1.
– Yurчик, get up! It's time for school.
Mom shook her son. Then she turned him on his side and grabbed his wrist to check his health, but Yurчик broke free and rolled over to the other side.
– I don't want to go to school.
– Get up, or you'll be late.
Understanding that he had to go to school anyway, Yurчик lay there a bit longer, then shifted and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. Life support devices were nearby on the nightstand. With his unsteady hand, the boy fumbled and put on his entertainment headphones, connected them to his device, and shuffled to the bathroom.
After washing his face, the drowsiness vanished. Yurчик hopped onto a stool and started devouring his breakfast: a drink called 'Mighty Irtysh' and a sandwich with a sausage flavor. He was eating while lowering one of the lenses of his entertainment goggles to admire his drawing. Very beautiful, you know: a sunset between the city antennas. Yurчик had drawn it himself yesterday and posted it on the 'Global Children's Playground.' No one helped him, not even his dad.
But what is this??? Under the drawing – a comment from user Dimbo. The comment reads: 'Mutant draws.'
Out of anger, Yurчик's lips trembled. He knew this Dimbo – Dimka Burov, since kindergarten. That boy was two years older than Yurчик and was in the third grade at the same school. An unpleasant type! Now – after all these years since kindergarten! – Dimka Burov remembered that Yurчик was a mutant and wrote it in the comment. Just so that all the followers could see! What a memorable jerk!
Mom suspected something and asked:
– What happened?
But Yurчик had already collected himself and shook his head with a mouth full of food, like,
‘Nothing, everything's fine.’
Mom doesn’t need to know how terrifyingly he plans to take revenge on Burov for revealing the secret. He would probably engage him in a deadly intellectual duel, as a result of which Burov's clear reasoning would overheat and break down, while Burov himself would remain a fool for life. Serves him right for meddling on the 'Global Children's Playground' with stupid comments!
His mood was hopelessly spoiled, his lips still trembled, but the daily life task was set. Lost in thoughts about his upcoming revenge, Yurчик quickly finished his breakfast and stuffed his school supplies into his backpack.
– Good job, always be this obedient, – praised mom from the hallway.
In fact, Yurich was not obedient: he was determined and goal-oriented. But his mother was an adult and didn’t understand much. In a habitual manner, she felt her son, checking if everything was in place: the distractions with the entertainment on his head were firmly secured, his health was intact on his wrist, his clear mind was under his armpit, and the educational tools were in his backpack. Everything was in place.
– Shall we go? Yes, before I forget. Dad will pick you up after school today.
Yurich didn’t respond, he just slipped his hand into his mother’s warm one. They left the apartment and headed to school.
2.
Before classes started, Yurich didn’t look for his offender, because the initial plan – to measure intelligence – was completely unsuitable. The boy considered himself smart – and to be honest, even very smart – but how could a first grader’s clear mind compete with a third grader’s clear mind?! That was impossible for anyone.
Just as Yurich began to think about how to deal with Burov, biology started.
Lily Borisovna, a plump and strict biology teacher, was explaining evolution. What evolution is, the teacher had explained in the previous lesson, but Yurich had forgotten. However, who cares?!
– Look, children, how functionally our body is structured, – Lily Borisovna was encouragingly narrating, peeking with one eye into the entertainment. – Every hollow and bump on a person is in its place. For example, the armpit. In fact, the armpit has a clever design. Notice how closely the arm fits to the body – it’s not for nothing. Nature specifically provided a protected compartment on both sides so that people could store… What do people store under their armpits, Kovalyeva?
Kovalyeva jumped to her feet and fluttered her eyelashes.
– What do you have under your armpit, Lenochka? – the teacher asked again.
Kovalyeva's eyes, half her face, tilted towards her armpit and began to fill with tears.
‘What a fool!’ – thought Yurich, watching with curiosity.
– Sit down, Kovalyeva, – sighed the biology teacher. – Reshetnikov, what do people store under their armpits?
