Masha realized this as she looked up at the sky, the sky looming above her. Clouds, gray and blue. They're the kind of shape that consciousness presents and the mind doesn't project, the kind you can only see, and only above yourself… Maybe that's the point of the Sky. To remind people of beauty when they can't see anything else… There were wars, there were generals. This general won a hundred battles, destroyed a hundred cities, and looked at him, the Sky. Onon did not become lower, did not become more submissive, but remained just as beautiful and kind, no matter how much blood he saw spilled, no matter how many lives he saw ruined… And this general stopped, said: "There is no point in our wars. There is no point in our dark hearts that conquered the world, killing everyone. "We submit to the Earth because we are its children.
— Maybe it never was — Masha thought, lifting her head up, facing the Sky — but it's beautiful… Maybe they didn't spend decades in the mine and got used to Him… Still, that doesn't diminish its beauty. It's not food that you can get enough of, it's endless, like love.
She remembered her analogy: love and art. And really, it's so similar… Why do you like Yesenin's poems? I don't know, I just do… Why do you love someone? I don't know, I just love… And how united it is by beauty. You like it because it's beautiful. You love because it's beautiful… And it's beautiful somewhere inside and only for yourself. I like it and he doesn't. I love it and others don't.
After these words, Masha breathed easier. As the Sun breathes fire, so we breathe beauty, in love and in art… And Dostoevsky was not quite right when he said that "beauty will save the world". It doesn't. It is already doing it, it is already "saving the world". And even if it didn't stop bloody generals, it nourished people's minds with life. So that they see the beauty, so that they stop their generals, so that there was someone to admire the Heaven.
"It was thunder in the distance, And all is calm again….
All lies in the silence of the night."
Someone sang it a long time ago. And that's how Nature spoke to us, all together, all our good Earth. Showing that she's above us, that she's higher than us. That she loves us… Otherwise she would not be so beautiful, so tender to us. And we drink her water, eat her food, breathe her air, warm ourselves with her fire.
And we can't live without her, just as she can't live without her children. And we love it as we saw it at birth.
That place becomes home.
The earth is big and different. And therein lies the beginning of the soul. It's so beautiful at home. Like art. Like Love. It's beautiful.
Masha thought about that word because of the baby. It would be born very soon. Her and her husband's child. And it will look so much like the one she loves. And he'll be closer, at least one step closer. And there will be someone to live for…
Spider — Prefect Room #113 of Circular 18B.
Dmitri told Prinhru that those who were as interested in the SSchekists as he was would be waiting for him there. He said it was a church.
Everything is dark, and it smells human.
The door slammed shut and the tent froze. In place. To listen to whoever came in after him. In exactly two hours. It seemed to him that was enough time to be here before whoever wanted to set him up. Exactly, he thought, "Who would pass such things through people? Either people, but there's no reason for them to, or someone who has no one else here to rely on. And that's SCK."
Even people he hated less than the Social Security agents. He simply regarded them as useful cattle. But the S.S.C. couldn't even find a word to say. They shoot both their own and strangers. And they gave people "special conditions". Now they want to catch him, accuse him of some nonsense and send him to a camp. A plague camp, guarded by the same S.S.C. guards.
And now there's an opportunity to catch one. Talk to him, play with him, and kill him. That's why he came here— to kill–
Sharp as the edge of the Earth. Steel as a prefect. Dangerous as poison. The knife blade lay across his throat. The handle and hand were out of sight, as was the man standing behind him. Prinhr paled.
— Shi uzy ka sa-da (I suppose we've waited long enough?)," Tikhomirov whispered in the plague language.
— Sok Tuve? (Who are you?) asked the chum. I didn't want to kill anymore, I wanted not to be a fool next time.
— Ku Tobim (Black Stone Service).
— Doh Tim Tuwe (What do you want?).
— Shak tim shinoy vik. Kosba. Shtur… Chvoi tih tush? (I want to kill you. I can't. Need… Do us a favor) — it didn't sound like a question, as if the choice was impossible.
Once done and gone, that's how he thought.
— Szczuch (Yes).
— Vic zhir zhir wak du Kozhaj and zama Torquessim. (You should find out what the Church and especially the Inquisition might be interested in here)
— Torquessim? (Inquisition?)
The blade shifted, stabbing the plague.
— Itu za ba. (You can stay here.)
— Shun. Shak tri-doo (No. I'll do it)
— Ta tubi takon. Leyah shrok (Come back here in exactly one month. Leave a note.) It's been a second. — Boo jusha? (All right?) — Szczuch (Yes).
— Toch (Good) — whispered Tikhomirov and knocked him in the back with all his might. Chum fell to the floor, unconscious. ***
Prefect's office.
Even just looking at him wasn't so easy anymore without some sort of permission. And that's what Tikhomirova thought. What others thought of it — one could only guess. The prefect radiated strength and purposefulness with his one look. One look of his, apparently, was capable of breaking a hole in a concrete wall. And with that gaze he was now looking at his papers. There was something in them that no one could know, but it was something he was about to share.
— Have a seat. — said the Mountain. — We'll be here a long time.
Tikhomirov sat down and made some sort of willful effort not to look at what lay on the table.
— Here, take a look at this. — Gora held out some papers. — A document from Shinhra.
Most were in the plague language, but there were some in Russian. For example, this copy of a report from the call sign "Coyote" to the JCC:
"Secret. Report on the support of the Imperial Army near the city of Kremenchug.
To the head of the East Slavic Column Zakinhr.
I report that our grouping of 28th Hivi Regiment provided fire support to the Imperial Army, as well as a combat breakthrough through the use of three available T-95 tanks equipped with KAZ systems.
In spite of the casualties received, the 28th Regiment was able to take the positions indicated on the waybill in the time given.
The information transmitted through Desna's encrypted channels turned out to be exactly correct.
Losses of the 28th Regiment: 137 killed, 228 wounded, 8 armored vehicles, including 1 pcs. Т-95. Assessment of the Imperial Army's actions: without our support they would not have succeeded.
They acted inconsistently and out of order.
Signed, Commander Coyote of the 28th Regiment."
The prefect found it very interesting that the work of just one informant among the Maquis was having such success, and moreover that his importance was constantly emphasized even in documents of this kind.
Moreover, what was interesting was that this document, written in Russian, obviously meant the participation of a fighting formation of people on the side of the Chum in a direct confrontation. He had seen several references to the word "Khivi" before, but this was the first where they were operating as some sort of independent force. And it was hard to believe that a unit of humans under the current circumstances could be covering the Imperial army of the Chum, and even using heavy weapons.