Оглавление

1. LONER IN THE RUSH HOUR CROWD
2. Chapter one
3. Chapter two
4. Chapter three
5. Chapter four
6. Chapter five
7. Chapter six
8. Chapter seven
9. Chapter eight
10. Chapter nine
11. Chapter ten
12. Chapter eleven
13. Chapter twelwe
14. Chapter thirteen
15. Chapter fourteen
16. Chapter fifteen
17. Chapter sixteen
18. Chapter seventeen
19. Chapter eighteen
20. Chapter nineteen
21. Chapter twentieth
22. chapter twenty first
23. Chapter twenty second
24. Chapter twenty third. (Last and shortest)

Chapter one

I am going to kill, because I am a fool. If I were not a fool, I would sit at home and drink tea with jam. But I am a fool, and this is so. And so it is not from an excess of self-criticism. And not because there are not enough brains: alas, too much of them. Therefore, I am a fool not hopeless: principled. Having principles: what could be worse?! The order of the «hopeless one» gives, at least, hope on being. A principled fool not only has principles: he also «goes to the principle», going like a war. He climbs onto the wall, he knocks on the locked door. In a word, «causes fire to himself». He begs for trouble — and acquires requested.

All this is me, and all this because I have the wrong look on things. What does life teach us about the right look? That’s right: the right look is when you don’t look and see! In exact accordance with the installation «I see nothing». And, if also «nothing I don’t hear, I don’t know anything, I won’t say anything to anyone», this is a guarantee of longevity, because you will not touch anyone — and nobody will touch you… maybe… if you’re lucky…

But, at least, there is a chance! And the indifferent fool and there is no chance: after all, I am also an indifferent fool! Would be indifferent — would not be a fool. And, if there were — it is harmless, not interfering with anyone, first of all, to myself. As a result: I am doomed to loyalty to the priority of not personal health, but public. And in what form: through damage to the health of individuals, unless, of course, these flawed ones — and without my damage — can be considered personalities. And I am doomed not only to loyalty, but also to the ministry. And this already «obliges and imposes». Some declarations on the principles do not get off. We must prove them — and ourselves — on practice. And it is necessary to practice not on mannequins, but on living carriers of evil. Such, here, trouble happened to me. And it still happens. And all that is needed: pass by! At least, do not cling to personal complaints about the public, even if unwilling to! Alas…

The struggle for the right thing — through «going to work» — is hard work. Is what I do humanely? Well, this is how to look. Here already need a viewing angle. In the generally accepted sense, humanism is a principle of worldview, based on the belief in limitless human capabilities to improve, the requirement of freedom and protection the dignity of the individual, the idea of the human right to happiness and that satisfaction of his needs should be the ultimate goal of society. The text is not mine: from some dictionary. But our thoughts with the disinterested, I hope, the author, are in unison.

So, here: if we approach this principle from the point of view of «the life owners», then humanism is the exclusive right of the latter-day «navels of the earth». They do not accept any restrictions, nor even calls for moderation in the spirit of the attitude towards «rational egoism». «Mine is mine, and yours are mine too!» The case of Clovis lives and wins! Let even common sense and humanity itself prevail.

But there is another point of view: the priority of public interests over personal ones. In my «work» I slipped exactly to it, unintentionally, of course, through carelessness. And did not want: it happened. But, if objectively, outside of my «accident»: it «has the right on equal rights» with rival. Moreover, today the rights of this point are preemptive. Willingly or unwittingly, I myself make them so, giving them an advantage.

Like a sweet dream, I see a reverse perspective! Oh, I would not consider my identity through the prism of society! Not to contact him even through good deeds, because they all have one way out: «sideways and always to the benefactor. Better it will be so: «mine is mine, and yours is yours!» — in the sense of «your problems». And do not ship me a question about the relationship between the individual and society! I agree: even there, abroad, today have already «fed up» with their former priority. Understanding, that the public is above the personal, is now universal. That is, the individual must make room, and if she does not want, then press her. And even oppress. And this is in the mainstream of universal understanding too, even under ritual spells about human rights.

So what I have, to whom and what to refer to. In case if this will be necessary. I am not about the judgment of man, and even not the Last Judgment: the judgment of his soul. So far with this business is the order: we «reached an understanding» with a friend. And if I condemn myself for anything, it is solely for the absence of indifference, saving and beneficial one, elixir of life and peace of mind.

