In the 2000s, when I was 18, I persuaded my mother to let me go to my family in Dnipropetrovsk (Ukraine). We went every year, but this time it didn’t work.

Only 3 days on the train and I was in Moscow) there I had to sit in the waiting room at 6 a.m. and move onto another train to Dnipro.

In the train, I met my family: my mother and two graduate sons were going to Peter to enroll. And here we sit with them in the waiting room, Mom went out to buy something. They are waiting for their train, I am my own. by Boltaem. And here are 3 bulls, I saw such necks for the first time (do not hold hands) and begin to calmly press us so. Give them all the money or we’ll break your legs right away. A lot of people around us, but all at one time stuck in newspapers, magazines. Even the grandmothers fell asleep. To say that it was scary is to say nothing. My mom put my money in the underwear on the way and I already imagined how to get the money from there in the middle of the station. When they caught one of the guys, his mother appeared far away and she cried. It’s not just apologizing for what’s happening. Namely, a wild scream on the whole station and here immediately the police, who looked at us peacefully began to confuse and reassure her. The chiefs left quietly. It was a great experience for me to behave unstandardly in difficult situations and not hope for a large crowd of people.

xxx: By the way, who can say, I sometimes call numbers from Germany, the Netherlands, as I raise the phone immediately thrown down. Google is not broken. What a fist?

You are a “sleeping agent.” For general safety, you were removed from your memory and replaced with false memories that you were an ordinary family member and a worker. But the world is in danger again, so the Federal Intelligence Service of Germany is trying to activate you by calling and by phone transmitting an infrasound code that should awaken real memories. Unfortunately, you have lived in Russia for too long, your brain is too softened by alcohol and reading social networks and does not respond to the signals to action.



The world on the brink of collapse...

Many years ago I worked as a seller in a store selling discs (DVD, mp3 and all this wild). The work was quite steep, I saw all kinds of representatives of the straight, but now it's not about that.



We worked alternately for 2 people, we were 3rd, two girls and me.

And then one day before lunch one of the girls complained that her boyfriend put a wallpaper on the phone with naked grandmothers. We discussed this topic and a brilliant idea came to our mind - to put her naked men in the phone.

There was no internet at work, but my home, where I had a PC with network access, was literally across the road. I decided to go home for lunch and find pictures of naked men.



He came home, turned on the music by the habit of louder (something al-la infant annihilator), he warmed up to eat and sat down to look.

He lived without his parents, but his father always had the keys and free access to the apartment.



I sit looking, eat my lunch and here the track is quiet, before switching to the next and behind my back I hear the voice of my father: "You are on***, what p***c?“”



For a long time I proved that it was not what he thought, the good of the partner didn’t get stuck and immediately confirmed my words. ))

The terms for the Presidential decrees have expired: working days, non-working days, weekends, weekend workers, weekends non-working workers, holiday workers, holiday weekends, working non-working workers and non-working self-isolating workers.

One of the conditions to go to work with pleasure is to love your job.
But is it hard to love your job and bring people a good mood?
Or is it involuntary to make others admire their work, not creative at all?

From my life in Moscow, I remembered two such people.
1st She worked at the metro station Octoberskaya, where the transition from the ring to the radial is a small escalator in length and depth. The officer’s budka looked “with the face” at the descendants.
During those years, she seemed to me old) with a faint face, always in a red cap, and always with lively eyes and a smile on her face.
She was unrepeatable and irresistible) She addressed almost everyone who descended on "her" escalator, with a smile, who had time - said some kind words, somehow joked, looking at her, the mood was always up.
When we saw her, we always smiled, she was like a single whole with the station of Octoberskaya)Without a cap, we could no longer imagine this transition. It was evident that the work was pleasing to her.
Work on an escalator with the maximum length of 30 meters
Oh my cap! This is how we called her between us. Subconsciously expecting that every time we move to the radial, we will see it, saddened when there was no change. There was no ordinary ritual. There was no reason to smile. Something good and usual was missing.
And then she disappeared. She was replaced by duty officers with a dull downward glance and an indifferent face.
Looking into the monitor? She also looked into the monitor. But her service raised everyone’s mood.

