Alexey Vayamretyl is a samurai lying on clean water and his real Kamchat path.

"And again, as before,

dedicating to my unforgettable,

to my inspirer,

my own mother,

who put me on my feet

and raised on this Earth,

to her – Euphrosyne Ivanovna

and also my beloved

wife Natalia Vasilievna,

her such special female patience

and her tremulous love…"

Alexey Vayamretyl is a samurai lying on clean water and his real Kamchat path.

0.0 The Discmeiler.

"This book is a work of fiction, does not promote or encourage the use of drugs, alcohol and cigarettes. This book contains pictorial descriptions of illegal actions, but such descriptions are artistic, imaginative, and creative, and are not a call to commit prohibited acts. The author condemns the use of drugs, alcohol and cigarettes. The author in his arguments talks a lot about good and evil, about hatred and about the truth, the author talks about modern war and all modern wars going on around us today, and he tells us about eternal peace and eternity, when thea is gone and the memory of you lives on. Your thoughts and your actions on earth worry someone and worry someone again and again. The author is a pacifist, the author believes in God and the immeasurable power of our savior. And he is our God. He appears to each of us especially in difficult and critical moments, when there is only one moment between our life and our death, and even between our eternal non-existence, which none of us can ever capture. In his arguments, the author does not justify evil, murder and other evil deeds, but only tries to comprehend them and take a philosophical look at all the events taking place around him and disturbing not only him but also the interested reader, who may not even share the author's opinion about certain events."

1.0. STRONGLY BRISTLING AND EVIL KAMCHATKA ROSSAMAKHA.

1.0. STRONGLY BRISTLING AND EVIL K

The brown Kamchatka wolverine is a predatory and wild animal, and he is also an eternal loner here. This animal has a difficult fate, often feeding on carrion or whatever remains from the table of the rightful owner of the local Kamchatka brown bear. But with the arrival of frosts, when the local wolves or all the local bears hide in their spacious and warm dens, which have been equipped since the summer, the wolverine has the saddest, most difficult times here in Kamchatka in the snow of her complete loneliness. Even her fellow tribesmen, the other wolverines, were no help to her then. Her paws are very short. It is difficult for her to catch up with a fast-moving game here. And the same hare, and a fox, and a small, but such a tundra fragrant and delicious partridge with a seagull heavy in autumn, and how it is here in the tundra on the blinding snow even now in winter, and she still has to find more. The fox is so cunning. The hare is so fast, and it somehow confuses its tracks uncomplicatedly, but skillfully, that it is not possible to understand where it has jumped right now, literally before your eyes, striking a short tail in front of your sniffing nose. Oh, the white partridge, with its tempting black beak and three black feathers on its paws and the same noticeable feathers at its tail, is the one if it is threatened and immediately gets up easily on its wing and flies beautifully, fluttering its short wings, which fluff and snow at such moments in all sides, and then how to catch such a hungry wolverine here.

Well, here is the local black divine raven, sung in local legends, so never touch him by nature, because he sees everything far away, and sits on a lonely poplar tree or a century-old local larch, and attentively observes how everything is here on the Kamchatka land, how all animals and how all people live. they live to tell us about it later and tell us with their rather loud croaking, which in the frosty air can be heard if not for thousands, then certainly for hundreds of meters around. And, here he is, this three-hundred-year-old black raven once told us, told us about the local life of the real kamchadal, the true nyman Alexei Vayamretyl, and we tried to record his long story literally verbatim on our tape recorder, which often jams, and then we listened for a long time in a warm office and rewrote all his stories, and at first it turned out to be a small forty-page the essay, then it turned by itself into a two-hundred-page story, and then into a full-fledged four-hundred-page story, and later, when we listened so intently to his unhurried story with a crow's voice and this almost seven-page real novel was born, suddenly out of nowhere, as if by itself, it matured, which we want to share with our attentive and inquisitive reader who follows the work of Alexander Severodonetsk.

The local Kamchatka black is a mysterious and at the same time magical raven, he is also so sharp-sighted, and he does not need to rush anywhere in the long winter. There were a lot of fish this summer, thank God he saved up the fat a long time ago and now sit on the twigs, and calmly sort out your black feathers, but do not croak loudly at all the tundra branches of the inhabitants, notifying them that it is she who is such an evil wolverine coming your way and everyone is on guard in the local Olyutorskaya tundra. Then there is no way for the wolverine to approach the game, completely unnoticed. And then, far away, the seeing raven, the local collector of lakhtach fat, is grateful to the same nimble bunny, and the cunning fox, and even the lone polar wolf, who has strayed from the pack, who can easily fight himself and alone with the evil local lone wolverine. But it is clear that it is better when their pack of these wolves, when they bravely bare their sharp teeth, stand faithfully for each other and when their sharp teeth tear everything and everything in an instant, turning previously breathing and trembling with fear into lifeless scum, turning all that energy and that physical entropy of ours, which passed easily from one species to another along the complicated local northern food chain. For one local species at this time, it means death and their real death, and an instant catastrophic decrease in their entropy to literally zero, since the surrounding oxygen from the air is not able to help preserve its most vibrant life here and now, and for another temporarily successful species at this moment, in their endless food chain, it means complete the triumph of his physical superiority and his current conquering power, and also means survival even in such harsh northern conditions here, and also, an increase in his physical, invisible to us energy entropy, which in fact is our very life, and is our struggle, and is that stubborn overcoming of the endless Pacific Time here and the incredibly vast expanse of Kamchatka Space stretching for a thousand kilometers…

Then, no amount of sharp teeth of a wolverine will help her to preserve her thin, spinous skin. Yes, and wolverine fur is still highly appreciated by the local Kamchatka peoples. Yes, and it suits them for hats, and it is naturally suitable for decorating winter kitchens, and it protects their faces from the north wind in the cold and in a fierce blizzard, and even from frost in the spring, because it has such a long, long awn, no snowflakes will blow in your face then, no blizzard then you are not afraid when your cook or your beautiful malachai is trimmed with the skillful hands of your mammy, your mother, or even her grandmother with brown wolverine fur. It's been a long time since our Kamchatka wolverine has eaten here, and today she somehow got lucky. Walking along the bank of the Vetveivaya River, right at the confluence with the Vyvenka River, she accidentally found a white-sided magpie that had fallen in the snow. And, on her wolverine heart, there is such an unspeakable and indescribable joy, such warmth of a delicious future dinner. … And now her physical entropy instantly surged, telling her that she was still alive, that for another week or even two she could fill her spine-toned tummy by eating even those not-so-delicious feathers of hers, which, Wolverine had long known, would not digest, but still fill her empty stomach. and, they will create the impression of full saturation for a long time, as if she had eaten a good fat piece of meat of the northern Kamchatka deer, as she did then, in early spring at the end of April, when she managed to recapture a newly born kayu here near the Khailinsky reindeer herders. Yes, they did not even notice how she quickly and instantly dragged him out from behind the bushes, skillfully pinching his throat, which he did not even have time to make a sound or notify his mother. Oh, that baby wasn't kicking properly yet, because his newly born body was pierced by such a sharp pain in her teeth that he didn't even have time to bleat properly, he didn't have time to call his wary mother, who was ready to give herself to the evil wolverine in her teeth, if only her kai was alive, and there would be other females, they would have fed him and put him on his feet together.…

2.0.

Encovav

Igor

with

his

smyng

Denis.

At the same time, Igor Encovav was driving up the Vyvenka River with his seven-year-old son Dima Vayamretyl. The two of them and his father's family were also lucky on the hunt today. On one of the river hills, they saw a lone wild deer-they hunted it down for a long time, quietly on skis for a long time, their wide fur-lined seals were tracking it, and when they finally managed to get within range of a confident shot, Alexander Encovav quickly took down a large choir with one shot. Dmitry didn't even need to shoot with his childhood bow, which was stretched taut by his father. The father quickly cut the subcutaneous vein in the neck of a deer wounded by a bullet in the head, and while the heart was still beating slightly in its last death throes, he poured his warm, thick red blood into aluminum mugs for his son and himself, in order to satisfy their hunting passion here at the place of successful hunting and, naturally, to appease his friends immediately numerous hunting local Kamchatka gods of their own, having shed a little of his floating blood on the snow, as if appeasing all those omnipotent gods of theirs, which helped him to knock out this meaty choir so quickly and literally with one shot. My father was just as pleased. Now they have fresh meat for a couple of weeks, or even for a month, and his family will not starve all November, otherwise grandma Praskovya did not get up from the deer and bear skins spread in the canopy for two weeks and kept telling him – to her son and the only one who has been going to the upper people for a long time, if only she could eat a piece of deer liver, and think about its fat bones once more in this world, and then she is ready for those all their British local upper people, who, as she believed, had been waiting for her up there for a long time, because She was already eighty-two years old, and by local standards, her long life path had long since reached that incredibly high cliff from which we all once fell at once, plunging into the abyss of a completely different temporary, no longer earthly movement., whom we earthly people never see, and it is clear that we do not know anything about him.

And even we don't understand why some of us ascend to heaven and immediately fall into the fabulous paradise sung by many poets, but others are the same as us earthly people and they fall deep into an unknown abyss, into that unknown deep and absolutely dark underground abyss, which is called hell in human society and is presented to us as such. None of the local residents knew or saw this, but sincerely since childhood, when he realized himself as a thinking being, he believed the words of the still cheerful old men, and the infirm old women who often gradually shamanized, and he believed from mouth to mouth, legends and folk tales passed down the local tundra, written by no one knows who and when, who were born centuries earlier and once lived in human consciousness, no matter what language or dialect the local person himself spoke. His ideas about good and evil, his ideas about the otherworldly and about that special fabulous afterlife, where it is unknown, and who will divide our paths, one into a real paradise, and the other into a black abyss called hell… And it is clear to me that no one will ever know these diverse categories and, naturally, during their earthly life they will not feel that hope itself, that our very faith makes it easier and easier for us to deal with those earthly difficulties that await us everywhere: hunting, fishing, and just in in everyday life, and in our daily communication with our fellow tribesmen, who often do not understand you, do not know about your innermost thoughts and those hidden desires of yours that not everyone can realize during their lifetime. One is because of her incredible fleeting life, and the other is because of her natural laziness and complete indifference, or even her inability to take from her all the beauties of today that she is so rich in and is always ready to share with you. But often this tribal deafness, this tribal isolation of ours, does not always and not everywhere allow us to fully reveal and realize all our potential, which the Lord God himself, Jesus Christ himself, puts into us from our birth, both into me and into you.

3.0

Nine

famous

Japanese

samurai

biographical

information,

which

was

always

in

the

folder

of

Alexei

Vayamretyl.

Minamoto

Yoshitsune.

(1159-1189

years).

"Yoshitsune's achievements are great. There's no arguing with that." This is how the diaries of Kujo Kanezane begin, which he kept since 1185, an associate of Yoshitsune's brother named Yoritomo and, oddly enough, his implacable enemy. "With his generosity, generosity and justice, he should gain a great name in the future. Only there will he be able to be admired and recognized for centuries," Kanezane wrote. Yoshitsune's ritual suicide guaranteed him a place of honor, while Yoritomo's assurances of loyalty to his brother's memory forever remained a shameful stain. Minamoto Yoshitsune's father, Minamoto Yoshimoto, tried to challenge the Taira clan in 1159, but lost. He was killed a year later. Taira Kijomori spared his wife and children: Yoshimoto was exiled to Izu Province, and his son Yoshitsune was sent to a temple north of Kyoto. Yoshimoto and Yoshitsune met twenty years later, when Prince Mochihito called on the Minamoto clan to rebel against the Taira. In 1183, Yoshinaka, a member of the Minamoto clan, defeated the Taira at Kurikara Pass and marched to Kyoto. But, contrary to Yoshimoto's wishes, Yoshinaka tried to subjugate the Minamoto clan. Yoritomo sent Yoshitsune to liberate Kyoto from Yoshinaka's rule. In 1184, Yoshitsune, who had become a prominent military commander by this time, led his army, joined by his brother Noriyori and Kajiwara Kagetoki, to Kyoto. In response, Yoshinaka positioned his troops on the Uji and Seta bridges spanning the Uji River, but Yoshitsune's army, wedged between them, won. Yoshinaka tried to escape, but was trapped in an Awaza and committed suicide. Enlisting the support of the emperor, Yoritomo sent Yoshitsune and Noriyori to wage war on the Taira. There was a fort on the approach to the village of Ichi-no-tani. In the night attack, Yoshitsune took it by storm. Then he sent 7,000 men under the command of Doi Sanehir to the west of Iti-to-Tai, and he and the remaining 3,000 climbed a steep cliff overlooking the fort. While the Taira's attention was diverted to the troops of Doi and Noriyori, Yoshitsune descended from the cliff and entered the rear of the front. The Taira panicked and retreated to their ships anchored off the coast.

Immediately after the victory at Ichi no Tani, Yoshitsune returned to Kyoto and served as Yerimoto's deputy until 1185. It was at this time that the feud between Yoshitsune and Yerimoto became apparent. Yoshitsune went to finish off the Taira clan in Yashima, sailing there by ship and making the Taira believe that he had many more troops than he actually had. When the Taira came out of the fort to fight openly, Yoshitsune's men were able to set it on fire. Yoshitsune pursued the Taira, who rushed to flee, culminating in a grand naval battle. From the book: Lewis T., Ito T. Samurai: the way of the warrior (Translated from English – M.: Publishing house "Niola Press" 2008. pp.186-187.)

4.0.

Successful

deer

hunting

The father dragged the deer he had slaughtered with his small and still weak, but trying to help son Dima together, first through the snow to the steep left bank of the local Vyvenka River, where they were only waiting, whimpering from the cold, a team of five sled dogs tied to a coastal alder tree and their light, made only this spring by their father, a glittering wooden sled. white, competing with the brilliance of the snow, playing on snow and incredibly clear bluish ice. That birch-wooden sled, on which they left in the morning, so that they could hunt to their heart's content here in their vast hunting grounds, which belong to them by right of their local branch and Kamchatka birth. And their need made them leave the village so far away, because there was not even a piece of fresh meat at home, and the fish caught in winter did not give them the necessary calories that would cheer you up like that, although there was a barrel of bear salted bacon in the annex and on the high local one, where Dimka Mamychke liked to climb. the pink salmon was still filled with that autumn, maybe just a little thinned in the fresh local river water, which was clearly more likely to feed these dogs than their considerable ones, like all Koryaks and the Nyman family. Where grandfather and grandmother intertwined, and their children, and now, after the birth of Dimka, the children's children, having already become their beloved grandchildren. He was the only one, while his own son Dimka hunted more than once with his proud father, and although he was small in age, he was also tall, but he was somehow muscular and stocky, like all the local people, the Nyman Koryaks, and even rickety, and with the abundance of redberries here, his legs made a wheel. He looks so funny and often so attractive. But long ago, from the very first steps here, he was accustomed to hard work, according to his young age and his strength, and also without being forced or, in a special way, by his father or grandfather, including and the mentee was accustomed to the hardships of the local tundra life, easily enduring all the hardships here, not considering them something special or unusual for him and their kind. Dimka perceived the surrounding world of Branveyama, to the best of his age, as he saw it, as it appeared to him every day and every morning. And, at the same time, in its morning beauty, illuminated by the Sun breaking through from behind a ridge of hills, and also in that special night fear that comes to you from somewhere inside, when a powerful wild beast easily hiding behind bushes can instantly turn your developing earthly life into nothing, and then not a single alder leaf Not a single dewdrop will fall from the morning grass in honor of your memory. Not a single lonely wanderer who came here, and the same geologist, will remember that maybe you were once on this poplar Land. And maybe you grew up, suffered and was sick here, even as you worried for your grandmother, and for your grandfather, and also for your mother, and for your beloved father. Yes, and because he was so young, he wasn't that religious yet, and he didn't understand why these commemorations, why remember everything that might have been here so long ago, when you weren't there yet. A long time ago! His little soul, hidden somewhere and hidden in his little body, was just maturing and growing stronger. And he was getting older, and today he was happy with his obedient dogs, their brisk running. And he was also happy this morning when he was walking a deer and rejoicing at its last visible convulsions, anticipating the taste of slightly salty and some kind of special viscous red blood, which charged you with something special and energetic, making you more confident and making you even bolder and significantly more resilient. Yes, and probably more mature at the same time, because at such moments you acquired this vital hunting experience, a truly hunting experience, which was important and necessary in these parts., which is gradually absorbed like this, even without special moral teachings or explanations of the very essence of earthly phenomena.

Yes, and Dimka's thinking was also special, one might say not verbal, but some kind of figurative, one might even say artistic, in the local way. If he wanted to remember something, he had to tie everything to these free Topolev places, tie it to this season of the year and even to the time of day, and a slow-motion picture of all the events that he witnessed then loomed before him. But, it was still difficult for him to tell others about what he saw, since he still did not know all the names of the local branch places, did not know many compound words, just like his father and mother were not verbose, just like him, only grandmother Praskovya was restless and all the songs she sings her own, whether she is busy making skins or sewing another, probably the hundredth such elegant festive malakhai, threading nylon thread into a thin needle for a long time. And then he listened to her long, maybe slightly mournful singing, propping his chin on his hand, sprawled out on the thick bear skins and the old choir in several rows, and he was interested in the shimmers of her angelic native voice, merging with the rustle of the south wind, and he looked at her deep wrinkles that furrowed her tired but beautiful face, it seemed to him that there were long, uncounted splits that dotted all the outskirts of Topolevka and the mighty Vyvenka River itself, which ran somewhere far away and he did not yet know that place., where did she rush her turbid brown waters in the spring, and in the summer such blue-clear nilgykyn washed them? Yes, and he and his father did not consider their existence here to be any special hardships, since fish were caught on the shore literally all summer, and the first berry ripened quite early, starting with yellow and incredibly fragrant cloudberries, red and slightly sour mountain ash, and also bluish-blue literally melting into the blueberries in his mouth, incredibly black, quenching his thirst for shiksha, and along the shores of the fabulous fragrance, divinely truly royal princess berries, and also, along the local numerous marshes of sour and so useful cranberries and this slightly glaucous honeysuckle in autumn – There is such an abundance of real northern lemon, and even red, such priceless lingonberries along all the hills and under the cedar forests on the hills, not for a year, but even for two years, it can be harvested with a little effort from the whole family. And in early autumn, when the fish seemed to have moved away, and the river had not yet become ice, so that my father and I could go to olennoye Khailino and Beregovaya Vyvenka to explore the whole Kamchatka world and explore the vast local area for him. Yes, and the shiksha berry and the cedar cone all autumn, take as much as your heart desires, as long as that cunning cedar, and the lord of the umka tundra himself, the brown bear, did not get ahead of you, climbing on your abundant lands, according to your birth here. And, everything is here on their poplar tree nearby, literally at hand. Yes, and there was his mother Tatiana Vayamretyl, his grandmother Praskovya Encovav, and his beloved father Alexander Encovav, who gradually, without much insistence, and in no way, and in nothing, as if not forcing, but only showed a little, the boy's son gradually to his Over the years, he quietly taught the craft of a hunter-trapper, making him a breadwinner for his future children and a breadwinner for the entire extended family, so that he would know the local area and learn the habits of all animals perfectly by the age of local maturity, which his father still has to wait and wait., since my father himself fell in love literally at twenty-six. For this purpose, he made a bow out of stone birch, which is not uncommon here, and pulled a tight string out of long deer veins, and helped to make arrows and equipped them with sharp steel tips and skillfully adjusted the plumage from a seagull's feather so that its flight was steady and especially accurate.

It was not without difficulty that the two of them loaded the heavy carcass of a deer, literally one hundred and fifty kilograms, with large spreading horns of one and a half meters, onto their short sled, sat down on top of the soft carcass, and only shouted to their obedient dogs, who had long been waiting for their imperious command to move quickly and freely, as the pads of their paws We've been frozen in the melting ice for a long time. Their pets were just waiting for them, even in the morning and not fed, knowing that upon arrival home they would certainly feast on the fresh blood of this deer, and those crispy sweet bones for them, and the trimmings of the offal of a juicy deer for them. I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I – his father's command was reflected from the local mountains and hills, and the dogs pulled on the straps and made a strong leap forward. As the leader, the old piebald dog Gray instantly pulled on the leather traces made of seal skin, which easily absorbed the heavy load itself, strained, and the sled, with its wide snow-white runners, easily broke away from the slippery ice of the river, easily creaking its hard birch runners on the rather thin and transparent ice like glass. It was still quite early in autumn, and his father had to take all the necessary care at this time of year, constantly looking at the road so that the team would not get into the polynya, which was not frozen on the river, where there was a rapid and on the ridges, barely covered with a thin crust of ice, since not so severe frosts could not yet It's really hard to get to the bottom of this wayward river, the Vyvenka, and its capricious left tributary at this time of year, the Branches, as the water from the hills was squeezed out by strong pressure on the ice, freezing and creating polynyas even where you don't expect them., having more than one year of hunting experience here. It was not difficult for their dogs to do their usual work today. During the rather short summer here, they missed these fast sleds so much, and Dimka also held his three-month-old beloved puppy Archie in his arms, who became so attached to the baby that he literally relentlessly followed him everywhere and everywhere, and on the current hunt he also ran, tangling somewhere with his father's homemade skis.. And he regularly fed him with his own hands, and the puppy, in gratitude for such care, showed his admiration for his friendship with a red tongue after feeding every time, licking his unwashed palms and his whole rounded face, tanned over the long summer, like all northern peoples, tickling and transmitting his inner warmth to him. and showing true devotion and doglike loyalty here…

5.0.

And

the

soul

of

such

a

small

Denis

was

now

rejoicing

at

their

successful

hunting

with

his

father.

And as they raced across the glassy ice, little Dimon's soul was now rejoicing that he and his father had such a successful hunt today. …

6.0

At

pov

о

rot

on

a

tributary

of the Vetvayama

River.

When they reached the right turn into their unnamed tributary of the Branches, they had to turn right from a wide turnout, and my father, as always, gave the command to the dogs to turn. – Ush-ush-ush! Ush-ush-ush! Ush-ush-ush! – and his command merged with the soft noise that, like this command, came from the skids, easily sliding on the thin and glass-like transparent ice. And the obedient dogs, having easily listened to him, began, following the leader, to turn easily to the right, when suddenly an old wolverine growled at them from behind the bushes, bristling with her red fur, protecting her food, which she had just found, without letting go of the bone-frozen magpie, protecting her cozy place under bush and their dogs, now drawn not by the force of his father's loud commands, but only, obeying the ancient genetic hunting passion, tightened the leather traces and rushed immediately after the wolverine into the middle of the river., to catch a terrified red-haired animal running from them. The wolverine, not letting go of the frozen little white-sided magpie, jumped to the left in fear and ran with its short paws across the slippery ice to the opposite steep bank. The dogs, having stopped listening to their master, rushed after her again, raising their own special, unstoppable and uncontrollable dog noise. – Woof-Woof!!! – Woof-Woof!! – Woof-Woof!!! – and the only thing that stood out was the low sound of Gray's leader, who was the oldest and was considered the leader of their pack and understood all the commands the most. But now their innate hunting passion has turned off their hearing and their ability to obey the voice of Dimon's father. My father tried to slow them down and started looking for a hidden brake, took his blacksmith-sharpened foot out from under the deer's carcass and inserted it into the front support of the sled, but it slid easily without clinging to the ice, as there were no obvious obstacles in its path, and suddenly.... Meandering cracks began to appear on the transparent ice and the dogs began to squish on the water that immediately appeared, easily splashing water, the father, sensing the danger now threatening them, easily turned back, lifted his little son Dimka, along with the puppy, who still did not understand anything, by the collar of his warm kitchen and quickly dropped onto the ice, while he tried and held their deer and, I tried to hold the sled itself sliding on thin ice to protect it from the water pouring out from under the ice. The sled began to sink easily into the depths and become covered with rushing water.…

7.0.

Denis

's

sharp

and

painful

fall.

Falling, being so unexpectedly thrown by his father, Dimka hit the thin ice hard and his hands without gloves rested on the transparent ice, which instantly began to melt under his warm hands, since, holding the puppy, he was without his usual gloves made of deer camus, and the warm belly of his furry friend warmed up well. His hands… Having recovered from the blow, he now clearly saw the body of his own father Alexander floating under the transparent ice. Bubbles are coming out of his mouth, and his eyes are wide open. In those brief moments, he sees his father trying to lift the ice, as transparent as the glass itself in their house, with his own hands, in order to free himself from the swirling stream of water, and the indomitable natural rapid of water only carried him away to no one knows where. Probably going somewhere deep and clearly downstream, taking it somewhere to the shoreline.… The dogs turned to the left, and the flooded sled now delayed and stopped their running, and they strained and strained their traces, and there was nothing they could do with the sled loaded with deer and the rapid constant movement of the water stream. They were sliding their paws, trying to continue their run in the excitement of chasing the wildest wolverine. Dimka saw that now their dogs were rooted to the spot and no longer knew what to do, since the wolverine and his magpie had already disappeared into the bushes of the coastal willow without throwing their valuable prey out of their teeth, and the dogs now had no real strength to try to pull the half-submerged sled out of the fast, swirling water. they have water. And, before Deniska's eyes, there was also their brown deer falling off the sled. He clearly saw how he turned over into the water in slow motion, how his horns clung to the ice and how a fast stream of water tried to drag him away, how the horns clung to the edges of the ice and the seething water continued to swirl around his head and seemed to boil at that moment. Her unstoppable whirlpool did not decrease at all now, bursting out like a pipe from under the ice and flooding everything around their sled and approaching the place where Dimka sprawled from the impact on the ice. Tom had to hurry so as not to get his winter shoes wet, because even though he was still small, both his grandfather and his father had repeatedly punished him that dry feet were the most important thing in the tundra in winter, then neither Koryak, nor Chukchi, nor the real Nyman was at all afraid of frost. And little Dimka runs down the ice and continues to stare at his father in fascination, and loudly asks him not to leave him now, and here after such a successful hunt. "Father! Father!!! Father!!! – he is the only one who hears his pleas, addressed to no one knows to whom now, since his father probably did not hear anything from that watery or icy captivity. And, next to him, only his dogs heard his unrequited call, either to his father himself, or to the local river and its seething abyss, in the power of which is how they ended up together, thanks to the fault of the local wolverine. And, the echo from the nearby mountains picks up his agitated childish cry, not comforted by anyone. "Father!.. – Father!....-Father!......... – Father…!............ From!...... Oh!........... And at the moment, as the echo itself quickly recedes somewhere, hiding, probably, in the numerous local decays, then comes the silent local dead silence, only the dogs can be heard whining guiltily, since their paws are now in that icy water that is bubbling, since they also found themselves in the water stream and, they can't get out of there on their own without the help of their master… and they didn't even understand where their master was now, because they focused all their hunting passion on the fleeing wolverine. But they didn't know what was really going on back there, and they also didn't understand why they were in the water themselves, probably because of their special canine nature and their local Kamchatka purpose. And his little son, he just sees how hard it is for his father there, how difficult it is for him to get up from under the ice, and he, in his youth, still does not understand that his father no longer has the strength or the real physical ability to lift this continuous river with his hands, weakening without oxygen by the minute. coast to coast, a heavy block of ice to escape from this now deadly stormy torrent of water, and how long will he still be there under this transparent ice glass fighting for his life, what will he and his father think about in these last moments, also, seeing his only son standing alone on the ice, and even the son does not know how long he will have enough of those vital forces, easily leaving his body. Dimka couldn't have known anything about it, either from his current childhood age or from the little life experience he had at the moment. And, again, in his ears only slightly, the muffled echo from the hills, in his ears his own anguished cry: "Father!!!! "Father!.. – Father!....-Father!......... – Father…!............ From!...... Oh!........... And then, that low-pitched, apologetic whine, undoubtedly also like the guilty dogs' paws, which were in the water gurgling like spring, and they began to tremble violently from the cold, trying to warm themselves with this kind of tremor from the inside.... And now, in Dimka's body, there is only fear of the local rural loneliness and the local snowy obscurity.… He was all alone here on this slippery ice, as transparent as glass itself… – Was he thinking about anything earthly and meaningful for himself at those moments? It's hard to tell us. – What should I do? What should he do now? He did not know and did not understand … because until now, such a tragic moment, everything was always decided for him by his beloved father or his always kind mother Tatiana Vayamretyl. All he had to do was obediently follow them like a shadow, accompany them, sometimes help them, often support them, and also carry firewood, and fulfill the quiet requests of the half-blind grandmother, which he always fulfilled with joy, since she always had something really tasty or even sweet in her pocket carefully. she kept it for her only and so beloved grandson. It is not difficult for him to bring her into the summer yurt branches of a reed from the shore or water from a stream. He also could and helped them load the sleds, and now he's here all by himself.… He wasn't afraid of anything yet. He hadn't realized anything yet, in his eagerness to save and fight for his local village and this branch of his life. He hadn't realized yet that he was the only one left here. It was just that he was all alone here and now. It was just that he had no one to ask now where to go and what to actually do first.

