The call rang when Andrei Petrovich lost all hope.

Hello, I'm on the ad. Did you give literature lessons?

Andrei Petrovich looked into the video font screen. Man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiles, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich had a heart, he walked the announcement only in a habit. During ten years there were six calls. Three was mistaken by the number, two more people turned out to be working as insurance agents, and one attained literature with ligature.

Dr. Lessons, - Salmon from excitement, said Andrei Petrovich. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?

"Interested in," the interlocutor nodded. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.

"Task!" - Almost broke out from Andrei Petrovich.

Payment hourly, - forced himself to speak. - by agreement. Would you like to start?

I, actually ... - The interlocutor jammed.

Let's give tomorrow, "Maxim said resolutely. - At ten in the morning you will suit you? To nine, I take the children to school, and then free to two.

It will arrange, "Andrei Petrovich was delighted. - Record the address.

Speak, I will remember.

On this night, Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked along a tiny room, almost the cell, not knowing where to give the hands shaking from the experiences. For the twelve years now he lived on a benchbook. From the very day, as he was fired.

You are too narrow specialist, "said the hiding eye, director of the lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here is your subject, alas. Tell me, you do not want to vote? The cost of learning lyceum could be partially paid. Virtual ethics, basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could well teach it. Even the cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, is not long left, but on your age ... how do you think?

Andrei Petrovich refused, he was still sorry. It was not possible to find a new job, the literature remained in a matter of tutorials, the last libraries were closed, philologists one after another retrained who in what is much. A couple of years he was up to the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then stopped. Washed half a year in retraining courses. When the wife was gone, threw them.

Savings ended quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten the belt. Then sell aeromobile, old but reliable. Antique service, remaining from Mom, for him things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich Mutilo every time he recalled this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper, also from mom. For rarities, collectors gave good money, so the colon's graph fed a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.

As a result, Andrei Petrovich remained fifty books - the most beloved, re-read up to the ten times, those with which could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a shelf, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich washed daily from the roots dust.

"If this guy, Maxim, was randomly thought Andrei Petrovich, nervously taking off the wall to the wall," if he ... then, perhaps, will be able to buy back Balmont. " Or Murakami. Or Amanda. "

Void, I understood Andrei Petrovich suddenly. It does not matter whether to buy off. He can convey, here it is, that's the only important thing. Transfer to! Transfer to others what knows what he has.

Maxim called the door exactly ten, minute per minute.

Go around, "Andrei Petrovich drove. - Sit down. Here, actually ... What would you like to start?

Maxim was blocked, carefully sat down on the edge of the chair.

Why do you consider fit. You see, I'm a profan. Full. I did not teach anything.

Yes, yes, naturally, "Andrei Petrovich snapped. - Like all others. In secondary schools, literature does not teach almost a hundred years. And now they are no longer taught in special.

Anywhere? - asked Maxim quietly.

I'm afraid that nowhere. You see, at the end of the twentieth century, the crisis began. Read has ever. First children, then the children matured, and read it was once of their children. Even more no time than parents. There were other pleasures - mostly virtual. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrei Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, and of course, the technique. Technical disciplines began to outpire humanitarian. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energies physics. And literature, history, geography went to the background. Especially literature. Do you watch Maxim?

Yes, please, please.

Twenty-first century stopped printing books, the paper changed the electronics. But in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they did not quite - people stopped writing. Philologists lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of the twenty-early centuries written.

Andrei Petrovich fell silent, morning hand sweating suddenly forehead.

It is not easy for me to talk about it, "he finally said. - I realize that the proceeding process. Literature died because he did not get along with progress. But here are children, you understand ... Children! Literature was the fact that the minds were formed. Especially poetry. By defined the inner world of man, his spirituality. Children grow upside down, that's what is scary, that's what is terrible, Maxim!

I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that is why he turned to you.

Do you have children?

Yes, - Maxim jumped. - Two. Pavlik and Anya, weather. Andrei Petrovich, I only need Ase. I will find literature on the network, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to do focus. You learn me?

Yes, "said Andrei Petrovich firmly. - Scientific.

He rose, crossed his arms on his chest, focused.

Pasternak, "he said solemnly. - Melo, Melo throughout the Earth, in all limits. Candle burned on the table, candle burned ...

Do you come tomorrow, Maxim? "Trying to take a trembling in his voice, Andrei Petrovich asked.

Certainly. Only here ... You know, I have been working as a wealthy couple. I am conducting the farm, affairs, slaughtering bills. I have a low salary. But I, - Maxim wrapped the room with his eyes, "I can bring products." Some things perhaps everyday technique. In the expense of payment. Will you arrange?

Andrei Petrovich unwittingly blushed. It would be arranged and the task.

Of course, Maxim, "he said. - Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow.

Literature is not only written about what is written, "said Andrei Petrovich, causing around the room. - It is also written. Language, Maxim, the same tool that enjoyed great writers and poets. Listen to.

Maxim listened to Maxim. It seemed that he tries to remember, to learn the speech of the teacher by heart.

Pushkin, "Andrei Petrovich said and began to decleand.

Tavrida, Anchar, Evgeny Onegin.

Lermontov "MTSYRY".

Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Block, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...

Maxim listened.

Not tired? - asked Andrei Petrovich.

No, no, what are you. Please continue.

The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich joined, awakened to life in which the meaning unexpectedly appeared. Poetry changed the prose, it was much larger at her time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. She grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich did not stop wondering how Maxim, at first, deaf to the Word, not perceiving, which did not feel the harmony nested into the tongue, he fasted it every day and knew it better, deeper than in the previous one.

Balzac, Hugo, Maupassan, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kubrin.

Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remark, Marquez, Nabokov.

The eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.

Classic, fiction, fantasy, detective.

Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Shekley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Zaprizo.

Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich was still awesome in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. Could not, whispered inner voice, tinnitus and peeping. Skrupulate Pedantic Maxim could not. He never late for a minute for a minute. And here did not even call. In the evening, Andrei Petrovich no longer found a place, and at night I did not climbed the eye. By ten in the morning he was finally survealed, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, wandered to the video.

The room is disabled from the service, the mechanical voice told.

The next few days passed as one bad dream. Even the favorite books were not saved from acute longing and the newly emerged feelings of their own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich was not remembered about. Call hospitals, morgue, obsessively buzzed in the temple. And what to ask? Or about com? Whether a certain Maxim did not flow, thirty years old, sorry, I don't know the last name?

Andrei Petrovich got out of the house to the outside, when there was more non-dirt in four walls.

A, Petrovich! - welcomed the old man of the oil, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. And what you do not go, you shame, or what? So you seem to do with nothing.