2nd The end of the 90s - the beginning of the 2000s. I am at the beginning of the highway. Communal services are paid only in Sberbank - or then still Sberkassa? I don’t remember, in my area this process could take half a day, and I couldn’t afford such a luxury. In front of the work, in Mogajka, right at the stop, there is also a sberbank, but it was even worse than in my five-storey Cheremuškki with houses that were sprinkled like mushrooms after a good rain.
On the other side of the neighborhood, where there was an office, was, and now I think is, the Red Star Street, and in one of the corner houses on the nine-story was Sberbank and the post office.
The area here was also inhabited and the neighborhood was dormant, but on the other side of the Red Stars were railways and the number of potential visitors to these vital objects at the time was narrowed to the inhabitants of the neighborhood, houses inhabited in the 60-70s. The neighborhood was also in ruins.
And I used to spend lunch time paying the communal in this sberkass.
The window was, if I am not mistaken, not less than 3, the line was also, but in one window the line was always almost lightning. So by the empirical method I began to pay only in this window.
A professional worked there. No, not the professional. The highest class. No one ever stood by her window. She only had to look at the receipt and tell me where the numbers were wrong—if there was a mistake—I had the impression that she knew all of those numerous account numbers, consisting of 20 digits. In turn, if it arose due to a technical interruption, it was dissolved immediately. All the comments on the receipts she had were clear and short, excluding a repeat question. Because it was clear)

I went to this sberkassa, rather to this operationalist, for several years. I told my colleagues about it, they didn't believe me) we went to make sure. Everyone was, say, very surprised.
I told her about her at home. I was not believed either.
I went specifically to check, now my households were surprised.

Once again, I went to pay for this scrap.
The officer stood at the entrance and smoked. She looked somewhere, thinking about something, at least her face was not smiling. I went into the room and then thought and went out. When there will be such a chance.

“I would like to tell you that you are a real professional... You work this way, you always help everyone in these intricate numbers and, most importantly, quickly. Do not stay in line for a long time. Thanks to you!
thank you! The operator was surprised and somehow delighted. “You’re the only one who said good words to me,” she smiled bitterly. I have complaints to my boss. I work too fast. I have hated the Soviet times. The local grandmothers don’t like it. They want to stand in line...

I don’t remember if Sberbank employees had badges at that time, but there was a sign with the employee’s name and surname on the bench.
Svetlana Odoevskaya, thank you again!

Sechin asked Putin for state support for Rosneft. “We need the help of the state,” he said.
He has to allocate a one-off payment of 10,000 rubles, as mothers with children.

I rested with my mother in the sanatorium and she enrolled me for a reception. For free, it is included in the price of the trip. The psychologist got a bunch of leaves and signed what to draw on each. There were “the house”, “I”, “my family”, “the non-existent animal” and I don’t remember what else. She gave them to me in the room as a homework. I only had a pencil ball with me. No pencil, flommasters and so on. An unusual tool for a child)) In short, the house was painted with stripes so that the line of the walls was smoother. Because I painted on the bed, putting an A4 sheet on a book that was about the size of A5. It was not possible to make the line immediately. And in the self-portrait, in order not to draw my fingers, which I always managed only to try the tenth (and there is no pencil with a washing machine), I painted my hands in my pockets. By the way, family members also did not hold their hands, because she did not know how to draw the folded fingers with one attempt. In short, on the basis of these facts (the lines of the walls and the hands in my pockets) the doctor made my psychological portrait. Nothing good came out there) And uncertainty, and closure, and lack of unity in the family... I tried to explain the lack of a pencil, but no one listened to me. I hated psychologists.

Harvard epidemiologist Eric Feigl-Dean conducted an experiment with ten people to demonstrate how quickly microbes spread in a cafe or foot court.

He took a fluorescent paint and applied it to one person’s hands. Half an hour later, all ten people had the paint, three of them even on their faces.