Hence is my point of view on the question: do I, the individual, need to compromise personal for the sake of society? And not only to compromise, but to stand up for the one, who supplies me with some problems? Isn’t it easier to turn on the defensive reflex: «I see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing to anyone»?! And I, as a person, would not associate with society, if not other «personalities». Unfortunately, I am a different person myself. Not average, but social activist in misfortune.

But I did not myself come to life like this: they brought me. Who are they? A strange question: «personality», of course! What exactly? Through their deeds, starting with the slogan «More socialism!» and ending with the slogan «Long live capitalism!»! Only in vain did they expect to find a lamb in me, at least, God’s lamb, at least, for the slaughter.

I say this not without regret, proceeding from the black envy of «trembling creatures», because I myself am one of those who have the «right». «Slaves, who are under the yoke, must honor their masters worthy of all honor» — it’s not about me. «Comrades-gentlemen» made a wrong address — and I made a wrong reaction. Because he explained to them, that «here you are not there». I explained lucidly, so that they not only reach them, but also that they «reach» — with my help immediately «to the point». To the last «point». To the finish line.

The eternal Russian question: «who is to blame?» I will be honest: both, but each in its own way. I am guilty of having responded. They — that provoked the reaction. They privatized my right to a decent life, and I went even further: privatized them themselves. I have privatized their bodies and the lives of these localities — and other comrades will, I hope, take care of their souls and lives there. And, I hope, not from the office of Our Lord.

Of course, I didn’t limit myself to choosing objects of work, and I do not confine myself only to the «mighty of this world» from yesterday’s speculators. Thanks to their activities and the very fact of their existence, I did not stay and for a long time I would not remain without work and clientele, because «the bond of time has broken». New times are incessantly «giving away» a new «product». A vivid example of loyalty to the law of unity and the struggle of opposites: there would be no happiness, but unhappiness would help. You can understand it — and you need — in two ways, including, as happiness for others — and misfortune for me. Unhappiness for a person deprived of indifference. The «product» of the new times is the scope of my efforts. In the spirit of the new time — or, more correctly, of the timelessness, I am a life privatizer. The chosen lives of the «chosen ones». They «chose» themselves — and I «chose» them, because they left me no choice.

Why did this happen and continue to happen? If not ascend to the times, described by Engels in his work «The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State», I will say this: «I cannot do otherwise». I myself could not: «comrades» helped me — those, who are «gentlemen». Well, they got help of those, who now comply with the slogan «who was nobody — he will become everything!» «in rewind mode»: those, who have become «nobody».

These «nobody» is no less evil, than those, «who have become all». After all, they give live to those, «other». They give to live by one fact of their existence! And not only to live, but also to create, exclusively in the meaning of «messing up», «getting up»! That is, all — on the line of evil. For the very act of the existence of those, who «became all» is evil! Because they live not only at the expense of «giving», but also at my expense! But I was not called a sponsor! So it turns out: «those, who made the return journey», are accomplices of evil and evil themselves. But evil must be fought: we have been bequeathed to this by folk tales. And not only Russians, but all the other nations of the world. So I fight — to the best of strength and capabilities.

I did not immediately come to the choice and «got on the road». For a long time I was «out of stock»: pretended to «smoke out». In strict accordance with the law of natural selection: «do not protrude out of the hole!» «Do not be noticeable — and they will not notice you!» And there, you will leave «your trick» somehow. The main thing is to always be in the right place at the right time, that is, nowhere and never. «I see nothing, hear nothing, know nothing, nothing to anyone I will not say». Ignorance is power, mimicry is a gift! And, if you still have brains, the chances of being increase many times over. It does not matter, that this is the being of a cockroach. «Jedem — das seine!»: «To each one — his own!» «With a strong do not fight, do not sue the rich!» proverb says. She speaks because she tried it on itself.

But I was not going to sue or fight. I was not even going contact anyone. And I didn’t want to go «on the road»: I was pushed out on it. Not life: the manifestations of its new owners! They — manifestations together with the owners — made two mistakes. First: they pushed me, pushed a caring person, who by its nature cannot «honor their masters worthy of all honor»! Second, they «made a mistake with the address», believing, that they had guided me on the right path: the path of «a slave, who was under the yoke». They could not imagine, that «we will go the other way»!