And, as always, when he didn't understand something, he wept bitterly like a child, pouring his tears onto his cheeks, which were flushed with fright, and droplets slid down them, rolled onto his kitchen, and he swallowed them and felt how salty they were. He still did not know how much of this bitter salt there would be in his future life, but now, having felt their true salinity given to him by nature, he returned to reality from oblivion or oblivion, and at that moment he became not really a seven-year-old kid, but a real adult… And the whining of the dogs intensified, and he understood First of all, he needs to help out his dog friends, otherwise he, his mother and grandmother will not survive this winter without them. But he had not yet figured out how to rescue his friends from the stormy stream, since the water on the ice was ankle-deep, and he did not dare to wet his shoes.… While he was crying, a very black, large, broad-chested local raven flew in, as if from nowhere, and fluttering over him and cawing in the air, he sat down on a bush next to Dimka… And he, attracted by his loud Kar-r-r!!!, saw an old black raven, who first jumped up on his powerful two paws and flew around him, peering into his eyes, so that he even heard the rustle of his feathers on the frosty air and, as if inviting the baby to a long river journey. The raven jumped and jumped, trying to attract his gaze to himself, until Dimka got up from his knees and went to the raven, as to his now unknown guide, and maybe even a true friend and savior. This raven was special in the local Kamchatka Vyven tundra. He was somehow particularly fabulous, wise, and even such a sophisticated life experience, as he had seen more than one generation of local Nymils, and Koryaks, and deer Chukchi, who were born here and often died here on the river against their will, walking their own short and some rather long path only to them. God has set the earth's distance alone, which is probably measured out in advance for us somewhere in heaven itself, or maybe we ourselves participate in its extension, if God again does not object and deigns to let us breathe some more, take another look., still admire the surrounding local expanses. For many, this life distance literally ended with their birth right in the local yurt flooded with dry cedar, since there had been no vaccinations against all infectious diseases or proper medical care yet, and the great Kamchatka Nature itself did everything to ensure that the weakest, the genetically defective and not viable individual, let and the human race quickly left this tundra path of theirs, without interfering with the life and development of the fittest, the development of the stronger and more understandable, and skillful. And if anyone stayed, and they didn't know why, and survived in such harsh conditions here, then his path was often so incredibly long, so long, that he himself often had to ask for Guidance, and the local Raven, the divine Nimylan Kutha, to help him move to all their upper people. in order not to experience all the earthly hardships and backbreaking labors in old age, which have long been beyond our strength and beyond our physical capabilities. And it is significant that not always, he is that local black Raven, and their divine black Kuth, and listened to such unusual requests from their local senile old people, who are not able to see their very long, very long path, giving the opportunity to the very local Kamchatka Time may still be a little bit stretched, a little-slow down a little, and then the local man lived happily for sixty, seventy, or even eighty years in complete harmony with the surrounding nature and, naturally, enjoying the taste of the heads of the local red fish in the spring., enjoying the first five-minute red caviar and that special first spring ear, which could only have been brewed with real red wine from nowhere and came from – the local spring's first frisky nerochka at the end of May, when, as a harbinger of the local spring itself and their great homming, she entered all the stormy Kamchatka rivers and even the streams to put aside their fabulous new life giving red caviar, and, as before, to give new life to their numerous generation of anadromous local red fish. He is so broad-chested, as if he has a particularly durable ancient shield of a warrior defender, a warrior warrior, the guardian of these fabulous branches of the Kamchatka mountains in front of his chest. His beak is so big and so black, and also incredibly sharp, but Dimka himself is not at all afraid now, as they were walking behind him, as if they were still talking to each other. Although the raven's voice was similar now, his croaking was similar to the hoarse cough of his own and beloved grandfather, which Dimka remembered for the rest of his life and would easily distinguish this cough from thousands of other voices of the same feeble old men. And he, this black raven of their Kutkh, jumping from branch to branch that grew along the shore, began to show the upset and distressed Dima the way to his house, as the ancient biblical prophet Peter led Slavic tribes against Mamai's cavalry, against Turks and Poles who wanted to feast on Slavic, ancestrally Russian lands.… He did not know exactly what force was leading Dima home along this path, but only an hour or more later he was already at his native hearth, partially dug into the surrounding earth for warmth, and lined with turf for warmth. And the black old raven, satisfied with the completed task, sat on the roof of their house and loudly called his mother through the chimney. – Kar-r-r! – yes, so loudly that she heard his loud "Kar-k-r!" in the house through the chimney of their stove. This cry of his "Kar-kar!" burst with such force into her ears, waiting for news, into her trembling consciousness, that she immediately suspected that something like this had happened to her little son or even to her beloved husband. Although, early in the morning, even before dawn, when she accompanied her husband and her son to hunt with their dogs, she did not have any special anxiety or even premonition for her or for their lives, since her husband was a fairly experienced hunter-trapper who knows ten or even twenty here in the area. miles of literally every tundra hummock, who knew literally every pebble frozen into the ground, who knew literally every hillock, who knew literally every sharp turn of the river and even every newly formed spring hall on it. Their local river friends, Umka bear fishermen, had long been sleeping on the grass they had saved from the summer in their warm dens, which had been set up in advance in the still warm summer. And, even the occasional pack of prowling wolves or a lone evil local wolverine for her husband Alexander was not something out of the ordinary here, where her husband was no less strong than the owner of these places himself – umka the bear, a seven-hundred-kilogram bully, in the autumn with difficulty, carrying himself on short legs. Her husband could bend any birch tree into an arc. Moreover, she had him armed with a TOZ-12 rifle, even though it was old, it was left of his own father, but still there was a duck in the house, and he came across a partridge, and the bunnies could not get away, not to mention the fresh venison, which was both salted and dried for a long time for the long winter.. Yes, here in winter a hunter, a fisherman, a goldfish with a hariton, and a partridge, and bunnies even without a gun on unmarked trails often got into loops.... And, she threw an unfinished flatbread on the table, forgot to remove the frying pan from the stove and opened wide the doors of the house, where the real local windy cold burst in to see if her husband had arrived and if they had brought hunting trophies with her son, which she thought about and what their omnipresent croaking was now notifying her. The old raven. Only Dimka's little son was standing in the courtyard, crying bitterly, sobbing and wiping his flushed nose with the sleeve of a worn red leather jacket.... "What happened?" Where is your father? – Son, where are our sleds and where are the dogs? – I asked, but somewhere deep inside she vaguely guessed that something serious had probably happened to her husband that day, since only her son had come and was still crying. Her son was silent now, unable to utter a word. He was crying bitterly. He didn't say anything, and now because of the fear he had experienced, from that vision that would be remembered for a lifetime, he couldn't say anything to her, and he just waved his frozen hands at random, pointing to the way back down to the river Vyvenka.... His mother shook him hard by the shoulders once more, looking into his face to reason with him to stop crying and answer her or see in his frightened eyes what really happened to him and his father and, most importantly, where. But it was all useless. She didn't hear any words from him crying now. Just some kind of throaty bubbling, and endless crying....

8.0.

And

the

old

Koryak

divine

raven

Kutkh

sees

everything

here

from

his

tall

ancient

poplar

tree

and

he

knows

everything

here.

The old divine local Koryak raven Kutkh from the roof once again, half greeted, half announced something of his own to his mother. – Kar-r-r-ut! "Kar-r-r-ut-on!" – Kar-r-r-u-that-well-l! And, Tatiana, in that long-drawn-out croak, she could clearly hear their long-drawn-out human: u-t-o-n-u-l… And now she realized that it wasn't for nothing, because the youngest Dimka came alone and without his beloved dogs, and without his father, and even says nothing. She needs to get ready right now, now she needs to call the neighbors for help and go help out herself and look for her beloved husband to help free him from a crease or something. Maybe he got into some river hole and broke his legs, or into a deep hole, or maybe into a wormwood, because the ice is still so thin in places....

9.0.

A

mother

saw

her

son

Denis

and

was

literally

stunned

with

fear.

She rushed to slow down her son, as she realized that it was useless and immediately ran to the neighboring yurts and called Ahytka Egor and Anik Peter, who immediately realized by her agitated voice and by the look of her crying son Dimka that something special had happened, something unusual, probably with his the father, since the son returned from hunting alone and without dogs. They quickly put their dogs, who had been ready to ride for a long time, into a hiking sled…, and as if they were waiting, they rushed into the road, and when they arrived at the bend of the Vyvenka River and that sharp turn in the Branches, they saw a sled almost frozen into the ice, loaded with a heavy deer carcass, the spreading horns of which were stuck in the ice and kept it afloat and they also saw the dogs , wet and whining from the cold, and it immediately became clear to them what had actually happened here just an hour or two ago… As the stream of water bubbled incessantly, bursting out from under the ice, spilling over the broken, like a large broken glass slab of ice, and again, this fast water was going somewhere by itself, making such a soothing noise of a soft and rather peaceful murmur now, against the background of the complete tundra silence and fabulous silence surrounding them, since there was no wind yet and everything in the local nature only sparkled under the rays of a bright autumn afternoon From the sun, everything was just coming to life, warming up a little from the local night frost. Peter Anika, how would you feel better about the situation and be in your autumn rubber boots? Quickly, he lifted the wide boots and tied them around his neck, fastened them to the harnesses around his neck with his leather strap hidden in his pocket, which he never parted with, and entered the stormy stream of water, pulled on the leather traces that had been soaked for a long time and easily cut them off with his short boy's sharp knife, and the husky sled dogs broke free in an instant and they began to lick their long-frozen paws, since they had all been covered in icicles of ice for a long time. Then the older men, together, and they managed to pull the heavy deer out of the water washing it, not without difficulty, shifted it onto their dry sled standing at a distance so as not to break off the edges of the thin ice, and the ice themselves tried to walk one by one holding onto a long stick, which the assistants held together standing by the shore, where the ice is thicker, and and not so fast. – Dim, what happened here? – the adult neighbors asked themselves easily, guessing now and, as it were, reconstructing recent events, what happened to the two of them here just an hour ago. They easily reconstructed a series of tragic events here, seeing the traces of the sled on the ice, seeing these half-frozen huskies, seeing a deer submerged in water, shot by his father. Now, out of fear, Dimka could not say anything to them and only showed his face and put his hands under the ice, showing that this fast water – nilgykyn washed the water carried his father's face down somewhere. And Dimka, with his hands down, walked along the shore, showing where he saw the face of his beloved father. The men took axes in their hands, and some long ago mounted a pole and went down the ice after him. They walked for quite a long time, scanning the banks to the right and left, and already, probably, at the sixth kilometer, at a sharp bend in the river near a loose mountain, they saw his father's body lying under the ice, as if in some kind of probably fabulous glass sarcophagus, behind this durable, icy transparent glass made of the purest ice. It was not without difficulty that they cut through the rather thick but transparent ice in this place and, groaning, took out the body of his beloved father Alexander, which had long since cooled in the water. Then they laid him first on the shore on the snow, covering the eyelids of his still wide-open eyes. Akhytka ran upstream and back for his sled, and immediately they loaded his father's body, all wet, into the sled. And on other sleds they took the deer he had killed to the village of Branches. Deniska walked beside him, holding his father's cold thumb and not taking it out of his icy hands, even though his hand had been shaking from the piercing cold for a long time. But, he wanted to feel his own parental body once more, which could no longer warm him in any way, as it was before, when his father always warmed his frozen hands with his hot breath both when fishing and hunting, and even hid them under his armpits when it was dry and warm in his kitchen, that the hands feel so comfortable, so special and thoroughbred. He also wanted his father to wake up right away, so that he could pat him on the back of the head and, as always, gently, as he knew how to do, also cheer him up now. …

10

.0.

And

today

, the

little

Kamchatka

village

of

Branches

was

all

agitated.

Today, the small Kamchatka village of Branches was all agitated, as the news from one house to another house was carried not only by the local black crows, but also by the loud barking of dogs, which in such cases is especially sonorous and it reverberates throughout their village, stretching along the steep right bank of the Vyvenka tributary. One dog: – Gavv!– Gavvv! Another dog picks it up like a wave: – Govv! Govvvv!, And the third one: – Ha-woof-woof!! And even the fourth one, and the immature puppy is only his filthy: – Yap, yap! But even though he is small, he is also in their common choir, he is also in their branching dog family, he is also needed in this village of dogs, their common loud cacophony, which, once it started in the morning, it does not end until the evening. And, no amount of strict masterly shouts will help anyone to stop this cacophony. Unless they unscheduled bring a piece of juicy yukola from their mother's place or put a pot with cooked food supplies for them in the evening. All the residents, young and old, had long since gone out onto the spacious long street that stretches along the riverbank and had already met a cavalcade of loaded sleds walking on the ice of a not very wide tributary of the Vyvenka of this little stream Veveyvayama. On the roof of the local lonely houses, no matter where a lot of black crows and crows flew from. And now everyone in the village of Branches realized that something very special had happened today, something so likely and tragic. The mothers prudently took out sharp short knives from their leather belt scabbards and, without any command, immediately began to carve up the deer that was almost still warm, warming their bloody hands right in the belly of the red carcass. And Dimka's mother, Tatiana, bent over her husband's wet body, and tears poured out of her now red and still young eyes, which had never known grief. She couldn't even wail and grieve anymore, because she had expressed everything earlier, said everything a long time ago, when she first saw that prophetic busty black Kutkha raven who brought his son Dimka home so early… The father's body was somehow straightened in a special way, his arms are now outstretched along his body, and his eyes were still half-open and, without blinking, they were looking somewhere up there into the sunny clear blue sky, probably still trying to see his only and beloved son Dimka there.… Only the little Dimka did not understand what he had to do, where to hide his such frozen short hands.… He also didn't know what to do now, whether it was okay to cry or whether it was better to bite his lower lip so hard, literally squeezing it until it bled, and stand next to his father, holding onto his cold finger and listening only to his mother's crying, and her pleas to give her the strength to bear it all, and still suffer, remaining on white Sveta is a widow, left alone with all the difficulties and adversities. And Dimka thought: – If only Mom didn't fulfill her threats and didn't go with her father to the upper people there, and who will he stay with now? And, he leaned against his mother, and stroked her through her black curly hair, and it suddenly seemed to her that these were the touches of her beloved husband, and she bowed her head, unable to cry anymore, but only listened to those gentle soothing and rhythmic, supporting her, as well as the beating of her anxious heart. stroking, which calmed her without words now, and she clearly realized that she had to live for this warm little lump, she had to live for her own son in order to raise the same loving and strong guy.

11

.0.

Literally

all

the

Nymans

and

their

tribesmen

gathered

in

their

house.

In their spacious wooden house made of timber, all the Branching tribesmen gathered, even from the yurts scattered along the coast and for ten or even thirty kilometers, almost from Vyvenka and from Khailino, where there were almost half the villages of their blood relatives. When the mothers came, they fussed around the hearth in the kitchen and prepared their usual memorial meal. And the men settled down on the floor in the next room, where they laid out their father's body, and laid out the games that had been in the house for a long time, and of course, the cards that were badly worn and greasy from their hands, and, talking among themselves, they played cards in a simple fake "fool", passing the deck from hand to hand. Now, as it were, their friend was playing with them… others were just sitting on the floor and puffing on their smoking pipes filled with cheap tobacco poured out of Prima cigarettes, looking at the players from under their foreheads, and carefully counting who won how much.…

12.

Local

mourning.

The next day, in the morning, the neighbors' wide and long sleds drove up, and my father's body was loaded onto them in a new one, sewn overnight by the mammies, which the hardworking mammies literally sewed that night from two deer skins, which had long been hung on driftwood standing vertically outside the house, collected last summer. They even managed to decorate it with their multicolored beads, putting special swirls into the alternating geometric pattern and its dynamic graphics, which only they knew, which symbolized the earthly life of man and the long way he traveled through the local winding and long paths. Dimka didn't even know that his father was only 26 years old. It was the 26 small beads folded in a circle in the center that symbolized the years his father had lived, and there were also seven squares that symbolized the seven bears he had shot here on the Branches, and there were many beads that reflected all those partridges and hares that he shot with a gun, and more often than not, he caught snares on his loops and skillfully placed on bushes. Then in the afternoon, as soon as the hands of the clock crossed those still incomprehensible 12 o'clock Dima, everyone gathered together and went to the local Shamanka, which was about five kilometers from their village, and there the peasants cut branches of gray alder and resinous cedar in the morning, and built a tall bonfire, several bunches of dry grass were placed below and more cedar shavings, so that the fire would instantly embrace his body, which had long been cold, as if protected from it by a new kitchen, beautiful bags, and a new decorated Malachai, which no longer warmed him at all. When his father was laid on planks on a campfire folded with skillful hands, Dima still did not understand what would happen next, since this was the first time he had attended such a local funeral ceremony. Men from four sides approached the fire pit and at first whitish smoky tongues seemed to envelop his father's body in such a beautiful red kitchen, and then from somewhere below, yellow flames, like his father's new kitchen, stretched from the ground, easily hiding from his son's confused gaze the whole body of his native and beloved My father. Because Dima's confusion came after realizing that the fire was so hot, the fire was so strong, that all the cells of his family, his only one, would burst into bubbles in an instant, like in summer on his right hand when boiling water came out of kettles and then evaporate, like the bubble on his hand when he inadvertently touched a hot frying pan last week. And now Dimka was not looking at the place where his father was lying, because now he was incredibly scared again, but he was looking somewhere into the far sky, where warm streams of air and those yellow flames were easily rising, as if marking and tracing an invisible path in the frosty air, along which his My father will have to slowly climb up there to all their top people. He looked to the side and there, in the distance, on a green branch of a cedar tree, the same old black busty raven was sitting and he saw how tears were rolling from his eyes and Dimka wanted to cry himself again, and he was crying tears no longer, afraid of nothing and not understanding whether he would be scolded by adults who were standing everything was silent, and only the mother was quietly grieving, and the grandmother was not taken here, because she was so weak, after her daughter's son's lifeless body was brought to their house. Dimka only remembered her words.: – How is it that you are my son, my Sashenka left earlier than I. Yes, I won't live long now, I see we will meet again there soon. Wait for me and forgive me…" were her words, summing up her journey on this Kamchatka land. Since she had been ready to connect with all the upper people for a long time, but she did not have a real nudity. And now that her husband is not around, and her youngest son has left her, why should she be old and live here in the Branches? It's better to be up there with all their people. It's better to be with my son to help and support him.… Oh, how she didn't want it to be like this, she's seventeen-two, and her son is only 26 years old, and she's alive, and here, and her son, just a moment, a few more minutes, and already high up there, with them, with those of their upper people… And Dimka is only I heard how his hands were being squeezed by the rough hand of Anik Igor's neighbor, and Vladimir Akhytka was supporting him on his right. And, in the midst of the local silence, only the cedar tree crackling in a special way, either from the frost that had previously squeezed it, or from the heat that tore its branches from inside, squeezing out the burning resin, clearly spoke to everyone about something he only understood, and about something so special, and about forever- endless. – Ear-di-! Tr-sh-! – Pro-sh-! Tr-sch-! – Forever! – Tr-sh-! And, now blazing in the wind, an unlikely hot bonfire, and that icy glass into which his father's face was frozen stood in little Dimka's memory for a long time, for a long time it did not allow him to sleep peacefully on warm reindeer skins at night, calling out from the fright that came to open his eyes again and look around, and only the caring and hard-working hands of his grandmother Lukerya and his mother Tatiana carefully covered him with the skin of a deer, which was slipping from the kicking of his legs, and with the thick and warm skin of a bear, shot by his father in the spring, so that he could man up and grow up faster in his dreams, because an experienced hunter was needed in their village of Branches, and each time he remembered his only one, his beloved father, in a special way, not yet understanding where he really went from that hot campfire, as both his mother and his mother took him there to their ritual cemetery. But there was nothing but ashes in that place. And Kuthu brought abundant gifts to the broad-chested raven from his first independent hunt and even from his daily table, so that on Saturday or another day he could run to where his father's path ended and where only the memory of his path somewhere up to heaven remained in his soul. And it was now that he realized that his father was somewhere high up there and watching him closely, leading his son along a new local path that could only be here on a branch, and it began somewhere inside his memory to always support him, and even encourage him to work daily, and military affairs…

13.0.

A

STUNNING

HUNCH.

On December 28, 2012, information spread through all Russian news channels, and the European SNN, Euro NEWS, that American singer and pop star Whitney Houston died in 2012 in a hotel in New York, not by herself, drowning in a bathroom, as previously announced by the American investigation, but that her death at the hotel was then attributed to the hand of the American or Uruguayan drug lords, to whom, according to reliable rumors, she owed more than one and a half million dollars. And listening to this news feed, Alexander Ugolev compared the word drugs and extracted it from his tenacious memory and remembered how, as recently as November 2011, Dima Vayamretyl himself had been asking for a long time and meticulously where his younger brother Alexei had actually disappeared, since they were fishing on Olyutorka only the three of them. Denis, Alexey and Gena Umyavilkhin. Alexander Ugolev and the local cops, and of course he asked his own people to talk to them "for a pillow", and paid for their emergency services, and compared the decision of the district Court in the summer of 2011, when Igor Primerov, the bailiff, was convicted of drugs and, in a flash, he remembered those urban and Elizovsky fishermen, who were the actual owners of that fishing trip, and also in their village they smoked almost openly, green grass, it seems, cannabis. Yes, and they were detained by the police at the same time when Alexey himself disappeared, i.e. in late September or early October… And, he also remembered how it was shown on TV in October of this year that in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, drug control arrested an unprecedented batch of almost one and a half tons in cans of hashish oil in Kamchatka, which was imported by sea from Primorye or even from Vladivostok itself, and of course it was, and it was intended for the next fishing season for fishermen. and fish processors of numerous coastal fishing enterprises of various economic forms, LLC, or JSC, or even sole proprietors. And now, the reasons for Alexey Vayamretyl's disappearance and even that consequence, everything seemed to settle down with him, like that complicated, difficult-to-solve puzzle, it naturally formed into one such rigid picture of their local Olyutorsky, their Kamchatka uncomplicated life… It formed in his head into that special puzzle, that is, into that not likely complex one. a life picture in which his simple and trusting soul, such a vulnerable soul as Alexei Vayamretyl's, was not given by his very nature to survive, it was not given to endure all such an insidious onslaught on her by all this swashbuckling of his young and carefree life.… Alexander Ugolev also recalled, as it were, those reservations, and those drunken conversations between his brother Dimka and his first friend Gennady Umyavilkhin after his vodka ball, that Alexey owed drug dealers almost 350 thousand rubles and that his probably "those" Tilichiki new, ruthless and young drug dealers put on their special fast counter, demanding from him an exorbitant amount of money for a young guy, or even interest on their lost sales money....

14.0.

The

purest

ice,

it

yawns

here

in

Koryak

nilgykyn

mymyl.

1983.

And at the same time, literally twenty kilometers south and closer to the district center to Tilichiki… October in the north of the Kamchatka Peninsula turned out to be quite unusual this year. Literally until the middle of the month, torrential rains continued for two weeks without stopping for a single day. One three-day cyclone would leave, another would replace it for the next three or five days, and Pacific water from nowhere, which came to the local land from the sky, flooded and soaked it so much, as if providence itself wanted, as we did in the bathhouse, to wash away all the dirt that had accumulated over the centuries from it and came to these virgin Kamchatka territories are scum. The rains flooded the Kamchatka land, so that the local Kamchatka land would heal anew, shine with a special local indescribable Kamchatka flavor, with its ecological diamond facet, which does not exist in any region of Russia.... And so, just before the November holidays, as always, twenty-degree frosts hit this northern region, and Vadim Terentyevich Goryainov and Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev, one of the heads. The department of propaganda and agitation, and another instructor of the Olyutorsky district committee of the party, who arrived in the district from far Kharkov literally in 1980, decided together on the next Saturday on the same day, November 4, 1983, to go fishing on a frisky chariton and see if the ice on the Avyavayam River really became. Vadim Goryainov, in the local Bogulianovka tract, had a cozy little house made and hidden in the cedar bush a long time ago, literally a ten-minute walk from the bank of the Avyavayam River, and he quietly hid behind the cedar bushes at the very small but noticeable hill among others. The view from here of the river and the vast valley was so beautiful, the places were so berry-scented and hunting, and so enchantingly fabulous… And how quiet it is here, and how clean it is, and how pristine it is. …

1

5

.0.

Alexander

Ugolev

always

collects

a

hiking

backpack

in

advance.

Alexander Ugolev collected his hiking backpack in the evening. At four o'clock in the morning, in order not to wake up his wife and son with preparations, he put a loaf of bread in a plastic bag, and from his stash he took out a bottle of Bulgarian Brandy, which was one of the best drinks here on the Kamchatka peninsula in Soviet times, as Tilichik's own food-processing vodka, somehow with friends measured it, it was only 37.5 degrees of fortress, instead of the 40 degrees prescribed by the then GOST. – How much does the food processing plant itself and their directorate in the person of Yeremeyev have… if?… And this question has remained unanswered for both of them until today. Probably all modern millionaires and billionaires like Prokhorov, Mordashev, Vekselberg, Bryntsalov, Berezovsky and many others, and it was from those 1.5 or 2.5 degrees of vodka that were not filled back then in Soviet times, which today have easily turned into their mansions and into their not one million dollar villas, and on the southern coast of France. and in Florida or Miami in the USA, or in such a prim and really capitalistically calm England, and they even successfully invested in those Chelsea football clubs and NBA basketball-American clubs with their names unknown to us, to increase and magnify their untold and unjust riches… Yes, right now, in 1983, it was not important for Ugolev. He will have to live for seven long years to begin those tumultuous, those special nineties, and then those memorable two thousandth years, which will change so many things in our entire fleeting lives, from our rigid thinking to the way of our very lives, radically changing our entire worldview and, how it will be difficult for us to do all this then, with what difficulty we will have to break all the long-established stereotypes and drastically change all our views. And for some, this will be impossible in principle, even beyond their physical and moral strength. And in their exorbitant anguish, in their spiritual impulse, they will fall into the abyss or into the abyss of history, and history itself, great Time, and Space itself will grind them, and all their moral views, and even their established principles, leaving behind only a small piece of sand from that durable "concrete", from which they were previously all molded… And today, this Bulgarian Brandy drink somehow warmed them both in a special way, somehow worried about his still young soul, although he had not been a proponent of real drunkenness since his childhood until he was completely "cut off", when he seemed to know nothing, when he seemed to know nothing. And you don't remember. But here's how I met Vadim Terentyevich Goryainov, who was about twelve years older, there wasn't a Saturday off or a red Sunday so that they wouldn't get on their narrow skis and, even in the cold in January, when the frosts here were at thirty degrees and both didn't go to the nearest river in the Bogulyanovskoye tract, or downhill, Loose, or even to the Fly Agaric tract and for fish, and to relax a little, and naturally take a break from the labors in the village of Tilichiki. And, in that cozy house of his, they had firewood and a piece of coal from a passing tractor, which took only a couple of bags to Khailino, and then you can just sit here by the stove and look into such a fabulous red and warm flame blazing in the stove, and also listen to the evening stories of all the local fishermen, all the guests are hunters and just by chance, who came on the occasion of vacationers, since there is no theater, no museum, or even a simple restaurant in the area for five hundred kilometers, where a man can simply take his soul away, talking easily, without protocol, without supervision, without their eternal socialist censorship, which has probably been in the blood of each of us since 1933 or 1947....

16.0.

War

and

bread

…

And Alexander Ugolev, walking slowly on his wide skis, remembered how his mother had taught and carefully instructed him when he was a little boy. – Son, you're a frozen bread, but never put it to your chest and don't cut it! Oh, then in February 1942, the Hungarians were at our Savintsy camp, and they brought frozen bread from the field kitchen, and for joy they put a dagger in a loaf and leaned it against their chest for convenience, and from the frozen bread, the tip slipped into their own chest… And… And go figure out if his own people killed him or killed himself, or maybe those brave Savinsky partisans did it to him in the early morning…

1

7

.0.

Young

people

went

fishing

fast.

So far, the two of them were walking young and rather sporty. Pass through a Wide stream. Rostislav Andreevich Zhilenko, a school colleague of the physicist, was caught up with ahead, he was a veteran of the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945, who, despite his years, was still such a tenacious walker that this young 33-year-old Alexander Yakovlevich could not keep up with the sixty-year-old rangy old veteran, as the youngest lacked a breathing apparatus. – And, it is not clear why? – It was as if he was well-trained, and still quite young and energetic, but that old front-line and army bearing, that four-year-old army habit of long-standing transitions, was hidden somewhere inside that withered old man and war veteran, and now it seemed that his thin veins were not at all they strain themselves when he walks through the local hummocky tundra like this, not staying for a minute and not showing others that he is tired or it is hard for him to walk. When they came to the Avyavayam River, which was not far away, Alexander Yakovlevich's underwear, though cotton, had long been soaked by the sweat that had come out of his body, and already, after the first hole he cut on foot, he was so chilled here on the ice that an unstoppable tremor went through his still young body.… Now they began to produce new thermal underwear, and even for special forces soldiers with even greater absorbency, and then we were happy with simple cotton and even fleece army underwear.… And he looked away, shivering from the cold, which seemed to come from somewhere inside. Rostislav Andreevich Zhilenko, a teacher and veteran, stood a little to one side, as he came first, but Alexander was in no hurry to drill the ice, much less fish, as he wanted to do right away. And first, he slowly unpacked his bulky and weighty hiking backpack, took out his underwear, just like Alexander and Vadim's, and, ignoring the light snow and the northern, as always fresh breeze, he began to change his underwear, first undressing literally to the waist. Then, he did the same with his underpants and, after hanging the same wet underwear on the nearby bushes of the coastal willow, and only then picked up his long ice axe. They didn't take any special tools for fishing anymore. This time, they also did not take their elongated steel ice drills, as they expected that the thickness of the ice would not exceed 7 centimeters, well, 10-15 centimeters at most in places, and Alexander Yakovlevich himself was also coping with his heavy-duty steel hatchet, which was attached to his wide army belt, which was prudently fastened with two straps. harnesses. And, Alexander Yakovlevich immediately analyzed these actions of Rostislav Andreevich and realized that changing (replacing) moistened underwear with absolutely dry underwear allowed the dry old man to feel quite comfortable in the local cold, and he and Vadim Terentyevich had to heat a kettle on a primus stove to keep warm and also drink a glass from the inside as-I wish I had a Brandy warming them up to add calories to my inner stove, but still it was pretty cool for both of them today.... And after that, following the example of an experienced veteran, for every fishing trip in winter, Alexander Yakovlevich, like an experienced veteran, took a dry spare change of underwear and even dry spare socks in his backpack and, having changed clothes even without the usual alcoholic "tonic" in the form of one hundred grams of brown Brandy, he felt all day. it is quite warm and comfortable on every fishing trip, even at sub-zero local temperatures, often reaching thirty or even forty degrees, not like off the coast in Tilichiki, where the temperature rarely dropped below 20 degrees below zero. And he prudently cut a loaf of bread into thin slices or small crackers in advance at home, because on the very first day he remembered those Romanians in 1942, when he tried to cut an ice loaf with his folding knife, which was not something to cut, but simply could not enter its frozen flesh.… And when they caught the same goldfish and the nimble, dark-haired charitons he loved, they both had no limit to his joy and satisfaction, and the real pleasure of being united with the local nature itself. Especially when you are still young, when you are so energetic, when you are absolutely healthy, when you are surrounded by loyal and devoted friends who are able not only to give sound advice, but also to help and support you at any moment.… And how much has been discussed with them and their friends, how much has been learned, and not what is written in books or magazines that have been censored more than once, but directly from this human book of life, which was also written in their expressive eyes, which look at you so sympathetically and quietly tell you about their whole lives, and about the lives of other people, they often tell you, and sometimes they share with you what they have lived for a long time, selflessly share what they have seen with their own eyes, and this is our real life, different from the one often written in newspapers or even shown on TV in those days., when at party or Komsomol meetings it is impossible, except for the officialdom, to hear your soul tugging at a word. And yet this current Brezhnev hypocrisy, this party duplicity, is realized only after time has passed, and especially today, when you remember those bonuses given out in their district committee of the CPSU in envelopes, and their pomposity, and often ostentatious poverty, which could not be compared with what you yourself had to go through. both in childhood and in his youth, when he studied at the institute… Simple fishing is the real Kamchatka life. The journey to the river is also their life, even training and supporting the hearts of each of them. The joy that the backpack has become heavier from the catch is also life… and so, when you come home and there is a basin full of still fluttering fish, and the youngest son asks: – Dad, he watches her splash her tails, and he climbs after her almost into the bathroom to catch her with his not yet skillful hand. And this is also their Kamchatka life. Because you are responsible for her, because you are obliged to guide and support this inexperienced hand for a long time, just by squeezing it in your palm, so that he feels your strength and so that he feels all your will… And you have to support his son for a long time, and you also have to teach and mentor him, and teach him about his life. To teach him how to hold a long rod, and to give her his pen a rebuff point when life circumstances require it, and all this is the multifaceted life with which our earthly happiness is formed, from which our great worldview and all our local Kamchatka worldview are formed. …

1

8

.0.

And

today

the

frost

is

all

seventeen

degrees.

