Posts from Insouciance

A Traveller's Diary

It's the first time I'm telling anyone about myself, so I don't even know where to begin. Probably with my name. Well yes, that would be quite logical. So, if anyone's interested, my name is Maksim Sinsky. I'm twenty-three years old, I'm rather good-looking, I have a fine body, and I'm taller than average — at least that's what my mother always said.
I lived and grew up, as far as I could tell, in a perfectly ordinary town with the pleasant name of Raysky, and I didn't have a care in the world. It's a very nice place, all the people are kind, friendly and honest. Some say the reason is the harsh punishment for committing any bad or wrongful deed, in the form of a brutal murder before everyone's eyes. But personally I believe the thing is that every person's soul and mind are clean of sinful thoughts.
To tell the truth, I was sure that absolutely everyone lived exactly like this, and I didn't even consider other options. My father, though, said I was too naive and that, apparently, was incurable, which always hurt me deeply. But the time came when he got tired of it all and decided to try to open my eyes to certain details, which, by his words, were not welcomed in our town.
It turned out that our entire world consists of small towns, separated by no great distance, yet with an absolutely different way of life. You think that's a trifle? In a sense you'd be right, any fool understands our town isn't the only one — I'd always known that. The problem rather turned out to lie in the very thought that absolutely every little town is a mystical field that makes it unique. They all differ in climate, customs, laws, mentality, and many other details that shape daily life. To put it plainly, by my father's words, the world turned out to be a huge theater, and every town can be called a separate stage, where everyone plays their role and is afraid of disrupting the habitual life. Despite the towns bordering each other, everywhere they try to limit contact and make do exclusively with the transport of goods.
The common features of all places, my father acknowledged, were the common language everyone speaks and the currency. Absolutely everywhere they accepted only coins bearing the image of a smiling jester on the obverse and a handshake on the reverse.
Naturally, this seemed absurd to me. I took it all for a prank and proposed a bet to my father: that I would go look at the other towns, and when I came back I'd share observations that would refute his words. To this he only wished me luck, saying it's better to see the world than to live that kind of life, gave me a symbolic sum of money for a short existence, and added that I should say hello to his brother Philip, who had married and moved to live in Listvenny Town.
I wasn't even stopped by my mother's tears — when she learned of my plan she yelled at my father and literally begged me to abandon the foolish venture. But I didn't yield to persuasion and she had to give in, though in her heart she never accepted my decision. My friends didn't care what I did; it was even hurtful how little they were concerned about my fate. Only Marina, my best childhood friend, whom I counted on marrying once I became worthy of her, supported my venture and said that everything would be fine and that she'd be glad to listen to the story of my trip. She's the only one I'd already had time to miss.
In truth, the argument with my father was just an excellent pretext to set out on the road, because I was ready for anything as long as I didn't have to work. And in our parts idlers are disliked and strictly punished. But leaving for beyond our borders is by no means forbidden; the only requirement is not to disgrace your native lands.
Thanks to everyone in our town being so close-knit, Uncle Igor volunteered to take me to Vaildvest. He often hauled his apples there for local production. I was even curious what delicious thing they made there from apples. Maybe pies? The only bad thing was that we had to leave early in the morning, so apart from my parents no one came to see me off.
I was all groomed, washed, dressed in a black three-piece suit, wearing nice patent-leather shoes. I can't say it was comfortable for me; rather, it was very hot (overall I was puzzled that the weather outside had become so hot in such a short period of time; I'd never felt such a sharp change of climate), but my mother so insistently maintained that all normal people dress exactly this way that I couldn't resist.
And so, toward midday, we arrived in a town unfamiliar to me — or more precisely, at a small wooden house, behind which, not far off, one could see many other wooden buildings somewhat larger. Uncle Igor said this was the formal boundary between the towns.
Near this house I noticed three strange men in similar hats, who were sitting at a table located next to the house and playing with some odd cards made of paper. They were dressed more lightly and loosely than I was. Two of them wore unbuttoned short-sleeved checkered shirts, and the third had decided to limit himself to a simple brown kerchief; all three were in identical brown trousers made of some fabric I didn't understand, and all three wore spurred boots of a similar style. And most importantly, at everyone's belt hung some interesting leather pouches of a strange shape, containing items unknown to me at the time.
When Uncle Igor and I drove up closer to them, these men looked at me with some doubt. Of course I can understand them now — pale, scrawny, and dolled up, I really did look rather unharmonious against the background of these tanned and warlike men. We pulled up to the little house as close as we could, after which Uncle Igor asked me to sit quietly in the cart while he sorted out some business. I didn't have much of a choice, so I had to wait. Fortunately, his conversation with these people didn't last long, and soon we continued on our way, while those men waved to us and sat back down at the table with the cards.
As we drove through the town I kept silent and looked around at the area, which seemed very curious to me. Uncle Igor, on the other hand, preferred to talk and tried to convey to me that I needed to watch what I said, learn how to behave in such company, and hide my fear, otherwise I'd regret it for the rest of my very short little life. By the way, up to that moment I had never in my life felt fear; I always did everything the way it seemed right to me, and so I was generally afraid of nothing at all. And I couldn't quite grasp in time what he meant by "short little life" either. Uncle Igor then went on for a long time trying to advise me about something, but I wasn't interested. I fell to dreaming of how I would conquer this town, and after it, others. I considered myself a kind of discoverer setting out on an easy and fascinating stroll.
I didn't even notice how we pulled up to some establishment over which, in large strange letters, was written "SALOON." This word seemed absolutely absurd and incomprehensible to me, but intuitively I felt that in this place they must cook and serve food. The atmosphere in this establishment was unconventional: some people talked loudly, others sat at a large table playing with the same cards as those men at the border, yet others flirted with beautiful women in gorgeous outfits, some of whom were dancing, others serving food and drinks, while the rest of the patrons slept sitting at the table. Almost everyone around was united by one fact: they drank beverages unfamiliar to me. These people reminded me of wild animals, which at first repulsed me — I wasn't used to seeing such things. Already then I began to half-believe that my father hadn't lied to me, but my mind at that moment hadn't ripened enough to fully grasp all the information I'd received earlier.
While I, as a gawker, admired the luxuriously dancing ladies, whose outfits seemed to me excessively revealing for women, Uncle Igor had a word with the establishment's owner. They exchanged a few words with each other, and a little later my only acquaintance in this place said goodbye to me and headed out of town.
Without taking my eyes off the magnificent beauties, I walked up to the bar and dreamily gazed at the sweet ladies. Not a single resident of Raysky could afford to wear anything so form-fitting, accentuating pleasing curves and baring the legs. All the girls wore beautiful heeled shoes that made their legs even more lovely. Until that day I'd never had a thought in my head that women's footwear could look so interesting. Come to think of it, even Marina, who was the first beauty of our town, was absolutely grey and nondescript against their background, although unlike these wantons she possessed a different, distinct charm that made her more interesting. I could have admired this view for hours, but I was distracted by a girl who sat down next to me.
-And what hard luck brought such a dressed-up and possibly rich young fellow into this dump?
-Are you addressing me? — I found myself somewhat stunned. Never before had representatives of the fair sex addressed me in such a manner. And the girl turned out to be, by appearance, far more pleasant than all those nymphs around. The face of this green-eyed girl could be called angelic, while her figure was finer than the rest. Unlike the other beauties, the girl wore a less provocative dress and ankle boots with a low heel, which helped her look more interesting against the rest. But what caught the eye most were the bright-red long curly locks that looked very exotic. What kind of hair color was that? Could nature really create something like this?
