything," Sixfinger interrupted.
No, it happened to you too. Remember how you cried for half a day thinking about who waved back at you when we were thrown off the wall? This is what love was. You don't know why he did it. Maybe he thought that he was mocking you much more subtle than others. I personally think that's how it was. So you acted very stupidly, but perfectly right. Love gives meaning to what we do, when in fact there is none.
So does love deceive us? Is it like a dream?
No. Love is something like love, and sleep is sleep. Everything you do, you only do it out of love. Otherwise, you would just sit on the ground and howl in horror. Or disgust.
But after all, many do what they do, not at all out of love.
Drop it. They don't do anything.
Do you love anything, Recluse?
I love.
And what?
Don't know. Something that sometimes comes to me. Sometimes it's a thought, sometimes nuts, sometimes the wind. The main thing is that I always recognize it, no matter how it dresses up, and meet it with the best that I have.
How?
The fact that I become calm.
Do you worry the rest of the time?
No. I am always calm. It's just the best that I have, and when what I love comes to me, I meet it with my calmness.
What do you think is the best thing about me?
In you? Perhaps this is when you are silent somewhere in the corner and you are not visible.
Is it true?
Don't know. Seriously though, you can tell what's best about you by how you meet what you love. How did you feel thinking about who waved to you?
Sadness.
Well, then, the best thing about you is your sadness, and you will always meet with it what you love. The hermit looked around and listened to something.
Do you want to see the gods? he suddenly asked.
Only, please, not now, - Six-fingered answered frightened.
Don't be afraid. They are stupid. Well, look, there they are. Two people walked quickly along the aisle past the conveyor huge creatures- they were so large that their heads were lost in the semi-darkness somewhere under the ceiling. Another one walked behind them. similar creature, only lower and thicker, - it carried in its hand a vessel in the form of a truncated cone, facing the narrow part of the earth. The first two stopped not far from the place where the Hermit and Sixfinger were sitting, and began to make low rumbling sounds (“They say,” Sixfinger guessed), and the third creature went up to the wall, put the vessel on the floor, dipped a pole with bristles at the end and drew a fresh dirty gray line across the dirty gray wall. It smelled of something strange.
Listen, - Six-fingered whispered barely audibly, - and you said that you know their language. What they're saying?
These two? Now. The first says: "I want to eat." And the second one says: "Don't come near Dunka anymore."
And what is "Dunka"?
The area of the world is like this.
Ah ... And what does the first one want to eat?
Dunka, of course, - after thinking, the Hermit answered.
And how will he devour a region of the world?
That's why they are gods.
And this fat one, what does she say?
She doesn't speak, she sings. About the fact that after death he wants to become a willow. My favorite divine song, by the way. Someday I'll sing it to you. Too bad I don't know what a willow is.
Do gods die?
Still would. This is their main occupation. The two went on. "What greatness!" - Six-fingered thought shocked. The heavy steps of the gods and their low voices subsided; there was silence. A draft whirled the dust over the tiled floor, and Six-fingered high mountain to the strange stone desert spread below, over which the same thing has been happening for millions of years: the wind is rushing, and the remnants of someone's life are flying in it, looking from afar like straws, pieces of paper, chips or something else. “Someday,” thought Sixfinger, “someone else will look down from here and think of me, not knowing what they think of me. Just as I now think of someone who felt the same way, like me, God knows when. In every day there is a point that holds it together with the past and the future. How sad this world is ... "But there is something in it that justifies the most sad life- said the Hermit suddenly. "Become after s-e-e-rti and-and-howl," the fat goddess sang drawlingly and quietly by the bucket of paint; Six-fingered, resting his head on his elbow, was sad, and the Hermit was completely calm and looked into the void as if over thousands of invisible heads.
During the time that Sixfinger was busy with nuts, as many as ten worlds had gone to Shop One. Something creaked and tapped outside the green gate, something was happening there, and Six-Claws, just thinking about it, broke out in a cold sweat and began to shake - but that was what gave him strength. His arms were visibly lengthened and strengthened - now they were the same as those of the Hermit. But so far it hasn't led to anything. The only thing that the Hermit knew was that the flight is carried out with the help of hands, and what it represents was not clear. The recluse believed that this was a special way of instantaneous movement in space, in which you need to imagine the place where you want to go, and then give your hands a mental command to move your whole body there. He spent whole days in contemplation, trying to move at least a few steps, but nothing came of it.
Probably, - he said to Six-Fingers, - our hands are still not strong enough. We must continue. Once, when the Hermit and Sixfinger, sitting in a pile of rags between the boxes, peered into the essence of things, an extremely unpleasant event happened. It became a little darker around him, and when Six-Claws opened his eyes, a huge unshaven face of some god loomed before him.
Look where they got, - it said, and then huge dirty hands grabbed the Hermit and Six-Claws, pulled them out from behind the boxes, carried them through a huge space with incredible speed and threw them into one of the worlds, no longer very far from Workshop number one. At first, the Hermit and Six-fingered reacted to this calmly and even with some irony - they settled down near the Wall of the World and began to prepare shelters for their souls - but the god suddenly returned, pulled out Six-fingered, looked at him carefully, smacked his lips in surprise, and then wrapped a piece of sticky blue tape and threw it back. A few minutes later, several gods came up at once - they took out Six-fingered and began to examine him in turn, uttering exclamations of delight.
I don't like it, - said the Hermit, when the gods finally returned Six-fingered to his place and left, - it's bad business.
In my opinion, too, - answered the frightened Six-fingered. - Maybe it's better to take this rubbish off? And he pointed to the blue ribbon wrapped around his leg.
Better don't take it off yet, - said the Hermit. For some time they were gloomy silent, and then Sixfinger said:
It's all because of six fingers. Well, we'll run away from here - so they'll be looking for us now. They know about boxes. Where else can you hide? The recluse became even more gloomy, and then, instead of answering, he offered to go to the local society to unwind. But it turned out that a whole deputation was already moving towards them from the far side of the feeding trough. Judging by the fact that, not having reached twenty steps to the Hermit and Six-fingered, those who were walking towards them fell to the ground and began to crawl further, they had serious intentions. The recluse told Six-Fingers to step back and went to find out what was the matter. Returning, he said:
I really have never seen this. They seem to have a religious community here. Anyway, they've seen you interact with the gods, and now they think you're a prophet and I'm your student or something like that.
Well, what will happen now? What do they want?
They call to themselves. They say that some path is straightened, something is entwined, and so on. I didn't understand anything, but I think it's worth going.
