Retelling plan

1. Acquaintance with the driver Maltsev and his assistant.
2. Maltsev takes on a difficult task and goes blind while the train is moving. Such management of the composition could lead to disaster.
3. Maltsev regains his sight, he is put on trial and sent to prison.
4. The former driver goes blind again during an investigative experiment with lightning-like electrical discharges.
5. After a special exam, the driver's assistant drives the passenger trains. He takes the blind Maltsev on a trip.
6. Maltsev begins to see clearly.

Retelling

The hero tells about the incident that happened to him and "the best locomotive driver" Maltsev. He was young, thirty years old, but already had a first class qualification and drove fast trains.

Maltsev was the first to be transferred to the new IS passenger steam locomotive. The narrator was appointed to be his assistant. He was very pleased with the opportunity to master the art of driving, and at the same time to join the new technique.

The driver received the new assistant indifferently. He relied only on himself and his knowledge in everything, so he carefully rechecked all the parts and components of the machine. This was a habit, but offended the student with disbelief in his ability. But for his professionalism, the hero forgave a lot to his teacher, who definitely felt the way. The train was never late, they quickly caught up with delays at intermediate stations along the way.

Maltsev practically did not communicate with either the assistant or the stoker. If he wanted to point out defects in the operation of the machine that needed to be eliminated, he knocked on the boiler with a key. He thought that no one else could love a steam locomotive and drive it the way he did. “And we really couldn't understand his skills,” the author admits.

Once the driver allowed the narrator to lead the train on his own. But after a while he was behind schedule by four and a half minutes. Maltsev successfully compensated for this time.

For almost a year, the hero worked as an assistant. And then an event happened that turned the lives of the heroes. They took the train four hours late. The dispatcher asked to close this gap in order to empty the truck on the next road. The train entered the zone of a thundercloud. Blue light hit the windshield, blinding the hero. It was lightning, but Maltsev did not see it.

Night has come. The hero noticed that Maltsev began to drive the car worse, later it became clear that something was wrong with him. When the hero screamed, the driver braked urgently. A man stood on the road and waved a red-hot poker to stop the train. Ahead, just ten meters away, was a freight train. They did not notice how yellow, red, and other warning signals passed. This could lead to disaster. Maltsev ordered his assistant to drive the locomotive, admitting that he was blind.

After reporting the incident to the head of the depot, the assistant went to escort him home. Already on the way to the house, Maltsev regained his sight.

After the incident, Maltsev was put on trial. The investigator summoned the driver's assistant as a witness, and he said that he did not consider Maltsev guilty, since the driver was blinded by a close lightning strike. But the investigator reacted with suspicion to these words, because the lightning did not affect the others. But the hero had his own explanation. In his opinion, Maltsev was blinded by the light of lightning, and not by the discharge itself. And when the lightning struck, he was already blind.

Maltsev was still found guilty, since he did not transfer control to an assistant, risking the lives of hundreds of people. From the investigator, the hero went to Maltsev. When asked why he did not entrust him with his place, he replied that it seemed to him that he was seeing the light, but in fact it was in his imagination. Maltsev was sent to prison. The hero became an assistant to another driver. But he missed Maltsev, his ability to really work, and did not leave the thought of helping him.

He proposed to conduct an experiment with a prisoner using a Tesla installation to obtain artificial lightning. However, the experiment was carried out without warning, and Maltsev went blind again. But now the chances of returning vision were much less. Both the investigator and the hero felt guilty for what had happened. Having found justice and innocence, Maltsev received an illness that prevented him from living and working.

At this moment, for the first time, the hero came up with the idea of \u200b\u200bthe existence of some fatal forces that accidentally and indifferently destroy a person. "I saw that there are facts proving the existence of circumstances hostile to human life, and these destructive forces crush the chosen, exalted people." But the hero decided not to give up and resist the circumstances. A year later, the former assistant passed the exam for the rank of a driver and began to independently drive passenger trains. Very often he met Maltsev, who, leaning on his cane, stood at the station platform and "eagerly breathed the smell of burning and lubricating oil, listened attentively to the rhythmic work of the steam-air pump." He understood the melancholy of Maltsev, who had lost the meaning of life, but could do nothing to help him.

Maltsev was irritated by the benevolent words and sympathy. Once the hero promised to take him with him on a trip, if he would "sit still." The blind man agreed to all the conditions. The next morning, the hero put him in the driver's seat. He put his hands on top of his hands, and so they drove to their destination. On the way back, he put the teacher in his place again. And in quiet areas, he even allowed him to drive on his own. The flight ended safely, the train was not late. The hero hoped for a miracle. On the last stretch, he deliberately did not cut the speed before the yellow traffic light. Suddenly Maltsev got up, stretched out his hand to the regulator and shut off the steam. “I see a yellow light,” he said and began to brake. “He turned his face and began to cry. I went up to him and kissed him back. " Kostya's desire to "protect him (his teacher) from the grief of fate" performed a miracle. Until the end of the journey, Maltsev drove the car on his own. After the flight, they sat together all evening and all night. This time, the hostile forces retreated.

In the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander was considered the best locomotive driver

Vasilievich Maltsev.