-If you look around, you'll notice that the others are dressed differently, and besides, you're the only one standing at the bar. In any case, I'll deal with your look later; for now, let's drink some beer and you'll tell me about yourself and how you ended up in this hole. It's been a while since I talked with such a handsome fellow as you.
-Beer? What's that? — For some reason my question caused great surprise in the stranger; she even quietly giggled, I found it cute.
-And you're a funny one. First time I've seen such a man. Don't worry, right now I'll help you get acquainted with the nectar of the gods. Joe, bring two glasses of beer! The tastier one, not that lousy parody you pour sometimes.
I was very impressed by such an interesting description for a drink. While the man everyone called the bartender poured beer into glasses, I tried to imagine what this beer actually was, what this divine nectar must consist of, and what flavor it must have. I wasn't in the least put off by the color, the foam, or the bubbles of gas in the glass — I so wanted to find out as quickly as possible what this thing was.
-Well, to our acquaintance! By the way, I'm Alisa, and it's very nice to meet you! — The girl raised her glass and waited for me to do the same, then brought it to mine and clinked it gently.
-And I'm Maksim, and it's very nice to meet you!
We both brought the beer to our lips. What was my reaction when I tasted the so-called beer. With great effort I took a sip, despite the desire to spit out this foulness, while the girl downed a third of her glass in one go. What perverted tastes must one have to call this foul swill the nectar of the gods?
- What nastiness! — At my yelp almost all the establishment's patrons glanced over, but very quickly everyone preferred to return to their business, while Alisa was indignant.
- Joe, did you slip our guest your fake stuff? — The girl sniffed my glass, then took a sip. — It's not nastiness at all — Alisa was slightly offended, — it's good beer, you probably just haven't acquired the taste yet. Drink a bit more and it'll go down better. Your name, by the way, is interesting; I like it — first time I've come across one like that.
Having found the strength, I took a couple more sips, but no miracle happened. Gradually I drained my glass and managed to get used to the unpleasant taste. My head started spinning and very strange sensations appeared; I couldn't tell whether I felt good or bad, and while I was digging through my well-being the girl quietly ordered two more beers and we kept drinking.
-Friends and the closest people call me Max, if that's more convenient. — I said with some effort, which, apparently, pleased my conversationalist.
While we drank, Alisa told me about alcohol, spirits, and about how alcoholism is not a disease — that it was invented by non-drinkers to justify their pathological hatred of marvelous beverages and their inability to control their behavior when drunk. I had never in my life heard such positive things about anything as about this alcohol. With every minute I increasingly stopped feeling myself, and it was hard to tell whether I liked this state or not after all. Over the whole day we talked about many things. It turned out the girl herself had arrived in this godforsaken place about a month ago. She told me everything she knew about this place. For example, the place is run by a certain Bidly, who settled in a large mansion on the outskirts of town — he even fenced himself off so that no one would bother him with stupid questions. It turned out this, as she put it, nasty old creep had set up a tyranny in this town, taking to himself whichever female residents of this town he fancied "for various amusements" — by the way, it took me a while to grasp what Alisa meant. And all the strongest men faithfully serve him and help terrorize the dissenters. She also expressed her anger that this very Bidly allows absolutely anyone into Vaildvest, but only lets merchants leave. Thus I learned that we were both stuck in a foreign town, and I realized that my venture with traveling wasn't so new or original after all. I also learned that this tomboy was practically my age, only half a year older.
The girl called me funny, silly naive, infantile, and a mommy's boy, and something else too, but I didn't remember it. I didn't understand then what she meant by it, because I love my mother very much, and besides I knew little about insults and humiliation; it wasn't customary with us to offend others, so I didn't get upset and kept drinking and chatting with this charming creature — though had I assessed the situation differently I'd have been better off not getting involved with this lunatic at all. Gradually I lost control of myself completely.
Aliska — I myself didn't notice how I started calling her that — decided it was time to go for a walk and get some air. First of all she took me to some shop where she picked out clothes for me. It turned out she has very good taste, and within a few minutes I went from a sweet gentleman to, as she put it, a little cowboy. She even picked a good hat for me. On one hand, now I fit the atmosphere well; on the other, elements of light-blue color for some reason made me stand out against the others. She said the reason was my innocent pure gaze, but I think her contribution played a part, and on the better side. In any case I was pleased, although in total I spent the greater half of my own money. As for the suit, at first I nearly threw it out, but Alisa suggested it was good and might still come in handy.
We didn't wander the town for long, but in that time I managed to sober up slightly and feel just how comfortable I was. I don't know whether it was the new style of clothes, or the alcohol, or maybe both factors that made me feel more confident among the locals.
In the evening we went drinking in a bar where I was offered to try tasty moonshine from Uncle Igor's apples, but Alisa forbade conducting such nuclear experiments. She also recommended I eat something so I wouldn't feel even worse, so I ordered a huge portion of meat with something, like beans. I don't even remember what kind of meat it was, but I remembered how much I liked it. Toward night, when there were many more patrons, she sat me down at a table with some men who were playing with strange cards. Aliska told me a lot about the cards and how to play them. She even managed, through cheating, to earn us money for beer — by the way, in addition to other people's coins she also appropriated some of mine, though in exchange she treated me to food and drink. I didn't even notice when she got up on the bar and sang something loudly, dancing, while the other men hugged me and said that with this one it's never boring. Thanks to her I was warmly welcomed and treated like family. This led me to think that my father was wrong about something and that our towns aren't so different after all. In short, we drank and ate until night, and I have no idea when it all ended.
I woke toward the middle of the day and around then learned what a hangover was, which I'd also heard about from Aliska's words. It was the most disgusting state in my life. I won't describe in detail what I experienced, but believe me, I'll never forget this nightmare. My new acquaintance, on the other hand, felt amazing. She bustled about my bed, gave me some pills, unsuccessfully tried to feed me meat soup, stroked my head, and said I'd learn to drink and wouldn't feel so bad in the future. I lay in bed for a very long time before I realized I was in Aliska's house and had slept in her bed. Since I saw nothing in the room except a wooden table with stools and a small cupboard by the bed, all sorts of bad thoughts started creeping into my head. I got scared that, being out of control, I had taken advantage of the same state of the poor beauty and dishonored her. What a horror! I didn't even remember when it could have happened!
And yet my parents always taught me never to treat ladies badly. In Raysky, you court a girl you like for a long time, then make a proposal, and only then go further. I felt terribly ashamed, and I understood there'd be no road home for me if I didn't marry the poor girl. Although, to be honest, I had no desire to tie my life to some mostly-unfamiliar drunkard of a girl.
When Alisa once again brought me a plate of soup with the comment that it would do me good and I'd feel better — that I just needed to make a bit of effort to eat — I found the strength to get on my knees and propose to her, apologizing for the lack of a ring.
I never could have thought she'd start laughing, barely holding the plate in her hands. I was hurt and ashamed; I didn't understand what exactly made this girl laugh. Maybe in her parts it isn't customary to make a proposal on one's knees, or maybe she found it funny that I was in such a ridiculous pose and in nothing but my underpants. Though somewhere in my soul I felt relieved — we knew each other far too little for a quick wedding.
