H_O_M_O_ R_A_T_I_O_N_A_L_I_S_(SCIENCE FICTION)Chris MYRSKI, Sofia, Bulgaria ?1979 ... 2023— — — — —
— — — — — CONTENTS Foreword The recruit It sounds logical The discovery of professor Kolossov The stimulator of Peter MacGreeves The clover The marriage proposal Right of choice Homo Rationalis The tunnel The cannibals Biological partner The order The sixth day Homo Retarded Nights and days of a young robo-mother What else if not afterlife? Afterword — — — — — P A R T T H R E E — excerpts!THE STIMULATOR OF PETER MACGREEVES A number of considerations made me to systematize my recollections of my continuous friend and partner Peter MacGreeves. I say "made me" because have not seen him already four years, yet he lives and prospers, for once in 3-4 months I receive messages from him. The information, in fact, is only one bit, i.e. "I am alive", but after all I don't need more than this. My main desire in writing of these pages is the wish to throw the right light on the life and activity of the "great Pete", as many justly call him. As his sole partner and close friend during the last ten years I know very good this really great man, worth not only his time, but also the future, which he often predicted correctly. Yet not once he has told me something before the moment when it became relevant, or before has come the right moment when I would have believed him. So well, I know him for a long time, because we studied in the same college, yet this time has nothing to do with his stimulator. He was quite tall and in his young years looked very lean, but over the years he became a bit rounded, so that now it is more proper to characterize him as slim. His eyes were brown, yet persistent and most often thoughtful, the hair — still pitch-black, the nose —regular, the manner of walking — always hurried. There will, though, hardly be found someone who has not seen him on a photo. I can add also that he has the habit to wrinkle his forehead, when his brain was occupied with something, and scratch often the nose, as if from there comes his inspiration for work. Among the other boys in the college he was distinguished with merry disposition and enormous industriousness. After this time, however, our ways diverged and I have known only that he entered the University and studied medicine, and two years later understood that he has moved to the mathematical faculty, and in the end finished either psychotronics, or neurobionics, or molecular electronics — here I can lie to you because I don't remember exactly, and he was not talkative when it was about him. And also, how am I to remember when in that time we were not together, and after I received my diploma of manager I worked all the time "at high speed" going to bed and awakening with stock exchange shares. For five years I succeeded to accumulate about 400 thousand, beginning nearly from zero, i.e. with 15 thousand and 242 dollars, five suites, and some useful contacts of my father. Later, when I jumped over the million, the things went even better. And so, after we for about ten years have seen each other two or three times, and this always occasionally, imagine my surprise when one September day my secretary tells me that some Greeves wants to see me on personal business. And exactly then the stock market was so lively, like not once for the last several months, and there was work how much you want and even more. But there was nothing to be done, I begged him in, old friend, after all, and maybe he has left without a penny, thought I. I would have given him a thousand, yet not more, because, anyway, I wouldn't have thought to want it back. So he entered the room, but well dressed, well-fed, and cheerful as before. We shook hands, chatted a bit about old acquaintances, I invited him, naturally, for a visit, to introduce him to my wife on the next weekend, or when he wanted, as long as the stock exchange is closed, and already looked at my watch because the time, as you know, is not only fourth dimension but something more palpable. Now I recall that there was a rainfall then — I remembered this because have thought that when in such weather he has come dry, then this was either in an own car, or in a taxi, and, hence, his affairs were not so bad. So that my Pete sits entirely calm in the chair, casts thoughtful glances to the rain through the window, and asks me, as if in passing, could you imagine this, he asks me, whether I would like to become more kind, sensitive, and noble? And this when the exchange was directly burning, can you believe this? But he waited not too long and went in an offensive: — You see, Steve, I am scientist and humanist, maybe also idealist, yet I know that you are businessman, and when I take already 12 minutes of your time under this situation on the stock market, then this means that I have reasons. My question is not only about you personally but about the human in general. Hardly somebody will agree to be kinder to the others, because in this way he could easier be deceived, but everybody wants that the others were kinder to him. Well, I know one method to make money out of this, and quite big money even for you! As much for the while, try to find time to come to me on this address in the course of one week, in any time of the day. There is no need of notification, for I almost don't leave the house. Recall that I have never cheated you, so that this is in your own interest. This was all, he left me his business card and went through the door. Now look at him, thought I, ... 1980 — — — — — THE CLOVER The adults just don't believe me and that's it, however much I have not explained the matter. There also my friends did not believe me in the beginning, but when they lay for some time on the meadow and when looked at it better, then their eyes became big as pancakes. Only that I will begin from the very beginning, so that everything becomes clear, and then who wants let him believe me. And will write this as a story, in order that, when some time passes and people learn the truth, to be able to show them who invents things and who not. So well, the beginning was August 17th, 1965. It also the whole story is, in fact, only about the beginning, and when will come the outcome I can't tell you, yet nobody else can tell you this, I vouch for this. Only that I will not say to you that as soon as I woke up and immediately felt that there will happen something extraordinary in that day, as they often write in the books, because I will have to lie then to you and the pioneers should not lie (not that when they grew older then this will be allowed, yet some do it not even blinking an eye)*. So that the day was normal — hot and sunny, because was the time of summer holidays, and then every day is good, even if it rains cats and dogs. Well, I got up, washed myself, breakfasted, caught one not big pail, and — let's go to pick raspberries. [ * The story was written in totalitarian years, so that a number of concepts have grown old, but I see no sense in editing it, because the ideas are still actual. The pioneers, for those who might not know this, were before the members of Komsomol, and are more or less equivalent (despite the heap of bad things that are now said about them) to the boy-scouts. ] It must have been about 10 o'clock when I went out because it was already pretty hot. Hens were digging in the dirt of the court, birds were chirping, bees were humming, and the sun was scorching from above how it is normal in August. Romeo run a bit after me but soon was fatigued by this and returned to the village, while I continued for the Bear Ravine, as they call it here. In less than an hour (or maybe more) I filled the pail and continued to gulp alone. It was still good that my mother was not with me to scold me why I eat them unwashed and to explain me with whatnot bacilli and germs they are filled. For she's a doctor and knows only this to preach, and instead of to harden me she stuffs in me all kinds of medicine. Yet this isn't so bad because I don't take half of them, and later she writes apologetic notes for me not to go to school, because I am on home treatment. And it is still good that she has allowed me to go to the village, for otherwise there would have been nothing about what to write this story. So I was speaking about the raspberries. I ate to my full and decided to return, but why have I to lag in this heat at noon, so that when I went to the meadow I left the pail in shade under a small oak tree, walked to the wellspring nearby, drank cold water and returned to the raspberries, in order to rest a little. I lay down in the dappled shade and closed the eyes for a bit — just to digest for a while the fruits in my belly. Well, OK, I don't deny that I fell asleep, yet this means nothing! Exactly for this reason the adults don't believe me — I was sleeping and have dreamed everything. And the meadow, say I to them? So this sometimes happens, and maybe it was such also before but I have not noticed this, and so on. Yet I am not to distract myself because here the most interesting begins. ... 1985 ? — — — — — |
Сконвертировано и опубликовано на http://SamoLit.com/