"The Recluse and the Six-Fingered" - the story of Viktor Pelevin (1990). Genre: philosophical parable, satire. First published (with abbreviations) in the journal "Chemistry and Life" in 1990, in number 3.

Plot

The main characters of the story are two broiler chickens named Zatvornik and Six-fingered, which are raised for slaughter at the Lunacharsky combine (poultry farm). As it turns out from the narrative, the chick community has a rather complex hierarchical structure depending on the proximity to the feeder.

The plot of the story is the expulsion of Six-Fingered from society. Torn away from society and the feeding trough, Six-Fingered is confronted by the Recluse, a philosopher chicken and natural scientist wandering between different societies within the plant. Thanks to his outstanding intellect, he was able to independently master the language of the "gods" (that is, the Russian language), learned to read the time by the clock and realized that chickens hatch from eggs, although he himself did not see it.

Six-fingered becomes a disciple and companion of the Recluse. Together they travel from world to world, accumulating and generalizing knowledge and experience. The highest goal of the Recluse is the comprehension of some mysterious phenomenon called "flight". The recluse believes: having mastered flight, he will be able to escape from the plant's universe. It is the achievements of gifted individuals, literally opposed to dense collectivism, that lead to an optimistic end.

Lesson summary in 10th grade on the topic

“The problem of happiness and the meaning of life in V. Pelevin's story“ The Hermit and the Six-Fingered ”.

Lesson form - extracurricular reading lesson.

This lesson can be taught after studying the novel by I. S. Turgenev "Fathers and Sons" or after studying the poem by N. A. Nekrasov "Who Lives Well in Russia?"

Lesson type - learning new material.

Working methods in the lesson: heuristic, research method, creative reading method, literary conversation, independent work, creating small presentations.

Computer support for a lesson in the form of a multimedia presentation allows you to achieve the following goals:

Create an emotional mood during the lesson;

To make the perception of the material more visible, complete, to broaden the horizons of students;

Analyze episodes of the story in an unusual way in order to visualize the world of the story;

It is more clear and accurate to work with theoretical material and lexical work;

Optimize lesson time, use it more efficiently.

Goal:analysis of the story of the modern writer V. Pelevin "The Hermit and the Six-fingered."

Tasks:	1.to achieve a deep understanding of the ideological content of the story; 2. improve the skills of episode analysis, character characteristics; 3. with the help of lexical work, draw on the significance of each word in a work of fiction; 4. to connect classical literature with modern: the concept of "eternal" themes; 5. pay attention to the innovative nature of V. Pelevin's prose.
	Developing: 1. develop expressive reading skills; 2. develop independence of thought; 3. develop creativity, the ability to solve non-standard tasks; 4. improve the skills of oral monologue.
	Educational: 1. to make you think about the meaning of life, about happiness, about love, responsibility, etc .; 2. to educate an active life position; 3. instill a love of reading.

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On the subject: methodological developments, presentations and notes

Development of an English lesson in grade 2 and presentation to it "Theater tour. Reading the letter Yy at the end of a word"

The material includes a technological map of the lesson, a presentation and additional material to it. Lesson - repetition of material on the topic "Description of animals" ....

In recent decades, educational and research activities have become one of the priority areas of the educational process. It is interesting to trace how the main principles that determine the work of a young researcher and his leader are implemented. We offer the experience of a reflexive analysis of a study on literature carried out by a ninth-grader Nastya I. on the topic Dialogue of Cultures in V. Pelevin's story "The Recluse and the Six-fingered." The manager's comments accompanying fragments of this work allow us to correlate the final result and the living process of the adolescent's immersion in philological science. One should start with what the builders call "zero cycle". In this case, it is the adult leader's clear awareness of the difference between an educational research and an educational project. A project participant creates a certain product - something that does not yet exist. The researcher cognizes what exists, offering his concept, his understanding of the existing reality. Looking back at Nastya's path, one can outline the landmarks without which scientific activity in general is impossible, and once again clarify the points that are significant for educational research. Outline - clarify - and move on, storming new creative heights!

Dialogue of cultures in V. Pelevin's story "The Hermit and the Six-fingered" Research work (fragments) on the literature of the 9th grade student of the State Budgetary Educational Institution of Secondary School No. 1108, Moscow, Anastasia I.

Teacher comments:

Motivation stage. The very beginning. There is no work yet, no topic. Nastya wants to talk about the book she read in the summer and which surprised. Motivation is the most important component of scientific activity. And self-interest is a very strong motive! It turns out that the teacher also likes the works of the early Pelevin. It is important that the leader acts not only as a mentor, but also as a co-talker, co-participant. Tip: do not be afraid to refer to the work of modern authors! They, as a rule, are included in the circle of the teenager's reading interests and have not yet acquired the armor of authoritative interpretations, which means that the young researcher will be free in his assessments and judgments.

The stage of accumulation of primary information (viewing and introductory reading). Seeing Nastya's interest in the story, the teacher advises to learn more about the author. Collection of material begins. The writer turns out to be an iconic figure - motivation intensifies! There is a meeting with the new concept of "postmodernism", which had to be devoted to a separate consultation. (Working on an individual basis is the key to success!) Nastya was faced with the mention of various sources on which Pelevin relies. I got interested. The direction of research is outlined.

Introduction

V. Pelevin is a brilliant contemporary writer, a representative of Russian postmodernism. His books have been translated into all world languages, including Japanese and Chinese. According to French Magazin, Pelevin is included in the list of 1000 most significant figures of modern culture. In 2009, this author was named the most influential intellectual in Russia according to an OpenSpace.ru poll. The writer engages in conversation with his readers on several levels, addressing both the mass audience and the literary connoisseurs. At the same time, critics do not give an unambiguous assessment of Pelevin's work.

The stage of identifying the problem. Nastya has collected a lot of scattered observations and comments about Pelevin's story, although this extensive material still resembles a shapeless lump. On the basis of what she had read, the girl had some ideas of her own. Clearly, chaotic facts must be organized in some way. This raises the problem of identifying systemic connections within the Pelevin text. This is the most important point, because there is no research without a problem! The task of the leader is to teach the young researcher to ask himself the questions "why?", "Why?" - develop critical thinking. The problem of educational research should be quite narrow. In this case, it is not the scale that is important, but the detail of the study. The teacher leads Nastya to the idea that the system (whatever it may be!) Cannot be formed by chance. So, with the help of an adult, the girl formulates a certain hypothesis.

The work is dedicated to Pelevin's story "The Hermit and the Six-fingered." Most readers pay attention to the unusual plot twist of the work, on the topic of spiritual liberation, rarely considering that Pelevin is a representative of postmodernism. In this case, parallels with other works, cultural phenomena present in the final text are especially important. The purpose of this study is to identify systemic connections between various elements of other people's texts, reminiscences and allusions present in Pelevin's story "The Recluse and the Six-fingered", with the specification and detailing of the parallels already identified. To achieve this goal, the following tasks were solved: the study of the genre features of the work and the analysis of the structure of its images. Comparative and analytical methods were used. Works of folklore, Russian and foreign literature, and religious texts were used as material for comparison. Work in this direction made it possible to test the following hypothesis: the combination of various cultural layers is a way of expressing the author's position and the author's view of the world.

The stage of accumulation of basic information, processing and interpretation of data (learning reading)

Genre features of the story

First of all, there is a connection with the fairy tale. Here, as in a fairy tale,there is the hero's wanderings, a happy ending. The reader sees the transformation of the "low"hero into a "good fellow".

The student needs to show that the language of science is the language of terms, and help to use them correctly. Scientific information requires a certain speech design, therefore, already at the stage of rough sketches, it was important to help Nastya edit the text in the right way. It is necessary to teach how to correctly draw up footnotes and references (they are absent in the printed version).

Fairy tale motives are organized according to a principle that can be called a principlebinary pom (from Latin binarius - double). Lining up a couple: fairy tale folklorenaya is a literary fairy tale. Moreover, first, the reader catches a connection with literarya fairy tale. The story that happened to Six-Fingered is reminiscent of what happened to the uglyandersen's duckling. The six-fingered relatives are expelled because it does not look like them.He's a nasty chicken. We guess it's not just six-fingered. Herothe other internally, he thinks, reflects on the essence of the universe. Andersen has actionbegins in the poultry yard, near Pelevin, the scene is a broiler plant.Heroes here and there are birds. Both the duckling and the six-fingered roam in search of happiness, explorepeace, find mentors. Only Andersen has a cat, a chicken, wild geese - these are teachersfalse, and the Recluse carries the truth. The ending is similar. The characters tower over the uniwho gave them a society. The duckling will become a wonderful swan. The six-fingered will passtwo steps. First, a pseudo transformation, when he is mistaken for the messenger of the Gods, andthen the real one, connected with flight and liberation from captivity.

Other researchers have pointed to a parallel with Andersen. Nastya's task was to provide maximum detail. Revealing a parallel with a folk tale - Nastin contributed to the study of the story. The leader helps to see those nodal points where it is possible to enter another text (the image of One-Eye), and a young researcher leads the development of the material.

With the development of the plot, motives appear in the story that bring it closer to the fairy talefolklore. As in folk tales, the motive of two worlds arises. The hero commitstravel to the kingdom of the dead, then returning to "their" world. Pelevin has a kingdomthe dead are given as a basement where the One-eyed rat goes. One-eyed in Slavicmythology is associated with share, fate. And here the rat invites the chickens to changehis fate by going with her. However, the kingdom of the dead can be consideredalso Workshop number one. Death reigns here. There is no real light, no sun. Toescape from the realm of the dead, the fairytale hero must pass the tests, I completefighting with a snake, Koschei or a monster. In the story, the battle is with people,appearing in the form of cruel creatures. They are called Gods, and this emphasizesthat we have before us supernatural objects. Such as Miracle Yudo for Ivan Tsarevich.

New literary material for the ninth-grader was recommended by the head. Nastya mastered it. Then she received a consultation on the topic "Dystopia". Nastin's readers' baggage has been seriously enriched!