He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualification of a driver of the first

class and drove fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful one arrived at our depot

passenger steam locomotive of the IS series, then this machine was assigned to work

Maltsev, which was quite reasonable and correct. Maltsev's assistant

worked an elderly man from the depot locksmiths named Fyodor Petrovich

Drabanov, but he soon passed the exam for a driver and went to work for

another car, and I, instead of Drabanov, was assigned to work in the brigade

Maltsev's assistant; before that I also worked as an assistant mechanic, but only

on an old, low-power machine.

I was pleased with my appointment. The IS machine, the only one then on

our traction section, one of its appearance made me feel

inspiration; I could look at her for a long time, and a special moved joy

awakened in me - as beautiful as in childhood at the first reading

poems by Pushkin. I also wanted to work in a first-class crew

mechanic to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed

Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and

indifferently; he apparently did not care who he would be in

assistants.

Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested everything

its service and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, counting the car

ready to ride. Alexander Vasilievich saw my work, he followed

her, but after me with my own hands I checked the condition of the car again,

as if he didn't trust me.

This was repeated later, and I was already used to the fact that Alexander

Vasilievich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was upset

silently. But usually, as soon as we were in motion, I forgot about my

chagrin. Distracting attention from the devices monitoring the condition

a running steam locomotive, from observing the work of the left car and the path ahead, I

looked at Maltsev. He led the squad with the daring confidence of a great

master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who absorbed all

the outer world into its inner experience and therefore dominating it.

Alexander Vasilyevich's eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I

knew that he saw them all the way ahead and all nature rushing to us

towards - even a sparrow swept from the ballast slope by the wind

piercing the space of the car, even this sparrow attracted the eye

Maltsev, and for a moment he turned his head after the sparrow: what with

he will become after us, where he flew.

It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, often we

detained at intermediate stations, which we must proceed from

running, because we went with a surge of time and us through delays

back into the schedule.

We usually worked in silence; only occasionally Alexander Vasilievich, not

turning in my direction, knocked on the boiler with the key, wishing that I turned

attention to any irregularity in the operation of the machine, or

preparing me for an abrupt change in this regime so that I am alert.

I have always understood the silent directions of my senior comrade and worked with

full zeal, but the mechanic still treated me, and so did

a fireman, aloof and constantly checking in parking lots

grease nipples, tightening the bolts in the drawbar assemblies, tested the axle boxes for

driving axles and so on. If I just inspected and lubricated any

the working rubbing part, then Maltsev, following me, again examined it and

oiled, as if not considering my work valid.

I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead, - I said

to him once, when he began to check this detail after me.

And I myself want, - smiling, answered Maltsev, and in his smile was

the sadness that struck me.

Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant

indifference to us. He felt superior to us because

understood the machine more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could

learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing at the same time the passing

sparrow, and the signal ahead, feeling at the same moment the path, weight of the train and

machine effort. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence

we can even overcome him, but did not imagine that we are bigger than him

they loved the steam locomotive and drove trains better than him - he thought it was better.

And Maltsev was therefore sad with us; he missed his talent like

from loneliness, not knowing how to express it so that we understand.

And we really could not understand his skills. I asked once

allow me to lead the composition myself; Alexander Vasilievich allowed

i had to drive forty kilometers and sat in the assistant's seat. I led the lineup, and

after twenty kilometers already had four minutes late, and exits from

long climbs overcame at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers in

hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took climbs with speed

fifty kilometers, and on curves he did not throw a car, like

me, and he soon caught up with the time I had lost.

For about a year I worked as an assistant for Maltsev, from August to July, and 5

july Maltsev made his last trip as a train driver

courier train ...

We took a train of eighty passenger axles, which was late before us in

the way for four hours. The dispatcher went to the locomotive and specifically asked

Alexander Vasilievich to reduce, as much as possible, the delay of the train, to reduce

it is late at least by three o'clock, otherwise it will be difficult for him to give out an empty one

on the next road. Maltsev promised him to catch up with time, and we set off

It was eight o'clock in the afternoon, but the summer day was still on, and the sun

shone with solemn morning strength. Alexander Vasilievich demanded from

keep the steam pressure in the boiler only half an atmosphere lower all the time

limiting.

In half an hour we went out into the steppe, on a calm, soft profile. Maltsev

brought the speed to ninety kilometers and did not give up below, on the contrary -

on horizontal and low inclines he brought the speed up to one hundred kilometers. On

ascents, I forced the firebox to its maximum capacity and forced the fireman

manually load the shurovka, to help the stockker machine, because I have steam

Maltsev drove the car forward, moving the regulator to the full arc and giving

reverse to full cutoff. We were now walking towards the powerful cloud that appeared

over the horizon. From our side, the cloud was illuminated by the sun, and from the inside it was torn

ferocious, irritated lightning bolts, and we saw the lightning swords vertically

plunged into the silent distant land, and we raced madly towards that distant

earth, as if in a hurry to protect it. Alexander Vasilyevich, apparently, was carried away

this is a sight: he leaned far out the window, looking ahead, and his eyes,

accustomed to smoke, fire and space, now shone with enthusiasm.