Reshetnikov – that’s him, Yurich.
– They store clear minds, – Yurich grumbled angrily, without getting up.
– Correct, Reshetnikov. But you must answer the teacher while standing. Repeat it again, as it should be.
He had to get up and repeat. Lily Borisovna nodded in satisfaction and continued:
You see how great it turns out. On one hand, the hand and ribcage protect the mind from injuries, while on the other hand, the mind ventilates the living tissues of the armpit with the built-in fan. A magnificent design solution created by nature itself. The same can be said not only about the armpit. For example, the wrist... With these words, the biologist raised her hand to head level. The first-grade students watched the proceedings with melancholy.
Hey there! shouted someone from the back rows, a clever one.
That's right, so it can wear the device. If the palm were narrow, the device would surely fall off the hand to the ground. But the palm is wide, so the device holds perfectly on it. Nature took everything into account beforehand: including that people would someday invent personal devices and where they would wear them after the invention.
Yurchik listened to Lilia Borisovna but was thinking about Dimbu's treachery. What if he wrote something snarky in the comments to his post on the 'Global Playground'? Just so Burov would choke with anger and swear never to associate with Yurchik for the rest of his life. A wonderful idea, by the way.
In class, it was forbidden to lower the glasses for fun without permission, but Yurchik couldn't wait. Waiting for the break was just too long. The boy ducked his head, hiding it behind the back of the student in front of him, and clicked the glasses. The mind, starting its work, vibrated slightly. A pleasant coolness streamed from the armpit.
Yurchik began looking for posts Dimbu had made on the 'Global Playground,' but he found not a single post, to his great disappointment.
'What a lazy jerk,' the boy thought, feeling a tremor in his lips.
The option of a retaliatory comment was off the table. He would have to come up with something else.
'Reshetinikov, who gave you permission to use your devices during class? Do you want me to send a message to your parents?'
The boy raised his head and saw that Lilia Borisovna had moved closer, revealing the lowered glasses on Yurchik's face. The neighboring back was no longer blocking the view. Now the biologist stood there, hands on her hips, expectantly waiting for an apology.
Lily Borisovna shouldn't have been upset. Yurchik quickly pushed his glasses up to his forehead and, suppressing his displeasure, squeaked in the most pitiful voice he could muster:
– I'm sorry, I won't do it again.
But at that moment, he thought about how the cursed Dimka Burov would pay for everything: for the sneaky comment and for the forced apologies in biology class.
3.
The first break came, and Yurchik still hadn't figured out how to act. Defeating Dimka in an intellectual duel was impossible, and he wasn't getting published on 'The Worldwide Children's Playground'. Physically overcoming him was also out of the question – after all, he was a third grader, a huge guy.
‘When I grow up…’ – Yurchik began to fantasize...
But he quickly realized that by that time, Dimka Burov would also have grown up. When Yurchik became a third grader, Burov would be in fifth grade, to trip him up. No, the situation seemed completely hopeless.
‘Well, whatever,’ the boy decided stoically. ‘When I meet Burov face to face, then we'll see.’
At that moment, Sergey Saveliev from their class approached Yurchik, a classmate and a really cool guy.
– Shall we run around the school?
‘Maybe Dimka also runs around the school,’ Yurchik thought and agreed to Sergey's suggestion.
And they started running. In warm weather, students often went for runs – and right now, there were plenty of students outside.
Yurchik and Sergey had almost run around the building when they noticed a group of older students. They were hanging out near the entrance to the basement. It was a secluded spot, not visible from the teachers' windows and the classrooms where the main lessons were taking place.
The guys got curious, moved closer to the crowd, and peered through it.
There were two central figures. The first, a bulky guy with a rough face, was intently leaning against the wall – evidently preparing for something important. His shirt was unbuttoned down to his belly. The second, lanky and constantly snickering, held a wire with two multi-colored ports – clearly a homemade gadget.