As a result, forced to reason, I reasoned like this: «If the Bolsheviks expropriated the expropriators, then why not push aside from their example, and not optimize the optimizers?! Is not the defense of oneself the first duty of man? Is not resistance to evil good? So why complicate the problem?! After all, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line! Hence: for good, too, must strive for the shortest way: through the elimination of evil… through the elimination of its carriers! In vain, perhaps, it is said, that everything ingenious is simple!»

Having become a «simple genius», I «pushed off» — and now I am producing «sweep rows». After such a «solo», who from decent people will turn his tongue to call me a serial killer? No one will turn! And if someone turns around, that «someone» is dishonest himself, because I’m not a serial killer and not a maniac. At the same time, I am not the avenger, not a «cleaner», and not a revolutionary. This is elementary: in vain did I, perhaps, burst into tears with the prologue?! I am like that because I got it. Me personally! «The soul of the poet did not endure». Well, somewhere «mine», of course, coincided with «our». Objectively: the good of all is above the good of the individual… «masters of life.»

Alas: it is not always possible to «stick to the line» in response to external stimuli. This is due to a heightened sense of justice. It is unfair because when unjust people live and thrive — at the expense of others always, even if the settlement and other accounts are their own. Therefore, I am «a little bit Dubrovsky» and «a little bit Robin Hood». Only, unlike them, I am on my own without flags and slogans, without a «support» resource «in the face of a group of comrades», without the need for publicity. I am one soldier in the field, «lone wolf», but not «the orderly of nature». I did not «subscribe» and did not hire. And I am not programmed to improve the breed. Well, here, I do not set global goals — neither before myself, nor before the masses, nor before the objects of work. I do not wave the flag, do not climb the podium, and do not rush to the microphone. I do not call anyone and do not raise anyone in the spirit of «Arise, o mighty Land!» And I do not act «on behalf of», even for the good of those without whose authority I completely get around.

And everything is because I am not… (see the list above). Well, I do not have such a need and there are no such genes. And such a person is not from nature: from such a life. Before — in my old life — I was not like that. Because before there was no such life. In a past life, I was «no one», who «would become everything». In this life I did the «return trip», «made a maneuver in the other direction». Not by my own will, of course. Only willfulness is a double-edged sword. Without knowing it and not wanting it, his source reoriented me to the «other value system» with the same will. The one in which the biggest is human life of the specific person. With only one «but»: in terms of her weaning from him, solely in order to save the lives of everyone else.

I already hear the question: «By what right?! Who gave it to you?!» The question would have been legitimate if it were not for the iniquity that called me to work watch, the lawlessness of the new «masters», even if elevated to the degree of law. It was this that gave rise to my lawlessness — according to the law of the investigation and the reason. How goes around comes around, so will respond! But my lawlessness is just a natural reaction to legalized lawlessness. Under this set, I had the legal right to assert my rights to the rights! And I declared them.

How did I declare? It was very simple: I took it! Following the example of the cinematic Abdullah, to whom Allah said: «If you are strong and brave, go and take it yourself!» I will not say anything for strength and courage, but I «went and took»! So, no one gave me anything, because I «did not go out with a petition»! «In the struggle you will find your right!» — «decreed» the Social Revolutionaries. I just improved the slogan — and gained the right before the fight, in future — so as not to be distracted.

Well, to the question about the law… Well, the one that is «for what». So, after all: «Do I have a trembling creature or do I have the right?» And my court is fair, quick, accessible in form, without corrupt judges, lawyers, officials. I work accurately and precisely, quickly and ruthlessly like a surgeon. Yes, I am a surgeon: remove malignant tumors… from life and society.

Why did it happen so? No, not even that: why did I happen to be like this? Probably, it happened so because it would be boring to live without fools with principles, of course. We, such, interfere with the settling of what should not resist. It does not pay us dividends, but this is our destiny. Like that hump of a camel. I already said: «I cannot otherwise». Could I, it would be different: elementary!

Yes, and then: «who if not me?!» No, I do not climb on a pedestal with a large chest. This is a topic of high esteem. Alas, everything is much simpler: if not me, then nobody. No one breaks into the guardians of justice. At least, no one cares about it in practice. That is, by specific deeds. Good intentions do not count: what is lined with them has long been known. I do not harbor good intentions, and I do not sum up a scientific base for my actions. I just act. I pay my due, without waiting for the Court to a hypothetically Higher Instance. Because it’s impossible to wait for it: there are everywhere procrastination and formalism!