-What a sweetheart you are. — Aliska barely squeezed out, trying by force of will to hide her laughter. It didn't come easily to her. — But if you're making this gesture only out of a sense of guilt, relax — nothing happened between us. You're very interesting and funny, but I would never take advantage of you against your will and in such a state. Besides, I don't approve of cheating, and back in your home parts you have some fiancée waiting, don't you? Although there is something attractive about you. Damn, did you really get that drunk and don't remember what we talked about?
Gradually, additional lost events began surfacing in my head, because of which my habitual picture of the world collapsed. The memory that Alisa travels through various towns in search of the ideal lover capable of satisfying all her obscene needs hit me over the head like a brick. Maybe that would be a trifle, but overall she led a dissolute lifestyle and even spent some time as a representative of the oldest profession. I won't mention here what that specialty is, because it's horrible and immoral and I condemn that kind of activity! If her words are to be believed, thanks to such work she learned a lot — though it's hard for me to imagine exactly what. Then she got tired of it and came to the understanding that taking money for such an occupation is immoral and shameful, and besides she didn't want to spend time with just any man at all, but only with special ones. In the end she visited several towns and hadn't found anyone yet, when she heard about the mighty mayor of Vaildvest she rejoiced that she'd found her happiness — only no one mentioned that he was a short man over sixty. Come to think of it, she seems to have said all this in a cruder and more obscene form, but I'll spare the extra details.
To be honest, after all this I lost the desire to have anything to do with Alisa. She ruined all my preconceived notions of how a representative of the fairer sex should be. Proper girls behave like real ladies. They should be modest, quiet, gentle, fragile, and chaste. But she drank alcohol, and a lot of it, talked loudly — though that could be forgiven — behaved rudely, and turned out to be an immoral creature to boot. Even men don't behave as wrongly as this crazy one.
-Alisa, thank you for the strangest day of my life, but let me get dressed and leave your house.
-Oh, found someone to be shy with! What haven't I seen there? Well, although there is something I haven't seen after all. Fine, I'll step out, you change, and we'll go get a hangover cure, since I could use one too. While we're at it we'll discuss what to do to leave Vaildvest and set off traveling. We have a choice of Flig — I know nothing about it at all; Durman, which is where I came from, in case you forgot, and I might add that the town is boring and doesn't live up to its name at all, even quite the contrary; and your Raysky, but you've been there, and from your stories I don't want to. How glad I am that I can finally get the hell out of this hole! — she rattled all this off so fast that I couldn't get a word in.
-You've probably misunderstood me, but I don't want to have anything to do with you. Your behavior is too immoral and unbecoming for a girl. I don't want to offend you, but interacting with you is unpleasant for me, so let me get dressed and leave your house.
-Well then go to hell, messing around with you here. — Alisa behaved quite restrained for herself; I'd expected her to at least dump a plate of her soup on me. The girl carefully set the dish on the table, reminding me that if I wanted to recover I should eat. After which she disappeared behind a side door, which was most likely the kitchen.
I felt ashamed, because I had never in my life offended people, much less women. I dressed in the outfit that Aliska had so carefully picked for me, sat at the table, and forced myself to eat. Despite the soup being surprisingly wonderful, my appetite was very poor — from the hangover and from how I'd treated my would-be friend. Finishing my meal, I checked all my things, noticed that I had very little money left, left my acquaintance's house, and headed for that very "SALOON" to ask the owner what he'd advise me to do to leave this town.
There weren't many people on the street, but a couple of times I felt sidelong glances on me, which, however, didn't bother me at that moment. When I entered that very establishment, I noticed there was no one inside except the bartender. This didn't trouble me at all — yesterday might have been some holiday or day off, and today everyone had gone to work, because that's how it should be in a normal society. I went up to the innkeeper and asked how to get out of this interesting town, but in response I got a bottle to the back of the head. To my fortune it didn't break and I didn't lose consciousness; for a long time I tried to remember whether I'd ever been hit before, and I realized that this blow was the first in my life. Which, mind you, is hurtful and unpleasant, especially when the head already hurts without that. While I was counting stars and trying to grasp what was happening, some tall fellow with huge hands grabbed me, turned me face toward himself, and started talking:
-Guess the riddle: who's going to get beaten today?
-Hello, good sirs, what do I owe the honor? — that was the only thing that came into my head from such a shock. After all, you don't get rude or try to resist if I'd never had occasion to fight, and aggravating the situation would be stupid.
-You came to our town, we received you with warmth and love, and you spent the night in the house of a woman who belongs to our Bidly?
What a business! Somehow this parasite had neglected to mention that she was the beloved of the head of this town. You'd think, looking from the outside, such an innocent girl with the kindest and purest face, yet in her soul lives a cunning succubus-seductress who denies moral norms. They probably had some lover's quarrel or similar nonsense, and she, taking offense, decided to go amuse herself on the side, while also tickling the nerves of her paramour. If this fellow had been alone, I'd surely have told the truth about this snake, exactly as she is, but I was frightened by the fact that behind his back there were no fewer of the same strongmen, and by the look of them they weren't going to stand on ceremony with me.
-Gentlemen, listen, don't jump to hasty conclusions. Yes, yesterday I really did spend almost the whole evening in the company of a certain citizen Alisa, who showed me the town and taught me to consume alcoholic substances. I won't lie, I really did spend the night at the aforementioned lady's house, but if you ask her she'll confirm that there was absolutely nothing between us. And I wasn't in any state to, comrades... — By the expressions on their faces, the brutes weren't very satisfied with my answer. First, as it seemed to me, they didn't quite understand what I'd been jabbering to them; second, they were still set on beating me up, so I resigned myself to the fact that right now I'd get beaten, or maybe even killed. Some trip.
-Keep talking here. — The fellow holding me hit me hard with his fist in the stomach, then pulled a revolver out of its holster — what that is I also learned from Alisa; she may be quite a parasite, but at least she helped broaden my horizons — and threatened to shoot me if he didn't like something I did. — I'll watch how you tell these fairy tales to our Bidly. Right now we'll go to him.
I didn't have much of a choice; there was nowhere to run and it would be stupid — they'd either kill me or cripple me. And this way at least I'll get acquainted with the local authorities. Who knows, maybe the culprit of all this celebration will burn with shame and talk her beloved into letting me go in peace. Ah, and just an hour ago she'd been babbling about where we'd go together. Sure, I understood she was that kind of wretch, but not to this extent!
The whole way to Bidly's house they either kicked me, shoved me, or gave me cuffs on the ear, and after I fell they roughly grabbed my legs and dragged me along the sand. It was very unpleasant and humiliating, but I didn't dare resist and preferred to resign myself. The mansion, by the way, turned out to be very large; you could feel that someone rich lived here. When they shoved me into the house I was received by a very sweet lady of advanced age — most likely a servant.
-Young man, please take a seat in the parlor and wait; Mr. Bidly will see you very soon.
The wait was very painful for me; I spent a long time imagining what would happen next. I didn't try to escape, because around the house were plenty of the master's cronies rubbing their hands at the chance to beat me to death. They didn't make me wait long, and literally within a minute into the room came a slight man with long gray mustaches and a head almost gleaming from baldness. He was dressed in a black shirt, black trousers, and black boots; his image was completed when that sweet servant handed him his hat, which added a few centimeters to his height. He confirmed practically all my stereotypes of villains with his look, though I thought he'd have a nasty voice; on the contrary, it turned out to be rather pleasant.
