Ah, where am I? What kind of sterility is this, compared with which sterility of the operating room, I beg your pardon, is public toilet?! Why is everything «sterile» so much that there is nothing… not even what should be sterile?! As the saying goes: «where is everyone»?! Where did it go, but if it was not, then why? If this is the «solitary prison cell of personal hell», then I am against… although no one asks for my opinion. But, all the same: I, all my life, did not tolerate society, posthumously are with both hands for the «labor collective», because «without friends I’m a little bit, and with friends I’m a lot!»
Interestingly, is my stay here stationary, with reference to one point, something like a statue on a pedestal – or?.. I strain the thought – and it seems, to be making a move! Well, as I «commit»: I feel… at the level of consciousness, that I am starting to move. It would be nice to understand: what? A strange feeling: this «movement» does not meet the slightest resistance. Here it is – the ideal of the strength of materials, compared with which the phenomenon of superfluidity is the Neanderthal ax in comparison with the present-day combat laser!
«I go on milestones», but, alas: I do not come across. Everything is like in a poem: «I go out alone on the road – and, at least, hell was walking along it!». This is unpleasant feeling, true, it seems, the only one of its kind. I don’t feel other unpleasant sensations, such as: hunger, cold, thirst, heat. The presence of the «administration of the corrective-labor institution», as well as the red-hot frying pan under the butt is not felt either. So, this is not hell… it seems. Well, that doesn’t seem like hell, even if it doesn’t seem like anything else.
It’s strange… If this is not hell, then why are there no signs of its opposite? Where is paradise, or, at least, its «waiting room»? Where is the classic? Or, maybe, I’m going to the «wrong path of the wrong» – that is, an atheist of the «Christian bottling»? But after all, Muslims have a paradise, which looks like «the country of Limonia, where there are forty calls – and all for lunch!» Why then do not I see cool gardens and hot in love virgins? And if this is a «Buddhist-Hindu type paradise», where, at least, a sense of peace and tranquility? Rest, unfortunately, «we only dream»!
Hence the conclusion: this is not paradise. But, if this is something like a «transfer», then it was possible to equip it with at least a minimum of amenities! The same is true for the quarantine case. Or in this quarantine place applicant experiencing more and thoughts… «lice»? Well, if this is so, then that’s swinishness. Not only were people frightened on Earth: now «for your deeds…», «according to your faith…» – so also thought went to the credit as evidence!
«I go» further, but there is nothing more here, nothing and no one. «Not heard there is even rustling in the garden…» But, hush! It seems that there is something or someone. In any case, I feel a stirring of thought. And not his own: somewhere next door. I strain my ears… or what I have now – and for sure: «hello?» meet me! Not literally, of course, but the oncoming movement is obvious!.. That is, I wanted to say that… well, signs of life… being… well, or staying were found. And that’s not classic turbulence, but something like a «mental movement».
I feel: vis-à-vis is also happy to society, although it does not hurry to me «with an outstretched hand». I take the initiative.
«Who are you?»
The appeal «to you» is not due to lack of culture: it is customary to talk with the dead and «spirits». Separate misunderstandings are problems of «separately misunderstanding» people. But I just «correspond». And I «conform» to the commonly understood «language of thoughts», as if talking to a fellow tribesman – in the sense, that translation services are not required.
«And you?»
But this is impolite. In our twenty-first century, it is somehow not accepted to answer a question with a question. Maybe, comrade «arrived from afar»?
«I am from the twenty-first century. And what are you from?»
«Twenty first century after the birth of Christ?!»
I do not see, but I feel like a guy… it seems like a guy – «the jaw falls off» and «the eyes roll out». Due to the proper reaction, I nobly release him a relapse of lack of culture.
«Yes, it is. Judging by the question, you are unlikely an ancient Greek or ancient Roman. So, where are you from?»
«The fifteenth century after the birth of Christ.
Now it is my turn to «weigh the jaw» and «bulge the eyes», albeit let it be conditional and the one and the other.
«And you have been here since the fifteenth century?!»
In response, I feel something with a sorrowful sigh and a no less sorrowful nod with an absent head.
«Alone?!» I continue to «weigh the jaw», combining this event with the earthly profession of an investigator.
«No, there are some people.»
It’s easier already!
«Where is everyone? Where is the population… or, like, there, its: society?»
The guy sighs again.
«There is no society: there is only a population. And society is not only in a scientific sense, but also each other’s societies.»
«No communication?»
«Yes. Each is by itself. We can only communicate with contemporaries. But with each other we have already talked so much, that sick of one thought to speak again. Therefore, we try to stay well away from each other. And what: there is enough space.»
I «wrinkle» my missing forehead and «wonder by missing eyebrows».
«Only with contemporaries? These are the „rules of the game“ or not a unifying beginning?»
The guy respectfully «looks» at me.
«And you, sir, I suppose, here recently?»
Well, this is a completely different thing: «Sir»! I feel that I approve.
«I just arrived.»
«You are welcome. How are you settled?»
I «grin»: lo, you – and the fifteenth century!»
«Yes… here…»
And I «wrap my arms around» nothing.
«Not bad!» Counterpart «nodding» approvingly.
«That’s it!» I am not approvingly reacting. «That’s in another sense: there is nothing! Do you understand?»
The guy suddenly «smirks».
«Do I look like a brainless ram?»
It’s «heard» something native in its intonations, something from the «edges of native aspens».
«Where did you come from, buddy? Well, where are you from?»
«Florence, senor.»
«After the plague?»
«In the eye» of the interlocutor I easily read respectful amazement. I consider it possible to give «face» a small portion of indulgence.
«I read „The Decameron“ of Boccaccio – and more than once.»
Attitudes towards me immediately change: I feel it even missing skin. Now vis-à-vis breathes me one sympathy.
«Where are you from, senor?»
«Russia.»
The guy «does not turn on».
«Muscovy!»