Another binary genre link arises in the story: a fairy tale - a dystopia.Dystopia "argues" with a utopia that talks about an ideal society, admirationbeing his intelligent device. Dystopia shows how awful this "ideal"(wonderful) social structure. Pelevin has a parallel with dystopia inepisodes where it is about the chicken community. I remember Zamyatin's novel "We".Chickens have Twenty Closest, in the state of Zamyatin - Guardians. Both there and hereart is a few rhymed creations that cannot be called poetry. INthe bird society is preparing for the "decisive stage", for people the launch of Integral isbreakthrough, "great, historic hour." In workshop number one at the trough "a huge galthe giving crowd "; "We", not "me". Everyone here is happy: both those who are at the trough and those wholife is waiting, because they have something to hope for in life. " “This is harmony andunity". The members of the United State in Zamyatin's novel also speak of a general obligationmeaningful happiness and unity. Both Zamyatin and Pelevin understand that the values \u200b\u200bproclaimedtainted by such a society, false. The author's irony is connected with this. Present atPelevin and a hint of Orwell's story "Animal Farm". Community of pigs and chickensociety is united by a lack of spirituality, limited demands.

Due to the limited reading experience, the ninth grader needs coordination from the leader, who will propose to develop the line of the tale and give recommendations to read certain scientific literature. You should not demand from a student to find all scientific texts for his work himself. This is just unreal! An adult can indicate the source that contains the necessary information and will be within the power of a teenager. Independent analytical reading and intellectual processing of the proposed text is already a very serious work.

The fairy tale enters into Pelevin's stories in interaction with the parable. For the parabletypical edification, which the tale is initially devoid of. The roots of the tale are in myth.The goal of the myth is not edification, but explanation. The instructiveness in the tale begins to be seenmuch later influenced by parables. The parable, from its very inception, is a genreinstructive. Only morality here is not explicit, as in a fable, but hidden. The reader makes a conclusionyes, but the parable has an educational purpose. She is also in the story of Pelewine, which, according to I. Ditkovskaya, “tries to bring his reader to the idea ofthat out of life's dead end<…> there is a way out ”that we are responsible for our destiny, thatfreedom is the highest value. The plurality of meanings is a feature of the symbol. Jeanan even variety, close to a parable and based on a symbol, is a parabola, whichsometimes called a symbolic parable. This is how another genre link arises:fairy tale is a parabola.

So, we see that at the genre level, two main culturalstratum: folklore and author's literature. This ratio is given in different ways,but each variant has two elements.

Subtext in the figurative system of the storyThe binary structure is also distinguished by associations that evoke in consciousnessthe reader's images of the story.

In folklore, the image of an egg, a chicken occupies a special place. Associations relatedwith him, have a dual character. Prophetic Kur, opposing the night uncleanpower, a majestic bird who "knows not the clock, but the time." But numerousironic proverbs ("Chicken is not a bird, and cancer is not a fish"). Six-fingered one ofheroes also gives rise to ambiguous associations. Six is \u200b\u200bthe number of union and balance.In Christianity - a sign of perfection (six days of creation), in Hindu mythologygii - the sacred number of harmonious space, in China - a numerical expressionthe universe. However, in the Middle Ages, six-fingered was considered a bad sign, and the number666 - devilish. The positive and negative meaning of associations within onewe will explain it once. For society, Six-Fingered is a product of evil, for the author - an ideal.

The leader guides Nastya towards building a logical chain "symbolism of number - East - Buddhism" and offers a source for analysis.

Pelevin orients readers to two cultural traditions, creating a resonanceku East - West. This connection is especially clearly felt in the image of the Recluse. Eastsome motives here are associated with the philosophy of Buddhism. Shi Huiyuan, founder of the firstchinese school in Buddhism, argued:"The search for the essence is not in following the transformations." And the Recluse leaves society,walking the path of transformation. A monk affects others. The recluse who proleads the days "in contemplation", becomes the Teacher who introduced the Six-Fingered to wisdomlife. Together they came to the truth in the final. Enlightenment is the result of quests in Buddhism.

However, the image of the Recluse is also associated with the Western tradition, which, according to binaryprinciple splits into religious and secular. Based on Christian motives,Pelevin portrays the hero as a preacher, a mission that comes to sacrifice,deciding to accept death together with the chicken people who submitted to his will. Linewestern literature is outlined in the image of the Recluse at the very beginning of the story. Hero onremembers the romantic rebel who broke off ties with the "low" world andchallenge him. The recluse is brought closer to the Byronic hero by contempt for others,arrogance.

Nastya managed to rely on information from the school course that was relevant for a ninth-grader. Further, the leader recommended to find books, the heroes of which were birds. Nastya not only came up with the necessary texts, but also read them.

The image of freely soaring birds in the finale evokes allusions from European and Russian literature. The happiness of free flight is acquired by a seagull named Jonathan Levingston from the book of R. Bach. Without free flight, which is associated with a challenge to fate, circumstances, Petrel and Gorky Falcon cannot imagine themselves.

A large place in the story is given to the image of Workshop number one. In his depiction there are reminiscences from two cultural spheres: eastern and western. According to Buddhism, life is an endless wheel of transformation. This is the model by which chicken life is organized in a broiler plant. Eastern culture pays attention to the relationship with the authorities. The Chinese prince Huan Xuan (5th century) emphasized that the emperor "uses the laws to keep everyone in a state of equality." The Twenty Nearest talk about unity and equality in chicken society. And in the episodes dedicated to the sermons of the Recluse, evangelical motives are heard.

It is important to show in practice how the mind of the researcher works: the vague association associated with the word "wall" grows into an argument. The image of the Wall of the World also indicates allusions from two areas of culture:areas of mythology and literature. In myths there is a border that separates "their" world from"Alien". Light, warmth reigns in his. "Alien" is dangerous and gloomy. But mythologicalthe hero easily overcomes the border, which most often represents a water barrieror dense forest. As in the mythological model, Pelevin has “his own” world is safe:there is a feeder, there is a "sun" lamp. But the Recluse and Six-Toes dream of leavinghis, although it is not easy to do. The border-wall is no longer perceived as protection, but asfetter. There are allusions associated with the story of Leonid Andreev "The Wall", whereunhappy people try to overcome the Wall separating them from happiness. Even the wayovercoming obstacles in these works is similar. But Andreev's story is tragic: everythingattempts are fruitless, there is no hope. Pelevin's story gives hope and is full of optimism.

Associations generated by other images are also built on a binary principle.The sun is the truth (Christian culture) and the source of life (mythology). "Look for the wings-then. Like an eagle! " - people are surprised at the sight of the Hermit and the Six-Fingered. Eagle - simthe ox of the ascension of Christ (it is no coincidence that Pelevin's window is crossed by a narrow cross) and the sign

romantic freedom.

The stage of data classification and systematization. The student must understand that in scientific research there can be no words “simple” and “for beauty”. And the concept of "dialogue" given in the topic should be filled with specific content.

Dialogue subtext

Roll calls with other people's texts, cultural traditions are lined up inlead Pelevin on a paired basis. This makes it possible to correlate each pair withcues in dialogue. N. D. Arutyunova distinguishes several types of dialogue. Model 5 -dialogue of free communication. Dialogue text should be coherent. This is reachingit is done by reconciling replicas. Second remarks may express consent, objection, up toletting go, concession, denial. It is such a dialogue that is built from reminiscences andallusions present in Pelevin's story.

We offer the following decryption. 1. Andersen's tale is a folk tale. Youconcession. It is true that the history of chickens is similar to that of the ugly duckling. But this is stillnot the whole truth. The fight, the exit from the "kingdom of the dead" give the images greatness and beauty.Without the folklore motif, the chicken-swan parallel would be perceived as ironic. 2. A fairy tale is a dystopia. Expression of denial. The tale states: "The world" alien "is dangerous,and the world “ours”, warm and bright, is good ”. "No, ideality can be deceiving" - cartdystopia raises. 3. A fairy tale is a parable. Consensus semantics. 4. Culture of Buddhism - culturechristianity. Consensus semantics. 5. The story of R. Bach and the works of Gorky. Semanticsconsent. 6. Mythological culture - the story of L. Andreev "The Wall". Objection semantics. 7. Religious tradition - literary tradition (Byronic hero). From dispute to agreement.

The stage of creating your own written statement on the research topic. A clear statement of the conclusion should be sought.

Conclusion

The combination of various cultural layers is a means of expressing the author'sposition. The integrity of the perception of the world is violated in the consciousness of a modern person.However, the dialogical principle of organizing the material instills confidence in the possibilityovercoming disharmony. This is consistent with the story's optimistic ending.

Reflection stage. And do not forget that the study must necessarily end with a stage of reflection. Both the young researcher and his leader. We hope that this experience of pedagogical reflection will help someone in their work.

Bychkova Galina Klavdievna

teacher of Russian language and literature GBOU SOSH № 1108, Moscow

- Fuck off.

- I said fuck off. Don't bother watching.

- And what are you looking at?

- What an idiot, Lord ... Well, in the sun.

Six-toed looked up from the black soil strewn with food, sawdust, and crushed peat, and squinted upward.

- Yes ... We live, we live - and why? The secret of the ages. And did anyone comprehend the subtle threadlike essence of the luminaries?

The stranger turned his head and looked at him with squeamish curiosity.

“Six-Fingered,” Six-Fingered immediately introduced himself.

“I am the Recluse,” the stranger replied. - Is that what they say in society? About a thin threadlike essence?

“Not with us anymore,” Six-Fingered answered, and suddenly whistled. - Wow!

- What? The Recluse asked suspiciously.

- Look, look! New has appeared!

- So what?

“It never happens in the center of the world. So that three luminaries at once.

The recluse chuckled indulgently.

- And in due time I saw eleven at once. One at its zenith and five on each epicycle. True, it was not here.

- And where? Asked Six-Fingered.

The recluse was silent. Turning away, he stepped aside, kicked a piece of food off the ground with his foot and began to eat. A weak warm wind blew, two suns were reflected in the gray-green planes of the distant horizon, and there was so much peace and sadness in this picture that the pensive Recluse, once again noticing Six-Fingered before him, even shuddered.

