Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу автора  Time Jumps. The Paradigm of Immortality

Vladimir Baranchikov

Contents

Physical reality is much more extensive than just a clot of space-time, which we call the universe. Perhaps our world is just one of many.

Prologue

I’m Yellowstone, supervolcano. I spread myself comfortably on a vast plateau surrounded by ridges of the Rocky Mountains in northwestern Wyoming. My gigantic size strikes the boldest of imaginations: a 2800-meter above sea level, a crater destroyed by an eruption, forms a huge, fifty-seventy-kilometer, picturesque valley. The main decoration, my sparkling pearl, is Yellowstone Lake, a hundred meters deep, lying at the foot of my peak. I am a national pride named Yellow Stone, named after the yellow cliffs that border the source of the mountainous Yellowstone River. Did some pebble bestow the nickname of a giant? However, I do not murmur, because during the human habitation in my possessions, I also had other names in other languages. But for a volcano with a life story of sixteen million years, a hundred centuries is a real moment. I’ve seen a lot and it’s time to share one secret… I now sleep peacefully, releasing tons of steam and boiling water through the thousands of geysers sparkling in the fabulous beauty of a park with three hundred waterfalls. It is not for nothing that millions of tourists who have come here from all over the world admire me, and I sympathize with this pilgrimage, paying tribute to the enthusiasm and admired views of nature lovers.

I confess: my sleepy state is deceptive and my character is wayward. From time to time, I explode with a force comparable to a major meteorite hitting Earth. I burst with my own indignation under the monstrous pressure of the melt of magma stored inside me. The enormous pressure of molten basalt, warmed to death, pushes the earth’s crust apart and rips it apart with a monstrous rumble. I salute the world with bright fireworks and the eruption of hot magma, which gives rise to amazing lava covers on the slopes, burning all life in its path. The walls of the crater collapse, and the surrounding earth subsides hundreds of meters into the void created under the crater. So a huge funnel is formed — a circular caldera — with a diameter of several kilometers. I adore scale.

Over the course of my life, I have experienced more than a hundred and forty eruptions. For a volcano, it is as natural as a person to catch a cold and sneeze. The last three super-eruptions occurred 2 million, 1 million 300 thousand and 640,000 years ago. This cyclicity leads me to think that I am ripe for a new one, and it can happen at any time, possibly in 2075. Yes, I am almost ready for this: I feel my gut overflowing with fire, and I hardly restrain the tension. There, at the bottom of the caldera, under a thin partition of rocks, my gift to careless humanity lurks — death. After all, few people imagine how dangerous this is for planet Earth. The consequences will be catastrophic, and it is not my fault that the world will turn upside down — I warned. Or do you think I’m the one who needs to ring all the bells?

PART 1. PETER KALINKIN

CHAPTER 1. A STRANGE FIND

It was a very hot summer in St. Petersburg that year. Yes, yes, it all started with the heat. The heat turned out to be a trigger, a trigger in this chain of amazing events that happened to Pyotr Mikhailovich Kalinkin. Pyotr Mikhailovich was tired of the noise and blue smoke of cars, the crush in traffic jams on the streets and in shops where carts with goods do not comply with traffic rules, and there are no traffic lights. Bedlam, that’s all! He returned home with my purchases and from the threshold to his wife:

— That’s it, damn it, I can’t stay in the city anymore. Let’s go to nature tomorrow!

— And where are we going to sing? — wiping the plate with a long towel draped over her shoulder, Galina Sergeevna asked.

— How to go somewhere — to the Karelian Isthmus, to the lakes! We will stay at the hotel for a week, rest, change the situation. Then maybe we’ll look at a country house…

That’s what he gave out so fateful or unwittingly anticipated? Even in a terrible dream, a peaceful foray into nature does not evoke the idea of an abyss, but in life — what the hell is not joking when God is asleep…

Who knows how much a token is in the subway, he definitely saw Pyotr Mikhailovich — there are at least a dozen of them in one car. Hello to you, but here he is sitting opposite: a shabby black jacket, jeans made of stiff blue fabric, worn shoes and a BMW cap on his gray head. And next to her is a prim lady with stern eyes and a cap of dyed hair, in a gray raincoat, with a black bag and thick — soled shoes — Kalinkina Galina Sergeevna. In the evening, the Kalinkins will definitely stick on the telly: movies about animals and talk shows of naked tits are informative and fun, especially when you feel a certain similarity with the characters. The neighbor from above is sure that Pyotr Mikhailovich is a positive person with a touching weakness: more madly than his wife, he loves his rare “Lada” of pale green color, securely stored for forty years in the city parking lot under a high — voltage line, just five tram stops from home.

