To the 1960 year, they rallied behind a physically strong and outrageous scoundrel nicknamed Balda, twenty five years old. Thanks to my constant escaping to the taiga, a habit to persecute me didn't be formed among the local scoundrels, except that they considered me like a strange and laughable person. However, this type payed special attention to me. Maybe the same devil pointed him at me, but as it seemed me, he himself couldn't give an articulate explanation of his actions, even under torture, why he needed so much to destroy me.
He had connections with turnkeys in the surrounding prison camps, also with local cops and with the patrolman. Despite the fact that he not only looked like a retard, but he was like that in fact, however, this didn't preclude his ability to flatter those who one may get a protection from, but to humiliate and subjugate the rest of the inhabitants.
Balda had a sidekick nicknamed Black. He was nicknamed so for the color of his hair. Balda was a blond. Balda it was a nickname of the village, but Black was a nickname of the prison camp. He was ten years older than Balda and already was in the prison camp a few times. To say about his ability to fight, he was a little weaker than Balda, but it was compensated by his influence in prisons, in spite of the fact that still he wasn't a thief in law, but only a "muzhik". It was the most probably, because one day he was suspected as if he could be a rat, that is as if he had stolen something from his sidekicks in prison camp. Unlike Balda, Black despised the cops and in the best case he pretended as if he wouldn't note them. It couldn't be by another way. The difference between them in many respects gradually turned them from friends into rivals, from rivals into secret enemies, from secret enemies into explicit ones. The power struggle between them may compared with Shakespeare's tragedies by the intensity if subtract from them all remainders of the nobleness. The local inhabitants much suffered because of them, not only because of their fists. It would be a long time to tell, a few of persons became crippled, a few of other persons spoiled their lives in other ways, in the main because of the imprisonment. There were cases of the family destruction, of the disappointments in life and even one suicide.
Balda's father, my peer, was an NKVD's snitch in Stalin's epoch. It's probable, his son stayed unchallenged for his tricks many times, thanks to memory about father's past connections. And he also had one passion: to save up money. The result of this circumstance was so, while Black spent on drink all what he had stolen, Balda spent on drink a part of the stolen things too, but another part was hidden in the chest or spent to get dressed better. Because of their stupidity Balda and his father didn't keep the savings account. Their stupidity was in the fact that they were sure as if nobody from local would dare to do something against them, even Black. Black, understanding if something occurs, he would be the first suspected, because of his dubious honour, even when he was a Balda's friend, so he tried to keep out of Balda's home. It's quite possible, being afraid, he cherished a seductive idea, but didn't dare. Also, this would be a foolish, because as well as I know his character, he couldn't spend money secretly and it's unlikely he would find an application of money, excluding to spend it on drinking.
The relationship between Balda and Black looked like a mature abscess, which was about to erupt. Not only myself, but also other inhabitants of the village anticipated that something is going to occur. I decided to speed up the course of events, to incite these scoundrels, each against another, and at the same time to get some benefit for myself. The money from selling house already ran out long ago, and I lived by accidental earnings. Before that I never stole, however, I didn't consider stealing from scoundrels like a shame thing. Such a character like Robin Hood was very much cute to me, long ago I played this role in the theatre.
In May 1960, using last money, I had rented a dacha near Moscow in Kratovo. You understand, no transport is needed if one can move in the twinkling of an eye from the Krasnoyarsk taiga, not far from that village, in Moscow or near it and back in the same manner. To undertake operation I had chosen the payday. Two weeks before I showed to all as if I left relatively for a long time, a few of months.
Before this, I started to dump bottles with the vodka to Balda. In the first time they were afraid, whether is it poisoned. They had sipped, then ran into the shop to buy one, then they ran for the second bottle, after this they had drunk the mine to the end. When I dumped a bottle them in the third time, they had lost their vigilance. But to get drunk Black in the necessary place and time was even easier, because he disdained this concept of the caution.
That day, using such way of dumping of the bottles, from the morning I started to lead them both to the necessary condition. As well as you know, the distances don't exist for me. Until six o'clock in the evening, while in Moscow only two o'clock in the afternoon, Balda and his father were drunk with loss of consciousness. Even they didn't try to put in different places their large sum of money. The banknotes were kept so: together in the chest among old things, being wrapped up in a newspaper. However, in any case I would find them. Near the do I as if accidentally dropped on the floor Black's union card prepared in advance, which was kept since his workstation, where he was fired for the drunkenness, also there was a letter from his cousin who lives in Krasnoyarsk.