- It is you again. Well, what do you want?

- So. I want to talk.

“But you’re not clever, I suppose,” replied the Recluse. - It would be better to go to society. And that is where he wandered. Really, go ...

He waved his hand in the direction of a narrow, dirty yellow strip, which wriggled and trembled slightly - it was hard to believe that this was how a huge roaring crowd looked from here.

- I would go, - said Six-Fingered, - only they drove me away.

- Yes? Why? Politics?

Six-fingered nodded and scratched one foot with the other. The reclusive looked at his legs and shook his head.

- Real?

- And then what. They told me so - we now have the most, one might say, decisive stage approaching, and you have six toes on your feet ... Found, they say, the time ...

- What other "decisive stage"?

- I do not know. Everyone's faces are twisted, especially those of the Twenty Nearest, and you can't understand anything else. They run and yell.

“Ah,” said the Recluse, “I see. He's probably clearer and clearer every hour? Do you see all the contours?

- Exactly, - Six-Fingered was surprised. - How do you know?

- Yes, I've already seen about five of them, these decisive stages. Only they are called differently.

“Come on,” said Six-Fingered. - It happens for the first time.

- Still would. It would even be interesting to see how it will happen the second time. But we're a little different.

The recluse laughed quietly, took a few steps towards a distant society, turned his back to him and began to shuffle his feet with force, so that a whole cloud of food residues, sawdust and dust soon hung behind him. At the same time, he looked around, waved his arms and muttered something.

- What are you? Six-Fingered asked with some dismay when the Recluse, breathing heavily, returned.

“It's a gesture,” the Hermit replied. - Such an art form. You read a poem and perform an action corresponding to it.

- What poem have you just read?

“Such,” said the Hermit.

Sometimes I feel sad

looking at those I have left.

Sometimes I laugh

and then between us

a yellow mist billows.

“What a poem this is,” said Six-Fingered. - Thank God, I know all the poems. Well, that is, not by heart, of course, but I heard all twenty-five. There is no such thing, for sure.

The recluse looked at him in bewilderment, and then, apparently, understood.

- Do you remember at least one? - he asked. - Read it.

- Now. Gemini ... Gemini ... Well, in short, there we say one thing, and mean another. And then again we say one thing, and mean another, just as if the opposite. It turns out very nicely. In the end, we raise our eyes to the wall, and there ...

“That's enough,” said the Hermit.

There was a silence.

- Listen, did they drive you out too? - Six-Fingered broke it.

- No. I drove them all away.

- Does it really happen?

“Anything can happen,” the Recluse said, glanced at one of the celestial objects and added, in a tone of transition from chatter to serious conversation: “It will soon be dark.

- Come on, - said Six-Fingered, - no one knows when it will get dark.

- But I know. If you want to sleep well, do as I do. - And the Recluse began to rake up heaps of various trash, sawdust and lumps of peat lying underfoot. Gradually, he got a wall enclosing a small empty space, rather high, about his height. The recluse walked away from the finished structure, looked at him with love and said: - Here. I call this the refuge of the soul.

- Why? Asked Six-Fingered.

- So. Sounds nice. Are you going to build yourself?

Six-toed began poking around. Nothing came of it - the wall collapsed. To tell the truth, he did not really try, because he did not at all believe the Recluse about the onset of darkness - and when the heavenly lights flickered and began to slowly go out, and from the side of society came a popular sigh of horror like the sound of the wind in the straw, in his heart two strong feelings arose simultaneously: the usual fear of the unexpectedly approaching darkness and the previously unfamiliar admiration for someone who knew more about the world than he did.

- So be it, - said the Hermit, - jump inside. I will still build.

“I don’t know how to jump,” Six-Toes answered quietly.

“Hello, then,” said the Recluse, and suddenly, pushing himself off the ground with all his might, he soared up and disappeared behind the wall, after which the entire structure collapsed on him, covering it with a uniform layer of sawdust and peat. The formed mound trembled for some time, then a small hole appeared in its wall - Six-Fingered still had time to see in it the brilliant eye of the Recluse - and the final darkness set in.

Of course, Six-Fingered, for as long as he could remember, knew everything he needed to know about the night. “This is a natural process,” some said. "The business must be dealt with," others thought, and there were a majority of them. In general, there were many shades of opinion, but the same thing happened to everyone: when, for no apparent reason, the lights went out, after a short and hopeless struggle with the convulsions of fear, everyone fell into a daze, and when they came to themselves (when the lights again lit up), they remembered very few. The same thing happened with Six-Fingered, while he lived in society, and now - probably because the fear of the onset of darkness was superimposed on the fear of loneliness equal to him in strength and, therefore, doubled - he did not fall into the usual saving coma. The distant moan of the people had already died down, and he still sat, huddled, near the hillock and quietly wept. There was nothing around, and when the voice of the Recluse was heard in the darkness, Six-Fingered from fright shit right under him.

- Listen, stop hammering, - said the Recluse, - you are interfering with sleep.

“I’m not pecking,” Six-Fingered said quietly. - This is the heart. You would talk to me, huh?

- About what? The Hermit asked.

- About what you want, just longer.

- Let's talk about the nature of fear?

- Oh, don't! - squeaked Six-Fingered.

- Quiet you! The Recluse hissed. - Now all the rats will run here.

- What rats? What is it? - growing cold, asked Six-Fingered.

“They are creatures of the night. Although in fact the day too.

“I’m not lucky in my life,” Six-Fingered whispered. - If I had as many fingers as I should, I would sleep with everyone now. Lord, what a fear ... Rats ...

- Listen, - the Recluse spoke, - here you keep repeating - Lord, Lord ... do you have there, do they believe in God?

- The devil only knows. There is something like that, that's for sure. And what - no one knows. For example, why is it getting dark? Although, of course, it can be explained by natural reasons. And if you think about God, you won't do anything in life ...

- And what, interestingly, can be done in life? The Recluse asked.

- Like what? Why ask stupid questions - as if you yourself do not know. Everyone, as he can, climbs to the trough. Law of life.

- Clear. Why then all this?

- What is it"?

- Well, the universe, heaven, earth, luminaries - in general, everything.

- What do you mean why? This is how the world works.

- How does it work? The Recluse asked with interest.

- That's how it works. We move in space and time. According to the laws of life.

- And where to?

- How do I know. The secret of the ages. You know, you can go crazy.

- You can go crazy. Whatever you talk about, you have everything or the law of life, or the secret of the ages.

“If you don’t like it, don’t say so,” Six-Fingered said resentfully.

- Yes, I would not say. It's scary for you to be silent in the dark.

Six-fingered somehow completely forgot about it. Listening to his feelings, he suddenly noticed that he felt no fear. This frightened him to such an extent that he jumped to his feet and rushed somewhere blindly until, from all over the acceleration, he crashed his head against the invisible Wall of the World.

From afar was heard the raspy laughter of the Recluse, and Six-Fingered, carefully shifting his legs, wandered towards these only sounds in the universal darkness and silence. When he reached the mound under which the Recluse was sitting, he silently lay down beside him and, trying not to pay attention to the cold, tried to sleep. The moment when it happened, he did not even notice.

2.

- Today we will climb behind the Wall of the World, understand? - said the Hermit.

Six-fingered was just running up to the soul's refuge. The building itself came out from him almost the same as from the Recluse, but the jump was successful only after a long run, and now he was training. The meaning of what was said reached him exactly when he had to jump, and as a result, he crashed into a flimsy structure so that peat and sawdust, instead of covering his entire body with an even soft layer, turned into a pile piled over his head, and his legs lost support and hung powerlessly in the void. The recluse helped him out and repeated:

- Today we will go to the World Wall.

Over the past few days, Six-Fingered had heard enough from him that his soul creaked and hooted all the time, and the old life in society seemed like a funny fantasy (or maybe a vulgar nightmare - as if he hadn't decided yet), but that was too much.

The recluse, meanwhile, continued:

- The decisive stage comes after every seventy eclipses. And yesterday it was sixty-ninth. The world is ruled by numbers.

And he pointed to a long chain of straws sticking out of the soil near the very Wall of the World.

- But how can one climb behind the Wall of the World if it is the Wall of the World? Indeed, in the name itself ... There is nothing behind it ...

Six-fingered was so dumbfounded that he did not even pay attention to the dark mystical explanations of the Recluse, from which he would otherwise necessarily have spoiled his mood.

- So what, - answered the Hermit, - that there is nothing. This should only make us happy.

- What are we going to do there?

- And what is bad for us here?

- And so, fool, that this "here" will not be soon.

- What will happen?

- Here, stay, you will find out then. Nothing will happen.

Six-fingered felt that he had completely lost confidence in what was happening.

- Why do you scare me all the time?

“Don’t whine,” muttered the Recluse, looking anxiously at some point in the sky. - Beyond the Wall of the World is not bad at all. For me, this is much better than here.

He approached the remains of the soul's shelter built by the Six-Toes and began to scatter them on the sides with his feet.

- Why are you? Asked Six-Fingered.

- Before leaving any world, you must generalize the experience of your stay in it, and then destroy all your traces. This is a tradition.

- Who invented it?

- What's the difference. Well, I. There is no one else here, you see. Like this…

The recluse looked at the result of his labor - on the site of the collapsed building there was now a perfectly flat place, no different from the surface of the rest of the desert.

“Everything,” he said, “I have destroyed the traces. Now we need to generalize the experience. Now it's your turn. Climb on this bump and tell.

Six-fingered felt that he was outwitted, leaving him the most difficult and, most importantly, incomprehensible part of the job. But after the eclipse incident, he decided to obey the Recluse. Shrugging his shoulders and looking around to see if anyone from society had wandered in here, he climbed onto a bump.

- What to tell?

- Everything you know about the world.

"We'll be here for a long time," whistled Six-Fingered.

“I don’t think so,” the Recluse said dryly.

- So, so. Our world ... Well, your ritual is idiotic ...

- Do not be distracted.