My friend once put a small son rectal suppositories (according to the doctor's prescription, I don't know what exactly). The son, being a natural, was very upset and decided that he would never want to repeat this procedure. My father got in touch and began to remind me of candles every time. The type "you will not dress warm - you will get sick, you will have to put candles again" or "you will eat badly - there will be problems and we will put candles."



Once a child was playing in a playground with other children under the supervision of their mothers. My friend’s son barely put some ugliness in his mouth. My friend immediately grabbed his son, which he blamelessly said, "Dad, I will not be like that anymore, but I don't have to squeeze anything in the pop."

XXX: I have a story.

I noticed that the wife of my comrade began to build my eyes and then to open the pencil, to shake the 5th, then accidentally hit the width. I enjoy this, the more the girl is prominent and all good, but this is the wife of a comrade and therefore - a taboo! He was constantly rejected by invitations to a cup of tea to a comrade, in exchange for calling to himself or to the cocktail, where we drank with him). Learned that they are divorced and that he does not understand what this fool needs, and the money in the family is and his health is excellent, and she is angry and scandalizes constantly.

They divorced and a couple of days later he left with things and their common square on a long journey. We celebrated with him his freedom and his departure as in the army, fun, loud and long. The next day I spent the whole day at the water.

More like in the movie!

In the evening the door bell - a white-haired beauty in a coat stands on the threshold and asks for guests. If Budan has not yet let go, if painted it was too bright and unusual, but I honestly did not even immediately recognize the former wife of the comrade whose yesterday accompanied.

Of course let in. She does not remove her long heels, from which her back is so slightly washed back, and then shaking them from side to side with her graceful walk passes into the room where the TV flashes, I quietly raise my jaw and melt the track. At the center of the room, it unfolds, and with the words - I am to you, I'm all yours strips off the coat and under it only a naked body. I confess admired her for a while, her gorgeous figure, breasts, long hair that so beautifully lay on her buttocks, and then asked - I want tea?

She shrugged her coat, but agreed.

We sat in the kitchen, I tried to make her understand that it was not right, the wife though the former but my friend and that I will not change our friendship for a hole and so on, she made a few more attempts but in vain, in the end I called her a taxi and sent home.

Some month later, I meet a comrade on the street, he cried out to me from a distance, all the lights in the guest cries, says that his wife has calmed down, she called him and offered to come together, he on the joys of a business trip arrived much earlier due to this. I found a lot of reasons not to come. At the next meeting told me that the child is already planning, and then I decided to invite him to me.

He came from a darker cloud, argued with his wife, said that to me and she broke out of the chain and again scandals about nothing, he shrugged his hand and left. Put on the table a liter, at the end of the bubble I still told him what I had at home after his departure and that he does not need to have children with it. Comrade psychoanul and with the words of killing flew home.

A week later, he calls me and, like nothing else, offers me to sit down, he says mentally the last time it was, a good friend added. I was surprised but agreed, I did not recognize him when I met him, he shines even brighter, holds his hand tightly, hugs, knocks on his shoulder, and repeats constantly that I am his true Friend. I am completely surprised what is happening, well, after another Saturday drink he told me - that his wife formerly formed, her life took her, took herself into her hands, the child again wanted, and all that was with me, it was she decided to check his surroundings how much I am a good friend to him, and I asked for this check!! to



Yyy: Yes, it’s just a socially acceptable explanation. Most likely, a friend clarified the relationship, then calmed down, flattered and decided to stay with his wife. But there is a problem - he has a friend to whom his wife offered herself all that, and who directly advised to send her away. It turns out, you need to either stop communicating with a friend, or put yourself in front of him full of deer and cloth. And he (she? are they?) This is a convenient version for everyone.

You may have pretended to believe. You did right – otherwise a friend would have to choose between your wife and you, and he didn’t want it. In politics, this is called “allowing to preserve the face.”

I go to work in the evening. The children walk, my way runs along the trail between the garages, there is a confinement lounge, I go beyond the corner of the garages and I have time to notice that the cover of the lounge turns and lies almost in place. I decided to see what was there, and there the boy failed and I can't get him, I'm looking for a suitable rod (rope, etc.) There’s nothing around, I remember that there’s a belt on the jeans, I take off the bag down, the boy grabs him, I pull it out. I begin to put the belt in place, at this moment a man comes out from the corner and looks at the picture, I stand with the belt pulled out behind the towns with a crying boy. Well, the boy confirmed my words about saving him.