What sense I am ashamed? - Overwheel Andrei Petrovich.

Well, that this, yours, - Nefs held the edge of his palm on the throat. - Who walked to you. I did everything that Petrovich in old age has contacted this audience.

What are you talking about? - Andrei Petrovich has frowning inside. - With what public?

It is known with what. I immediately see these doves. Thirty years, consider, worked with them.

With whom with them? - Andrei Petrovich cheated. - What are you talking about?

Do you really do not know? - rumbled in oil. - News Look, about it everywhere True.

Andrei Petrovich did not remember how to get to the elevator. I climbed the fourteenth, shaking hands swayed in my pocket the key. From the fifth attempt, he took away, squeezed to the computer, connected to the network, britched the news feed. The heart suddenly went on pain. From the photo I watched Maxim, the lines of the cursive under the picture broke before their eyes.

"Stretched by the owners, - with difficulty focusing his eyesight, read Andrei Petrovich from the screen - in the embezzlement of food, clothing and home appliances. Home robot governor, series DRG-439K. Defect management program. He stated that he had independently came to the conclusion about childhood confusion, with which he decided to fight. Self-adequately trained children objects outside the school program. From the owners hid his activity. Separated from the appeal ... on the fact it is recycled ... The public is concerned about the manifestation ... the issuing firm is ready to incur ... Specially created committee ruled ... ".

Andrei Petrovich rose. On stiff legs, swallowed in the kitchen. He opened a buffet, on the bottom shelf stood brought by Maxim in the expense of payment for the training of a pouring bottle of brandy. Andrei Petrovich ripped the plug, looked around in search of a glass. I did not find and rushed out of the throat. I coughed, dropping the bottle, recoiled to the wall. The knees were lifted, Andrei Petrovich fell hard on the floor.

The cat under the tail, came the final thought. All cat under the tail. All this time he taught a robot.

Suitless, defective piece of iron. Invested everything in it that is. Everything for what is just worth living. Everything for what he lived.

Andrei Petrovich, overgrowing the pain graspted behind the heart, rose. He dragged to the window, tightly wrapped Framuhu. Now gas stove. Open the burners and half an hour wait. And that's it.

Call on the door found it halfway to the stove. Andrei Petrovich, grieving his teeth, moved to open. On the threshold stood two children. The boy is ten years old. And the girl for the year or the younger.

Did you give literature lessons? - Looking from under the falling chalki, asked the girl.

What? - Andrei Petrovich hesitated. - Who are you?

I am Pavlik, "the boy took a step forward. - This is Anya, my sister. We are from Max.

From ... From whom?!

From Max, "the boy repeated stubbornly. - He ordered to convey. Before him ... like his ...

Melo, chalk all over the land in all limits! - Suddenly the girl shouted the girl.

Andrei Petrovich grabbed his heart, convulsively swallowed, stuffed, shook him back into the chest.

Are you kidding? "It's quietly, he said hardly."

The candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning, - firmly pronounced boy. "It he ordered to convey, Max." Will you learn us?

Andrei Petrovich, clinging to the door jamb, stepped back.

My God, "he said. - Come in. Come in, children.

Story about our future without books and love for reading

Tell me, what book did you read recently? And when was it? We have no time to read, have no time to think, there is no time to give will to your imagination, there is no time to enjoy the language, a syllable, history. All postpone and postpone. And what if you try to imagine what will happen when the turmozhny rhythm of life and progress will lead to the fact that literature will cease to be needed, willing and will remain only in the hearts of devotees of old-fashioned people?

Mike Gelprin wrote the story of the "Candle of Grown", which described a similar situation. Read it, please, and in the evening, after work, go to the book rack, choose something interesting and read.

***

The call rang when Andrei Petrovich lost all hope.

- Hello, I ad. Did you give literature lessons?

Andrei Petrovich looked into the video font screen. Man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiles, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich was shined under his heart, he put an ad on the network only in habit. During ten years there were six calls. Three was mistaken by the number, two more people turned out to be working as insurance agents, and one attained literature with ligature.

"Dmu lessons," squeezed from excitement, Andrei Petrovich said. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?

"Interested in," the interlocutor nodded. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.

"Task!" - Almost broke out from Andrei Petrovich.

"Payment hourly," he made himself. - by agreement. Would you like to start?

- I, Actually ... - The interlocutor jammed.

"The first lesson is free," Andrei Petrovich Hassed himself. - If you do not like it, then ...

"Let's tomorrow," Maxim said resolutely. - At ten in the morning you will suit you? To nine, I take the children to school, and then free to two.

"It satisfies," Andrei Petrovich was delighted. - Record the address.

- Speak, I will remember.

On this night, Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked along a tiny room, almost the cell, not knowing where to give the hands shaking from the experiences. For the twelve years now he lived on a benchbook. From the very day, as he was fired.

"You are too narrow specialist," said her hiding eye, director of lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here is your subject, alas. Tell me, you do not want to vote? The cost of learning lyceum could be partially paid. Virtual ethics, basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could well teach it. Even the cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, is not long left, but on your age ... how do you think?

Andrei Petrovich refused, he was still sorry. It was not possible to find a new job, the literature remained in a matter of tutorials, the last libraries were closed, philologists one after another retrained who in what is much. A couple of years he was up to the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then stopped. Washed half a year in retraining courses. When the wife was gone, threw them.

Savings ended quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten the belt. Then sell aeromobile, old but reliable. Antique service, remaining from Mom, for him things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich Mutilo every time he recalled this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper, also from mom. For rarities, collectors gave good money, so the colon's graph fed a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.

As a result, Andrei Petrovich remained fifty books - the most beloved, re-read up to the ten times, those with which could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a shelf, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich washed daily from the roots dust.

"If this guy, Maxim, was randomly thought Andrei Petrovich, nervously taking off the wall to the wall," if he ... then, perhaps, will be able to buy back Balmont. " Or Murakami. Or Amanda. "

Void, I understood Andrei Petrovich suddenly. It does not matter whether to buy off. He can convey, here it is, that's the only important thing. Transfer to! Transfer to others what knows what he has.

Maxim called the door exactly ten, minute per minute.

"Go around," Andrei Petrovich drove. - Sit down. Here, actually ... What would you like to start?

Maxim was blocked, carefully sat down on the edge of the chair.

- Why do you consider it necessary. You see, I'm a profan. Full. I did not teach anything.

- Yes, yes, naturally, Andrei Petrovich snapped. - Like all others. In secondary schools, literature does not teach almost a hundred years. And now they are no longer taught in special.

- Nowhere? - asked Maxim quietly.