Let's go, - Six-fingered shrugged indifferently. He was tormented by gloomy forebodings. On the way, several obsessive attempts were made to carry the Hermit in his arms, and this was avoided with great difficulty. No one dared not even approach Six-fingered, but even look at him, and he walked in the center of a large circle of emptiness. Upon arrival, Six-Fingers was seated on a high mound of straw, while the Hermit remained at its base and plunged into conversation with the local high priests, who numbered about twenty - they were easily recognizable by their flabby, fat faces. Then he blessed them and climbed up the hill to Sixfinger, who had such a rotten soul that he did not even respond to the Hermit's ritual bow, which, however, looked quite natural for the flock. It turned out that everyone had been waiting for the coming of the Messiah for a long time, because the approaching decisive stage, here called the Great Judgment, had been worrying the minds of the people for a long time, and the high priests had become so disgruntled and lazy that all questions addressed to them were answered with a short nod in the direction of the sky. So the appearance of Six-Claws with a student turned out to be very helpful.
Waiting for the sermon, - said the Hermit.
Well, spin them something, - Six-fingered muttered. - I'm fool fool, you know. At the word "fool" his voice trembled, and in general it was clear that he was about to cry.
They will eat me, these gods,” he said. - I feel.
Oh well. Calm down, - said the Hermit, turned to the crowd at the hill and took a prayer pose: he lifted his head up and raised his hands. - Hey you! he shouted. You're all going to hell soon. You will be roasted there, and the most sinful ones will be marinated in vinegar before that. A sigh of horror swept over society.
But I, by the will of the gods and their messenger, my master, want to teach you how to be saved. For this, sin must be conquered. Do you even know what sin is? The answer was silence.
Sin is overweight. Sinful is your flesh, for it is because of it that the gods slay you. Think about it: what brings the re... Great Judgment closer? Yes, exactly what you are overgrown with fat. For the thin will be saved, but the fat will not. This is true: not a single bony and blue one will be thrown into the flames, but thick and pink ones will all be there. But those who will fast from now until the Great Judgment will gain a second life. Hey, Lord! Now stand up and sin no more. But no one stood up - everyone lay on the ground and silently looked: some at the Hermit waving his arms, some at the abyss of the sky. Many cried. Perhaps only the high priests did not like the speech of the Hermit.
Why are you like this, - whispered Six-fingered, when the Hermit sank down on the straw, they believe you.
What am I, lying? - answered the Hermit. - If they lose a lot of weight, they will be sent to the second fattening cycle. And then maybe a third. Yes, God bless them, let's better think about our affairs.
The Recluse often spoke to the people, teaching them how to make themselves look the most unappetizing, and Six-Fingers most time sat on his straw mound and pondered the nature of flight. He almost did not participate in conversations with the people and only sometimes absentmindedly blessed the laity crawling up to him. The former high priests, who had absolutely no intention of losing weight, looked at him with hatred, but could not help it, because more and more gods approached the world, pulled out Six-fingered, examined him and showed him to each other. Once among them was even a flabby gray-haired old man accompanied by a large retinue, to whom the other gods treated with extreme respect. The old man took him in his arms, and Sixfinger angrily shitted him right on his cold, shaking palm, after which he was rather rudely put back in his place. And at night, when everyone was asleep, he and the Hermit continued to desperately train their hands - the less they believed that this would lead to anything, the more furiously their efforts became. Their hands had grown to such an extent that it was no longer possible to deal with the pieces of iron, on which the Hermit dismantled the feeder-drinker (in society everyone was fasting and looked almost transparent), it was worth a little wave of their hands, as their legs came off the ground and had to stop the exercise. This was the very difficulty that the Hermit had warned Six-Claws about, but they managed to get around it - the Hermit knew how to strengthen muscles with static exercises, and taught Six-Claws this. The green gate was already visible beyond the Wall of the World, and, according to the Hermit's calculations, there were only a dozen eclipses left before the Great Judgment. The gods did not particularly frighten Six-fingered - he managed to get used to their constant attention and perceived it with squeamish humility. His state of mind returned to normal, and in order to somehow have fun, he began to speak obscure dark sermons that literally shocked the flock. Once he remembered the story of One-Eye about the underground universe and in a burst of inspiration described the preparation of soup for one hundred and sixty demons in green robes in such minute details that in the end he not only scared himself out of his wits, but also greatly frightened the Hermit, who at the beginning of his speech only snorted . Many of the flock memorized this sermon, and it was called "The Blue Ribbon Revelations" - such was the sacred name Six-fingered. After that, even the former high priests stopped eating and ran for hours around the half-disassembled feeder-drinker, trying to get rid of fat. Since both the Hermit and Six-Fingers ate each for two, the Hermit had to invent a special dogma about infallibility, which quickly stopped various conversations in a whisper. But if Sixfinger, after the shock he experienced, quickly returned to normal, then something wrong began to happen to the Hermit. It seemed that Sixfinger's depression had passed to him, and with every hour he became more and more withdrawn. One day he said to Six-fingered:
You know, if we don't succeed, I'll go with everyone to Shop One. Six-fingered opened his mouth, but the Hermit stopped him:
And since nothing will come of it for sure, this can be considered decided. Sixfinger suddenly realized that what he was just about to say was completely superfluous. He could not change someone else's decision, but could only express his affection for the Hermit - whatever he said, the meaning would be just that. Previously, he probably would not have resisted a lot of unnecessary chatter, but for Lately something in him has changed. And in response, he simply nodded his head, stepped aside and immersed himself in thought. Soon he returned and said:
I will also go with you.
No, - said the Hermit, - you should not do that under any circumstances. You now know almost everything I know. And you must definitely stay alive and find yourself a student. Maybe at least he will come close to the ability to fly.
Do you want me to be alone? asked Sixfinger irritably.
With this bastard? And he pointed to the flock prostrated on the ground at the beginning of the conversation of the prophets: identical, trembling, emaciated bodies covered almost all of the visible space.
They are not cattle, - said the Hermit, - they are more like children.
Interestingly, do you remember what you were like before we met? The six-fingered thought and was embarrassed.
No, he said at last, I don't remember. Honestly, I do not remember.
All right, - said the Hermit, - do as you like. This ended the conversation. The days remaining before the end flew by quickly. One morning, when the flock was just opening their eyes, the Hermit and Six-Fingers noticed that the green gate, which only yesterday seemed so far away, hangs over the very Wall of the World. They looked at each other, and the Hermit said:
Today we will make our last attempt. The latter because tomorrow there will be no one to do it. Our arms have become so big that we cannot even wave them in the air - we are knocked down. Therefore, now we will go to the Wall of the World, so that this hubbub does not interfere with us, and from there we will try to transfer to the dome of the feeder-drinker. If we don't succeed, then we'll say goodbye to the world.
How it's done? - out of habit asked Sixfinger. The recluse looked at him in surprise.
How do I know how it's done, he said. The flock was told that the prophets were going to communicate with the gods. Soon the Hermit and Sixfinger were already near the Wall of the World, where they sat down, leaning their backs against it.
