Bragin looked up. The leaves on the poplars were already beginning to blossom. Behind all these events, behind all this turmoil, spring, which was winning back its own with each passing day, had somehow disappeared from his attention. Bragin looked around the area, then turned around and walked on. This was some kind of suburb in the eastern part of the city. This could be guessed by the terrain, and by the steep opposite bank of the river visible in the distance.
It was good that all these events, troubles and new comrades in arms, if you can even call them that, remained somewhere there. Somewhere not here. It was easy to walk, and for once his head was much clearer than it had been these past few days. Bragin once again raised his eyes to admire the spring trees. The greening branches were illuminated by the bright daytime sun, which seemed to be setting soon. And here comes the darkness. Yes, the sunlit branches were against the dark, almost night sky. Bragin looked at the sky again and realized that he had somehow not carefully assessed the colors before - the sky was not night blue - it was either lilac or some kind of tea color. Something between a solution of potassium permanganate and very strong tea. The sun was high enough and it still shone with its white disk, hanging against the background of a wide band of cirrus clouds.
Having admired the picture, which for some reason he had never seen before, Bragin went further - the city streets began there and there was transport. He could take a bus or a tram and go home.
- Did you want to demonstrate how well you can shoot? - a female voice with an accent was heard from behind.
Bragin turned and saw that behind him was, who would have thought, a woman very similar to Landskricht who had appeared on television.
- And what year is it now? I'm just asking, - she continued her meaningless questions.
- One thousand nine hundred and ninety-two. I'm just answering you like this, although I could... - Bragin was somewhat amused by all this.
Generally, in response to such absurdly stupid questions one should have sent them far away, but Bragin was currently in a rather friendly mood. He was also amused by the stranger's resemblance to Landskricht.
- I am Haldoris Landskricht, - as if anticipating Bragin's train of thought, the stranger declared, - You saw the TV program, right?
- Oh, so that's it? Well, your people really did it! I'm against all this, if you want to know. America...
- It's normal. That is, it's normal that you don't like it.
Landskricht walked alongside, rustling last year's leaves. Bragin once again glanced at the sky, which had not changed its tea-potassium permanganate color. - You know, your guys drugged me, then put me in the attic with a rifle. I don't like it at all, - said Bragin, unexpectedly clearly giving an account of what was said, and what happened, but for some reason not experiencing any particular emotions. It's just that this Landskricht should know about it.
- If anything, it's not quite right to call them "ours" in relation to me. I'm not making excuses, if anything.
- I see. So, it's not for nothing that people talk about you. Well, about your fascist habits.
- And you got that? That's good. Rumors are like ripples on water. In your city, I had to pretend to be... My closer circle considers me... I tried. For this, I carry pills and a glass bottle of cough powder in my bag. You know, there is a cough powder that really does make people's coughs go away. It's going so fast that it won't seem like much, - Landskricht smiled, - Are you perhaps interested in where we are?
- Yes, it's true, I'm interested in that, - answered Bragin, who had just now asked himself a completely natural question.
- We are now in the world of Idealia. I prefer to call it that. Or simply Idealia. You can also call it Halo-Idealia. Do you know what Halo is? All living things create around themselves something like what you call an aura. It's easy for me to find words that would be understandable to you, because in recent years your mass culture has rushed headlong into all this mysticism, invented, however, by charlatans. If you were a Stalinist Komsomol member, it would be more difficult for me. Yes, it would be difficult - even more so to convince such a thick-headed person that Comrade Stalin is an ordinary human and can do stupid things, and Lenin is not a deity who, sitting in his white chair, ennobles with one touch... Thats mock, but well, you get the idea?
- Yes, I understand, - Bragin responded somewhat sullenly, - And now, does that mean I'm a contactee? With extraterrestrial civilizations?
- All your sensations about contactees, about people who attract metals, about glowing flying disks - this is a complete profanation. Someone is realizing their failed creative abilities, someone is simply mentally ill. In general, when someone comes up with blatant nonsense, no matter whether it is bad taste in music or some kind of sect, then the questions should not be addressed to this would-be creator but to the audience. You charged the water with the whole country. So what are you after that? A space power? A space-senile one, that's what.