The frost in the morning was literally at seventeen degrees, the water on the Avievayam river, 11 km from the district center of Tilichiki, became those very special autumn days here, when cyclones do not end for a long time, when there comes an incredible autumn fishing for the icy still fat khariton, which has not lost weight over the long winter, which is on the local mosquitoes. gadflies fed from the blood of deer and immeasurably large and beautiful red caviar were well fed during the fleeting summer and when you drag its weighty, bending carcass through the narrow hole of an ice hole, and how it takes when you see, passing his artificial fly or a light homemade yellow spinner into the glass ice, he looks at the rapid for a long time from under the shore, where he just hid, to make a single, measured and sure jump in the water, and you feel the tension and light beating of a thin 0.05 or 0.10 mm fishing line, and now he's already it flutters its black diamond sides against the ice, and now it's using its gill fins to help itself breathe in this November, this kind of frosty, oxygen-saturated air, and what? There is no help for him from these convulsive movements. The special terrestrial air in which we all live, in which we seem to be dissolved and which we breathe so often, does not help Khariton at all now outside his native water element. Our air is not his habitat, it is not his vital element… So is man. Our very life, its very circumstances, often put him past his willpower and inner desire on the wrong path, not in those life circumstances, which we dream of in early childhood, which we often passionately want, which we probably intuitively strive for sometimes, and without saying anything about our intentions not to your nearest and dearest, not even to your family, much less to your best friends. And after Khariton was pulled out of the water on the fifth or seventh, after the sixth or seventh sharp foot hole was punched in the ice, after the local hot tea warmed on a small Bumblebee camping primus, pre-filled at home with A-82 gasoline and those hundred, obligatory military ones, those "people's Commissariat" Brandies without which he and Vadim Terentyevich had never done without any of their fishing, Alexander Ugolev in his balloon jacket is now easy, sprawled out on the smooth ice and began to observe all the local Kamchatka river life down there, marveling and marveling at its diversity. – Here's a yellow leaf floating by. Here the bug was swept away by the stream. And here, a frisky goldfish showed its side, shining in the sun. And that's where the dark, predatory chariton hid. He's a thunderstorm of red caviar, a thunderstorm of all the local mosquitoes and gnats, and what tender meat he has, what incredibly delicious, what vitality he also has, and he thought… – How great, how wise our earthly Nature is, to create and create such incredible beauty over millions of years, to ensure such complete biological self-organization and a fairly simple expediency, when from a simple rounded protein globule, from a pea, after a while, such a handsome man emerged, so smart, so persistent and, even more persistent, like Khariton, and not only him, but also the man himself. And how much work did this unknown unearthly "sculptor" have to do to make it all work out easily, and also to bring to life a real earthly life, hiding somewhere in that unknown genetic code of ours, which only by straightening out determines the color of our hair and our eyes, and our appearance He repeats it from generation to generation without forgetting anything… "How's it going?" And why?.. – And how he spent the whole winter here in this water, which freezes in places to the very sandy bottom, and people who know the local places told him then that only khariton stands in the pits in winter and you can take it there not less, but even more, since there is a lot of it in those pits in January, And even in March, he's here, because now he's nowhere out of that hole. There is thick ice everywhere, literally all the way to the bottom of the river.... And, well, when the March sun presses its rays with meltwater from under the ice, it is not known where it comes from, then the living local water will boil so quickly, and all the local Kamchatka winter river fishing will be cut off in a moment, since the water is muddy and your spinner is not visible to the fish at all. The spring water itself is bubbling, the water turns brown and turbid easily, swelling the ice on the ridges, spills down and wait for the spring flood to come soon, when everything clears at once before the hot summer, when all the brown mountain clay will be demolished into the Hidden Bay to form this narrow and long Corfu spit, and more, and that brown coal, which itself somehow comes out of the local Kamchatka Land and not only here in Tilichiki, but also in the coal Bear, where its layers are up to 6 meters and its reserves are about fifty million tons. – That's how many years a river like Avyavayam or the neighboring Vyvenka has been working there to accumulate those millions of tons of brown coal. And how long has all this wealth been born? Today, the sun reached the ground through the clean air with its rays. But now, there was no special summer warmth. And, is this due to its distance from the Earth of the Sun itself, or to the special inclination of the Earth's axis itself? … Do you even think about this when the cold pierces you to every bone, when standing on the ice, you feel that special cosmic primordial cold here on the river, which comes from its very depths, from somewhere out of absolute cosmic zero and tries to freeze you here into this absolutely transparent, fascinating consciousness is made of ice, only to be ground into the smallest sand by the waves of the sea, turning you and turning all your thoughts into nothing.… And you often ask yourself the question: – And what will happen after us?.. But now Alexander Yakovlevich concentrated and sprawled on the transparent, clean ice for a long time, and enthusiastically began to observe the local underwater life and compared himself to something special and incredibly Divine. And he was exactly 33 years old. As the people say: – The age of Jesus Christ. And it seemed to him that he was now and this second, just like himself, and the Lord God, the creator of all earthly things, was watching us, our earthly life and his from his heaven.… After all, our Creator, having created us and our whole life, can no longer be that everyday guide who, like your parent of your child, guides us through life. It is his Divine providence, his Divine task, having created us and once, having breathed his Divine soul into us, to release us all along the swift current of this Avyavayama river of life. And then, maybe once, or even twice in our entire long and short lives, someone else will come into contact, slightly correcting our path, and pushing us back to the fast track of life, which someone will have a successful career and family happiness, and the other.... Or maybe he will ever give a fulcrum, pointing out with his imperious finger and his heavenly Thunder how we live here on Earth and where to go in our human environment, as well as to this fabulous mobile, still alive grayling, whose living space was now limited by the bottom after such frosts. The Avyavayam River itself, and from above, the grayling was in a hurry, enjoying the light of the daytime Sun, and finding its high-calorie food, and basking in its rays., since by evening his rays will hide behind the hill and he will not see the feed in the pitch darkness, constantly struggling with the current of the river. And the current of the river itself will never be here. The local life itself will be constantly moving, and he will still stand on this deep pit for the whole winter, wagging his tail over and over again, so that only in early spring, only when this thick ice leaves, he can go out for a quick roll and then show all his aquatic prowess, catching the abundant local mosquitoes, gadflies and midges and to start a new life cycle and, like all local fish, lay their eggs in a sandy hole, and water their male friends abundantly with white juicy milks, and then wait a long time for their nimble native fry to appear from the washed sand., which will require a lot of skill from him to teach him all the wisdom of the local river, their special spatial river, their eternal life.... But all this will only happen next spring, in the future in 1984.... – But our future is not a definition category according to the verified opinion of a Russian physicist and theorist, and also a real practitioner, Andrei Sakharov. – And how right he was then! All this will happen in the future and in his New Year, when he will be 34 years old. And today, in his 33rd year of life, at that special blessed and happy age of Jesus Christ, when everything is still possible, when everything is still so desirable, when there are still young forces and there is a real opportunity, when your head is spinning with the joy of your present real life, when it is spinning with the happiness of your earthly dwelling and, from the opportunity to just breathe this fabulously frosty, this velvety, ringing Kamchatka special, frosty air as pure as steel…

And we understand that the memorable year 1984 will be for all of us, when two new earthly lives will be conceived by two different young mothers. And, almost every day, two boys will be born, one on June 18 and the other on December 14, and they will have such a different fate. There will be other difficulties, and maybe there will even be problems, and there is a simple present today, which in itself is as dynamic as this clear water – the nilgykyn mymyl on Avyavayamskaya or Vetveivayamskaya, or there is far beyond that winding rapids.… He looked under the transparent first autumn Avyavayama ice and marveled at those and such wise philosophers who said that we would never set foot in the same water twice.… – And it really is!!!– he understood it clearly. He saw it here and felt their philosophical dictum! Here is this clear water –nilgykyn mymyl, which he just saw. It slides easily and steadily, without leaving the riverbed, into the Bering Sea, then moves with marine coriolis currents into the vast Pacific Ocean, and there it heats up again at the equator and easily evaporates, and it will fall out again here in the form of dank rain and snow, and again rushes from the hills and thawed areas. into the same rapid mountain river Avyavayam, or into the Branches, or into such a mighty Vyvenka itself, but this is different, this is not our original water that gave birth to us earlier, which created us earlier, but this is completely different water, unknown to us… And so it whirls, just as we are spinning in this life, both creating and at the same time philosophically denying everything and everything on earth, and here on the Avyavayam river and in the Tilichiks themselves, and there on the Vetveyvayam river and in the village of Vetvey, where there is a parallel life and as long as Alexander Ugolev knows nothing about it, just like us Today we do not know about those four or now seven billion suffering lives, who, like all of us, create and deny at the same time… – Is this the water that has evaporated far away there, or has it come to our Pacific Ocean? And how did it actually mix up, how did its individual atoms spread out, and after how many years would this particular molecule that he sees and feels now return to the same place? – And will he ever come back? – What does the statistics say about this? – What does probability theory tell us about this? … – And maybe it will take more than one thousand or a million years before it returns to us from unknown depths, from that unknown tertiary period millions of years ago, in the form of abundant steam from numerous volcanoes here or the source of the Malkin deep well No. 14 from depths of 642 meters or nearby in Lakes from depths of two or more kilometers.? … – So are we! Once, having flown out of our native parental nest, we come from here so rarely, then on vacation once every two years, we often visit our relatives, friends and even close people, but never our story, our life does not repeat itself. Now everything is always new. Everything on another turn of this philosophical is not likely, as well as the spiral of life twisted in a whirlwind.… – And where, and how quickly this spiral will twist all of us and everyone individually, and today, on November 4, 1983, neither Vadim Terentyevich Goryainov nor Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev himself knew, and did not know, and could not know, neither mother Tatiana knew about it there on the Branch, neither Dimka's son Vayamretyl, since this is forbidden by our eternal Time itself, which can only be in new physical theoretical concepts that are incredibly difficult for us to understand, like strings and superstrings, it cannot be literally reversed, but it is not possible in any way, because in our earthly liAnd where, and how quickly this spiral will twist all of us and everyone individually, and today, on November 4, 1983, neither Vadim Tife…

1

9

.0.

And

at

this

time

of

his

reflections

,

Vadim

Terentyevich

caught

another

chariton.

And looking through the ice at the local aquatic life, he thought, ignoring the cheers of Vadim Terentyevich, who pulled out another chariton splashing his tail on the ice and Rostislav Andreevich's approval of his luck.…

20

.0.

And

what

is

the

expression

of

all

our

Divine

providence

and

what

is

its

essence

for

all

of

us?

–

this

question

was

asked

in

1984

by

the

author

of

this

multi

–page

book.

…At that time, he did not have the idea of this book in his head, and Alexey Vayamretyl had not yet been born, he probably had not yet been conceived, about whom we want to tell you, about Alexey, who will only be born in the future in 1984 on December 14… And after thinking about it, lying on the ice, he asked himself: – And what is our whole Divine plan? – What is our great and earthly purpose? And, scratching with his pen, writing these lines, it is only now, only now that he realized that all the best and most Divine things in the most fragile person are precisely what he himself creates and what he himself does, and that he should plant a tree, of course. it is necessary, and he will also need to build a house or finish it, of course, he will need to raise his beloved son, and it is probably better not to raise one, but also to have a long-awaited daughter…

21.0

Nine

of the

most

famous

Japanese

samurai

biographical

information,

which

was

always

in

the

folder

of

Alexei

Vayamretyl.

Kusinoki

Masashige.

(1294-1336).

Kusunoki Masashige was a humble landowner who swore allegiance to Emperor Go-Daigo in 1331, pledging to provide him with military assistance. For the first time, he had to hold the top of an unnamed hill with five hundred soldiers until Prince Moritaga came to his aid. But helping the emperor proved to be useless. Go-Daigo was imprisoned, and Kusunoki and Prince Morinaga had no choice but to start a rebellion. In a three-week battle, Masashige's vastly outnumbered forces took Akasaka and Mount Congo. But although the government forces cut off Kusnoki's army from the water source, he was determined to continue the battle. After ordering torches to be lit throughout the castle, he slipped away, leading Hojo to believe that he had committed suicide. The following year, Kusunoki raised a new army, launching a campaign against the shogun's government in Kinai, while Prince Morinaga raised other large landowners and warriors to march against Kamakura. In early 1333, significant government forces were sent to conquer Chihaya, another fort on Mount Kongo, which was defended by Kusunoki, Yoshino, where Morinaga's headquarters were located, and Akasaka, which came under the control of Shogun Hirano. Akasaka and Yoshino got together quickly, but Kusunoki had time to prepare Chihai for a prolonged confrontation. Using everything from boiling water to rolling logs, Kusunoki withstood the siege until Takauji and his army approached Kyoto and occupied the city in the name of the emperor. But the truce did not last long. In 1336, Takauji withdrew from the imperial coalition and Nitta Yoshida became the supreme commander at the Go-Daigo court. He sent a parliamentarian, offering Kusunoki to join the loyal troops, but he did not want to fight Takauji. Always loyal to the emperor, Masashige raised troops to meet the army, which he considered doomed. But before entering the battlefield, Masashige forced his eleven-year-old son Masatsura to take an oath to remain brave and loyal to the emperor. This episode is often depicted in Japanese art. Kusunoka's army straddled the western bank of the Minatogawa River, and Nitta, who was stationed on the eastern bank, covered its flank from the south. When the battle began, Sony attacked Nitta from the front, while Hosokawa went upriver and attacked him from the rear. Nitta withdrew, leaving the seven hundred men at Kusunoka's disposal to face the army of Ashikaga Tadayoshi. After a six-hour battle, Masashige and his brother Masasue committed suicide, and they were joined by those vassals of the Kusunoki clan who had not yet been killed by that time. After the Meiji Restoration, Kusunoki Masashige was proclaimed a national hero, a samurai loyal to his emperor until his death. From the book: Lewis T., Ito T. Samurai: the way of the warrior (Translated from English – M.: Publishing house "Niola Press" 2008. pp.184-185.

22

.0.

His

confidence

in

his

role

of

Jesus

Christ

and

in

his

divine

predestination

of

our

destiny

for

each

of

us

here

on

our

Earth.

And he is sure that in his entire sixty-year life, all this will work out, but whether our hero Alexei Vayamretyl would like to succeed … he will then want to see, but for this, he will have to live for almost three more decades, those three such long and difficult decades for him, which you passionately worry about. which you constantly think about and which you yourself sincerely suffer from …

23

.0.

Their

names

and

their

Namylansk-Koryak

surnames.

When Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev first began to get acquainted with Kamchatka and the peoples of Kamchatka, he noticed that the Kamchadals had different names, and especially surnames, and it was difficult for him to figure out their pedigrees himself. And the same surnames are the Danilovs, Tamara Khuphi and Abram Abramovich Uley, Kirill Vasilyevich Kilpalin and Rozilia Grigoryevna Dechuli and Ivan Arkhipovich Yakimenko, the Loginovs and numerous Longinovs, Kirill Chirva and his family, and clans, tribes and tribes, Obertinsky, Akhytka, Umyavilkhin, Ninani, and also Vikovav, Akhytka… Even in 1984, birth certificates often recorded the last name from the words, and rarely from the passport of one of the parents, and many did not officially sign at the local registry offices, or rather, marriages were not actually registered, and children could be recorded by their mother's last name, father's last name, and sometimes grandfather's last name. and even by the name of their great-grandfather, or even great-great-grandfather… The secretaries of the forty Koryak village councils in the Koryak Autonomous Okrug wrote it down as it was convenient for them, as they considered necessary, and it is clear that many of those registrars were not particularly literate and, this is in the twentieth century, but what really happened in the 19th, 18th, 17th centuries and earlier, we naturally do not say, since then human life was nothing, not like his passport or another document, and why would he then?… And their names? This is a separate story for a whole huge ethnographic study. What is the name of Tilichik old-timer Abram Abramovich Beehive worth? It is clear that when the Cossacks compiled yasacha books here in 1741-1742, there was no such modern concept as passports or identity documents among the indigenous peoples of the Kamchatka peninsula. Yes, and before the beginning of the twentieth century, there was no need for them either, and all the names on the peninsula were naturally brought by those tsarist service people and they were brought by the Cossacks, who performed this work to one degree or another according to their understanding, the task assigned to them and received elsewhere. education, even at a parish school or other educational institution, if there was one in the village where he was born. So, both our Alexey and his brother Dmitry have beautiful and purely Slavic names, but the surname Vayamretyl is surprisingly native to them, homegrown here, they are ancient, their special Namylanite, which we will probably talk about later.…

24.0.

Denis's

persistent

dumbness.

Denis, when he saw for himself that his father was being carried away by a fast stream of water under the ice, screamed loudly: – Dad, Dad! – and, only the echo reflected many times from the hills and from the wall near the river forest… "Father! Oh-t-e-ts!! O-t-e—ts!!! Then all he could hear was the echo of his own high-pitched childish voice crying out from the hills, his emotional outburst, into which he put all his strength so that he would suddenly lose his voice and the ability to speak. – Father!!, Dad!!!– and these were the last words that his father might have heard from him from under the ice, and these are the last words that he utters here, plunging, probably, into his eternal dumbness of daily fear, his constant loneliness, and even their childish, special hopelessness and inability to do anything. and do it, or do something to help him there under such transparent ice… When they found him alone in the local forest, Dmitry was constantly silent, and for three or five years he did not say anything else out of fright, and did not answer any questions about what really happened to his father there. …… Maybe he would have remained mute if his mother hadn't sent him to a round-the-clock kindergarten in Tilichiki after this incident, where he was naturally warmed up and sincerely treated by all the tutors, and she herself lived in an empty house there on the Branch for another three years, until the village was completely moved to Khailino, and she I decided to move in with my cousin in Tilichiki, and I've already settled down here in the district center.…

2

5

.0.

Their

clean

water

is

nilgykyn

mymyl.

The

river

branches

the rivers

and

their

ancient

special

customs.

Denis Vayamretyl grew up on the Vetveyvayam River, a left tributary of the bolshaya Vyvenka river in the old and ancient village of olennykh Nymylan-Koryaks and Chukchi in the village of Vetvey, when he was 7 years old, his parents, or rather his mother and him, were transported to the Tilichiki regional center, although they walked for a long time afterwards or traveled by public transport in early spring to their native semi-abandoned a village where only three lonely old men remained, as well as at least some buildings and dugouts newly dug by young people to go fishing and breathe the cleanest air here., and also to hunt on the banks of the tributaries freely spread out in the valley of the Vyvenka River and its tributaries of the Branches. Dmitry no longer remembers what their father called them, only the warmth of his father's hands remained in his soul when he lifted him, dragging him over the high side of the duralumin boat, which they had replaced three years ago, and had previously used a narrow and long wooden boat carved from thick poplar by their grandfather Ilya. The day his father went under the water, when Dmitry was only 6 or 7 years old, he remembers like today. In his childhood memory, it was reflected and imprinted for the rest of his life, and there is always that particularly transparent surface of ice, and every time he looks at the water, even in summer, he sees his father's face floating under the thick glass and how his alarmed cry reverberates around: "Father!!! Father!!!! Father!!!!! – this is reflected from the nearby gentle hills to remind him that he is still alive, that he still hears and naturally sees. And, the stormy, clear water stream of nilgykyn washed away then, carried away his beloved father forever, and in his memory only remained the warmth of his breath and the great strength of his young hands as he dragged him over the side of a shiny whitish boat filled with silvery, still fluttering, various local fish mixed together: coho, pink salmon, sockeye salmon, sesame, chinook burbot, grayling and char – all this was found in abundance in the river and constantly fell into their slightly greenish by forty millimeters catchy mesh nylon new Japanese mesh. And he remembered how grandfather Ilya also told him about the attitude to this river water and the proper death on the water in their family. Although many Chukchi and Koryaks today already know how to swim well, they retain in their blood a special, reverent, probably transmitted with genes and a divine attitude to the power of the local water, which is so blue and clear in autumn. – nilgikyn washed, and at the same time to the fast water, which gives life itself to everything on earth, and also that special spiritual life of ours, and this is the same water that simultaneously, when it wants to, takes away their lives here, and the lives of their fellow tribesmen, regardless of whether he received the present in this life. earthly satisfaction, and whether he felt all her possible joys, and even fulfilled his earthly destiny – whether he gave birth to children, the heirs of the local branches of the Namyl. And, Dmitry, when I began to grow up, when I began to consciously think about life, about its great meaning and my earthly destiny, I began to understand that in life we ourselves consciously control some processes, we can influence them, and other processes, like the same river flow, the change of times the seasons, the alternation of day and night are in no way subject to any earthly person, be he as strong a shaman as his grandfather Ilya, and they are beyond the power of even their mighty divine raven – This is how everyone needs to build their lives, their attitude towards these natural quantities and constants, so that you actively and easily adapt to them, skillfully maneuver in the flow of the same fast and clear water-nilgykyn washed without diving into the water itself, which his younger brother Alexei, whom he loved, could not. Dmitry loved immensely, but he could not influence his actions with every day of his growing up, as it was in their branch and, even more, in their special village, only in their memory, their carefree childhood remained, when they unwillingly went to different boarding schools., and for a long time, two siblings were separated, deprived of daily and hourly fraternal special communication, when the elder takes care of the younger, and vice versa, the younger supports the elder and also obeys him, which makes us more relatives and real brothers and sisters.... The black raven Kutkh, their supreme, revered deity, was always a mute witness to how the pure water of the nilgykyn soap, showing its strength and might, took away the most fragile in this world. – their very life, dragging this earthly human body with them into eternity, spraying it in their midst and, unknown how, then, only his trembling soul, transferring it to the boundless heavens, as pure as the water here, where complete peace and true eternity of being awaited him only in the memory of his fellow tribesmen, in in memory of the closest and dearest, namely those who walked along this narrow local path of our Kamchatka life. And, there was not even such a special sacrificial and probably hot fire, lifting up everything that was previously in the human body itself, what it previously consisted of, and what it really was, and what it so often thought about, because on this hot fire, all our desires all our worries, all our worries, all our sufferings, and our love itself, in a moment, from a single physical entity visible and understandable to everyone from our body, streams of hot six-hundred-degree plasma ascended somewhere to a distant height and dispersed into the immeasurable Cosmos, turning into infinitely moving waves of the cosmic ether that we cannot feel, which may someday return to our long-suffering Earth through special modern strings of our immeasurable space in the form of our warm memories, our joyful hopes, our beloved children and beautiful and often disobedient grandchildren, and for someone happier than ourselves and even little great-grandchildren. And then the vibration of this taut string of our life itself closes in an instant, as if in unison with our desires, it closes into this philosophical spiral and cosmic string unknown to us, giving a new round of the same sufferings, the same selfless love and true passion, regardless of their age, regardless of their wealth or from poverty and even from our health… Such complex thoughts visited Dmitry in his moments of rest, when his hands itched and rang with fatigue, when he pulled a net full of still, fluttering various local river fish onto the shore, and she fluttered for a long time on the shore against the gray sand, opening her rounded gills rhythmically, trying to inhale the remnants of either air or air. That clear river water, the nilgykyn, was washed away so that it would wash her quickly, drying up her gills and, with every passing minute, depriving her of the precious local river branch of her life. And now, unbeknownst to the fish, that at this moment, it is already, being boiled in an ear or dried with yukola or withered, or maybe slightly smoked fish, it gives the power of a real new life in these moments to Dmitry himself and his so ancient, and so famous Kamchatka, vetveivayamsky, Vyvensky family of Vayamretylov, all his current ancestors, all the branches of the Yamaya and the great Vyvenka river lying here on the water, as well as the Pyrgavayama and numerous unnamed tributaries of this great Kamchatka river. And Dmitry himself understood that his efforts were very necessary, that he had to hurry before the ice became strong in order to harvest so many fish that there would be something to feed the team of 9 dogs he loved all through the long winter, and that there would be something to feed all his relatives and cousins, and even his little sister, so how now Dmitry was in charge of their family, and he alone had the responsibility to support the family, and Dmitry was only thirteen years old.

2

6

.0.

Such

a

belated

prologue.

Kirill

Vasilyevich

Kilpalin

is

a

Topolev

-Khailinsky

artist

and

Dmitry

's

uncle.

After

all, the

guy

found

his

voice

again.

Alexey told his eldest and only brother Denis when he came home from boarding school with Yelizovo.: "That's my vow: "Never let yourself be outdone on the path of a warrior.", Always be a helper to your master Be a good son to your parents, Always be compassionate and be kind to the person." And then he continued enthusiastically, watching the surprised expression in Dmitry's eyes. "By following these four commandments, brought to the gods and Buddhas, and repeating them every morning, you will gain the strength of two people and will never deviate from the righteous path. We need to move forward step by step, avoiding sharp corners. The gods and Buddhas also started by making this vow." "Hagakure", Yamamoto Tsunetomo (1659-1719). These probably several long two short quotes from Yamamoto Tsunemoto's book "Hagakure", written on a thick paper with a rather immature child's hand and outlined in a colored red felt-tip pen, always hung at boarding school on the worn cotton bedside mat of Alexei Vayamretyl, born on December 14, 1984, twenty days earlier and three years earlier. later than the date of birth of his best friend Danila Kangin on January 4, 1981. And there was something mystical about these two units, the date of Danila's birth and the two fours in Alexey's date of birth, although not a single astrologer to whom we sent our questions could unravel this unique phenomenon. But his friend Danila Ruslanovich Kangin has only two ones and only one four in his date of birth, and no one we talked to saw any obvious connection or significant differences, except for the age difference of three years. One friend is Alexey Jr., and the other is Danila, who is older. Our heroes themselves did not know about this: neither Alexey Alexandrovich Jr., nor Danila Ruslanovich, their elder friend and even their mentor, or their elder friend Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev, who was wise in life experience. And how can all knowledgeable and all understanding astrologers explain our great, our unique and unique life, which is lost somewhere on the very edge of our invisible spiral Galaxy, rushing with unimaginable speed through the vastness of space and so easily, carrying all of us only in one single direction somewhere ahead. And that beyond those distances that we do not see today and hardly anyone will recognize from us, and probably only our vague memories will remain, there will remain those warmest and most joyful moments that we all once experienced, often and for a long time, communicating with each other, almost every day, seeing each other, knowing almost everything about each other and about other earthly people. – But did we understand them? – did we understand their lives, in its incredible intricacies? – Have we understood their suffering and their earthly real and intense pain? After all, our earthly life here is some kind of rather incredible fluctuation or an unplanned surge of a clot of primordial dead matter, an outburst of all its energy, and that special areflexion, incredible according to the laws of statistics, that creates us in the mystery of our passionate and often fleeting love, unknown to us. just our two parents, whom we adore. Those divine and only parents for us, who unknowingly, probably by God's supreme providence, gave birth to us, and we were incredibly happy, we were always adored, and we were immensely loved, and even worshipped and deified, worried and suffered for us and for all our earthly successes. And when exactly will the mother's egg merge with the father's, that one and only sperm, the fastest, the strongest, the most agile, and the most hormonal of those in someone's thirty, fifty, seventy, or even out of all one hundred million of them, which are released by a splashing stream, like the white milks of the local red anadromous fish, from a man during his next passionate ejaculation, which always gives him such an unlikely and yet not their earthly pleasure, but also such, it is probably not us who programmed their cosmic-earthly satisfaction from the joy that someone fulfilled a long time ago, compiled for him a great and such a final life program – the continuation of his kind and his kind, and also showing such passion for his only and beloved woman. And since they have merged somewhere out there in the depths of parental life, they are these two cells that have not yet been visible to anyone, either cells or half-cells in the science of embryology, it seems, called zygotes or gametes in the warm womb of the mother with an ideal and also mysterious physical constant that no one has solved and a temperature for them of 37.8 °We are already looking at ourselves on the amazing divine water matrix that is ideal for them. We are so unique, we are so fragile, we are so often unprotected… And then how many more such probabilistic fluctuations in universal Time and in infinite Space will occur during our intrauterine period of nine months, as well as beyond the uterine subsequent development for ten and twenty years, so that we can still mature, so that we can grow up and then be called an earthly great Man, and the same splashing life itself here on the Kamchatka Peninsula, just like our fathers and our parents, our ancestors, grandfathers and grandmothers, and all their ancestors. And so it is from generation to generation here and in other places. So that we may become the same initiators and creators of earthly Life as our parents, who probably did not even suspect then, being in the constant joy of love, that they accidentally conceived us in their frenzy of their young passion, in the frenzy of their real spiritual bliss, and also their real earthly pleasure, and the real non-earthly voluptuousness of unity and love. And, that million or ten million of our fast spermatozoa are that special terrestrial panspermia that we now see in the firmament in the form of an endless Milky Way, in a constantly moving river, where in one place life suddenly originates by unknown mechanisms, and in another place it is based on other principles, but also unknown to us it quickly fades away, plunging into the eternity of those omnivorous black holes themselves. And both of these processes seem to balance each other in the whirl of matter, as matter and antimatter, as visible and black matter, as if they also deify each other, since only that invisible arrow of Time into which both of these processes simultaneously fall, on which they are located, It is only at the diametrically opposite ends of the arrow of Time itself that there is a real great Life, which no one can ever explain to us, not even the probably clever ones, even ancient Aristotle and Aristophanes or modern very clever philosophers., what can't be explained to us by any h2d physicists, even Nobel laureates, who have studied the matter around us down to its very foundations, down to the smallest gluon, muon and boson incomprehensible to any of us, not to mention every student's guided electron, neutron, positron or again the elusive neutrino, telling us that everything in the World happened from a single small point from its subsequent Big Bang, which neither I nor you yourself, dear reader, will ever believe, because neither I nor you are exactly the point where everything begins and where everything ends in a moment. – Maybe I'm wrong? – Maybe this is really how we ourselves start with a small, invisible half-cell. – we start with that maternal and paternal zygote, it is not likely that these two zygotes of the mother and that zygote of the father once merged, as well as the whole World, as well as the entire universe, merging in black holes in some of its sections, gradually accumulates the energy of a future vibrant billions of years of life, to suddenly explode into a massive supernova and. to create another new Galaxy in the history of the Cosmos itself, giving a countdown there and then, and a new Time, where then physical processes will take place, just as in our Milky Way itself, in order to then be, absorbed by another intangible black substance or dark matter that is intangible not only by us, but also by experimental physicists themselves, giving rise to a new big Life, where we, like those small and invisible grains of sand on the seashore, will be rolled and crushed by incoming waves, and the winds themselves, and also the local Kamchatka frosts, and those passions, and with real emotions, and joy along with hatred, and once again joy, and disappointment, and all this is Life, our present earthly Life, which I want to tell and tell, remembering Alexey Vayamretyl and his ambiguous earthly Kamchatka Life.