In the morning, Pyotr Mikhailovich solemnly rolled his four-wheeled friend out of the garage and soon was slowly steering along the ring road, proudly ignoring the Toyota and Mercedes cars overtaking him. Two hours later, the couple reached the hotel “Rautu” in the center of the village of Sosnovo. From the windows of the hotel room, behind the guest parking lot, a picturesque lake could be seen pleasing the eye. A herd of white goats grazed on the shore, grazing grass, evoking thoughts of fresh milk and a healthy lifestyle.

A week of rest in the countryside flew like a voucher over Russia — easily and serenely, without financial problems. The black cat did not run across the road, the women did not wander around with empty buckets, however, the midges in the forest had a bite — that was, that was. The Kalinkins wandered through the meadows, went to Ladoga and swam in Razdolinsky Lake, the water turned out to be very cool. But the greatest pleasure was the clean air, filled with the smell of herbs and pine needles, which was inhaled like a fragrant balm. Somehow Pyotr Mikhailovich decided to go fishing, but he did not grab spinning from the city in a hurry, admired the water surface at sunset and decided: it’s time to buy a cottage in these parts — a pension is on the horizon. He shared this idea with his wife.

— We will start a small farm, a vegetable garden, we will plant flowers, — Galina Sergeevna supported her husband, and in her dreams she already imagined an idyllic picture of peace in nature: a warm breeze blows, butterflies flutter over broken flower beds, and bright red sides of ripe berries peek out from green strawberry bushes and cheerfully shine in the sun… So it almost came out, but only almost.

Buying real estate is a troublesome business. Cheap offers, as well as money from the Kalinkins, were sparse, and these options were not particularly tempting: they examined old, dilapidated buildings near paved roads with a continuous flow of cars, visited a couple of semi-abandoned unfinished buildings remote from civilization in the middle of forests and fields, without water and electricity. Everything they had seen did not correspond to their ideas of suburban happiness, but the desire to breathe ozone away from the metropolis was so irresistible that after weighing all the pros and cons, the couple unanimously came to one optimal solution, in their opinion. No wonder — the wrong choice always seems more reasonable: a feasible budget for quarter acre of land with an old house in a small village, but with a well and a bathhouse, and a shop and a pharmacy nearby is an ideal option for a quiet and peaceful life of a pensioner. A woodshed with a supply of logs, rotten boards and poles, and a simple carpenter’s tool: an axe, a saw, a box with nails, a blunt scythe and sawhorses, has been preserved on a plot fenced with a dilapidated fence. But the main quarter acre of land value is a five — wall pre — war building, chopped from thick, with deep cracks, logs (as the former hostess assured — from mahogany), six by six meters, with a partition inside. According to the Kalinkins, the house has passed the test of time and met the classical canons, unlike neighboring buildings made of timber or concrete blocks. The interior was divided into a room and a kitchen of equal size, and a wood-burning stove with a stove was built into the partition and formed a single unit with it. The roof made of roofing material from antiquity and the pranks of the wind led a little sideways, the usual porch was missing from the outside, a five-step staircase replacing it was placed behind the front door and led into the vestibule with a wide window. In the hall and in the attic there was a suspicious smell of all sorts of junk, honestly warning about future problems and even evoking thoughts of terrible secrets and ancestors who had left this world.

When they rolled up their sleeves, the most urgent things were heat and water. After the sinking of the aspen, Pyotr Mikhailovich brought the stove back to life, and later they cleaned the well together — there is no way to manage it alone. Work on the ground also took a lot of effort. But in the evening, tired and tanned new settlers, sitting on the lawn at a small wooden table, could enjoy the croaking of crows and admire how the tired June luminary falls behind the tops of fir trees from the nearby forest.

Finally the owner got to the pantry. Pyotr Mikhailovich was not at all surprised when, among all the useless goods — leaky dishes, rusty buckets, torn sweatshirts and worn shoes — he found something strange: a metal barrel with four supports, a little more than a meter high. The barrel was sitting in ambush at the far corner and waiting for the victim. Pyotr Mikhailovich tried to move it from its place, but unsuccessfully — the design turned out to be very weighty. The grandfather called the grandmother, and the two of them, with difficulty, rolling on the floor, pulled this “turnip” closer to the window, into the light of God, and left it there. For a long time that evening, the puzzled Pyotr Mikhailovich could not sleep, an inquisitive mind put forward one assumption after another:

— What kind of piece of iron? It doesn’t look like a stove, it’s too heavy for a moonshine machine, no less than a pood. Maybe a the witch’s barrel?

In favor of the latter version, there was a broken broom and a battered piece of red silk suspiciously resembling a female headdress, with a strongly faded yellow inscription: “Excellent student of the socialist competition.” At the thought of all sorts of devilry, Pyotr Mikhailovich stirred uneasily on the mattress and accidentally woke up Galina Sergeevna snoring in her sleep.