He understood that the work and power of our machine could be compared with

the work of the thunderstorm, and, perhaps, was proud of this thought.

Soon we noticed a dusty whirlwind rushing across the steppe towards us.

This means that the storm cloud was carried head-on by the storm. The light has darkened around us;

dry earth and steppe sand whistled and grated on the iron body

steam locomotive; there was no visibility, and I turned on the turbo dynamo for lighting and

turned on the frontal searchlight ahead of the locomotive. We found it hard to breathe now

from the hot dusty whirlwind that hammered into the cockpit and doubled in its

force of oncoming traffic, from flue gases and early dusk,

surrounding us. The locomotive with a howl made its way forward into the vague, stuffy darkness

Into the slit of light created by the headlamp. The speed dropped to

sixty kilometers; we worked and looked ahead as in a dream.

Suddenly a large drop hit the windshield - and immediately dried up,

soaked in the hot wind. Then an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes

and penetrated into me to the very shuddering heart; I grabbed the crane

injector, but the pain in my heart had already left me, and I immediately looked into

maltsev's side - he looked ahead and drove the car without changing his face.

What was it? I asked the stoker.

Lightning, ”he said. - I wanted to hit us, but a little

missed.

Maltsev heard our words.

What kind of lightning? he asked loudly.

Now she was, - said the fireman.

I did not see, - said Maltsev and again turned his face outward.

Have not seen! - the fireman was surprised. - I thought - the boiler exploded, how

lit up, but he did not see.

I also doubted that it was lightning.

Where's the thunder? I asked.

We drove through the thunder, - explained the fireman. - Thunder always hits after.

While he hit, while the air swayed, while here and there, we are already away from him

flew by. The passengers may have heard - they are behind.

the dark steppe, above which the meek, worked

It got dark altogether, and came good night... We smelled raw

the earth, the fragrance of herbs and breads saturated with rain and thunderstorm, and rushed

forward, catching up with time.

I noticed that Maltsev began to drive worse - on the curves of us

threw, the speed reached more than a hundred kilometers, then decreased

up to forty. I decided that Alexander Vasilievich, probably, was very worried, and

so I didn't say anything to him, although it was very difficult for me to keep in

the best mode of operation of the furnace and boiler with this behavior of the mechanic. but

in half an hour we have to stop to get water, and there, at the bus stop,

Alexander Vasilyevich will eat and rest a little. We have already caught up with forty minutes,

and we will catch up to the end of our traction section for at least another hour.

The meaning of the title of the story by A. P. Platonov "In a beautiful and furious world"

Andrei Platonovich Platonov lived a difficult life full of hardships. “I lived and languished, because life immediately turned me from a child into an adult human logo, depriving me of my youth,” he wrote to his wife. Nevertheless, the writer's heart was not hardened. This is evidenced by such works as the story "In a beautiful and furious world."

The plot of the story boils down to an incident that happened to the machinist Maltsev. During one of the trips on a steam locomotive, he becomes blind from a lightning strike, and then regains his sight. And although the disaster of a steam locomotive is miraculously avoided, Maltsev is being prosecuted. The narrator Kostya, who served as his assistant, tries to help the convicted machinist. But as a result of the experiment with electricity, Maltsev goes blind again. Kostya becomes a machinist and takes the liberated but blind Maltsev into one of the rides. Sitting in the driver's cab and remembering his favorite job, Maltsev regains the ability to see.

The author called the world beautiful and furious. He's really beautiful. Kostya is happy to talk about how wonderful a machinist Maltsev was, how he drove a locomotive, what a pleasure it was to work with such a person. “He led the lineup with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the focus of an inspired artist,” he “understood the machine more accurately” than others. However, Maltsev's perfection oppressed him, he felt lonely.

Maltsev faced rage, the element of the world during a thunderstorm, when he could not control the locomotive. All his skill was useless. The forces of nature were beyond the control of man. A dusty whirlwind, a thundercloud rushed towards the locomotive. “Let us drink the light around us; dry earth and sand of the steppe began to whistle against the iron body of the locomotive. It became difficult for people to breathe, and the locomotive could not break through the dust and wind.

What happened changed Maltsev. His self-confidence disappeared, he turned into a sick old man. Maltsev missed steam locomotives very much and spent all the time sitting near the railway.

Having regained his sight, Maltsev began to see everything differently. Now he needed the participation, the warmth of other people. The narrator spent the whole night with the recovered Maltsev, afraid to leave him alone with a beautiful and furious world.

What would have happened to Maltsev if that misfortune had not happened to him? He would continue to lead an ideal life, but lonely, boring, devoid of spiritual intimacy with other people. And the surrounding world is so beautiful that a particle remains in it that is not subject to man.

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The main character of the story, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev, was considered the best locomotive driver in the depot. He was quite young - about thirty years old - but already had the status of a first class driver. And no one was surprised when he was assigned to a brand new and very powerful

IS passenger steam locomotive. It was "reasonable and correct". The storyteller became Maltsev's assistant. He was extremely pleased with the fact that he got on this IS car - the only one in the depot.