- Well, take it easy, - Bragin said, nevertheless, inwardly agreeing, - So you are talking about the Idealia World? Aura? Is this the noosphere?
- I told you what to call it. And it is better not to call it anything at all. Do you think that human is the central figure? No, this world of ideas is simply formed around something living. And it is tied to space. When there were microorganisms and mold on Earth, this aura already enveloped the planet. There are forms of life that you simply cannot imagine after a verbal explanation. But together, people can discern something. And not together in the sense of agreeing and doing something, but together unconsciously. Better look at the sky.
Bragin glanced at the sun, which was almost not blinding.
- See the sun, the stars. There, beyond the Earth, there are a lot of living things and we are not talking about ugly little people with slanted eyes and thin limbs. And naked, to boot. We are talking about something completely different.
- Well, they just depicted it that way. Like they, these humanoids, are very smart.
- Ah-ah, - Landskricht answered, clearly mockingly. The poisonous manner was familiar from the TV shows that Bragin had managed to see.
- Better look over there, - Landskricht pointed her hand to the side.
Bragin turned his head and shuddered. Among the stars, a thin glowing ring gaped, its visible diameter comparable to the moon or the sun. Inside the ring, there was just a dark spot the color of the sky. Judging by its appearance, it was a black hole.
- I've never seen anything like this - I've only seen it in pictures... It's a black...
- A pitch-black, black hole! - Landskricht cheerfully picked up, - Now look over there.
In the other direction, where she pointed, there was another one, only smaller, two or three times.
What's going on? - Bragin asked, however, not feeling any particular excitement. Just idle interest.
What wouldn't hurt you to know about them is the following: you usually imagine them as spherical objects that hang somewhere out there by themselves.
- I didn't even think about them and didn't even think that they were such balls, - Bragin answered.
- Well, you are completely... Okay, that's normal. So, look at the sky again - that one and that one - they are just parts of one whole.
- And how is that? - Bragin thought for a moment, but suddenly a picture he had seen more than once flashed into his consciousness. Or rather, a picture.
- This is not by any chance what they draw when space is like a ribbon and it is folded in half. And along the shortest path there is a funnel and at the exit there is also a funnel. That's right, I imagined black holes as such funnels because of this. After all, I saw them on TV, and more than once. They draw it schematically as a grid - this is space, and it is curved, - Bragin blurted out, this time expecting, if not approval, then confirmation. Just like a schoolboy.
- All this is not it. Imagine a tree that has a trunk and branches, and also small branches. So, each such object, each black hole is a visible part of such a tree. Somewhere a trunk, somewhere a branch. There are many trees, it is not one. A tree exists outside of space-time, but only partially. Such a complex and very scientific picture. You don't need it.
- If I don't need it, then I don't need it. And how far are they? I haven't seen them before, and not only I.
- Closer than you think. I am as far away from you as I am. I am a black hole.
- Ah, well, as you say, - Bragin answered indifferently, and, without slowing down, continued moving - some low-rise buildings appeared ahead, which in this area, and he had immediately decided on the area, did not seem to exist.
- It's good that you don't ask stupid questions, - Landskricht, who was walking next to him, continued, not at all embarrassed by Bragin's cold reaction.
- Have you told anyone else about this world? - Bragin changed the subject.
"If you mean your city and the time frame of the events that are taking place, then no, but outside of that, of course yes," Landskricht answered, "and now I'll tell you briefly what you'll need to know when you come to your senses."
- I'm lying in the attic with a rifle now, - asked Bragin, again for some reason not experiencing the slightest worry about this.
Well, the concept of "now" is not entirely applicable. Although yes, consider it so. The Idealia, although also tied to time, but with time here you can get by a little more freely. Do you see that street? Let's go there. There are people here too. And the city is much nicer and more comfortable. Not like yours.
The street consisted of two- and three-story houses that did not at all resemble anything Soviet. Rather, what the builders of the Khrushchev-era buildings and lovers of the "new way of life" so furiously exterminated. There were also intricate pillars, either made of cast iron or hung with curlicues of bent rolled metal. - It wouldn't hurt you to know who put you in the attic and why, - Landskricht continued, - you probably think that it was some crazy military men?