– Ready? – the second one asked the first.
– Plug it in, – the first nodded, jutting his chin out.
The second connected one of the ports to his own gadget, and the other to his friend's makeshift device tucked under his arm. The bulky guy with the rough face twitched and shook with a mild tremor.
– Well, well? What do you see? Hurry up and tell us! – the spectators yelled.
“I see myself,” whispered the shaken giant. “But it’s somehow not very clear, blurry… Disconnect me, that’s enough!”
As the giant’s body began to jerk, his head and even the skin on his face joined in. The lanky one immediately disconnected the wire and slapped his friend on the cheeks. He was in a jelly-like state but slowly started coming to. The crowd began to speak all at once:
“He lasted about four seconds!”
“We’ve made contact!”
“Smooth connection, directly!”
At that moment, Yurich and Seryoga were noticed.
“And what are you, little ones, doing here? Scram from here!”
The little ones lowered their heads and dashed toward the school entrance. The boys didn’t understand what the older students were up to, but felt it was something forbidden, something bad. Yurich imagined again how the giant trembled, connected to someone else's clear thought, and shivered. He would need to ask his dad what it means to 'make a direct connection.'
“Yes, I need to ask,” Yurich promised himself and immediately forgot, as the spring sun was so bright and the fluffy clouds in the sky.
4.
Next was gym class.
In gym class, Yurich didn’t have high hopes, and he felt a little sad. He was changing into his gym uniform in a strong… what’s it called when your legs feel like lead and your thoughts are drifting off? Proclamations, perhaps?
In short, Yurich didn’t like gym class, oh, how he didn’t like it!
Not even the energetic shouts could lift his spirits:
“Up! Up! Up!”
That’s what the gym teacher shouted, clapping in time with his hairy hands, while the students in their gym uniforms rushed into the hall and lined up.
“Now we’ll check the homework,” announced the gym teacher when everyone was lined up by height, boys separately, girls separately. “Approach one by one with your right hand extended.”
The students took turns stepping out of line with their right hand extended. The gym teacher connected them to the fitness diagnostic tool and read their physical activity from the past week.
“Move more,” he said to one student. “Movement is life. One person didn’t move much and ended up dead.”
The student nodded sadly and trudged back.
“You did well, you moved actively,” the gym teacher said to another student. “Keep moving like that for the rest of the week.”
The other student smiled and returned to the line with a spring in his step.
Yurchik's physical activity was within normal limits – he often ran around the school and also in the hallways.
– Well done, you were active! Although you have an outdated model of tizard. A solid five plus for your physical activity.
Yurchik blossomed with praise. Perhaps PE isn't such a bad subject after all, as it initially seemed. Let's see what the PE teacher has planned for the second half of the lesson!
After checking the homework, a sports competition was to be expected. And it happened. Putting diagnostic tools aside in his sports bag, the PE teacher clapped his hands again, drawing the students' attention:
– And now, paired fencing!
Wow, they hadn't done fencing in PE classes yet! The class perked up, eagerly watching as the PE teacher pulled out a gaming console with protruding brand ports from his bag. A sticker featuring dueling musketeers was visible on the console.
– Everyone, split into pairs!
With the pairing, a lively commotion started. Finally, everyone paired up and lined up, waiting for the fencing duels.
– Step up!
The first pair of excited opponents approached. With thick fingers, the PE teacher connected the tizard strapped to the kids' wrists to the fencing console and pressed the start button. The fencing console buzzed energetically and soon displayed the result.
– You won, congratulations.
The winner, receiving a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, hopped up with hands raised and yelled something indistinguishable.
– And you, – the PE teacher addressed the frowning loser, – need to pay attention to your reduced reaction speed. If it weren't for your slow reaction speed, you could have won.
The first pair yielded to the next, a girls' match featuring Lenka Kovaleva. To everyone's surprise, the console awarded victory to her. Everyone gasped, and Lenka opened her big eyes wide and began to cry with happiness.