Maltsev showed practically no feelings towards the new assistant, although he closely watched his work. The narrator was always amazed that after checking the machine and its lubrication, Maltsev himself rechecked and lubricated everything again. The narrator was often annoyed at this oddity in the behavior of the driver, he believed that he was simply not trusted, but then he got used to it. Under the noise of the wheels, he forgot about his insult, carried away by the instruments. Often

He looked at how Maltsev was driving the car with inspiration. It was like playing an actor. Maltsev closely followed not only the road, but managed to enjoy the beauty of nature, and even a small sparrow caught in the air stream from a steam locomotive did not escape his gaze.

The work was always done in silence. And only sometimes Maltsev tapped the key on the boiler, "wanting me to turn my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine ...". The narrator says that he worked very hard, but the attitude of the driver to him was exactly the same as to the grease fireman, and he still carefully checked all the details for his assistant. Once, unable to resist, the narrator asked Maltsev why he was rechecking everything after him. "But I myself want to," replied Maltsev with a smile, and there was sadness in his smile that struck me. " Later, the reason for this sadness became clear: "he felt his superiority in front of us, because he understood the machine more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or someone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, feeling at the same moment the path, the weight of the train and the effort of the machine. " So, he was just bored alone with his talent.

Once the narrator asked Maltsev to allow him to drive the car a little, but his car was thrown around the turns, the climbs were overcome slowly, and very soon he was four minutes late. As soon as control passed into the hands of the driver himself, the delay was overtaken.

The narrator worked for Maltsev for about a year, when the tragic story happened ... Maltsev's car took a train of eighty passenger axles, which were already going three hours late. Maltsev's task was to shorten this time as much as possible, at least by an hour.

We set off. The car was working almost to the limit, and the speed was not less than ninety kilometers per hour.

The train rode towards a huge cloud, inside which everything bubbled and flashed lightning. Soon a vortex of dust captured the driver's cab, almost nothing was visible. Suddenly lightning struck: "An instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes and penetrated into me to the very shuddering heart; I grabbed the tap of the injector, but the pain in my heart had already left me." The narrator looked at Maltsev: he did not even change his face. As it turned out, he did not even see the lightning.

Soon the train passed the downpour that began after the lightning, and left for the steppe. The narrator noticed that Maltsev began to drive the car worse: at bends, the train was thrown, the speed either decreased or sharply increased. Apparently, the driver was just tired.

Preoccupied with malfunctions in electrical appliances, the narrator did not notice that the train was racing under the red warning signals. Already the wheels were knocking on the firecrackers. "We are crushing firecrackers!" - shouted the narrator and reached for the controls. "Away!" - exclaimed Maltsev and put on the brakes.

The locomotive stopped. Another steam locomotive is about ten meters away from it, its driver was waving with all his might a red poker hot on the fire, giving a signal. This meant that while the narrator turned away, Maltsev drove first under the yellow, then under the red semaphore, and you never know what other signals. Why didn't he stop? "Kostya!" Alexander Vasilyevich called me.

I went up to him. - Kostya! What's ahead of us? - I explained to him.

The narrator brought the dejected Maltsev home. Near the house, he asked to be left alone. To the narrator's objections, he replied: "Now I see, go home ..." And indeed, he saw his wife come out to meet him. Kostya decided to check him up and asked if his wife's head was covered with a headscarf or not. And having received the correct answer, he left the driver.

Maltsev was put on trial. The narrator tried his best to justify his superior. But the fact that Maltsev endangered not only his own life, but the lives of thousands of people, could not forgive him. Why did the blind Maltsev not transfer control to another? Why took such a risk?

The narrator will ask the same questions to Maltsev.

"I was used to seeing the light, and I thought I saw it, but I saw it then only in my mind, in my imagination. In fact, I was blind, but I didn’t know that. I didn’t believe in firecrackers either, although I heard them: I thought I had misheard. And when you gave the stop beeps and shouted to me, I saw a green signal ahead, I did not immediately guess. " The narrator reacted with understanding to the words of Maltsev.

The next year, the storyteller takes the train driver exams. Every time, leaving for the road, checking the car, he sees Maltsev sitting on a painted bench. He leaned on a cane and turned his face with empty blind eyes towards the locomotive. "Away!" - he only spoke to all the attempts of the narrator to console him. But one day Kostya invited Maltsev to go with him: "Tomorrow at ten thirty I will drive the train. If you sit quietly, I will take you into the car." Maltsev agreed.

The next day, the narrator invited Maltsev to the car. The blind man was ready to obey, so he humbly promised not to touch anything, but only to obey. The driver put one hand on the reverse, and the other on the brake lever, and put his hands on top to help. On the way back we went the same way. Already on the way to his destination, the narrator saw a yellow traffic light, but decided to check his teacher and walked to yellow at full speed.

"I see yellow light," Maltsev said. "Or maybe you just imagine again that you see the light!" - answered the narrator. Then Maltsev turned his face to him and began to cry.

He finished the car without help. And in the evening the narrator went with Maltsev to his home and for a long time could not leave him alone, "like his own son, without protection against the action of sudden and hostile forces of our beautiful and furious world."

In the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilievich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.