Instead of this tedious occupation, which is not even guaranteed, I am already calmly and efficiently «cleaning the object». «I clean» not under the contract, but at the behest of the heart: «I cannot otherwise». I have no scheduled tasks, but I have a plan. No, not a plan for the shaft and not a «dream-idea», as one comrade said. I do not build communism in a single yard. Such plans I do not have. My plan is simple: «I’m alone on the road». But go out not from the bay-floundering, but according to the plan.

According to the plan I have «not a single day without achievement». «Rumbled»? Okay, let’s lower the bar: «Not a day without good deeds». Of course, about the «day» — that’s a small emotional overlap also. Good deed is not a must. And then what are my words about the absence of scheduled tasks? A good deed is, sorry for the high calm, the flight of the soul! This is a rush! Well, remember: «the soul’s wonderful impulses», which must be «dedicated» to Motherland.

My impulse is from the same «string bag». I, of course, specially I do not «dedicate», but I think, that my impulses are for the benefit and good. To whom? To Motherland, of course! After all, if I’m not looking for personal benefits, then their recipient is different! And, if I optimize the «villain of social significance», then only society can be a «recipient of dividends»! I, though not a «sanitary order of nature by definition», but also sanitize! I’m improving too! I contribute without even setting such a goal! As a non-revolutionary and «a little bit of Don Quixote», I am just a partial person. But everyone would be so indifferent! How would we live, even and the smaller number, but the highest quality!

But, alas: we are such living minerals. I am so generally one, alone in this anthill. I am loner in the rush hour’s crowd. Only form is romantic, not content. And in a world full of people, you cannot just piece: lonely. But I am not a «lonely monk, wandering in the rain under a leaky umbrella». I prefer Confucius Ibn-Sin:

«I am alone, but do not consider me wrong,

For the true faith I am the first example».

This is much more optimistic and closer to the image. I, such, am the one, but am I the only one? Jesus, Mahomet, Buddha, Lucifer — we are all kin… along the line of loneliness! And yet we are all colleagues, even though of different appeal, but one vocation! Our role: working with the team. «Everything is in the name of man, everything is in the good of man!» Each of us found himself in the work with others! We all fight and embody. We fight for the happiness of mankind, we embody the ideals, each in its own way. For example, I fight in line with the optimization of villains and their nutrient medium.

So, it turns out: small spool, yes roads! That’s immodest, but it’s me — about me. About who is small in number, but great in works. Although works — to do, do not alter! For my works are derived from the works of democracy. She did her dirty deed: she took away the last brains of the masses not overweight. In the absence of brains, «People» healed belly. To me, he is not an assistant. Moreover, sometimes he himself is the object of work, because with missing brains he is «on the other side». And it does not matter, that he does not understand this. For me it does not matter. I am not an educator: I am a «terminator», «finisher» of human copies. And if people are in the way of my ideas about good and evil, I remove the obstacle. For me, he and his antipode: «the powers that be» are two sides of the same coin, whose name is «Evil».

A little more «tear the stripped vest»: indifference in me because I am not a democrat. «Democracy» is good only in the book and only as a concept. In life, it is cut off from the roots, and exists separately, itself by oneself. as an abstraction, which has become its opposite in practice, as the opposite of the claimed reputation. Here, they say: «democratic state». How can this be, if democracy is the power of the people, and the state is the apparatus for the suppression of the majority in the interests of the minority? It turns out: the power of the people — as the power over the people! It’s original, but only in the «black and white» format!

But the people are not those. who are on top! Not those, who are «above»! The people are me! And he! And they! Hence, the power are we: me, he, they! More precisely: the branches of power! We are the branches of power, not corrupt deputies, bureaucrats and bandits in police uniform! And, if they are «branches», then of another power. Not popular: «democratic». They are dry branches. And dry branches are cut mercilessly — any gardener will tell you!