‘Funny,’ thought Yurchik.
But right now he wasn't thinking about Kovaleva – it was his and Seryoga's turn.
Connecting to the fencing console, Yurchik squeezed his eyes shut and tensed his muscles, but still lost.
– Tell your parents to buy a new tizard, – advised the PE teacher. – Simple physical activity won't help here, the device needs to be upgraded. At least let them upgrade it.
Yurchik knew that his device was not the latest model. But what can you do? They aren't cheap, and it's not practical to buy a new one every year! His parents have the same models as he does, and they're just fine with them.
The boy wanted to feel upset, but he looked at the happy face of the winning Seryoga and changed his mind. After all, what's the difference, especially for a mutant?!
5.
Programming is Yurchik's favorite subject because they allow entertainment during programming class. Plus, Ivan Klimovich, the programming teacher… He's quite the joker, and the students adore him.
Ivan Klimovich, tall and skinny, entered the class with a mysterious smile and pretended to be outraged right away:
— Why are the glasses up? This is a programming lesson.
The class joyfully adjusted their glasses.
— Launch the visual studio.
The class whispered the launch words. Along with everyone, Yurchik pronounced the magical words in unison, and after a brief pause, the visual studio opened. From the depths of the source code emerged the Assistant Programmer, waved at Yurchik and asked:
— Create a new project? Load an existing one? Change account settings?
— Hold on… — the boy waved him off, trying not to miss the teacher's assignment.
Everyone opened their visual studios and waited for the next instructions.
— Today you need to program… — Ivan Klimovich made a significant pause, — … you need to program a cart.
The class gasped.
— What's a cart? — someone asked.
— I don't know, — Ivan Klimovich readily explained. — Go to an unknown place and bring back something unknown. But you still have to program the cart. Let's see what you learned in kindergarten. Twenty minutes for programming, then we'll review what everyone got. This is a test assignment, and I won't be giving any grades.
Ivan Klimovich sat down at his desk and pretended to be bored.
The class exchanged glances and started to fidget. Someone began murmuring the assignment out loud, while others discussed it among themselves. What kind of cart, really? And how do you program it? Yurchik had an idea: what if he took some previous assignment and called it a cart? After all, such a word doesn’t exist anyway!
He nudged Seryoga with his foot.
— How are you going to program it?
Serega whispered in response:
– I’ve already sent the Assistant to take a look. He says the means of communication was some old thing. I’m going to program a new light for it right now. Just come up with something of your own, or else Ivan Klimovich will guess if we do it the same way.
– I’ll think of something, – Yurчик grumbled and sulked.
Serega didn’t need to say anything. After all, Yurчик, with his notable intellect, would come up with something. As a last resort, they could ask the Assistant.
Yurчик glanced at the Assistant, who was hovering around in the entertainment zone waiting for user input, and cleared his throat lightly.
– What shall we do? – the Assistant eagerly asked.
– A new project.
A clean and enticing window for a new project appeared in the entertainment zone.
– Program the cart.
The Assistant twitched and rubbed his hands in impatience.
– What’s a cart?
– Don’t you know? – Yurчик was unpleasantly surprised.
– No.
– Look it up in the search engine.
The Assistant pressed his lips together. Yurчик knew that studio assistants don’t like to consult search engines, but the boy had no choice: he needed to urgently think of something to program. The search engine would have the answer – those guys know everything.
The consultation with the search engine took about ten seconds. Upon returning, the Assistant reported:
– An ancient software communication tool, commonly known as a messenger. A diminutive name.
“Messenger!” – Yurчик snorted in outrage at the silly word.
No, he didn’t want messengers. Moreover, Serega was programming a new light for him.
– Are there other meanings?
The Assistant was absent for another second, and when he returned, he displayed an image of an unfamiliar device to Yurчик.