He was thirty years old, but he already had the qualification of a first class driver and had driven fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger steam locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. An elderly man from the depot locksmiths named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov worked as an assistant for Maltsev, but he soon passed the exam for a driver and went to work for another machine, and instead of Drabanov I was assigned to work in Maltsev's brigade as an assistant; before that I also worked as an assistant mechanic, but only on an old, low-power machine.

I was pleased with my appointment. The IS machine, which was the only one on our traction section at that time, just by its appearance aroused a feeling of inspiration in me: I could look at it for a long time, and a special moved joy awakened in me, just as beautiful as in childhood when I first read Pushkin's poems. In addition, I wanted to work in a brigade of a first-class mechanic to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.

Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently: he apparently didn’t care who would be his assistants.

Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its service and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me he checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.

This was repeated afterwards, and I was already used to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my grief. Distracting my attention from the instruments monitoring the state of the running steam locomotive, from observing the operation of the left car and the track ahead, I looked at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who absorbed the entire external world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich's eyes looked ahead, as if empty, abstracted, but I knew that he saw them all the way ahead and all nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow swept from the ballast slope by the wind piercing the space of the car, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev's gaze , and for a moment he turned his head after the sparrow: what will become of him after us, where did he fly?

It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we were often detained at intermediate stations, which we must proceed on the move, because we were walking with a surge of time, and we, through delays, were put back on schedule.

We usually worked in silence; only occasionally did Alexander Vasilyevich, without turning in my direction, bang the key on the boiler, wanting me to turn my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or preparing me for a sharp change in this mode, so that I was alert. I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with full zeal, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as the grease fireman, aloof and constantly checking grease nipples at parking lots, tightening the bolts in the drawbar assemblies, tested the axle boxes on the leading axles and so on. If I had just inspected and oiled any working rubbing part, Maltsev followed me again inspecting and oiled, as if he did not consider my work to be valid.

I, Alexander Vasilievich, have already checked this crosshead, - I told him once, when he began to check this detail after me.

And I myself want to, - smiling, replied Maltsev, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.

Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant indifference to us. He felt his superiority in front of us, because he understood the machine more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing at the same time a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, feeling at the same moment the way, composition weight and machine force. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence, we could even overcome him, but he could not imagine that we loved the steam locomotive better and drove trains better than him - he thought it was impossible. And Maltsev was therefore sad with us; he missed his talent, as if he were alone, not knowing how to express it so that we could understand.

And we really could not understand his skills. I once asked for permission to lead the train on my own: Alexander Vasilyevich allowed me to drive forty kilometers and sat down in the assistant's place. I drove the train - and after twenty kilometers I already had four minutes late, and overcame exits from long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took ascents at a speed of fifty kilometers, and on curves he did not throw the car, like mine, and he soon caught up with the time I had lost.

II

For about a year I worked as an assistant for Maltsev, from August to July, and on July 5, Maltsev made his last trip as a driver of a courier train ...

We took a train of eighty passenger axles, which was four hours late on the way. The dispatcher went to the locomotive and specifically asked Alexander Vasilyevich to reduce the delay of the train as much as possible, to reduce this delay to at least three hours, otherwise it would be difficult for him to issue an empty truck to the next road. Maltsev promised him to catch up with time, and we set off ahead.

It was eight o'clock in the afternoon, but the summer day was still going on, and the sun was shining with solemn morning strength. Alexander Vasilievich demanded from me to keep the steam pressure in the boiler only half an atmosphere below the limit.

In half an hour we went out into the steppe on a calm, soft profile. Maltsev brought the speed to ninety kilometers and did not give up below, - on the contrary, on the horizontal and small slopes he brought the speed to one hundred kilometers. On the ascents, I forced the firebox to its maximum capacity and forced the stoker to manually load the shurovka to help the stockker machine, because my steam was getting low.

Maltsev drove the car forward, moving the regulator to the full arc and giving the reverse to full cutoff. We were now walking towards a powerful cloud that appeared over the horizon. From our side the cloud was illuminated by the sun, and from within it fierce, irritated lightning tore, and we saw how the lightning swords pierced vertically into the silent distant land, and we rushed madly towards that distant land, as if in a hurry to protect it. Alexander Vasilyevich, apparently, was carried away by this sight: he leaned far out of the window, looking ahead, and his eyes, accustomed to smoke, to fire and space, were now sparkling with enthusiasm. He understood that the work and power of our machine could be compared with the work of a thunderstorm, and maybe he was proud of this idea.

Soon we noticed a dusty whirlwind rushing across the steppe towards us. This means that the storm cloud was carried head-on by the storm. The light darkened around us: dry earth and steppe sand whistled and screeched over the iron body of the locomotive, there was no visibility, and I turned on the turbodynamo for lighting and turned on the frontal searchlight in front of the locomotive. It was now difficult for us to breathe from the hot dusty whirlwind that was hammered into the cabin and doubled in its strength by the oncoming traffic of the car, from the flue gases and the early dusk that surrounded us. The locomotive howled its way forward into the dim, stifling darkness into the gap of light created by the frontal searchlight. The speed dropped to sixty kilometers; we worked and looked ahead as in a dream.