- I'm afraid that nowhere else. You see, at the end of the twentieth century, the crisis began. Read has ever. First children, then the children matured, and read it was once of their children. Even more no time than parents. There were other pleasures - mostly virtual. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrei Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, and of course, the technique. Technical disciplines began to outpire humanitarian. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energies physics. And literature, history, geography went to the background. Especially literature. Do you watch Maxim?

- Yes, please continue.

- In the twenty-first century they stopped printing books, the electronics changed the paper. But in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they did not quite - people stopped writing. Philologists lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of the twenty-early centuries written.

Andrei Petrovich fell silent, morning hand sweating suddenly forehead.

"It's not easy for me to talk about it," he finally said. - I realize that the proceeding process. Literature died because he did not get along with progress. But here are children, you understand ... Children! Literature was the fact that the minds were formed. Especially poetry. By defined the inner world of man, his spirituality. Children grow upside down, that's what is scary, that's what is terrible, Maxim!

- I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that is why he turned to you.

- Do you have children?

"Yes," Maxim jumped. - Two. Pavlik and Anya, weather. Andrei Petrovich, I only need Ase. I will find literature on the network, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to do focus. You learn me?

"Yes," said Andrei Petrovich firmly. - Scientific.

He rose, crossed his arms on his chest, focused.

"Pasternak," he said solemnly. - Melo, Melo throughout the Earth, in all limits. Candle burned on the table, candle burned ...

- Will you come tomorrow, Maxim? "Trying to take a trembling in his voice, Andrei Petrovich asked.

- certainly. Only here ... You know, I have been working as a wealthy couple. I am conducting the farm, affairs, slaughtering bills. I have a low salary. But I, - Maxim wrapped the room with his eyes, "I can bring products." Some things perhaps everyday technique. In the expense of payment. Will you arrange?

Andrei Petrovich unwittingly blushed. It would be arranged and the task.

"Of course, Maxim," he said. - Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow.

- Literature - this is not only written about what - said Andrei Petrovich, having taught the room. - It is also written. Language, Maxim, the same tool that enjoyed great writers and poets. Listen to.

Maxim listened to Maxim. It seemed that he tries to remember, to learn the speech of the teacher by heart.

"Pushkin," Andrei Petrovich said and began to reclaim.

Tavrida, Anchar, Evgeny Onegin.

Lermontov "MTSYRY".

Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Block, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...

Maxim listened.

- Not tired? - asked Andrei Petrovich.

- No, no, what are you. Please continue.

The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich joined, awakened to life in which the meaning unexpectedly appeared. Poetry changed the prose, it was much larger at her time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. She grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich did not stop wondering how Maxim, at first, deaf to the Word, not perceiving, which did not feel the harmony nested into the tongue, he fasted it every day and knew it better, deeper than in the previous one.

Balzac, Hugo, Maupassan, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kubrin.

Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remark, Marquez, Nabokov.

The eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.

Classic, fiction, fantasy, detective.

Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Shekley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Zaprizo.

Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich was still awesome in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. Could not, whispered inner voice, tinnitus and peeping. Skrupulate Pedantic Maxim could not. He never late for a minute for a minute. And here did not even call. In the evening, Andrei Petrovich no longer found a place, and at night I did not climbed the eye. By ten in the morning he was finally survealed, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, wandered to the video.

- The room is disabled from the service, "the mechanical voice told.

The next few days passed as one bad dream. Even the favorite books were not saved from acute longing and the newly emerged feelings of their own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich was not remembered about. Call hospitals, morgue, obsessively buzzed in the temple. And what to ask? Or about com? Whether a certain Maxim did not flow, thirty years old, sorry, I don't know the last name?

Andrei Petrovich got out of the house to the outside, when there was more non-dirt in four walls.

- A, Petrovich! - welcomed the old man of the oil, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. And what you do not go, you shame, or what? So you seem to do with nothing.

- What sense is going? - Overwheel Andrei Petrovich.

"Well, that this, yours," the nebids held the edge of his palm on the throat. - Who walked to you. I did everything that Petrovich in old age has contacted this audience.

- What are you about? - Andrei Petrovich has frowning inside. - With what public?

- It is known with what. I immediately see these doves. Thirty years, consider, worked with them.

- with whom with them? - Andrei Petrovich cheated. - What are you talking about?

"You really don't know?" - rumbled in oil. - News Look, about it everywhere True.

Andrei Petrovich did not remember how to get to the elevator. I climbed the fourteenth, shaking hands swayed in my pocket the key. From the fifth attempt, he took away, squeezed to the computer, connected to the network, britched the news feed. The heart suddenly went on pain. From the photo I watched Maxim, the lines of the cursive under the picture broke before their eyes.

"Stretched by the owners, - with difficulty focusing his eyesight, read Andrei Petrovich from the screen - in the embezzlement of food, clothing and home appliances. Home robot governor, series DRG-439K. Defect management program. He stated that he had independently came to the conclusion about childhood confusion, with which he decided to fight. Self-adequately trained children objects outside the school program. From the owners hid his activity. They are removed from the appeal ... in fact, it is disposed of .... the public is concerned about the manifestation ... the issuing firm is ready to incur ... Specially created committee ruled ... ".

Andrei Petrovich rose. On stiff legs, swallowed in the kitchen. He opened a buffet, on the bottom shelf stood brought by Maxim in the expense of payment for the training of a pouring bottle of brandy. Andrei Petrovich ripped the plug, looked around in search of a glass. I did not find and rushed out of the throat. I coughed, dropping the bottle, recoiled to the wall. The knees were lifted, Andrei Petrovich fell hard on the floor.

The cat under the tail, came the final thought. All cat under the tail. All this time he taught a robot.

Suitless, defective piece of iron. Invested everything in it that is. Everything for what is just worth living. Everything for what he lived.

Andrei Petrovich, overgrowing the pain graspted behind the heart, rose. He dragged to the window, tightly wrapped Framuhu. Now gas stove. Open the burners and half an hour wait. And that's it.

Book regiment for passing the exam in Russian

Dear applicants!

After analyzing your questions and writings, I conclude that the most difficult for you is the selection of arguments from literary works. The reason is that you read little. I will not say extra words in the edification, but will recommend small works that you read in a few minutes or per hour. I am sure that you will discover not only new arguments for yourself in these stories and the poster, but also new literature.

Express your opinion about our bookshelf \u003e\u003e

Gelprin Mike "Candle burned"

Story about our future without books and love for reading.