The inaction of the authorities always leads to the self-activity of the people.

The Last Fishing

Vasya – my comrade operator-extremist bought somewhere in the Yaroslavl village a house near the water, to come there in the summer with vodka, and back with fish, if lucky. I picked up the car with my brother. Terrible, not especially painted and even without wings, but the trailer turned out to be quite spacious and clearly strong. We loaded up to the refusal with all the rugged good and spandored to "Niva". I was also summoned to three, in a purely male company, to go missing for a week, to remember youth, to cook ears.

But the day before the departure, Vasyn's grandfather, a godfather and a Moscow intellectual in some generation, met, so, he also asked us for fishing.

Vasya and his brother, of course, began to answer him:

- Grandfather, well, you yourself think, four hundred kilometers in the heat to shake, and also your wheelchair (grandfather, then failed to fall, broke the hip neck and temporarily moved to the wheelchair). Well, okay, let the wheelchair go to the trailer, but no matter, grandfather, why are you so nervous? You’re ninety-two and you’re under pressure.
- Nothing that pressure, twenty grams of watermelon I will take as a hand... That is the fact that I have ninety-two, and I have never been fishing, but just gathered. Thro his life he has been breathing lead in his printing. And then, who takes me to the first and last fishing, like my grandchildren?

The roof was nothing, took my grandfather.

And here, in the evening, on the terribly liquid road after the rain, we naturally stuck. And also in the hill. All we needed was fifteen meters to the top of the hill, and here it is, our village. "Niva" roars, dirt is thrown, and we rise in the trailer, the veins are torn. One behind the wheel, two push, then we change, only the grandfather in the front seat sits, cries, worries. We have already removed the bags from the trailer and the inflatable boat and the wheelchair. There was only a diesel generator left, but it only weighed like a tank.

Here we stood back again, and we cannot move a millimeter, suddenly "Niva" smelt and grandfather called us with Vasey. We have arrived.

I just turned around and saw that you were pushing the truck wrong.
In other words, are we wrong? We push it all, and what else?
You were like little kids and still wanted to go without me. The instruction is simple: one lies with the chest on the left wheel, the other on the right, resting your feet on the ground and the business will go. The trick is that the top of the wheel moves much easier than the whole wheel, and the hands here are not especially needed, the main legs.

Nothing to do, I lay down with a white shirt on the dirty wheel, and the matter really moved from a dead spot. Twenty minutes later we were on the mountain. They rested.

Vasya asked:

Grandpa, how do you know how to push the trailer? You have never had a car, you have no right.
There were no cars. and what? But I had a rifle and I drove it two thousand kilometers behind the wheel with my chest.

P.S

Two years later, Grandpa went to his squadron. They ride there, probably, their rifle, smoke and tell each other wretched anecdotes.

The Day of Victory.
Remember those guys.

“Dear man, I made blinkers and removed the car a little.
What did you do?
The Blinds.

My husband has not worked since the end of April. At first, he metals like a tiger in a cage without work, without the usual mode, without other people. Then relaxed a little. I drank wine and watched the series. I decided to do repairs in the kitchen. have done. We make the last strikes. A little worried that the money was running out. I thought it was enough until June. Yesterday he was sinking after reading a message on Viber. I thought at least someone was fired. I already introduced as breakfast, lunch and dinner I cook potatoes for children without salt and then he says, "From tomorrow I go to work. at all.”

My village grandmother, a child of war, received only seven classes of education, but she has a great desire for reading. She reads slowly, but thoughtfully and concentrated, and the circle of her interests is wide - from the poems, the most liked of which the grandmother writes out in a notebook, to the yellow press, which provides her visiting relatives.



Ten years ago there was a popular magazine "Speed-Info" and it regularly fell into the hands of my grandmother. She read articles and notes with curiosity, while clarifying in us, young and advanced, the meanings of her incomprehensible terms, such as “deep mint” (sic!) or “golden rain” and, having received our explanations, admired the inventiveness of the modern generation.