Or maybe this dark matter doesn't exist, maybe our universe is described by a new non-Euclidean geometry, and then using Time itself as the fourth dimension in those complex formulas, we won't need the dark matter itself, unknown to anyone. And speaking of dark matter, about 65 or even 85 percent of it in the mass of our Cosmos itself, you begin to truly believe in that incredibly powerful Divine force that creates all this Earthly perfection that we ourselves and our friends and loved ones, our relatives and just neighbors are. and all our tribesmen, even here on the Kamchatka peninsula, even far away, where each of us was born… And, probably, it was there that those invisible strongly compressed points of matter from which we all emerged, became real earthly People on the arrow of Time.… And again, you begin to believe that our little dot, even our little life individually, what is it compared to that temporary cosmic Eternity? That's what we're trying to figure out here and now, telling you about just one young kamchadal, this still small and puny Nyman, and at the same time about a Big Man who, in his lifetime, probably wasn't the compressed Point into which all physicists on Earth want to compress existing matter, even today, even though 14.5 billion years back when, as they believe, everyone, including us, was born… And the vastness of his irrepressible thinking, and the vastness of his impulsive actions, stretched understandably much further than we could imagine ourselves and in our imagination if we ourselves had lived as richly and as quickly as he did, if we ourselves would have felt the way he felt here, including including ourselves, if we suffered the way he sometimes suffered bitterly, without feeling our help and the support he needed so much, or even the approval of his earthly endeavors. But it was his fast life full of real earthly happiness and such contradictions, it was his real race for that Olympic super marathon distance, and even if he did not reach the victorious finish line of life, which we all consider to be his happy old age, even if he did not see how his children got back on their feet, and their mother Mariam, how she rejoiced at him in those moments, in those seconds of theirs, and this is their Life, this is their Happiness and his, and their joint Joy of satisfaction from being… And we want to figure this out somehow, maybe like that meticulous practical physicist who doesn't believe in anything, first cutting the great molecules of life into the smallest atoms themselves, and then cutting the atom of life itself into its components, and only then tearing it apart on the most powerful and incredibly expensive cyclophasotrons. and these very things that make up our life, and trying to cut it up on the super-powerful collider at the European Cern, in order to find that unknown primary boson, our omnipresent boson, in order to know our whole life from time immemorial, but we can never touch it., you can't even imagine the formulas by which it is calculated on super-powerful supercomputers, since all this is beyond our ordinary consciousness and beyond our entire perception, so we don't have that special detector, we don't have that special antenna that could touch it and also to feel it, and everything that we do not touch and that we do not feel, we believe that it does not exist. "Is that so?" – Maybe someone doesn't touch or feel us and our thoughts? – Maybe our worries, and all our current and past experiences, will seem insignificant to someone. How insignificant to us is this ghostly and imperceptible boson, which is the basis of everything, including myself. But if I don't know this, how much will my life change and then will my worldview change? And how much will my whole worldview change if someone doesn't care about my worries today and all my worries? … In this multi-million, multi-billion world, there are so many of us, and I, my thoughts, and the course of my feelings are not always important and not always essential in the life of another person, even living next door on the same street, even living in the same apartment building… Often only: -hello! – and the slightly sad look of the one who answered your greeting. "What's behind that look?" So is our long and fast life, no matter how much you cut it into its component parts, no matter how carefully you dissect it, and no matter how I analyze it, not into a hundred, not into two hundred, not into three hundred, or even that thousand pages of concise text, or even ten volumes, because it's impossible, and I understand it myself, it's not possible to just to accommodate it, since our good deeds and intentions are not worth even one tear of a baby, it seems that an eastern sage said a long time ago… And how right he was! And it was only now that I, all of us, realized the futility of our intentions, to reflect, and re-traverse all the Paths of Alexei's Grandfather along the earth's paths, those paths that were probably flooded more than once by those spring waters and, even more, by that clear water. – nilgykyn soap, which probably makes up 98.3% of the fabulous matrix of our entire living, agitated and somehow experiencing body, and it makes up that pure water -nilgykyn soap is the only matrix of our entire earthly life… And how much of our water and special bodily water is subject to super–strong magnetic and high-frequency, and infrasound, and ultrasonic radiation, and those man-made terrestrial, and I'm sure all cosmic rays and radiation are not at all dependent on us, and how much into that clean water – nilgykyl soap today gets pesticides, pesticides, light and heavy radioactive elements, radiation waste, toxins and biotoxins, including from food, and how much of this water absorbs everything in order to simultaneously purify itself and become that clean water again – nilgykyn is a mymyl, in which a new, but completely different life is born, as in these Kamchatka more than a hundred thousand rivers and rivulets, in their spawning grounds every spring, under the influence of an unknown homing, a new red anadromous fish begins to spawn in spring, which then returns in a wall after three and five years, having gained both our weight and the fat that is important to us, in order to be in the same, there is no longer in the new clean water – nilgykyn-mymyl, repeat the same spiral life cycle, but on a new turn, and let's hope that his daughter Diana and his beloved and only son Alexander, on a new turn of their new life, will live their stupidly eventful lives and that their life path will be longer than theirs their father's, and understandably less tortuous than their father Alexei Vayamretyl's…

I wish that one day, suddenly and out of nowhere, their homming would give birth to the same, but already a new Kamchatka passionate life, like all our other little lives here.… After all, fifteen years may be enough for one, like Alexei's beloved wife Mariam, to become the mother of his daughter Daria and then literally a year later to become the mother of his son Alexander again at seventeen, but Alexei himself needed some nineteen years, and his brother Dimka was not even thirty-three years old. since even today he has not yet become a father in this Kamchatka land. And, here is his eldest and best friend Daniel, who recently turned twenty-seven years old, and he has not yet found his only and truly destined one for him, and it is also understandable because he has never become an earthly father, he could not close the coils of his spiral, which is obliged, which must always give on earth. a new life, because by the very nature of man it is ordained from above, from above it is ordained for us in the boundless heavens by our Most High himself. Oh, my brother Ivan is already seventy-one, but in all his long life he has never experienced true earthly happiness, he has not experienced that special pleasure and earthly satisfaction from real fatherhood, since his very fate and, probably, the highest Providence have arranged it so, and now I am the only one – The youngest of the three brothers has to constantly worry about his well-being and worry about it, clearly realizing that everything is in the hands of the highest Providence, everything is in the hands of a great and eternal Time, and our Space is not limited by any earthly or even cosmic limits. For some of us, this eternal Time is quite short, but for others, on the contrary, it takes so incredibly long that it seems there will never be any real end. – And why is it that our fate and their troubled lives on this planet are shaping up like this? This isn't the first time I've asked myself. – And should it be that the richer and more enlightened we become, the fewer of us are born and slowly, but no matter how steadily, according to scientists and demographers, the great Russian people have been degenerating not so long ago? And, despite the fact that the entire Asian world grew incredibly fast before that and so fast, does their entire Muslim world continue to grow, even if it is earthly, even if it is nearby, but their special world is absolutely and probably alien to us? Maybe this is due to the fact that they are more comfortable, that they are warmer, that they have more divine solar radiation, which is as strong as good wine plays in their blood, which is either light yellow, dark brown, or as black as that of Negroids. And is it only in this, in the color of the skin, that everything is so earthly? After all, our blood is so red in all nations. – Probably, there are other non-extraterrestrial, or maybe the simplest and most banal earthly reasons? – I repeat my questions. – Especially those rather fleeting nineties. Let's take the years of our new Russian revolutionary transformations, which we all had to go through, and also each of us individually suffered them. Indeed, back in 1991, there were about 150 million people in Russia after the collapse of the USSR, and now in 2012 there are only about 143 million people. And even the rather substantial current maternity capital and other seemingly effective measures of our leaders of all ranks did not result in an instant, and clearly visible, increase or real revolutionary leap in the population, and even a significant increase in the Russian population. Although demographers note that there is a trend, there is a positive demographic situation, and we are naturally immensely happy about this, along with our politicians, who have chosen the right direction in principle to increase the population of Great Russia and restore its incredibly talented population. And that's who and how these fluctuations, this world's water, its wave running across the sea surface, easily transforms into that unknown water matrix that reflects the entire multifaceted and multifaceted world, and then, after some time, but necessarily, each of us then also easily evaporates on the Kamchatka bonfire, rising then we are forever connected to the same fluctuating boundless and endless Cosmos. – And where are those invisible, imperceptible edges here? – Where does our great unity with the Cosmos begin, and when does it end, and where is that invisible spaceship that carries us through this immeasurable and eternal silence, where is it born – our very life, and then the real struggle begins, our true sufferings begin, and also our frequent upsets, our such disappointments and incredible joy just from the fact that you live here, that you still really feel, that you also think quickly, that you are doing all that what you've been planning for a long time, you've suffered for a long time, and maybe you're even creating something truly beautiful or important for others, you still want to, and every day you can, you realize and comprehend yourself and realize again that you yourself are still so unique by nature., That you're also so unique, except in your children?… And then, over the years, past our will, this life easily turns into a short-term and instantaneous plasma burst, and only then, for each of us personally, such eternal darkness and endless silence for many centuries, which will merge, maybe into millennia, and turn into imperceptible megaparsecs of these interstellar colossal distances, rushing to no one knows where or, conversely, from no one knows where. And, what kind of porridge will be cooked there, will there be music of real happiness and will there be this strict farewell bell ringing, which of us knows today and now, communicating with each other in joy, seeing something, and maybe anticipating something else… And in recent years I've been asking myself: What will remain after us? It can only be that we have done for our souls, as the great and powerful Vladimir Monomakh said and wrote in his letter to Oleg, so long ago, either in the XIII or in the XV century. Oh, it's not that important to me today. A century earlier, a century later. Since it was said by him, it was etched into the notches of my soul by his prophetic word, transmitted to me by historians, as if it were said today and maybe even now by one of us. And so Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev thought for quite a long time and analyzed the actions of his ward, the younger Alexei Vayamretyl, and his friend, his elder Danila, studied their two life paths in detail before, not without the help of daily labor, he took up his sharply honed goose pen to write his memoirs and, at the same time, he often asked himself:

– When was the last burst of Alexei Vayamretyl's plasma when he left it? And what did each of them feel, Danila's friend, Alexey himself, and Alexander Yakovlevich, his senior mentor? – Or maybe it all happened then, in the early days of November 2010, when he, as a true brave and devoted man, learned the idea of devoted Japanese samurai, brought into his mind, and died easily far away in the tundra, long ago so easily abandoned on this Kamchatka land by all of us. Abandoned and alone there in the tundra, and his now grieving brother Dima, and his now suffering mother Tatiana, as well as his disappointed friends Nikolai Umyavilkhin, Daniil Kangin. Moreover, his imminent departure forever from them and all of us is not quite ordinary. Everything happened, after all, not so far from the village of Tilichiki, the regional center on the Kamchatka Peninsula, which in 2013-2014 we are gradually going to celebrate 300 years, honoring in our memory hundreds and thousands of people like Alexey Vayamretyl, and the Nymylans, and the Koryaks with the Chukchi and all the olutors, Laurovetlans, and Evens, and Belarusians, and Russians, and Kazakhs, and Ukrainians, and Tatars with Yakuts, and it is unknown with whom else, because now, at the present time, all their primordial genetic bloodlines in the turbulent historical whirlwind of real life have long been merged into one glass of our vibrant and unique earthly Kamchatka local free life… Or maybe this last plasma burst of his occurred exactly then and at the moment when Alexander Ugolev and his friends saw off on March 3 of the following year on his last journey to that last earthly funeral pyre, which he, being still so young, often dreamed of and often asked for. Alexander Yakovlevich must be cremated here only according to their ancient custom, as before, his great-grandfather was cremated on hot bonfires on the banks of the Vetveyvayama River, and his grandfather, like his father, was burned on, which he often and enthusiastically told Ugolev himself, being proud of both his presence and his hunting successes. And it is interesting that for some reason that last funeral pyre itself burned so badly this time, and then burned so badly. Apparently, his very yellow plasma flame of six hundred degrees resisted his early unnatural departure from all those who still remained here on this Kamchatka land, literally abandoned by him alone, always a Kamchatka samurai, so faithful and so devoted in his soul. Why, the real thing is, he walked away from all of them quite young, leaving us and at the same time turning into a cosmic ether with which we can still honestly communicate every second, stirring up our memory, but we will never see each other here on Earth, we will never feel that quick breathless breath from his running along the path of life here without him, without his eyes, without his special warmth and such a discouraging smile, which he now smiles only from a color photograph., it conveys only those elusive outlines of his earthly, local Kamchatka existence, his intense and so short life. And then the entire funeral team had to pour out more than one canister of oily solara, so that his body, which had remained here on earth for a long time without his aching soul, which had left his body back there on the Kultushnaya River, would quickly connect with his personal, and that special Cosmic infinity unknown to anyone, or perhaps unknown to us.that singularity, and that truly great Cosmic Eternity, when you don't even want to look at that yellow flame swaying in the wind, and you can't, because your eyes have seen more than that in a long life., They've been crying for so long, not obeying your will at all, not obeying your desire not to cry anymore, hiding the bitterness of this loss, and now you can easily understand that these are tears not only for the memory of him, but also tears for your elder brother Boris, and for your beloved mother Efrosinia Ivanovna., and for the gentle and affectionate grandmother Nadezhda Izotovna, and for her aunt Arina Ivanovna, and her sister, for Aunt Ekaterina Yakovlevna, and for Uncle Alexander Yakovlevich, and for their brothers Alexei Yakovlevich, and for Fyodor Yakovlevich., and also for the cousins Viktor Alexandrovich and Vitaly Dmitrievich, and for his drowned young sister Tamara Dmitrievna, for his nephew Nikolai Fedorovich and many more who said goodbye to you a long time ago, who left this world, leaving perhaps only their deep mark in your tenacious memory, leaving a deep notch in it in your memory.. And then you can't sleep at night for a long time, stirring up long-gone days and events that have passed in the flow of Time, remembering all those days and days, and those special earthly moments when joy, and sometimes those moments of excitement that they brought to your aching earthly soul. And, probably, only then, remaining in our also quite often fluctuating memory and remaining in those invisible nerve cells of his still small and understanding nothing about earthly life and the life of the creator, the father of his son Alexander, who united them forever, making us all one tribe, and then by the same Great Russian people, now it doesn't matter where you live today – how far away is it on this forgotten Kamchatka Peninsula – on this edge of the Pacific Ocean, on the shores of the Hidden buta Bay of Corfu, in the village of Tilichiki, which is now very small but has been restored after the catastrophic earthquake of April 21, 2006, or maybe in the very center of Russia and in such a fertile Non-Chernozem region, here in Lipetsk itself or even in the same famous heroic Kursk, where then, when you There was no such bloody, famous and historical Battle of Kursk in 1943, or maybe you're just in Tambov, or almost in the same Voronezh., or in such an ancient and still namoleno-Slavic Smolensk, or here on the spacious Kulikovo Russian field, or maybe in the small village of Zholobovo, Ruzsky district, lost somewhere in the forest, or maybe in the very place that we all have long been praying for, like the historic Sergiev Posad near Moscow. – the current center of our Great Russian Orthodoxy and the center of all Russian Christianity, where just a few days ago, on January 22, 2012, I prayed to those of his incorruptible relics of Sergius of Radonezh, whose greatness and earthly glory have transcended into the depths of Time for many centuries, preserving his divine relics incorruptible, speaking to us from that to many of them we are far from the Middle Ages, which may not be as enlightened as it is today, so that we can reach the most acute pain in my heart and, today, disturb my heart, which has been aching for sixty years, in order to literally touch my soul to the quick, at the same time making her tremble so tenderly, and maybe at the same time asking me what I have done for my soul in these almost sixty years… And then, and there in Sergiev Posad near Moscow, it occurred to me that it was on this vacation that I should finish writing this essay about him, about a simple man on earth, about such a simple man – about Alexei Vayamretyl, a true, loyal samurai, a man with such an open heart and yet so pure, open to all of us with our souls. What do I need, because I can remember everything and share with people what I know about, and also tell people how he lived all these years, what really bothered him here on Kamchatka soil…

And yet, I wanted to tell others, and ask myself why!?… To tell us about him, about his rushing and restless and trembling soul, which was so close with us on this fertile Kamchatka land and on our entire vast Land, which was able to lead him and all of us along these paths and narrow Kamchatka, and along the wide paths trodden by more than one generation of the entire vast and boundless Russia has been around for years, giving true creative inspiration to him and our constant, unstoppable creativity, giving us all strength and real confidence, and also providing the opportunity, to overcome all those temporary difficulties that may be literally in a day, in a week, or even in a month, will seem to us not so likely to be fatal, will appear before our attentive gaze not so insurmountable, and will also be easily forgotten in our memory, probably erased there, or replaced by other momentary ones. the problems of our existence, and then, being in another time interval, we will understand and realize all the frailty of our violent emotions, all the frailty of our temporal and spatial life stereotypes embedded in us by someone., someone may have imposed on us or even importuned by the mass media into our consciousness, all those often unnecessary life-time principles that we often try so vainly to follow, just as he tried to follow his truly samurai medieval precepts and traditions, and their instructions, never once and, having not visited Japan, which is the most beautiful and mysterious for all of us, but only maybe in childhood a few times, after reading about it and many books, having learned about it that there are little ones there, because he is people., that their real special island spiritual life is probably boiling there, real human passions are boiling, even though these people know how to hide their emotions, showing us their devotion and showing us loyalty to their master. Now, sitting at my desk and looking at his color photograph standing on the table in a slightly gilded frame, I constantly ask myself these questions and I can't find absolute, verified, unambiguous and truly correct answers to them. I can't find the only answers that would allow me to truly understand, would allow me to fully realize our entire earthly human frailty and our earthly one, after all, once upon a time, the coming earthly completeness and complete completeness, which certainly and forever puts a single point in our long, though such a short life can then be like his, turning our life into that incredibly black hole that will easily suck up everything that we suffered so violently, what we were so sincerely sick about, what we sometimes worried about and what, they probably couldn't have done it, or even changed it, or even forgiven someone, because at such a moment it all turns into that small, tiny point invisible to others, which hardly anyone will see in the immeasurable Cosmos of our entire Lives.… – Why did he leave all of us so early, and quite easily left his beloved Mariam, and left his son Alexander and daughter Diana? Yes! – Why did he leave all of us who were nearby, who also wanted him to be with us for more than one or two days, now and always, as long as we ourselves remain here on Earth? And that's when you realize that maybe our meeting with him will ever happen at least once, but again, and it will happen! But it probably won't happen here on this Earth anymore, but far away in that Cosmic infinity, in that special cosmic singularity, where exactly those of our biological waves running through the cosmic vastness and those fluctuations that many of us do not understand, which over time we ourselves will all turn into, rushing then unknown. where, and it is not known for how long, because it is not possible for any of us earthly inhabitants to understand and realize with our earthly human mind that our Cosmos is eternal, that it is at the same time so infinite. This is probably because our God-created Consciousness, often in such a fragile body with its own finite dimensions, as in women, is humorously noted by men as 90x60x90, and in men it is their 165 or 175 centimeters tall, often ending with our fingertips, sharp nails on them, or fluffy hairs, and even with the tip of their nose or the edges of our ears, they do not allow your whole thinking consciousness to understand and clearly feel that the great Cosmos itself is eternal and probably still infinite, at the same time when we ourselves are finite., and sometimes we can't grow more than one meter by seventy-two centimeters, and someone is taller than one meter, and eighty centimeters, and even the third one is incredibly happy who is two meters tall or taller, like our famous artists Philip Kirkorov or NBA basketball players who left for the USA in the NHL league, and whom we we can only see it sometimes on TV, hearing the comments of announcers and sports commentators with an enthusiastic story about all of them. But at the same time, I also want pediatrician Volodya Shelapugin, surgeon Igor Kosygin, my friend electrician Volodya Dubrov, my friend Alexei Vayamretyl, my well-known friend Vladimir Alekseevich Vladimirov, and the chairman of the collective farm named after him to be with me today. Viktor Antonov, and the secretary of the Olyutorsky district committee of the CPSU, Semyon Gubarev, and my brother Boris Alekseevich, and my beloved mother Efrosinia Ivanovna, and my never-forgotten grandmother Nadezhda Izotovna, and my aunts Orina Ivanovna and Ekaterina Yakovlevna, and my cousin Viktor Dmitrievich, and his sister Tamara Dmitrievna, aunt and uncle Anna Alexandrovna Struchalina and Fyodor Markovich Sushchenko, and Efrosinia Evdokimovna and Vasily Markovich Sushchik, and many, many of those passionate people whom you have known for a long time and who so unexpectedly, so, As always, they suddenly left and left all of us forever, so that we could suffer here alone and still suffer, fight and always win. So that we can overcome ourselves, first of all, because I understand that all the problems, all the sorrows are in our soul, in our trembling, constantly fluctuating consciousness, which intuitively understands the desire to live, often destroys itself with its habits, its traditional customs and its beliefs, which are absorbed by one with his mother's milk from birth, and someone else may have been inspired by someone, brought by someone into his trembling consciousness that does not find a real earthly home.… And it's only now that you realize, holding your sharpened pen in your right hand, that you realize that the best tombstone for all of them, the best indestructible granite monument to them, will still be what you will ever write about them, as you wrote about your meetings with Kirill Vasilyevich Kilpalin, which your creative editor To Svetlana Ivanovna Zhdanova, they seemed as sophisticated as those of the great M. Dostoevsky himself. Now, to all of them, and above all to Alexey Vayamretyl, the true samurai will have an earthly monument exactly what you share about him with others, and even if you don't remember everything now for sure, maybe you don't know everything for sure from those fleeting thoughts that were in his seething and often explosive conscious. Maybe you've thought of something for coherence and consistency, maybe it's your fantasy, but it's probably not that far from our earthly truth, because it can be difficult to grasp the course of our thoughts and actions, and often it's practically impossible.. This is probably due to the fact that often our thoughts, our plans, our special night dreams and fantasies differ significantly from what we actually do, what else we talk about, why we may also cry bitterly. Often our thoughts, our emotions, our behavior and our movement are not the same and are not reflected as we understand it, as we would like to see it ourselves or would like to explain it to others now, often justifying or embellishing reality itself, distorting, as in a crooked mirror, all earthly realities themselves…

But now you can't even fall asleep without holding your sharp goose feather in your right hand, and not knowing to yourself and others about them, about their lives, about their experiences, about their true earthly aspirations.... And now I'm kind of asking myself: – Did Alexey's last outburst reach us when he was dying in November 2010 of my sinking heart and why did it hurt so much then that I even had to take, besides validol, a couple more small tablets of nitroglycerin. And then I didn't call an ambulance home, because this acute chest pain had already subsided in ten or maybe fifteen minutes, which told the doctor himself that I had managed to eliminate another angina attack this time, albeit with difficulty, and successfully stop it. And now you can breathe calmly and think and comprehend slowly.… And at the same time, you also need to understand that you need to hurry to write.… Because such a second attack may be for you, it may be for your life, for your earthly being, and then you will not have time and will never tell others about what really worried you here on the peninsula, what worried you from the bottom of your heart, and what was truly meaningful to you. and so much more substantial…Then you yourself will become that small point from which something will happen again, just like that, and suddenly be born… In order to get something out of it, it will take a new supernova explosion, so that with its bright flash it notifies us that a new, real life is being born somewhere, a new, unique world is being born, living according to its own temporal and spatial laws, not ours and outside my consciousness.… And now you're puzzled by the question you often ask yourself: "What's going to happen tomorrow?"?? – Will there be this pain of yours tomorrow after the same acute attack, angina pectoris, which, as you have known for a long time, ends in 50 percent of cases, or even 75 percent of cases… You know everything well, and naturally today you still want to be in that other part of this statistical swing beyond your control, which allows you to communicate today, and worry so much, and create again and again today.… – And then will all these percentages of survivors of acute coronary pain syndrome (IHD) be important to me? I would have asked. – After all, then all my positive physical and energetic entropy accumulated over sixty years will slowly fade away and become equal to the world around me, changing in Time and Space, and all the supreme Divine creation that could only create great Time and infinite Space, and maybe even the Most High Jesus Christ himself, in what every day fewer and fewer people on Earth doubt, they will quietly and easily dissolve into the immeasurable and such boundless cosmic ether, maybe also fluctuating with their invisible rays, or maybe forever sileAfter all, then all my positive physical and energetic entropy accumulated over sixty years will slowly fade away and become equal to the world arounme, changing in Time and Space, and all the supreme Divine creation that could only create great Time and infinite Space, and maybe even the Most High Jesus Christ himself, in what every day fewer and fewer people on Earth doubt, they will quietly and easily dissolve into the immeasurable and such boundless cosmic ether, maybe also fluctuating with their invisible rays, or maybe forever silent, like many, many who lived before us. This one, my special physical entropy, will easily dissolve into the eternal cosmic silence and then there will be complete extraterrestrial silence, and that eternal silence is not subject to any earthly forces and is no longer subject to any earthly influences… – Does anyone on earth or my family or friends know what this eternal silence means, what this Cosmic silence means to all of us? – And does it exist if we can easily and quickly transition from one state of life to another, easily turning into those endless waves of ether that no one can feel? And what does this boundless Cosmic silence mean? Today, we are going to try together with you, dear reader, to understand this and our fragile earthly life, practically from nowhere and probably quite accidentally, arising, and also suddenly leaving, and so easily, quietly leaving this worlToday, we are going to try together with you, dear reader, to understand this and our fragile earthly life, practically from nowhere and probably quite accidentally, arising, and also suddenly leaving, and so easily, quietly leaving this world, but, nevertheless, leaving such an inconspicuous trace about It's only in our memory and in our children, whom only we could nurture, whom only we could always protect here on Earth, and so incredibly accidentally. Our Alexey Vayamretyl, after all, all his short life he professed the path of a real Japanese samurai – that true path of their warrior, and did not deviate from it to the brink. That's why, first of all, he was constantly fighting with himself, and probably with all of us who knew and remembered him well, and still remember him today. He wanted to be like them, like the great and courageous medieval Japanese samurai warriors, from the day he realized himself as a real person and remembered himself. He wanted his very recently born little son Alexander to know literally everything about samurai, and here I am, remembering his unusual desire for current life and in comparison with him, having complete freedom of choice in moving around the world, including material, one day, being once again on my own publishing in Moscow, too, and, at the same time in 2010, I went into some store somewhere in September, and it's truwanted his very recently born little son Alexander to know literally everything about samurai, and here I am, bering his unusual desire for current life and in comparison with him, having complete freedom of choice in moving around the world, including material, one day, being once again on my own publishing in Moscow, too, and, at the same time in 2010, I went into some store somewhere in September, and it's true, even the receipt of that store was preserved in the book, I was walking along the old Moscow alleys, I went into one of the Moscow shops somewhere in the center and, by chance, in an amazing semi-antique shop, I accidentally saw a beautiful, perfectly illustrated book by Thomas Lewis and Tommy Ito "Samurai: the Way of the Warrior" translated from English in 2008, Niola Press publishing house, and very quickly, glancing through a few pages, without hesitation, I decided to buy it. And surprisingly, our friend Alexey Vayam Disappeared at exactly the same time, theAnd surprisingly, our friend Alexey Vayam Disappeared at exactly the same time, there in northern Kamchatka, probably missing and no longer knowing how, he disappeared for all of us, only in his agonal unconsciousness he drank the remnants of the clean river water nilgykyn mymyl in the house, which no longer gave him those vital forces, nor that aquatic inspiration for life that he always had before… Now I understand that he left us all quite quietly, so far away, first to collect cedar shiksha in the distant Tilichik and that Kultush tundra, and then, very quietly, completely alone, since we are born, he left forever without disturbing anyone, and then he did not return, and he will never return, It's never been in this world of ours, and it's such a hectic world for him. And it's understandable, and it's so incredible, and it's so amazing that I, being literally nine thousand kilometers away from the place where those tragic events unfolded for all of us, which I want to tell everyone about, because I clearly realized that a man who is becoming And it's undersable, and it's so incredible, and it's so amazing that I, being literally nine thousand kilometers away from the place where those tragic events unfolded for all of us, which I want to tell everyone about, because I clearly realized that a man who is becoming in life, that his boyfriend, his son, is still growing up. Alexander, at the current age of 3, will be glad of such a gift, and when he grows up, he will quickly read and remember for a long time, and the text of my book is in memory of his father, and he will probably understand the true earthly purpose of his father's rather short life in the soul of his real Kamchatka samurai. And whether he will follow the path of a true, devoted and faithful samurai voluntarily, whether he will follow the path chosen by his loving father, or also on this great Kamchatka, great Russian land, he will repeat the path of his father easily, burning from the still unsatisfied passion of life and such unrequited love for young Mariam and his son. it is to him – his beloved, his first and his only Alexander. And it is symbolic that in history we know and remember the names Alexander the Great, Alexander SuvorAnd it is symbolic that in history we knowmember the nmes Alexander the Great, Alexander Suvorov…, my uncle Kaida Alexander … Yes, how many famous and not so famous, brave and cowardly, resourceful and brave Alex

But I understood that the album of lifetime photographs of his father, which I made in his memory, and this very small book dedicated to him, would probably be our best earthly monuments, which my best friend Daniel and I, who was still alive, could put up not only at the place of his cremation on the hill marked surveyors like the height of 444, but in his soul he is still such a small and perhaps not so bright son of Alexander. And again, we see in the three-digit number of the height of this ritual hill only three fours, all absorbing three fours, two of him and one of Daniel's friend, and they are so united here, since Daniel, sometime later, having separated from his body, will look down on all of us from there, as we are slowly carrying his younger friend on our shoulders, so that without thinking about anything earthly, we can easily betray him to the all-consuming flame of our fleeting earthly life on this bonfire of green cedar, symbolizing only our restless and earthly life.... But right now, we are anxiously caring and rejoicing about the fragile soul of his son Alexander, who still has so much to do and has to work hard, and so much to work in this changing world around us. After all, he still has to study and work hard for a long time, and after maturing and maturing, he must passionately love and suffer with us for his father. And after all, like his father, Alexey Vayamretyl needs, first of all, like that Japanese samurai, to learn to work hard and hard every day, to know our life in all its manifestations, to understand and perceive the whole world exactly as it is around us, without trying to accomplish what we earthly people it is impossible for us not to try to realize and achieve something that is somehow beyond our earthly human capabilities, probably long ago from our birth, determined for us by Providence itself, and maybe by the great Lord God. And only by following his eternal commandments, and only by working on your soul, can you achieve earthly, perhaps that special samurai enlightenment and awareness of your role and place on Earth. This is probably the only part of our earthly local Kamchatka life. It is only in overcoming oneself and one's weaknesses, one's laziness, one's bliss and one's unwillingness to move forward, and at the same time one's unwillingness to meet each other, that one's true love will manifest itself, and our local Kamchatka life is still so full.…

27.0

Alexey

Vayam

has

been

faithful

and

followed

in

his

actions

this

prescribed

samurai

code

of

conduct,

copied

on

paper

by him

.