Tell me, what book did you read recently? And when was it? We have no time to read, have no time to think, there is no time to give will to your imagination, there is no time to enjoy the language, a syllable, history. All postpone and postpone. And what if you try to imagine what will happen when the turmozhny rhythm of life and progress will lead to the fact that literature will cease to be needed, willing and will remain only in the hearts of devotees of anachronic people?

Mike Gelprin wrote the story of the "Candle of Grown", which described a similar situation. Read it, please. And when there is time - go to a book rack, choose yourself something interesting.

The call rang when Andrei Petrovich lost all hope.
- Hello, I ad. Did you give literature lessons?
Andrei Petrovich looked into the video font screen. Man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiles, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich had a heart, he walked the announcement only in a habit. During ten years there were six calls. Three was mistaken by the number, two more people turned out to be working as insurance agents, and one attained literature with ligature.

Dr. Lessons, - Salmon from excitement, said Andrei Petrovich. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?
"Interested in," the interlocutor nodded. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.
"Task!" - Almost broke out from Andrei Petrovich.
"Payment hourly," he made himself. - by agreement. Would you like to start?
- I, Actually ... - The interlocutor jammed.
"The first lesson is free," Andrei Petrovich Hassed himself. - If you do not like it, then ...
"Let's tomorrow," Maxim said resolutely. - At ten in the morning you will suit you? To nine, I take the children to school, and then free to two.
"It satisfies," Andrei Petrovich was delighted. - Record the address.
- Speak, I will remember.

On this night, Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked along a tiny room, almost the cell, not knowing where to give the hands shaking from the experiences. For the twelve years now he lived on a benchbook. From the very day, as he was fired.
"You are too narrow specialist," said her hiding eye, director of lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here is your subject, alas. Tell me, you do not want to vote? The cost of learning lyceum could be partially paid. Virtual ethics, basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could well teach it. Even the cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, is not long left, but on your age ... how do you think?

Andrei Petrovich refused, he was still sorry. It was not possible to find a new job, the literature remained in a matter of tutorials, the last libraries were closed, philologists one after another retrained who in what is much. A couple of years he was up to the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then stopped. Washed half a year in retraining courses. When the wife was gone, threw them.

Savings ended quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten the belt. Then sell aeromobile, old but reliable. Antique service, remaining from Mom, for him things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich Mutilo every time he recalled this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper, also from mom. For rarities, collectors gave good money, so the colon's graph fed a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.

As a result, Andrei Petrovich remained fifty books - the most beloved, re-read up to the ten times, those with which could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a shelf, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich washed daily from the roots dust.

"If this guy, Maxim, was randomly thought Andrei Petrovich, nervously taking off the wall to the wall," if he ... then, perhaps, will be able to buy back Balmont. " Or Murakami. Or Amanda. "
Void, I understood Andrei Petrovich suddenly. It does not matter whether to buy off. He can convey, here it is, that's the only important thing. Transfer to! Transfer to others what knows what he has.

Maxim called the door exactly ten, minute per minute.
"Go around," Andrei Petrovich drove. - Sit down. Here, actually ... What would you like to start?
Maxim was blocked, carefully sat down on the edge of the chair.
- Why do you consider it necessary. You see, I'm a profan. Full. I did not teach anything.
- Yes, yes, naturally, Andrei Petrovich snapped. - Like all others. In secondary schools, literature does not teach almost a hundred years. And now they are no longer taught in special.
- Nowhere? - asked Maxim quietly.
- I'm afraid that nowhere else. You see, at the end of the twentieth century, the crisis began. Read has ever. First children, then the children matured, and read it was once of their children. Even more no time than parents. There were other pleasures - mostly virtual. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrei Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, and of course, the technique. Technical disciplines began to outpire humanitarian. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energies physics. And literature, history, geography went to the background. Especially literature. Do you watch Maxim?
- Yes, please continue.

Twenty-first century stopped printing books, the paper changed the electronics. But in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they did not quite - people stopped writing. Philologists lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of the twenty-early centuries written.
Andrei Petrovich fell silent, morning hand sweating suddenly forehead.

It is not easy for me to talk about it, "he finally said. - I realize that the proceeding process. Literature died because he did not get along with progress. But here are children, you understand ... Children! Literature was the fact that the minds were formed. Especially poetry. By defined the inner world of man, his spirituality. Children grow upside down, that's what is scary, that's what is terrible, Maxim!
- I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that is why he turned to you.
- Do you have children?
"Yes," Maxim jumped. - Two. Pavlik and Anya, weather. Andrei Petrovich, I only need Ase. I will find literature on the network, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to do focus. You learn me?
"Yes," said Andrei Petrovich firmly. - Scientific.

He rose, crossed his arms on his chest, focused.
"Pasternak," he said solemnly. - Melo, Melo throughout the Earth, in all limits. Candle burned on the table, candle burned ...

Do you come tomorrow, Maxim? "Trying to take a trembling in his voice, Andrei Petrovich asked.
- certainly. Only here ... You know, I have been working as a wealthy couple. I am conducting the farm, affairs, slaughtering bills. I have a low salary. But I, - Maxim wrapped the room with his eyes, "I can bring products." Some things perhaps everyday technique. In the expense of payment. Will you arrange?
Andrei Petrovich unwittingly blushed. It would be arranged and the task.
"Of course, Maxim," he said. - Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow.

Literature is not only written about what is written, "said Andrei Petrovich, causing around the room. - It is also written. Language, Maxim, the same tool that enjoyed great writers and poets. Listen to.

Maxim listened to Maxim. It seemed that he tries to remember, to learn the speech of the teacher by heart.
"Pushkin," Andrei Petrovich said and began to reclaim.
Tavrida, Anchar, Evgeny Onegin.
Lermontov "MTSYRY".
Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Block, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...
Maxim listened.
- Not tired? - asked Andrei Petrovich.
- No, no, what are you. Please continue.

The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich joined, awakened to life in which the meaning unexpectedly appeared. Poetry changed the prose, it was much larger at her time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. She grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich did not stop wondering how Maxim, at first, deaf to the Word, not perceiving, which did not feel the harmony nested into the tongue, he fasted it every day and knew it better, deeper than in the previous one.

Balzac, Hugo, Maupassan, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kubrin.
Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remark, Marquez, Nabokov.
The eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.
Classic, fiction, fantasy, detective.
Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Shekley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Zaprizo.

Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich was still awesome in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. Could not, whispered inner voice, tinnitus and peeping. Skrupulate Pedantic Maxim could not. He never late for a minute for a minute. And here did not even call. In the evening, Andrei Petrovich no longer found a place, and at night I did not climbed the eye. By ten in the morning he was finally survealed, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, wandered to the video.
- The room is disabled from the service, "the mechanical voice told.