Suddenly a large drop hit the windshield and immediately dried up, drenched by the hot wind. Then an instant blue light flashed against my eyelashes and penetrated me to my very shaking heart. I grabbed the tap of the injector, but the pain in my heart had already left me, and I immediately looked towards Maltsev - he looked ahead and drove the car, without changing his face.

What was it? I asked the stoker.

Lightning, ”he said. - She wanted to hit us, but she missed a little.

Maltsev heard our words.

What kind of lightning? he asked loudly.

Now she was, - said the fireman.

I did not see, - said Maltsev and again turned his face outward.

Have not seen? - the fireman was surprised. - I thought the cauldron exploded when it was shining, but he didn't see.

I also doubted that it was lightning.

Where's the thunder? I asked.

We drove through the thunder, - explained the fireman. - Thunder always hits after. While he hit, while the air swayed, while back and forth, we flew away from him. The passengers may have heard - they are behind.

It got dark altogether, and a quiet night came. We smelled raw earth, the fragrance of herbs and breads saturated with rain and thunderstorm, and rushed forward, catching up with time.

I noticed that Maltsev began to drive the car worse - on curves we were thrown, the speed reached more than a hundred kilometers, then dropped to forty. I decided that Alexander Vasilyevich was probably very worn out, and therefore did not say anything to him, although it was very difficult for me to keep the furnace and boiler operating in the best possible mode with such behavior of the mechanic. However, in half an hour we have to stop to get water, and there, at the stop, Alexander Vasilyevich will eat and rest a little. We have already caught up with forty minutes, and we will catch up to the end of our traction section for at least another hour.

Nevertheless, I was worried about Maltsev's fatigue and began to myself carefully look ahead - at the path and at the signals. On my side, above the left car, an electric lamp burned in the air, illuminating the waving, drawbar mechanism. I clearly saw the intense, confident work of the left-hand car, but then the lamp above it went out and began to burn poorly, like one candle. I turned to the cockpit. There, too, all the lamps were now burning at a quarter of the incandescence, barely illuminating the devices. It is strange that Alexander Vasilyevich did not knock on my key at this moment to indicate such a disorder. It was clear that the turbo dynamo did not give the design speed and the voltage dropped. I began to regulate the turbodynamo through the steam line and fiddled with this device for a long time, but the voltage did not rise.

At this time, a hazy cloud of red light passed over the dials of the instruments and the ceiling of the cockpit. I looked out.

Ahead in the darkness — near or far, it was impossible to tell — a red streak of light waved across our path. I didn't understand what it was, but I understood what to do.

Alexander Vasilievich! - I shouted and gave three beeps to stop.

There were explosions of firecrackers under the tires of our wheels. I rushed to Maltsev, he turned his face to me and looked at me with empty, dead eyes. The arrow on the tachometer dial showed a speed of sixty kilometers.

Maltsev! I shouted. “We're pushing firecrackers!” And I stretched out my hands to the controls.

Away! - exclaimed Maltsev, and his eyes shone, reflecting the light of a dim lamp above the tachometer.

He instantly gave emergency braking and reversed reverse.

I was pressed against the boiler, I heard the howling of the wheel rims, stripping the rails.

Maltsev! - I said. - We need to open the cylinder taps, we will break the car.

Do not! We will not break! - answered Maltsev.

We stopped. I pumped water into the boiler with an injector and looked out. Ahead of us, about ten meters away, a steam locomotive stood on our line, with a tender in our direction. There was a man on the tender; in his hands was a long poker, red-hot at the end, and he waved it, wanting to stop the express train. This locomotive was the pusher of a freight train that stopped on the stretch.

So, while I was adjusting the turbodynamo and not looking ahead, we passed the yellow traffic light, and then the red one, and probably more than one warning signal of the trackmen. But why did Maltsev not notice these signals?

Kostya! - Alexander Vasilievich called me.

I went up to him.

Kostya! .. What's ahead of us?

The next day I brought the return train to my station and handed over the locomotive to the depot, because the tires on two slopes on it had slightly shifted. Having reported to the head of the depot about the incident, I took Maltsev by the arm to his place of residence; Maltsev himself was deeply depressed and did not go to the head of the depot.

We had not yet reached that house on a grassy street in which Maltsev lived, when he asked me to leave him alone.

You can't, - I answered. - You, Alexander Vasilievich, are a blind man.

He looked at me with clear, thinking eyes.

Now I see, go home ... I see everything - over there my wife came out to meet me.

At the gate of the house where Maltsev lived, a woman, the wife of Alexander Vasilyevich, was really waiting, and her open black hair glittered in the sun.

Is her head covered or without everything? I asked.

Without, - answered Maltsev. - Who is blind - you or me?

Well, if you see, then look, - I decided and walked away from Maltsev.

III

Maltsev was put on trial, and an investigation began. An investigator called me and asked what I thought about the incident with the express train. I replied that I thought that Maltsev was not to blame.

He was blinded by a close discharge, by a lightning strike, ”I told the investigator. - He was wounded, and the nerves that control vision were damaged ... I do not know how to say it exactly.