— Eh? What? What don’t I have? — she mumbled sleepily, but her husband calmed her down:

— Sleep, sleep — you have everything!

— It would be necessary to dig two more beds at the fence, and plant onions with garlic, — Galina Sergeevna changed the record on the machine, and again fell asleep.

Curiosity turned out to be the last link in the chain of causes of future shocks. Pyotr Mikhailovich would have left this scrap metal alone, if he hadn’t woken up famously, and he wouldn’t have known grief. However, he stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have, and the next morning, like a bayonet, he was already standing next to the mysterious object. The design turned out to be girded either with hoops, or with stiffeners. Pyotr Mikhailovich strained, even slightly, sorry, farted in his pants from the strain. There is no doubt: fate has already sounded the alarm and buzzed him for the last time: come to your senses, old man! — however, he did not listen, lifted the barrel and set it vertically on the supports.

— Yes, twenty kilograms, barely, — after catching his breath, he confirmed his night assumptions. The find had to be wiped off with dust and dirt rags. Upon careful inspection, closer to the short legs, a hinged door the size of a good tablet was found. The door was locked with an internal lock, and the researcher had to tinker a lot before opening it with a key from the motorist’s kit. Opening the door with a creak, to his surprise he saw inside a flat area with a socket for batteries — for standard batteries, six pieces. There were none at hand, so he had to visit a local store after breakfast.

In a small rural supermarket, the assortment turned out to be surprisingly rich: they sold everything except anti-aircraft complexes and marijuana. A young saleswoman offered several brands of batteries, and Pyotr Mikhailovich chose “Duracel” — once seen on TV advertising about hares-rabbits still worked. And was it worth saving fifty rubles in this mysterious case? After thinking a little, at the same time he took a brick of local baked bread, a bottle of Stolichnaya and pickled cucumbers: he need to arrange a festive dinner with Galya in the evening in nature, they deserved it…

Returning to the house, Kalinkin shoved a bag of provisions to his wife, and he ran to the barrel — that’s what she clung to, damn it! Impatiently, he opened the package, installed the batteries in the contacts. And… nothing happened. The device remained dead, apparently, it’s not about the batteries. And Pyotr Mikhailovich hoped so, although it is not clear to himself why, and mentally scolded himself for naivety:

— He lived to gray hair, but his mind is like a child’s…

In the evening, the couple, being wary of Windows, played cards. After three glasses of vodka, Pyotr Mikhailovich’s skill definitely increased, but the buttle went only to the second level: the stubborn thought of a mysterious find, nesting somewhere in the depths of his brain, interfered. After being fooled a couple of times, he silently threw down the cards and left the room. It was she, this thought, who brought him back to the hall. Approaching the iron barrel, he angrily slammed the door. The door suddenly clicked and closed with an internal lock. After a few seconds, a strange vibrating sound appeared from somewhere, from which the heart of the pre-pensioner lost its rhythm, began to pound unusually loudly, and the ears suddenly began to lay, as in an airplane when landing. To the astonishment of the astonished Mikhailovich, the old iron barrel with legs began to lose shape, shrank and gradually melted into the air, and instead, as if out of nowhere, a small ball formed. The balloon filled with gas, grew before our eyes, and then turned by itself into a kind of simulator: a comfortable, large chair with a hood and a screen on a wide stand resting on a square base. When the simulator took its final shape, the strange sound faded away, and the inexplicable anxiety in Kalinkin’s soul disappeared. The string of transformations had no reasonable interpretation and seemed incredible, almost miraculous. Here he would cross himself just in case, but since childhood Petya has not been used to bow and beat his forehead, and he did not see any sense in abruptly reforging and chameleon: the inside will come out anyway, you can see by the muzzle. He just spread his hands in bewilderment, calling either the pure or the unclean to witness, then froze and stood there for five minutes, slightly opening his mouth, staring at the inflatable miracle of orange rubber.

— Made of rubber? — Pyotr Mikhailovich finally dared to touch the chair with a slightly trembling hand. The chair turned out to be cold to the touch, something like leather or alcantara — Kalinkin didn’t really understand this, but definitely not rubber. Carefully continuing his research, he touched the hood — plastic, the screen looks like a computer monitor, and under the screen, on the basis of the design, a red button sticks out. The button attracted the eye and tempted: push me… It’s not difficult for a child to guess: just push on it, and this kind of painful-tooth-crushing unit will work. The association with dentistry involuntarily cooled the experimenter’s ardor, but not for long.

