Without a complex: Izvestia publishes a fragment of Roman Senchin's book
Writer Roman Senchin, known primarily for the novel "The Eltyshevs," regularly publishes collections of short stories — Izvestia has written about them more than once. And if in the "Nineties", "Noughties" and "Tenths" the texts were grouped chronologically to create a kind of portraits of the decades indicated in the title, then in the new book "Detonation", published by AST publishing house, there is no such formal framework, but there is a cross-cutting theme of a troubled time. And sometimes discouragingly straightforward autobiography. Senchin is not afraid to admit his failures and creative crisis to the reader, complains about lack of money and creates an unflattering image of himself. So in the story "The Set of Standards" the narration is conducted on behalf of the prose writer himself. On the eve of the book's release, Izvestia publishes a fragment of this work.
Roman Senchin "A set of standards" (fragment)
During these three days, the envelope with the budget was completely empty, the stash was reduced to a thousand. I had a handful of change in my pockets, a pack of cigarettes, and a subway pass with a dozen rides... my wife asked for the first time in a long time.: "What about our money?" And I answered cheerfully: "On the way." But the ghost of bread and water became more and more tangible. He was wandering around somewhere nearby, tapping dry bones.
I couldn't think about anything, much less write. At work, I sat stupidly at my desk, pretending to proofread the layouts; in the next office, the director and the editor-in-chief were trying to figure out how to pay off the rent debt… Every now and then I opened the text message stored in my mobile phone. "Roman Valerievich, you will receive a loan of 400,000 rubles at 17% per annum. We are waiting for you! Don't forget your passport." And I was so tempted to go to the bank and take the four hundred thousand... at home, I quickly went to bed, turned to the wall, and when my wife asked in surprise: "Are you asleep already?" I mumbled sleepily.…
I left for the meeting an hour and a half before the scheduled time… I had never been to Moscow City before -the towering cluster of skyscrapers was frightening, not attractive.… In general, I admit, I am afraid of Moscow, especially new places for myself — it seems that you will turn off the usual route, switch to the wrong metro line, and something terrible will happen. Or you'll disappear altogether.
I had panic attacks several times when I got lost in the maze of exits at Kitay-Gorod station, got lost in the web of alleys between Maroseyka and Solyanka, and darted around in the semi-darkness of the empty and quiet Arbat Filevskaya line.…
The hemorrhoids started in the subway today. And again on Filevskaya. I'm not particularly lucky with this line — it's kind of fickle, unstable, like a riverbed in the desert. In addition, she has an appendage.
Without any complications, I got to Kievskaya-Koltsevaya and switched to Kievskaya-Filevskaya. I saw a train standing and jumped on it. Go.
—Student's," an automatic voice announced from the speakers; I didn't pay attention to it, thinking about my behavior at the meeting— I had to show right away that I wasn't some kind of sucker.
"Kutuzovskaya," the voice said after a while, and I got worried.
— And when is the "Exhibition"? — I asked the neighbors.
— Ho-oh! The unintelligent man on my right was amused. "You missed." Jump out and drive back. You'll find out at Kievskaya.
I jumped out and boarded the return train. There I carefully studied the way to the station I needed.
It's not that I'm unaware of the changes on the Filevskaya line. No, I heard, of course, I was happy about the opening of new stations, but I didn't go into it — I didn't have to. Once upon a time, however, I went to Pionerskaya to see a poet friend, but then he got married and became a publicist with views that were not close to me, and since then I have not felt the need in this direction. And now I got it…
Trains along the branch where the Exhibition Area I needed was located rarely ran— once every ten minutes—and I began to worry that I might be late. And while I was looking for the right direction to the Moscow tower, circling the huge shopping center, the delay became obvious. He comforted himself with the thought that almost everyone in Moscow was late, and fifteen minutes didn't count as being late. As a last resort, you can say "traffic jams" and maybe get a sympathetic nod. They don't know that I don't have a car.…
I almost ran through the endless shopping mall, past storefronts with clothes, foreign cars tied with gift ribbons, fountains, ATMs…
A young man in a plaid shirt came up to me and spoke confidentially.:
— Are you familiar with our system of discounts and bonuses?
— Which way is the Moscow Tower? I interrupted him with a question.