I understand you, - said the investigator, - you say exactly. This is all possible, but not reliable. After all, Maltsev himself showed that he had not seen lightning.

And I saw her, and the oiler saw her too.

This means that the lightning struck closer to you than to Maltsev, the investigator reasoned. - Why are you and the lubricator not shell-shocked, not blinded, and the driver Maltsev received a concussion of the optic nerves and went blind? What do you think?

I became stumped, and then thought.

Maltsev could not see the lightning, - I said.

The investigator listened to me in surprise.

He could not see her. He went blind instantly - from the impact of an electromagnetic wave that goes ahead of the lightning light. Lightning light is a consequence of a discharge, not a cause of lightning. Maltsev was already blind when the lightning flashed, and the blind could not see the light.

Interesting! - the investigator smiled. - I would have dropped Maltsev's case if he were still blind. But you know, now he sees just like you and me.

He sees, - I confirmed.

Was he blind, the investigator continued, when he was driving a courier train at great speed to the tail of a freight train?

Was, - I confirmed.

The investigator looked at me closely.

Why didn't he transfer control of the locomotive to you or, according to at least, didn’t tell you to stop the train?

I don't know, I said.

You see, - said the investigator. - An adult, conscientious person drives a steam locomotive of a courier train, carries hundreds of people to certain death, accidentally avoids a disaster, and then justifies himself by the fact that he was blind. What it is?

But he himself would have died! I say.

Probably. However, I am more interested in the lives of hundreds of people than in the life of one person. Maybe he had his own reasons for dying.

There was no, - I said.

The investigator became indifferent; he was already bored of me like a fool.

You know everything except the main thing, ”he said in slow thought. - You can go.

From the investigator, I went to Maltsev's apartment.

Alexander Vasilyevich, - I told him, - why didn't you call me for help when you were blind?

And I saw, - he answered. - Why did I need you?

What did you saw?

Everything: the line, signals, wheat in the steppe, the work of the right car - I saw everything ...

I was puzzled.

How did it happen with you? You drove all the warnings, you went straight to the tail of another train ...

The former first class mechanic thought sadly and answered me quietly, as to himself:

I was used to seeing light, and I thought I saw it, but I saw it then only in my mind, in my imagination. In fact, I was blind, but I did not know that ... I didn’t believe in firecrackers either, although I heard them: I thought I had misheard. And when you gave the stop beeps and yelled at me, I saw a green signal ahead. I didn't know right away.

Now I understood Maltsev, but I didn’t know why he wouldn’t tell the investigator about that - that, after he went blind, he saw the world in his imagination for a long time and believed in its reality. And I asked Alexander Vasilyevich about this.

And I told him, - answered Maltsev.

What is he?

This, he says, was your imagination; maybe you are imagining something even now, I don’t know. I, he says, need to establish the facts, not your imagination or suspiciousness. Your imagination - whether it was or not - I cannot verify, it was only in your head, these are your words, and the crash that almost happened is an action.

He's right, I said.

I’m right, I know myself, - agreed the driver. - And I am also right, not guilty. What will happen now?

I didn't know how to answer him.

IV

Maltsev was sent to prison. I still drove as an assistant, but only with another driver - a cautious old man who braked the train another kilometer before the yellow traffic light, and when we approached it, the signal changed to green, and the old man again began to drag the train forward. It was not a job - I missed Maltsev.

In the winter I was in a regional town and visited my brother, a student, who lived in a university dormitory. My brother told me in the middle of the conversation that they have a Tesla device in the physics laboratory for producing artificial lightning at their university. Some consideration occurred to me, not yet clear to myself.

Returning home, I thought about my guess regarding the Tesla installation and decided that my idea was correct. I wrote a letter to the investigator in charge of the Maltsev case at one time, with a request to test the prisoner Maltsev for his exposure to electrical discharges. If the susceptibility of Maltsev's psyche or his visual organs to the action of nearby sudden electrical discharges is proved, then Maltsev's case must be reconsidered. I pointed out to the investigator where the Tesla installation is located and how to perform the experiment on a person.

The investigator did not answer me for a long time, but then he said that the regional prosecutor had agreed to carry out the expert examination I had proposed in the university physics laboratory.

A few days later the investigator summoned me. I came to him agitated, confident in advance that the Maltsev case was a happy solution.

The investigator greeted me, but was silent for a long time, slowly reading some paper with sad eyes; I was losing hope.

You let your friend down, ”the investigator then said.

What? Is the verdict the same?

No, we released Maltsev. The order has already been given - perhaps Maltsev is already at home.

Thank you. - I got to my feet in front of the investigator.

And we will not thank you. You gave bad advice: Maltsev is blind again ...

I sat down on a chair in fatigue, my soul instantly burned out, and I wanted to drink.

The experts, without warning, in the dark, conducted Maltsev under the Tesla installation, the investigator told me. - The current was switched on, a lightning occurred, and a sharp blow was heard. Maltsev passed calmly, but now he again does not see the light - this was established objectively, by a forensic medical examination.

Now he again sees the world only in his imagination ... You are his friend, help him.

Maybe his sight will return to him again, - I expressed hope, as it was then, after the locomotive ...

The investigator thought.