- Our world is a regular octagon, uniformly and rectilinearly moving in space. Here we are preparing for a decisive stage, the crown of our life. This is the official wording, anyway. The so-called Wall of the World runs along the perimeter of the world, objectively arising as a result of the laws of life. In the center of the world there is a two-tiered feeder-drinker, around which our civilization has existed for a long time. The position of a member of society in relation to the feeder-drinker is determined by his social significance and merit ...

“I haven’t heard this before,” interrupted the Recluse. - What is it - merit? And public interest?

- Well ... How to say ... This is when someone gets to the very feeder-drinker.

- And who gets to her?

- I say, the one who has great merits. Or public interest. For example, I used to have so-so merits, but now I have none at all. Don't you know the folk model of the universe?

“I don’t know,” said the Hermit.

- What are you doing? ... But how did you prepare for the decisive stage?

- And almost everything. What else is there ... Beyond the area of \u200b\u200bsociety there is a great desert, and everything ends with the Wall of Peace. Renegades like us huddle around her.

- Clear. Outcasts. Where did the log come from? I mean, what did they split off from?

- Well, you give ... Even the Twenty Nearest won't tell you that. The secret of the ages.

“W-well, good. And what is the secret of the ages?

“The law of life,” Six-Fingered said, trying to speak softly. He didn’t like something about the intonations of the Recluse.

- Okay. And what is the law of life?

- This is the secret of the ages.

- The secret of the ages? The Recluse asked in a strangely thin voice and slowly began to approach Six-Fingered in an arc.

- What are you doing? Come on! - Six-Fingered was frightened. - This is your ritual!

But the Recluse had already pulled himself together.

“Okay,” he said. - Get off.

Six-fingered got off the bump, and the Recluse, with a concentrated and serious look, climbed into his place. For a while he was silent, as if listening to something, and then he raised his head and spoke.

“I came here from another world,” he said, “in the days when you were still very young. And in that other world I came from the third, and so on. I have been in five worlds in total. They are the same as this one, and practically do not differ from each other in any way. And the universe where we are is a huge enclosed space. In the language of the gods, it is called "Lunacharsky Broiler Plant", but what this means is unknown even to them.

- Do you know the language of the gods? Six-Fingered asked in amazement.

- Little. Do not interrupt. There are seventy worlds in total in the universe. We are now in one of them. These worlds are attached to an immense black ribbon that slowly moves in a circle. And above it, on the surface of the sky, there are hundreds of identical luminaries. So it is not they who are floating above us, but we are floating under them. Try to imagine this.

Six-fingered closed his eyes. His face showed tension.

“No, I can't,” he said finally.

“Okay,” the Recluse said, “listen further. All seventy worlds that exist in the universe are called the Chain of Worlds. In any case, they may well be called that. There is life in each of the worlds, but it does not exist there permanently, but cyclically appears and disappears. The decisive stage takes place in the center of the universe, through which all the worlds pass in turn. In the language of the gods, it is called Workshop number one. Our world is just on the threshold of it. When the decisive stage ends and the renewed world comes out from the other side of Workshop number one, everything starts all over again. Life arises, goes through a cycle and after a set period is again thrown into Workshop number one.

- I traveled a lot, - said the Hermit, - and bit by bit collected secret knowledge. In one world one thing was known, in another - another.

- Maybe you know where we come from?

- I know. What do they say about it in your world?

- That this is an objective reality. The law of life is as follows.

- Clear. You are asking about one of the deepest secrets of the universe, and I don't even know if you can trust it. But since there is no one besides you, I think I will tell you. We are born from white balls. In fact, they are not exactly balls, but somewhat elongated and one end of them is narrower than the other, but now this is not important.

- Balls. White balls, - repeated Six-Fingered and, as he stood, fell to the ground. The weight of the recognized person fell on him with a physical weight, and for a second it seemed to him that he was going to die. The recluse jumped up to him and began to shake with all his might. Gradually, the clarity of consciousness returned to Six-Fingered.

- What happened to you? The Recluse asked fearfully.

- Oh, I remembered. Exactly. We used to be white balls and lay on long shelves. The place was very warm and humid. And then we began to break these balls from the inside and ... From somewhere below our world rolled up, and then we were already in it ... But why does no one remember this?

“There are worlds in which this is remembered,” said the Hermit. - Just think, the fifth and sixth perinatal matrices. Not so deep, and besides, only part of the truth. But all the same - those who remember this are hidden away so that they do not interfere with preparing for the decisive stage, or whatever it is called. Everywhere is different. In our country, for example, it was called completion of construction, although no one was building anything.

Apparently, the recollection of his world plunged the Recluse into sadness. He fell silent.

“Listen,” Six-Fingered asked after a while, “where do these white balls come from?

The recluse looked at him approvingly.

“It took me much longer for this question to mature in my soul,” he said. - But here everything is much more complicated. One ancient legend says that these eggs emerge from us, but this may well be a metaphor ...

- From U.S? Unclear. Where did you hear that?

- Yes, he wrote it himself. You won't hear anything here, ”said the Recluse with unexpected anguish in his voice.

“You said it was an ancient legend.

- Correctly. I just composed it as an ancient legend.

- Like this? What for?

- You see, one ancient sage, one might say - the prophet (this time Six-Fingers guessed who they were talking about) said that what is said is not so important as what is said. Part of the meaning of what I wanted to express is that my words act as an ancient legend. However, where can you understand ...

The recluse looked at the sky and interrupted himself:

- Everything. Time to go.

- To society.

Six-fingered eyes widened.

- We were going to climb through the Wall of the World. Why do we need society?

- Do you even know what society is? The Hermit asked. - This is the device for climbing the Wall of the World.

Six-fingered, despite the complete absence of objects in the desert behind which one could hide, for some reason walked stealthily, and the closer society became, the more criminal his walk became. Gradually, the huge crowd, which seemed from a distance a huge moving creature, disintegrated into separate bodies, and one could even make out the surprised grimaces of those who noticed the approaching.

- The main thing, - the Recluse repeated the last instruction in a whisper, - behave more impudently. But not too impudent. We must certainly make them angry - but not to such an extent that we are torn to shreds. In short, watch what I do all the time.

- Six-fingered pinned! - someone shouted cheerfully in front. - Hello, bastard! Hey Six-Fingered, who is this with you?

This stupid cry unexpectedly - and it is completely incomprehensible why - caused a wave of nostalgic childhood memories in Sixtip. The recluse, walking a little behind, seemed to feel this and shoved Six-Fingered in the back.

At the very border of society, people rarely stood - here lived mainly cripples and contemplators who did not like cramped conditions - it was not difficult to get around them. But the further, the denser the crowd stood, and very soon the Recluse and Six-Fingered were in unbearable tightness. It was still possible to move forward, but only by quarreling with those standing on the sides. And when the shaking roof of the feeder-drinker appeared over the heads of those in front, it was already impossible to take a step forward.

“I was always amazed,” the Recluse said quietly to Six-Toed, “how wisely everything is arranged here. Those who stand close to the trough are happy mainly because they remember all the time about wanting to get in their place. And those who wait all their lives for a crack to appear between those in front are happy because they have something to hope for in life. After all, this is harmony and unity.

- Well, don't you like it? A voice asked from the side.

“No, I don’t like it,” the Hermit replied.

- What exactly do you dislike?

- Yes all.

And the Recluse with a broad gesture circled the crowd around, the majestic dome of the feeder-drinker, the skies flickering with yellow lights and the distant Wall of the World, barely visible from here.

- Clear. And where do you think is better?

- That is the tragedy that nowhere! In fact of the matter! - the Recluse cried out in pain. - It would be better where, would I really talk with you here about life?

- And your comrade of the same views? The voice asked. - Why is he looking into the ground?

Six-fingered raised his eyes - before that he looked at his feet, because this allowed him to participate minimally in what was happening - and saw the owner of the voice. He had a flabby, beefy face, and when he spoke, the anatomical details of his larynx became clearly visible. Six-fingered immediately realized that before him was one of the Twenty Nearest, the most conscience of the era. Apparently, before their arrival, he conducted explanations here, as was sometimes practiced.

- This is why you are so sad, guys, - he said, unexpectedly friendly, - that you do not prepare together with everyone for a decisive stage. Then you would not have time for these thoughts. Sometimes it occurs to me myself that ... And, you know, work saves me.

- Take them.

Movement passed through the crowd, and the Recluse and Six-Fingered were immediately squeezed on all four sides.

- Yes, we spat on you, - also said the Recluse amiably. - Where will you take us? You have nowhere to take us. Well, run it again. Over the Wall of the World, as they say, you cannot throw ...

Here confusion appeared on the Recluse's face, and the fat-faced man raised his eyelids high - their eyes met.

- It's an interesting idea. We haven't had anything like this before. Of course, there is such a proverb, but the will of the people is stronger.

Apparently, this thought delighted him. He turned and commanded:

- Attention! We are building! Now we will have something unplanned.

It didn't take long between the moment the fat-faced man ordered the formation, and the moment when the procession, in the center of which were leading the Hermit and Six-Fingered, approached the Wall of the World.

The procession was impressive. The first in it was the fat man, followed by the two appointed by the old mothers (no one, including the fat one, knew what it was - there was just such a tradition), who through tears shouted hurtful words to the Recluse and Six-fingered, mourning and cursing them at the same time, then they led the criminals themselves, and a crowd of the masses brought up the rear.

“So,” said the fat man, when the procession stopped, “came a frightening moment of reward. I think guys, we will all shut our eyes when these two renegades disappear into oblivion, right? And let this exciting event serve as a terrible lesson for all of us, the people. Cry louder, mothers!

The old mothers fell to the ground and burst into such sorrowful crying that many of those present also began to turn away and swallow; but, writhing in the dust-splattered with tears, the mothers sometimes suddenly jumped up and, with flashing eyes, threw irrefutable terrible accusations against the Recluse and Six-fingered, after which they fell back exhausted.

- So, - said the fat man after a while, - have you repented? Did the tears of mothers make you ashamed?

“Of course,” replied the Recluse, anxiously observing either the ceremony or some celestial bodies, “but how do you want to transfer us?