I believe that for the first time I have illuminated myself enough, although do not like to «shine». After all, for the «knife and ax worker» day is night. But «to consolidate the past» — once again: I am not a «orderly» or avenger. I just can’t hold back. I can’t pass by. And now I came out «not to be able» and «not to pass by»…

Chapter two

…I see him from the window of his apartment. His is the arrogant master of arrogant «Lexus». Auto divides the footpath in two. They with master do not confused by mothers with strollers, old women with their sticks and children with dogs. No, it might be embarrassed, but the owner does not allow it. Nothing bothers him: he is the master of life. At a minimum, declares itself as such. I see it not the first day — and it is not the first day that it accelerates with its «automonster» pedestrians — «violators of traffic rules on footpaths». Several people, who tried to stand up for the status of the pedestrian walkway, received an immediate failure: they were beat out.

Thus, the issue of re-education is no longer necessary, neither in front of me, nor in front of the «object of work». This is no longer amenable to treatment with therapeutic agents: «surgery» is needed here, radical «surgery». By his dishonest deeds, «this» honestly deserved the rank of «client». And, «means to us — there is a road!» as one comrade said.

I calmly dress and leave the house. A couple of minutes, not more, left me before meeting. Him — too. But, unlike me — not only see me: until the «twelfth strike».

«Hello.»

I am extremely polite. I am not even embarrassed by the fact, that I deserve only a quarter of a full look. The text, of course, and should not wait: I cannot wait. If I wait, it’s not the one that the average citizen is expecting in response to his greeting.

«Tell me, please, haven’t you seen the sign „Passage prohibited“?»

Paradox, but before the «entrance» to the footpath really hung up «brick»! As if it is already unclear, that the footpath is not a continuation of the highway! What pedestrians walk on it, not cars! At least, must walk!

The «master of life» changes slightly in the face, but only so that the next one in the queue for the change would be me.

«What did you said?!»

Even «gold-rimmed glasses» do not save me from the «noble» contempt. The owner — both life and jeep — opens the door. He clearly intends to teach me a «lesson of life». It is possible, that the last in life. The complex allows him not only to hope, but also to count on it: a man is a head taller than me and half a cube thicker.

But he is mistaken — both in intentions and in calculations, exclusively in his own. Because «giving a lesson» is my role. Even if after this lesson life is no longer necessary for him. He, of course, is not against living yet, but I am already opposing his desire. Not «on behalf of»: «for the sake of life on earth!» I am not confused by the installation on the weaning for the sake of life, because it will not be better, because it will be better for all of us — without him. And although I act from myself and for myself, I am sure that my subjective desire coincides with the objective needs of society. And, therefore, I do not transgress: I am glad!

«Well, you…»

I immediately find out «everything about myself». I learn through the «digest» using local idiomatic expressions. On the second, the fists, «equipped» with the mount, are clearly «served» with steel mount. «Comrade» already understood everything and decided to «urgently correct» — by «correcting me».

I unclasp my hand. Quickly unclasp: there is no time to become a hero. The eye of the «master» slips into, what I have in my hand. In the next moment, his muzzy face breaks into a smile. He laughs: I have a small folding knife in my hand. This is against his mount and the muzzle, which fears the mount?

He swings at me quickly and not to scare me. Not to drive me away like an annoying fly: the guy obviously prefers words to words. Such a thing, that he used to bring to the end, ntil the end of people like me. Therefore, the «fly» is destined to not be driven away, and swatted.

But he again makes a mistake, already the second one in such a short time. I am not as defenseless as he would like. And yet I am not going to play the role assigned to me: either hit the run or hit the curb after the blow struck me. And I’m not going to join the discussion: the eternal mistake of our brother-intellectual.

Instead, I press one small button — and from a small handle of a small, supposedly folding knife, like a lightning, a small, only a few centimeters, blade flies out. That’s right: crashes, like bullet from the barrel of a pistol. And since I am aiming at the «master» in the eye, it means «there is a way for us there!»

The exchange of roles is made: my failed «murderer» took place as a victim. «Getting in the eye», he returns to the driver’s seat. But already back and cross. And in an optimized form: he definitely does not have one eye. A small blade hits with terrible force. Both of them — both the blades and his strength — are enough to work out not only the eye, but also the brain. «Rear view» is not available to me, but I have no doubt, that a few millimeters of the blade «enliven the landscape». And I do not guess, but I know: I tested it on metal and wooden objects, so to say, «conducted tests on the bench».