— Maybe I should call Galya to consult? — the familiar thought of a henpecked man flashed, but for the first time in many years of family life, the subconscious insidiously dictated independence, pushing into the abyss of the unknown, very dangerous. Meanwhile, Galina Sergeevna was rattling dishes in the kitchen, and the usual domestic cacophony calmed her husband and gave him determination.

— In the end, am I a man or not? — he grumbled angrily to himself, mentally imagining himself as a hero next to Ilya Muromets in the picture on the left, and quickly drowned the button. The unit came to life, two rectangles with the words “English” and “Russian” appeared on the lit screen (it was strange that there was no “Galina Sergeevna” option). How inopportunely a thick dictionary was lying around somewhere in a city apartment, but who could have guessed that it would be useful in agriculture? He had to press the Russian icon with my index finger, as in an ATM, and then there were signs with the command:

— “Sit in the chair.” — Well, I sat down.

— “Put on the hood.” — Put it on.

— “Choose time” and two rectangles — “Past” and “Future”.

A sensitive sense of smell and everyday experience suggested: it smells like kerosene. A couple of years ago, Kalinkin found a curious scientific publication in a free newspaper, which they put in mailboxes. Of course, not everyone can handle an article about the hypothetical ability to travel in the universe using space-time tunnels in the form of wormholes. The persistent mind of Pyotr Mikhailovich was able to master it from the second time, but the idea seemed like an incomprehensible invention: is an instantaneous leap in time possible? And here, in the hall, this theory can be confirmed and become a reality! If what was happening wasn’t a game or a waking dream, he was on the verge of a fantastic opportunity. However, Pyotr Mikhailovich quickly realized: after taking the first step, it will not work to change the process, you can lose everything — Galya, the house, the usual and calm way of life, and, perhaps, life itself. The device hardly gives guarantees and insurance. On the other hand, the situation is so unique that, without a doubt, he, Pyotr Kalinkin, is a lucky man chosen by fate, a mole in the tunnel of Time! The unknown was so fascinating and attracted that it outweighed all fears and awakened in him a sense of courage. However, how valuable in his eyes are the promised paradise life on a pension of twenty thousand rubles, and bliss on quarter acre of land? Challenge accepted! The seductress sirens have already started their insidious hypnotic songs:

“Become zero, become zero and everything will be very good,” sounded in his ears, and he decided, as any adventurer would have decided in his place.

— But which rectangle should I click on? — Kalinkin scratched his head in indecision. — There have been a lot of interesting events in the past, from the Early Paleozoic to… however, what is the minimum step back? Is it possible last night? And an hour, a minute ago? If you think big, historically, then I would like to talk to Aristotle or, by the way, even with the cunning Gioconda…

From the suddenly opened prospects, ordinary logic got stuck, fantasies overshadowed common sense. Pyotr Mikhailovich forced himself to calm down, and after a short hesitation decided to apply the method of scientific poke, leaving the choice to his Majesty chance. Really, why break your head? He made a wish, crouching down to the window, and began to observe: if a bird flies from right to left, then it is necessary to fly into the past, and if the vector goes opposite, it means into the future. Five minutes passed, and the birds, as luck would have it, seemed to have hidden somewhere, disrupting the experiment. The impatient observer was already shifting from one foot to the other, unflatteringly describing the whole feathered world to himself, when suddenly some dead sparrow fluttered at the left edge of the frame, then sat down on it, unaware of its historical mission. Seeing the old man’s terrible, unshaven face behind the glass, the chick was stunned with fear, soiled the window, asshole, well, fluttered to the right and pointing to the Future!

— Undoubtedly: very smart people came up with this device, — Kalinkin came to the conclusion when two more signs appeared on the screen — “Time” and “Place”, — everything is concrete, fine tuning! Maybe it’s a virtual reality device, like five D? Then why in such a disguised form? Most likely, it was hidden by aliens from outer space, from another dimension! Those who are on flying saucers, the Americans showed them on video!

On the screen in red — “Attention!” — lit up a memo-instructions for reverse movement for a time traveler:

— “In order to avoid a dangerous situation! The return is activated at any moment of the journey by the command “I want to go back”.

The choice of a place with a poor imagination is obvious: a favorite city on the Neva river, Butlerova street, a native apartment with a balcony on the third floor… The time is at random, in about five years, 2026, June. It was only necessary to answer the questions, as space and time moved apart, absorbing Kalinkin along with the mysterious apparatus.

Ten minutes later, Galina Sergeevna called her husband, then went to look for him in the house, walked around the whole plot, but, to her surprise, she did not find him anywhere. The iron barrel lying on the veranda was also missing.