-Young man, you came to us from Raysky, where the most decent people in all the world live, only yesterday, and you've already attracted so much attention to your person. I am somewhat amazed by this; you should be ashamed. To tell the truth, I would have been indifferent to your presence in our glorious Vaildvest, had you not laid claim to something that by right belongs to me — at this phrase the people around started smiling and giggling like crazy, but I held myself together bravely and silently looked Mr. Bidly in the eyes. — In any case, I'm not going to stoop to the level of pitiful bandits and just kill you or beat you in front of everyone. That's not my way. I like it when everything is interesting and unconventional. Therefore I'll give you exactly two hours, which you will spend alone in this room. During that time I guarantee your full safety, on the condition that you're not planning to try to escape. While you sit there I'll come up with some interesting way to test whether you're worth anything or not. And if you disappoint me, I'll arrange for you a very interesting death with which I'll entertain the whole town. I hope these two hours will be the most interesting in your life. If you wish, you may drink some brandy for courage, or anything else you might want more; I don't mind.
In general, I have almost nothing more to write here. I can tell you about the room in which I whiled away my time. The room was small, but sufficiently spacious. The walls were decorated with light-green wallpaper, white furniture stood everywhere, and curtains in the color of the wallpaper with white ruffles covered the windows. Most of the time I sat at the writing desk, but if you look around, you can notice a beautiful sideboard where on the upper shelf stood beautiful bottles of some beverages, and on the lower stood shot glasses and wine glasses. I would, of course, have preferred it not to be alcohol. I also noticed a nice and possibly soft sofa with two cushions. I also saw two large wardrobes, which most likely hid clothes. Or maybe something else; I didn't check. And right by the door there's a small mirror. To tell the truth, it would probably have been better to open one of the bottles hidden in the sideboard — especially since, if I'm not mistaken, the master himself offered me a drink — lie down on the sofa, and calmly wait for what would happen next. But upbringing takes its toll; I couldn't afford such luxury.
It remains only to add that from time to time that sweet old woman looked in on me and offered tea with cookies. A couple of times I refused her, but she always left so upset that in the end I gave in and tasted the food. By the way, that was perhaps the best tea in my life, and the cookies were very pleasant to the taste. It's heartening that at least one kind and bright person lives here, even in a place like this. Actually, I started this diary more out of a desire to pass the time somehow; I found a notebook in my bag, saw a pen, and decided to start writing. I hope this sadist doesn't send my scribbles to my parents, otherwise they'll be very ashamed of their prodigal little drunkard son, especially Mama. I think she simply wouldn't survive such a tragedy.
I didn't really notice how two hours passed, but when I heard the door open behind me I saw Bidly, with Alisa walking meekly behind him. What a parasite — she cooked up this whole mess, and now she walks in with such a sad expression on her face. Ashamed, I suppose! Or maybe she's talked her lover into pardoning me? That would be great.
-I'd like us not to be disturbed. — Bidly said this to his servant, who nodded to him and silently closed the door. — How glad I am that everyone is assembled! I'd begun to think you'd never show up here, my beauty. Would you like some tea with something tasty? Or maybe coffee? I can pour something stronger, if you wish.
-Very funny! I've always dreamed of drinking and having a swell time with an old creep.
-Now, don't be rude, why like that? It's unpleasant, after all.
-And you're saying this to me? For almost a whole month you've been trying to drag me into your bed, you call me your woman, your freaks constantly chase after me and demand I present myself to you immediately. And now, you've grabbed some poor fellow, which you didn't hesitate to broadcast to the whole town, just so I'd find out. And so, by force of coercion, you've finally gotten your way — I'm here, and I finally agree to become your mistress, only let my friend go and I'll do anything for you! — To say I was surprised is to say nothing. All this time in my head she'd appeared as a vile creature of easy virtue who'd been teasing me, Bidly, and everyone around. And here she says they tried to drag her here by coercion, and she'd refused. And it turned out she was here on my account. At that I felt very ashamed before her. Though that doesn't cancel out her being rude and unpleasant.
-Oh, reputation makes the ruler. But it also gifts such rumors... — Bidly became very sad, sighing desperately. — And personally I never once called you mine. I only said, just once, that a very interesting and pleasant person had arrived in our town. The rest is rumors, gossip, and inventions. So you tell me better: if I'm such a cunning villain, why did you peacefully rent a little house, and no one ever tried to drag you out of it?
-Well...
Alisa put on a thoughtful face. She searched for a long time for what to answer, but apparently didn't find it. I, of course, had variants in my head — that a crazy one like her could well have beaten up all the men to make them back off — but that's more of a fiction; no woman can handle a crowd of men, even if she's armed to the teeth and a master of martial arts.
-Exactly! No one ever touched you, and no one needed you. Maybe from time to time they pestered you and demanded you present yourself to me. But that's the initiative of my comrades; it's them who needed it, not me — take it up with them. By the way, they brought in your fellow themselves, too. If you look closely, he didn't suffer much, and at my place they even fed him and let him rest.
-But I'm not her fellow! I don't even love her! All gossip, lies, and invention! Where are the facts, where's the proof? I demand a fair and just trial! And a human-rights advocate, and the execution of a last will. — Honestly, I'd stopped controlling myself and was ready to scream. All this time I'd felt tense, mentally preparing for death, and now it turned out I'd been relaxing. No, I'm not playing like that.
-Eh, and yet this very person, not long ago, was proposing to me on his knees. — Aliska said this in such a reproachful tone that the situation became completely awkward. — In any case, I'm for getting down to business. I came here to demand Maks's release and am ready to sacrifice myself for him.
-Why the hell would I need such a sacrifice? As if I couldn't find better entertainment. And I know much more about you, Alisa, than you think. I know about your former profession, I know about your arrest, I know what you went to prison for, and your interesting peculiarity is also generally known to me. I have connections that help dig up information about the town's visitors. Were I twenty-thirty years younger, I might have tested how true the rumors are. But as it is I'm an old and sick man; I need love, care, and affection, not death from a beauty's passion. Besides, I don't like forcing anyone against their will; there's no pleasure in that.
If Aliska's profession could no longer surprise me — especially since she'd already claimed to have left the trade — the fact of her arrest struck me. I'd been conversing with a criminal whom in my native parts would long ago have been executed for all the vices she'd committed. What will people think of me when they find out who I've been spending time with here? With a biography like that they'd never want to see me at home again, especially considering I was asked not to disgrace my parts, and besides, Marina wouldn't want to see such a scoundrel anyway. Alas, it's too late now, there's nowhere to go, and I'll probably have to look for a new home. That is, of course, if I get out of here alive.
-In fact, we now have a very strange and unpleasant situation. On one hand, I'd very much like to let you go, so the two of you can travel and amuse yourselves — you really haven't done anything bad, after all. On the other, if I just let you go like that, I won't be understood. I am, after all, a cruel and wicked tyrant who spares no one. Although in reality I have one harmless plan that will help us all come out of the water dry, though it may not please someone.