Remember, - said the Hermit, - you have to imagine that you are already there, and then ... Six-fingered closed his eyes, concentrated all his attention on his hands and began to think about the rubber hose that went up to the roof of the drinking bowl. Gradually, he went into a trance, and he had a clear feeling that this hose was very close to him - at a distance outstretched hand. Previously, imagining that he had already reached the place where he wanted to fly, Six-Claws hurried to open his eyes, and it always turned out that he was sitting in the same place where he sat. But today he decided to try something new. If you slowly bring your hands together, he thought, so that the hose is between them, what then? Cautiously, trying to maintain the certainty he had achieved that the hose was very close, he began to bring his hands closer together. And when they, converging in a place where before that there was emptiness, touched the hose, he could not stand it and yelled with all his might:
Eat! - and opened his eyes.
Hush, fool, - said the Hermit standing in front of him, whose leg he was squeezing. - Look. Sixfinger jumped to his feet and turned around. The gates of Workshop number one were open, and their leaves slowly floated along the sides and top.
We've arrived, - said the Hermit. - Let's go back. They didn't say a word on the way back. The conveyor belt was moving at the same speed as the Hermit and Sixfinger were moving, only in the opposite direction, and therefore the entrance to Shop One was where they were all the way. And when they reached their places of honor near the feeding trough, the entrance covered them and floated on. The recluse called someone from the flock to him.
Listen, he said. - Only calmly! Go and tell the others that the Great Judgment has arrived. See how dark the sky is?
What to do now? he asked hopefully.
Everyone sit down on the ground and do like this, - said the Hermit and closed his eyes with his hands. "And don't peep, otherwise we can't vouch for anything." And to be quiet. First of all, the hubbub rose. But he quickly subsided - everyone sat down on the ground and did as the Hermit ordered.
Well, - said Six-fingered, - let's say goodbye to the world?
Come on, - answered the Hermit, - you are the first. Six-fingered stood up, looked around, sighed and sat down.
All? asked the Hermit. Sixfinger nodded.
Now I, - the Hermit said, rising, lifted his head and shouted with all his might: - Peace! Goodbye!
Look, clucked, - said a thunderous voice. - Which? This one, that cackles, or what?
Well, rubbish, - ruefully remarked the first person. What to do with them is unclear. They are all half dead. A huge hand swept over the world in a white, blood-stained and dotted with sticky fluff sleeve and touched the feeder-drinker.
Semyon, your mother, where are you looking? Their feeder is broken!
I was whole, - answered the bass. - I checked everything at the beginning of the month. Well, shall we score?
No, we won't. Let's turn on the conveyor, adjust another container, and here - so that tomorrow the feeder will be repaired. How did they not just die...
OK.
And about this one, which has six fingers, - you chop both paws?
Come on, both.
I wanted one for myself. The recluse turned to Six-Fingers, who was listening attentively, but understanding almost nothing.
Listen, he whispered, they seem to want... But at this moment a huge white hand again darted across the sky and grabbed Six-Claws. Six-fingered didn't understand what the Hermit wanted to say. The palm grabbed him, tore him off the ground, then a huge chest flashed in front of him with a fountain pen sticking out of his pocket, the collar of his shirt and, finally, a pair of huge bulging eyes that stared at him point-blank.
Look, wings. Like an eagle! - said the mouth of unprecedented size, behind which yellowed bumpy teeth. Six-fingered has long been accustomed to being in the hands of the gods. But now, some strange, frightening vibration emanated from the palms that held him. From the conversation, he only understood that it was not about his hands, not about his legs, and then from somewhere below came the crazy cry of the Hermit:
Six-fingered! Run! Peck him right in the face! For the first time since they'd known each other, there was despair in the Hermit's voice. And Six-fingered was frightened, frightened to such an extent that all his actions acquired somnambulistic infallibility - he pecked the eye that had hatched at him with all his might and immediately began to beat the sweaty muzzle of the god with incredible speed with his hands from both sides. There was a roar of such force that Six-Claws perceived it not as a sound, but as pressure on the entire surface of his body. The god's palms loosened, and the next moment, Six-fingered noticed that he was under the ceiling and, without leaning on anything, was hanging in the air. At first he did not understand what was the matter, and then he saw that by inertia he continued to wave his arms and it was they who kept him in the void. From here you could see what Shop One was like: it was a section of the conveyor, fenced on both sides, near which stood a long, red and brown stained wooden table strewn with down and feathers, and stacks of transparent bags lay. The world where the Recluse remained looked like just a large rectangular container filled with many motionless tiny bodies. Sixfinger did not see the Hermit, but he was sure that he saw him.
Hey, - he shouted, flying in circles under the very ceiling, - Hermit! Come here! Wave your arms as fast as you can! Below, in the container, something flashed and, rapidly growing in size, began to approach - and now the Hermit was nearby. He made several circles after Sixfinger, and then shouted:
Let's sit down there! When Six-Claws flew up to a square spot of cloudy whitish light crossed by a narrow cross, the Hermit was already sitting on the windowsill.
A wall,” he said as Sixfinger landed beside him, “a luminous wall. The recluse was outwardly calm, but Sixfinger knew him perfectly and saw that he was a little out of his mind from what was happening. The same thing happened with Sixfinger. And suddenly it dawned on him.
Listen, - he shouted, - but this is the flight! We flew! The recluse looked at him for a while, and then nodded his head.
Perhaps, he said. - Although it is too primitive. Meanwhile, the chaotic flickering of figures below calmed down somewhat, and it became clear that two people in white coats were holding a third one, who was covering his face with his hand.
Bitch! He knocked out my eye! Bitch! - shouted this third.
What is "bitch"? asked Sixfinger.
This is a way of addressing one of the elements, - answered the Hermit. - This word has no meaning. But now it looks like we're in trouble.
What element does he refer to? asked Sixfinger.
Now we'll see, - said the Hermit. While the Hermit was uttering these words, the god escaped from the hands holding him, rushed to the wall, tore off the red can of a fire extinguisher and threw it at those sitting on the windowsill - he did it so quickly that no one could stop him, and the Hermit with Six-fingers barely managed to take off in different sides. There was a ringing and a roar. The fire extinguisher, breaking through the window, disappeared, and a wave burst into the room fresh air- only after that it became clear how it stank. It became incredibly light.
Let's fly! yelled the Hermit, suddenly losing all his equanimity. - Live! Forward! And, flying away from the window, he accelerated, folded his wings and disappeared in a beam of yellow hot light, beating from a hole in the painted glass, from where the wind blew and new, unfamiliar sounds came. Six-fingered, accelerating, rushed in a circle. Last time below, an octagonal container flashed, a table covered in blood, and the gods waving their arms - wings folded, he whistled through the hole. At first he was blind for a second, so bright was the light. Then his eyes got used to it, and he saw ahead and above a circle of yellow-white fire of such brightness that it was impossible to look at it even out of the corner of his eye. Seen even higher dark dot- it was the Recluse. He turned so Sixfinger could catch up with him, and soon they were flying side by side. Six-fingered looked around - far below there was a huge and ugly gray building, on which there were only a few painted over oil paint windows. One of them was broken. Everything around was so clean and bright colors that Six-fingered, in order not to go crazy, began to look up. Flying was surprisingly easy - it took no more strength than walking. They rose higher and higher, and soon everything below became just multi-colored squares and spots. Sixfinger turned his head towards the Hermit.
