Talk:Alexander Gromov/Translated pieces

Soft Landing

Adaptants looked completely as oakcephalics, although they could be distinguished in rare situations:

Each hidden adaptand touchs first or last that the teacher is as well vulnerable. Just then such a fury flares up in his eyes, that a normal person really shrinks aside. It's important not to miss this moment. A weird fure, inhuman. Virtually, an adaptant isn't a human, he only isn't aware of it. A curious thing, eyes of an adaptant. The sign of species, equally as the hair of mammoth, and it's impossible to fabricate one — adaptants feel the alien with their inside. If we could introduce our people into street flocks, perhaps one could live in the city.

An interesting episode concerns Sergei's job: while testing the stream of oakcephalics (who study the cuted course of 2 years), he found one of them to be a normal person:

"Rybin, come here."

A delicate youth, somewhat depressed one. Face is good, and look the dumbiest. But it was he who solved adaptant's problem, or I know nothing in my profession and it only remains to be fired. Not a rat, for sure. And certainly not an adaptant. In my mind, he even isn't an oakcephalic.

"Well, answer."

The depressed one begins to explain passing his finger and painfully selecting words. Hamming and hewing. When a word has synonyms he chooses the most idiotic.

"That will do." I stop him, "Why don't you learn at the first stream?"

He winks stupidly, inserts a finger in his nose up to the second phalange and flaps his mouth like a fished out carp. He overplays.

"Well, enough of that." I say sharply, "You played a bit and enough. All is clear. You don't want to be open, and it's not needed. You aren't a moron and hold the other's place. I will be obliged to report about you to the Sorting Committee."

I am not at all joking and this reachs him. He puts out the stupid expression from face. Diffidence remains.

The false moron looks sideways over his shoulder with fright on his face. I can't confuse real fright with faked.

"You may speak, the place is sound-proofed."

He explains his situation inconsequently. He doesn't attempt to get a tear out of me and I like that. He can't send mother and sister out of the city. No, not necessarily to the South. They haven't the possibility to depart. When he brought documents in the last year he asked at once whether a request to take external exams would be viewed. He was asked if he had considered himself the cleverest of all. He was answered no. Then he cheated the Sorting Committee. He has to, for certain he has to complete the institute in two years, they wouldn't bear longer. When he leaves for assignment he will be able to take relatives with him, he inquired.

I ask leading questions and hit the point. Mother? Yes, ill. But it's recent with her, after his sister was caught by adaptants and couldn't be found for two days; as it is she's a strong woman. Sister? No, sis is alive. But... On the whole, she...

Unfortunately, I understand quite well what happened with her.

"Are you sane at all?" At first I speak in a calm and admonishing manner as an elder who they say looks farther and knows better. Then I don't control myself, strike the table with my fist, shout and splash. "A know-all! A clinical idiot! You got glad — two years! But with so diploma you will blow off dust for all your life from voltmeters at some electrostation in Larbytnangi! For all your life, until you are frozen in ice with your electrostation, do you realize?"

He nods dejectedly. Then he begins to explain with animation that all is not that frightening as it seems to me, one only needs to depart and wait for several years, and then all will surely change, it's impossible for it not to change, it can't happen...

Such conversations last for five minutes but you get tired with them as with a training in Uncle Kolya's basement. The chap is right in his own way. And I can't do anything for him. Only just not to chatter anywhere, but the chap doesn't need more in fact... Sometimes you think that the one who devised our society was mad from birth.

"Go." I nod exhaustedly, "Satisfactory. And... I wish luck."

He thanks. Leaving, he looks around.

"Sorry, Sergei Yevgenyevich, but how have you learned?"

"The mistake in your problem," I say, "is so stupid that this is even talented."

"Thank you." He sais, "Great thanks. I will take measures."

He will do. He will adjust tactics, will begin to rehearsh shedding saliva in front of a mirror and won't be caught again. I know such people.

Year of Lemming

A healthy spite began waking up in me -- just, a means of self-defense. I don't stand being guilty, and that's all {...} Why do you look on me? Answer me, what is better -- to take the responsibility of one's death and to save a thousand ones so, or to be not implicated in the death of the whole thousand? Have you never happened to die slowly -- day by day -- under ruins of the building, that some fucker hasn't built seismically proofed? I saw how it occurred, and it's untruth that the hope dies the last. {...}

Half a century ago we didn't exist yet -- embryos did, foetuses of today's Services with laughable actual might. {...} For me one thing was always utterly clear: somebody has to do so that on our manysinful, wrongly arranged planet one may live, though.{...}

Sanitary Service. Service of Technology Supervision and Protection of the Environment. Rescue and Emergency Service. Service of Mental Health of the Population {...}

Four pillars, propping up this world.