"If someone serves officially, or lives at the court of the master , he should not think about hundreds and thousands of other people, he should only care about the welfare of his master. He should also not worry about his life line or anything else that seems valuable to him. Even if this gentleman turns out to be phlegmatic…" The samurai's 'reward ' will be the divine protection of the gods and buddhas." "Hagakure" by Yamamoto Tsunemoto (1659-1719). Indeed, Alexey Vayamretyl, throughout his still short life, was faithful and followed in his actions this prescribed code of conduct of the samurai, copied by him on paper. Once, in his eternal youthful fervor, he persistently and persistently explained to me that the entire code of the samurai is now well known to all of us as Bushido or the "Way of the Warrior" and he himself chose this path back then in his youth and, of course, will selflessly follow it now all the time. And could I, such a simple and yet mortal, resist his inner desire, clearly expressed by him, deeply realized by him, and suffered so much over the years? – Where did this idea come from in his young head? Neither his best friend Daniil, nor even the elder Alexander Yakovlevich, nor his brother Dimka knew. Probably, after all, something was infused into the ancient blood of his native mother, the indigenous branch of the Vietnamese Nymylanka, born from the ancient Koryak village of Branches, which was long ago founded by the deer Koryaks on the eponymous tributary of the Vyvenka River, something completely unknown to us by those ancient strong Japanese or even the Ainu, who are probably 40 thousand years old. Back during the glaciation, they easily reached these parts and left their warm blood in their ancient Koryak-Namylan genetics, which our Namylans then preserved in their fragile genetics., having given the entire vast local Kamchatka family of Vayamretylov, which was often translated by him as lying on the water (or maybe lying on their river Vetrovayam). Alexey Vayam told the elder Alexander Ugolev and his friend Danila often, especially when he was drinking, that the final rationalization of samurai views in Japan and their modern consciousness of Bushido and its greatest dogma were introduced not so long ago, just somewhere in the XVII century, when the samurai themselves began to perceive the ancient Confucian idea of superman and, serve as a living example for the lower classes. During the reign of the Tokugawa clan, Taira Shigesuke also wrote the book "Bushido Sosinshu" ("Instruction to a person entering the path of a warrior"), which later became a comprehensive set of rules of Bushido and the hopes placed on it. Like the book "Hukagure", it, as it is not surprising to us today, begins with that reflection on the same eternal, namely about natural death, that inevitable death, the onset of which all of us earthly people are often so afraid of and which Alexey himself passionately despised and was not at all afraid of. he and his older friend were probably radically different from each other, which is why it took so long, probably at first, to get to know Alexander Ugolev and slightly misunderstood each other. But because of this, they had neither the usual mutual resentments against each other, nor reasonable claims or even a real misunderstanding during their frequent communication. "Anyone who considers himself a warrior, first of all, should keep the thought of death in his head and think about it day and night… as long as you think about death all the time, you will be able to walk the path of devotion and fulfillment of obligations to your clan." "Hagakure" by Yamamoto Tsunemoto (1659-1719). This great awareness of our mortality by earthly people, especially in the soul of true samurai warriors, is seen as an incentive for good behavior, because reverence overcame laziness and even their lack of attention to each other. A samurai who has trained himself to live as if every day is his last day will never engage in useless arguments, indulge his unhealthy desires, neglect his duties, or cultivate a useless attraction to material possessions or maybe great comfort. This is exactly how we all remember our Alexei Vayamretyl. This is how his senior comrade Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev remembers him, although he himself equipped his business offices in Apuk and Tilichiki with the latest in household comfort, especially since this is an area of the Far North and even the northernmost Kamchatka Peninsula and the climate here is oh what not yet European and naturally not Sochi subtropical or even steppe Crimean. And we, because all his friends understood that, reflecting on death, he still lived next to his friend Alexander Ugolev, just like real samurai warriors.

Alexey lay there, without fear or regret, reflecting on his probable death, without naming its specific time, since he could not yet know it, at the same time, he always pushed himself to a full and such a rich earthly life. He always tried to take from her today the special maximum that all young people are capable of, who are in a hurry to live to the "fullest" and enjoy earthly life and indiscriminately taking from her all the best that they dreamed of in their childhood, or adolescence, and if such a thing had not happened in her If there was an unexpected high and steep cliff, and a turn that was not necessary for him, then his rich life would probably have been quite long, and it is possible that it would have been truly happy. And was he then happy himself so easily and so quietly, leaving us and with his last strength asking forgiveness only from his only and beloved Mariam, that probably also our biblical Mariam, who literally drove him crazy from the first day, at first sight, who was so loved by him and besides, how about her, he had never seen another woman in his life, and, importantly, he would not want to know them!? And I'm sure that at the last minute he was thinking about her, saying goodbye to her, realizing that they would never be like this together, like this next to each other, like this soul to soul, like this heart to heart… Only the last one written with a weak hand… sorry!!! During his lifetime, he was completely absorbed in her, he was captivated by her in a special way, like no other of his peers, and nothing, not even his inner, belligerent, and even truly samurai, could penetrate into their real relationship, into their earthly and fabulous love for just the two of them. And so, perhaps, when he left us forever, he also took with him practically his unquenchable earthly love for us and that real and sincere devotion of a young man who had not yet enjoyed in the least and was not at all tired of this love of his and their mutual love, who had not tasted it to us., her completely unknown charms and her real earthly joys, above all to her – to his Mariam, because he was constantly thinking about her, not to mention his fatherly pride and passionate fatherly love for his son Alexander, whom he adored so immensely, whom he waited a long time for his birth on February 9, 2009, and then, reverently adoring and truly fatherly loved immensely, without parting with him, even for a minute. – And was his Mariam, his adored Mariam, worthy of his purest, highest, inexhaustible, inexhaustible love, then and even now? – Did she betray him once, or maybe once, and already forever, when she decided to unite her burning passion with female flesh, maybe only once in bed with his older friend Daniel? And so, today, on January 22, 2012, after the day of the equinox and the real Epiphany frosts near Moscow, I am here, having arrived on a comfortable Mercedes bus from great and ancient Moscow, I stand alone with my completely uncovered gray head in the indescribably ancient Sergiev Posad, I stand at the coffin of our famous Sergius of Radonezh, I stand humbly, kneeling at his incorruptible ashes, probably preserved for us by his descendants by the will of the Lord God himself and Providence itself from that distant year 1645, preserved for earthly descendants to the present day, and after all, nothing, Neither universal Time, nor even infinite Space can separate us now.… And, neither in 1812, the French, nor in 1941, the fascists (the entire German horde) and the whole of Europe, who helped them and him, Hitler, could not crush his earthly peace here, his eternal earthly peace, and in all this, after all, the greatest sign of that endless Eternity of life itself on our Earth, a sign of constant faith in our eternal life and faith in our all–encompassing Christian religion, which divides our life into a visible part of it – here on earth and that part unknown to any of us mortals – an otherworldly one, about which we know nothing and we know nothing, but we sincerely hope that it exists and exists in the form of a ghostly fairy-tale prosperous paradise for the righteous themselves and a terrifying hell boiling with passions for the real all earthly sinners… To my great regret, Alexey Vayamretyl did only the first timid attempts and occasionally went with Alexander Ugolev to the Tilichik new church to put a candle there himself for the health and peace of all his relatives. And, the elder, fully understood him and at first did not strongly insist, did not force him, but persuaded him to believe for a long time, he expected that our Christian true Christian faith would awaken in his soul, and suddenly that our Great Russian people would lead to true progress and real development for many centuries, and he was an elder friend. I think I understood it then. And I understood! Well, Alexey Vayam could not have become so quickly here, after returning from Yelizovo boarding school, a real Orthodox Christian at heart, since in those years from 1984 to 2010, Christianity had not yet been fully revived on the Kamchatka Peninsula. Neither in Tilichiki itself, nor in the village of Khailino and in the same Branch, nor in the same Kultushino and Yelizovo, so that true and true Christianity, that inner faith in the Lord God, in his great providence, can so easily and quite simply reach each of us, so fragile and so mortal. – Although, who is he by blood?! I would have asked. – And who is he by blood? – Alexander Ugolev once asked himself, knowing the answer in advance, since he had thought about it more than once and clearly reflected on it. His own mother is a real Kamchatka Nymph, and his blood father? The father, as we learn further from Alexey, is a pure-blooded Russian, perhaps with that small mix of all the bloodlines, even those ancient freedom-loving and probably Polovskoy ancient Kievan bloodlines who lived in the steppe expanses between the shores of the Old Oskol and the stormy Seversky Donets, who often and quietly fed our Great Don, then carrying their waters to the Sea of Azov and the Black Sea, and only then, connecting with the waters of the great World ocean, they also returned to our long-suffering land in the form of summer life-giving rain, turning into ear-shaped fields filled with the power of wheat., there in my native Belgorod region and Kharkiv region, and walking like a wave of red anadromous fish, called by eternal homming into the local Kamchatka rivers from the life-giving depths of such an immense and mysterious local Ocean that stretches thousands of kilometers to the north, east and south of the Pacific Ocean. So, who is Alexey Vayamretyl here?!?! Who is he, except that in translation he means, as lying on the Water, pure water –nilgykyn mymyl? Who is he lying on this so fast Water or on the great River – Branches!? In his soul, he is the true ancient Japanese samurai and also a real and brave warrior, but in life he is a true man of God and a faithful, devoted, immensely loving husband, and in the family he is a completely rebellious younger pampered son and at the same time such a caring father, and in his mind, in his soul – such a trembling, loving and caring soul, and not only for her, for his beloved Mariam, his divine and deified Mariam, but also, of course, he was worried about his little son Alexander, while worrying about the fate of his daughter Diana, not knowing what to do with all of us, his many friends, who may often have been not quite fair to him, not quite friendly to him and his endeavors, and sometimes even more strict to his mistakes and life blunders… Oh, he lived fast and dreamed of always being a true warrior and completely faithful to the ancient teachings of the Japanese samurai, which he learned perfectly literally from childhood, literally from the first books that he knew how to get and read about his beloved samurai. After all, Alexey Vayamretyl collected everything about his beloved samurai from an early age. Wherever fate threw him: to a boarding school in Khailino, or maybe to a boarding school in Palansky, or to the city of Yelizovo itself, he always had a rather heavy folder with photos in his backpack, as well as newspaper clippings and calligraphic extracts from many books that he had previously read about Japanese samurai.. He collected these clippings for a long time in every library where fate threw him, he often leafed through them, admiring the oriental purity of their uncluttered thoughts, the courage of the actions of those ancient Japanese warriors, and he wanted to be just as courageous, just as pure in thought and yet completely infallible in all his earthly actions. And, he followed them all his twenty-five-year life, so that one day he would say, and in not clearly written, still retaining such an unreadable caligraphy of his handwriting, on that very small and random piece of paper that we hold in our trembling hands today.:

"Mariam… (or maybe mom, since the letters are heavily blurred), I think I'm dying.., I'm sorry.. for what happened!!! Take care of my son Al…cs.. ra___" And then the devil or arrow, no strength, no ability, no movement, no writing, like those prisoners of Mauthausen, who had not been fed or even watered for a month or two.. Then the silence and utter silence of his eternity… And then there is their special funeral pyre at an altitude of 444 not far from the Tilichiki regional center, at the height from which the hills of his Branches are visible, visible on the hillock of his promised land, which could calmly feed and protect him, and such a rapid ascension of his trembling soul somewhere far away, literally to the very high heavens To all their top people… And, what else did he want and could not say with those indistinctly written dots or even a sweeping dash at the end? And then… And then, for him, a real and present eternity has come!!!… That, for others, is a hopeless eternity, into which we, regardless of wealth or poverty, rank or place in our envious society, will soon all sink, regardless of our own desires and preferences learned over a long life, or our maybe conscious choice, as the process of our dying and none of us can influence death itself, no one can delay its inevitable arrival, if he had seven spans in his forehead. For him, then, at his last ritual bonfire, his eternal rest and the calm of his restless, and still trembling soul came! … And all his earthly worries, all that worried him so much, are now nothing. Everything is rotten now!!!…Now it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter what he was so worried about yesterday!!! – Who doesn't care? "For him or for us?" He lived by it, it was his being, and he naturally could not have done otherwise, just as samurai never deviate from their principles and only real hara-kiri can sum up, only masculine and courageous hara-kiri shows his real strength and your real conviction, and strong faith. And this is his special hara-kiri, because it is above all our gossip, above all our worries and contempt for him or his ambiguous and such a busy life… And that's all, his highest inner samurai principles, all his such warlike intentions, all his awe of true devotion to his friends, as he thought, or rather comrades, or even more correctly fellow travelers on his short path. "Where are they now?" …

2

8

.0.

How

do

we

all

live

today?

And

is

there

a

geophysical

and

special

modern

psychotronic

weapon

aimed

specifically

at

us?

And

also,

what

is the

true

role

of

genetically

modified

foods

in

our

lives

today?

On February 28, 2011, before departing from Moscow Domodedovo Airport, Alexander Yakovlevich Uglev, in his now reconstructed and spacious passenger storage device, went to a kiosk and literally accidentally bought Computer Bild lying on a bookshelf along with other glossy magazines Behind the Wheel, Moto, and for some reason automatically took it. Next to it, the not-so-glossy, but often interesting for him magazine "Science and Religion" No. 3 for 2011, and just as mechanically as everything I did today, I opened it immediately on page 42., where was the article published by Eduard Gevorgyan "Birds-2" not according to Hitchcock," where the author recalls the plot of the film "Birds" based on the classic thriller by Alfred Hitchcock, which he shot back in 1963, when Ugolev was only 13 years old and when his family and beloved Savinets were falling asleep black snow and dust storms in January and February… And, after all, only then did he read, he compared everything from what had accumulated in his head and it turned out that these were those Beriev, Kurchatov, Sakharov and Kharitonov tests in the open air, far from the present today, in those infinitely endless Volga, or now Kazakh, or maybe Semipalantine steppes of the latest atomic weapons, then there were tests of the weapons of our current retribution, the weapons of our peaceful deterrence, and how much then on his young head, which was not yet clouded or covered by anything, how many millions of Curies fell on our Kharkov and all Non-Chernozem fertile land, or how many modern Becquerels fell in 1963, or how many dangerous Grays he was still young, because of his natural simplicity and spontaneity, and he knew nothing, and he knew nothing, even though he tried to read, and physical books And of course he loved chemistry at school. And then, on April 26, 1996, Chernobyl ashes spread over his native Ukraine and no less his native Russia, the blown-up reactor, adding to their lives so many of their Curies and Becquerels, and how many active lives he took, how much he took away that radioactive wind of native lives, our lives. He did not know then in 1963, because of his youth and immaturity, and about the probabilistic stochastic effect of that very latent radiation on our human body, and about its similar effect of radiation in various forms on the organisms of other terrestrial mammals.

29.0.

Hitchcock

himself

said

that

the

idea

for the

film

came

to

his

mind

when

he

learned

about

the

fall

of

gray

petrels

on

one

of

the

cities

of

California

in

1961.

And here is Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev, holding a thin magazine made of fairly simple paper in his hands and comfortably sitting in an armchair by the largest window to see at the same time these steel, modern duralumin, or the most modern of 35% composite materials, these fascinating your imagination, flying birds, beautiful different and colorful planes. And the American Boeing 777-300, and also the Russian IL-86 and IL-96, and TU-134, and also their European A-310, and he was so bursting in his soul, he so admired the power of thought of the man himself, who could first conceive all this, design on paper and on slide rules all that calculate it, and only then with your own hands, and do more, and launch it into a series. Looking out the window, he admired the achievements of modern civilization just now, and now he himself often and constantly enjoyed all its benefits, and he also thought about such a simple man who disappeared somewhere far away in the tundra, there in Kamchatka, about a man he loved Alexei Vayamretyl. He often thought about his place in it and about the influence of this same modern civilization on him, on all of us, and on that one and only specific little, and such a puny little man, who was oh so difficult, it was oh so hard, who was sick, and also suffered, and also at the same time indignant. unable to find a way out of his indignation, and even an unconscious protest at the pressure of all this surrounding civilization on him, on his family, on his brother, on his children and on himself. And his eyes, tenacious to information, even ran past his desire along the lines of the magazine: "… The plot of Birds, filmed in 1963, was not pure fiction by the author. Hitchcock himself said that the idea for the film came to his mind when he learned about the fall of gray petrels on one of the cities of California in 1961. Birds crashed against windows and walls, and even attacked passersby. This case was then explained that the birds had somehow been poisoned by some kind of non-fresh shellfish, that is, as if everything had happened at the household level. What's been happening to birds lately, a master like Hitchcock could create a whole horror series. After reviewing the archives, it turned out that in December 2010, several thousand blackbirds fell to the ground in Arkansas, and then it turned out to be American orioles, and earlier on January 5, 2007, a thousand owls died immediately in the American state of Aihado. At that time, they explained this by saying that the birds had descended too low during the night hunt, collided with cars and died. The absurdity of the explanation was obvious. On January 8 of the same year, a similar bird "rain" took place over the Texas city of Austin – birds of three different species fell, which, unlike owls, did not lead a nocturnal lifestyle, that is, the version of a collision with cars did not work. And scientists were getting closer and closer to realizing the role and place of the new geophysical weapon, recalling the long-standing experiments of the American physicist Tesla. At first glance, the "electromagnetic" version of what is happening in the reality of bird deaths seems quite likely. It's not for nothing that meteorologists often warn us about geomagnetic disturbances that affect our well-being. A directed powerful electromagnetic shock can temporarily disable even a person, not like such small living creatures as birds. – What can I say about birds? Ugolev thought. But it is unlikely that the unfortunate birds were hit by any secret prototype of cinematic weapons, although tests of various types of such weapons have been going on for the last twenty years, and their purpose is not only the on-board electronics of these aircraft, but also the people themselves, the same pilots, and of course not only civilians, but above all the military. So, what is it – from time to time, secret satellites are being targeted at different points with a kind of "electromagnetic laser" or "maser"? But scientists from other countries would have already discovered it, and they would have known about it. And they believe that such weapons are energy-intensive and can only be used from the ground. The Americans have long built the HAARP (High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program) in Alaska in 1997, according to the official goals for the study of the northern Lights, which is a huge complex of 180 large antennas and 360 radio transmitters on an area of more than 13 hectares. At the same time, as they explain to us, these terrestrial antennas can focus radiation on different parts of our ionosphere and can even warm it up to a certain extent. HAARP is usually compared to a household microwave oven, which can create high-temperature plasma anywhere in the world. Conspiracy theorists have called this new weapon a climate weapon. They are absolutely sure that with its help, Americans can cause floods, earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts, fires, disable military and civilian radars… And it can affect not only the climate, but also the people themselves, you and me, him, my brother, It's psychotronic on my son and even on my grandson.

If we discard all the conspiracy redundancy, then today we are talking about the most powerful radiator on Earth, which in the range of 10 megahertz exceeds the power of natural solar radiation in the same wavelength range by almost millions of times! (Just think about the sheer off-the-ground power of these transmitters a million times!). – What can actually be done with such a powerful "stove" in reality, it's hard to say for sure? Ugolev pondered. But it's unlikely that Americans who are prudent and thrifty in everything will use such an expensive cannon, who don't give a damn about other nations, other lives, so that they can only shoot at sparrows – now in the literal sense of the word. And, our very Sun, which gives life on Earth, did not shine so much for our life and our existence, and it was so harmless, the influence of which was studied for a long time and productively by the Russian and Soviet scientist Alexander Chizhevsky, whose works somehow passed by Alexander Ugolev's attention when he studied at the institute, although a couple of times his statistics and he held it in his hands, but then somehow he didn't concentrate properly, or maybe because it was difficult for him to influence that information. Now, returning to the present, it is worth remembering the eclipse on July 22, 2009, when a strong solar storm began at the moment when the Moon's disk blocked the Sun as much as possible. ....And on the same day Alexey Vayamretyl got into the bullpen once again.... …At the same time, scientists did not expect such an outburst, since at that time the Sun was seemingly in a completely calm state, there were no precursors of spots or active zones on its surface, and there were no flares or large prominences, harbingers of its magnetic disturbances.… However, sometimes such storms occur when passing through the so-called section of the interplanetary magnetic field. The magnetosphere of our planet is in some kind of equilibrium with the magnetosphere of the Sun, and if the solar field weakens, then the Earth's field compensates by inflating, so that a new equilibrium boundary between them is established. Minor fluctuations for this reason occur almost every two weeks – during this time our star and its magnetic fields make half a revolution around its axis. But this is not accompanied by strong magnetic storms. And by the time of that memorable eclipse on July 22, 2009, our planet had already passed the "dividing line" two days ago and without any magnetic shocks. The cause of the powerful storm, which lasted nine hours, remains unknown today. Scientists have tried to blame our moon, but our satellite does not have its own magnetic field and is unable to somehow influence these global planetary processes. And, scientists have noticed that the oddities of our Sun, no matter how long they do not study it, only accumulate as they accumulate knowledge about it, at least the gloomy forecast of the Dutch astrophysicist Dr. Piers Van der Meer did not come true. In 2002, this expert from the European Space Agency stated that, apparently, our star is about to explode. He claimed that the temperature of the Sun's core is usually about 27 million degrees, and in recent years it has risen to almost 50 million degrees. In other words, the process of warming up the Sun resembles the processes in stars that occur before a Supernova explosion. And global warming, from Van der Meer's point of view, is not related to the greenhouse effect on the Earth itself, but to the warming of the Sun. And if the temperature of the sun's interior increases at such a pace, the process will become irreversible: in six years, the Sun will explode and destroy not only human civilization, but also all the planets of the Solar system. Almost 10 years have passed since this statement by Dr. Meer and his colleagues. The sun behaves as long as it is calm for us. True, strange spots appear on it from time to time, but modern astrophysics and terrestrial physics cannot explain them scientifically for us and unambiguously interpret them, since there is still no such modern mathematical apparatus that would allow them to do this today, and I think that the subsequent development of physics itself, astrophysics and modern computing technology and mathematical methods will in no way allow this to be done in principle, since it will all be prohibited by those unshakable philosophical laws that have never been subject to us., which do not allow this to be done even in principle, and it will certainly confirm what was predicted long ago, said by a brilliant Russian physicist and theorist, and also by a real practitioner who mastered the power of the nucleus easily in an atomic bomb, splitting it by Andrei Sakharov, that our future is not a definite category. And now, it seemed to Alexander Ugolev that when Alexey Vayamretyl studied at Yelizovo Vocational School, after all, those numerous and huge antenna fields of Yelizovo airport and new military radars, as well as the ultramodern Kamchatka satellite tracking station in the village of Pogranichny were not so far away, she worked there every day and carried out the necessary telemetry measurements. giving the necessary commands, not to mention the very heart of the Vilyuchinsk submarine fleet, where the nuclear shield and the Russian submarine fleet are concentrated on its Far Eastern borders. And all the residents of the Yelizovsky region were naturally exposed to man-made electromagnetic radiation of different parameters and frequency, and how and on whom it could affect them during their stay there. And who is actually mentally and physically resistant to it today, not a single theoretical physicist, not a single modern biophysicist, not even the best neurophysiologist, even if a Nobel Laureate, can reliably say, since we do not know their very frequencies and those time intervals of their active action, or even their There are no directional vectors of the rays themselves, nor any other parameters necessary or essential for our life, for our psyche.

And are there any special sensors or antennas and sensors in our body that are capable of receiving all this special high-frequency radiation or converting it into our subsequent actions? Maybe our whole body is the resonating substrate that is able to perceive these unknown radiations. Or maybe these are our coiled chromosomes, like sensitive antennae unwinding their thread, or maybe they are just elementary proteins of our blood and even tissues, or maybe they are matrix, informational transcription and other transport, informational RNAs, or they are fibers of those long neurons or very short processes of cells of the astroglial system of the brain, which themselves support And do they isolate all these neurons in our brain? Has anyone already studied this? – Is all this reliable and proven by someone today? Today, we can only take an electroencephalogram with primitive sensors from our scalp, we can register myograms from the contraction of a single or group of muscles, or we register on paper the same electrocardiogram from our now often aching heart, but we can accurately and reliably tell about the influence of the same television signals on us or To date, no scientist has answered this question reliably and scientifically based on various radio transmitters, including home ones, or even simple ones that are worn every day on the body of cell phones. Yes, we know and feel that being under high-voltage wires of 100, or even all 500 thousand volts, the hair on the head seems to stand on end, and we know that microwave rays are able to heat up our tissues, giving obvious and tangible physical thermal effects at the level of our tissues. It has also been proven that laser intravenous blood irradiation can activate our weakened immune system in small doses, and in large doses, and in excess doses, either by shortening the distance or increasing the time exposure, and lead to the destruction of cells and tissues themselves, and are even able to cut them like a sharp scalpel blade, easily to everyone on their own ways of vaporizing those of our tissues!!!… All these aspects require not only study, but also observation and scientific analysis!!!… And not only the medical professionals themselves, but also physicists, neuroscientists, psychophysiologists, and many others who study the human being as an individual.…

30.0

His

student

experiments

with

simple

bulbs

(with

sprouting

onions).

And, Alexander Ugolev recalled his student experiments with simple bulbs (with sprouting onions), when, without modern sensors, effective modern sensors or detectors of various types of physical rays, he and his physiology teacher put them in the Department of Biophysics at the Kharkov Medical Institute in an experiment simply by placing a slightly sprouted bulb on the left and an absolutely dry one on the right. and intact, and by pointing their heads at each other. And in another, similar experiment, a lead plate was placed between them, and in the third – the same, but steel, and in the fourth – just ordinary glass. And it turned out that, without any obstacle, the dry onion immediately began to grow, even without wetting it with water, since it received special information from that living sprout at a short distance, ultraviolet radiation, which easily stimulated the growth processes in the cells of its neighbor and passed even through thin plexiglass, and did not pass through steel and thick lead, where there was no movement towards growth from the intact bulb, since ultraviolet light cannot pass these barriers and thus the cells, without receiving an information signal from the growing cells, they did not respond to all other stable constants and experimental conditions. And so, on such a simple biosensor as a bulb sprout, they then easily proved with the teacher that a living, developing tissue has a special and directed ultraviolet radiation to other tissues, albeit not so strong, which is felt by other cells, and even triggers the same biosynthetic processes that occur in it. by myself. But what are the mechanisms of the influence of this radiation, what and how does it perceive them in the cell itself? Of course, you will not sunbathe on this radiation, since its power is negligible. But there is a biological effect and it is clearly visible!!! And that effect was there!!! And then he and his teacher repeated and proved the existence of such an information system in biological cells, and moreover not today, but quite a long time ago in the seventies of the last century, back at the medical school in his native Kharkov!!! Yes, after all, we also haven't seen the same widely used X-rays before. Yes, both gamma, alpha and beta radiation were unknown to us for a long time, and the radio beams themselves, before the experiments of our talented compatriot Popov, which are known to everyone today, were something hidden, something special, and something unknown to humanity.... Yes, and now this small and elusive neutrino, until we built special sensors and special hydrogen sensors deep in the mines, was unknown to us… And he remembered the X-ray research when it was just the dawn of radiation research… And he also remembered the Mayor's Office of Sklodowska-Curie, who with her husband Joliot Curie studied radioactive radium and its then unknown rays.... And I also remembered reading about Igor Kurchatov's first experiments on radiation luminescence, in which he proved the presence of nuclear decay of radium back in 1927-1932.…

31

.0.

And

there

is

also

a

chemical

theory

of

bird

death

and

even

the

influence

of

modern

biological

weapons

.…

In addition, in the article he read fluently, another one was considered, i.e. the chemical theory of bird death and even the influence of modern biological weapons.… Scientists are still inclined to believe that the death of birds is "chemical" in nature and not only civilizational, for example, the disaster of the oil platform in the Gulf of Mexico, but also global, i.e. terrestrial in nature. So let's remember that our birds are descendants of dinosaurs. Moreover, poisons that act on birds are not always fatal to mammals and other terrestrial animals. So, if the asteroid that fell on our Earth then and destroyed millions of years ago, caused not only their instant death, but also poisoned the earth for a long time with some particularly harmful compounds. And nowadays, when volcanic activity is periodically activated, there is a release of many unknown components from the depths of the earth, literally from its very core. Even in small quantities, no matter what trickle brought by a distant wind is enough for a flock of small orioles. Or the same melting Antarctic ice refreshes ancient microorganisms from the ice cover, dangerous for the crushed descendants of the ancient hosts of our planet. After all, we remember how in the old days the miners took canaries into the slaughter. If a bird suddenly dropped dead, it means there's a gas leak in the mine and you have to drop everything and run upstairs. And, he asked himself a question: – And where should we all run from this American HAARP of theirs? – Where should our so unprotected, so young Alexei Vayamretyl run from HAARP radiation, to which he was so sensitive by nature, when he does not even know where this HAARP stands today. What continent is it located on? … And not because he doesn't read popular science literature or is so inquisitive and not interested in science itself.… Simply by the style of his life, by his life priorities here in Kamchatka, by that special determination of his, he cannot think about, or even dream about, what he absolutely does not know and does not feel, what he does not understand at all, what he has not experienced before, and in general, as if he did not I've felt it all in my short lifetime… It's all external, outside of his Kamchatka nature., outside of him, the offspring of the Kamchatka branch of the Vietnamese nature maturing in his body and that devoted to the master of the real Kamchatka samurai, and a real young man, and a man who matures annually…

32

.0.

The

strongest

American

radiator

in

Alaska.

…. Alexander Ugolev took his small flash card out of his pocket, easily inserted it into the connector pin of his Dell-Inspiron laptop, then connected the newly purchased Megafon Internet set-top box and tried to type HAARP on the keyboard to learn more, to see the load of their power consumption in recent years by day and by month, and even by the hours of the day, in order to understand the specific dates and days of his effective or maximum work and load, and also how, and the biophysicist Chizhevsky himself, to add up those special, to others, there may be nothing saying diagrams and graphs on our Kamchatka calendar of life, on the calendar of our daily Kamchatka daily life....

3

3

.0.

And

the

boarding

of

his

plane,

departing

for

his

native

Kamchatka

, has

already

been

announced.

… Before he could turn on his laptop, they announced boarding of another plane and the exit 52 indicators lit up. – Flight D117 on the route Moscow-Domodedovo to the city of Kamchatka is announced, the time was 17-10 for March 05, 2011, semi-mechanical, probably computer, but quite pleasant and confident A female voice announced the boarding of their next flight. Everyone in the storage room began to move gradually, lining up to board the plane, and naturally he had to press the stop search button and pack his laptop into a travel bag to head to that huge Boeing 777-300, which in just eight hours would take him almost 9 thousand kilometers from here, so that he could overcome and he will literally move in space for centuries today, since two and a half centuries ago. Bering and Stepan Krasheninnikov traveled the same distance along the roads of Siberia for more than one year, and now you understand how this entire earthly space has shrunk for the man himself over these two and a half centuries. What yesterday required heroism and incredible efforts, today is often solved by pressing a button on your laptop computer and using an incredible device, a portable communicator. You are on the Internet, you are on this world Wide Web, which gives you access to the whole world from anywhere… And not every head today can accommodate it, everything it's palpable and so easy to digest, and to adapt to such a rapid passage of Time and the compression of our very Space.… And, probably, Alexander Ugolev sometimes wants, even in his thoughts, to return to that stone age, or even to the cave age, in order to truly feel like the simplest earthly person, in order to feel the real pleasure of earthly life, from possession, in order to get the satisfaction that primitive man received from successful hunting. from the birth of the heirs, when he saw for himself how a new life without any philosophizing would be repeated one-on-one, in order to grow up to become that truly devoted samurai master, who faithfully serves his master far away in Japan and thinks of nothing else.…

3

4

.0.

Why

are

even

bees

dying

in

the

Russian

Far

East

,

and

why are we doing

all

this?