-What a fucken bitch there without permission! - drunk Balda's voice had sounded. - I'll kill you! - after saying this he rushed into the corridor, where I was standing.
I rushed in a closet, a door, which gave on the corridor, but from another side. Thank God, there was a bolt, to which I locked myself at once, however, he saw and recognized me.
-Could not you disappear as soon as he had begun to move into his room, could you?
-I said already, that time this ability still wasn't developed with automatism. I had to prepare and to turn my mind to this, to imagine very clear the place, where I was going to move to, however, if a big and a furious guy with his fists rushed to me, it would be not easy to concentrate on something quite fast. Then I succeeded to collect my thoughts and to do a throw. Have you thought that in Moscow? No, at Black's home.
Black slept on the floor. Near him a bottle with some moonshine stood not being drunk until the end. I put into a pocket of the jacket, which he wore all the time, bundle of huge hundred-ruble banknotes with Lenin. After this I unscrewed the clamp, which the hook clasped for. This hook locked the door from the inside. Suddenly it dawned upon me. I remembered that sometimes I was in the garret of Balda's house. It would be difficult to invent a place better to collect information. Of course, I penetrated there always, using the same unusual way. Imagining clearly this place, I had appeared there.
-...meaner than death, I saw him as well as I see you now! He is in concert with Black! His nickname is an Artist. He with the thieves in law kept company in the prison camp. They don't steal from their dudes not to be considered as rats. But we are dupes from their point of view. I'll break ribs them!
-Ah, fool. Do you think that I don't feel sorry? I gained it during all my life. I see you want to fritter. But I have connections with the militia. They will beat them both so, as you can't. And they will return all the money, like sweet boys. And this Artist is not our person at all. He was seen in the taiga. He sat like dead on the grass, crossing his legs like a Turk. He will be imprisoned and will not return alive, but instead, you are going to get your hands dirty.
-You still live like in the 1937. Who will imprison him? The bald pederast - Khrushchev - bastard. He has relaxed all of them. And Black in prison feels like at home. For him all the same! But I'll do so, he will be spitting blood. I'll give him such cunts! I'll give him such cunts! Two times will be quite! Two times will be quite!
-Don't go, fool, - cried his father with a hoarse voice. Apparently, he hadn't the forces not only to stop his distraught child, but even to stand up from the bed.
I could hardly restrain my laughter. But the circumstances didn't give to watch this spectacle until the end. I concentrated and appeared in a known garret of an old six-story house. Nobody saw me. I quietly descended the stairs, came out in the yard, got around the house. There was a savings bank situated in the facade. I saw this bank long ago. The lunch break already was finished. After standing in line about a half hour, I opened an account, putting almost all the money for a deposit.
Now I had the iron alibi. That's natural, in the account the date was written that amply proved the impossibility of my appearance on the same day so far, that is in the Krasnoyarsk region. However, it seemed me insufficient. Balda saw me. But who would believe him? What a way by in his very much distant house could be the same man who at the same time was opening an account in Moscow saving bank? However...
The solving of the problem occurred to me immediately. In a shop of the same house I bought a bottle quarter litre of vodka in order all would look like natural. After fifteen minutes I was rolling by ream of the metro in a very cheerful mood. All the timidity flew away and I started to sing loudly a bawdy ditty:
I fell in love with Khrushchev,
I'll get married with him,
But I'm afraid instead this thing,
There is the only corn and nothing more.
Someone began to pull my sleeve, calling to order, but I started to dance and continued to sing loudly all sorts of the obscenities. Someone laughed out loudly, someone only smiled, shaking a head, barely holding back laughter.
-How an old man has got drunk!
-Shut up his mouth finally!
-Don't you see? The man is ill, mentally.
This finished so, a few men took me under arms, leading me to the militia, the same what I needed. They let me go in fifteen days. After this nobody could make to doubt in my alibi. I told by the homeowner, as if I got a telegram on demand and left for Sankt-Petersbourg to visit my sick sister. However, I made a good impression on this old woman who was an owner of the dacha. If she saw the concert I did in the underground, then as well as I guess, she would faint because of the surprise. But like a decent person, I continued to rest in the dacha, walked into the forest to pick mushrooms and on fine days to the beach to swim. I returned at home only in September by train.