Where? he shouted.
To the south, - the Hermit answered shortly.
What is it? asked Sixfinger.
I don't know, - answered the Hermit, - but it's over there. And he waved his wing towards a huge sparkling circle, only in color reminiscent of what they once called the luminaries.
1. Originality of artistic perception.
2. The Bible for the "specially gifted."
3. Terrible soup.
The general public got acquainted with the works of Viktor Pelevin relatively recently. However, for short term This writer has won many hearts. amazing world revealed in the pages of his works. It does not matter where the action takes place: in a chicken coop, in the world of insects, on a train going nowhere, it fascinates, draws you in, like a motley and swift whirlpool. The author has an amazing talent for endowing insects and birds human features. In them we recognize ourselves, our virtues and vices. The characters are so humanly realistic and natural that at first it is difficult to understand who they are talking about. Without claiming to be a so-called guru or spiritual teacher, the author unobtrusively convinces that the world is both not so simple and not as complex as we often think. In the most seemingly simple things it is possible to find deep meaning, you can recall the reflections of the scarab from the novel "The Life of Insects". And vice versa, the instant insight of Pelevin's heroes, and hence the reader, reveals the complex phenomena of reality. Appears at the core human existence lies laziness, fear, unwillingness to think and act. It’s easy to change your life, you just need to muster up the courage and get off the train, called the household routine.
In many works of the author, the main characters are trying to find the meaning of their existence. Often it starts far from a good life. So, the protagonist of the story "The Hermit and the Six-fingered" began to think about high matters only after he became an outcast. Compatriots excommunicated him from the coveted feeder and deprived him of his fellowship only because he had six toes on his feet. Outside of society, he meets the Hermit, who himself refused to live in society. Gradually, we understand that the entire action of the story takes place at a poultry plant where broiler chickens are raised. People act as gods, and heavenly bodies are nothing more than fluorescent lamps in workshops. Having humanized chickens, which talk a lot about the meaning of life, love, the cyclical nature of the universe, the author, nevertheless, makes the reader look back at himself. Pelevin is trying to look at people from a completely unusual angle. It turns out that the "gods" are not always right, that they are rude and presumptuous. From the point of view of the weak and defenseless, these are real monsters. So, for example, having considered that one of their chickens has six toes on their feet, the “gods” decide to kill her in order to take a leg as a keepsake, and if it were not for the fearlessness of the protagonist, everything could have ended in tragedy. The only reasonable and humane in this world are ordinary chickens. And they are the ones you sympathize with the most. In the conversations of the main characters, completely non-bird questions are raised.
Gradually, under the influence of the Hermit, Six-fingered spiritually develops and improves. Chickens talk about such eternal concepts as love, fate, life after death. For example, love is placed at the center of universal existence: “in short, love is what makes everyone where they are.” " spiritual teacher”transmits to his student everything that was the fruit of his long observations and reflections on the phenomena of life around him. The goal is to fly, which is not available to broiler chickens. The recluse is not sure that the flight will help him find all the answers to his questions. However, he is sure that "if you find yourself in the dark and you see even a weak beam of light, you should go to it ... just sitting in the dark does not make sense anyway." The main character takes active position. He is not embarrassed by the definition of One-Eye of his life, his freedom: “this is when you are in confusion and loneliness running around the whole plant, dodging a knife for the tenth time ...” The recluse is sure that his efforts will not be in vain. Only once does his love of life betray him. The recluse tells Six-fingered that if they fail this time, he will go with everyone to the first workshop, where the chickens are killed. But even in this case, he is true to his convictions and punishes the student, in turn, to pass on the acquired knowledge to someone.
The flight did take place. It all happened unexpectedly and quickly. “The truth is so simple that it’s even a shame for it,” exclaims the Recluse. The main characters achieved their goal; they managed, if not to find the meaning of their existence, then at least expand the horizons for this search. They escaped death and gained freedom.
"Terrible Soup" personifies the end of the world in the work, even, in a sense, the biblical Judgment Day. Mercy here by and large, no one will. Only the most righteous (read: wicked) can delay it terrible event. The author shows how gullible people can be. In fasting and divine services, without changing themselves at all internally, they desire to work out their well-being in future life. Hell is arranged by the "gods", who use the inhabitants of the world of Six-fingered and the Recluse as food. That is why the main characters preach abstinence in food. Only an unappetizing appearance can prolong life for a while, but deliverance from death is available only to the elect, only to those who have dedicated their entire existence to one single goal - spiritual perfection.
The Recluse and Sixfinger
Taken: , 1
- Back off.
“I said back off. Don't bother watching.
– What are you looking at?
- Here's an idiot, Lord ... Well, in the sun.
Sixfinger looked up from the black surface of the soil strewn with food, sawdust, and crushed peat, and squinted upward.
- Yes ... We live, we live - but why? Secret of the Ages. And has anyone comprehended the subtle thread-like essence of the luminaries?
The stranger turned his head and looked at him with squeamish curiosity.
“Sixfinger,” Sixfinger immediately introduced himself.
“I am the Recluse,” replied the stranger. Is that what they say in society? About a thin threadlike essence?
“No longer with us,” answered Six-Claws, and suddenly whistled. - Wow!
- What? the Hermit asked suspiciously.
- Wow, look! New has arrived!
- So what?
“That never happens in the center of the world. So that three luminaries at once.
The recluse chuckled indulgently.
- And I once saw eleven at once. One at the zenith and five on each epicycle. True, it was not here.
- And where? asked Sixfinger.
The recluse was silent. Turning away, he stepped aside, kicked a piece of food off the ground with his foot and began to eat. A weak warm wind was blowing, two suns were reflected in the gray-green planes of the distant horizon, and in this picture there was so much peace and sadness that the Hermit, who was in thought, noticing Six-fingered in front of him again, even shuddered.
- It is you again. Well, what do you need?
- So. Want to talk.
“Why, you’re not smart, I suppose,” said the Hermit. - It would be better to go into society. And then he wandered off somewhere. Really, come on...
He waved his hand in the direction of a narrow dirty-yellow strip, which writhed and trembled a little - it was hard to believe that a huge noisy crowd looked like this from here.
“I would go,” said Sixfinger, “only they drove me away.”
- Yes? Why? Policy?
Sixfinger nodded and scratched one foot with the other. The recluse looked down at his feet and shook his head.
– Real?
- And then what. They told me so - now we have the most, one might say, decisive stage approaching, and you have six fingers on your feet ... I found, they say, the time ...
- What is the "decisive stage"?
- Don't know. The faces of everyone are distorted, especially those of the Twenty Closest, and you can’t understand anything else. They run, they scream.
