"Alexander Abramov, Sergei Abramov. Journey Across Three Worlds (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

The same face, the same age, even the hairdo was the same. Only the
ear-rings were unfamiliar, and I'd never seen her wear that kind of suit
before. I stood speechless, repressing my excitement by sheer force of will.
"What did you make up all this for?" asked Galya.
I was silent.
"I just saw Olga. She's gone home and expects you for supper. She said
you were going to take her to see the Leningrad Ballet."
I was silent.
"What kind of joke is this? And to play it on Lena. What for?"
I could find no words to answer her. Everything was ruined. What
explanation would satisfy them? The truth? Who, in my position, would dare
to tell the truth?"
"Lena says you're sick," Galya continued, giving me a searching look.
"Maybe you are really sick?"
"Maybe I am," I repeated.
I did not know my own voice: it seemed alien and far away.
"Well then," I added, "you must excuse me. I guess I'll just run
along."
"Where?" asked Galya, with a start. "We won't let you go alone. I'll
take you home." She looked out the window. "My cab's still there. Run after
it, Lena. Maybe you'll manage to hold it."
Now we were alone.
"What does all this mean, Sergei? I don't understand it," said Galya.
"I don't either," I replied.
"But even so?"
"You're a physicist, I believe, aren't you, Galya?" I threw out at
random.
She was sharply alert. "So what?"
"Can you picture the notion of a plurality of worlds? Worlds existing
side by side? Being at the same moment both mysteriously remote and yet
amazingly close?"
"Let's suppose that. Such hypotheses do exist."
"Then just suppose that one of these worlds right next door is similar
to ours. That it also has a Moscow, only a wee bit different. Perhaps even
the same streets, but with other ornamentation. Sometimes, the very same
house but with a different street number. And that you are there, and I, and
Lena - only our relationships differ...."
She still didn't get it. But I had got fed up with the spiritual
masquerade long before. So I dared to open up.
"Let's suppose that in that other Moscow your name isn't Galya
Novoseltseva, but Galya Gromova. That six years ago you and I left this room
to be married at the Registry. And today a miracle happened: I broke through
the membrane barrier ... and looked into your world. There you have a devil
of a problem for our limited brains."
Now she looked at me with real fright. Probably she was thinking along
the lines of Lena: a sudden madness, raving.
"All right, let's leave it lie," I said wryly. "Take me wherever you
wish, I don't care. And don't be scared - I won't choke you or kiss you.
There's Lena waving at us. Come on."