Aliska and I listened very attentively to Bidly's idea, from which I was in shocked bewilderment. He proposed taking advantage of her reputation as a restless lover. More precisely, to spread a rumor as if the two of us had spent the whole night competing in a passionate battle for her heart, and in the end the gallant Bidly had decided to yield, because he had never seen such strong and confident men, after which he would let us leave, because we were a worthy couple, and he now respected me. Naively, at first I didn't grasp the whole gist of the plan, but when the diligent Alisa described in detail exactly what was meant, I felt ill. These two wanted my name to be stained by terrible rumors about what an awful person I was! But if such rumors reached my native Raysky, I'd never wash this shame off myself. On the other hand, I already had the reputation of a drunkard who spent the night at a mostly-unfamiliar woman's place.
There was no long persuasion, because I was made to understand that if I refused this option I'd experience physical pain, and a harsh punishment was promised specifically by Aliska. But I was promised that I'd live and be able to continue traveling. At least some positive prospects. And from the rumors, maybe I'll somehow be able to disavow myself. And all that was required of me was to spend a night in a luxurious mansion where they feed you tasty food.
We sat for a long time in Bidly's study, drank magnificent tea, and talked about various interesting and even pleasant things. First he told us about how earlier this town had been ruled by terrible chaos, and everyone around had shown serious cruelty and aggression toward each other. And in general, almost every local absorbs inner fury with their mother's milk. Then he told us about himself — about how hard it had been for him since childhood to look at the horrors going on, and about how, through cunning, deceit, and a minimum of cruelty, he had gained power and reached the status of a cruel tyrant for whom the residents of Vaildvest were ready to do anything. Some of the people had been recruited by him and played along in his cheery spectacle, while the rest, instead of showing even greater aggression, began to obey his orders unquestioningly. From time to time there were mishaps and they allowed themselves a little more than permitted, but they never questioned Bidly's authority. He also repented that sometimes he himself sinned for the sake of a graphic demonstration, to prove that he was still worth something, because he believed it was better to sacrifice a little than to lose everything.
Somewhere deep in my soul it was hard for me to accept the fact that I was surrounded by horrible criminals. It all looked very wild. Of course I was very glad that Bidly had been able to make his town a little better, and by himself he didn't look like a bad person, and even his method seemed to me among the better ones. Although I hadn't forgotten the fact that in every town the residents possess a unique mindset. I would, of course, have liked such peace and quiet as in my home, but I remembered that I'd set out to feel the uniqueness of one place or another. So attempts to change anything in other people would be a pointless waste of time.
Bidly also added that he would see Alisa and me to the borders of whichever town we were going to head to. Despite the fact that neither of us at that moment wished to set out together, we had no choice, because the legend had to be sealed by our leaving as a couple. Alisa immediately started talking about how she wouldn't go to Durman or to my "boring" Raysky. Although I didn't want to go home, especially with my renewed reputation, it was unpleasant to hear such things. And the choice between Flig and Durman was roughly the same for me, since I knew nothing about either town, so I didn't argue, but asked at least to be told what kind of town it was with such an interesting name.
Aliska didn't have to be persuaded, and she herself willingly told about how she'd gone to a town with such a speaking name, to find out thanks to what it had been so nicknamed. I don't quite understand what she'd expected from this town, but she got the most horrible impressions of her life from this place. It turned out that all of Durman was overrun with religious fanatics worshiping some God-Creator, who walk around in some foggy state, are incapable of and unwilling to communicate with strangers, although among themselves they all get along fine, actively discuss something, play something, sometimes quarrel and throw slop at each other — in short, they have their own very jolly atmosphere. And ruling over all of them is a certain great, luminous, radiant Emperor, whose name she didn't remember, but apparently he is a very important figure for Durman.
She even managed to learn that the cause of it all was some strange tea that they all drink there. By all manner of tricks, ruses, and even persuasion, Alisa wanted to get hold of and try that drink, but she was never allowed. To put it more precisely, she was offered the option to pray to their great God-Creator, renounce the joys of this world, and live out her whole life with them, pray in their temple, and drink tea with them — but she preferred to refuse. Although Alisa honestly admitted that if she doesn't find anything better for her life, she'll most likely go back there and accept their faith, if that tea is really worth it. The strangest thing is that she never understood which such Creator these guys pray to, since she simply wasn't allowed into the temple, and they only said of him that he is great and omnipotent. Even to me, by the sound of her story, these people seemed strange, and the desire to go there very strongly dropped off. Unless it'd be possible to drop in on the way back.
About Flig we tried to find out from Bidly, but he only shrugged and said that he only knows that in those parts, for some reason, all the women are very fat, and their ruler is so fat that for many years she hasn't been able to leave her own house, which on the whole doesn't stop her from ruling the town.
We also chatted about various things; Bidly even told about his predilections, which I had no desire to know, much less imagine. Even Alisa took it all with bewilderment and said that you can't do that and it's horrible. Like she's one to judge?
Before we went to bed, the caring Bidly said that he was open to both of us and ready to show himself in certain skills in all their glory, if only we wished — but I didn't understand what he meant by that, and Alisa asked him not to frighten me, because I wasn't ready to comprehend and accept such things. Interesting — what exactly did they mean? Although maybe it's really better for me not to know; what if it's something bad.
The same sweet old woman who had met me saw us to our bedrooms. Apparently she was the head of the serving staff; the others I saw practically ignored their guests. I rejoiced that finally I'd lie down to sleep, and tomorrow my epic with Vaildvest would end and nothing bad would happen to me anymore. But Alisa looked downcast and kept wanting to say something but not daring. And when we reached the little rooms and the servant withdrew, the girl detained me and began to speak:
-Listen, I'm truly sorry that the upcoming rumors upset you. And I'm sorry that you'll have to put up with my company on the way to Flig. But I promise that once we get there we'll go our separate ways and live and travel as we did before we met. I don't want to be a burden to you, and for you, apparently, it's hard to accept a person with quirks like mine. Anyway, good night to you; I hope you can put up with me for a little while longer.
I listened to all of it and silently closed the door without giving her any answer. It came out rather awkwardly — I wasn't taught to behave like that. But that's not so important, because what worried me was whether I'd now be able to travel alone. Yes, this strange girl is nasty and irritating. On the other hand, apart from getting me drunk, she'd done nothing bad to me. She'd dressed me, introduced me to the culture, broadened my horizons, put me to bed, fed me, nursed me, committed an act of self-sacrifice to try to help me. And yesterday she often friendly-hugged me by the shoulder, introduced me to everyone, was rude here and there, and taught me about life elsewhere. It doesn't come out well; I'm not behaving like a man toward her.
I managed to fall asleep very late, due to long reflections on what would happen to me next, whether I'd cope alone, and whether it wasn't better to travel with a companion, even one like this. On one hand, she's frightening and unpleasant; on the other, with her it might sometimes be fun, and she most likely won't abandon me in trouble. Besides, I hadn't taken into account which town she's from and what had happened to her there. If she told me about it and I was too drunk to remember, then I should be ashamed.
In the morning Bidly brought the two of us out to the center of town, delivered a solemn speech about what a fine fellow I was and what a fine fiancé I'd be for Alisa. Then he went on about how the same little devil lives in me as in him, and how I was fit to be his successor if I ever wished. In short, he spouted all kinds of nonsense, but everyone listened attentively and looked as if they'd gotten to know me from a new side. The people swallowed these inventions like bait, and from the way some whispered, apparently gossip was already being made up. And while everyone took in the words of their mayor, I carefully drew Alisa aside.
-Listen, I've been thinking — I'd, well, like, need to apologize to you. After all, you treated me with love and care, and I was rude and behaved unworthily. In short, I'll be glad if you forgive me. If not, I'll understand; I was wrong.