The fat man pondered. The old mothers also fell silent, then one of them rose from the dust, dusted herself off and said:

- Embankment?

- The embankment, - said the Hermit, - it will take five eclipses. And we have long been impatient to hide our exposed shame in the void.

The fat man, squinting, looked at the Recluse and nodded approvingly.

“They understand,” he said to one of his own. “They only pretend. Ask, maybe they themselves will offer what?

A few minutes later, a living pyramid rose almost to the very edge of the Wall of the World. Those who stood at the top blinked and hid their faces so that, God forbid, they did not look where it all ends.

“Up,” someone commanded the Recluse and Six-fingered, and they, supporting each other, walked along a shaky line of shoulders and backs to the edge of the wall that was lost in height.

From a height, the entire quieted society was visible, closely following what was happening from a distance, some previously imperceptible details of the sky were visible and a thick hose descending from infinity to the feeder-drinker - from here it seemed not as majestic as from the ground. Easily, as if on a hummock, jumping to the edge of the Wall of the World, the Recluse helped Six-Fingered to sit next to him and shouted down:

- Order!

From his scream, someone in the living pyramid lost balance, it swayed several times and fell apart - everyone fell down, under the base of the wall, but no one, thank God, was hurt.

Clutching the cold tin of the side, Six-Fingered peered into the tiny, raised faces, into the dull gray-brown spaces of his homeland; looked at that corner of it, where there was a big green spot on the Wall of the World and where he spent his childhood. “I’ll never see this again,” he thought, and although he didn’t have a special desire to see it all, his throat still cracked. He pressed a small piece of earth with a straw to his side and reflected on how quickly and irreversibly everything in his life was changing.

- Goodbye, sons! - shouted from below the old mothers, bowed down to the ground and began, sobbing, toss up heavy pieces of peat.

The recluse rose on tiptoe and shouted loudly:

I always knew

what will I leave

this ruthless world ...

Then a large piece of peat hit him, and he, spreading his arms and legs, flew down. Six-fingered for the last time looked at all that remained below and noticed that someone from the distant crowd was waving goodbye to him - then he waved back. Then he closed his eyes and stepped back.

For several seconds he spun randomly in the void, and then suddenly hit hard on something hard and opened his eyes. It was lying on a black, shiny surface of unfamiliar material; the Wall of the World went upward - exactly the same as if you look at it from that side, and next to it, stretching out his hand to the wall, stood the Recluse. He was finishing his poem:

But what will it be,

did not think…

Then he turned to Six-Fingered and with a short gesture told him to get to his feet.

4.

Now, as they walked along the giant black ribbon, Six-Fingered saw that the Recluse had told him the truth. Indeed, the world that they left was slowly moving along with this ribbon relative to other stationary space objects, the nature of which Six-Fingered did not understand, and the luminaries were motionless - as soon as they left the black ribbon, everything became clear. Now the world they had left was slowly approaching the green steel gates, under which the ribbon went. The recluse said that this is the entrance to Workshop number one. Strange, but Six-Fingered was not at all struck by the greatness of the objects filling the universe - on the contrary, in him, rather, a feeling of slight irritation awoke. "And it's all?" - he thought with disgust. In the distance, two worlds were visible, similar to the one they had left - they also moved with the black ribbon and looked rather shabby from here. At first, Six-Fingered thought that he and the Recluse were heading to another world, but halfway through the Recluse suddenly told him to jump from the motionless curb along the tape along which they were walking, down into a dark bottomless gap.

“It's soft there,” he said to Six-Fingered, but he stepped back and shook his head. Then the Recluse silently jumped down, and Six-Toes had no choice but to follow him.

This time he nearly hit the cold stone surface lined with large brown slabs. These plates stretched to the horizon, and Six-Fingered for the first time in his life understood what the word "infinity" meant.

- What is it? Asked Six-Fingered.

“Tile,” the Recluse replied in an incomprehensible word and changed the subject: “The night will begin soon, and we need to get to those places. Part of the road will have to go in the dark.

The recluse looked seriously worried. Six-fingered looked into the distance and saw distant cubic rocks of a pale yellow color (the Recluse said they were called "boxes") - there were a lot of them, and between them one could see empty spaces, strewn with mountains of light shavings. From a distance, it all looked like a landscape from a forgotten childhood dream.

- Come on, - said the Recluse and moved forward with a quick step.

- Listen, - asked Six-Fingered, sliding on the tiles next to him, - how do you know when the night comes?

“By the clock,” the Hermit replied. - This is one of the heavenly bodies. Now it is on the right and above - this is the disk with black zigzags.

Six-fingered looked at the detail of the firmament, which was rather familiar, though it never attracted much attention.

“When part of those black lines comes into a special position, which I’ll tell you about sometime later, the light goes out,” said the Recluse. “It’s about to happen. Count to ten.

- One, two, - began Six-Fingered, and suddenly it became dark.

“Keep up with me,” the Recluse said, “you'll get lost.

He didn't have to say that - Six-Fingered almost stepped on his heels. The only source of light in the universe remained an oblique yellow ray falling from under the green gates of Workshop number one. The place where the Recluse and Six-Fingered were going was not far from this gate, but, according to the Recluse, it was the safest.

Only a distant yellow stripe under the gate and a few slabs around was visible. Six-fingered fell into a strange state. It seemed to him that the darkness was squeezing them with the Recluse, just as the crowd had recently squeezed. Danger emanated from everywhere, and Six-Fingered felt it with all his skin like a draft blowing from all directions at the same time. When it became completely unbearable from fear, he raised his gaze from the flowing tiles to the bright strip of light in front, and then the society that looked almost the same from afar was recalled. It seemed to him that they were going into the realm of some fiery spirits, and he was about to tell the Recluse about it when he suddenly stopped and raised his hand.

“Quiet,” he said, “rats. To our right.

There was nowhere to run - the same tiled space stretched around in all directions, and the lane ahead was still too far. The recluse turned to the right and assumed a strange pose, ordering Six-Fingered to hide behind him, which he did with amazing speed and willingness.

At first he did not notice anything, and then he felt, rather than saw, the movement of a large, fast body in the darkness. It stopped exactly at the border of sight.

“She’s waiting,” the Recluse said quietly, “as we proceed. As soon as we take a step, and she rushes at us.

“Yeah, I'll throw myself,” said the rat, emerging from the darkness. - Like a lump of evil and rage. As a true product of the night.

“Uh,” the Recluse sighed. - One-eyed. And I really thought we were really in trouble. Meet.

Six-fingered looked incredulously at the smart, tapered muzzle with a long mustache and two black beady eyes.

“One-eyed,” said the rat, and wagged its indecently bare tail.

- Six-Fingered, - Six-Fingered introduced himself and asked: - Why are you One-eyed, if you have both eyes in order?

- And my third eye is open, - said One-Eye, - and he is alone. In a sense, everyone with a third eye open is one-eyed.

- And what is ... - began Six-Fingered, but the Recluse did not let him finish.

- Shall we walk, - he gallantly offered One-Eye, - to those boxes? A night road is boring if there is no interlocutor nearby.

Six-fingered was very offended.

- Let's go, - One-Eye agreed and, turning to Six-Fingered sideways (only now he saw her huge muscular body), she trotted alongside the Recluse, who had to walk very quickly to keep up. Six-Fingered ran behind, looking at One-Eyed's paws and muscles rolling under her skin, thinking about how this meeting could have ended if One-Eyed was not the friend of the Recluse, and tried his best not to step on her tail. Judging by how quickly their conversation began to resemble the continuation of some old conversation, they were old friends.

- Freedom? Lord, what is it? - Asked One-Eye and laughed. - This is when you run in confusion and loneliness throughout the plant, for the tenth time or for what time has already dodged the knife? Is this freedom?

“You’re changing everything again,” answered the Recluse. - This is only a search for freedom. I will never agree with the infernal picture of the world in which you believe. Probably, you have it because you feel like a stranger in this universe created for us.

- And the rats believe that it was made for us. I do not mean that I agree with them. You are right, of course, but not completely and not in the most important thing. Are you saying this universe was made for you? No, it was created for you, but not for you. Do you understand?

The recluse bowed his head and walked in silence for a while.

“Okay,” said One-Eye. - I say goodbye. True, I thought that you would show up a little later - but still we met. I'm leaving tomorrow.

- Beyond the boundaries of everything you can talk about. One of the old holes took me into an empty concrete pipe that goes so far that it’s hard to even think about it. I met several rats there - they say that this pipe goes deeper and deeper and there, far below, leads to another universe, where only male gods live in the same green clothes. They perform complex manipulations around huge idols standing in giant mines.

One-eyed braked.

“From here to my right,” she said. - So, the food there is - you can't tell. And this universe could fit in one mine there. Listen, do you want with me?

- No, - answered the Hermit, - down is not our way.

It seems that for the first time during the entire conversation, he remembered the Six-fingered.

- Well, - said One-Eye, - then I want to wish you success on your path, whatever it may be. Goodbye.

One-Eye nodded to Six-Fingered and disappeared into the darkness as quickly as she had appeared before.

The rest of the way the Recluse and Six-Fingered walked in silence. When they got to the boxes, they crossed several mountains of shavings and finally reached their goal. It was a hole in the shavings, dimly illuminated by the light from under the gate of Workshop number one, in which lay a heap of soft and long rags. Nearby, against the wall, stood a huge ribbed structure, about which the Recluse said that once it radiated so much heat that it was difficult even to get close to it. The recluse was in a markedly bad mood. He fumbled in rags, settling down for the night, and Six-Fingered decided not to pester him with conversations, especially since he himself wanted to sleep. Somehow wrapped in rags, he forgot himself.

He was awakened by a distant grinding, the clatter of steel on wood, and screams filled with such inexpressible hopelessness that he immediately rushed to the Recluse.

- What is it?

“Your world is going through a decisive stage,” the Hermit replied.

“Death has come,” the Recluse said simply, turned away, pulled a rag over himself and fell asleep.

5.

Waking up, the Recluse looked at the tear-stained Six-Fingered Man, shaking in the corner, grunted and began to rummage through the rags. Soon he took out about ten identical iron objects, similar to the cuttings of a thick hexagonal pipe.