And here one day she got in the eye of an article, telling about a man with a sex organ more than 40 cm long. “Pff, only 40” would say any pick-up, but my grandmother was impressed by this information not for a joke. After sharing the sensational news with the household, the grandmother decided to bring knowledge to the world and called a stationary phone to a friend in the neighboring village.



A friend refused to believe in the truthfulness of the information, despite the passionate assurances of the grandmother that the miracle-man she did not invent, and read about him in the newspaper, and in the newspaper, as everyone knows, lies will not be written.



Outraged by the unbelief of a friend, the grandmother decided to throw her spruce, and after a few days the driver of the baking machine, traveling around the village twice a week, drove, probably, the most unusual load in his entire career - the magazine "Speed-Info", carefully uncovered and placed on the desired page.



And if anyone wondered why I, the child of two mathematicians, was engaged in sexology, I answered without a doubt that I definitely went to the grandmother. Pedanticity in references to primary sources,, too.

We go to the entrance.

Do you see a beautiful flower in the entrance?

Well I see?

I had a bag of selfies. When I smoked, I went out and threw 1-2 balls and watered. I see the flowers so beautiful. I think I am a good guy. I give the flower so much energy that it continues to bloom.

And what?

Six months later, I began to suspect. Flowers and flowers. I touched him. The plastic doll. I went to check the sight for every case - the glasses were removed. I did not know that the village was a village.

In the morning, a friend called my wife, they talked for a long time, I did not listen, but according to the answers "everything will be fine", "hold on", and so on. I realized something happened. When the conversation was over, the wife that Lena had filed for divorce. I did not communicate with Lena or her husband, but I was still interested, they married a little more than six months ago, I ask:

Couldn’t society bear each other’s isolation?

It was immediately apparent that she would not be with him for a long time.

...??? to

- Remember, I went to her before the wedding, they just started dating. And she invited him to visit, like to introduce me. And then she poured on him a soup, and eventually he struck her that the soup was hot and he burned his mouth. She cooled him by mixing with a spoon, but he was offended and did not eat. He sat down with us a little and left. I cannot imagine living with such a man.

When the result is not important, there are no irreplaceable ones.

Alexy woke up with a cell phone. Touching him under the bed, he leaned his phone to his ear.

Leah is healthy! What are you sleeping, right?

Called Igor, a colleague of work with whom they have been friends over the past year and often spent time together.

I can’t sleep anymore, Alexis.

Are you going to the parade? In other words, with portraits. We’re all here in the office, are you with us?

No, I will probably be at home.

In the sense? The answer surprised Igor. Day of Victory, of course.

I have no photos. How shall I go?

Well and what? If you want, I’ll give you a picture of my grandfather and you’ll go with it. I had two struggles, one on my father’s line and the other on my mother’s.

“Yes, Igor, what are you saying like that? They are your ancestors.

What about passing by with mine? What difference? Come and gather. After the parade, we head to the forest. Let us celebrate.

Alexis looked out the window. The May sun was already gaining strength, and filled the green trees with light and heat.

“Igor, don’t be upset, but I’m home today.

Why is he there? I heard someone’s voice in the dynamic. It goes, isn’t it?

— Wait, now — replied Igor to someone. Leah, let’s get up. What are you really? Or... he took a break. Do you hear? Has anyone fought with you?

Igor, let’s go without it. Alexis breathed up.

“Well, it’s all clear then,” Igor said somewhat ironically. Everything is understandable with you.

What do you understand?

It is all! I went to your page this morning, and there is not even a tape. Okay let me. Stay at home in sorrow.

And here...

Alexei did not have time to finish the phrase, as the trumpets were spread short, and there was silence behind them. He laid the phone on the floor and, dropped on the pillow, closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he breathed and got up from bed. After washing and brushing his teeth, Alexei dressed up and, putting on a light jacket, left the house.

Oh my neighbor! The Leha! I heard a familiar voice from the playground.