-You'd still need to work on yourself a bit, build up your self-confidence, get a little rougher, and there'd be no price on you. You need to be meaner, harsher. Although what's to be expected of you — over there you all probably make friends and sing songs. Peace and quiet! You're lucky to have such a kind place; maybe you should have stayed there? Nothing would have threatened you there, and you'd have been happy. And as for getting acquainted with one like me, let alone even mentioning it! They probably wouldn't let me within a cannon shot of your place! — She babbled all this quickly; thanks at least that it was quieter than usual.
-Yes, our town is wonderful; there's no place for vice there. But I do admit that life there was grey, boring, and monotonous. Of course I miss some people, but even with my friends I never had any fun, much less like the day before yesterday. In short, you're probably my friend now, too.
-What do you mean, your "probably"? As if before this we were just two barely acquainted people? If that had been the case, I probably wouldn't have risked myself to save you.
-I get that now. And since we're friends, will you keep me company on my journey?
-I was already thinking you wouldn't speak up and was planning to bring it up myself. But since you insist, then fine, so be it — of course I'll go with you. I can't very well leave you alone — they might offend you, and then I'd have to live with that feeling.
How rude she is; instead of being glad that she won't be bored traveling now, she even gloats. She herself wanted to go together. I hope we won't drink with her anymore and I won't have to regret anything.
We listened to the end of Bidly's fiery speech, said goodbye to the town's residents, and got on the horses on which we were to ride to Flig. It's nice that back in Raysky I'd had time to learn horseback riding, otherwise the trip would have been very agonizing and painful for me. Alisa also sat on her horse quite confidently; she must have learned to ride at some point too — that's a relief, she won't be crying the whole way about the pain.
Overall, I'm pleased that I decided to travel the world. I lived so long under a dome, and only recently realized I needed to change everything. Besides, I really liked the idea of the diary. I decided that, since life has given me this opportunity, I'll write in it about every little town I visit. This will help me look at the whole world in more detail and discover how they differ from one another. And if I'm lucky, I'll send all this goodness to print and publish a book. I, after all, needed to find work, and this one isn't so bad. I'll just have to cut some moments, because otherwise my new friend Bidly will probably never forgive me if I reveal his secret this way.

Persimmon Strikes Back (Prologue)

- Well, we're used to sacrificing infants.
- And we prefer beautiful virgins. Then we eat the bodies raw.
- What nonsense. We sacrifice beautiful twenty-minutes-ago-virgins.
- Gross, how do you even eat them then?
- Oh, we don't eat them; we eat the infants…
Obener paused to think. Truth be told, he had always considered the sacrifice of beautiful virgins a serious oversight in his cult's rituals, and Geriot had dared to bring up a sore subject… No way! Obener Rilaz' same cult was better than Geriot Siton's! The non-canonical ankallat stared with all eight bead-like eyes into the identical bead-like eyes of his companion and clipped out his answer:
- Our initiation ritual is spending the night inside a corpse.
Geriot was at a loss, not knowing how to respond, only boring a hateful gaze into the triumphant Obener. Oh, how he wished he could spend the night in Obener's corpse right now! But according to the rules, this was strictly forbidden. The Cult of Fallen Knights condemned the use of dead bodies for any purpose other than consumption. In fact, this was nearly the primary bone of contention between them and the Dark Scavengers; it was this very dispute that split one great cult into two, after which followers of both currents were forced underground, hunted by the church of Dliika. To this day, few understood how these two same-eating monsters without moral principles had managed to slip under the noses of the Kalandi authorities and settle comfortably among the crew of the Deep-WE11.
Meetii didn't understand it either; he wanted to plug his ears and run away every time he encountered these cruel creatures. His fragile, peace-loving nature could not bear things like eating infants or spending the night in virgins' corpses. Even now, after hearing this dialogue, the paaepai squeezed all three of his eyes shut, plugged his auditory passages, and began to mutter under his breath:
- Don't panic, please, just don't panic, don't panic…
Having somewhat restored his mental equilibrium, Meetii remembered that he had come to tell the captain about the ship approaching its destination and continued on his way, shuddering at the thought of what repulsive ideas could occur to creatures as usually calm and peace-loving as ankallats.
A collision distracted the paaepai from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw a tall, tanned niyyakin.
- Watch where you're crawling, you need to be more careful, - the other tossed out carelessly.
- Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to, - Meetii said bashfully.
- No big deal – his companion waved him off and walked on.
The tanned niyyakin was named Sivefa Ellano, and he was heading toward an old friend. Many of his kinsmen were surprised when they learned that Sivefa had been friends with a fantraika for several years; indeed, at one time, he himself would never have believed it. However, getting to know Kosshia had little effect on his attitude toward women (and in some ways even strengthened his opinion). Either way, the niyyakin reached his destination – the ship's artist's studio.
- Hi, Koshi. Creating?
- Indeed, - the fantraika snorted, looking away from her same-canvas, - the captain asked.
Sivefa looked at the life-size portrait of the Deep-WE11 captain and shook his head.
- Could you really not refuse?
- I would have refused Aradi; he's a boor and a rude man. But Norid intervened here, and he is much better mannered and knows how to ask far more convincingly. And anyway, I'm almost finished.
- Not bad, - the niyyakin nodded approvingly, looking at the canvas.
- Koshi! Could you help process a couple of photos? – Sazemayr's white head poked through the studio door.
- Please wait, - Kosshia Yestar responded in the most polite voice she was capable of, - I'll just finish the cap's portrait and then look at the photos.
Grahaydar seemed satisfied with this answer; at least the door closed again. Sivefa decided it wasn't worth distracting his friend and left to practice four-armed fencing - new styles and techniques of this martial art were his passion.
- Will she be long? – asked Sazemayr, waiting by the door.
- No, a couple of strokes and that's it, - the niyyakin reassured her.
Sazemayr decided to stand by the door for a bit longer – she had no other urgent business. Actually, the photos weren't very urgent either, but the grahaydar wanted to make her report on her latest solo mission look prettier. She loved spending long periods in reconnaissance, communicating with wild tribes; she even wore a colorful cloak given to her once by one of the friendly chiefs. A funny "quirk" of this grahaydar was that, unlike many of her kinsmen, she referred to herself in the feminine gender and had once admitted that she specifically retrained herself from the customary masculine. Not that it was fundamentally important for a representative of a same-sex race which gender to use when speaking about oneself…
- Hi, is Sivefa there? – Alexin Guillier pointed to the studio door.
- He was, but he left, probably over there, I think - the grahaydar waved toward the captain's bridge.
- Yeah, thanks, - the young niyyakin nodded while already running.
He was somewhat annoyed – Sivefa had promised to show him a couple of fencing moves. Instead, he first went to his girlfriend and now, apparently, needed to settle some matters with the captain for some reason. Alexin was already thinking about what to say to his "mentor," but suddenly noticed a very specific crew member in one of the corridors.
- Utro? Morning, could I ask you something?
Utro Black Heart turned around and stared at the niyyakin with huge light eyes.
- I've been thinking… You're the one who taught Sivefa some things… Maybe you could teach me too?
Utro's head plate flickered.
- No. I'm retired. It is difficult for me to teach you.
- Oh, well… Maybe…
- No. Let Sivefa teach if he wants, – the green one turned away and extinguished the plate, signaling that the conversation was over.