“Ah,” said the Hermit, “understood. He, perhaps, every hour more and more distinctly and distinctly? And the contours are all visible?
“Exactly,” said Sixfinger, surprised. - How do you know?
- Yes, I have already seen about five of them, these decisive stages. They are just called differently.
“Yes, well,” said Sixfinger. - It's happening for the first time.
- Still would. It would even be interesting to see how it will happen a second time. But we are a little bit different.
The recluse laughed softly, took a few steps towards the distant society, turned his back to him and began to shuffle his feet with force, so that a whole cloud soon hung behind him, consisting of the remains of food, sawdust and dust. At the same time, he looked around, waved his arms and muttered something.
- What are you? asked Sixfinger, with some dismay, when the Hermit returned, panting.
"It's a gesture," the Hermit replied. - It's a form of art. Read the poem and act accordingly.
What poem are you reading right now?
“That,” said the Hermit.
Sometimes I'm sad
looking at those I left behind.
Sometimes I laugh
and then between us
a yellow mist rises.
“What a poem this is,” said Sixfinger. - Thank God, I know all the poems. Well, that is, not by heart, of course, but I heard all twenty-five. There is no such thing, for sure.
The recluse looked at him in bewilderment, and then, apparently, he understood.
– Do you remember at least one thing? - he asked. - Read it.
- Now. Twins… Twins… Well, in short, there we say one thing, but mean another. And then again we say one thing, but we mean something else, only, as it were, vice versa. It turns out very beautiful. In the end, we raise our eyes to the wall, and there ...
“Enough,” said the Hermit.
There was silence.
“Listen, have you been kicked out too?” – violated his Sixfinger.
- No. I drove them all away.
– Does it happen?
“It happens in every way,” said the Hermit, looked at one of the celestial objects and added in a tone of transition from chatter to a serious conversation: “It will soon become dark.
“Come on,” said Sixfinger, “no one knows when it will get dark.
– But I know. If you want to sleep peacefully, do as I do. - And the Hermit began to rake up heaps of various rubbish lying under his feet, sawdust and pieces of peat. Gradually, he got a wall enclosing a small empty space, quite high, about his height. The recluse walked away from the finished structure, looked at him lovingly and said: “Here. I call it the refuge of the soul.
- Why? asked Sixfinger.
- So. Sounds nice. Are you going to build yourself?
Sixfinger began to tinker. Nothing came out of it - the wall collapsed. To tell the truth, he didn’t really try, because he didn’t believe the Hermit in the least about the onset of darkness, and when the heavenly lights faltered and began to slowly go out, and from the side of society came a nationwide sigh of horror similar to the sound of the wind in the straw, in his heart two strong feelings arose simultaneously: the usual fear of the unexpectedly approaching darkness and the previously unfamiliar admiration for someone who knows more about the world than he does.
“So be it,” said the Hermit, “jump in.” I'll build more.
“I can’t jump,” Sixfinger answered quietly.
“Hello then,” said the Hermit, and suddenly, pushing off the ground with all his strength, he soared up and disappeared behind the wall, after which the entire structure collapsed on him, covering him with a uniform layer of sawdust and peat. The resulting mound trembled for some time, then a small hole appeared in its wall - Six-fingered had still managed to see the shining eye of the Hermit in it - and the final darkness came.
Of course, Six-Claws, as long as he could remember, knew everything there was to know about the night. “This is a natural process,” some said. “The case must be dealt with,” others thought, and there were a majority of them. In general, there were many shades of opinion, but the same thing happened to everyone: when, for no apparent reason, the light went out, after a short and hopeless struggle with convulsions of fear, everyone fell into a stupor, and when they came to their senses (when the luminaries lit up again), they remembered very much few. The same thing happened to Sixfinger while he lived in society, and now - probably because the fear of the ensuing darkness was superimposed on an equal fear of loneliness and, therefore, doubled - he did not fall into the usual saving coma. The distant moaning of the people had already subsided, and he still sat, huddled up, near the mound and quietly wept. There was nothing to be seen around, and when the voice of the Hermit was heard in the darkness, Six-fingered, out of fright, shat right under him.
“Listen, stop hammering,” said the Hermit, “you’re disturbing sleep.”
“I don’t peck,” Sixfinger said softly. - It's a heart. Would you talk to me, would you?
- About what? asked the Hermit.
“About whatever you want, just longer.”
- Let's talk about the nature of fear?
- Oh, don't! squeaked Sixfinger.
- Quiet you! hissed the Recluse. - Now all the rats will run here.
- What rats? What is this? – growing cold, asked Six-fingered.
“These are creatures of the night. Although in fact the day too.
"I've been unlucky in my life," whispered Sixfinger. - If I had as many fingers as I should, I would sleep with everyone now. Lord, what a fear… Rats…
“Listen,” the Hermit began, “you keep repeating—Lord, Lord… do you believe in God?”
- The devil knows. There is something, that's for sure. And what - no one knows. For example, why is it getting dark? Although, of course, it can be explained by natural causes. And if you think about God, then you won’t do anything in life ...
- And what, interestingly, can be done in life? asked the Hermit.
- Like what? Why ask stupid questions - as if you yourself do not know. Everyone, as he can, climbs to the feeder. Law of life.
- It's clear. Why then all this?
- What is this"?
- Well, the universe, the sky, the earth, the luminaries - in general, everything.
- What do you mean why? That's the way the world works.
- And how is it arranged? the Hermit asked with interest.
- That's how it's done. We move in space and time. according to the laws of life.
- And where to?
- How do I know. Secret of the Ages. From you, you know, you can go crazy.
- It can drive you crazy. Whatever you talk about, everything is either the law of life or the secret of the ages.
“If you don’t like it, don’t say that,” Sixfinger said offendedly.
- Yes, I would not say. It's scary to be silent in the dark.
Six-fingered somehow completely forgot about it. Listening to his feelings, he suddenly noticed that he did not feel any fear. This frightened him to such an extent that he jumped to his feet and rushed somewhere blindly, until from all acceleration he hit his head on the Wall of the World, invisible in the darkness.
- Back off.
“I said back off. Don't bother watching.
– What are you looking at?
- Here's an idiot, Lord ... Well, in the sun.
Sixfinger looked up from the black surface of the soil strewn with food, sawdust, and crushed peat, and squinted upward.
- Yes ... We live, we live - but why? Secret of the Ages. And has anyone comprehended the subtle thread-like essence of the luminaries?
The stranger turned his head and looked at him with squeamish curiosity.
“Sixfinger,” Sixfinger immediately introduced himself.
“I am the Recluse,” replied the stranger. Is that what they say in society? About a thin threadlike essence?
“No longer with us,” answered Six-Claws, and suddenly whistled. - Wow!
- What? the Hermit asked suspiciously.
- Wow, look! New has arrived!
- So what?