CHAPTER 2. LEAP INTO THE UNKNOWN

It didn’t seem like a long jump into the future to Kalinkin. Consciousness turned off, as with anesthesia, and it was not possible to feel anything during this movement through the years. Pyotr Mikhailovich opened his eyes and found himself in a painfully familiar six — meter kitchen, clean dishes on the table, flowers on the windowsill, everything neatly tidied up. Cautiously, still not fully believing in what was happening, I walked around the apartment — there is no hostess at home, the situation in the rooms does not seem to have changed, everything is as it was five years ago: Sony TV, photos hang on the walls, including his portrait, books shine with spines in the closet, on the sofa — the usual pillows. I sneaked into the pantry, put my hand under an old blanket — a stash of five hundred rubles on the spot, and his heart was relieved.

He turned on the TV for interest, and there — he don’t understand: either a cartoon, or a press conference:

— Attention, attention, Ivan the Fool at the microphone. Today we will find out how many percent of the remaining people as a result of optimization…

Kalinkin was not interested in fairy tales, and he de-energized the storehouse of news.

— And where is Galina? So June is the same month, she is obviously at the village, planting a vegetable garden, — Pyotr Mikhailovich realized. — Maybe I’m there too?

This metaphysical question took him by surprise: what happened to me in 2026? An amazing discovery was waiting for Pyotr Mikhailovich in the corridor by the mirror: where is my gray beard? A strange face of a man of about forty-five looked at him from the looking glass…

— Wow… — the shocked traveler could only squeeze out and almost cracked his head on the open closet door, and when the ability to think returned, he realized:

— If there is my reflection in the mirror, then the age and appearance change when jumping, a fact! But I wasn’t warned about this monster on four legs…

A clock ticked on the shelf, busily counting down the seconds of the new time.

— Honest mother, what should I do? Kalinkin burst out in despair, but there was no one to hear his words in the deserted apartment. However, there was still hope: upon returning back, everything would return to normal. And how to check: isn’t everything happening an illusion? Slowly going out on the stairs, he called the neighbor’s apartment, introduced himself as a relative of Galina — they say, he did not find her at home. The neighbor opened the door, did not recognize him, but said the obvious about his wife: at the village. But then the following question arose reasonably, and Pyotr Mikhailovich asked it with difficulty — his throat was so tight with excitement:

— And where is her husband?

— Galina Sergeevna shared with me, shared, — the neighbor lowered her voice conspiratorially and stared at me, as if she remembered a horror movie. — Her husband disappeared at the village about five years ago, she was wanted, but they didn’t find him anywhere. And why are you interested? — she asked suspiciously, as if realizing that she had given away a great secret to a stranger.

— Yes, I am aware that he have disappeared, maybe some new information has appeared, — looking down, Pyotr Mikhailovich squeezed out with difficulty.

— New information — that electricity has risen in price again, and a tax on clean air has been introduced, — the neighbor abruptly cut off the conversation, startling herself, and slammed the door.

Having found out that five years later he, the former, was not in the house at the moment, Kalinkin reasoned sensibly: to meet himself in the future is pure fiction. A.P. Chekhov was right: it can’t be, because it can never be! The miracle machine transported Pyotr Mikhailovich to another time, but there was an updated image of him in the future, changed beyond recognition and not coinciding with the usual one. So, the neighbor communicated, one might say, with the personality of Kalinkin, but in a different bodily shell. Here’s proof of discovery number two: it’s impossible to recognize a time traveler…

Pyotr Mikhailovich returned to the apartment, sat down on a chair in the kitchen to think about the situation again:

— So… if I disappeared from that time, what should I do next? How can I prove at least to myself that I made a leap five years ahead?

The pernicious habit of pouring in a hundred and fifty grams of vodka to clear his brain, he resolutely left in the past: the experiment should be pure, unclouded alcohol, in the name of the interests of all mankind. However, there was no vodka at hand either: Kalinkin checked the refrigerator — just in case. Lofty motives have generated a solution ingenious in its simplicity: I will take some object with me from my apartment, and even this plastic elephant standing on the dresser — upon returning to reality, it will be a material proof of time travel.

— That’s right, and I’ll tear out today’s calendar sheet for memory: June 17, 2026, — Pyotr Mikhailovich decided, put the elephant in a plastic bag and went out into the yard for a walk — I wonder what has changed in the neighborhood?

On a beautiful summer day, Kalinkin walked alone along the sidewalk past old brick houses and narrow lawns with stunted grass. Neither oncoming nor cross — all disappeared somewhere, which seemed very strange.

— Are all extinct, or what?

Cars whizzed by, throwing out dirt and soot — the era of electric carts has not yet come, as once planned. He turned left onto the broad Avenue of Science — so it was written on a sign attached to the brick wall of the building.

— So, science exists in Russia! — Kalinkin noted to himself.