-How ended that trouble? - Albert asked.
-This already the local old women told me. As well as I expected, Balda broke into Black's home and began to beat him. Black suddenly struck back, grabbed a knife, Balda started to run. Black succeeded one time to scratch him, but a little. Balda grabbed the first thing, what fell in the yard in his hand, it was a bayonet shovel, and with it he hit Black's head. Black fell down. The fool had better to go away. But no. He hit Black who already was lying, at the second time. The second blow became fatal. Then he drank a lot of moonshine and the cops carried him into their auto, when he was drunk like a dead.
-Did they give him many years of prison?
-He affirmed as if he saw me, insisting so much, and because of this he was declared insane and after this he was sent in Kazan in the special hospital. Do you know, that there are such madhouses with armed guards?
-Yes, I do.
-Five years later he came out, but soon his father died. If he died a little before, Balda could stay on the eternal bed, that is for life. After his father's death, he was about to commit suicide. Then the baptists contacted him and since he had changed until unrecognizable. He became a believer, even very much active. He even tried to turn me into his faith. Finally, he had got married to one of the sisters in spirit. Now he is absolutely different person. However, it was the only case in my life when an enemy ceased to be an enemy, when a bad person got better. The only.
-Didn't you mistake, because you didn't go with him?
-For him this was a breakthrough to perfection. But for me this would be a step back.
-Why?
-Because I'm aware about the reality more than Balda knows. I trust in God. But I don't believe churches and other human crowds, and I have a reason for this. I cannot become a church believer. I can only pretend it, but it means to play the hypocrite, to deceive. It would be a greater sin. The verity is much more beautiful than foolish crowds imagine it.
-But maybe you sin more. What if consider the church like a restraining factor?
-Certainly, I'm far from being an angel. Maybe I'm more sinner than all this baptists and others. But there is the only thing I know exactly.
-What?
-I would be never in concert with the crowd, which had crucified Christ.
A long pause set in. Finally the old man has interrupted it:
-I've digressed from the main our subject, but it would be impossible to disregard it. I remember that you've understood the theory very well, but I've omitted something.
-They both fell to thinking and soon Albert remembered:
-You still didn't say about the technology of safety.
-That's right!
Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/10/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-8.html
The original Russian text of the chapters from 7 to 9: http://www.proza.ru/2010/01/10/679
He had connections with turnkeys in the surrounding prison camps, also with local cops and with the patrolman. Despite the fact that he not only looked like a retard, but he was like that in fact, however, this didn't preclude his ability to flatter those who one may get a protection from, but to humiliate and subjugate the rest of the inhabitants.
Balda had a sidekick nicknamed Black. He was nicknamed so for the color of his hair. Balda was a blond. Balda it was a nickname of the village, but Black was a nickname of the prison camp. He was ten years older than Balda and already was in the prison camp a few times. To say about his ability to fight, he was a little weaker than Balda, but it was compensated by his influence in prisons, in spite of the fact that still he wasn't a thief in law, but only a "muzhik". It was the most probably, because one day he was suspected as if he could be a rat, that is as if he had stolen something from his sidekicks in prison camp. Unlike Balda, Black despised the cops and in the best case he pretended as if he wouldn't note them. It couldn't be by another way. The difference between them in many respects gradually turned them from friends into rivals, from rivals into secret enemies, from secret enemies into explicit ones. The power struggle between them may compared with Shakespeare's tragedies by the intensity if subtract from them all remainders of the nobleness. The local inhabitants much suffered because of them, not only because of their fists. It would be a long time to tell, a few of persons became crippled, a few of other persons spoiled their lives in other ways, in the main because of the imprisonment. There were cases of the family destruction, of the disappointments in life and even one suicide.
Balda's father, my peer, was an NKVD's snitch in Stalin's epoch. It's probable, his son stayed unchallenged for his tricks many times, thanks to memory about father's past connections. And he also had one passion: to save up money. The result of this circumstance was so, while Black spent on drink all what he had stolen, Balda spent on drink a part of the stolen things too, but another part was hidden in the chest or spent to get dressed better. Because of their stupidity Balda and his father didn't keep the savings account. Their stupidity was in the fact that they were sure as if nobody from local would dare to do something against them, even Black. Black, understanding if something occurs, he would be the first suspected, because of his dubious honour, even when he was a Balda's friend, so he tried to keep out of Balda's home. It's quite possible, being afraid, he cherished a seductive idea, but didn't dare. Also, this would be a foolish, because as well as I know his character, he couldn't spend money secretly and it's unlikely he would find an application of money, excluding to spend it on drinking.