And light, having entered the cabin of a spacious European A-310, sitting in a soft business class chair, Alexander Ugolev could no longer turn on his non-replaceable laptop and continue his search on the Internet according to the strict rules of this flight, and he decided to finish reading an article in a magazine about bees that interested him.: "In the Far East of the Russian Federation, the number of bee colonies has decreased over the past 10 years by almost 10 times from 334.5 thousand families in 1992 to 66.4 thousand families in 1999. According to the accounting results, only in Primorsky Krai, which used to be famous for its honey. In total, there were 3,457,500 bee colonies in Russia in 1999. Amateur beekeepers maintain up to 83% of bee colonies, 15% are occupied by public sector farms and only 2% are peasant farms. In this regard, Russia currently consumes 7 times less honey than in developed foreign countries in Europe, Australia, and the United States, where its consumption reaches 3.0 – 3.2 kg per year per inhabitant. Beekeepers have long noticed that honey, propolis, bee's milk, pollen, parchment, wax, and bee venom have, in addition to their energetic effect due to the natural carbohydrates of fructose and glucose, an incredible therapeutic effect. In Russia, they have been engaged in bee management for a long time and noticed that after multiple bee stings and after the development of the initial tumor at the bite site and local soreness, some nervous and skin diseases go away earlier that cannot be treated by other means." And he thought about it: – But there were no bees in Kamchatka in the XVII-XIX centuries. After the development of aviation and the simplification of bee package delivery methods, enthusiasts appeared trying to introduce beekeeping on the peninsula, and traditional healers had the opportunity to use not only imported but also locally obtained bee products. This industry on the Kamchatka Peninsula is still young, it is not even 10 years old. Attempts to import bees to the Kamchatka Peninsula were made by amateur beekeepers in the forties, but they did not have a significant impact on the Kamchatka economic complex, although the Petropavlovsk Kamchatsky regional center is located at the latitude of Kharkov, Kiev, Lviv, where beekeeping is practiced and intensively developing. Beekeepers have long noticed that Kamchatka still has pristine nature, a lot of different grasses, pesticides and pesticides have almost never been used before, there is no long-standing radioactive pollution of the environment, and there are few thermal power plants. Bees can collect and find abundant nectar carriers and pollen carriers, and there are enough of them to survive the long and harsher winter here than in more southern regions. But until the end of the seventies of the last millennium, there were practically no amateur beekeepers on the peninsula. The more intensive settlement of the peninsula by bees began in 1987, when Carpathian bees were brought from Omsk, they successfully withstood the first wintering and showed good harvests of honey and other bee products (pollen, wax, bee milk, bee venom) for the region. Bees are kept mainly in the south of the peninsula and in its central part in the Yelizovo area and near Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky in the Apache River area. And already in 1993, the first Elena bee nursery with 26 families was opened in Yelizovsky district. As of 2001, there are 280 bee colonies in Kamchatka with more than 50 amateur beekeepers, another 90 bee families are kept on farms and 5 on agricultural enterprises. With the development of beekeeping, it has become possible to introduce, in addition to such a method of therapy as honey therapy, other methods of apitherapy, which have long been widely used in other regions of the Russian Federation and in the world as a whole. One of the most significant and widespread natural medicinal products in the world are bee products – honey, propolis, royal jelly, pollen (perga), wax, bee venom. Their medicinal properties have been known since ancient times. Already 5-7 thousand years ago, honey, propolis, and bee fertilizers were used in India and China for apitherapy, the treatment of people with bee products (apis – bee). The mention of the treatment with honey and honey bee preparations has come down to our days in the Ebers papyrus "Book of preparation of medicines for all parts of the body", which was written according to historians more than 3.5 millennia ago. This book can be considered the first surviving guide to apitherapy. It describes in detail and recommends the use of honey, wax, propolis against many human diseases both for use and in cosmetology. There is also mention of this method and method of treatment in the writings of famous ancient doctors Hippocrates, Galen, Avicenna. It should be noted that Russia, which has been developing beekeeping since ancient times, for the first time in the world began to conduct scientific research on the therapeutic effects of various varieties of honey, royal jelly, bee venom, propolis, and drone brood. Unfortunately, despite the undisputed leadership in research in this area and the practically inexhaustible possibilities of technological production of biologically active bee products, our country today has lagged far behind foreign countries in terms of harvesting and introducing these products into medical practice. Today, the domestic pharmaceutical market has only 10 dosage forms containing bee preparations and products, but more than a hundred have been developed in countries such as France, Italy, China, Japan, and Spain. In neighboring China, 800 tons were harvested and produced in 2000 (!!!) royal jelly, and in Russia – less than 10 tons, i.e. 80 times less. For example, today the Russian pharmaceutical market is flooded with such a drug as "HUATO BOLUSES" from China, which includes natural honey, activated charcoal and several medicinal herbs. Our pharmaceutical factories could produce such a composition, or even better, and fully satisfy the domestic market, preventing competitors from entering the market and creating jobs for their citizens.

Honey is widely used in Korean folk and scientific medicine to make honey medicine balls with medicinal herbs, it hides an unpleasant taste and is itself a therapeutic factor. Bee products have a wide variety of applications and have effects such as antimicrobial properties, immunostimulating, anti-inflammatory, anesthetic, radioprotective. It is the presence of such effects that is responsible for the high effectiveness of their use in neuropsychiatric, cardiovascular, gastrointestinal, liver and kidney diseases, lung diseases, and rheumatism. At the same time, taking into account the natural nature of these products, as a rule, there are no serious harmful effects. Bee products normalize the metabolism in the human body, stimulate blood circulation, enhance the protective functions of the body, accelerate the physical and mental development of children. And he returned from his laptop to the page in the journal Science and Religion.: "… Along with the death of birds all over the world, there is another inexplicable phenomenon – entire colonies of bees are dying out en masse. Probably the most ancient inhabitants of the earth who saw those dinosaurs and saw how man himself became a man. In 2009 alone, 60 percent of families in the United States died, and 70 percent in Europe. With such losses, European beekeeping may disappear completely within the next ten years. And the causes of the so-called "collapse of bee colonies" have not yet been clarified either by veterinarians or entomologists. And similar processes are taking place even far away 10,000 km from Europe, in the Russian Far East, which indicates some kind of global component and the globality of this problem itself.… Albert Einstein once said in a private conversation that if all the bees on Earth die, then in four years humanity itself will disappear. To some, such a forecast may seem exaggerated, but the consequences of such a catastrophe are obvious: the death of bees will lead to an inevitable reduction in many types of food and a strong increase in prices for them, socio-economic and environmental disasters.… All countries of the world are sending billions of dollars to investigate the causes of what is happening today, but the matter has not yet gone beyond hypotheses. In 2008, employees of research institutes in France, Belgium and England prepared a report to their governments, in which they indicated the factors of bee population decline: 29 biological agents (among them: parasites, fungi, bacteria, viruses), chemical agents, as well as uncontrolled changes in our environment, often associated and caused by non- So much is due to global space circumstances, but more to human activity, and the same thermal power plants that lead to heavy acid rain in summer, when both plants and insects themselves cannot withstand it., and the emissions of modern transport, and many other things that a modern person probably hasn't realized yet. It is very likely that a new generation of insecticides has become one of the causes of bee deaths. – neoniconoids (and let's remember thousands and tens of thousands more tons of agent orange, which was poured in thousands of tons into the jungles of long-suffering Vietnam in the 50s, and modern dioxins from numerous man-made landfills burning around the world, and the well-known and now banned DDT, which is through fish and fats of marine animals, seals and whales it got into our body in the 50s and 60s, as well as various modern defoliants that are mercilessly used on sunflower, cotton and many other so-called "technical" crops). It is clear that their substances are toxic not only to our beloved little bees. They accumulate in the insect's body and disrupt its ability to remember, learn, and even their very existence as God's creatures. Once out of the hive, the poisoned bee will not come back. So is our young hero, Alexei Vayamretyl, he left the house once, he left the village of Tilichiki and he went nowhere. And he's probably gone forever… Having left us forever, Alexander Ugolev is now unequivocally sure of this, having experienced this irreparable loss… Ugolev A.Ya. still somewhere in the depths of his soul, until the police found the boy, he believed that he was alive, that his young friend would return. He believed that he could easily cope with all the difficulties of life, as before, and somewhere he was carefree traveling with the Khailin reindeer herders, or even resting with girls in the same Achaivayam, or even with friends in Manila, or even in Slautny or Talovka, far from here from the Pacific coast, or maybe even he was brought to the fabulous Anadyr Chukchi. He's such a young guy, quite energetic, and so brave, because he's a real samurai devoted to his master. Another danger for all of us and the ancient bee insects themselves are genetically modified (GM) crops, unknown to us before, new proteins produced by them, which are dangerous to the bee organism itself. Data on their harmful effects on pollinators were published in the United States back in the mid-90s, but since then this problem has never been raised to the proper level by the knowledgeable scientific community. And who will give dollar grants for such research? In other words, the problem was hushed up by everyone. This version is indirectly confirmed by similar cases in other countries. It is possible that the beekeepers themselves are to blame, who for several decades have interfered with the delicate age-old processes of natural selection, giving preference to bees with higher productivity rather than with greater resistance to diseases and greater life potential.

That's probably how our Kamchatka school and boarding schools, which exist in every national village, like those incubators over the decades, raised Kamchatka's special new human tribe, completely unsuited to real life, completely emasculated, from the generation of young people of the 70s-80s-90s. like those Chinese palace devotees, but previously castrated eunuchs. Over these three decades, that special boarding school young tribe has grown up, which, outside the four boarding school walls, is no longer able to feed itself, is no longer able to defend itself against the very life here, and, most importantly, that generation is no longer able to withstand all those global challenges that we know and do not know, which life itself is always harsh to us. He puts them here. Because, in fact, boarding school itself deprives a person of the most important thing – it deprives him of his family, it deprives him of a special, irreplaceable social environment and at the same time deprives them of that special family aura that no one has yet learned to recreate in other conditions. The boarding school itself, as a special institution, deprives a growing person here in Kamchatka, be it a girl or a boy, of a special, dear, kindred environment, deprives the natural historical continuity of several generations, when the youngest always respects the elder, and the elder at the same time takes care of the younger, and this does not depend on their real calendar age, as well as the brother He takes care of his brother, and his brother also takes care of his sister from a very young age, as he realizes that someone else needs his help, and vice versa, and the son worries about his mother, and she trembles about her son immensely at night., like the high-flying turtle dove herself, like the most evil bear, she takes care of her cubs growing up on her life-giving milk. And, as this anadromous red fish, having entered our Kamchatka rivers, it takes care of its red caviar laid by the female, protecting it from both the goldfish and the nimble chariton. The modern Kamchatka boarding school deprives children of the natural historical family continuity for which our Great and ancient Russia was famous, as only in the succession of generations, a grandmother simultaneously teaches both her daughter and her granddaughter, and a grandfather instructs both his son and grandson, or even his growing great-grandson, who can only become On your weak legs… It is only in the true succession of generations that an immeasurable strong man, a steady man, a courageous man, and a devoted man to his family are born here in Kamchatka and throughout Russia.… A modern Kamchatka boarding school cannot raise a real family man, a real caring father, a devoted and faithful granddaughter, daughter, and even a faithful wife outside the home, outside the true field of the family… And now, reading and thinking about bees, and thinking about their problems, about their breeding, Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev realized that those modern boarding schools on the Kamchatka Peninsula easily and literally uprooted children from their habitual environment, just like the roots of trees, which, no matter what kind of fertilized soil they were in. they do not want to take root outside their natural soil, even if it seems to us to be poor, their special kindred environment… He remembered this well from that Savinsky pine tree, as a schoolboy, he tore out of Dovgalevka with a root from his native and, as it were, not fertile sand for ourselves and then tried to plant it on the probably fertile, probably fatty Savinsky chernozem up to a meter deep, and that young pine, not wanting to grow in such a the greasy soil just withered and withered in his first school experience, but the pear and apple trees, planted next to him with one hand and watered at the same time, even with the roots cut off after four and five years and easily, took root, giving new growth to their roots, and they also gave good shoots, and even the first delicious fruits. And, from somewhere in the depths of his consciousness, he has now figured out, now he has found out that it is the fertile family "soil" that is the basis for everything in our lives. It is our human "roots" that must be so carefully fertilized, so carefully rooted, so that your family, even if it is poor, even if it is not completely flavored, so that you can give yourself a truly ripe and juicy ripe fruit. And now he clearly realized, literally felt with his skin, what he really wanted to write about, starting first as an essay, as a novel, and then as a multi-page novel about Alexei Vayamretyl, about his younger friend and about such a loyal, but also incredibly devoted Kamchatka samurai… Now he wanted to write and describe about all our roots, about all his origins.… He wanted to write that it was his "roots" that Alexei had forgotten, it was his thin "roots" that were not properly flavored with that primordial tenderness of his mother Tatiana, and perhaps also with that semi-paternal care of his elder brother Dimka, so that not at all, without burning out himself, and even in a moment burning down, and then he himself gives all the same to his beloved children, daughter Diana and son Alexander, wife Mariam, and only then to all of us…

3

5

.0.

Nine

of the

most

famous

Japanese

samurai

biographical

information,

which

was

always

in

the

folder

of

Alexei

Vayamretyl.

Ashikaga

Takayuji.

(1305-1358

years).

Ashikaga Takayuji was one of the most controversial figures among the samurai of his time. In just a few years, he was able to put an end to the shikken Hojo, restore imperial power, and then cause a split in the court that lasted another thirty-five years after his death. Takayuji founded the sepunate of the Ashikaga dynasty, one of the three most significant shogunates in the history of feudal Japan. His reign, which began in 1338, ushered in the Muromachi period in Japan. Takayuji came from the samurai family of Seiwa Genji, who settled in the Ashikaga region in Shimotsuke Province (now Tochigi Prefecture), and was a descendant of Emperor Seiwa. Since Takayuji came from an imperial family, he was one of the few Japanese leaders who bore the full h2 of hsei-taishogun. But before rising to this h2, Takayuji was a military commander under the Kamakura shogunate and in 1333 was sent to Kyoto to suppress the Genko rebellion that had been going on for two years. But then Takayuji became disillusioned with the Kamakura shogunate, refused to follow the orders of shikken Hojo, and sided with his deposed emperor Go-Daigo, Nitta Yoshisada, and Kusunoki Masashige. This alliance managed to take Kyoto. As a result, the imperial court was restored there to replace the samurai military government. Takayuji opened his office in Kyoto, called Buygo-sbo. She was in charge of managing the city, and Takayuji was given the right to distribute awards, give jobs, and make promotions in his subordinate troops. Go-Daigo generously rewarded Takayuji and made him shugo Musashi and Shogun Cbiniufu, commander of the Northern peacekeeping army. Takayuji, however, made it clear that he desired the h2 of shogun, which would mean that he would become the supreme commander. The way out of this predicament was to be given the h2 of Shogun Cbiniufu by Go-Daigo.; This rank was below the one Takayuji considered himself worthy of, but it made it possible not to anger another key general, Nitta Yoshisada. The restoration of imperial power caused discontent among the samurai, and neither Takayuji nor the emperor were able to prevent uprisings – the Nakaksendai uprising began in 1335 and aimed to restore the Kamakura shogunate. And then Go-Daigo made the wrong political decision, sending Nitta Yoshisada, not Takayuji, to pacify the uprising. The latter took this as an insult and defeated Yoshisada at the battle of Nakon Take, but Sita. Then sei-i-tai shogun led his army to Kyoto and briefly captured the city until he was driven out by the troops of Yoshida and Kusunoki Masashige. Takayuji crossed over to Kyushu Island, where he recruited new soldiers from local clans, and began a second campaign against the capital. In 1336, Takayuji defeated Yoshisada and killed Masashige in the battle of the Minato River, took Kyoto and set out to place Komyo on the imperial throne. This choice caused a split in the imperial court, dividing it into a southern and a northern one. From the book: Lewis T., Ito T. Samurai: the way of the warrior (Translated from English – M.: Publishing house "Niola Press" 2008. pp. 88-87.

3

6

.0.

The

experience

of

ancient

centuries

is

passed

down

from

generation

to

generation.

And thinking about Alexey Vayamretyl's family, and now, after analyzing and comparing everything, he remembered how in 1969, as a student at a secondary special school, he was on a tourist train in Uzhgorod in the Carpathian region and saw how the grandfather, father, and grandson family sat in the workshop and made wooden carved inlaid boxes. And then he remembered how his father taught his little son how to make a small box, but his grandfather himself, cutting a rather large and complex box, had already taught his son, and at the same time taught and instructed his beloved grandson to cut them and such a small and at the same time medium-sized box. Because Alexander Ugolev understood that even an adult son could not master at once that special, ancient, special skill possessed by both his grandfather and his own father at the same time. And now there is that special continuity, when the dynasty of doctors, teachers, truck drivers, and even turners, and the same Jewish watchmakers or Ural miracle blacksmiths live and develop endlessly, perfecting their skills. Our people have those special dynasties, in the fullness of the meaning of the word, when our knowledge, when our ability to live, is crystallized, forged not in an instant, not at once, but somehow stealthily, sometimes only surreptitiously, spying on both grandfather and father like a boy, and for your older brother, when you yourself want not only to reach the heights of the craft skills of your family and elder, but also to surpass them, like those Olympic champions who every time, with each new Olympics, take heights higher, even if only by one millimeter., they take on more weight, even by one gram, and swim faster, even now that we have studied and exhausted all the internal reserves of the human body, and they are hundredths of a second ahead of the enemy, since literally all reserves are already laid down in those modern Olympic records and the limits of those physical forces of the body, the limits of strength, are laid down. It seems that all of our tissues, and our entire science of man, have already exhausted those special limits of the incredible and often undiscovered human forces themselves. So in our love, and in his, without seeing how your parents loved each other, how your grandfather looked after your grandmother, it is impossible to be incredibly tender and passionate yourself. This is probably how our true samurai, Alexei, who was devoted to his master, Died, wanting to live quickly and richly and win, so quickly he burned out, so quickly he suffered everything, that he burned out for others and burned out himself in an instant, flashing somewhere in our immeasurable sky with a flash of a new super bright and this one A supernova that not all astronomers may have noticed then and at that moment. Since their telescopes may have been directed to other sectors or to other areas of our sky. And, as we write these cursory lines, we ourselves want to focus their sensitive and sensitive antennae on the life of our beloved, revered Alexei Vayamretyl, a true loyal master of the Kamchatka samurai…

3

7

.0.

Modern

new

cellular

communication

networks,

which

have

entered

our

lives

literally

in

the

last

decade

, are

now

being

named

among

the

causes

of

bee

deaths.

And, among other reasons for the death of bees, they now name even modern new cellular networks that have entered our lives literally in the last decade, as well as the weakening of their bodies by ticks, an unknown fungal disease and even an increase in solar radiation.… – Why are our bees dying? – now Alexander Ugolev persistently asked himself. I would not like to think so, but it seems that our arrogance is also ruining them, and our consumer attitude towards the most pristine Nature of the earth is ruining them. Unlike free-living birds, these hardworking insects are now in many ways "under the care" of humans, just like our children in boarding schools, which means that we are responsible for everything that happens to them. So, our Kamchatka children, and it doesn't matter if they are a Namylanan or a Koryak, a Chukchi or a truly indigenous Olyutorian, Laurovetlan or even Even, once they are placed in these closed boarding schools, we and only we are responsible for them! … And, Ugolev Alexander, after reading the last word, realized that for everything that happens and happened to Alexey Vayamretyl, for everything that happened to him earlier and will happen later, it is his mother Tatiana and the eldest, and his brother Dmitry, his beloved, who are responsible. his wife Mariam, and all his numerous friends Nikolai, Kostya, Andrey, Ruslan, Oleg, and then numerous comrades, and maybe even his drinking buddies, who individually and collectively filled his entire Kamchatka life, could not and could not help him in time., to put our firm shoulder of support in time, to pull him back in time, to stop him in his truly adolescent deviations, to set him on the right path in time to teach him how to truly resist those special global and planetary challenges that often do not depend on ourselves, and to protect him from our simple those special human relationships, often unintelligible, often incomprehensible, not realized or justified, old or introduced new beliefs of ours, there are special remnants and old customs that we sometimes put up with or violently overcome, and it may not always be acceptable in our secular modern society, integrated into all world processes, and human obsolete traditions and prejudices, which are even more multifaceted and complexly intertwined with us, perhaps even more contradictory than all those factors unknown to many the environment around us and the entire ecology surrounding us, or that special cosmological influence that venerable scientists often do not tell us about. But the media run by multinational companies or the venerable scientists themselves, whom today multinational companies and corporations can easily bribe and pay with their dollars or special benefits, and honors up to the Nobel Prize, and even ask for a little bit for a good reward to be a little silent for a while, to remain silent for a while… And now he wanted to understand even more deeply those human relationships with his friend Alexei Vayamretyl, which at some point so easily stopped and cracked, gave a completely unnoticeable crack, like in that huge ocean iceberg hidden in the depths of the water, and the broken piece then swirled it, twirled it in the world. In our Pacific Ocean and in our Bering Sea, which has already formed a deep funnel, no matter how he tried to struggle out with his thin arms, he could not, every day, every hour, every minute and, even for a second he lived here on Earth, plunging into that abyss of the cold Pacific water ice abyss, perhaps invisible to others, into those unknown depths of the Pacific terrestrial eleven-kilometer-deep faults, which, as harbingers of earthly catastrophes, surround our Kamchatka land, which give birth here to this land rich in people, rich in minerals, rich in fish and it is also created by such mighty giants of four or even five-kilometer volcanoes, which at the same time protect us, and which often so menacingly warn us about their cosmic and non-earthly power., and notifying us all in advance about their global greatness here on Earth, only with their underground infrasound hum and special vibrations, proclaiming from their fiery womb that all of us, living first of all, we all burn together, and we, first of all, together with our best friends, constantly burn down, literally burn out. And, living, our entire life's highest physical entropy is all the same, for some reason steadily decreasing with the years we have lived, somehow decreasing, perhaps losing that youthful sharpness of all our long-standing special sensations, gradually losing that special clarity of our thoughts. And, for someone like Alexey Vayam, the grandfather of a true and true Kamchatka olyutorsky samurai devoted to the master, it will only last for such short and such fleeting twenty-five years of earthly local Branches-Tilichik Kamchatka life, and for someone like my friend Olelei Ivnatovna from northern Achaivayam, she had enough of it already for all 96 years, the years she has lived, and she has been asking her Divine Raven, her Divine Kutha, who is sitting next to her on a sprawling lonely poplar tree, for a long time and persistently, asking him to carry her off this Earth on his wings, because, She's been blind for a long time, and her daughter hanged herself from grief and unrequited love, and her fourteen-year-old granddaughter is already growing up in the same Achaivayam boarding school, and she doesn't even have enough pension to live on for two. A young child grows up, requires clothes, food, supervision, and attention, which she can no longer give due to her infirmity, and she is no longer old enough to care for a small child. And he, their Chukchi, their Koryak, their Nymylansk, their Olyutorsky, is fabulous and the most divine of all the divine ones, just like her, quite old, but their Divine Kutkh does not want to obey her such persistent pleas and her persistent requests, realizing that even though her already rather low vital entropy is still She needs her native, her beloved and her only Albino granddaughter, who is growing up every day, who is somehow maturing quickly with every day she lives, and she is about to enter that special pigeon, and even into that local river Achaivayam hare age., or the age of a seal, when from her fetal egg, which is also not visible to us, from her warm breathing womb, from her young egg, from her young entropy, perhaps a new Alexey, a new Alexey Alexandrovich, a new such small, such plump Alexey Alexandrovich, will suddenly and unexpectedly be born, just like mine grandson Stepan Vasilyevich, who was born on October 23, 2012, far from here in Lipetsk. I am sure that a new true and true samurai, devoted to his master, will be born from her, and the local Kamchatka life, like every spring, will begin on Earth in a new way, then increasing his inner physical, maybe thermodynamic internal entropy every day, and her milk, white as this pristine unpolluted snow, will be drunk by him like that life–giving moisture and pure, like those tears that I am now and today pouring from the memory of our Alexei Vayamretyl, who has long been lying on the water now in the form of a block of transparent ice and incredibly clear water – nilgikyn washed, otherwise I wouldn't have called her. And, I see under him, under that ice formed from that clear water, the nilgykyn soap, which easily evaporated, then from his dried-up body, embraced by the flames of a campfire, and somewhere in the depths, is there a frisky goldfish, and a nimble, elusive young chariton, as the Sun is in early spring It's fun to warm up and a new life is emerging here on our Kamchatka peninsula, on our beloved round globe of the Earth, as in 123,000 cases it happens every day, as many stars go out in the sky every day, announcing all of us about different people, both young and not so young, leaving the Earth.…

And, Alexander Ugolev understood that no one could ever stop this very intense Kamchatka life, just like his current flight in space from Moscow to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky and all the way to these coastal Pacific Tilichiki, and he himself could not interrupt it now, since the plane had its own real commander. Today and now it can still be on the taxiway in Moscow, and it is only necessary for the super-powerful turbines to gain those stable ten thousand revolutions and the plane to enter the taxiway and then their constant afterburner, and the dispatcher gives permission to go to the runway, and tomorrow – it is already going down and afterburner again, but already braking of the same turbines, easily controlled by the pilot, and he is here on the peninsula in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, and there are now such native Tilichiki, there is his native home, there is his beloved wife Natalia.… Unfortunately, today he is not the commander in the cockpit of this A-310 aircraft, just as he is not the commander in our entire plane, and his Life, where the Lord God himself may be – Jesus Christ, and according to laws and signs known only to him, sets his governing commands for all of us, which our whole Life, like this plane, obediently carries them out, regardless of the opinion of this frail passenger of the liner of Life, or his desires, or even his special beliefs during his earthly life. Life is here in the Tilichiks themselves, rushing through it like the wing of a soaring seagull along these ascending air currents coming from the waves of the always restless Bering Sea… And again, there are memories in his head, and not only about Alexei Vayamretyl, but also about his sons Alexei and Vasily, his wife Natalia, his brother Ivan and his beloved grandchildren, just born Stepan and twelve-year-old Daniel … and even his thoughts about his ancestors: mother Euphrosyne, and brother Boris Grandmother Nadezhda, aunts Arina and Catherine, uncles Alexander and many, many whom he said goodbye to a long time ago, who left him long ago to conduct their conversation with him from there, from this silent divine far, far away…

3

8

.0.

He has a

tattoo

on

his

arm:

a

spider

constantly

crawling

upward.

When Denis Vayamretyl's real masculine strength and his special and unique personality began to awaken in his still young body here on Branveyama, he was already about fourteen years old, and his grandfather sent him to the village of Achayvayam to the reindeer herding unit for a summer training, to his friend and mentor Omruvye Ignatiy Pavlovich, so that he would teach over a long summer, It is not so simple for a boy to learn the local herding craft of a reindeer herder and to get to know his native such a fertile land better. They set off on foot with their grandfather on the road through the village of Khailino, but only to Dmitry's grandfather, and perhaps even to bears and wolverines, guided by narrow paths that had been trodden by someone before them. True, Dmitry's grandfather had a real nickname among his people, Wolverine, because with his tundra habits, a special way of life, and probably with his hairy appearance, he looked like this wise and lonely animal, always close to the king of animals, the bear, and at the same time, being away from him as if and at a certain distance, at a certain and safe distance, perhaps, collecting only after that all the remaining leftovers from his abundant red fish river table. When our Kamchatka umka bear hid his abundant summer prey in the tundra litter, so that it would get a light whiff in a day or two, our lone wolverine, the bear's "friend", would appear, attracted by that special aroma of food, and then a special free festive summer would come for her. a feast of real wolverine gluttony, since at that time the club-footed ruler of the local tundra umka was so keen on fishing on the ripples that in his fishing passion he recklessly forgot about his coastal supplies and about possible food-hungry thieves. And, her previously empty wolverine stomach was filled with slightly sour and at the same time sweet meat of large game (deer, or moose, or a state farm cow, or even red fish meat from fish pits from numerous local river poachers). Back then, for weeks, the wolverine did not leave the "bread" place she had noticed, only circling and circling this place and feeding here every day, like some of our people in the dining room or in the restaurant. It was on such days that a joyful feast came for her and her life became easy, not like in the long, long winter, when she had to walk dozens of kilometers along the seashore or across the endless tundra to find anywhere at least one feather that had fallen from a black raven flying in the wind, or the remaining from the table of the cunning fox or the feast of the omnipresent divine ravens. In his youth, the journey from the Branches through Kultushino to Khailino and then to the reindeer herders in Achaivayam was only two weeks for Dmitry and his grandfather Ilya, and he did not have time to get tired of the paths that were still frozen in places in early spring, since the snow had not yet melted, and during the winter it was packed to a steel density, and they had to walk on their wide hunting skis, which were beaten down by seals in the fall, it is so easy and fast. Dmitry also felt that special youthful energy in his body, which was not at all wasted, and all the time he often tried to outrun his grandfather, carrying quite a heavy load on his shoulders, although, as Dmitry knew from experience, the Koryaks and Chukchi, and the Nymylans, along with the Kamchadals and olyutors, went out into the tundra, out of they never take a large load from one village to another, but only a light but sharp and durable knife, of course, a supply of matches, an aluminum pot for water, and even a small supply of dry and light foods for the first two or three days, and of course that special pinch of salt, yes, there must be roots of the mysterious and their fabulous this mysterious golden root, the local Rhodiola rosea. And the villages themselves were located here in such a way that the traveler reached it on foot literally on the third day, and in the village or at the reindeer herders' or fishermen's camp there were new meetings, new conversations, and a new common table, when the traveler was greeted joyfully in the local tundra, and more than once with fragrant tea. They'll get you drunk, and then they'll put you to sleep on a soft bed no worse than they sleep on themselves. And if the traveler is respected by them, if he is also young, slender and quite handsome, and inspires real trust with his speeches and arguments, then they will definitely put their daughter or even their beloved mammy next to you, so that their ancient bloodline is slightly there, in their deeply hidden genes somehow themselves to cheer up their blood with true energy and youth for once, and they did not have that modern, not current in such cases, unreasonable "jealousy" or strong "hatred" for their young friend, for their brother, since they knew from their ancestors that in order to, in order for their kind to mature, so that their kind would not degenerate and cease, so that deer would breed, a strong shepherd was needed here in the tundra. And the deer here gives you a place to live, and your breadwinner, and literally your whole life depends on him. Neither he nor you can live without him in the open spaces of Kamchatka. They, the countrymen, did not have that puritanical, modern American, which came out of their slave past, that you cannot touch a woman or take any initiative on her own. All this is superfluous here, everything here is so superficial. True, Dmitry was still at that rather young age that he had only heard about it from his elders or peers, and he had never even slept with any girl or mammy, because he was only interested in his youth, and attracted by the local hunting, the very long movement, the irrepressible the desire to change places, the knowledge of his native land, the mastery of the customs of the people and all the customs of his tribesmen, and by the evening of a long day he was so tired that, having had enough of evening tea and steamed deer shurpa, he fell on the first tough deer skin and slept so sweetly., and in such a young dream that, perhaps, in the early and cold morning, when you wake up, he was already beginning to be disturbed by those fabulous seductive dreams of ours in our youth, which he was afraid to tell anyone about, since few of us even talk about it. And who are you going to tell here in the tundra, when you're surrounded only by adults and much older than you? And your peers and your peers, they all stayed there in your native village of Branches and you just saw them in a dream, and you see and communicate with them, and maybe you hug those cute elastic girls, which you are ashamed to admit even to yourself. In general, he didn't even think about such a relationship between a girl and a boy, which he dreamed more and more often in his dreams. Well, maybe only in early autumn, when a powerful choir is looking for its doe, it will surreptitiously observe their special games from behind a bush, their unusual and new customs for it.