– A primitive wheeled device for movement powered by horse traction, – the Assistant explained.
– A device! Powered by horse traction! – Yurчик rejoiced. – Now I understand. I need to write a control program for this device.
– Done, – said the Assistant.
The studio filled up with five million lines of source code.
– And what does this program do? – Yurчик asked cautiously.
– It controls the cart.
Next to the large Assistant, a small one appeared.
There he is, my little one, the big Assistant said lovingly as he stroked the small one on his curly head. He specializes in carts. He is familiar with all their types. He can design his own original types. Being integrated into the cart's computing system, he efficiently and safely pilots it. He possesses abilities for self-development and self-replication.
The little assistant nodded his curls, confirming what his father had said.
Hearing this, Yurich became very upset.
Why did you reproduce again? he asked the big Assistant, his voice trembling. Didn't I ask you not to reproduce? I strictly forbade it last month. I asked you to create a control program for the cart, and what have you done?
Ivan Klimovich, may I?
The boy reluctantly tore himself away from communicating with the unruly student. Standing in the doorway, looking very serious, was the school doctor. It was evident that she was about to announce something important.
Unfortunately, I must take the class for a medical examination.
Ivan Klimovich raised his hands, calling upon the heavens as witnesses:
How can this be, Maria Eduardovna?! We are programming!
You may let two people go at a time. No more than five to seven minutes for each pair. This is the principal's order.
Ivan Klimovich grumbled a bit more, but ultimately agreed. The principal's order is not something even a programming teacher can dispute, yes.
First desk, you're up.
Yurich hurried. He and Seryoga were sitting at the third desk from the door – that meant only about ten minutes left to program. In that time, he needed to convince the big Assistant to erase the little one and code something more practical. At least a thermometer to measure horse temperature.
6.
Yurich and Seryoga entered the school infirmary with great caution. First graders had already undergone medical examinations before, so they knew what to expect. Seryoga was thoughtful and focused, while Yurich... Well, he had nothing to fear!
Yurchik discovered he was a mutant back in kindergarten, during a medical examination. Incidentally, Dima Burov, who was two groups older, was also present at that memorable check-up. It was from there that this rascal learned about the mutant and remembered it. I remember the kindergarten doctors were also amazed by Yurchik's exceptional abilities and discussed them for a long time.
– Does it hurt, boy? Can you do a squat? Is your head spinning?
When Yurchik's dad came to pick him up and the teacher told him about Yurchik, he advised:
– Hey, kid, pretend next time. Act like everyone else, and then no one will pay attention to you.
Since then, Yurchik only pretended during medical check-ups. And right now, he tried to maintain a tense expression like Seroga's. Meanwhile, he was glancing around to see what was happening.
In the medical room, besides Maria Eduardovna, there were an unfamiliar nurse and doctor. From the hospital – Yurchik guessed. The doctor sat at a table where medical examination tools were laid out.
– So, who’s first? – said Maria Eduardovna, addressing Seroga, who was sitting closer. – Sit on the chair and show me your right hand.
Seroga turned pale and extended his right hand. Maria Eduardovna took his hand gently and stroked it lightly. Then she carefully clicked Seroga's health indicator. A nurse stood nearby with ammonia ready.
Having lost his health indicator, Seroga turned pale and began to breathe rapidly. Yurchik understood him: if something happened, the health indicator wouldn’t help anymore. Of course, they were in the school medical room, and the doctors were nearby, but anything could happen to one’s health, and that 'anything' still needed a diagnosis! And how to diagnose without a health indicator?! It’s dangerous for the body.
Yurchik is lucky – he’s a mutant. He understands that without a health indicator, he could catch a life-threatening condition, yet he’s not scared at all. Many people, if deprived of their health indicator, would faint and roll their eyes back. But Yurchik, the mutant, is sitting calmly in his chair, as if nothing has happened, feeling perfectly fine.