“That never happens in the center of the world. So that three luminaries at once.
The recluse chuckled indulgently.
- And I once saw eleven at once. One at the zenith and five on each epicycle. True, it was not here.
- And where? asked Sixfinger.
The recluse was silent. Turning away, he stepped aside, kicked a piece of food off the ground with his foot and began to eat. A weak warm wind was blowing, two suns were reflected in the gray-green planes of the distant horizon, and in this picture there was so much peace and sadness that the Hermit, who was in thought, noticing Six-fingered in front of him again, even shuddered.
- It is you again. Well, what do you need?
- So. Want to talk.
“Why, you’re not smart, I suppose,” said the Hermit. - It would be better to go into society. And then he wandered off somewhere. Really, come on...
He waved his hand in the direction of a narrow dirty-yellow strip, which writhed and trembled a little - it was hard to believe that a huge noisy crowd looked like this from here.
“I would go,” said Sixfinger, “only they drove me away.”
- Yes? Why? Policy?
Sixfinger nodded and scratched one foot with the other. The recluse looked down at his feet and shook his head.
– Real?
- And then what. They told me so - now we have the most, one might say, decisive stage approaching, and you have six fingers on your feet ... I found, they say, the time ...
- What is the "decisive stage"?
- Don't know. The faces of everyone are distorted, especially those of the Twenty Closest, and you can’t understand anything else. They run, they scream.
“Ah,” said the Hermit, “understood. He, perhaps, every hour more and more distinctly and distinctly? And the contours are all visible?
“Exactly,” said Sixfinger, surprised. - How do you know?
- Yes, I have already seen about five of them, these decisive stages. They are just called differently.
“Yes, well,” said Sixfinger. - It's happening for the first time.
- Still would. It would even be interesting to see how it will happen a second time. But we are a little bit different.
The recluse laughed softly, took a few steps towards the distant society, turned his back to him and began to shuffle his feet with force, so that a whole cloud soon hung behind him, consisting of the remains of food, sawdust and dust. At the same time, he looked around, waved his arms and muttered something.
- What are you? asked Sixfinger, with some dismay, when the Hermit returned, panting.
"It's a gesture," the Hermit replied. - It's a form of art. Read the poem and act accordingly.
What poem are you reading right now?
“That,” said the Hermit.
Sometimes I'm sad
looking at those I left behind.
Sometimes I laugh
and then between us
a yellow mist rises.
“What a poem this is,” said Sixfinger. - Thank God, I know all the poems. Well, that is, not by heart, of course, but I heard all twenty-five. There is no such thing, for sure.
The recluse looked at him in bewilderment, and then, apparently, he understood.
– Do you remember at least one thing? - he asked. - Read it.
- Now. Twins… Twins… Well, in short, there we say one thing, but mean another. And then again we say one thing, but we mean something else, only, as it were, vice versa. It turns out very beautiful. In the end, we raise our eyes to the wall, and there ...
“Enough,” said the Hermit.
There was silence.
“Listen, have you been kicked out too?” – violated his Sixfinger.
- No. I drove them all away.
– Does it happen?
“It happens in every way,” said the Hermit, looked at one of the celestial objects and added in a tone of transition from chatter to a serious conversation: “It will soon become dark.
“Come on,” said Sixfinger, “no one knows when it will get dark.
– But I know. If you want to sleep peacefully, do as I do. - And the Hermit began to rake up heaps of various rubbish lying under his feet, sawdust and pieces of peat. Gradually, he got a wall enclosing a small empty space, quite high, about his height. The recluse walked away from the finished structure, looked at him lovingly and said: “Here. I call it the refuge of the soul.
- Why? asked Sixfinger.
- So. Sounds nice. Are you going to build yourself?
Sixfinger began to tinker. Nothing came out of it - the wall collapsed. To tell the truth, he didn’t really try, because he didn’t believe the Hermit in the least about the onset of darkness, and when the heavenly lights faltered and began to slowly go out, and from the side of society came a nationwide sigh of horror similar to the sound of the wind in the straw, in his heart two strong feelings arose simultaneously: the usual fear of the unexpectedly approaching darkness and the previously unfamiliar admiration for someone who knows more about the world than he does.
“So be it,” said the Hermit, “jump in.” I'll build more.
“I can’t jump,” Sixfinger answered quietly.
“Hello then,” said the Hermit, and suddenly, pushing off the ground with all his strength, he soared up and disappeared behind the wall, after which the entire structure collapsed on him, covering him with a uniform layer of sawdust and peat. The resulting mound trembled for some time, then a small hole appeared in its wall - Six-fingered had still managed to see the shining eye of the Hermit in it - and the final darkness came.
Of course, Six-Claws, as long as he could remember, knew everything there was to know about the night. “This is a natural process,” some said. “The case must be dealt with,” others thought, and there were a majority of them. In general, there were many shades of opinion, but the same thing happened to everyone: when, for no apparent reason, the light went out, after a short and hopeless struggle with convulsions of fear, everyone fell into a stupor, and when they came to their senses (when the luminaries lit up again), they remembered very much few. The same thing happened to Sixfinger while he lived in society, and now - probably because the fear of the ensuing darkness was superimposed on an equal fear of loneliness and, therefore, doubled - he did not fall into the usual saving coma. The distant moaning of the people had already subsided, and he still sat, huddled up, near the mound and quietly wept. There was nothing to be seen around, and when the voice of the Hermit was heard in the darkness, Six-fingered, out of fright, shat right under him.
“Listen, stop hammering,” said the Hermit, “you’re disturbing sleep.”
“I don’t peck,” Sixfinger said softly. - It's a heart. Would you talk to me, would you?
- About what? asked the Hermit.
“About whatever you want, just longer.”
- Let's talk about the nature of fear?
- Oh, don't! squeaked Sixfinger.
- Quiet you! hissed the Hermit. - Now all the rats will run here.
- What rats? What is this? – growing cold, asked Six-fingered.
“These are creatures of the night. Although in fact the day too.
"I've been unlucky in my life," whispered Sixfinger. - If I had as many fingers as I should, I would sleep with everyone now. Lord, what a fear… Rats…
“Listen,” the Hermit began, “you keep repeating—Lord, Lord… do you believe in God?”
- The devil knows. There is something, that's for sure. And what - no one knows. For example, why is it getting dark? Although, of course, it can be explained by natural causes. And if you think about God, then you won’t do anything in life ...
- And what, interestingly, can be done in life? asked the Hermit.
- Like what? Why ask stupid questions - as if you yourself do not know. Everyone, as he can, climbs to the feeder. Law of life.
- It's clear. Why then all this?
- What is this"?
- Well, the universe, the sky, the earth, the luminaries - in general, everything.
- What do you mean why? That's the way the world works.
- And how is it arranged? the Hermit asked with interest.
- That's how it's done. We move in space and time. according to the laws of life.
- And where to?
- How do I know. Secret of the Ages. From you, you know, you can go crazy.