When he was in the herd last summer, not far from home, and saw in the fall how the rut of their deer began, he watched with interest how a large choir sat on top of a small, as it seemed to him, female, then his young flesh, which had not yet been restrained by anyone, sometimes caught fire with such fiery force and that special the intense inner passion that she was straining so much from the hot and fast-flowing young blood that seemed to have not yet spoiled his imagination, and then, as if he was about to jump out of his body from inside his body and lightly splashing, he would pour a special heat with a warm, life-giving liquid, and in those moments, when he closed his eyes, it only seemed to him that a beautiful brown-eyed and unknown beauty in a red festive blouse embroidered by her, that special girl of his, was watching his awkward movements of his hands, with which he tried at first to somehow correct, and somewhere inside, to hide all the inner tension of his youth, and now it was so exciting for him in these moments, and he wanted to relieve it with the following, progressive movements of his hands, and those who did not obey his awareness of passion, or maybe shame in front of her, of what he was watching now, and what he himself, following the example of the choir-deer, was doing with his young overstressed body, and all his unusual actions that no one showed him, then at such moments inevitably ended with those inner splashes of strong energy coming deep from afar. jets of whitish-milky spray, scattering in the wind from somewhere unknown inside his young body throughout the virgin tundra surrounding him, where there is not a single prying eye for tens and hundreds of kilometers., where there is no prohibition for him or anyone, just as there is no prohibition for the entire local red river, which just as easily enters the numerous rivers here, only attracted by an unknown natural inner homing coming from within, which was just beginning to form in his body and where then this his homming Denis will lead We don't know yet… The first time this happened to him was last fall, when he was on a flight from the village of Vyvenki in the area of the Parapolsky Valley. And then, in those moments of joy and his inner flight, there would come a slight tiredness and that inner bliss of incredible pleasure, such a special joy and complete satisfaction from his very existence, and she would then, as it were, incline him to a quiet sleep and complete rest in the same place from which he watched his beloved moving in the whirlwind of his eternal reindeer dance. Quickly, hiding behind the cedar bushes, it seemed to Dmitry that the face of a fabulous and unknown beauty flashed by him-a nymph of such fabulous charming beauty that he had never seen on earth before. At the same time, his still beardless face turned crimson and bled as quickly, and his inner tension, for some reason unknown to him, fell so quickly, while his blood in his head and not yet so strained vessels throbbed for a long time and slightly rushed to his aching temples, pounding as if he had run for deer or chasing game for miles across this tussocky tundra. And then, relaxed and exhausted, he would fall on a warm, delicate and soft green and fragrant elderberry or on a white fluffy yagel, which absorbed him completely, with his face, inhaling its special resinous aroma, hiding his still overstressed body in bushes and pure white yagel, so that no one would see him like this a homming activity here. And by morning, he would go out to the outskirts of the herd again and carefully stare at the life-and-death battles of large choirs and their victorious dance when they managed to win, sometimes bleeding both saliva and red blood at the same time, and from their tense bodies, just like he had last night. against their will, a whitish liquid splashed and was followed by their strong roar of appeal, which is difficult for anyone to convey, and which announced to the whole local area the birth of a new deer life here in the boundless deer tundra. Such a powerful male, who won the competition, stood on a hill, a strong autumn wind blew over him, his fur stood on end, all his strength and thick fat gained during a long summer rich in green grass were visible under it. Dimka could see the natural strength and indescribable grace of the local choir in hunting, she was visible from afar, and he passionately merged with one or the other female hunting for him for literally seconds, in his natural homming, pouring into her body all his special deer strength and his a dozen-year-old life that gives her all the energy, and that special physical thermodynamic entropy that Dmitry didn't even know about yet, which, as time passes, will easily transform into the very local Kamchatka full-fledged Life., then he turned into an unintelligent little spring kayu, who will need his constant protection and care until she grows up and in a year or two she grapples with him in their passionate life-and-death duel. And this is the whole Kamchatka life here, and this is the whole existence here, and this is the whole essence of such an ancient Kamchatka philosophy here. And, in Dmitry's young head, uncluttered by any prejudices, a question arose.: – Will I be able to do the same as this strong choir?.. And where is my namylanka? Is she waiting for me? And this inner question of his was unanswered for quite a long time until this summer. Dmitry walked and walked, and carried, and carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, as there was a supply of food, and a bed, and clothes for a long summer, which were provided to him by the caring hands of his mother, who sewed at night from the skins of deer and game for him durable bags, a summer cook, and this elegant one only for He's got Malachi. Of his personal clothes, he liked Malachai the most. His cut, his drawing spoke about the history of his family's Way of life and about his special destiny here, the curls of that intricate drawing hid the secret of his entire future, drawn in a winding line of graphic multicolored ornaments. All this was also hidden in those beads, which were collected in a circle for more than one day and evening by the already poorly seeing mother Yi, who put into his headdress all her skills and the ancient, most ancient local special and Kamchatka branch knowledge. And she saw and knew, like his beloved grandfather, Wolverine, a lot. However, she could not always express everything in her own words and in her own language, which Dmitry himself already understood poorly, having lived for many years in round-the-clock kindergartens and out-of-school local Kamchatka boarding schools. For him, it was often enough to change her facial expressions for Dmitry to understand whether she was happy to meet him or was upset about something inside her soul, or wanted something from him now. So, when he came from the district center from friends, and she was washing him under running water, and saw a new tattoo on his left shoulder, not made by her hand, in the form of a spider crawling up, her heart slightly accelerated its beating.: "The young man is maturing and moving forward," she also thought. "He will be even more beautiful and better than his father, he will be the leader of our pack," she thought. His choice of this animal in the form of a tattoo, which appeared so unexpectedly on his body, also spoke about this. Now she didn't know when he'd made it or where it had happened to him. Was there a place for a spider in their lives, in these harsh Kamchatka regions? To others, it would seem that spiders live only in the south of the peninsula. But there is no. And even in this harsh region of northern Kamchatka, there is a hardworking ant, and this clever spider, which in summer is visible on all the hills, in warm, secluded, windless places, and also in numerous decays, not at all afraid of those winter frosts, as it was able to hide under the bark and in the thick for the winter. a layer of leaf litter, which, like that warm fur coat, covered the local tundra, and allows many terrestrial inhabitants to survive.

And, Dmitry, even in his childhood, would lie down on a soft yagel in decay and watch for a long time as the spider diligently weaves its thin web so that a mosquito or a small fly would fall into its invisible net, and he was surprised at its special strength and agility of the spider itself, which at a moment appeared from its hiding place and its trophy so he wrapped more and more coils of this web tightly, so that in just a minute or two it was impossible to see what he had hidden there for dinner or for the next lunch. And his peers, who for their youthful transgressions (theft, fighting, drunkenness, non-payment of fines) He had already visited the Olyutorsky bullpen or even served time in Ust-Kamchatsk, in that prison area, seeing him in the sauna or in the summer on the shore of the fourth base, they unanimously approved of his progressive drawing, since they knew the local Kamchatka prison customs and special customs that had not yet been established by them. And the spider crawling upward was telling their subconscious and their special masculine worldview that this guy was getting better, that the guy was going in the right direction – constantly heading somewhere up and forward in his thoughts. – Although what is his fault here? No one knew that. Yes, Dimka would not have told any of his closest friends about his special visions in the tundra, so unexpectedly and unexpectedly, which came to him surreptitiously, literally from nowhere in the form of that unknown red fish of the local Kamchatka natural and eternal our homming, which attracts this fish with thousands and millions of glistening specimens With its red sides in the ancient Sun, the nilgykyn soap attracts them from all over the vast expanses of the Pacific Ocean, now almost every day. And now she came to him almost every early morning, while he was still in bed, in the form of a white-skinned mermaid bathing on the riverbank, or maybe a little dark-skinned and especially inexpressibly beautiful divine nymph, or even the local Khailin, or even Achaivayam Chukchanka, who with her flexible the camp, which with its fabulous whisper was now calling him to no one knows where, and he, so weakly, got up and quietly walked then to the bank of the local river, and he went to the highest local hill to look and look from there, to peer into the farthest distance, in order to learn everything in life here, in order to see only her again in reality and on this steep shore, since he, having tasted his already truly masculine homming maturing somewhere inside, was now as stubborn as that spider on his left shoulder, which was at his heart in the weave of its thin cobwebs. And the older he got, the more he knew the local customs and secrets of his Nimilan tribe, and now he wanted to preserve them all, preserve them, and naturally multiply them in his own way.

3

9

.0.

Nikolay

Umyavilkhin

is

Alexey

's boarding school

friend.

A white police helicopter from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, as usual, arrived at the Tilichiki regional center in the north of the Kamchatka Peninsula without the usual warning after sunset late on the last Friday of the month. Before that, according to the previously received assignment, they flew into the Crucible on the way, delivered 300 kg in bundles of paper, cartridges, computers and a new uniform for the police, and also landed at the district center in Palana to coordinate the further flight plan with the district police department, as well as clarify some official information, and also unloaded a new service card. weapons and new personal protective equipment: five Kevlar bulletproof vests were received, as well as uniform winter clothes for the district police department. Igor Viktorovich, the head of the Olyutorsky district Police Department, called an operational meeting of all employees of the Department of Internal Affairs at 19:00. -Fellow officers, sergeants and foremen, officers from the regional Department of Internal Affairs have just arrived to us on a business trip: Captain Smolensky Yuri, representing drug control in the region, and senior Lieutenant Alexander Babenko, representing the regional criminal investigation department, our criminal police in a new way. Then, he poured a glass of water, brought it up with a slightly trembling hand and drank it in one gulp in front of the surprised policemen, because at lunch he ate a couple of pieces of soaked red local fish, which he immediately loved so much upon arrival, and now he was so thirsty that he could not wait for the end of this unplanned meeting. And then, satisfied that he had quenched his unquenchable thirst with the clean and cold local artesian water, he continued: – First of all, I would like to thank everyone for the successful operation on the Kamchatka red book gyrfalcon last week. Thanks to the prompt work and help of our long-established agents, we managed to find seven birds and prove the participation in their capture of citizen Tertychny Peter, our homegrown, yes, you all know the conservationist from the green group, who is funded by the well-known American WWW foundation with millions of grants, and we also arrested his client, Aslambek Magomedov, a citizen from Ossetia. The material is almost ready to be submitted to the Court, and we have submitted it to the prosecutor's office for verification and approval by the prosecutor of the indictment. If there are no significant comments from our investigative department, Captain Anatoly Bobrov, I ask you to take over control and on Wednesday, report to me on the results of the case review at the prosecutor's office. I would like to note that our agents have done a good job here. I also thank the 9th department, Lieutenant Oleg Krutikov – you did a great job and well done. Everyone was out of joy and praise, joy, and applauded loudly. – Fellow officers! No unnecessary emotions, please! Don't show your emotions, we're on duty! – the skinny, probably only forty-year-old head of the department raised his voice a little and continued. – According to the current arrival of the group of the regional Department of Internal Affairs, our task is more complicated, since several criminals in the district center are probably working undercover and maybe even through several intermediaries. What we discovered in June on Beregovaya Street number 2 turned out to be just 4 joints for personal use and we had practically nothing to show them. It means they have a warehouse or a real cache somewhere, and we haven't fully worked out all their contacts yet. It is clear that the supply channel goes through the sea in containers or with goods for sellers. Everyone looked at each other in surprise, and the head of the Olyutorsky district police department continued: – The officers who arrived have important operational information about our village. They came to us to fully document it. I ask you to charge all the batteries for the radio stations, camera equipment, and video cameras to the fullest, so that there are no failures and it is better to invite witnesses in advance from our assistants and warn them not to chat ahead of time. The officers from Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky have important information that a shipment of illegal goods will be shipped from the city on the ship Tairovo, which will be delivered on the way either to Ust-Kamchatsk or Ossora, or maybe directly to us in Tilichiki. It will be necessary to carry out appropriate investigative measures. The entire 9th department needs to work with our agents in addition, and all this should be done naturally in complete secrecy. A specific operational work plan will be communicated to everyone individually. Everyone took pens and notebooks and got ready to write down the boss's instructions. – My deputy Major Romashin is responsible for the distribution of people and assistance to those who arrived in the area from our department. Fyodor Viktorovich had been waiting for the command for a long time and jumped up from his chair, although his slightly obese body from beer was too difficult to lift so abruptly. But there's nothing you can do, two children, a daughter has grown up and is studying at an institute in Volgograd. – I'm listening! "Yes, you're sitting down, Comrade Major," the chief of the police department commanded calmly. – Everyone's in their offices and we're working. Tomorrow, together with the arriving helicopter, I will leave for the Pakhachinsky bush, probably in Apuka and in Sredniye Pakhachi with Alexander Babenko. Major Romashin remains on the farm. After the presentation of Yuri Smolensky, and recently he was awarded another rank, and he was only thirty, but he was a militia captain, and he slowly and masterfully entered Fyodor Viktorovich's spacious office. – Fyodor Viktorovich, I'll go with Alexander Petrovich to my mother's for a couple of minutes, she lives not far away here, I'll have dinner until about 20-00, and you can arrange for me to have Nikolai Umyavilkhin in the bullpen by that time. I'll need to talk to him and make sure that the vacant office is clear from prying eyes. – As always, office No. 24, on the second floor, is assigned to you. There is a safe and everything you need," the deputy head of the Olyutorsky district police department, F.V. Romashin, clearly informed. – Good! – and Yuri Borisovich left his office, ran down the wooden stairs to the first floor and went to his home to his beloved mother. He had long dreamed of coming to his native Tilichiki, where he was born in 1984, where his mother now lived alone, at the same time, she helped him buy an apartment in the center of Yelizovo, since his father was busy arranging his new and such a young family there in Yelizovo. Now police captain Sergei Borisovich and his wife were raising their daughter and her beloved 7-year-old granddaughter, and now they were also waiting for their son. My wife was 7 months pregnant. The ultrasound showed that it would be a boy. And so, according to intelligence information received from faraway Kazakhstan by regular mail, a shipment of drugs had to be shipped to the coast via one of the Kamchatka motor ships that often plied the eastern coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula, and since even in winter the Gulf of Corfu and the Hidden Bay were ice-free, which facilitated navigation throughout Kamchatka. to the east coast, there was a high probability that it would be delivered to coastal Tilichiki, and only then to Khailino, and to Talovka with Slautny Penzhinsky district. Since these villages are far from the coast and only GTT and MTLB all-terrain vehicles go to them in winter, but three-axle Urals come with coal.

Then, after saying goodbye to the young drug control officer for a while, Fyodor Viktorovich Romashin called Alexander to Sasha's office. Captain A. Sashin had served his required retirement experience for a long time and worked as a duty officer in the temporary detention center without bothering himself at all, as he had learned the rules of the local police system quite well, where he had been working for a long time, awaiting the order of the regional Ministry of Internal Affairs to resign and, having been assigned to him with "backbreaking" work, "well-deserved", taking into account the northern local benefits of a pension in the amount of eighty percent of his current salary, which is why he had to pull his local northern strap for an extra three years. Already this year, in the spring, the container was sent to the mainland, it seems to the Ryazan region, all that remained was to wait for the long-awaited order of the authorities about the pension, and you are a free bird. Live and rest, at least he'll have a pension for bread and he won't have to worry, but he'd have the strength and the skill to work hard. But the unexpected delay and this problem itself arose due to the fact that he had previously transferred here to the Tilichiki regional center from far away Kazakhstan, and then someone from the personnel department forgot to enter or maybe lost the order for his transfer at that time and now he was, as if not an employee of the Department of Internal Affairs of Kazakhstan. He has been gone for 17 years, and it is clear that, according to the documents available in his personal file, he is not an employee of the Kamchatka Department of Internal Affairs, although he regularly received his salary during all this time. Ha ha! … So much for the whole knowledgeable department, so much for the order after the collapse of the former USSR. The echoes of that catastrophic destruction of our mighty state and the subsequent collapse into "free" republics have an impact on the specific fates of such ordinary workers, and it is clear that not only in the rather closed system of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. This applies to the prosecutor's office, the FSB itself, and the army, which is the unshakable guarantor of our happy lives now. But these sad thoughts have been visiting Alexander Sashin for a long time, and now here are the everyday days of his work, here in Tilichiki, here in the north of the Kamchatka Peninsula, and you have to regularly pull your police strap, because of this eighty percent pension, otherwise you would have been on a well-deserved retirement for three years at the age of 37. when a man just kind of lost his temper, when a man can still move mountains. He had to wait here for exactly the increased pension that would allow him to be more free, and financially independent, far away from here, as everyone here says on mother earth. The adopted children are already on their feet, the only daughter got married, and has already given birth to her child, and her husband earns well in communication. But he personally wanted to have bees that were not fussy and calmly listen to their buzzing, putting his beam under a spreading lime tree there in the Ryazan region in his native lands, where he spent his childhood and his quiet youth. – I order you to find Nikolai Umyavilkhin in two hours and register him with us in the bullpen. He's had a fine for a hooligan at a dance there for three months now, issued in May, I think, and still hasn't been paid. Let him sit for a while, tomorrow we will register him through the Magistrate's Court for fifteen days. – I'm listening! And who should I hand over the IVS itself to? "What is it?" the senior officer on duty at the temporary detention center asked, turning a bunch of keys from the armory. "Andrey Gordienko will be there," the senior officer commanded and continued. – Yes, I don't think you'll be looking for him for a long time. You can look at Oksana Kukushkina, he's been living with her for a long time. Just yesterday I saw him at the House of Culture in Verkhniye Tilichiki. Indeed, it was only in a rather old and rusty police UAZ truck on duty that Oksana the Cuckoo arrived at her apartment, and her youngest son Max was at home.: "And Uncle Kolya," he informed them, "has gone to his friend Alexei Vayamretyl. His apartment was not far away, literally one house away on the next street. They did not start the car, but walked on foot and loudly knocked on a new, but, like all Koryaks here, a long-worn door, since it was glued either from pressed cardboard or just from paper and painted on top literally once. Although the house is new, it was only introduced in 2007 after the earthquake of April 21, 2006, memorable to all Tilichiki residents, when half of the house in Lower Tilichiki was damaged, and all residents were happy, who were waiting for certificates, and who were waiting for new, restored housing in Upper Tilichiki to live here, as before. But the housing built in such a hurry from goods purchased somewhere in China was clearly so flimsy, and also the smell in the apartments was either formalin or formidron, or benzene or toluene itself, which did not wear out even with the windows open all winter. Yes, the Koryaks and the local Chukchi did not close those windows, because in their plagues they got used to breathing fresh air without these foreign impurities, from which the head was so pestilential in the morning, as if you were painting car bodies in some workshop or something else. It is natural that an earthquake with a magnitude of 9.5 on the Richter scale left in the soul of literally every resident, everyone who felt it and experienced that significant notch of natural deep fear, it remained in everyone's memory for the rest of their lives, as well as the human neurosis, probably never extinguished even by time, among many local people who survived, both the earthquake itself on April 21, 2006, and the period until then, they restored all engineering communications and restored engineering support for people's very lives, and even built the upper village of Tilichiki on, that almost 3.6 billion rubles were spent on reconstruction from the all-Russian budget under a special program.

"Who's there?" – he opened the door of the two-room apartment a little bit, already quite cheerful, since literally from four o'clock in the afternoon they were sitting and drinking at the kitchen table and, as always, naked to the waist, Alexei Vayamretyl looked out of the door. On his left shoulder was an expressive blue tattoo in the form of a hollow Christian cross, which was not painted over from the inside. When his friends, or even numerous acquaintances, asked what it really meant, he himself could not clearly explain, since Vladivostok prisoners had tattooed him, it seems, when he was in an IVS in Tilichiki last year for not paying his next reckless fine because of a small bill he had arranged. debauchery and, as always, in the regional House of Culture and, as always, at their Saturday evening disco, when literally all Tilichik, and Corfu, as the local policemen called them, are not mature "cockerels" to show themselves in the district House of Culture., and choose the girls for yourself. Youth. Inexperience. The game of hormones. And, their special youthful homming that just came to them from the shores of the Pacific Ocean, their testosterone-filled explosion of everything and everything, probably for themselves, literally from the inside out, when their blood and blood are so bubbling in their temples, when it doesn't matter why or why, but it does matter, what and how, and when, is important because you're in this herd of males, and they're also looking at you, encouraging your arrogance, and not necessarily with a word, but with a look, they're definitely encouraging you, and it's clear that they're pushing you to show off your heroism, to that ritual act of a real male deer and chorus, who stands undefeated on the highest hill and contentedly examines his local expanses and contentedly examines his reindeer, tired and at the same time satisfied with the victory, examines his obedient harem. It's important that you still have the strength and energy. It is important that your unexpected fist strike is so accurate and so dexterous, and unexpected for him, and you strike at the very moment when your opponent is not yet properly prepared, when he is not expecting such a strong treacherous blow from you, not yet understanding how in such a situation a fragile body can have such an explosive muscular force that knocks it down in an instant on the ground, on the local age-old Tilichik rocky-sandy land, and when it is your opponent defeated, it does not matter who he really is, your friend or your enemy....

Then you and the still young Alexei Vayamretyl are taken apart by that inner boyish itch that comes from nowhere, and the highest pride in yourself, for your strength, for your courage and dexterity, and your ability to defend yourself, then your bragging is coming out of you, and you watch as In fact, your friends, your current drinking buddies, are reacting to your actions, rejoicing at their victory. Then you have such joy in your soul that you are so really strong, that you are also a real winner, and everything else, and even your imminent arrest, by the cops who arrived for fifteen days and it doesn't matter at such a joyful moment for you … he smashed two of his peers Oleg Gaichukov and Yefim Pantyukhin. all the Koryaks are Zapatniki, as he liked to say about their noses afterwards. There was also the boring Ivan Tnuptin, the "faggot" of the latter, and also the syphilitic man who tried to drunkenly rape the mother of his best friend Alik not so long ago. Their blood, there was a puddle on the concrete porch. But in the morning, over another bottle and a half of beer, either "DV" or "Miller", which was circling their young head, quickly reconciled with each other, and they had no real claims against Alexey Vayamretyl, since they were actually his relatives and local tribesmen, and they fully admitted their guilt, since it seems that they spoke hastily and not politely about his wife Mariam out loud, hinting at her outside connection with the builders who came to rebuild their village after a catastrophic earthquake from Vladik, or rather Vladivostok, far from here. But there was nothing anyone could do now. The ambulance was called by the workers of the House of Culture, who were afraid of blood at the time, because they thought that Vanka Tnuptin had really killed him, since the pool of blood from under his zapatka was a good circle from the basin. He lay unconscious for about half an hour, after Alyosha's right hook and the subsequent sharp, as always, left blow to his nose. And the ambulance workers, as always, promptly phoned the police about the fight in the village, and after an hour or two, the precinct officer and the cops on duty searched for them and interviewed all the witnesses who quickly fled, as Nurgaliyev himself, their Minister of Internal Affairs, requires them to register everything, even a domestic cat. I would have scratched you. And it's clear that we need to somehow increase the police staff, but for this we need to improve not only registration in the system itself, and it's important that even in that distant, described only by Alexander Solzhenitsyn and only by him back in 1933, and now in the 21st century, nothing changes in this very repressive system.. An instruction from above, and it is obtusely and formally carried out from below, and even more so, and this is because the government itself must systematically approach such complex problems as the law and its observance, primarily by police officers themselves. In such cases, the cops are like those vultures right there. All they had to do was figure it out and stop the sudden quarrel, as always. The indigenous guys themselves quickly reconciled because those of our all-Russian laws, which were written there, somewhere far away in our capital in Moscow in their local youth Tilichik, Nimylansk, Koryak and Kamchatka get-togethers, practically did not work and could not be fully applied in their mutual relations. And, for them, this rather light and harmless fight was that special, maybe even youth bravado, to show all their masculine prowess that was just emerging somewhere inside them, which was born somewhere inside them and had been maturing for a long time, regardless of their desire by someone. to be or to become. And they also wanted so much to show all their youthful strength, pumped up in the local gym, to show all their dexterity and all the special ability to defend their numerous tribe and their special youth hangouts, their principles that came from nowhere, which he followed like a true and devoted Kamchatka samurai, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly observing his principles, strictly following them, without deviating at all from the chosen path of life. It is clear that Alexey loved his wife Mariam so selflessly, so immensely, so in a special way, one might say, with childish reverence, and would not have shared her fabulous night bed with anyone, he would never have given her to anyone, although he himself was not averse to spending the night in a strange house here, and even there, where there were young girls who responded quite easily to his not-so-persistent courtship, since by nature Alexey was not a real philanderer or the same lovelace as his loyal friends Daniil Kokandya, Kolka Umyavilkhin, and Artur Yailgin. He was not yet a real Tilichik ladies' man or even a philanderer, seducing and collecting all the local girls or girls, as his older friend Daniel liked to brag. Or is it because of their local northern special semi-sleeping nature, dusted with white snow, that special northern explosive homming, inexorable to all of us, has probably not yet come to him, which literally at the end of this May, as soon as the last ice leaves the rivers, will so summon the entire Pacific red river to the local deep-flowing rivers that no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance, no distance stone barriers, no stormy rolling of it will stop its rune course, and then thousands of tons of it, or even a million tons of it, can still be caught here., without disturbing in any way that great Pacific natural balance and that eternal homing of their movement upstream of numerous hundred thousand Kamchatka rivers. Alexey loved so devotedly in a special way and also in his own way, and was faithful only to his fabulous, adored, magical Mariam and, he did not need any other women here in Tilichiki, others, even quite young girls, because now he did not need them, since his irrepressible life passion was only for his wife. only to his beloved Mariam. Although many women of the same age as his current wife, Mariam, stared at him as a prominent Tilichik handsome man, as well as a special article, he was always different, and even he could wear ordinary clothes like others in a special, smart way, and his clothes themselves were different from other guys of his local Namyl It wasn't bought by the tribe, or maybe given by someone, it wasn't that important. It is important that she was not like everyone else, but truly excellent, truly expensive and branded, truly highlighting in him all that is naturally his best, that Mother nature laid down in him from birth and proportional growth, and explosive muscular strength, and truly unknown from where by the age of nineteen, men had a special bearing and statuesque appearance, which somehow stood out in him in a special way, or vice versa, with those firm clothes and it was also emphasized, and she was easily noticed by the local girls and noticed by them… What was worth was his special strength and bearing, his especially fashionable clothes, which always suited his appearance, which, unknown to him, had been brought here and, most likely, had been given to him. No one could understand and know where he got such a different kind of Nimylan-Koryak smartness in his soul, a natural ability to show himself to others in the best possible way, which simply fascinated and fascinated anyone who had communicated with him for a long time, especially his peers, leading them into those special Nimylan wilds of his soul. passionately passionate.

However, it was then in a fight that he himself grabbed from his loyal friends decently. Bruises and bruises remained on his white skin, which was not typical for the Vietnamese, Koryaks and Chukchi, and on his swarthy body even after his release from the Olyutorsky bullpen. And then, for a long time, the bruises and bruises came off his battered young and lean, muscular body. And after that tattoo, he was lucky, he also caught hepatitis B and C in the camera, probably the needles and ink themselves were not of high quality, or one of the tattoo artists himself was a carrier of these now widely occurring viruses that affect the liver itself, and even our consciousness.… He then spent three whole weeks in the infectious diseases department of the district hospital, until he managed to improve his health and get rid of jaundice. However, he was lucky at that time that the course of the disease was not very severe and, literally on the 21st day, he was discharged from the infectious diseases department located in an old wooden building in Nizhny Tilichiki at 4 Shkolnaya Street.

40

.0.

And

again

he

has a

conflict

with

the

district

police.

"So now we're breaking the rules here?" It seems that I have already paid all the fines I have for today to you or to some district budget, it seems, last week. Here are the receipts at the mirror," not at all afraid of the cops who arrived, he pointed with his left hand at the bedside table, which was literally at the entrance. – Oh, this time we're not going to you, my friend, but to your bosom friend and friend Nikolai Umyavilkhin. You have it, don't you?! Did your neighbors tell us correctly?! Captain Alexander Sashin insisted in his own police–like way, easily pushing Alexei away from the aisle, who was rather thin and frail, confidently stepping over the threshold of his spacious apartment on the first floor to see the entire corridor, slightly cluttered with children's clothes and toys. – yes! After all, he had only drunk one glass of vodka yet," Alexey Vayamretyl boasted, "and continued: – Kohl! And If!? It's you who the guests invite to the exit. Drink it quickly, or they won't let you go to the bullpen anymore. Or maybe it's better, comrade captain of the militia, instead of quarreling over our old friendship, we'll roll a hundred grams each, and then we'll disperse, like those ships at sea… And even, we can easily sign the protocol on the spot, as Kolka is my real friend and he is always so quiet, even though he looks like the local yerkum and can turn anyone into a ram's horn, even though you are here now. "It's going to be resistance, in the line of duty, you understand and know our strict laws, Alexei," the sergeant scolded the kid. "Yes, I know that, and I understand you," Alexey replied. And when he was drunk, he was particularly talkative and rather brave, slightly boasting, he continued: – Yes, and he didn't do anything today, as you can see, neither I nor he violated here, so you shouldn't arrest us and take us to the police department, comrades policemen, and even on duty.– the landlord of the apartment was already smiling in a wide smile. – Let him pay his fines on time, and then no one will look for him. And it will be easier for us," Officer Alexander Sasha continued. Nikolai Umyavilkhin himself came out of their spacious kitchen a minute later, hearing a conversation in the hallway, walking in his usual special waddle, really, like an autumn obese jericho, although he was not fat and not at all, and rather sad that he was interrupted by such a cheerful feast here with his best his friend and his wife, and their mother-in-law, whom he had set his eyes on for a long time and would not mind staying with her tonight, even if it was in the hall, even if it was on the floor, just to feel her flexible figure with his hands and feel his overstressed inner strength., which was literally coming and going for him every day. He was ready to lift any skirt now in order to feel like a fully mature local Tilichik hierkum. So what if she was almost 46 years old. There, the same actress Nadezhda Babkina and her young boyfriend seem to have a difference for all thirty years, and Maxim Galkin himself and Alla Pugacheva, after Philip Kirkorov, did not disdain using her body and, it also seems, 26 years difference in their age. Nikolai Umyavilkhin himself, without any police command, began to quietly and rather obediently dress in his worn denim jacket, tinkering for a long time with an unruly plastic zipper, which he had recently exchanged from builders for a bucket full of red caviar hawks. "How long will it take?" Nikolai himself tried to clarify with the police officer who arrived, not wanting to leave his younger friend Alexei and leave the local bountiful table, flavored with excellent slightly chilled vodka and even this fragrant Kultusha yukola. He understood that it was absolutely useless for him to argue with the police authorities now, since there was a fine and other sins on him, more than one protocol was there, hidden somewhere in their bottomless safes until special days… "You pay the fine, and then you're a completely free guy, and then you can go fishing in Kultushnoye or even on an adventure with Efim Shumov," the captain explained. – Alexey! My friend, just lend me two hundred and fifty rubles, otherwise Romashin will put me away for 15 days again," Nikolai asked his younger friend to borrow money to pay his long-standing fine, which he had long forgotten. "Well, where am I going to get you that kind of money, because you and I spent the last five dollars I earned for the fish today on groceries for my children and on those two bottles of vodka that are on the table," Alexei Vayamretyl himself defended himself. And on the food table, he only bought a kilo of rice for his children, and everything else went to the fabulous vodka he and his current mother-in-law Zoya loved and so intoxicated their heads.