The young man, like a downed fighter jet, fell away from me, went somewhere to the right... I didn't look back at him.
I ended up in front of the right skyscraper. He paused for a moment, looked up — the tower consisted of several cubes carelessly stacked on top of each other.… My daughters used to build like this when they were two years old. Their dice inevitably fell. Of course, everything is serious here, the carelessness is deliberate, the design is like that, but still… How can you do something serious in such cubes?.. It became dreary.
I'm generally afraid of heights. More precisely, the consciousness of impotence. This skyscraper is about to collapse, and I'm on some floor. So what?.. It's safer on earth…
But I ran inside, found the reception desk, handed the girl my passport, and told her where I needed to go. It seemed to me that she had been digging into her computer for a very long time, typing something there too slowly. And the minutes were dripping… I'll get there now, but to me: that's it, it's late, Igor Alekseevich is busy with other issues…
"Elevators in the right wing, please." The girl gently placed her passport and ID card on the counter.
I almost got into trouble with the elevators again. He saw a flock of people streaming through the open steel doors and was about to scurry after them, but then he noticed that one man was not entering, but pointing at a screen in the wall.
— And how do you need to go here? - I asked.
— Dial the floor on the display, — he replied without irritation, — the elevator number will be displayed. And, glancing at me, he joked ominously: "Otherwise, you can rush off into the abyss."
Maybe, by the way, he wasn't joking.
I entered the office at one twenty… I'm twenty minutes late.… This is serious…
—Hello," he said to a huge guy in a dark gray suit with glittering threads standing at the door, "what about Igor Alekseevich?".
— Are you Roman Valerievich? — a girl's thin voice from the side.
- yes.
I turned around and saw a petite, pretty girl. She was smiling pleasantly, and I tried to smile.
"Nice to meet you,— she said. — Come into the meeting room, Igor Alekseevich will be here soon. Will you wait a bit?
- of course.
I went where she pointed. The girl follows.
— Tea, coffee? — She asked.
—No, thanks, not yet.
— Have a seat.
A room with an oval table. Chairs. No more furniture, except for the air conditioner.… There's a stack of thick books on the table, a landline phone... I was attracted by the full—length window, from the ceiling to the floor. Just like that — the floor, then the glass, and then immediately emptiness. Not even a sideboard… In American movies, bankrupt businessmen run away and fly out of such windows. Or successful ones are thrown out by competitors…
There was a wide panorama of Moscow outside the window. It's only the fifteenth floor, but it feels like you're flying... the panorama isn't very picturesque, though.
I cautiously looked down. There, almost under the wall of the tower, several workers were hammering away at the concrete of some unsuccessful extension, while an excavator scooped up the debris with a bucket and loaded it into the back of a truck.… All this happened silently — apparently, the glass was soundproof.…
I stepped back from the window and immediately heard a quick:
-hello!
A guy in a dark red tracksuit, about twenty-five years old, entered the room. I thought it was some kind of building technician checking the wiring or something, and I answered casually.:
— Hello…
But the guy masterfully plopped down on a chair, nodded to sit opposite.
I coughed and sat down.
— Have you read our project?
— Well, yes... in general terms…
The guy in the sweat shirt, and now I realized that this was Igor Alekseevich, who was on the Forbes list, looked at me intently. One eye was looking straight, and the other was looking slightly to the side.
I felt uneasy.
— It's a pity that we didn't get acquainted, — said Igor Alekseevich.
— No, I read the presentation, I read it carefully, — I began to convince and heard that I was speaking unconvincingly, — but it's better like this, in personal communication.
The businessman was silent for a few seconds. Then, somehow, with an effort, he began:
— Primitively speaking, we came to the need to create a universal system, a set of standards that could help create not only successful companies, but also change the overall relationship between people ... by the way, I have talked about this many times in interviews, wrote in articles. Haven't you met?
—Well..." That damn "well" very often pops up as the first of many more decent words with which to start an answer. — Of course I have! But, you know, meeting is one thing, but getting into it…
"They didn't get into it, then," Igor Alekseevich shook his head in annoyance and looked at me again, somehow narrowing his eyes, as if preparing to give up on me.