At one time, in connection with the liquidation of the Institute of Mechanical Engineering, it was fired, and after a short thought, Pyotr Mikhailovich went to the night watchmen: well, the old man should not go to taxi drivers, although if life forces…

— Interestingly, — philosophized Pyotr Mikhailovich, — in the twentieth century the country created institutes of physics, chemistry, mathematics, and in the twenty-first century institutions of all kinds of problems suddenly began to arise: problems of the economy, problems of globalization, problems of entrepreneurship. It turns out: institutes and scientists are not engaged in science, but in problems that people themselves have created… Is this the progress? What were you thinking about earlier?

Thinking in this way, Pyotr Mikhailovich slowly moved along the avenue to the Akademicheskaya metro station and curiously looked at the signs of beauty salons and bank boards with a rate of 52—53 rubles to the yuan, but in his seemingly smart head, nothing clicked, illuminated, puzzled — and where are the dollars, and where is the euro? The metro turned out to be in the old place and has been preserved in almost the same gray, dull form, with concrete walls, a pie-thick roof and glass doors, representing stability in the field of architecture. And here people were already scurrying, crowds of people, Russians of the future. Oncoming streams of passengers poured out of the ground lobby and rushed back down, disappearing underground. The faces of those walking in the crowd were hidden by masks, and on the heads of each there was a headdress with a white plaque and a black number. Mentally, Pyotr Mikhailovich picked up a suitable comparison: a gathering of beekeepers in a huge apiary! He even rejoiced at his quick wit, but not for long: someone’s male voice with a characteristic southern accent interrupted his thoughts:

— Citizen, what are you doing here?

Pyotr Mikhailovich turned around: in front of him stood two stocky beekeepers, dressed in strange clothes, like the uniform of security guards in a shopping center five years ago.

— I’m looking at the subway building. What’s the matter? — Kalinkin was genuinely amazed.

— Why without a mask and a security number? — pushed, the one who is older. Pyotr Mikhailovich, trying to resolve the situation without conflict, politely asked:

— I forgot at home. And who are you?

— We are a volunteer squad of the Guard of Russia, — he received a proud answer, — you have grossly violated (it sounded like vi have violated) the decree on a special temporary regime. Follow us.

— Where to?

— To the police!

Kalinkin felt funny and even curious — some kind of incident, but he did not resist and contradict. The trio tramped along Civil Avenue to the building of the police department, where, after completing a quest with a cheerful color music, they found themselves in the duty room — a place of rendering legal services. Vigilant amateurs, having fused Pyotr Mikhailovich to professionals, turned around and recovered for a new search for evaders and violators. The chief on duty with one big star on his shoulder straps, apparently a general, took the guest into a separate room, sat him down on a chair and ordered him to wait. Kalinkin looked around: a black door, blue worn linoleum on the floor and the same blue painted brick walls, a barred window, an unpleasant, stagnant smell… Pyotr Mikhailovich even mentally refrained from unpatriotic comparisons, but he felt extremely shitty.

A nasty premonition sucked him in the pit of his stomach, a painful feeling of guilt arose; as if by magic, the constitutional rights of a citizen instantly self-destructed, and the personality and dignity of a person turned into something virtual. Involuntarily shivering, as if the punishing sword of either the proletariat or the bourgeoisie hovered over him there, under the ceiling, he became frightened and quiet. Five minutes later, a man in civilian clothes entered, but this one was already without a mask, sat down at the table facing Kalinkin and began filling out a questionnaire: first name, last name, patronymic, year of birth, registration address — in general, everything is like under Tsar Peas. From time to time he glanced at the monitor screen and tapped the keyboard keys. When the overture was over, questions began to pour in:

— What is the date, month, year today? — Kalinkin answered unmistakably.

— Why without documents? Why without a mask and a number? — The man didn’t look up from the table.

— Sorry, I forgot at home.

— And what were you doing at the metro station?

— I stood and looked at the pavilion building.

— Why? — The man raised his head and stared unfriendly at the prisoner.

— How why? It’s just interesting to watch. And what, is it forbidden?

— It’s not forbidden, but normal people don’t just stand by the subway and don’t look ostensibly at the pavilion. Who did you have an appointment with and for what purpose?

— I was alone and didn’t plan any meeting. Just walking. Don’t you believe me? — Pyotr Mikhailovich was genuinely surprised.

— I could believe it if it weren’t for the oddities in your behavior. Hence the question: when was the last time you took drugs? During the inspection, a toy elephant was seized from you. Why did you take him with you? Is that an identification mark?

The prisoner suddenly felt dizzy from excitement, but he answered with dignity, proudly raising his chin:

— This is an ordinary toy, nothing more.

— But you are not a child to carry toys with you. Well, you must agree — it’s very strange! — The word “strange” in his mouth sounded like a terrible accusation, Kalinkin noted to himself.