Alexey turned around and saw that his neighbor, Victor Romanovich, was mastering his hand on the staircase. He and his friends sat next to the sandbox. A few steps from him there was a small mangal on the ground, across which there were several shampoos, with pieces of meat on them. Alexey hugged him in response and was already going to go further, but the neighbor was determined.

and Leha! Come to us!

Alexei pointed his finger to the wrist of his left hand, trying to explain to Victor Romanovich that he was late, but he did not take care.

May you succeed! Go here!

Realizing that it was so easy not to get rid of him, Alexey walked towards the sandbox.

Congratulations to you, Lech! The neighbor tightly grabbed Alexei’s hand.

“And you with a celebration,” he replied.

This is Leah, my neighbor. Meet you guys.

The neighbor introduced each of his friends, and then stretched Aleksei a drink, half-filled with a transparent liquid.

Let’s drink for the victory.

“I don’t drink much, Uncle Witt.

Let it, let it. Today can be.

I am driving, I can’t.

There will be nothing. What there? and 10 grams. Even the smell will not remain.

Alexey took a drink in his hand and put it on a bench that replaced the table.

– Uncle Vitty, thank you, but I need to go.

Did you get it, and you put it back? Suddenly one of Victor Romanovich’s friends spoke. Or are you one of those?

From Which?

All, all have calmed down. Vadik, what are you doing? Victor Romanovich stood up between them, spreading his hands to the sides. He does not want to drink, let him not drink.

“I know that,” Vadiq whispered, “has anyone fought with you? Why are you silent?

“Vadik, get tired,” another friend engaged in the conversation. Why did you hit the boy? You see, young man. He probably doesn’t know what a celebration is today.

That is what I am talking about! When he turned, Vadik rounded his eyes. He wanted to add something more, but only shrugged his hand and, bringing out a pack of cigarettes, smoked.

“I’ll go, Uncle Vit,” said Alexey quietly.

“Aga, go, Lesh, go,” Victor Romanovich, guiltyly turning his eyes to the side, sneered. Don’t get offended by Vadik, okay? He takes this celebration very seriously. Both of his grandparents died in the war.

“Nothing,” Alexis cried, “I understand.

He came out of the courtyard, reached the parking lot and, tapping the alarm barrel in his pocket, opened his car. Starting the engine, he put his hands on the steering wheel and lowered his head on them. When the engine warmed up, Alexei turned on the transmission and went to the road leading out of the city.

*** by

“And I say to him, ‘I don’t have pictures,’ what am I going to do? He said to me, “Everything is clear with you.” What does he understand? If I really don’t have them? Some hints are still stupid... He thinks I probably have something to be ashamed of. I think some of my ancestors were traitors, or something like that.

Alexey shrugged his hands and sat down on the trunk of the fallen tree.

The one in the yard. Also a strange person - once you don't drink, it means one of these. Which “these”? I don’t understand... – he shrugged his shoulders and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the rear side of his palm. - I didn't put the picture on my page - it turns out that you are ignoring the holiday. The tape was not attached to the antenna - a traitor. I did not drink for Victory - it means something is wrong with you, something is wrong with your soul. Is it right? You know, even someone felt guilty today.

He silenced and, breaking the grass, began to turn it in his hands.

Even at school I was sometimes called a fascist. In a joke, of course. By May 9, all classmates brought photos of their grandparents. They talked about them, about their actions. Sometimes even medals were shown. I never told anything. What had I to say? What did they all lose in that war? Everyone, like one, has disappeared. Who is interested in such stories? All the heroes... What am I telling you? You know it better than me.

Alexis looked at the side. The trees of the old forest stood around him silently, as if they were listening to his words. He turned his eyes and looked at a small hill in front of him, on which a small, no more than a meter high, metal obelisk with a bended star on top. There was no name or date. Alexey stood up and, gathering the grass pulled from the tomb of the nameless soldier, took it aside. Then he came back and sat down on the barrel again.

I will sit with you a little longer. Both will always be more fun. Who knows, maybe somewhere now and with my grandparents someone came to talk. It would be good. They would probably be pleased.