A disappointed Alexin walked on, while Utro, shaking his head, disappeared into the corridor. Once, he had been one of the Earth Republic's best saboteurs, but he had long since retired and agreed to participate in the venture after persistent requests from Aradi Norid, his old friend and the ship's captain. And now Utro was plagued by all sorts of youngsters and simply irritating personalities, completely preventing him from spending the flight in solitude. The green one had regretted getting involved ten times over. On the other hand, there was a good side – a change of scenery, new faces… Here, one such face just came out of a side corridor and stopped, looking at the green one.
- What do you want? – Utro flickered.
- Just passing by, - Dhkshg chattered in response.
- Well then, keep passing, - the former saboteur sharply changed trajectory and went to ponder the peculiarities of animal customs.
Dhkshg continued on, clicking some melody under his breath. Unlike most of his kinsmen, this jhakchte felt quite comfortable in his own small company of six individuals and did not seek the company of other intelligent races. Most of the time he wandered aimlessly around the ship, sometimes appearing in the most unexpected places and making the most unexpected remarks. Even now, the jhakchte headed to the lounge, only to say a couple of minutes later, while watching the game:
- Great cards, Revang.
Revang Peullauo, the captain's first officer, cast an incinerating look at Dhkshg that could have killed. In case the look wasn't enough, the young man had already calculated no fewer than a dozen ways he could smear the arrogant insectoid across the wall for ruining the whole game. The insectoid thought it best to retreat before the Korean decided to test a couple of those ways in practice.
- Maybe we should redeal? – Ple-Sen from the Abyss guild noted nervously, fiddling with his cards in long hands. - This round wasn't coming together anyway…
- The round was going great, - Revang snorted. He was clearly annoyed by the failure, but there was no choice – only a replay.
The man began to shuffle the cards with a sigh, glancing gloomily at Ple-Sen. Housh-au clearly looked pleased, which wasn't surprising – before the redeal, his position had been pitiful. The third player, ship's technomage Wis Tari, took the annoying interruption quite indifferently. Iotas were generally characterized by rare indifference. Revang had warned his friend that prolonged meditations lead to nothing good…
…but this round wasn't destined to end either; however, now Ple-Sen was among the dissatisfied. This time the game was interrupted by a cheerful yutivatsin in acid-orange attire.
- Revangy, the captain is calling you! Hurry up!
- Nai, can't he wait?..
Nai-Re shook her head negatively – it seemed the girl's thin neck was about to snap. Revang rolled his eyes and headed to the bridge, muttering something about a capricious captain; Ple-Sen and Wis resumed the game, adjusting the rules for two, while Nai-Re buried herself in her tablet. In the half-minute since she last checked messages, the yutivatsin guy hadn't written her anything. This is simply unacceptable! Where on earth is he? The girl sighed and flopped into a chair – the run from the bridge to the lounge had taken a lot of energy even from Nai-Re, who was strong and physically developed by her race's standards.
- Energy at low level? – Master1910199025, standing next to the chair, looked at her sympathetically.
- Ah, yes, doesn't matter, - Nai-Re waved him off.
- I can find some good relaxing music in the library, - suggested the knowing one.
- Oh, go ahead. Just nothing boring.
Master paused for a couple of seconds – the giant music library in the memory bank sometimes forced even his powerful artificial intelligence to strain. Finally, the right track was chosen, and both fell silent, enjoying the music. Though it is unknown what attracted the knowing one more – the rhythmic sound vibrations or the electrical impulses passing through his body from the memory bank to the speakers. Either way, he could spend hours playing songs of different genres and directions, forgetting everything…
When the robot came to, there was no one in the lounge. Only a young mello stood opposite, boringly staring at the knowing one with his single eye.
- What happened? - Master asked. Yes, it didn't go very well; all sensors were focused on the music, and the knowing one simply failed to track the surroundings.
- Oh, finally I've reached you, - Kaiyashan answered, demonstratively unfolding ears that had curled into tubes, - the captain is gathering everyone on the bridge.
- Very well, I will go to the captain.
- By the way, can I look at your sensor settings? Tweak your attentiveness, musical taste…
- No! – the knowing one answered sharply. – Thank you, I like my musical taste. Let's go.
The mello spread his arms. Unlike many of his kinsmen, he preferred digging into program codes over music or painting, and studying the knowing one's code had always been a tasty morsel that Kaiyashan had long and unsuccessfully lusted after. He spent a long time imagining neat rows of symbols and intricate patterns of commands regulating the behavior of a self-developing artificial intelligence, and with bitterness realized that the AIs he created were pathetic monstrosities compared to a living and flexible mind developed over many centuries. Kaiyashan could be the best mello-programmer and one of the best programmers in the Federation, but his skills clearly didn't reach those of the knowing ones' creators, multiplied by the natural process of evolution.
- Could I at least take a copy of your AI?
- I cannot do that, you must understand, - Master answered calmly, - I have one soul, and I cannot divide it.
- Can I at least take parts of the code?
- I will reflect on this question. If you do not try to create a copy of me, then perhaps I will give you what you ask.
Kaiyashan couldn't suppress a joyful exclamation. This was a small victory for him. The mello had met very few knowing ones, and spoken with even fewer. Buoyed by happy dreams, he entered the bridge following the robot.
The Great and Twice-Radiant Captain of all Deep-WE11, Luminous Conqueror of Evil and Guardian of the Sword of Justice, Eternally Loved and Guarded by the Crew King of the Captain's Bridge, Aradi Norid Fludokaikhavedakhnavmechileff was admiring his full-length portrait, leaning back in the captain's chair. The radiant Kosshia stood next to the canvas, pleased with herself. Sivefa hovered nearby, showing her approving gestures. Sazemayr was scrolling through her report for the tenth time. Revang leaned on the captain's chair; on the other side of the chair, with arms crossed over his chest, was Wis. Meetii was animatedly discussing something with Alexin and Nai, periodically nodding one of his eyes toward the painting or the captain. Ple-Sen stood proudly, putting on an aloof air. Obener and Geriot, as usual, were arguing, this time condescending to a half-whisper for the sake of propriety. Utro chose a darker corner and carefully observed the gathering from there. Dhkshg pretended that he was terribly interested in a rivet on the wall.
- So, - Aradi said in a cheerful voice, - we've decided it's time to have a holiday loved by all races of the Galaxy. In Pelovaye, New Year is in a week, which means by the will of the ship's captain, we declare that we too will have New Year in a week!
- But for us it's in two months, - Ple-Sen answered.
- And for us in three, who has more? – Meetii became animated.
- For us in seven and a half, - Kosshia snorted.
- We don't celebrate the end of the annual cycle. The date changed and that's it, so what? – Master noted.
- That's not interesting! – Aradi stamped his foot. – We'll never celebrate a holiday this way! In short, we've set a course for a cute little quiet planet, and there we will celebrate. And if anyone sits with a gloomy face, I'll throw them out the airlo…
Sakend paused for a second, then continued more softly:
- Forgive Aradi, he's been on edge since morning; I calmed him as best I could… We won't be throwing anyone out, but we both think that a common New Year for all of us will be an excellent idea.
Norid's head popped out from the host's chest cavity and winked at those gathered.
- Why not? – Meetii said.
- I like it, - Kaiyashan nodded.
- And you invited me here just for this? – Utro flickered, looking reproachfully at his friend.
- Relax, little Utro! – Nai smiled.