Maria Eduardovna unhooked Seryoga's apparatus and handed it to the hospital doctor. The doctor connected the device to electronic instruments: taking readings and testing. All this time, Seryoga, in a half-slumped state, sat on a chair and breathed in a rapid manner.
– You're fine, you can get dressed! – said the doctor after a while, returning the apparatus to Maria Eduardovna.
The school doctor carefully took the apparatus and immediately snapped it onto Seryoga's wrist, after which she patted the boy on the cheeks.
– Do you feel well?
Poor Seryoga weakly nodded. Maria Eduardovna immediately lost interest in him and turned to Yurchik.
– Extend your right hand.
Ha, Yurchik wouldn't be scared by that!
While the doctors checked his health, the boy sucked in his cheeks to depict suffering and breathed rapidly—doing everything his dad advised. There was no need for the doctors to know that he was a mutant, that he could easily do without the apparatus, and nothing would happen to him.
It seemed that Maria Eduardovna noticed something. She lowered the eyepiece and focused on him, then whispered to the doctor.
– Medical history… Immune… Case history… – fragmented snippets of incomprehensible whispers reached Yurchik.
The doctor chuckled and replied:
– Nothing surprising. It happens.
The school doctor glanced suspiciously at Yurchik but said nothing.
– You're fine, you can get dressed! – concluded the doctor.
As soon as the apparatus snapped onto his right wrist, Yurchik, cheerful and full of life, jumped to his feet and dashed into the corridor, where Seryoga, who had recovered, was waiting for him. There were a few minutes left before the break, so the boys didn't return to class but hid in the changing room, where they chatted about various things.
7.
The last lesson – history.
Well, it's a total drag, especially history teacher Ivan Yefremovich – a lanky man with a wooden posture and a perpetually glazed-over look. Of course, sometimes he tells something interesting, but usually makes students read the educational material from the instruments. Not for fun, no – from a second-hand device issued to each student at the beginning of the year from the library warehouse! No, can you even imagine such a thing?!
And now Ivan Yefremovich announced to the glum class:
In the last lesson, we studied augmented reality. Now let's consolidate our knowledge. Reshetnikov, remind us what augmented reality is.
Oh, here comes Yurchik again! Is he testing the teachers today or what? Why is he always being asked?
Yurchik reluctantly got to his feet and tried to concentrate:
Well, augmented reality is... Basically, when you're connected to entertainment while chatting. Of course, it also includes health monitoring. And it provides necessary information straight from your sleeve.
In general, that's correct, but you're presenting it clumsily, Reshetnikov, - Ivan Efremovich informed. - Take your educational device and read the chapter we studied in the last class. Let the class listen again and try to remember.
Indeed, and you still wonder why historians aren't liked!
But there was nothing else to do. Yurchik pulled the device from his backpack, found the needed historical chapter, and began to read, stumbling over the words due to inattention:
"We live in a very happy time – the era of augmented reality. But it wasn't always like that.
Before the era of augmented reality, people lived in incomplete times. They struggled to lead a meaningless existence without useful devices, which were invented much later. In those times, there were no signposts, no electronic declaimers, no online thermometers, or self-heating shoes. There weren't even basic fly repellers. If a bloodsucking insect landed on someone's neck, the person had to smack it with their hand instead of fending it off with a light and elegant press of a button, which looked extremely unhygienic.
Today, it's hard to believe, but prehistoric people did not have health monitoring devices on their wrists. This made the population deeply unhappy. When someone fell ill, there was no one to call a doctor in time. Even if the doctor made it to the sick person on time, there was no way to communicate the diagnosis – all because the sick person lacked a health monitoring device on their wrist. The mortality rate was high among the population.
Neither communication nor entertainment had been invented, and the distance of communication between people was no more than 2 meters. And what kind of communication was it? No one could send even a small picture or a cheerful song over a distance: a picture had to be drawn, and a song had to be sung by oneself. Only those in immediate proximity, usually consisting of a few people, could see a picture or hear a song. Thus, art was underdeveloped in prehistoric times.
