On this day, I no longer see the permanent «garage owners» in our walkway. Perhaps, they are discouraged by a fresh spot on asphalt. Not even one spot, but several: the client leaked through all the holes, both natural and additionally arranged by me. Only one person lonely draws circles at the scene: investigator. Judging by the fact that he is alone, I make the only correct conclusion: a comrade was thrown «under the tank». And this means, that the case has already been recognized as having no prospects – and the comrade simply «works for volume»: collects waste paper. And this already means, that I can calm down completely, and even before the investigator write off the file to the archive of my memory.
But this does not cancel thoughts on Chernyshevsky: «What to do?» Restrict local success or step on the slippery slope of the struggle for justice? Stepping on her, I should be aware, that I will have to work as a scout behind enemy lines: only aliens are around. And my next step may be the last. But «you cannot shoot all»! This audience grows like toadstools: it is not necessary to cultivate. Maybe you should not burden yourself with routine tasks, even more so with taking higher obligations? Wouldn’t it be better to limit oneself to work «according to the situation», when there will be no patience, no other way out, except for going out to the business and to the client? I’m not a «conscious fighter for the cause of the revolution»: I’m just a partial person…
I click the knife button. No, I’m not «at work» yet. I am just inspecting the weapon… And once again «no»: not crimes, but retaliation. And this is not a question of terminology. This is a fundamental difference. And I look around not to say goodbye to it. You have to be the last fool: this is not a knife, but a work of art, piece work. As they say in places «not so remote» (simply – far): «First grade!» And, if, really, not in my pocket, then he has a place – in the museum! And not in the museum of the history of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and in the Armory!
I got it on occasion, got even before me finally «got it». I brought it from the army, from the harsh places, that «at the very edge of the earth». By the way, that’s very convenient: look for the ends… on the edge! How did this happen? Elementary: if Shura Balaganov happened sit in the prison along with a source of information about millions of Koreiko, I happened to be in the hospital with one goner, neither the name nor the face of which I do not remember. And not «already», but «immediately, as soon as». As soon as I went out of the gate of the institution: «out of sight, out of mind». That’s very convenient also: how to remember something, that did not have time to remember? I myself always try to «sink into the soul as deeply»: mutual short memory is pledge of mutual longevity.