— Who did you want to give it to? Isn’t this a bookmark container? — the investigator squinted. — Witty. However, the examination will soon show whether there are traces of powder…

— Did you break the elephant? — Pyotr Mikhailovich could not stand it. — Galina will kill me!

— Galina is your accomplice?

— My wife, she’s at the village now.

— What happens, citizen? So, without your wife’s permission, you seized common property from the apartment and wanted to transfer it to a third party without her knowledge? Listen: it is in your own interests to refute the suspicions that have arisen and to prove the absence of the sale and storage of prohibited substances. You are in the status of a suspect, the measure is up to five years! — The man clearly enjoyed intimidating the unfortunate detainee.

— I didn’t have any drugs and I don’t have any. You’re confusing me in vain, — Kalinkin became emboldened, but the investigator has heard these speeches twenty times a day for the past ten years with a break for a short vacation once a year for a couple of weeks.

— Pyotr Mikhailovich, — the man looked into the questionnaire and changed his tone to almost affectionate, — well, judge for yourself: what kind of person in his right mind would go to the metro station for no reason, without a purpose, and even with a package containing a plastic toy and a calendar sheet with today’s date? So this piece of paper is a conditional sign?

— It’s just a leaf from the calendar, and I didn’t break anything, — Kalinkin fumed.

— Firstly, you violated it: during a special period you appeared in a public place without a mask and a security number, and secondly, you are now in a place where people don’t just get there… We will check everything and wait for the results of the examination. I warn you about criminal liability for giving false testimony. Sign here and here and here.

Pyotr Mikhailovich nervously and illegibly signed each sheet at the bottom, leaving some kind of squiggle, and then asked:

— What are the voluntary squads of the National Guard?

— A-a-a, — the investigator grinned. — This is, so to speak, an initiative of active segments of the population in pursuance of the Decree on the further development of democracy during the Great Restoration of the Country…

The policeman’s face became alien and impenetrable again.

— And now follow the employee for fingerprinting, you will have to issue a detention for a couple of days until all the circumstances are clarified.

Seeing the mute question in the innocent eyes of the arrested man and after being silent for a while, the man sharply slammed his hand on the table and added softly, typing every word:

— Pyotr Mikhailovich Kalinkin, whom you introduced yourself to, disappeared about five years ago and is wanted. Your appearance does not match the description and photo of the wanted person involved.

When the metal door of the detention cell screeched shut behind Pyotr Mikhailovich, he decided not to abuse the hospitality of the authorities and say goodbye to such a sad future, using a saving phrase:

— I want to go back! — However, there was no reaction. He broke into a cold sweat. Have you really forgotten? — Ah! he remembered. — I want to go back!!!

Time stopped, and the body, along with the sinless soul of Pyotr Mikhailovich, disappeared from the bullpen of the police department without a trace. When the loss was discovered in the evening, the police were surprised a lot, but due to the specifics of the service, they did not hesitate for a long time — and it happens occasionally. They simply withdrew the protocol of interrogation and the act of detention, as if they were not in nature, and that’s the end of it: who needs this Kalinkin, and without him, life is full of other worries.

When Galina Sergeevna Kalinkina returned home from the hospital a couple of weeks later, she found the elephant missing from the chest of drawers. Not that there is any value, but it’s just amazing: she remembered that the figure was always there, in the morning she dusted it with a rag. The elephant himself could not go anywhere! This iron argument and a woman’s insight made her take a closer look at the apartment, and on you: for some reason, a calendar sheet was torn out, there is the sixteenth of June and the eighteenth is in place, but there is no seventeenth. Some kind of devilry… She did not call her friends, but went to consult a neighbor. And neighbor told her about the visit of a strange man: he pestered her with questions, pretended to be a friend. Maybe he is the thief who broke into the apartment? True, it was embarrassing: the things and jewelry dear to her heart were in place, but the fact of penetration alarmed her so much that Galina Sergeevna decided to go to the police tomorrow, without a shake-up, with a statement about the theft. Moreover, this is exactly how they recommend acting on TV.

A man in civilian clothes questioned her, clearly not interested in this small matter. But when Kalinkina gave the address and announced the missing elephant, something cleared up in the investigator’s head, he immediately perked up and clarified:

— Is the calendar sheet missing?

And he was not surprised when he heard an easily predictable answer:

— Gone, gone, for June 17, 2026…

The investigator asked Galina Sergeevna to wait, and he went to the head of the department with a short report about the loss of a toy in the form of an elephant, a calendar sheet and a muddy man who disappeared from custody a couple of weeks ago. The chief instructed to send an investigative team to the victim’s address, and he picked up the secure phone and called the curator, following the instructions: to inform whom about all extraordinary incidents. The fingerprints taken at the police department from allegedly Kalinkin predictably coincided with the traces in the apartment, and thus the fact of his penetration into the dwelling and theft was irrefutably proved. Two circumstances were alarming: although the description of the criminal given by the neighbor coincided with the description of the detainee, Galina Sergeevna herself did not recognize her husband in him in any way. And most importantly: where did the criminal go?