But the second eye can even be surprised. This remark is not to the issue of pathology: just a «protocol for inspecting the scene of the incident». For a moment, I even wonder if I hurried with conclusions. Well, in terms of the «final solution of the issue». After all, a person who is able to be surprised is not yet a goner! But next the moment we leave each other in doubt. First, the counterpart’s surprise is peculiar: only that he was in my place. After all, it was me who now had to revive — or deaden — the landscape with my «presence-absence». Secondly, the not-yet-finished man was already… a washed-up man. More precisely: finished off by me personally. Yes, and as a man, he ended long before his end. And, maybe, he did not start at all. And if so, then so be it! In the sense of: not to be him. And if they were to be only the former!

I look around. Not spy: not before the movie. I’m visibly nervous. Not because of the act of optimization: the situation and does not claim the status of «and the bloody boys in his eyes». I am nervous for another reason: our street is not at all quiet, because it is not a street, but the central street. But I am lucky: as ordered, the street works off the street. Along the line of living souls: none in sight. I hope that I am «out of the field». This is not for long, but enough for me to «get out of the battle without a loss». I am lucky. Although why is it «lucky»? Why should it be the other way around? After all, «the opposite» — and so is my daily «modus vivendi».

Just in case I mow my eyes round and in all directions. There is no one here. It probably happens, that way because there is. But, «however» — it’s time: a chance «light up» is ready to give himself at any time and not at my disposal. Therefore, I do not think long. Already at the moment of departure I was visited by the thought: would you let me know? Do not draw with blood the «victim of the attack of the unknown» sign «brick» on the windshield? Well, to understand and think?

But the next moment, this thought is «driven over» by another: what if they understand more than I would like? That is, they guess, that this is the work of a local comrade? Simple logic: what is the business of the «transit passenger» to the «alien scoundrel»? There are his own scoundrels on the «transit»! So, «the soul of the poet did not endure… according to his place of residence»?! Here, and it will turn out: instead of trying to instill in fear potential offenders, I will instill myself by giving trail to «comrades from the regional administration»! Of course, I really want to sensitize them, but it is better, though, to enlighten oneself.

And I do so: immediately, albeit slowly, I appeal in a passerby. One thing is done — and now I have to do another: to comprehend what has been done. No, better, like this: «done»! And there is something to comprehend: the first thing. I don’t want to remember a soldier who mourns his first victim, but even a soldier cannot remain indifferent, even a soldier who is «state-wise»! What to speak for us, civilians?

I go home and indulge in thinking. No, I do not «lay wreaths on the grave». The «untimely fallen» fell even at the wrong time, but with an obvious delay. According to merit, he would have long since grown into worms: no good. Therefore, my thoughts are «on the other side»: «what to do?» Not in the sense of «run or stay?». On the contrary: the question is global. Like Chernyshevsky in the novel. I took the first step — do I need to do the next? After all, the first step was from the category of «soul beautiful impulses». Should I move to another category — that’s the question! Whether to put work with the client on the stream or limit to what is called «according to the situation»? And, can, be limited to already made good?

First you need to deal with sensations. What are they: satisfaction? Fear? Decay? Elevated lift? Perhaps, a bit of everything. But the «root» is the rise: the rest are «bind». I feel good, not because they haven’t caught them yet: because there has been less of one rascal. Because I did a good deed. I do not know the details of the traffic violator, but I know that he deserved his fate of my client.

It takes about ten minutes — and here, the first passer-by. Now you can: I have already «retired to the prepared lines». «The First» behaves «in accordance with the instructions»: «I see nothing, hear nothing, know nothing, say nothing to anyone». He fearfully mows his eyes at the «still life», looks around and «gives the go»! Correctly does. That’s right: and mows, and looks around, and gives. Because, God forbid, they will notice… what he noticed. After all, then «involve and embrace». «Involve» by dragging, and «embrace» from all sides not only with your hands. It’s very simply for us go to category from witnesses go to category of suspects and accused.

But fools do not sow and do not reap. For ten smart there is always one… «other.» It is now. This «eleventh» — well, ten smart plus he — climbs into the car, in the American manner pokes his fingers into the client’s carotid artery, and raises the alarm. Simply put: hi. Several people come running (much more scattering — and in all directions). A group of three fools — all the clever have already dispersed — is harassed by the police, and she succeeds. As far as I understand facial expressions, the police only record what they have nothing to fix — in addition to the «body in the range». Fools are «drawn and embraced», but foolishly they still do not understand this. Understanding will come to them later — together with a «group of comrades» with improvised means «in the department» already there.