The next few days passed as one bad dream. Even the favorite books were not saved from acute longing and the newly emerged feelings of their own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich was not remembered about. Call hospitals, morgue, obsessively buzzed in the temple. And what to ask? Or about com? Whether a certain Maxim did not flow, thirty years old, sorry, I don't know the last name?

Andrei Petrovich got out of the house to the outside, when there was more non-dirt in four walls.
- A, Petrovich! - welcomed the old man of the oil, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. And what you do not go, you shame, or what? So you seem to do with nothing.
- What sense is going? - Overwheel Andrei Petrovich.
"Well, that this, yours," the nebids held the edge of his palm on the throat. - Who walked to you. I did everything that Petrovich in old age has contacted this audience.
- What are you about? - Andrei Petrovich has frowning inside. - With what public?
- It is known with what. I immediately see these doves. Thirty years, consider, worked with them.
- with whom with them? - Andrei Petrovich cheated. - What are you talking about?
"You really don't know?" - rumbled in oil. - News Look, about it everywhere True.

Andrei Petrovich did not remember how to get to the elevator. I climbed the fourteenth, shaking hands swayed in my pocket the key. From the fifth attempt, he took away, squeezed to the computer, connected to the network, britched the news feed. The heart suddenly went on pain. From the photo I watched Maxim, the lines of the cursive under the picture broke before their eyes.

"Stretched by the owners, - with difficulty focusing his eyesight, read Andrei Petrovich from the screen - in the embezzlement of food, clothing and home appliances. Home robot governor, series DRG-439K. Defect management program. He stated that he had independently came to the conclusion about childhood confusion, with which he decided to fight. Self-adequately trained children objects outside the school program. From the owners hid his activity. They are removed from the appeal ... in fact, it is disposed of .... the public is concerned about the manifestation ... the issuing firm is ready to incur ... Specially created committee ruled ... ".

Andrei Petrovich rose. On stiff legs, swallowed in the kitchen. He opened a buffet, on the bottom shelf stood brought by Maxim in the expense of payment for the training of a pouring bottle of brandy. Andrei Petrovich ripped the plug, looked around in search of a glass. I did not find and rushed out of the throat. I coughed, dropping the bottle, recoiled to the wall. The knees were lifted, Andrei Petrovich fell hard on the floor.

The cat under the tail, came the final thought. All cat under the tail. All this time he taught a robot.

Suitless, defective piece of iron. Invested everything in it that is. Everything for what is just worth living. Everything for what he lived.

Andrei Petrovich, overgrowing the pain graspted behind the heart, rose. He dragged to the window, tightly wrapped Framuhu. Now gas stove. Open the burners and half an hour wait. And that's it.

Call on the door found it halfway to the stove. Andrei Petrovich, grieving his teeth, moved to open. On the threshold stood two children. The boy is ten years old. And the girl for the year or the younger.
- Do you give literature lessons? - Looking from under the falling chalki, asked the girl.
- What? - Andrei Petrovich hesitated. - Who are you?
"I am Pavlik," the boy took a step forward. - This is Anya, my sister. We are from Max.
- From ... from whom?!
"From Max," the boy repeated stubbornly. - He ordered to convey. Before him ... as his ...

Melo, chalk all over the land in all limits! - Suddenly the girl shouted the girl.
Andrei Petrovich grabbed his heart, convulsively swallowed, stuffed, shook him back into the chest.
- Are you kidding? "It's quietly, he said hardly."

The candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning, - firmly pronounced boy. "It he ordered to convey, Max." Will you learn us?
Andrei Petrovich, clinging to the door jamb, stepped back.
"My God," he said. - Come in. Come in, children.

Mike Gelprin, New York (Seagull Magazine from 09/16/2011)

Mike Gelprin
Candle burned (story)

The call rang when Andrei Petrovich lost all hope.

Hello, I'm on the ad. Did you give literature lessons?
Andrei Petrovich looked into the video font screen. Man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiles, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich was shined under his heart, he put an ad on the network only in habit. During ten years there were six calls. Three was mistaken by the number, two more people turned out to be working as insurance agents, and one attained literature with ligature.
"Dmu lessons," squeezed from excitement, Andrei Petrovich said. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?
"Interested in," the interlocutor nodded. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.
"Task!" - Almost broke out from Andrei Petrovich.
"Payment hourly," he made himself. - by agreement. Would you like to start?
- I, Actually ... - The interlocutor jammed.
"The first lesson is free," Andrei Petrovich Hassed himself. - If you do not like it, then ...
"Let's tomorrow," Maxim said resolutely. - At ten in the morning you will suit you? To nine, I take the children to school, and then free to two.
"It satisfies," Andrei Petrovich was delighted. - Record the address.
- Speak, I will remember.

***
On this night, Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked along a tiny room, almost the cell, not knowing where to give the hands shaking from the experiences. For the twelve years now he lived on a benchbook. From the very day, as he was fired.
"You are too narrow specialist," said her hiding eye, director of lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here is your subject, alas. Tell me, you do not want to vote? The cost of learning lyceum could be partially paid. Virtual ethics, basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could well teach it. Even the cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, is not long left, but on your age ... how do you think?
Andrei Petrovich refused, he was still sorry. It was not possible to find a new job, the literature remained in a matter of tutorials, the last libraries were closed, philologists one after another retrained who in what is much.
A couple of years he was up to the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then stopped. Washed half a year in retraining courses. When the wife was gone, threw them.
Savings ended quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten the belt. Then sell aeromobile, old but reliable. Antique service, remaining from Mom, for him things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich Mutilo every time he recalled this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper, also from mom. For rarities, collectors gave good money, so the colon's graph fed a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.
As a result, Andrei Petrovich remained fifty books - the most beloved, re-read up to the ten times, those with which could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a shelf, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich washed daily from the roots dust.
"If this guy, Maxim, was randomly thought Andrei Petrovich, nervously taking off the wall to the wall," if he ... then, perhaps, will be able to buy back Balmont. " Or Murakami. Or Amanda. "
Void, I understood Andrei Petrovich suddenly. It does not matter whether to buy off. He can convey, here it is, that's the only important thing. Transfer to! Transfer to others what knows what he has.