CHAPTER 3. RETURN

Pyotr Mikhailovich woke up sitting in an armchair. In front of him is a monitor screen with the date: June 17, 2021, Moscow time — 17 hours 43 minutes, at the bottom of the phrase:

— “The penetration into the future is over. Stand up and remove the hood. Turn off the device by pressing the red button!”

The button was pressed, the structure with the monitor and the chair began to deflate and disappear into the air, and instead an iron barrel on metal legs reappeared. Kalinkin stood beside the time machine and was silent, gathering his thoughts. Have arrived… And where, exactly? After looking around, the traveler discovered that he was in an unfamiliar place, in some kind of closed, poorly lit room, like a warehouse or utility room. Pushing open the unlocked door, he found himself in the trading floor of the store, where this morning (oh, a miracle!) he bought batteries. The saleswoman involuntarily shuddered from surprise when she saw a stranger coming out of the office, and with fright called the administrator. Pyotr Mikhailovich only managed to spread his hands as a sign of good intentions, show empty palms and take a look in the mirror on the wall...The administrator, an energetic middle-aged lady, jumped out of the next room, went for rapprochement and attacked a young man who had fallen from nowhere with a powerful body and tricky questions: from where? why? why?, subjected him to a light search and let him go in peace, gently pushing him out into the street. Kalinkin realized that he was back in a country village, not far from his own house. Well, if so, fate itself prompted: go to your wife and clarify the situation, which yesterday would have seemed complete nonsense and absurdity.

After leaving the store, Pyotr Mikhailovich stopped and carefully examined his clothes. He remember that he went to the Future in his usual outfit — a work jacket and jeans, but he defiled at Butlerov street and the police in a brown suit. Now, after returning, he found himself dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit and short boots, and on his head was a blue baseball cap. There was, of course, no answer to the question of how and why clothes were changed and in which intertemporal atelier he was changed. But this circumstance is not so mysterious compared to the stunning change in appearance, and the age has decreased again! During the flight to 2026, he rejuvenated by twenty years and remained unrecognized by a neighbor who knew him like a flake from his student days. Did the reverse jump reduce (or did give him a gift) two more decades — at least that’s how Kalinkin looked now, walking briskly along the narrow village road, and felt like he matched his years. Apparently, this is the bonus from the barrel for bold experiments.

Pyotr Mikhailovich, or rather Peter looked with interest at the picture of summer spreading out before him, saw it in a new way, as if for the first time. By evening, the heat of the day finally relented and receded, cirrus clouds appeared high in the sky, stretching into white rag strips, daring from time to time to cover His Majesty the Sun. Suddenly the wind died down, and the orchestra of grasshoppers with crickets performed a concerto in D minor for the traveler, splashing their melodies in the fading nature. Here, around the corner, is his house with a dilapidated picket fence, a gate and a narrow path leading to a familiar door.

Galina Sergeevna was sitting in the kitchen and drinking tea alone, thinking about where her husband could have gone — he had not been in the house or on the plot for an hour. Her husband’s mobile phone was lying next to her, so she could only wait — apparently, Pyotr Mikhailovich decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, to be alone with himself. A sudden noise from the courtyard alerted her, there was a knock on the door.

— Who’s there? — The woman asked in a trembling voice.

— Can I come in? — An unfamiliar deep voice asked.

— Come in! — Galina Sergeevna allowed, and despite the external calmness, her soul sank into her heels: Pyotr Mikhailovich would not knock…

There was a creak, heavy footsteps were heard on the stairs, and a young man of about twenty-five appeared on the threshold, wearing a blue overalls, short boots and a blue baseball cap with the inscription “Reebok”.

— Excuse me, mistress, — the guest began reassuringly, seeing the fright in the eyes of an elderly woman, — I’m going around the houses in the neighborhood, I suggest drilling wells. Do you have an old well on your site, as with drinking water?

— There is water, but my husband and I haven’t decided anything about the well yet, — and as if in justification, she added: — We haven’t been here long, we haven’t looked around properly yet…

Galina Sergeevna’s sudden fear did not let go yet, but she tried with all her might not to show it — some frightening implausibility emanated from the man. His visit from the point of view of common sense is also inexplicable and mysterious: it’s too late to go around the house, rather, it’s just an excuse. However, the guest was in no hurry to leave and closely followed the behavior of the hostess, and she intuitively, unmistakably felt that it was not the well at al