- Actually a cool idea, - Kosshia agreed. - Right, Siv?
Sivefa nodded affirmatively.
- Well then, it's settled, - Aradi continued in his usual tone, - Norid and I have already thought everything through. Read literature on various customs and all that. Obener and Geriot, you will decorate the tree. That's what all humans do, so you do it too.
- Oh, oh, I'll decorate it perfectly! – Obener became animated.
- No, the tree should be decorated with beautiful toys, not…
- In my opinion, intestines, kidneys, and lungs are very beautiful toys! And a freshly cleaned skull on the very top, m-m-m…
Geriot demonstratively grimaced. Obener looked triumphantly at his fellow ankallat.
- What's wrong, too squeamish?
- No… But those should be eaten, not hung up…
- And humans hang food on trees! – Aradi Norid became animated. - All sorts of tasty things. M-m-m, Meetii, you will help them. Otherwise they really might hang some intestines.
- O-okay, - the paaepai answered, glancing nervously at the cannibals. Somewhere in the depths of his brain, he realized that it would most likely be his own intestines being hung…
- Ple-Sen, Wis, and Nai will have to compose something creative about the old year and something equally creative about the new one, - the sakend continued. – That's an Iotas custom. You're smart; I don't know, write a poem or draw a picture, do some cross-stitch… No, no. Kosshia has another task.
- What? – the fantraika became animated.
- Wait, who's next… Here. Kaiyashan, Dhkshg, and Master will build us a little hut. This is according to Kaanyeshey custom; you can't meet the new year at home, it's a bad omen. So… Revang, take Sazemayr and Utro. You must ensure our comfort, safety, and survival; the planet is uninhabited. Sivefa, Alexin, and Kosshia. You will prepare the food…
- No way, that's not man's work, - Alexin snorted.
- No way, that's not woman's work, - Kosshia snorted back in same tone.
- But we have to cook something, - Sivefa spread his arms. - Maybe Alexin and I, well I don't know, will catch some game, pick some fruit, and Koshi…
The girl growled and rolled all four eyes.
- Fine, fine. And you, captain, what will you be doing?
- As for us, - the captain answered importantly, - we have the hardest job - making others work.
- By the way, regarding food I want to suggest something, - Revang intervened. – Back home, persimmons are just ripe. I really miss that fruit.
- Where are we going to find you your persimmons? – the fantraika noted.
- Well, if it's difficult…
- We will spare nothing for our first officer! – the captain exclaimed. – New order from management: by the new year we need to urgently order and bring a hundredweight of persimmons from somewhere. Whoever manages it gets to sit in our chair for ten minutes!

I read for a long time. There must be a reader of the read present in the world. Initially, I sat and thought that this applied to a person's life, then concluded that it applied to society as a whole, then I suddenly realized that it is quite likely there is no sitting in the world.
Take a tomato, a level seven fluder. On the way under the bunk, a rib fell under his pen and he died. One would think, where is the salad here? Where is Julius? Where is Mark? Definitely, the answer is neutron.
And there's a cucumber of Zanzibar ziggurats, which grew and grew and grew. And now at its one thousand four hundred eighty-eight seeds it clings to the ceiling. Did it cling poorly?
If you shuffle this way, it turns out that not tights, but thermal underwear; for every happy successful person in tights, there are ten to twenty thermal-underwear-wearers. When I came to this discouraging building, to be honest, I thought Arandors built it.
How can a spray bottle be the master of its own spritz if all its spraying depends on the hand that will most likely break its handle sooner or later? What is the point of eating leaves if you are still a bush that Chubakkis constantly pee on? You can close libraries for this for a long time, you can be a merchandiser or a man-at-arms sincerely rejoicing at every new shield strike, but a screwdriver remains a screwdriver: ninety percent of the planet's screws will be driven into walls for a joke, from which they have practically no chance of climbing out.
It was naive to lie down and think that these grains of sand would bypass the beach and you could calmly quack, bark, get a turtle and be at least like oatmeal. But here is the root vegetable. I spat all my saliva just for a tiny cascade resonance; after how many headcrabs should I have come to realize that this was all perhaps hitting Cheburashka with a fuck? Why should I receive a certificate of oil-smearer on bricks for the opportunity to smear oil on a brick? I don't see a reader here. I see coronal mass ejections here.
It is pleasant to realize that you are putting bread on sausage. But, if they give - take, if they take - give. It's like shooting with two fingers, if you take into account all your own mustaches. I naively assumed that I could pull gum out of a clean navel in another carabiner, supposedly be able to smoke up in a couple of minutes, reach combustion, ha-ha, he forgot to take off his pants. Naturally, like attracts like.
Undoubtedly, January 95, 3666 is not a very good day for such a quiet milkman. Once again I received a holey blender through zigging after the night of long knives. So to speak, the feeling of pate for a couple of kalpas was replaced by finally landing in a prusak, where I lagged behind Crocodile Dundee with a bunch of cloves in boots, criticizing Schnabel's films.
Yes, these are all slippery screams, and I myself enjoy charging batteries on hair. Exquisite even. After all, there are minimum methods that work worse than Arandors on Friday. What bravo do I have, bravo, bis! Never melted the stove, but could always give a light. Perhaps jelly elves are an ideal mental abstraction for describing a cheap reality show. Internet, I have a substantial prepayment: first of all, I don't swear in public transport and king of lyres. For now. And also I can gently exchange dollars for sharpened pikes, although it doesn't spread through the hands like ice cream on a hot July day. But, seller, take some tea money! Architecture is arranged according to such a cornerstone prince that you cannot just be a prince and druzhina. Like Maximus killing the emperor. And oversalting pike-perch, each time exposing crabs at the sight of which your liver grumbles, is also not desired and becomes harder with every pike-perch.
Always (or already never) stand in line once and cause great pain to the person standing behind you. And there are still very many such people, not counting those who just want to ask. Not physically, of course, but hypothetically, but this stall closes much faster than I run, and will close in a second or two. And simple rusks here will no longer be enough. Probably, that is the basis of programming. I cannot be like Billy, but at the same time I cannot beat very special ones, like women. Something between a closed circuit and a sober chihuahua, while in both perturbations Jupiter is cooler than Saturn.
I would like to be a warrior. No, just kidding, a back-end obviously. A hard, strong back-end of a slipper lying on the flat shelves of a nightstand in Mozambique, with other slippers of its level, rejoicing at every new foot and sincerely proud of its slapping. Why am I not powerful, why don't I drive flocks of clouds? After all, it should be like dough. Right to the cabbage, right to the cabbage ska!!11! Where is the flour here, where is the rolling pin? I no longer need a parade in my honor, nor Zero fighters, nor sweet bread. What is so hard about this? I cannot knead this, and because of that it's even worse... ... ... ..
The only conclusion from this: Rondon really doesn't play so badly in the EPL; now I've founded Microsoft. Ah, well, Allahu Akbar, warriors of jihad! Sieg heil, overmen!


HERE >(.

Probably, the spirits in the nearest unfamiliar store in this city really paint grass like that. Interesting observation. Now I am truly overturning it.
That's a truly jelly arrow of a jelly elf, boom-boom-boom, you can cut the cake and put on a Timati track))) And don't construct Burj Khalifa more simply, it is a smart occupation of straight hands, sift me for this; sometimes it happens, specifically went around the corner and stepped into dog gifts.

Housh-au