"Viktor Pelevin. Generation P (fragment, англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автораnatural philosophy and believed that it's his duty to balance the dark
side with the bright one. Despite this brilliant hypothesis, Tatarsky had eagerly "lost" his passport when he was 18 and got the new one with the name Vladimir in it. After that his life was pretty ordinary. He entered the technical college - obviously not because he loved engineering (his major was some obscure electric smelting ovens) but because he didn't want to go to the army. "There's a draft in Russia, every male of age 18 and who is not college student is the subject to the draft" But when he was 21, something had happened in his life that had decided his further fate. Being on summer vacation in the village, he read a small book by Boris Pasternak. The poems, towards which he was always neutral before, shook him so hard that he could not think about anything else for several weeks and then began to write himself. He remembered forever the rusty carcass of the bus, awkwardly stuck in the soil in the forest glade not far from Moscow. It was this place where the very first line came to his mind: "Sardines of clouds are flying to the South" (later he began to think that this poem smells of fish). So, this was a typical case and it had ended typically: Tatarsky had entered the Literature Institute. He didn't manage to pass to the Poetry Department though, so he had to be content with translations from the Soviet Republics' languages. Tatarsky imagined his future like this: an empty auditorium in the LitInstitute during the day, the context translation from the Uzbek or Kyrgyz which he must rhyme by the deadline, and the labors in the name of Eternity in the evenings. Then one event that was crucially important for his future had happened approximately at the same time when Tatarsky decided to change profession, have become so much better that ceased to exist (if it's possible for the state to get into Nirvana, then it was exactly the case). So it made no sense anymore to speak about translations from USSR republics' languages. It was a hard blow but Tatarsky survived it: he still had the work for the Eternity left and it was enough for him. At this point something absolutely unexpected had happened. Something began to happen even to the Eternity itself to which Tatarsky had decided to devote his labors and days. This was something that Tatarsky had absolutely no way to understand. Wasn't the Eternity something rigid, inviolable and independent of volatile Earthly situations? At least he always used to think so. For instance, if that small Pasternak's volume that had changed his whole life so drastically was already in there, there was no force in existence that could purge it from there. It turned out to be not exactly true. It turned out that the Eternity existed only while Tatarsky believed in it sincerely, and nowhere beyond this faith did it really exist. In order to faithfully believe in Eternity, one needs others to share his faith because the faith not shared by anybody is called schizophrenia. As for the others, including those who always taught Tatarsky to believe in Eternity - something weird began to happen to them. Not that they had changed their views, no. The very space to which these previous views were directed to (the view must always be directed somewhere, right?), had begun to reduce itself and to disappear until the |
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