“Look,” he said to Six-Fingered.

- What is it? He asked.

“The gods call them nuts.

Six-fingered was about to ask something else, but suddenly he waved his hand and roared again.

- What's wrong with you? The Recluse asked.

- Everyone died, - muttered Six-Fingered, - everything, everything ...

“So what,” said the Hermit. - You will die too. And I assure you that you and they will be dead for the same length of time.

- It's still a pity.

- Who exactly? An old mother, or what?

- Do you remember how we were thrown off the wall? Asked Six-Fingered. - Everyone was told to close their eyes. And I waved my hand to them, and then someone waved back to me. And when I think that he also died ... And that with him died what made him do this ...

“Yes,” said the Recluse, “it's really very sad.

And there was silence, broken only by mechanical sounds from behind the green gates, behind which the Six-Fingered homeland had sailed.

“Listen,” Six-Fingered asked, crying, “and what happens after death?

“It's hard to say,” the Hermit replied. “I have had many visions in this regard, but I do not know how much you can rely on them.

- Tell me, eh?

- After death, we are usually plunged into hell. I counted at least fifty varieties of what is happening there. Sometimes the dead are cut into pieces and fried in huge pans. Sometimes it is baked entirely in iron rooms with a glass door, where a blue flame burns or white-hot metal pillars radiate heat. Sometimes we are boiled in giant multi-colored pots. And sometimes, on the contrary, they are frozen in a piece of ice. In general, little comforting.

- Who does it, huh?

- Like who? Gods.

- Why would they?

“You see, we are their food.

Six-fingered shuddered, and then looked closely at his trembling knees.

“They love the legs most of all,” remarked the Recluse. - Well, hands too. It is about the hands that I am going to talk with you. Pick them up.

Six-fingered arms stretched out in front of him - thin, powerless, they looked rather pathetic.

“Once they served us for flight,” said the Recluse, “but then everything changed.

- What is flight?

- Nobody knows for sure. The only thing that is known is that you need to have strong hands. Much stronger than you or even me. Therefore, I want to teach you one exercise. Take two nuts.

Six-fingered with difficulty pulled two heavy objects to the feet of the Recluse.

- Like this. Now push the ends of your hands through the holes.

Six-fingered did that too.

- Now raise and lower your hands up and down ... That's it.

A minute later Six-Fingered was tired to such an extent that he could not do another swing, no matter how hard he tried.

- Everything, - he said, dropped his hands, and the nuts fell to the floor.

“Now look at how I’m doing,” the Recluse said, and put five nuts on each hand. For several minutes he kept his arms spread apart and did not seem to be tired at all. - Well, how?

“Great,” Six-Fingered breathed. - Why do you hold them still?

- From some point in this exercise, one difficulty appears. Then you will understand what I mean, ”the Recluse replied.

- Are you sure you can learn to fly this way?

- No. Not sure. On the contrary, I suspect it is a futile exercise.

- Why then is it needed? If you yourself know that it is useless?

- How to say to you. Because, besides this, I know many other things, and one of them is this: if you find yourself in the dark and see at least the faintest ray of light, you must go to it, instead of reasoning, it makes sense to do it or no. Maybe it really doesn't make sense. But just sitting in the dark doesn't make sense anyway. Do you understand what's the difference?

Six-fingered was silent.

“We are alive as long as we have hope,” the Recluse said. - And if you lost her, in no case do not allow yourself to guess about it. And then something can change. But there is no need to seriously hope for this.

Six-fingered felt some irritation.

“This is all great,” he said, “but what does it really mean?

- Realistically for you it means that you will deal with these nuts every day until you do the same as I do.

- Is there really no other occupation? Asked Six-Fingered.

- Yes, - answered the Hermit. - You can prepare for the decisive stage. But you have to do this alone.

6.

- Listen, Recluse, you know everything - what is love?

- I wonder where you heard that word? The Recluse asked.

- Yes, when I was kicked out of society, someone asked if I loved what was supposed to. I said I didn't know.

- Clear. I can hardly explain it to you. This is possible only by example. Just imagine that you fell into the water and drown. Introduced?

- Now imagine that you stuck your head out for a second, saw the light, took a breath of air and something touched your hands. And you grabbed it and hold on. So, if we assume that you are drowning all your life - and this is how it is - then love is what helps you keep your head above water.

- Are you talking about love for what is supposed to be?

- Never mind. Although, in general, what is supposed to be loved under water. Anything. What difference does it make what to grab onto - if only it holds. Worst of all, if it's someone else - he, you see, can always pull his hand away. In short, love is what keeps everyone where they are. Excluding, perhaps, the dead ... Although ...

“In my opinion, I never liked anything,” Six-Fingered interrupted.

- No, it happened to you too. Do you remember how you bellowed for half a day thinking about who waved back at you when we were thrown off the wall? That was love. You don't know why he did it. Maybe he thought he was mocking you much more subtly than others. It seems to me personally that it was so. So you behaved very stupidly, but absolutely right. Love gives meaning to what we do, even though it doesn't really make sense.

- So, love deceives us? Is this some kind of dream?

- No. Love is something like love, and sleep is a dream. Everything you do, you do only because of love. Otherwise, you would just sit on the ground and howl in horror. Or disgust.

“But many people do what they do, not at all because of love.

- Give it up. They don't do anything.

- Do you love anything, Hermit?

- I do not know. Something that sometimes comes to me. Sometimes it’s some kind of thought, sometimes nuts, sometimes dreams. The main thing is that I always recognize it, no matter what form it takes, and I meet it with the best that is in me.

- By becoming calm.

- Do you worry the rest of the time?

- No. I am always calm. It's just that it's the best that I have, and when what I love comes to me, I meet him with my calmness.

- What do you think is the best in me?

- In you? Perhaps this is when you are silent somewhere in the corner and you are not visible.

- Truth?

- I do not know. Seriously, you can know what is best about you by the way you meet what you love. How did you feel thinking about who waved your hand?

- Sadness.

- Well, that means that the best in you is your sadness, and you will always meet with it what you love.

The recluse looked around and listened to something.

- Do you want to look at the gods? He asked unexpectedly.

“Only, please, not now,” Six-Fingered replied in dismay.

- Do not be afraid. They are dumb and not at all scary. Well, look, there they are.

Two huge creatures were walking quickly along the aisle by the conveyor - they were so large that their heads were lost in the semi-darkness somewhere under the ceiling. Behind them walked another similar creature, only lower and thicker - it carried in its hand a vessel in the form of a truncated cone, with its narrow part facing the ground. The first two stopped near the place where the Recluse was sitting with Six-Fingered, and began to emit low rumbling sounds ("They say," Six-Fingered guessed), and the third creature went to the wall, put the vessel on the floor, dipped a pole with bristles at the end and drew a fresh, dirty gray line along the dirty gray wall. It smelled strange.

“Listen,” Six-Fingered whispered, barely audibly, “and you said you knew their language. What they're saying?

- These two? Now. The first says: "I want to eat." And the second one says: "Don't go near Dunka anymore."

- And what is Dunka?

- This is the area of \u200b\u200bthe world.

- And ... What does the first one want to eat?

- Dunka, probably, - the Recluse answered after thinking.

- And how will he eat out a region of the world?

- That's why they are gods.

- And this fat one, what does she say?

- She does not speak, she sings. That after death he wants to become a willow. My favorite divine song, by the way. It's a pity, I don't know what a willow is.

- Do the gods die?

- Still would. This is their main occupation.

The two went on. "What greatness!" - Six-Fingered thought in shock. The heavy steps of the gods and their low voices died away; there was silence. The draft swirled the dust over the tiles of the floor, and Six-Fingered it seemed that he was looking from an unimaginably high mountain at the strange stone desert below, over which for millions of years the same thing happened: the wind was rushing and the remnants of someone's lives were flying in it, looking from afar straws, pieces of paper, chips or something else. “Someday,” thought Six-Fingered, “someone else will look down from here and think of me, not knowing what he thinks of me. Just as I now think of someone who felt the same as me, only God knows when. Every day has a point that holds it together with the past and future. How sad this world is ... "

“But there is something in him that justifies the saddest life,” said the Recluse suddenly.

“I ought to become after daring and howling,” the fat goddess sang in a drawn-out and soft voice at a bucket of paint; Six-fingered, resting his head on his elbow, felt sadness, and the Recluse was completely calm and looked into the void, as if over a thousand invisible heads.

7.

During the time Six-Fingered was engaged with nuts, as many as ten worlds went to Workshop number one. Something creaked and rattled behind the green gates, something was happening there, and Six-Fingered, just thinking about it, covered with cold sweat and began to shake - but that was what gave him strength. His arms were noticeably lengthened and strengthened - now they were the same as those of the Recluse. But so far this has not led to anything. The only thing that the Recluse knew was that the flight was carried out with the help of the hands, and what it was was not clear. The recluse believed that this is a special way of instantaneous movement in space, in which you need to imagine the place where you want to go, and then give your hands a mental command to transfer the whole body there. He spent whole days in contemplation, trying to move at least a few steps, but nothing came of it.

“Probably,” he said to Six-Fingered, “our hands are not strong enough yet. We must continue.

Once, when the Recluse and Six-Fingered, sitting in a heap of rags between the boxes, peered into the essence of things, an extremely unpleasant event happened. It grew a little darker around, and when Six-Fingered opened his eyes, a huge unshaven face of some god loomed in front of him.

“Look, where we got to,” it said, and then huge dirty hands grabbed the Recluse and Six-Fingered, pulled out from behind the boxes, carried them with incredible speed across a huge space and threw them into one of the worlds that were no longer very far from Workshop number one. At first, the Recluse and Six-Fingered took it calmly and even with some irony - they settled down near the Wall of the World and began to prepare for themselves the refuge of the soul - but God suddenly returned, pulled out Six-Fingered, looked at him carefully, smacked his lips in surprise, and then wrapped a piece of his leg sticky blue tape and tossed it back. A few minutes later, several gods approached at once - they took out Six-Fingered and began to examine him in turn, uttering exclamations of delight.