***
Maxim called the door exactly ten, minute per minute.
"Go around," Andrei Petrovich drove. - Sit down. Here, actually ... What would you like to start?
Maxim was blocked, carefully sat down on the edge of the chair.
- Why do you consider it necessary. You see, I'm a profan. Full. I did not teach anything.
- Yes, yes, naturally, Andrei Petrovich snapped. - Like all others. In secondary schools, literature does not teach almost a hundred years. And now they are no longer taught in special.
- Nowhere? - asked Maxim quietly.
- I'm afraid that nowhere else. You see, at the end of the twentieth century, the crisis began. Read has ever. First children, then the children matured, and read it was once of their children. Even more no time than parents. There were other pleasures - mostly virtual. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrei Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, and of course, the technique. Technical disciplines began to outpire humanitarian. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energies physics. And literature, history, geography went to the background. Especially literature. Do you watch Maxim?
- Yes, please continue.
- In the twenty-first century they stopped printing books, the electronics changed the paper. But in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they did not quite - people stopped writing. Philologists lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of the twenty-early centuries written.
Andrei Petrovich fell silent, morning hand sweating suddenly forehead.
"It's not easy for me to talk about it," he finally said. - I realize that the proceeding process. Literature died because he did not get along with progress. But here are children, you understand ... Children! Literature was the fact that the minds were formed. Especially poetry. By defined the inner world of man, his spirituality. Children grow upside down, that's what is scary, that's what is terrible, Maxim!
- I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that is why he turned to you.
- Do you have children?
"Yes," Maxim jumped. - Two. Pavlik and Anya, weather. Andrei Petrovich, I only need Ase. I will find literature on the network, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to do focus. You learn me?
"Yes," said Andrei Petrovich firmly. - Scientific.
He rose, crossed his arms on his chest, focused.
"Pasternak," he said solemnly. - Melo, Melo throughout the Earth, in all limits. Candle burned on the table, candle burned ...

***
- Will you come tomorrow, Maxim? "Trying to take a trembling in his voice, Andrei Petrovich asked.
- certainly. Only here ... You know, I have been working as a wealthy couple. I am conducting the farm, affairs, slaughtering bills. I have a low salary. But I, - Maxim wrapped the room with his eyes, "I can bring products." Some things perhaps everyday technique. In the expense of payment. Will you arrange?
Andrei Petrovich unwittingly blushed. It would be arranged and the task.
"Of course, Maxim," he said. - Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow.

***
"The literature is not only written about what is written," said Andrei Petrovich, having taught the room. - It is also written. Language, Maxim, the same tool that enjoyed great writers and poets. Listen to.
Maxim listened to Maxim. It seemed that he tries to remember, to learn the speech of the teacher by heart.
"Pushkin," Andrei Petrovich said and began to reclaim.
Tavrida, Anchar, Evgeny Onegin.
Lermontov "MTSYRY".
Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Block, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...
Maxim listened.
- Not tired? - asked Andrei Petrovich.
- No, no, what are you. Please continue.

***
The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich joined, awakened to life in which the meaning unexpectedly appeared. Poetry changed the prose, it was much larger at her time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. She grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich did not stop wondering how Maxim, at first, deaf to the Word, not perceiving, which did not feel the harmony nested into the tongue, he fasted it every day and knew it better, deeper than in the previous one.
Balzac, Hugo, Maupassan, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kubrin.
Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remark, Marquez, Nabokov.
The eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.
Classic, fiction, fantasy, detective.
Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Shekley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Zaprizo.

***
Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich was still awesome in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. Could not, whispered inner voice, tinnitus and peeping. Skrupulate Pedantic Maxim could not. He never late for a minute for a minute. And here did not even call.
In the evening, Andrei Petrovich no longer found a place, and at night I did not climbed the eye. By ten in the morning he was finally survealed, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, wandered to the video.
- The room is disabled from the service, "the mechanical voice told.
The next few days passed as one bad dream. Even the favorite books were not saved from acute longing and the newly emerged feelings of their own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich was not remembered about. Call hospitals, morgue, obsessively buzzed in the temple. And what to ask? Or about com? Whether a certain Maxim did not flow, thirty years old, sorry, I don't know the last name?
Andrei Petrovich got out of the house to the outside, when there was more non-dirt in four walls.
- A, Petrovich! - welcomed the old man of the oil, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. And what you do not go, you shame, or what? So you seem to do with nothing.
- What sense is going? - Overwheel Andrei Petrovich.
"Well, that this, yours," the nebids held the edge of his palm on the throat. - Who walked to you. I did everything that Petrovich in old age has contacted this audience.
- What are you about? - Andrei Petrovich has frowning inside. - With what public?
- It is known with what. I immediately see these doves. Thirty years, consider, worked with them.
- with whom with them? - Andrei Petrovich cheated. - What are you talking about?
"You really don't know?" - rumbled in oil. - News Look, about it everywhere True.
Andrei Petrovich did not remember how to get to the elevator. I climbed the fourteenth, shaking hands swayed in my pocket the key. From the fifth attempt, he took away, squeezed to the computer, connected to the network, britched the news feed.
The heart suddenly went on pain. From the photo I watched Maxim, the lines of the cursive under the picture broke before their eyes.
"Stretched by the owners, - with difficulty focusing his eyesight, read Andrei Petrovich from the screen - in the embezzlement of food, clothing and home appliances. Home robot governor, series DRG-439K. Defect management program. He stated that he had independently came to the conclusion about childhood confusion, with which he decided to fight. Self-adequately trained children objects outside the school program. From the owners hid his activity. Separated from the appeal ... on the fact it is recycled ... The public is concerned about the manifestation ... the issuing firm is ready to incur ... Specially created committee ruled ... ".
Andrei Petrovich rose. On stiff legs, swallowed in the kitchen. He opened a buffet, on the bottom shelf stood brought by Maxim in the expense of payment for the training of a pouring bottle of brandy. Andrei Petrovich ripped the plug, looked around in search of a glass. I did not find and rushed out of the throat. I coughed, dropping the bottle, recoiled to the wall. The knees were lifted, Andrei Petrovich fell hard on the floor.
The cat under the tail, came the final thought. All cat under the tail. All this time he taught a robot. Suitless, defective piece of iron. Invested everything in it that is. Everything for what is just worth living. Everything for what he lived.
Andrei Petrovich, overgrowing the pain graspted behind the heart, rose. He dragged to the window, tightly wrapped Framuhu. Now gas stove. Open the burners and half an hour wait. And that's it.
Call on the door found it halfway to the stove. Andrei Petrovich, grieving his teeth, moved to open. On the threshold stood two children. The boy is ten years old. And the girl for the year or the younger.
- Do you give literature lessons? - Looking from under the falling chalki, asked the girl.
- What? - Andrei Petrovich hesitated. - Who are you?
"I am Pavlik," the boy took a step forward. - This is Anya, my sister. We are from Max.
- From ... from whom?!
"From Max," the boy repeated stubbornly. - He ordered to convey. Before him ... as his ...
- Melo, Chalno throughout the land in all limits! - Suddenly the girl shouted the girl.
Andrei Petrovich grabbed his heart, convulsively swallowed, stuffed, shook him back into the chest.
- Are you kidding? "It's quietly, he said hardly."
- Candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning, "the boy said firmly. "It he ordered to convey, Max." Will you learn us?
Andrei Petrovich, clinging to the door jamb, stepped back.
"My God," he said. - Come in. Come in, children.