- It can drive you crazy. Whatever you talk about, everything is either the law of life or the secret of the ages.
“If you don’t like it, don’t say that,” Sixfinger said offendedly.
- Yes, I would not say. It's scary to be silent in the dark.
Six-fingered somehow completely forgot about it. Listening to his feelings, he suddenly noticed that he did not feel any fear. This frightened him to such an extent that he jumped to his feet and rushed somewhere blindly, until from all acceleration he hit his head on the Wall of the World, invisible in the darkness.
The Hermit's creaky laughter was heard from afar, and Six-fingered, carefully rearranging his legs, wandered towards these only sounds in the general darkness and silence. Having reached the mound under which the Hermit was sitting, he silently lay down beside him and, trying not to pay attention to the cold, tried to sleep. The moment when it happened, he did not even notice.
“Today you and I will climb over the Wall of the World, got it? said the Hermit.
Six-fingered was just running up to the refuge of the soul. The building itself came out of him almost the same as that of the Hermit, but the jump was successful only after a long run, and now he was training. The meaning of what was said came to him just when he had to jump, and as a result he crashed into a flimsy structure so that peat and sawdust, instead of covering his entire body with an even soft layer, turned into a heap heaped over his head, and his legs lost support. and hung helplessly in the void. The hermit helped him out and repeated:
“Today we will go beyond the Wall of the World.
In recent days, Six-fingered had heard enough from him that something creaked and groaned all the time in his soul, and his former life in society seemed like a funny fantasy (or maybe a vulgar nightmare - he definitely hadn’t decided yet), but it was too much .
Meanwhile the hermit continued:
- The decisive stage comes after every seventy eclipses. And yesterday was the sixty-ninth. Numbers rule the world.
And he pointed to a long chain of straws sticking out of the soil near the World Wall itself.
– Yes, how can one climb over the Wall of the World, if it is the Wall of the World? After all, in the name itself ... After all, there is nothing behind it ...
Sixfinger was so dumbfounded that he did not even pay attention to the dark mystical explanations of the Recluse, from which he would otherwise have spoiled his mood.
- So what, - answered the Hermit, - that there is nothing. This should only make us happy.
– What are we going to do there?
"What's wrong with us here?"
- And the fact, fool, that this "here" will not be soon.
– What will happen?
"Stay here, you'll know then." Nothing will happen.
Sixfinger felt that he had completely lost confidence in what was happening.
Why do you scare me all the time?
“Don’t worry,” muttered the Hermit, peering anxiously at some point in the sky. “Beyond the Wall of Peace is not bad at all. For me, it's much better than here.
He walked over to the remains of the soul shelter built by Six-fingered and began to scatter them around with his feet.
- Why are you? asked Sixfinger.
- Before leaving any world, one must generalize the experience of one's stay in it, and then destroy all traces of oneself. This is a tradition.
- And who invented it?
- Who cares. Well, I. There is no one else here, you see. Like this…
The recluse looked at the result of his labor - in the place of the collapsed building there was now a perfectly flat place, no different from the surface of the rest of the desert.
“Everything,” he said, “I destroyed the traces. Now we need to generalize the experience. Now it's your turn. Climb on this bump and tell.
Sixfinger felt that he had been outwitted, leaving him with the hardest and, most importantly, incomprehensible part of the work. But after the eclipse incident, he decided to obey the Hermit. Shrugging his shoulders and looking around to see if anyone from society had wandered in here, he climbed onto a hummock.
– What to tell?
Everything you know about the world.
“We’ll be stuck here for a long time,” Sixfinger whistled.
“I don’t think so,” said the Hermit dryly.
- So, yes. Our world... Well, you have an idiotic ritual...
- Do not be distracted.
– Our world is a regular octagon, uniformly and rectilinearly moving in space. Here we are preparing for a decisive stage, the crown of our lives. This is the official wording, anyway. The so-called Wall of the World runs along the perimeter of the world, which objectively arose as a result of the action of the laws of life. In the center of the world there is a two-tiered feeder-drinker, around which our civilization has long existed. The position of a member of society in relation to the feeder-drinker is determined by his social significance and merits ...
“That’s something I haven’t heard before,” the Hermit interrupted. What is merit? And public importance?
- Well ... How to say ... This is when someone gets to the feeder-drinker itself.
- And who gets to her?
- I say, the one who has great merit. Or public importance. For example, I used to have so-so merits, but now none at all. What, you don't know the folk model of the universe?
“I don’t know,” said the Hermit.
– What are you doing?.. And how did you prepare for the decisive stage?
- And almost everything. What else is there… Behind the area of society there is a great desert, and everything ends with the Wall of the World. Outlaws like us huddle around her.
- It's clear. Renegades. Where did the log come from? I mean, what did they split off from?
- Well, you give ... Even the Twenty Closest will not tell you this. Secret of the Ages.
“W-well, fine. And what is the secret of the ages?
“The law of life,” Sixfinger replied, trying to speak softly. He did not like something in the intonations of the Hermit.
- OK. What is the law of life?
“This is the secret of the ages.
- The secret of the ages? the Hermit repeated in a strangely thin voice and slowly began to approach Six-fingered in an arc.
- What are you? Cum! Six-fingered was frightened. This is your ritual!
But the Hermit had already pulled himself together.
“All right,” he said. - Get down.
Six-fingered got down from the tussock, and the Hermit, with a concentrated and serious look, climbed into his place. He was silent for a while, as if listening to something, and then raised his head and spoke.
“I came here from another world,” he said, “in the days when you were still very young. And I came to that other world from the third, and so on. I have been to five worlds in total. They are the same as this one, and practically do not differ from each other. And the universe where we are is a huge enclosed space. In the language of the gods, it is called the Lunacharsky Broiler Plant, but what this means is unknown even to them.
Do you know the language of the gods? – Six-fingered asked in astonishment.
- A little. Do not interrupt. There are seventy worlds in the universe. We are currently in one of them. These worlds are attached to an immense black ribbon that moves slowly in a circle. And above it, on the surface of the sky, there are hundreds of identical luminaries. So it's not they who float above us, but we swim below them. Try to imagine it.
Sixfinger closed his eyes. Tension showed on his face.
"No, I can't," he finally said.
“All right,” said the Hermit, “listen on. All seventy worlds that exist in the universe are called the Chain of Worlds. In any case, it is quite possible to call them that. In each of the worlds there is life, but it does not exist there permanently, but cyclically arises and disappears. The decisive stage takes place at the center of the universe, through which all the worlds pass in turn. In the language of the gods, it is called Workshop Number One. Our world is just in front of it. When the decisive stage is completed and the updated world comes out from the other side of Workshop number one, everything starts all over again. Life arises, cycles through, and after a certain period of time, it is again plunged into Workshop number one.
End of introductory segment.
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- Back off.
“I said back off. Don't bother watching.
– What are you looking at?