The relationship between Balda and Black looked like a mature abscess, which was about to erupt. Not only myself, but also other inhabitants of the village anticipated that something is going to occur. I decided to speed up the course of events, to incite these scoundrels, each against another, and at the same time to get some benefit for myself. The money from selling house already ran out long ago, and I lived by accidental earnings. Before that I never stole, however, I didn't consider stealing from scoundrels like a shame thing. Such a character like Robin Hood was very much cute to me, long ago I played this role in the theatre.
In May 1960, using last money, I had rented a dacha near Moscow in Kratovo. You understand, no transport is needed if one can move in the twinkling of an eye from the Krasnoyarsk taiga, not far from that village, in Moscow or near it and back in the same manner. To undertake operation I had chosen the payday. Two weeks before I showed to all as if I left relatively for a long time, a few of months.
Before this, I started to dump bottles with the vodka to Balda. In the first time they were afraid, whether is it poisoned. They had sipped, then ran into the shop to buy one, then they ran for the second bottle, after this they had drunk the mine to the end. When I dumped a bottle them in the third time, they had lost their vigilance. But to get drunk Black in the necessary place and time was even easier, because he disdained this concept of the caution.
That day, using such way of dumping of the bottles, from the morning I started to lead them both to the necessary condition. As well as you know, the distances don't exist for me. Until six o'clock in the evening, while in Moscow only two o'clock in the afternoon, Balda and his father were drunk with loss of consciousness. Even they didn't try to put in different places their large sum of money. The banknotes were kept so: together in the chest among old things, being wrapped up in a newspaper. However, in any case I would find them. Near the do I as if accidentally dropped on the floor Black's union card prepared in advance, which was kept since his workstation, where he was fired for the drunkenness, also there was a letter from his cousin who lives in Krasnoyarsk.
-What a fucken bitch there without permission! - drunk Balda's voice had sounded. - I'll kill you! - after saying this he rushed into the corridor, where I was standing.
I rushed in a closet, a door, which gave on the corridor, but from another side. Thank God, there was a bolt, to which I locked myself at once, however, he saw and recognized me.
-Could not you disappear as soon as he had begun to move into his room, could you?
-I said already, that time this ability still wasn't developed with automatism. I had to prepare and to turn my mind to this, to imagine very clear the place, where I was going to move to, however, if a big and a furious guy with his fists rushed to me, it would be not easy to concentrate on something quite fast. Then I succeeded to collect my thoughts and to do a throw. Have you thought that in Moscow? No, at Black's home.
Black slept on the floor. Near him a bottle with some moonshine stood not being drunk until the end. I put into a pocket of the jacket, which he wore all the time, bundle of huge hundred-ruble banknotes with Lenin. After this I unscrewed the clamp, which the hook clasped for. This hook locked the door from the inside. Suddenly it dawned upon me. I remembered that sometimes I was in the garret of Balda's house. It would be difficult to invent a place better to collect information. Of course, I penetrated there always, using the same unusual way. Imagining clearly this place, I had appeared there.
-...meaner than death, I saw him as well as I see you now! He is in concert with Black! His nickname is an Artist. He with the thieves in law kept company in the prison camp. They don't steal from their dudes not to be considered as rats. But we are dupes from their point of view. I'll break ribs them!
-Ah, fool. Do you think that I don't feel sorry? I gained it during all my life. I see you want to fritter. But I have connections with the militia. They will beat them both so, as you can't. And they will return all the money, like sweet boys. And this Artist is not our person at all. He was seen in the taiga. He sat like dead on the grass, crossing his legs like a Turk. He will be imprisoned and will not return alive, but instead, you are going to get your hands dirty.
-You still live like in the 1937. Who will imprison him? The bald pederast - Khrushchev - bastard. He has relaxed all of them. And Black in prison feels like at home. For him all the same! But I'll do so, he will be spitting blood. I'll give him such cunts! I'll give him such cunts! Two times will be quite! Two times will be quite!