about the author
Mike Gelprin
Country: USA
Born: 1961-05-08
Pseudonyms: Ji Mike
Biography:
Mike Gelprin, also known under the pseudonym Ji Mike, was born on August 5, 1961 in Leningrad. He graduated from the Leningrad Polytechnic Institute in 1984 in the specialty "Engineer-hydraulic engineering". In 1994, he moved to a permanent place of residence from St. Petersburg to New York. Changed many works and professions. Lives in Brooklyn.
The literary work of Gelprin began in 2005 as the author of humorous stories, but quickly switched to fiction. His stories and stories appeared in Russian magazines "Weave", "Ural Pathfinder", "The World of Fiction", "Half XXI Century", in the Ukrainian "threshold" and "reality of fiction", American "Seagull" and "I", German " Partner-Norde and others.
Gelprin is a representative of the Yekaterinburg magazine "Weavi" in the United States.

Problems:
-rol literature in a person's life;
-Rol teacher in a person's life;
- What does the essence of man and its humanity manifest itself;
- What is altruism;
-What fills the human life meaning, in which the meaning of life (on the example of the teacher).
-Hechnical progress (can the technique to replace everything? Is there a place of culture and art in the world of science and technology?)
-Egative consequences of the NTR

Candle burned

Story read time - 14 minutes.

Candle burned. Mike Gelprin

The call rang when Andrei Petrovich lost all hope.
- Hello, I ad. Did you give literature lessons?
Andrei Petrovich looked into the video font screen. Man under thirty. Strictly dressed - suit, tie. Smiles, but serious eyes. Andrei Petrovich had a heart, he walked the announcement only in a habit. During ten years there were six calls. Three was mistaken by the number, two more people turned out to be working as insurance agents, and one attained literature with ligature.
"Dmu lessons," squeezed from excitement, Andrei Petrovich said. - N-at home. Are you interested in literature?

Interested in, - nodded the interlocutor. - My name is Maxim. Let me know what the conditions are.
"Task!" - Almost broke out from Andrei Petrovich.
"Payment hourly," he made himself. - by agreement. Would you like to start?
- I, Actually ... - The interlocutor jammed.
"The first lesson is free," Andrei Petrovich Hassed himself. - If you do not like it, then ...
"Let's tomorrow," Maxim said resolutely. - At ten in the morning you will suit you? To nine, I take the children to school, and then free to two.
"It satisfies," Andrei Petrovich was delighted. - Record the address.
- Speak, I will remember.
On this night, Andrei Petrovich did not sleep, walked along a tiny room, almost the cell, not knowing where to give the hands shaking from the experiences. For the twelve years now he lived on a benchbook. From the very day, as he was fired.
"You are too narrow specialist," said her hiding eye, director of lyceum for children with humanitarian inclinations. - We appreciate you as an experienced teacher, but here is your subject, alas. Tell me, you do not want to vote? The cost of learning lyceum could be partially paid. Virtual ethics, basics of virtual law, the history of robotics - you could well teach it. Even the cinema is still quite popular. He, of course, is not long left, but on your age ... how do you think?
Andrei Petrovich refused, he was still sorry. It was not possible to find a new job, the literature remained in a matter of tutorials, the last libraries were closed, philologists one after another retrained who in what is much. A couple of years he was up to the thresholds of gymnasiums, lyceums and special schools. Then stopped. Washed half a year in retraining courses. When the wife was gone, threw them.
Savings ended quickly, and Andrei Petrovich had to tighten the belt. Then sell aeromobile, old but reliable. Antique service, remaining from Mom, for him things. And then ... Andrei Petrovich Mutilo every time he recalled this - then it was the turn of books. Ancient, thick, paper, also from mom. For rarities, collectors gave good money, so the colon's graph fed a whole month. Dostoevsky - two weeks. Bunin - one and a half.
As a result, Andrei Petrovich remained fifty books - the most beloved, re-read up to the ten times, those with which could not part. Remarque, Hemingway, Marquez, Bulgakov, Brodsky, Pasternak ... Books stood on a shelf, occupying four shelves, Andrei Petrovich washed daily from the roots dust.
"If this guy, Maxim, was randomly thought Andrei Petrovich, nervously taking off the wall to the wall," if he ... then, perhaps, will be able to buy back Balmont. " Or Murakami. Or Amanda. "
Void, I understood Andrei Petrovich suddenly. It does not matter whether to buy off. He can convey, here it is, that's the only important thing. Transfer to! Transfer to others what knows what he has.
Maxim called the door exactly ten, minute per minute.
"Go around," Andrei Petrovich drove. - Sit down. Here, actually ... What would you like to start?
Maxim was blocked, carefully sat down on the edge of the chair.
- Why do you consider it necessary. You see, I'm a profan. Full. I did not teach anything.
- Yes, yes, naturally, Andrei Petrovich snapped. - Like all others. In secondary schools, literature does not teach almost a hundred years. And now they are no longer taught in special.
- Nowhere? - asked Maxim quietly.
- I'm afraid that nowhere else. You see, at the end of the twentieth century, the crisis began. Read has ever. First children, then the children matured, and read it was once of their children. Even more no time than parents. There were other pleasures - mostly virtual. Games. Any tests, quests ... - Andrei Petrovich waved his hand. - Well, and of course, the technique. Technical disciplines began to outpire humanitarian. Cybernetics, quantum mechanics and electrodynamics, high energies physics. And literature, history, geography went to the background. Especially literature. Do you watch Maxim?
- Yes, please continue.
- In the twenty-first century they stopped printing books, the electronics changed the paper. But in the electronic version, the demand for literature fell - rapidly, several times in each new generation compared to the previous one. As a result, the number of writers decreased, then they did not quite - people stopped writing. Philologists lasted a hundred years longer - at the expense of the twenty-early centuries written.
Andrei Petrovich fell silent, morning hand sweating suddenly forehead.
"It's not easy for me to talk about it," he finally said. - I realize that the proceeding process. Literature died because he did not get along with progress. But here are children, you understand ... Children! Literature was the fact that the minds were formed. Especially poetry. By defined the inner world of man, his spirituality. Children grow upside down, that's what is scary, that's what is terrible, Maxim!
- I myself came to this conclusion, Andrei Petrovich. And that is why he turned to you.
- Do you have children?
"Yes," Maxim jumped. - Two. Pavlik and Anya, weather. Andrei Petrovich, I only need Ase. I will find literature on the network, I will read. I just need to know what. And what to do focus. You learn me?
"Yes," said Andrei Petrovich firmly. - Scientific.
He rose, crossed his arms on his chest, focused.
"Pasternak," he said solemnly. - Melo, Melo throughout the Earth, in all limits. Candle burned on the table, candle burned ...
- Will you come tomorrow, Maxim? "Trying to take a trembling in his voice, Andrei Petrovich asked.
- certainly. Only here ... You know, I have been working as a wealthy couple. I am conducting the farm, affairs, slaughtering bills. I have a low salary. But I, - Maxim wrapped the room with his eyes, "I can bring products." Some things perhaps everyday technique. In the expense of payment. Will you arrange?
Andrei Petrovich unwittingly blushed. It would be arranged and the task.
"Of course, Maxim," he said. - Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow.
- Literature - this is not only written about what - said Andrei Petrovich, having taught the room. - It is also written. Language, Maxim, the same tool that enjoyed great writers and poets. Listen to.
Maxim listened to Maxim. It seemed that he tries to remember, to learn the speech of the teacher by heart.
"Pushkin," Andrei Petrovich said and began to reclaim.
Tavrida, "Anchar", "Eugene".
Lermontov "".