- Here's an idiot, Lord ... Well, in the sun.
Sixfinger looked up from the black surface of the soil strewn with food, sawdust, and crushed peat, and squinted upward.
- Yes ... We live, we live - but why? Secret of the Ages. And has anyone comprehended the subtle thread-like essence of the luminaries?
The stranger turned his head and looked at him with squeamish curiosity.
“Sixfinger,” Sixfinger immediately introduced himself.
“I am the Recluse,” replied the stranger. Is that what they say in society? About a thin threadlike essence?
“No longer with us,” answered Six-Claws, and suddenly whistled. - Wow!
- What? the Hermit asked suspiciously.
- Wow, look! New has arrived!
- So what?
“That never happens in the center of the world. So that three luminaries at once.
The recluse chuckled indulgently.
- And I once saw eleven at once. One at the zenith and five on each epicycle. True, it was not here.
- And where? asked Sixfinger.
The recluse was silent. Turning away, he stepped aside, kicked a piece of food off the ground with his foot and began to eat. A weak warm wind was blowing, two suns were reflected in the gray-green planes of the distant horizon, and in this picture there was so much peace and sadness that the Hermit, who was in thought, noticing Six-fingered in front of him again, even shuddered.
- It is you again. Well, what do you need?
- So. Want to talk.
“Why, you’re not smart, I suppose,” said the Hermit. - It would be better to go into society. And then he wandered off somewhere. Really, come on...
He waved his hand in the direction of a narrow dirty-yellow strip, which writhed and trembled a little - it was hard to believe that a huge noisy crowd looked like this from here.
“I would go,” said Sixfinger, “only they drove me away.”
- Yes? Why? Policy?
Sixfinger nodded and scratched one foot with the other. The recluse looked down at his feet and shook his head.
– Real?
- And then what. They told me so - now we have the most, one might say, decisive stage approaching, and you have six fingers on your feet ... I found, they say, the time ...
- What is the "decisive stage"?
- Don't know. The faces of everyone are distorted, especially those of the Twenty Closest, and you can’t understand anything else. They run, they scream.
“Ah,” said the Hermit, “understood. He, perhaps, every hour more and more distinctly and distinctly? And the contours are all visible?
“Exactly,” said Sixfinger, surprised. - How do you know?
- Yes, I have already seen about five of them, these decisive stages. They are just called differently.
“Yes, well,” said Sixfinger. - It's happening for the first time.
- Still would. It would even be interesting to see how it will happen a second time. But we are a little bit different.
The recluse laughed softly, took a few steps towards the distant society, turned his back to him and began to shuffle his feet with force, so that a whole cloud soon hung behind him, consisting of the remains of food, sawdust and dust. At the same time, he looked around, waved his arms and muttered something.
- What are you? asked Sixfinger, with some dismay, when the Hermit returned, panting.
"It's a gesture," the Hermit replied. - It's a form of art. Read the poem and act accordingly.
What poem are you reading right now?
“That,” said the Hermit.
Sometimes I'm sad
looking at those I left behind.
Sometimes I laugh
and then between us
a yellow mist rises.
“What a poem this is,” said Sixfinger. - Thank God, I know all the poems. Well, that is, not by heart, of course, but I heard all twenty-five. There is no such thing, for sure.
The recluse looked at him in bewilderment, and then, apparently, he understood.
– Do you remember at least one thing? - he asked. - Read it.
- Now. Twins… Twins… Well, in short, there we say one thing, but mean another. And then again we say one thing, but we mean something else, only, as it were, vice versa. It turns out very beautiful. In the end, we raise our eyes to the wall, and there ...
“Enough,” said the Hermit.
There was silence.
“Listen, have you been kicked out too?” – violated his Sixfinger.
- No. I drove them all away.
– Does it happen?
“It happens in every way,” said the Hermit, looked at one of the celestial objects and added in a tone of transition from chatter to a serious conversation: “It will soon become dark.
“Come on,” said Sixfinger, “no one knows when it will get dark.
– But I know. If you want to sleep peacefully, do as I do. - And the Hermit began to rake up heaps of various rubbish lying under his feet, sawdust and pieces of peat. Gradually, he got a wall enclosing a small empty space, quite high, about his height. The recluse walked away from the finished structure, looked at him lovingly and said: “Here. I call it the refuge of the soul.
- Why? asked Sixfinger.
- So. Sounds nice. Are you going to build yourself?
Sixfinger began to tinker. Nothing came out of it - the wall collapsed. To tell the truth, he didn’t really try, because he didn’t believe the Hermit in the least about the onset of darkness, and when the heavenly lights faltered and began to slowly go out, and from the side of society came a nationwide sigh of horror similar to the sound of the wind in the straw, in his heart two strong feelings arose simultaneously: the usual fear of the unexpectedly approaching darkness and the previously unfamiliar admiration for someone who knows more about the world than he does.
“So be it,” said the Hermit, “jump in.” I'll build more.
“I can’t jump,” Sixfinger answered quietly.
“Hello then,” said the Hermit, and suddenly, pushing off the ground with all his strength, he soared up and disappeared behind the wall, after which the entire structure collapsed on him, covering him with a uniform layer of sawdust and peat. The resulting mound trembled for some time, then a small hole appeared in its wall - Six-fingered had still managed to see the shining eye of the Hermit in it - and the final darkness came.
Of course, Six-Claws, as long as he could remember, knew everything there was to know about the night. “This is a natural process,” some said. “The case must be dealt with,” others thought, and there were a majority of them. In general, there were many shades of opinion, but the same thing happened to everyone: when, for no apparent reason, the light went out, after a short and hopeless struggle with convulsions of fear, everyone fell into a stupor, and when they came to their senses (when the luminaries lit up again), they remembered very much few. The same thing happened to Sixfinger while he lived in society, and now - probably because the fear of the ensuing darkness was superimposed on an equal fear of loneliness and, therefore, doubled - he did not fall into the usual saving coma. The distant moaning of the people had already subsided, and he still sat, huddled up, near the mound and quietly wept. There was nothing to be seen around, and when the voice of the Hermit was heard in the darkness, Six-fingered, out of fright, shat right under him.
“Listen, stop hammering,” said the Hermit, “you’re disturbing sleep.”
“I don’t peck,” Sixfinger said softly. - It's a heart. Would you talk to me, would you?
- About what? asked the Hermit.
“About whatever you want, just longer.”
- Let's talk about the nature of fear?
- Oh, don't! squeaked Sixfinger.
- Quiet you! hissed the Hermit. - Now all the rats will run here.
- What rats? What is this? – growing cold, asked Six-fingered.
“These are creatures of the night. Although in fact the day too.
"I've been unlucky in my life," whispered Sixfinger. - If I had as many fingers as I should, I would sleep with everyone now. Lord, what a fear… Rats…
“Listen,” the Hermit began, “you keep repeating—Lord, Lord… do you believe in God?”