- In general, yes, - answered Bragin, - now I understand that, but then... They pumped me full of drugs. And I think that they are connected to you. They didn't just appear out of nowhere, but against the backdrop of all these events. Some kind of conspiracy.
- Now you guessed correctly that they are not so simple... Did you like what they poured into your ears? Their ideas, plans?
- With those injections, you would like even more.
- Don't blame it all on the injections. They know how to convince even without injections.
- Yes, I won't argue, they know how, although now I seem to...
- Sobered up?
- Well, sort of.
- Okay. Let's start with something bigger, - Landskricht definitely wanted to launch into some long story, - I'll start with what's happening in this, as you call it, civilized world. In the West. So, there are two camps there now - globalists and adherents of the idea of Super-America. The adherents of Super-America are more right-wing in their views, and Republicans, so let's call them "Right-Wing Republican Super-Americans", or RRSA. I talked about their ideas on TV, and it's no secret. Didn't you listen to me?
- Just a little, there was no time, - answered Bragin, - We were in barracks, only on repair trains, and not in barracks. First in one, then in another. There was TV, one person took care of it, but there was no time. In general, I've heard about you. And I've seen you.
- Okay. The second camp is the globalists. But not everyone immediately understands their idea. Of course, judging by the name, this is some kind of unification of the entire planet. In fact, this is not so. If we reduce everything to a funny tale, then seeing a crowd of people: workers, peasants and other common people, RRSA immediately think: I wish they could all be forced to produce something. The profit, of course, goes into their pockets. And they force them. They force, of course, not in the literal sense - they pay wages, protect them from crime. They beat them with police batons, if anything. Everything that your communist propaganda told you about. What it lied about was that people really don't like it. In fact, most people don't see anything bad in it. You know that now, too. Well, RRSA also wants to expand the borders of the United States in the future. Not any time soon. Do you understand about RRSA?
- I see, - Bragin answered without much interest, looking at the houses that, in theory, should not have been here. - And now about what the globalists think. Looking at a crowd of people, they think: "I wish I could throw them a party with drinking and naked dancing, and at the same time go through their barns and pockets." Yes, that's it. People will sober up later, go to work, some in the field, some in the workshop, and during the next drinking bout it will be possible to harvest again. In reality, this drinking bout, figuratively speaking, continues without interruption.
- I didn't quite get it. It might be okay for a fairy tale, but seriously... RRSA at least look more realistic.
- Yes, that's a simplified picture. Globalists are like that... For a start, they can limit themselves to a part of the globe - there are intractable and indigestible countries and societies on Earth, although they can be traded with by including them in the economy. The second feature is more complicated. I think you can clearly imagine the world of RRSA - all these Ford factories, Detroit. Workers, even if not always happy. Some dream of getting rich, some succeed. Gangsters, police. Elections, democracy. Billionaires and super-billionaires are at the top. The threads on the fingers of super-billionaires go to presidents and governors, from there dollars and truncheons fly at citizens. Everyone knows everything: an ordinary worker from Detroit knows who he is in the eyes of a top manager. It is no secret who this top manager is in the eyes of the owner of the company or, perhaps, the governor. And above the owner of the company ... Can you imagine this pyramid? Communist propaganda taught you this, right? The worker also knows how to count money, does not miss an opportunity to vote, even if everything is bought, not in order to influence something, but to stick an awl into a certain ass. He knows how and when to strike. He knows why. The one who wants and is ready to buy everyone will restrain himself in his ambitions so as not to create tension. The common man knows that if he sticks his neck out too much, he can be fired or hit with a truncheon. A balanced mechanism. Of course, it also fails…
- Well, I see. We want it that way too. I'm talking about Russia. Everyone, however, expected that it would soon be like in the stories about life there.
- You know the difference between your city and village people? A villager, if not a drunkard, then he can do everything, but a city person is different, - Landskricht grinned, - like this... If at home, then in a T-shirt, bald, maybe glasses. And he wears a tie. He got books in lines. Almost an intellectual. A wimp, in general. True, he can do his job very well.
- You don't look like a villager either, - Bragin grinned, glancing sideways at Landskricht.
- Firstly, I'm not Russian, and secondly, I'm not a person, - she answered, clearly jokingly feigning pride in her voice, - So, the acceptable appearance of the common people for RRSA is such tenacious villagers. In a social sense, they are smart - they can and should be able to program computers, do a lot of other things. And they can live in the city.