And now they are overwhelmed with a sense of pride in the consciousness of their duty. Soon, other feelings will overwhelm them — at least, two of these social activists will never again succumb to the «call of the heart». An excess of feelings will fill the lack of brains and all together they will give birth to the thought: «Do not go where you don’t ask! And even ask — do not go!»

On this day, I no longer see the permanent «garage owners» in our walkway. Perhaps, they are discouraged by a fresh spot on asphalt. Not even one spot, but several: the client leaked through all the holes, both natural and additionally arranged by me. Only one person lonely draws circles at the scene: investigator. Judging by the fact that he is alone, I make the only correct conclusion: a comrade was thrown «under the tank». And this means, that the case has already been recognized as having no prospects — and the comrade simply «works for volume»: collects waste paper. And this already means, that I can calm down completely, and even before the investigator write off the file to the archive of my memory.

But this does not cancel thoughts on Chernyshevsky: «What to do?» Restrict local success or step on the slippery slope of the struggle for justice? Stepping on her, I should be aware, that I will have to work as a scout behind enemy lines: only aliens are around. And my next step may be the last. But «you cannot shoot all»! This audience grows like toadstools: it is not necessary to cultivate. Maybe you should not burden yourself with routine tasks, even more so with taking higher obligations? Wouldn’t it be better to limit oneself to work «according to the situation», when there will be no patience, no other way out, except for going out to the business and to the client? I’m not a «conscious fighter for the cause of the revolution»: I’m just a partial person…

Chapter three

I click the knife button. No, I’m not «at work» yet. I am just inspecting the weapon… And once again «no»: not crimes, but retaliation. And this is not a question of terminology. This is a fundamental difference. And I look around not to say goodbye to it. You have to be the last fool: this is not a knife, but a work of art, piece work. As they say in places «not so remote» (simply — far): «First grade!» And, if, really, not in my pocket, then he has a place — in the museum! And not in the museum of the history of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and in the Armory!

I got it on occasion, got even before me finally «got it». I brought it from the army, from the harsh places, that «at the very edge of the earth». By the way, that’s very convenient: look for the ends… on the edge! How did this happen? Elementary: if Shura Balaganov happened sit in the prison along with a source of information about millions of Koreiko, I happened to be in the hospital with one goner, neither the name nor the face of which I do not remember. And not «already», but «immediately, as soon as». As soon as I went out of the gate of the institution: «out of sight, out of mind». That’s very convenient also: how to remember something, that did not have time to remember? I myself always try to «sink into the soul as deeply»: mutual short memory is pledge of mutual longevity.

The reasons, why I liked him, I do not know. But I just liked. In the soldiers’ hospital is boring. When there is no vodka, no cards, no women, the time is turned on exclusively by talking. And I was the master to talk! Also, what a master! I could talk «certified silent» himself! But this goner and did not have to talk: he himself was asking, maybe, because not long left for him to live. As the team informed me, the comrade with might and main was preparing to meet the «woman in white shroud», and not only with might and main in all-armed.

So in one of our conversations, I don’t remember already, an illustration of what, this knife appeared. The knife was worked by a craftsman-dad, who at the same time was listed as a recidivist. The design was simple and effective in Russian. The main thing, the device did not fail: checked «on the stand». I do not remember how and why, but I became the owner of this souvenir, which is not a souvenir at all. But I remember exactly, that when I gain the rights of violence to a comrade did not apply. Most likely, there was a mutually beneficial exchange: my good participation — for a part of his goodness.

Soon I left the hospital «as prescribed» — together with a gift. Before departure, I, as a decent person, went to say goodbye — and «said goodbye»: a comrade «ordered us all to live for a long time» the other day. I will not say, that I was too upset by this news. I will say more: it did not upset me at all. After all, the guy «gave the ends not only into the ground, but also «into the water». It is a sin to say so, but a very correct decision. Now let someone try to find it! All at once: his, me, our relationship, the knife, the manufacturer! And if so, then there was nothing: neither me — in connection with him, nor him — in connection with me! There was no other «according to the inventory»! I was free «on all four sides»: none of them had tattoos on me! And the «apparatus» is his spiritual testament to us all… in my face!..