Baratynsky, Yesenin, Mayakovsky, Block, Balmont, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, Mandelstam, Vysotsky ...
Maxim listened.
- Not tired? - asked Andrei Petrovich.
- No, no, what are you. Please continue.
The day was replaced by a new one. Andrei Petrovich joined, awakened to life in which the meaning unexpectedly appeared. Poetry changed the prose, it was much larger at her time, but Maxim turned out to be a grateful student. She grabbed on the fly. Andrei Petrovich did not stop wondering how Maxim, at first, deaf to the Word, not perceiving, which did not feel the harmony nested into the tongue, he fasted it every day and knew it better, deeper than in the previous one.
Balzac, Hugo, Maupassan, Dostoevsky, Turgenev, Bunin, Kubrin.
Bulgakov, Hemingway, Babel, Remark, Marquez, Nabokov.
The eighteenth century, nineteenth, twentieth.
Classic, fiction, fantasy, detective.
Stevenson, Twain, Conan Doyle, Shekley, Strugatsky, Weiners, Zaprizo.
Once, on Wednesday, Maxim did not come. Andrei Petrovich was still awesome in anticipation, persuading himself that he could get sick. Could not, whispered inner voice, tinnitus and peeping. Skrupulate Pedantic Maxim could not. He never late for a minute for a minute. And here did not even call. In the evening, Andrei Petrovich no longer found a place, and at night I did not climbed the eye. By ten in the morning he was finally survealed, and when it became clear that Maxim would not come again, wandered to the video.
- The room is disabled from the service, "the mechanical voice told.
The next few days passed as one bad dream. Even the favorite books were not saved from acute longing and the newly emerged feelings of their own worthlessness, which Andrei Petrovich was not remembered about. Call hospitals, morgue, obsessively buzzed in the temple. And what to ask? Or about com? Whether a certain Maxim did not flow, thirty years old, sorry, I don't know the last name?
Andrei Petrovich got out of the house to the outside, when there was more non-dirt in four walls.
- A, Petrovich! - welcomed the old man of the oil, a neighbor from below. - Long time no see. And what you do not go, you shame, or what? So you seem to do with nothing.
- What sense is going? - Overwheel Andrei Petrovich.
"Well, that this, yours," the nebids held the edge of his palm on the throat. - Who walked to you. I did everything that Petrovich in old age has contacted this audience.
- What are you about? - Andrei Petrovich has frowning inside. - With what public?
- It is known with what. I immediately see these doves. Thirty years, consider, worked with them.
- with whom with them? - Andrei Petrovich cheated. - What are you talking about?
"You really don't know?" - rumbled in oil. - News Look, about it everywhere True.
Andrei Petrovich did not remember how to get to the elevator. I climbed the fourteenth, shaking hands swayed in my pocket the key. From the fifth attempt, he took away, squeezed to the computer, connected to the network, britched the news feed. The heart suddenly went on pain. From the photo I watched Maxim, the lines of the cursive under the picture broke before their eyes.
"Stretched by the owners, - with difficulty focusing his eyesight, read Andrei Petrovich from the screen - in the embezzlement of food, clothing and home appliances. Home robot governor, series DRG-439K. Defect management program. He stated that he had independently came to the conclusion about childhood confusion, with which he decided to fight. Self-adequately trained children objects outside the school program. From the owners hid his activity. Separated from the appeal ... on the fact it is recycled ... The public is concerned about the manifestation ... the issuing firm is ready to incur ... Specially created committee ruled ... ".
Andrei Petrovich rose. On stiff legs, swallowed in the kitchen. He opened a buffet, on the bottom shelf stood brought by Maxim in the expense of payment for the training of a pouring bottle of brandy. Andrei Petrovich ripped the plug, looked around in search of a glass. I did not find and rushed out of the throat. I coughed, dropping the bottle, recoiled to the wall. The knees were lifted, Andrei Petrovich fell hard on the floor.
The cat under the tail, came the final thought. All cat under the tail. All this time he taught a robot.
Suitless, defective piece of iron. Invested everything in it that is. Everything for what is just worth living. Everything for what he lived.
Andrei Petrovich, overgrowing the pain graspted behind the heart, rose. He dragged to the window, tightly wrapped Framuhu. Now gas stove. Open the burners and half an hour wait. And that's it.
Call on the door found it halfway to the stove. Andrei Petrovich, grieving his teeth, moved to open. On the threshold stood two children. The boy is ten years old. And the girl for the year or the younger.
- Do you give literature lessons? - Looking from under the falling chalki, asked the girl.
- What? - Andrei Petrovich hesitated. - Who are you?
"I am Pavlik," the boy took a step forward. - This is Anya, my sister. We are from Max.
- From ... from whom?!
"From Max," the boy repeated stubbornly. - He ordered to convey. Before him ... as his ...
- Melo, Chalno throughout the land in all limits! - Suddenly the girl shouted the girl.
Andrei Petrovich grabbed his heart, convulsively swallowed, stuffed, shook him back into the chest.
- Are you kidding? "It's quietly, he said hardly."
- Candle was burning on the table, the candle was burning, "the boy said firmly. "It he ordered to convey, Max." Will you learn us?
Andrei Petrovich, clinging to the door jamb, stepped back.
"My God," he said. - Come in. Come in, children.