-Don't go, fool, - cried his father with a hoarse voice. Apparently, he hadn't the forces not only to stop his distraught child, but even to stand up from the bed.
I could hardly restrain my laughter. But the circumstances didn't give to watch this spectacle until the end. I concentrated and appeared in a known garret of an old six-story house. Nobody saw me. I quietly descended the stairs, came out in the yard, got around the house. There was a savings bank situated in the facade. I saw this bank long ago. The lunch break already was finished. After standing in line about a half hour, I opened an account, putting almost all the money for a deposit.
Now I had the iron alibi. That's natural, in the account the date was written that amply proved the impossibility of my appearance on the same day so far, that is in the Krasnoyarsk region. However, it seemed me insufficient. Balda saw me. But who would believe him? What a way by in his very much distant house could be the same man who at the same time was opening an account in Moscow saving bank? However...
The solving of the problem occurred to me immediately. In a shop of the same house I bought a bottle quarter litre of vodka in order all would look like natural. After fifteen minutes I was rolling by ream of the metro in a very cheerful mood. All the timidity flew away and I started to sing loudly a bawdy ditty:
I fell in love with Khrushchev,
I'll get married with him,
But I'm afraid instead this thing,
There is the only corn and nothing more.
Someone began to pull my sleeve, calling to order, but I started to dance and continued to sing loudly all sorts of the obscenities. Someone laughed out loudly, someone only smiled, shaking a head, barely holding back laughter.
-How an old man has got drunk!
-Shut up his mouth finally!
-Don't you see? The man is ill, mentally.
This finished so, a few men took me under arms, leading me to the militia, the same what I needed. They let me go in fifteen days. After this nobody could make to doubt in my alibi. I told by the homeowner, as if I got a telegram on demand and left for Sankt-Petersbourg to visit my sick sister. However, I made a good impression on this old woman who was an owner of the dacha. If she saw the concert I did in the underground, then as well as I guess, she would faint because of the surprise. But like a decent person, I continued to rest in the dacha, walked into the forest to pick mushrooms and on fine days to the beach to swim. I returned at home only in September by train.
-How ended that trouble? - Albert asked.
-This already the local old women told me. As well as I expected, Balda broke into Black's home and began to beat him. Black suddenly struck back, grabbed a knife, Balda started to run. Black succeeded one time to scratch him, but a little. Balda grabbed the first thing, what fell in the yard in his hand, it was a bayonet shovel, and with it he hit Black's head. Black fell down. The fool had better to go away. But no. He hit Black who already was lying, at the second time. The second blow became fatal. Then he drank a lot of moonshine and the cops carried him into their auto, when he was drunk like a dead.
-Did they give him many years of prison?
-He affirmed as if he saw me, insisting so much, and because of this he was declared insane and after this he was sent in Kazan in the special hospital. Do you know, that there are such madhouses with armed guards?
-Yes, I do.
-Five years later he came out, but soon his father died. If he died a little before, Balda could stay on the eternal bed, that is for life. After his father's death, he was about to commit suicide. Then the baptists contacted him and since he had changed until unrecognizable. He became a believer, even very much active. He even tried to turn me into his faith. Finally, he had got married to one of the sisters in spirit. Now he is absolutely different person. However, it was the only case in my life when an enemy ceased to be an enemy, when a bad person got better. The only.
-Didn't you mistake, because you didn't go with him?
-For him this was a breakthrough to perfection. But for me this would be a step back.
-Why?
-Because I'm aware about the reality more than Balda knows. I trust in God. But I don't believe churches and other human crowds, and I have a reason for this. I cannot become a church believer. I can only pretend it, but it means to play the hypocrite, to deceive. It would be a greater sin. The verity is much more beautiful than foolish crowds imagine it.
-But maybe you sin more. What if consider the church like a restraining factor?
-Certainly, I'm far from being an angel. Maybe I'm more sinner than all this baptists and others. But there is the only thing I know exactly.
-What?
-I would be never in concert with the crowd, which had crucified Christ.
A long pause set in. Finally the old man has interrupted it:
-I've digressed from the main our subject, but it would be impossible to disregard it. I remember that you've understood the theory very well, but I've omitted something.
-They both fell to thinking and soon Albert remembered:
-You still didn't say about the technology of safety.
-That's right!
Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/10/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-8.html
The original Russian text of the chapters from 7 to 9: http://www.proza.ru/2010/01/10/679
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