People's armpits were empty because clear-mindedness had not been invented either. To solve delicate intellectual tasks like laying power lines or building the Egyptian pyramids, crude muscular strength had to suffice.
Realizing that it couldn't go on like this, humanity strained and invented devices for personal survival: clear-mindedness, entertainment, and communication. After that, the era of augmented reality began. Having fulfilled the dictates of evolution, people became healthy and happy.
“That's enough,” Ivan Yefremovich interrupted the reading. “By the way, children, who knows what communication devices were called before?”
Nobody knew.
“They were called telephones before.”
The class erupted in laughter.
“And there's nothing funny about it!” shouted the offended historian. “Communication devices were indeed called telephones. I'll prove it to you…”
The class continued to laugh, but now at Ivan Yefremovich.
8.
The fourth lesson ended, and the students poured into the corridor. The high schoolers had subsequent classes to attend. The younger classes were headed home—their school day was over.
Released, Yurich ran down the stairs, his mind far beyond the school boundaries, when he was bumped from the side and spun around by a crowd of third graders. It was at that moment that Yurich came face to face with Dimbu—Dimka Burov. Completely unexpectedly for both of them. It turned out that Yurich was alone, without Sergey and the other classmates, while Dimka was surrounded by a couple of friends on each side.
Burov also recognized Yurich and stopped. A triumphant grin distorted his large face. Dimka shouted, pointing a finger at Yurich:
“Mutant-artist!”
Friends on the sides chuckled, pushing the first-grader away from the general flow. They probably knew what Dima had written in his insulting comment. They must visit the 'World Children's Playground,' or perhaps Burov told his friends the story in his own way; who knows?
Yurchik blushed.
– Well, what are you going to do, mutant? Do you want to compete in intelligence? – he heard.
Dima disconnected his smart device from entertainment and patted himself under the arm, offering an intellectual duel. Yurchik knew: on any smart device, there is a display of the intelligence coefficient. The coefficient increases with every lesson attended, every book read, every smart thought heard. But Yurchik is a first-grader, and Dima is a third-grader! No chance – there's no point in trying.
Surrounded by enemies on all sides, Yurchik trembled his lips and remained silent.
– Or maybe we can measure strength? – suggested the excited Dima, extending his arm with the device.
The third-graders burst into laughter.
Yurchik knew he couldn't handle that tough guy. Burov was half a head taller than him, and his arms were noticeably thicker. And indeed, the device reflects everything accurately! If you compare their physical stats, Burov would win – he would definitely win!
At that moment, something clicked in the boy's head. Against his will, he grabbed the strong and scary Burov by the wrist, clicked the device, and pulled it off the enemy's hand. Detaching the device is not that easy; sometimes you have to struggle, but Yurchik managed on the first try, as if by order.
The laughter immediately stopped. Dima glanced at his wrist, freed from the device, and swallowed hard. Then he turned pale and leaned against the wall. His knees trembled.
The third-graders turned their gaze to the device in Yurchik's hands and reached out for it. But the boy, as if by instinct, raised the apparatus above the staircase, showing with all his demeanor that he was about to throw it down. The enemies recoiled. Meanwhile, Burov was completely losing his strength: deprived of the device, he began to quietly sink to the floor. The confused third-graders stood there, not knowing what to do.
– Here, put it on him, – the first-grader relented, returning the device. – But don’t mess with mutants again.
Unfazed by the subdued gang, Yurchik calmly descended the stairs. He felt like a winner, and his soul sang with the realization of justice. Yurchik did it, he actually did it! The day was not wasted.
“Being a mutant isn’t so bad,” the boy thought philosophically.
With that thought, Yurchik left the school, spotting his father in the colorful crowd of parents and went to meet him, waving his backpack and smiling widely.
Source: habr.com