“I don’t like it,” the Recluse said, when the gods finally returned Six-Fingered to his place and left, “it’s bad.

“In my opinion, too,” said the frightened Six-Fingered Man. - Maybe it's better to remove this rubbish?

And he pointed to a blue ribbon wrapped around his leg.

“Better not take it off yet,” said the Recluse.

They were gloomily silent for a while, and then Six-Fingered said:

- It's all because of six fingers. Well, if we run away from here, they will be looking for us now. They know about the boxes. Is there somewhere else you can hide?

The recluse darkened even more, and instead of answering, offered to go to the local society to unwind.

But it turned out that a whole deputation was already moving towards them from the side of the distant drinking trough. Judging by the fact that, not reaching twenty steps to the Recluse and Six-Fingered, those walking towards them fell to the ground and began to crawl further, they had serious intentions. The recluse ordered Six-Fingered to step back and went to find out what was the matter. Returning, he said:

“I've never really seen anything like this. They are apparently very pious. In any case, they saw how you communicate with the gods, and now they consider you the messiah, and me - your disciple or something like that.

- So what will happen now? What do they want?

- Call to her. They say that some path is straightened, something is twisted and so on. And most importantly, everything is like in books. I didn't understand anything, but I think it's worth going.

- Come on, - Six-Fingered shrugged indifferently. He was tormented by dark forebodings.

On the way, several obsessive attempts were made to carry the Recluse in his arms, and this was avoided with great difficulty. To Six-fingered, no one dared not only approach, but even look at him, and he walked in the center of a large circle of emptiness.

Upon arrival, Six-Fingered was seated on a high pile of straw, while the Recluse remained at its base and plunged into conversation with the local spiritual authorities, of whom there were about twenty - they were easily recognizable by their flabby, fat faces. Then he blessed them and climbed the hill to Six-Fingered, whose soul was so nasty that he did not even respond to the Recluse's ritual bow, which, however, looked quite natural for everyone else.

It turned out that everyone had been waiting for the coming of the Messiah for a long time, because the approaching decisive stage, here called the Terrible Soup, from which it was clear that the local inhabitants had serious insights, had long worried the minds of the people, and the spiritual authorities were so eaten up and lazy that they were all questions addressed to them answered with a short nod in the direction of the sky. So the appearance of Six-Fingered with a student was very helpful.

“They are waiting for a sermon,” the Recluse said.

- Well, give them something, - muttered Six-Fingered. “I’m a fool, you know.

“They will eat me, these gods,” he said. - I feel.

- Oh well. Calm down, - said the Recluse, turned to the crowd by the hill and assumed a prayer pose: he lifted his head up and raised his hands. - Hey you! He shouted. - Soon all will go to hell. You will be roasted there, and the most sinful before that will be pickled in vinegar.

A sigh of horror swept over the society.

- I, by the will of the gods and their messenger, my lord, want to teach you how to be saved. For this, sin must be overcome. Do you even know what sin is?

The answer was silence.

- A sin is being overweight. Your flesh is sinful, for it is because of it that the gods defeat you. Think what brings re ... Scary Soup closer? Yes, exactly what you get overgrown with fat. For the thin will be saved, but the fat ones will not. Truly so: not one bony and blue will be thrown into the flame, but thick and pink will be there all. But those who will from now on and before the Terrible Soup fast will find a second life. Hey, Lord! Now get up and sin no more.

But no one got up - everyone lay on the ground and silently looked - some at the Recluse waving his hands, some into the depths of the sky. Many were crying. Perhaps only the high priests did not like the Recluse's speech.

- Why are you so, - whispered Six-Fingered, when the Recluse sank down on the straw, - they believe you.

- Am I lying? - answered the Hermit. - If they lose a lot of weight, they will be sent to the second feeding cycle. And then maybe the third. Yes, God bless them, let's better think about business.

8.

The recluse often talked to the people, teaching them how to give themselves the most unappetizing appearance, and Six-Fingered most of the time sat on his straw hill and reflected on the nature of flight. He almost did not participate in conversations with the people and only occasionally absentmindedly blessed the laity crawling up to him. The former high priests, who were not at all going to lose weight, looked at him with hatred, but could not do anything, because more and more gods approached the world, pulled out Six-Fingered, looked at him and showed each other. Once among them there was even a flabby gray old man, accompanied by a large retinue, to whom the other gods treated with utmost respect. The old man took him in his arms, and Six-Fingered spitefully smacked him right on his cold, shaking palm, after which he was rather rudely put into place.

And at night, when everyone fell asleep, she and the Recluse continued to desperately train their hands - the less they believed that this would lead to anything, the more they made efforts. Their hands grew to such an extent that to deal with the pieces of iron, on which the Recluse disassembled the feeder-drinker (in society, everyone was fasting and looked almost transparent), there was no more opportunity - as soon as he waved his hands a little, his legs were off the ground and had to stop the exercise. This was the very difficulty that the Recluse had warned Six-Fingered about at one time, but they managed to get around it - the Recluse knew how to strengthen the muscles with static exercises, and taught Six-Toed to this. The green gate was already visible beyond the Wall of the World, and, according to the Recluse's calculations, only a dozen eclipses remained before the Terrible Soup. The gods did not particularly frighten Six-Fingered - he managed to get used to their constant attention and perceived him with disgust. His state of mind returned to normal, and he, in order to somehow have fun, began to speak with obscure dark sermons that literally shook the flock. Once he remembered One-Eye's story about the underground universe and, in a fit of inspiration, described the preparation of soup for one hundred and sixty demons in green robes in such minute details that in the end he not only got scared to the point of stupidity, but also greatly frightened the Recluse, who at the beginning of his speech only grunted ... Many of the flock learned this sermon by heart, and it was called "Ocolepsis of the Blue Ribbon" - that was the sacred name of Six-Fingered. After that, even the former high priests gave up eating and ran for hours around the half-disassembled trough-trough, trying to get rid of fat.

Since both the Recluse and Six-Fingered ate each for two, the Recluse had to compose a special dogma on infallibility, which quickly stopped various conversations in a whisper.

But if Six-Fingered, after the shock he had experienced, quickly returned to normal, then something was wrong with the Recluse. It seemed that Six-Fingered's depression had passed on to him, and with each passing hour he became more and more withdrawn.

One day he said to Six-Fingered:

“You know, if nothing comes of it, I'll go with everyone to Workshop number one.

Six-fingered was about to open his mouth, but the Recluse stopped him:

- And since nothing will come of it for sure, it can be considered solved.

Six-fingered suddenly realized that what he was just about to say was completely unnecessary. He could not change someone else's decision, but could only express his affection for the Recluse - whatever he said, the meaning would be just that. Previously, he probably would not have resisted unnecessary chatter, but recently something has changed in him. And in response, he simply nodded his head, stepped aside and plunged into thought. Soon he returned and said:

- I'll go with you too.

“No,” said the Recluse, “you must not do this under any circumstances. Now you know almost everything that I know. And you must definitely stay and find yourself a student. Maybe at least he will come close to the ability to fly.

- Do you want me to be alone? Six-Fingered asked irritably. - With this cattle?

And he pointed to the flock stretching out on the ground at the beginning of the conversation of the prophets: identical trembling emaciated bodies covered almost all visible space.

“They are not cattle,” said the Recluse, “they are more like children.

The recluse looked at his legs with a grin.

- I wonder if you remember what you were like before we met?

Six-fingered thought and was embarrassed.

“No,” he said finally, “I don’t remember. Honestly, I don't remember.

- All right, - said the Hermit, - do as you like.

This ended the conversation.

The days left to finish flew by quickly. One morning, when the congregation was just tearing its eyes, the Recluse and Six-Fingered noticed that the green gate, which only yesterday seemed so distant, was hanging over the Wall of the World itself. They looked at each other and the Recluse said:

“Today we will make our last attempt. The latter because there will be no one to do it tomorrow. Now we will go to the Wall of the World so that this hubbub does not interfere with us, and from there we will try to transfer ourselves to the dome of the feeder-drinker. If we don't succeed, then let's say goodbye to the world.

- How it's done? - Out of habit asked Six-Fingered.

The recluse looked at him in surprise.

“How do I know how it's done,” he said.

Everyone was told that the prophets are going to communicate with the gods. Soon, the Recluse and Six-Fingered were already near the Wall of the World, where they sat with their backs against it.

- Remember, - said the Hermit, - you have to imagine that you are already there, and then ...

Six-fingered closed his eyes, focused all his attention on his hands, and began to think about the rubber hose that went to the roof of the trough. Gradually he went into a trance, and he had a clear feeling that this hose is very close to him - at arm's length. Previously, Six-Fingered was in a hurry to open his eyes, and it always turned out that he was sitting in the same place where he sat. But today he decided to try something new. If you slowly bring your hands together, he thought, so that the hose is between them, what then? Carefully, trying to maintain the achieved confidence that the hose is very close, he began to pull his hands together. And when they, converging in a place where there was a void before that, touched the hose, he could not stand it and screamed with all his might:

- There is! - and opened his eyes.

“Hush, you fool,” said the Recluse standing in front of him, whose leg he was squeezing. - Look.

Six-toed jumped to his feet and turned around. The gate of Workshop number one was open, and their doors slowly floated along the sides and above.

“Here we are,” said the Recluse. - Let's go back.

On the way back, they didn't say a word. The conveyor belt moved at the same speed as Zatvornik and Six-fingered, only in the other direction, and therefore the entrance to Workshop number one was all the way where they were. And when they reached their places of honor near the trough-drinker, the entrance covered them and floated on.

The recluse summoned one of the flock to him.

“Listen,” he said. - Only calmly! Go and tell the others that Scary Soup is here. See how the sky has darkened?

- What to do now? He asked hopefully.

“Everyone sit on the ground and do this,” said the Recluse, and covered his eyes with his hands. - And not to spy, otherwise we will never vouch for anything. And to be quiet.

At first there was a hubbub all the same. But he quickly died down - everyone sat down on the ground and did as the Recluse ordered.