Hardly. Then there was the first injury, now the second. The wound was inflicted on the wounded place.

And, not holding back any longer, the investigator got up and began to walk around the room in agitation.

It is my fault ... Why did I obey you and, like a fool, insisted on an examination! I risked a man, but he could not bear the risk.

You are not guilty, you did not risk anything, - I consoled the investigator. - Which is better - a free blind person or a sighted, but innocent prisoner?

I didn’t know that I would have to prove a person's innocence through his misfortune, ”said the investigator. - It's too expensive a price.

You are an investigator, - I explained to him, - you should know everything about a person - and even what he does not know about himself.

I understand you, you are right, ”the investigator said quietly.

Don't worry, comrade investigator. Here the facts acted within a person, and you were looking for them only outside. But you managed to understand your flaw and acted with Maltsev as a noble man. I respect you.

Me too, - the investigator confessed. - You know, an assistant investigator could come out of you.

Thank you, but I'm busy, I'm the assistant train driver on a courier train.

I left. I was not a friend of Maltsev, and he always treated me without attention and care. But I wanted to protect him from the grief of fate, I was bitter against the fatal forces, accidentally and indifferently destroying a person; I sensed a secret, elusive calculation of these forces in the fact that they were destroying Maltsev, and, say, not me. I understood that in nature there is no such calculation in our human, mathematical sense, but I saw that there are facts proving the existence of disastrous circumstances hostile to human life, and these disastrous forces crush the chosen, exalted people. I decided not to give up, because I felt something in myself that could not be in the external forces of nature and in our fate, I felt my peculiarity as a person. And I became bitter and decided to resist, I myself did not yet know how to do it.

V

The next summer, I passed the exam for the title of a machinist and began to ride on my own on a steam locomotive of the SU series, working on local passenger traffic.

And almost always, when I brought the locomotive to the train, which stood at the station platform, I saw Maltsev sitting on a painted bench. Leaning his hand on a cane placed between his legs, he turned his passionate, sensitive face with empty, blind eyes towards the locomotive, and eagerly breathed in the smell of burning and lubricating oil, and attentively listened to the rhythmic work of the steam-air pump. I had nothing to console him with, and I left, but he stayed.

Summer went on; I worked on a steam locomotive and often saw Alexander Vasilyevich not only at the station platform, but also met him on the street, when he walked slowly, feeling the road with his cane. He has grown haggard and aged lately; he lived in prosperity - he was assigned a pension, his wife worked, they had no children, but longing, lifeless fate devoured Alexander Vasilyevich, and his body grew thin from constant grief. I sometimes talked to him, but I saw that it was boring for him to talk about trifles and to be content with my kind consolation, that a blind person is also a fully-fledged, full-fledged person.

Away! - he said, after listening to my benevolent words.

But I, too, was an angry person, and when, as was customary, he once ordered me to leave, I told him:

Tomorrow at ten thirty I will lead the train. If you sit still, I'll take you to the car.

Maltsev agreed:

Okay. I will be meek. Give me something in there, let the reverse hold: I won't twist it.

You won't twist it! - I confirmed. “If you twist it, I’ll give you a piece of coal, and I’ll never take it on the locomotive again.”

The blind man was silent; he so wanted to be on the train again that he resigned himself to me.

The next day I invited him from a painted bench to a steam locomotive and went down to meet him to help him get into the cabin.

When we moved forward, I put Alexander Vasilyevich in my driver's seat, I put one of his hands on the reverse and the other on the brake machine and put my hands on top of his hands. I moved my hands as it should, and his hands worked too. Maltsev sat silently and listened to me, enjoying the movement of the car, the wind in his face and work. He concentrated, forgot his grief of the blind man, and a meek joy illuminated the haggard face of this man, for whom the feeling of a machine was bliss.

We drove to the opposite end in the same way: Maltsev was sitting in the mechanic's place, and I stood, bending over, next to him and held my hands on his arms. Maltsev had already gotten used to working in such a way that a light pressure on his hand was enough for me - and he accurately felt my demand. The former, perfect master of the machine sought to overcome his lack of vision and feel the world by other means in order to work and justify his life.

In quiet areas, I completely moved away from Maltsev and looked ahead from the side of the assistant.

We were already on the way to Tolubeev; our next flight ended safely, and we went on time. But on the last stretch, a yellow traffic light shone towards us. I did not prematurely cut the speed and walked to the traffic light with open steam. Maltsev sat quietly, keeping his left hand on the reverse; I looked at my teacher with secret expectation ...

Shut off the steam! - Maltsev told me.

I said nothing, worried with all my heart.

Then Maltsev got up, reached out to the regulator and closed the steam.

I see a yellow light, ”he said and pulled the brake lever toward him.

Or maybe you just imagine again that you see the light? - I said to Maltsev.

He turned his face to me and began to cry. I went up to him and kissed him back.

Drive the car to the end, Alexander Vasilievich: now you see the whole world!

He drove the car to Tolubeev without my help. After work, I went with Maltsev to his apartment, and we sat with him all evening and all night.

I was afraid to leave him alone, like my own son, without protection against the action of the sudden and hostile forces of our beautiful and furious world.