I began to get annoyed internally, deep down... what does he really want? So that I could immediately say, "I'm ready for anything! I'm waiting for assignments!" And click your heels together.
"You see," I began again, not very successfully, "the idea is, of course, interesting... noble, more precisely… But it is unlikely that it will be possible to bring it to life.
- why?
— People won't follow the complex… That is, some will try, while others will not.… And these first ones won't end up either.
The businessman narrowed his eyes again, now somehow menacingly. He said it softly, but clearly:
— To state this, you need arguments.
— It is human nature to break laws, try to steal something, plot, swear.
— Don't you believe in people?
—Well, well… Well, yes.
Igor Alekseevich sighed heavily:
— We had a different opinion about you. My advisers have proven to me that you are rooting for people, and from what I've read about you, that's true. But actually… I'm sorry we invited you. He made a movement to get up, but did not get up, but asked, looking into my eyes with one eye and into my temple with the other: "Do you think that a person is inherently vicious?" That he's already being born a thief, a brawler?
"Well, not all of them. Not all of them, of course... — It's been a long time since I've argued with anyone about these topics; arguments about a person remained somewhere in my youth, on the threshold of adulthood, and then it became too much for that, and now, having had the opportunity to speak out, I got carried away. — There is a predisposition, heredity. And, in fact, you can see the child already at the age of three... you can see what he will be like. And if a child steals, fights, and behaves badly at the age of three, then there is nothing to reform him.…
"But this is fascism,— Igor Alekseevich interrupted. — Are you a fascist?
I shuddered, I felt like I was filled with rage. But he responded outwardly calmly:
"Why are you insulting me?"
— No, I'm not insulting, I'm stating it. There are Democrats, there are monarchists, there are fascists… If you're ready to cull people at the age of three, what do you call it?
— I'm not rejecting. I take people with flaws, even villains, for granted. Besides," the rage subsided, I wanted to keep talking, to say something that I wouldn't tell people I knew, "besides, I need such people.
"For what purpose?"
— And who should I write about if they disappear? Literature exists based on what describes human vices.
The businessman laughed mirthlessly.:
- great! And we didn't take that into account!.. Well," he said seriously, cutting off his laughter, "I'm ready to pay a hundred thousand dollars, but I can't find those who would formulate a code or create a complex. What is it that happens to people?
One hundred thousand dollars brought me back from the chatter to a dysfunctional reality. Dysfunctional for me and my family… One hundred thousand dollars is about three lemon rubles. As the most monetary literary award in Russia, which I do not get…
— What exactly should be done? - I asked.
— To justify why a person should be honest, act fairly, think about others, and do their job well. Igor Alekseevich took one of the thick books. — Here is the "Life Convention". It includes sections on "Impeccable Community," "Virtuous Participation," and "Inner Harmony."…
The devil made me blurt it out:
— You see, you have everything.
— There is nothing yet! — the businessman shouted and opened the book, leafed through — several hundred pages were empty; seeing my puzzled look, he explained: — There is architecture, but there is no content yet. It is to be created…
I imagined myself sitting over this book and filling the white pages with intelligent, flawlessly intelligent and absolutely correct thoughts. I am creating a rationale for an ideal community, after reading which millions of individuals will merge into this community.… Inner harmony…
I felt sick. Either from the enormity of the work, or from the severity of it. Sometimes you carry a bag that's too heavy, and it starts to make you feel sick.… So it is now.
"But," I remembered, "there is the New Testament, dozens of teachings that already tell you how to become right.
— Are you talking about religion? No, this is not our way. Any religious movement is inherently aggressive, and Jesus Christ is actually a very violent man. He did not tolerate compromises. He called for the destruction of families if one of the members does not follow him.… We don't want that.
— I'm sorry, but it's impossible for all people to join your complex... the convention, that is…
— And we believe that it is possible. However, you and I have gone around the second circle.… Well, it's a pity that you don't believe in our cause. Unfortunately, we were mistaken about you. — And Igor Alekseevich wanted to get up again.
"I wish you success in your business," I said with a grin, realizing that the conversation was over.
The businessman jerked his head.
— Don't do this to us. There was a threat in the voice.
"What do you mean?"
— Don't be ironic. Very serious guys have gathered here.
— What an irony…
— That's it, I won't keep you any longer.
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»