- Well, - said Six-Fingered, - let's say goodbye to the world?

- Come on, - replied the Hermit, - you are the first.

Six-fingered got up, looked around, sighed and sat down.

- Everything? The Recluse asked.

Six-fingered nodded.

“Now I am,” the Recluse said, getting up, lifted his head and shouted with all his might: “Peace! Goodbye!

9.

Two huge faces appeared over the Wall of the World. They were gods.

- Well, rubbish, - said the first person contritely. - It is not clear what to do with them. They are all half-dead.

A huge hand in a white, blood-stained and down-stuck sleeve swept over the world and touched the feeder-drinker.

- Semyon, your mother, where are you looking? Their feeder is broken!

- The whole was, - answered the bass. - I checked everything at the beginning of the month. Well, are we going to score?

- No, we won't. Let's turn on the conveyor belt, fit another container, and here - so that tomorrow the feeder can be repaired. How they have not died just ...

- And about this one, which has six fingers - you chop both legs?

- Let's both.

- I wanted one myself.

The recluse turned to Six-Fingered, listening attentively, but understanding almost nothing.

“Listen,” he whispered, “it seems they want ...

But at that moment, a huge white hand again darted across the sky and grabbed Six-Fingered.

Six-fingered did not understand what the Recluse wanted to say. A palm grabbed him, tore him off the ground, then a huge chest with a fountain pen sticking out of his pocket, a shirt collar, and, finally, a pair of large bulging eyes that stared at him at close range.

- Look, wings. Like an eagle! Said a mouth of unprecedented size, behind which lumpy teeth turned yellow.

Six-fingered has long been accustomed to being in the hands of the gods. But now a strange, frightening vibration emanated from the palms that held him. From the conversation, he only understood that it was not about his hands, or about his legs, and then from somewhere below came the mad cry of the Recluse:

- Six-fingered! Run! Peck him in the face!

For the first time since their acquaintance, despair sounded in Hermit's voice. And Six-Fingered was frightened, to such an extent frightened that all his actions acquired a somnambulistic infallibility - he pecked the eye that was hatched on him with all his might and immediately began to beat the god’s sweaty face with his hands on both sides with incredible speed.

There was a roar of such intensity that Six-Fingered took it not as a sound, but as pressure on the entire surface of his body. The god's palms unclenched, and the next moment Six-Fingered noticed that he was under the ceiling and, leaning on nothing, was hanging in the air. At first he did not understand what was the matter, and then he saw that by inertia he continued to wave his arms and it was they who kept him in the void. From here, one could see what Workshop Number One was: it was a section of the conveyor fenced off on both sides, next to which stood a long wooden table covered in red and brown spots, strewn with down and feathers, and stacks of transparent bags. The world where the Recluse remained looked like just a large rectangular container filled with many immovable tiny bodies. Six-fingered did not see the Hermit, but he was sure that he saw him.

- Hey, - he shouted, flying in circles near the ceiling, - Recluse! Come here! Wave your arms as fast as possible!

Below, in the container, something flashed and, rapidly growing in size, began to approach - and now the Recluse was nearby. He made several circles after Six-Fingered, and then shouted:

- Let's sit over there!

When Six-Toes flew up to a square patch of dull whitish light, crossed by a narrow cross, the Recluse was already sitting on the windowsill.

“A wall,” he said as Six-Fingered landed nearby, “a wall of light.

The recluse was outwardly calm, but Six-Fingered knew him well and saw that he was a little out of his mind from what was happening. The same thing happened with Six-Fingered. And suddenly it dawned on him.

“Listen,” he cried, “but this is flight! We flew!

The recluse nodded his head.

“I got it already,” he said. - The truth is so simple that it is even insulting for it.

Meanwhile, the random flickering of figures below calmed down somewhat, and it became clear that two in white coats were holding the third, holding his face with his hand.

- Bitch! He knocked out my eye! Bitch! - shouted this third.

- What is a bitch? Asked Six-Fingered.

“This is a way of addressing one of the elements,” the Hermit replied. - This word has no proper meaning.

- What element is he addressing? Asked Six-Fingered.

“We’ll see,” said the Hermit.

While the Recluse was uttering these words, the god escaped from the hands that held him, rushed to the wall, tore off a red fire extinguisher canister and threw it at those sitting on the windowsill - he did it so quickly that no one was able to stop him, and the Recluse and Six-Fingered barely managed to take off in different sides.

There was a clang and a crash. The fire extinguisher, breaking through the window, disappeared, and a wave of fresh air burst into the room - only after that it became clear how it smelled. It became incredibly light.

- Let's fly! Shouted the Recluse, suddenly losing all his equanimity. - Alive! Forward!

Six-fingered, accelerating, rushed in a circle. The last time below was an octagonal container, a blood-stained table, and the gods waving their arms - wings folded, it whizzed through the hole.

At first he went blind for a second - so bright was the light. Then his eyes got used to it, and he saw in front and above a circle of yellow-white fire of such brightness that it was impossible to look at it even from the corner of his eye. A dark dot could be seen even higher - it was the Recluse. He turned around so Six-Fingered could catch up with him, and soon they were flying alongside.

Six-fingered looked around - far below there was a huge and ugly gray building, on which there were only a few windows painted over with oil paint. One of them was broken. Everything around was such pure and bright colors that Six-Fingered, so as not to go mad, began to look up.

It was surprisingly easy to fly - it took no more effort than walking. They climbed higher and higher, and soon everything below became just multi-colored squares and spots.

Six-fingered turned his head towards the Recluse.

- Where to? He shouted.

“South,” the Hermit replied shortly.

- What is it? Asked Six-Fingered.

“I don’t know,” the Hermit replied, “but it’s over there.

And he waved his wing in the direction of a huge sparkling circle, only in color reminiscent of what they once called luminaries.

A broiler chick named Recluse was able to get out of its incubator cage and visit several other cages (societies). In each cell, a community of chickens grew, with their own ideas about the structure of the world and social hierarchy.

The recluse, possessing extraordinary mental abilities, realized that their universe is a kind of combine (Lunacharsky Broiler Plant), ruled by gods (people). The rest of the chickens living within the framework of their society did not understand their purpose and origin (but built various hypotheses). The recluse realized that they were grown for food for the gods.

One day, the Recluse met a chicken who was born with six fingers and was expelled from his society for this. The recluse made Six-Fingered his disciple.

Together they traveled from world to world (from cell to cell), accumulating and generalizing knowledge and experience (there were 70 worlds in total). The Recluse's highest goal was to comprehend some mysterious phenomenon called "flight". The recluse believes: having mastered "flight", he will be able to escape from the universe of the plant. Unable to comprehend "flight", but knowing that it was somehow connected with the wings, the Recluse began to train his wings with nuts (forcing Six-Fingered to do the same).

... - Are you sure you can learn to fly this way?

- No. Not sure. On the contrary, I suspect it is a futile exercise.

- Why then is it needed? If you yourself know that it is useless?

- How to say to you. Because, besides this, I know many other things, and one of them is this: if you find yourself in the dark and see at least the faintest ray of light, you must go to it, instead of reasoning, it makes sense to do it or no. Maybe it really doesn't make sense. But just sitting in the dark doesn't make sense anyway. Do you understand the difference? ...

At one point, the Recluse and Six-Fingered were caught by the "gods", glued a tape to Six-Fingered's leg and placed in a cage, in which the chickens were almost ready for slaughter. The local community perceived friends as messengers of the gods. The recluse, realizing that they would soon die, began to advocate refusal to eat (too thin chickens were sent back to fattening). By the way, at the end of the story it turned out that this really prolonged their lives.

... Well, rubbish, - the first person remarked contritely. - It is not clear what to do with them. They are all half-dead. Well, are we going to score?

- No, we won't. Let's turn on the conveyor belt, fit another container, and here - so that tomorrow the feeder will be repaired. How they have not died just ...

The recluse was tired of the difficulty of comprehending the world and, similarly, was going to make a last attempt (to climb the dome of the feeder) and, in case of failure, commit suicide by going to the slaughter with other chickens.

But, at that moment, people grabbed him and Six-Fingered (they were going to cut off the legs of Six-Fingered and take them as a souvenir). And then a miracle happened. The trained wings of the chicks helped them to escape from the hands of humans and fly out of the cage. Only now did the Recluse understand what flight is.

... Listen, - he cried, - but this is flight! We flew!

The recluse nodded his head.

“I got it already,” he said. - The truth is so simple that it is even insulting for it ...

Friends were able to get out of the plant through a broken window and fly into the big world.

An excerpt from the story

- After death, we are usually plunged into hell. I counted at least fifty varieties of what is happening there. Sometimes the dead are cut into pieces and fried in huge pans. Sometimes it is baked entirely in iron rooms with a glass door, where a blue flame burns or white-hot metal pillars radiate heat. Sometimes we are boiled in giant multi-colored pots. And sometimes, on the contrary, they are frozen in a piece of ice. In general, little comforting.

- Who does it, huh?

- Like who? Gods.

- Why would they?

“You see, we are their food.

Six-fingered shuddered, and then looked closely at his trembling knees.

“They love the legs most of all,” remarked the Recluse. - Well, hands too. It is about the hands that I am going to talk with you. Pick them up.

Six-fingered arms stretched out in front of him - thin, powerless, they looked rather pathetic.

“Once they served us for flight,” said the Recluse, “but then everything changed.

- What is flight?

- Nobody knows for sure. The only thing that is known is that you need to have strong hands. Much stronger than you or even me. Therefore, I want to teach you one exercise. Take two nuts.

Six-fingered with difficulty pulled two heavy objects to the feet of the Recluse.

- Like this. Now push the ends of your hands through the holes.

Six-fingered did that too.

- Now raise and lower your hands up and down ... That's it.

A minute later Six-Fingered was tired to such an extent that he could not do another swing, no matter how hard he tried.

- Everything, - he said, dropped his hands, and the nuts fell to the floor.

“Now look at how I’m doing,” the Recluse said, and put five nuts on each hand. For several minutes he kept his arms spread apart and did not seem to be tired at all. - Well, how?