41

.0.

Nine

of the

most

famous

Japanese

samurai

biographical

information,

which

was

always

in

the

folder

of

Alexei

Vayamretyl.

Akamatsu

Mitsusuke.

(1381-1441).

Akamatsu Mitsusuke was the great-grandson of Akamatsu Norimura, who is rightfully considered the man who laid the foundations of the family's power back in the Muromachi period. Initially, Norimura supported Emperor Go-Daigo during the Kemmi restoration, but later became a vassal of Ashikaga. In 1336, Norimura was appointed governor of Harima, and by the time of the third Shogun Ashikaga, the Akamutsu clan already controlled the provinces of Harima, Bizen, and Mimasaka, and was one of four clans whose members were represented in the Bakufu (shogunate) samurai-dokoro (council of vassals). Mimasaka Province was annexed to the Akamatsu clan after the Yamana clan was defeated in 1391. The result was a prolonged confrontation between the Yamana and Akamatsu clans. It was a family feud that would make itself felt several generations later and would have a very sad impact on the fate of Akamutsu Mitsusuke. In 1408, the twenty-three-year-old Ashikaga Yoshimochi became shogun, succeeding Yoshimitsu. In 1427, a year before the death of Ashikaga Yoshimochi, the unpredictable and, according to some sources, half-mad, Akamutsu Mitsusuke was the governor of Yamana Province. Yoshimochi planned to replace Mitsusuke with Akamatsu Mochisada, who was rumored to be the shogun's lover. Upon learning of this plan and determined to destroy it, Mitsusuke abandons Kyoto and moves to Mimasaka, the former domain of the Yamana clan. Yoshimochi declared these actions a betrayal, ordered the army to go after Mitsusuke. However, this order was never carried out, and the shogun's entourage dissuaded him not only from pursuing Mitsusuke, but also from the idea of replacing him with anyone else. Yoshimochi's change of allegiance created an unbearably confusing situation for Mochisada, who took full responsibility for the political turmoil upon himself and committed suicide. Mitsusuke decided to retire from business for a while and became a monk, which he remained until Yoshimochi's death in 1428. He was succeeded by his brother, Yoshinori, who became the new shogun in 1428 at the age of thirty-four. In this deja vu-like mess, Yoshinori plotted to overthrow Mitsusuke. Like his brother and predecessor, Yoshinori, exactly one year before his death, started a plot to replace Mitsusuke with the widely suspected lover of Shogun Akamatsu Sadamura. But this time, Mitsusuke responded more decisively than he had twenty years ago. When the shogun returned from suppressing the rebellion of the Yuku clan in the northern part of Hitachi Province, Mitsusuke invited Yoshinori to his palace in Kyoto to celebrate the victory. During the festivities, when Yoshinori and other guests in the garden were entertained by dancers, several horses got loose, causing a general confusion. Mitsusuke, of course, planned this distraction and did his best to kill Yoshinori in the confusion. From the book: Lewis T., Ito T. Samurai: the way of the warrior (Translated from English – M.: Publishing house "Niola Press" 2008. pp. 52-53.

4

2

.0.

And a

mother

is

happy

to

welcome

her

own

son

in

his

native

Tilichiki.

At the same time, Yura Smolensky's mother, in incredible joy, meeting the policeman's son in the corridor, did not know what to say to her surprise, so suddenly and without any warning, her own son arrived. – Oh, my son, I'm so glad! Are you just here for work? Why didn't you call in advance? I'd bake you a wild goose with apples and mushrooms.... – Mom, don't worry so much! I'm going to bake it for three or four days, so you'll have time to bake it, otherwise I'd better take it to Yelizovo, and my wife Elena will cook it for my daughter and me there, so that you don't have to worry so much here. And we couldn't call from Kamchatka for work, you know," my son said quickly, unbuttoning the numerous buttons on his tunic and other police clothes, putting his police clothes on a shelf in the hallway. – Yes, I know your ways, my son. This is happening here, son. All the Koryaks, people say, smoke their green weed or maybe cannabis, and someone from our Tilichiki is selling it freely. These oriental basurmans are not afraid of anyone, not Chechens, not Tajiks, or even hidden mujahideen. As for our children, they got stoned – one drowned, and the other crashed into Bricks on a motorcycle in the fall. They say he sped up to two hundred kilometers on a Yamaha Nova motorcycle, but the guy was only nineteen years old. Such a handsome kid, and what's it like for his parents, now his mother is in constant mourning, she would almost go crazy if it weren't for his younger brother, whom she now leads to school every day by the hand, and picks up from lessons herself, fearing for his safety. – Mom, let's talk about my work later, you know we can't discuss anything. Mom, we'll figure it out on our own with Alexander, you know that's our job," his son coaxed his son, who was worried about the growing sale of imported drugs in the village of Tilichiki. – How is my granddaughter Inga? Then you'd better tell me, is she growing up, son? "Have you been crying for a long time?" my mother asked, her eyes shining with tears of joy. – Yes, here are her color photos in your album and I brought a whole laser disc. There's even a video from her kindergarten, Oksana filmed it herself, you'll see later, they had an autumn festival. She's there and on the ice, and even in the pool, filmed, well, you'll see for yourself. Mom, let's have tea, otherwise I have to run to work in just an hour. And, Alexander needs to collect some documents, they are flying to Ust-Pakhachi tomorrow morning with the head of the district police. "What time will you be back?" – I asked again, because I wanted to cook something delicious for my son and his friend for dinner. "I think it'll be around ten, maybe eleven." Mom, I'm probably with Sasha Babenko, yes, you know him, he was two grades younger than me. He works with us at the regional Department of Internal Affairs. – I know, your father was a physical education teacher. Son, I'll cook a dumpling, I'll be waiting for you both. Yura's son quickly and habitually undressed, quickly washed his hands in the bathroom from the road and then, with his own and beloved mother, drank tea with a poppy pie and, instantly, both ran to the Olyutorsky district police department, greatly pleasing his mother with his unexpected appearance. – Well, have you found my ward? I asked Fyodor Viktorovich, who was now in their spacious duty room, which was located on the ground floor literally in the center of the building. – Of course, it was quite easy to find him today and everything has already been processed as it should be. He's already in cell No. 3 to show off better to his fellow villagers," Alexander Sasha reported. Perfectly! Let the guards bring him to my office 24 and beyond in 10 minutes, so that no one is even in the hallway. And who has the keys to the office? – said Captain Yuri Borisovich. – Everything is ready. Here's a set of keys for both the office and your safe. When you leave, hand it over to the attendant if I'm not there, and there's a tag here that you won't forget," Fyodor Viktorovich instructed. – Fine, I'm waiting. I need to make a couple more calls to the regional Department of Internal Affairs, consult and get up-to-date information, I think there is a connection to intercity and the eight? .. He did not have time to call back to the regional Department of Internal Affairs and report the arrival, and literally five minutes later there was a soft knock on the door. – yes! Come in! – as always, Yuri Borisovich commanded confidently. "Allow me to bring the detainee Umyavilkhin," Sergeant Sergei Ivanov, on duty at the temporary detention center, asked. – Start it up. Just take the handcuffs off him. The sergeant will then call you, you can be free," the captain gave the command. "Sit down, Nikolai Ivanovich. It's been a while since we've seen each other," the captain smiled at an old acquaintance from their Yelizovsky police department. "Yuri Borisovich, please don't turn me in to our guys here," Nikolai pleaded, knowing his sins. "Oh, no one is going to turn you in to anyone. We still need you, and we'll help you more than once, if you behave properly with us," the officer assured him.

43.0

How

Alexey's

friend

Vayamretyl

Nokolai

became

an

assistant

to the

local

police

unnoticed

by

his

friend.

Practically everything he was wearing then was bought at different times and given to him by her… And, in this scenario, he could not refuse her, even though his peers laughed at him and his fascination with the fat, in their opinion, "old woman."

4

4

.0.

How

Nikolai

was

caught

by the

husband

of the

barmaid.

On one of these visits, when Nikolai was slightly drunk and lying completely naked in bed with Ksyusha, the front door opened quietly, not closed on time, and he was engrossed in exploring her plump body and did not hear anything, only for a long time afterwards he remembered how a loud commanding cry rang out.: "I'll shoot you, bitch." You're cheating on me again with a new brat! And now I'm going to shoot this lovelace and a jerk, too, – and on the threshold of the bedroom, easily blocking the escape route, a tall, thin officer in a black Submarine fleet tunic was already standing, brandishing a pistol on a harness. "Petya, Petenka, it's not my fault at all! He insisted on it, he broke in, and he came here on his own.… I didn't even want to open the door for him today, I was playfully trying to get out of this situation as a passionate barmaid. – So, he also insisted! "and a real shot rang out, a rubber bullet bounced off the wall and hit Nikolai painfully on the head, somewhere on top of his head," the shooter himself was surprised at how well he did it the first time. After being hit by a solid bullet on his head, Nikolai froze in animal fear for not a single centimeter, not moving… with his tip sticking out red, like that autumn mushroom here, swollen and ready for a special action. And, literally a minute later, everything that Kolya had that was so much overstressed instantly weakened somehow easily and in a moment, and shriveled up so quickly, and hid somewhere in his body, and he himself fell on the bed out of fear and pressed himself into a down pillow, hiding his shaved head The head. "So he raped you, too?" – the husband asked. – Yes, yes, Petya! He raped me so much, you see the bruises," Ksyusha began to show her thick thighs to her husband, which a long time ago were covered with dilated venous subcutaneous nodes, as in all barmaids, her shift workers, and other saleswomen who stand for a long time in their often very lucrative jobs, not the fact that the veins burst from the weight of bags of sugar and cereals, and the legs themselves cannot withstand their constant eight-hour or more standing at the counter and that daily running from one shelf to another.... – Call Ksyusha quickly to the police. And you, you fucking bitch, and you rapist, lie down, and don't jump like you've been lying until now, and I'm going to swat the puppy! – the naval officer sternly demanded from Nikolai , who was completely stunned by what had just happened .… Nikolai's heart is fluttering so much that it won't pop out of his rather wide, but also completely hairless chest. Now, somehow, he quickly went limp and drooped, having now lost all interest in his future life. After experiencing fright and complete disappointment in this now fat and unattractive woman, who betrayed him so easily in an instant, he lost faith in justice and in the decency of people and in her loyalty.… Ksyusha, as if nothing had happened, easily dialed the Yelizovo militia number 31-202 and they arrived at their three-room apartment in a detached house on one of the outskirts of Yelizovo just a minute later. "What happened, citizen Surzhikova Ksenia Egorovna," the operative on duty asked, examining the passport she had handed out in advance. – Yes, a young student from vocational school came to visit, opened the gate himself, broke into my apartment with Petya against my will and began to rape me right on the threshold, – Nikolai Ksyushin heard babbling through his tears and at that time he wanted to cry even harder and louder from that hopelessness, and that his inner impotence, and also her deception and her real female betrayal.... "Where is he?" "What is it?" the officer asked. – He's there in the bedroom, his husband detained him, he came from the sea ahead of time and saw everything, how he raped me. And Ksyusha herself was very flushed, her cheeks turned crimson, as it were, and she was very excited about what was happening now. – Oh, are you a citizen going to write a rape report to the prosecutor's office? – the officer clarified loudly so that Nikolai could hear everything clearly. – yes! Oh, me! Yes! Oh! Yes! I'll write a statement right now," the barmaid said long ago, memorized words. Kolya was still lying naked on such an elastic bed, and like a frightened ostrich, hiding his shaved head in a feather pillow, he was now not happy that he had come to her today, that he had so recklessly and quite quickly stripped naked himself here, that he had drunk that red wine with her, and then, like a bear, he immediately climbed onto this enormous barmaid Ksusha.…

"Yes, I know, you'd better fix his fingerprints on bottles and glasses yourself, we'll have them for proof, and roll his fingers onto a fingerprint card, then they'll be useful to us in the surveillance case," the young criminologist lieutenant protested, going into either the bedroom or the boudoir of a regular prostitute and part-time also, and barmaids. – Are we going to confess, Nikolai Ivanovich? – and I took a break to see the reaction of the young "rapist". "You know what happens to rapists and they do it in our bullpen," the officer immediately threatened in order to quickly psychologically suppress and at the same time split the guy, who was stunned by fear of such an accusation under the article rape, and also penetration into the home, and did not expect to be arrested in any way. From natural fear, Nikolai has such a tremor in his body, his whole skin has taken on small pimples, as in a fifty-degree frost. Now he does not know what to do or what to answer the questions asked, since their essence has not yet reached his consciousness, since he has not realized what he is being accused of today. "Can I put my trousers on," Nikolai asked the officer through tears to cover his nakedness… "Just leave your panties on." Stand up straight. Wait here as a keepsake, we'll show your cellmates.... Stop! … Bend over!.. Turn your back!.. – Holy shit, he's got yalda!? – the officer commented.

Nikolai could no longer remember how he signed the protocol, what he said and what he explained to the investigator.... Now he was so upset by the betrayal of his eldest friend Ksyusha that he wanted to cry and, in a truly childish way, he was crying all that evening, no longer paying any attention to the officers from the Yelizovsky police department present, and some two men who were understood, from nowhere, and who ran so quickly to her previously, a "hospitable" home for him… Then, in the bullpen, he signed several more multi-page protocols on each page, and they led him into a dimly lit cell, where there were only wooden bunks that reclined from the wall, polished to the very yellowing of wood. As long as you stay in this cell, if you behave normally, otherwise we will give you to use in the next cell to the three murderers, the sergeant on duty at the Yelizovsky detention center threatened.… "I'll tell you everything, just…" Nikolai asked the officer, wiping away his tears. "Yes, you've already told us everything," the police officer retorted long ago, confident of the success of his plan. – Comrade officer, I'll tell you everything at the vocational school, who smokes drugs, who fucks underage girls, how the director steals food home… – I tried, the detainee will curry favor. – Yes, we already know everything without your information.… Sit down and think some more…" one of the officers commanded him. The IVS officer on duty, taking him from Nikolai, took all his old clothes and everything that Ksyusha had given him earlier, put them in a plastic bag and threw three sizes too big black convict clothes without a belt on the floor. He felt so sorry for his clothes: they took off his new denim trousers, and his favorite T-shirt with a portrait of Dean Reed, which the sailors gave him when they were on a tour on the KamLine longboat, and also colored underpants and even socks with white sneakers. They took away his clean and all new clothes, which Ksyushka, who was generous with gifts, periodically gave him for his efforts on Saturdays and now betrayed him like that in an instant. Truly, a bitch! When the lock in the cell door clicked, Nikolai felt so lonely, so scared, so sad, he even shed tears again, wiping a tear from his rounded Asian cheeks with the black sleeve of his convict robe. But no one saw this weakness of his anymore. – For, what is all this to me? He thought bitterly, sitting down on his cold, mattress–free folding bed. At about eleven o'clock, a handsome young man in his thirties with a silver earring in his right ear and a large gold ring on his right hand was put in his cell.… – What were you detained for? He immediately asked Nikolai, who was young and inexperienced in such matters. – Yes, there was a fight at the dance, my girl was molested by a sailor, – Nikolai came up with his own version literally on the move. – Yes, you're lying, the cops have already told me everything. I was arrested for rape, yes. I know! I don't envy you soaring. Now your ass is going to work hard here, yes, and probably now, he's starting to get closer to his ass.… – Well, what should I do, I told them everything, as it really happened. That she invited me herself, and then, when her husband came from the sea, she began to brazenly blame everything on me so that he would not kill her and also lie like that. He even shot. A stray bullet hit me in the head," Nikolai sincerely defended himself. – Yes, and who will believe in your childish babble now? You fucked her, didn't you, and I think you fucked her for real, not virtually? That's all – the evidence is complete in the hands of the local cops and, probably, your sperm will be easily detected there! Well, do you have a lawyer? " What is it? " the guest asked… – Yes, what a lawyer. My scholarship is only three hundred rubles. And for three hundred rubles, a lawyer wouldn't even cross the threshold of a cell," Nikolai explained unhappily, still sobbing softly.… "Just don't tell anyone. I have a cop I know here, if you help him, he can resolve the issue with his superiors and easily destroy all the documents and protocols.… – No, I can't! – Nikolai immediately began to refuse, – and the guys at the vocational school will laugh at me then.... – So you want to go to hell for the whole 12 years, so that they keep you in the zone for Masha, right? Then, fuck… you'll get them, not just cops… you got it, you idiot… – And, who is this cop? … – Yes, don't rush it! You'll find out later. Tell me, do you agree? And his hand went to Nikolai 's hip.… The guest habitually watched how the frightened kid would behave, what reaction he would have to everything that was happening now, now and here… At two o'clock in the morning, the cell door opened easily without creaking. – Grigoriev, for questioning by the investigator. Grigoriev was taken out, and Nikolai was once again left alone in a gray, dimly lit cell at night… Nikolai closed his brown eyes and began to imagine being transferred to the next cell to murderers and drug addicts. How they quickly undress him, how the convict's black trousers without a belt easily and quickly slip off him, how a sharp sharpener appears at his throat and how their thick and dirty f… and without obvious resistance they penetrate one by one into his now completely unresponsive body.... He literally shrank from the pain in his lower abdomen and felt such hopelessness at those moments, and even such animal fear, that he decided immediately it would be better to make a noose out of the sheet and end his life here right away.... While he was tearing the thin and white sheet, he did not know that he had been closely watched all this time, and he had not even managed to tear off the first strip when the cell door opened and the loud voice of the attendant: "I've called you in for questioning!" …Against the wall! … Hands back!…Go!… Another investigator was already sitting in the office, he was about 30 years old. "Well, have you thought about Grigoriev's proposal?" he asked confidently, assuming a positive answer and full agreement. "I agree, comrade officer," Nikolai promised through tears and knelt down. – It's good that you're Kolya, Nikolasha is so understanding and also incredibly obedient. But we don't need your quick consent, we need your real work and your actions…" and he thought. – Let's do this. I know you're a smart guy, and I think you're going to cooperate with us honestly… now you're going to sign these non-disclosure documents.… You will receive a cash payment, which will be transferred monthly to your savings account while you are studying, and then, when you graduate, we will give you the savings account, and you are a rich guy. You don't have to talk about anything with your friends, what happened here and that you will continue to help us. When we need you, they will definitely find you. Everything that you will see in vocational school and know in your school will be reported to us, but without fantasies and without that nonsense of your childhood. This daddy, look at all the protocols here without a date and remember everything, there is no statute of limitations for this article, we can always easily enter the date into this or another protocol and start everything all over again until a fair Trial… I can put you on the All-Union wanted list at any time, or even through Interpol, and then… Then, you know, you'll make a full-fledged noise for all 12 years, or even fifteen years, you're guaranteed, and also, we'll remember Anna, who is only 15 years old in Tilichiki this summer, remember there in Kultushny, now she already seems pregnant, and we'll prove that the baby is She has yours, and she conceived it before the age of 14, and you know that's worse than rape – it's already the seduction of a minor and your sexual intercourse with a minor.… "I agree to everything," and the rapist himself has bitter tears in his eyes again.… "That's fine. Just don't try to kick like an ignorant heifer, Nikolasha. They don't leave us that easily. Do you understand that? "Yes, comrade officer," Nikolai rejoiced, he still did not fully understand what was wanted of him, and what kind of work was needed from him now.

– Don't get down on your knees and don't sincerely thank me here and now. When we need you, we will definitely find you, be sure of that, and we will call you if we wish.… Now you go to the cell, and stop tearing that sheet, you're an adult, mature, smart guy, you want to live, fuck the girls, yes, and tell the guys in the morning that you were in a supermarket and put a bottle of vodka in your pocket, and even a pack of cigarettes, and you were arrested for petty theft. Everything necessary has already been attached to the protocol, and the witnesses even signed it. When the fine arrives in the mail, you will pay it without delay. Here's the money for you, sign here in the statement.…In the morning, they'll give you all your clothes. Is everything clear to you? – just to be on guard , the officer asked again…

4

5

.0.

Nikolai,

do

you

remember

me?

And after these memories, it was only now that those words of the militia captain reached Nikolai. – Well, here's Nikolai! Our humble Kolya, he remembers me now. I am no longer a lieutenant, as I was then, but a militia captain. Yes, here's your personal passbook in the safe. Look, honestly, as we said, 123 thousand have already been credited to you here, so I think you have enough money for a 30-horsepower Yamaha now. We keep all our promises faithfully, as we promised you, and you must not forget us or let us down in any way.… "Thank you," Nikolai hastened to say. – We agreed, no such inappropriate thanks. This is the usual payment for your work, and there, not long ago, you were credited with your extraordinary award for the red book gyrfalcons. Just don't be offended that you were called to the camera. Well, it's more truthful here. It's more natural this way. I'm going to ask you, we're developing an apartment here in Nizhny Tilichiki, but you know, because you've been there more than once, Vladislav Paramonov and Anton his son. When all your guys get there to smoke weed, give us a hand. – By the way, who runs after the mowers and how long, as a rule, is he absent? Nikolai shrank into a chair, either out of fear or from the fact that he guessed about the full knowledge of the cop of their hut.… "If you're only in front of me, don't yule at all here and now. I'm sure this is probably your friend Alexey or his brother Dimka… and, have you ever thought, maybe they, like you, both work for us? You don't think so, do you? And so, to refresh your chicken memory, look at these colored photos with young Germans from this colored bag, you will recognize yourself with their shit in your mouth.... You don't want them to be accidentally dropped in a store or in your friends' apartment, do you? – I understand everything, Yuri Borisovich, – Nikolai clearly did not want that long-standing Yelizovsky compromise on him to be known to his local friends, who considered him an ordinary straight man equal to all of them. And like a frog under the gaze of a boa constrictor, he continued to press his broad neck into his equally broad shoulders, shrinking in size almost twice on the chair. – Alexey Vayamretyl usually collects money from us and then brings the packaged plane trees himself, no more than five pieces each time, about 25-30 minutes, or even 40 minutes after he leaves the apartment. But he always leaves alone and doesn't take anyone with us. I never once watched where he was going. Once I tried to go with him, but he categorically forbade me, saying that in that case nothing would happen. Even a young militia captain thought a little, now thinking more about the frailty of existence than about completing the task, as he was confident of success, and he had long had information not only from this Nikolai. Someone else tapped on their own, having also been recruited in vocational school and bought into the indulgences, and of course the "ball" money, and the young ones always lack it. "It means it's not far away," and he turned to Nikolai, who had calmed down somewhat, and now expressed his thoughts aloud. – And, you don't need to glow at the same time, Nikolasha. Your task, when he leaves the house for another dose, is to go into the bathroom and shine a lighter at the window. No one will know anything: he was just lighting a cigarette in the toilet, because nothing was ordinary or out of the ordinary. Yes? And everything else doesn't concern you, even if you get arrested with them. You know, this is already our daily job. I understand that you feel sorry for your buddy.… – Yes, you will receive this little green passbook from Fyodor Viktorovich in September, and you will tell the guys that social pedagogue Irina Vitalievna sent it to you. You're the one who got the pension for your lost parents. You can order a boat motor through Valentin Stepin, the local sergeant, you know him, he went fishing with you last summer. He will know where to transfer the money and tell you, and we will send you a new Yamaha 30 horsepower outboard motor from the city. So now you're the richest of your guys, okay? – Thank you! – now, rather briefly, Nikolai hastened to thank his benefactor for the second time. – You don't have to thank us all the time, Nikolai, I repeat to you! – the captain warned sternly. – This is our job. Nikolai, and try to do your part of the work as agreed and help us, Fyodor Viktorovich will decide everything else with you. You know him, and don't say anything to anyone, you know. All communication is through him…

46.0

Such

a

prophetic

and

such

a

casual

acquaintance.

Alexander Yakovlevich Ugolev met Alexei Vayamretyl when, as usual, he took his photographs of the Koryak ensemble "Norgali" at one of the gala evenings that took place in late autumn at the regional House of Culture in the Tilichiki regional center, in the very north of the Kamchatka Peninsula. Going out into the fresh air for a smoke break, he didn't really smoke, but he was twirling a beautiful Japanese lighter in his hands, which were not available in local stores, and expensive Parliament cigarettes. Seeing an expensive pack of cigarettes, two rather young dancers from the Norgali dance ensemble, led by the choreographer of the regional House of Culture Tropareva Raisa Ivanovna, Alexei's cousin, and the guys immediately approached him, sweating, and asked in unison for a cigarette, if possible. The dancers' faces were quite sweaty, small droplets of sweat evenly covered their tanned, one could also say young and swarthy, like all coastal Koryaks, the dancers' skin and gave them a pair of long filtered cigarettes. Then Alexander Yakovlevich asked them to pose a little and take pictures in memory of this evening, and in memory of their chance meeting. The guys agreed with sincere pleasure, posing casually in front of the lens, while drawing comic grimaces on their young faces for memorable photos, trying to continue the recent stage action that they had previously created with their feet, and now they were doing the same thing with their faces, transforming into some unearthly creatures. The guys immediately asked to take photos at the same time for their favorite girls, and for several prints personally as a keepsake. Alexey was looking with interest at a small and rather compact Samsung Digital U-CA-501/506 digital camera on a small screen, which immediately showed their pictures taken by Alexander. "Couldn't you give it to me," Alexey Vayamretyl asked, pointing with his right finger and rather childishly naively. – And on his young face there was such a childish smile of complete trust, which easily betrayed his almost childish cunning, and betrayed his slight cunning, and his special life, all his inexperience, and maybe even his lack of adaptation to the whole outside of his boarding school life, which could be only those kind of pretty young guys. And at that time, his young face expressed sincere purity and genuine openness to the world around him by almost all the local northern peoples. After all, they have long established that when literally everything is common in a deer herd and you can't refuse a guest, use something, just like when you come to visit yourself, they can do the same to you, and they won't be able to refuse you either. Both the eldest and his practiced gaze showed that he was a semi-orphan, and in this period of his manhood he still needed a real senior male hand and real psychological male support. – You understand, Alexey, that we don't know each other or are related to each other to that extent, and I think you also understand that you didn't deserve such an expensive gift with your dancing and winning creative contests. At the same time, I'm not telling you and there is no definitive answer, remember, I'm not telling you now. And, I sincerely hope, and I believe that over time, maybe when our real male friendship arises and there is a real reason, you will probably receive a gift, maybe even better than this camera, but for this, as you understand, on the one hand, you need hard and long work from your still so young souls, and it's understandable for some time, which allows us to test the strength of a real male friendship, if it arises between us over time," the elder explained. "I will do my best to earn your friendship and full trust," Alexey looked straight into his eyes, without blinking, and spoke so sincerely, already mentally imagining how the elder was giving him this valuable and desirable thing for him now. And now it didn't matter to him what kind of thing it was, it was important to him that it was given to him and that was it. – I would like to hope that it will be so. In my opinion, that would be great of you, Alexey, but it won't "rust" for me," he confidently shook Alexey's stiff and slightly wet hair, wondering how it could be that Koryak has dark hair and such deep grayish-greenish eyes, such tanned skin on his face and such The white skin of his body, which he could clearly see under the hood, was easily sliding off his sweaty shoulders, and his neck was visible, and his hairless chest, still rising from his rapid breathing, was under the summer reindeer hood. His acquaintance, as always in areas with extreme climates, was quite casual and, despite his will, quickly moved into that phase when, after the first glance, real male friendship and sometimes loyalty arise between people, regardless of your age, your gender, and even your status or previous education. His current acquaintance with the dancers was quite casual and real, as both guys looked with admiration at Alexander Yakovlevich, as the older one, who not only treated them to expensive Parliament cigarettes, one of them, smaller, and older and stockier, was the first to identify himself as Max Kukushkin, and the second was taller Alexey Alexandrovich Vayamretyl was slender with an unusually thin bone, like a real ballet dancer Nuriev. – In translation, my last name means – lying on a fast river, or rather – lying on the water –nilgykyn mymyl, – Alexey quickly explained. The very first surname of Max Kukushkin, for Alexander Yakovlevich, did not require a complicated local linguistic interpretation, special commentary, or even translation or some kind of explanation – it literally spoke for itself from the first syllable. For the last six years, mainland cuckoos have often been singing in spring on the slopes of the hills in Tilichiki. Is this related to the general warming of the climate on planet Earth, which has long been stated when drafting the Kyoto International Protocol and then the treaties, is it related to the greenhouse effect from the multitude of thermal power plants and the burning of coal and other hydrocarbons in them, or may it be due to the uncontrollable solar eleven, thirty-three years or those cyclical repeating two hundred and seventy-year solar cycles was not clear to him. And we know that the Sun and its energy transmitted to us are not commensurate in comparison with the activity of a small earthly person, even if six billion of them are not commensurate. Our Sun is a colossal natural, eternally burning, unique natural thermonuclear "stove" that is changing rapidly, literally before our eyes, and above all, it affects the planets around it and naturally also affects the climate on planet Earth. But man and all of humanity, even if it is already seven billion strong, are just a handful of small "ants" for such global and cosmic planetary processes as the thermal balance of our Earth itself. But, this southern cuckoo bird arrived in these northern Kamchatka territories, it is unknown how and when, and settled here quite quickly, and probably does not feel bad if it sings in early spring for the fifth spring and announces to everyone who wants to hear its spring singing here about their long life century and forgot about it. once Alexander Yakovlevich asked the guys if the guys had heard this bird on the slopes of the Tilichik hills this spring, and how many years it counted with its cheerful spring singing to each of them this year. Alexander Yakovlevich asked the taller Alexei Alexandrovich about the history of his purely Koryak, or rather, his Namylan surname. – Vayamretyl, but he could not clearly and accurately convey its origin and full semantic translation from the Namylan, which was spoken in their native Branch, his native village, which, like many things in Russia, was closed back in the late 70s and early 80s of the last century by the decision of the Olyutorsky district party committee and Leonty Afanasyevich Chaika, the then first secretary, quickly and easily reported to the Kamchatka regional party committee about the relocation of all local residents to the villages of Khailino, Vyvenka and the district center of Tilichiki village. Yes, was it then that only the village of Branches was closed in the Olyutorsky district? And, the village of Kultushnoye, and the 4th base and the 8th base, and the village of Verkhniye Pakhachi, but you never know how many villages and towns across the country were closed then, and we must admit the goals were so good then. They sort of justified everything. That the people need to be closer to civilization, the people need comfort, the people need civilization. But it turned out that the people were moved closer to vodka, closer to debauchery and everything that the psyche of these literally virgin northern peoples could not withstand, accustomed to living a fairly measured life, not at all able to resist the onslaught of modern, civilizational and all these global challenges. Yes, they also have this "civilization" invented by someone in the form of a mostly empty Cultural Center, a half-empty kindergarten, half-staffed not only by children, but also by school teachers and a store, no matter how much it is required. And, from the village of Kultushny, which is not far away, they should run to the store in the neighboring village of Tilichiki, an hour of good travel for a young and still young messenger. It's important to have money. And if you don't have the money, you can sell the bunny out of the loop, or even exchange the skin of a yellowish fox for a bottle of local food processing vodka. And the fact that the exchange is not at all equivalent, and the fact that their own intracellular enzymes in almost all of them are not tuned to digest this imported vodka properly, they cannot, this may be a separate conversation for sophisticated and gray-haired sci