But the acceptable image of the common people for the globalists is such wimps as your caricatured city dwellers. They will do their job and do it perfectly, but in all other respects... They are lost and confused. Like your intellectuals from your movies. Got drunk, came to the wrong city, left.
- Are you serious? - Bragin chuckled, - is that the problem? To be honest, I don't even understand what it is! Do they want everyone to wear glasses, read abstruse books and be bald? Is it worth raising so much noise for this?
- A-a-ah. - Landskricht exhaled angrily, - Why is everything so difficult for you... Okay, fine. Imagine your Soviet Union, but the stores have everything that an import store has.
- Well, I imagined it. They'll snatch it all up, though...
- They won't. They won't snatch it up because they've gotten used to it always being there. I'm now speaking to you as an advocate for your Soviet Union... Great!
- Okay, you're right. In the old days, there was something in the stores... the current era has influenced my perception...
- That's good. Okay, you live in the Soviet Union, where the stores have everything. There's enough money. Enough to go to your Gagra. There's also a TV and a VCR, and you can buy them without waiting in line. A car without waiting in line, too. Will you go to the spring and fall demonstrations with flags?
- Of course! Why not for something like that! I will.
- Will you drag your neighbor along? He's lazy, he should have a drink or go fishing... Both.
- I'll drag him along! He'll have time to go fishing. If it were all you said, I'd drag him along, I won't be lazy.
Hooligans in the entryway... no, they drink vodka in the yard and shit in the bushes. Will you call the police? Oh yeah, the Soviet government also created portable telephones.
- What are you getting at? - Bragin answered, feigning fatigue from the conversation.
- I want you to put yourself in your place... Just look around, why are you showing off?
- Do you even know such words? If you're so interested, then know that if the Soviet government had done all this, then why not call them. There's no point in shitting in the yard. Are you happy?
- Quite. True, you don't really encourage it. That's snitching.
- I've already said everything.
- Well, that's a completely Western line of behavior. I can congratulate you. I'm not joking.
- Thank you.
- You're welcome.
- And if your congress declares that it will be necessary to bomb Afghanistan, yes, bomb it. Well, so that the soldiers don't get exposed?
- Is that something bad?
- Okay, your people have special feelings about Afghanistan now. Let's go to Iraq.
- And why Iraq?
- Well, it was necessary. The party decided so. There are... political interests there.
- Just bomb?
- Yes, just bomb. Then the motorized riflemen will simply walk through the ruins. They'll feed the children porridge. Everything as it should be.
- You say children with porridge... But what does this have to do with me? And people like me?
- Will you protest?
- Who will they send there? What kind of motorized riflemen?
- Don't think about it, it's not like where you send eighteen-year-olds to do such things. First, they teach God knows what at school for ten years, and then... It would be better if they played football all those years. In general, we will send grown men to Iraq who know how and love to fight. To earn money, to take a break from their families.
- What is this, some kind of chatter, why is this?
- Are you going to protest?
- No, I won't, - Bragin answered angrily.
- But seriously?
- And seriously, too, - Bragin answered, suddenly realizing that this really was a much more attractive scenario than what had taken place in the past decades.
- Then another country just as far away. There's a dictator there and all that...
By this time they had approached a row of houses standing on a hill, a little further on turning into either a bridge or an overpass. The area was well-maintained. The path led to a staircase leading up to the hill.
- And the final question, - Landskricht announced, - you won't laugh at the party program, at Soviet traditions, at Ilyich.
- Until recently, we didn't laugh at it. We didn't take it seriously, though. They themselves are to blame. The nomenklatura. If they had provided these, in essence, natural things like stores and especially equipment...
- Well then. You would have been a loyal citizen. A worker. A respectable citizen. Now let's remove the red flags and Lenin with his armored car and put in something else.
- What?
- Human rights, democracy, so that no one would shit in the entryways - we'll call this "decency in everyday life" and this is also a moral value, and also the rights of people... ah, it's already been done.
- So that's the West.
- Right, but we can go a little further. To understand what type of person the globalists need, you need to… Imagine that you are told that history has a happy end...