I am lovingly stroking the device. I have indescribable sympathy for it. No, I, of course, can express — and even «express», but I will not repay what I deserve. This thing gives me what I never had: self-confidence. I felt it, not yet seeing the device in action. For sensations, I had enough of what I saw «at the booth.» I could only sympathize with the stand and the one, who in the future will be in his place. Well, it says so: «sympathize». My client does not deserve sympathy. He deserves only what he gets.

I check ammunition. The device is designed for five «shots». «Benefactor» gave me a device with a full ammunition and a clip of the bargain. Unfortunately, this device has the same drawback as a firearm: the striking tool remains in the target. And, like the bullet, I cannot remove the blade from the client, because the device is worked out conscientiously. Force transmission system and the spring is so effective, that the blade pierces the chest of a person through! If he had a plumage, then I would have to grab for it, like the tail of a firebird! That is: go and catch! Do not pick it out, in fact, especially at the place of work, when every second is dear to me! With all my political courage, I strictly follow the motto of one comrade, who said: «In our business, the main thing is to slip away in time!»

I still see crooked smirks on their faces: this does not happen! But gentlemen critics do not know the story well, and not only the history of weapons, but also a simple story. If I am not mistaken, Pharaoh Amenhotep the Second, son of Thutmose the Third, from a distance of one hundred steps from a simple bow, a simple arrow with a copper tip punched a three-finger-thick forged copper plate! And not the way it was done by the papa, who was just «breaking through» with a three-finger tip. The arrow shot by the son, passed through and fell! But I work with a better device and not from a hundred steps away!

Since my «arrows» are a consumable, I immediately faced the challenge: to fill the expense. And I went to the key keepers and bazaars. Of course, I could turn to familiar mechanics — and I would not be denied. But the police could turn to them, and they would not be denied either — this time about me. Why so gloomy? Well, if only because with all the incapacity of the modern police it is not worth it at all, really, mix with shit, even if it is it. In order to think of the idea to establish a manufacturer, it is not necessary to finish law school. I could be calm for the device itself and the «head» ammunition, but «local replenishment» could give a trace to me. At least, today’s police watch TV. And it shows that you can find out the nature of the alloy and method of manufacture.

That’s why I made a choice in favor of the handicraftsmen: neither I know them, nor they me, especially since I attached only the parameters of the blade to the advance. Yes, and I chose non-resident craftsmen: I visited neighboring areas. That is, I did everything to make life difficult for detectives, because God protects the cherished. That’s how I replenished with «ammunition.»

Everything would be fine if it were not for the unification of the method. In my case, unification is not good, even if I work well, because that narrows the search range. Me, it means. That’s trifle, but you look: it narrows! So you need a duplicate option. And I had to choose this option myself. To do, that is. Thanks to the «benefactor» for having saved me from the torments of creativity. And I resolutely embarked on the path of plagiarism.

I got up on it, sitting at the table. For the one for which I disassembled my «pocket crossbow» into structural elements. I had to record a sequence of operations: I didn’t want «extra» parts left after the reassembly. Almost without changing anything, I «shifted» the circuit to an even more compact device: a writing pen. Our bad time is good because the pens now we have for every taste, and not one of them, no matter how idiotic she looks, causes not suspicion and even curiosity.

My «taste» required a surely thick handle — and I executed it demand. It is hardly necessary to explain why the thick one: Kulibin from me — … not Kulibin, and therefore I could not reproduce the «one to one» trigger mechanism with the original, because it could not happen. Well, yes, I am not the first one. Even our missilemen cannot reproduce «one to one» «American trophies»: all the time at the exit are extra tons and extra meters. So, I not only am not in a hurry to sprinkle ashes, but even am ready to give it to more «worthy comrades» — all, without a trace.

But, be that as it may, I not only loaded the «catapult» into the handle, but also made it work. At the same time, I «in passing», nevertheless, became «a little Kulibin». Not from a great mind: from necessity. I had to change something in the device. I was going to use in the handle are not knives, but needles, and not to punch their bodies. Under this case, I already stocked up with «chemical warfare agents». How to stock up? Little background: when I tried to become a businessman, for which I just did not take it! What kind of goods did not pa