1.
- Where are you going? the guard asked indifferently.
- Firm "Web 1251".
- It's on the right side of the road. Yellow building, second floor.
The visitor - a student-looking boy - entered the cluttered territory of the former research institute, followed the path to the right and, following the instructions of the guard, went up to the second floor of the yellow building.
The corridor was deserted, most of the doors were unsigned. The visitor had to go through a zigzag corridor to find the right room. Finally, a door marked "Web 1251" was revealed. The boy pushed her and found himself in an office somewhat more decent than the environment outside the window.
The secretary was absent, but the director himself looked out of the adjacent door:
- Hello. Are you to us?
- I called, according to an advertisement.
A second later, the boy was escorted to the director's office. The director was in his late forties, tall, ungainly, and a bit impetuous.
“Glad to see you in my office,” the director said, holding out a business card. - I think you've come to the right place. Firm "Web 1251" has five years of experience in web programming. Our area is turnkey sites with a guarantee. Form style. Optimization for promotion in all search engines. Corporate mail. Newsletters. Exclusive design. We can do all this, and we can do it very well.
The boy accepted the business card and read: "Zaplatkin Sergey Evgenievich, director of the Web 1251 company."
- This is wonderful, - the boy smiled welcomingly, hiding the business card in his pocket. – I have great respect for web programming. I do some programming myself. But at the moment I'm interested in something else. The ad said: Literary masterpieces...
Sergei Evgenievich Zaplatkin froze.
Are you interested in good literature?
“Miraculous masterpieces,” the boy corrected. - Did you place such ads?
- Yes, I did. However, miraculous masterpieces are very, very expensive, do you understand that? It's cheaper to order a masterpiece from a good writer.
- And still?..
A spark flashed in Zaplatkin's eyes.
May I ask, are you the author? Do you want to get your hands on a miraculous masterpiece? But the thing is…
- I'm not an author.
– Do you represent the interests of the publishing house? Big?
Zaplatkin's eyes were already blazing. Judging by the inability to hide emotions, the director of "Web 1251" was a person who was addicted.
“I represent the interests of a private individual.
- A private person, that's how. Is your client interested in literature? Intends to become the author of a masterpiece, to make a writing career?
“We will assume that we intend to,” the boy barely perceptibly chuckled. “But first, I want to understand where you get miraculous masterpieces from. Invented artificial intelligence that scribbles literary works?
Platkin shook his head.
Not artificial intelligence, no. Eka unseen, artificial intelligence ... If you do not compose yourself, it will be difficult for you to understand where masterpieces come from. I'll tell you, you just have to take my word for it. The fact is that Homer, Shakespeare, Pushkin are not actually the authors of their works.
- Who then? - the boy was surprised.
“Homer, Shakespeare, Pushkin are authors only legally,” Zaplatkin explained. “But they aren't really. In fact, any writer is a receiving device that reads information from subspace. Of course, only real writers know about this, and not graphomaniacs, - the director added with hidden bitterness. – Graphomaniacs are engaged in imitation, adopting techniques from more advanced and successful colleagues. And only real writers draw their texts directly from the subspace.
“Are you saying that a database is deployed in the subspace?”
- That's it.
What is a subspace?
- In our case, a conditional figure of speech.
“And where exactly in subspace is the database stored?”
“Physically, you mean? I don't know. When you visit a site, it doesn't matter to you where the server from which the data is read is located. Access to data is important, not where it is physically stored.
- So you have access to universal information?
“Yes,” Zaplatkin admitted, smiling broadly. - Firm "Web 1251" conducted fundamental research and learned how to download works of art from the subspace directly. With their own, so to speak, forces.
The boy paused and nodded as a sign that he understood.
– Can I see product samples?
“Here,” the director took out a heavy bound bundle from the table and handed it to the visitor.
The boy opened it and laughed in surprise.
- This is "Eugene Onegin"!
“Wait, wait,” Zaplatkin hurried. - Naturally, "Eugene Onegin." Pushkin downloaded "Eugene Onegin" from subspace, so we downloaded it from there, randomly. However, the authors are often wrong. I want to say that the ideal versions of works of art are stored in the subspace, and the author's versions, for various reasons, are far from ideal. The authors do not have precise equipment, but we at Web 1251 have developed such equipment. Read the ending, if you take your time - everything will become clear to you. I'll wait.
The boy flipped to the last pages and deepened, humming from time to time.
“And what,” he asked twenty minutes later, having finished reading, “what finally happened to Tatiana?” Did she not survive the rape, or did she choose to give birth? The prince challenged Onegin to a duel? Although, no matter how he calls it, Onegin has both hands amputated.
“I don’t know,” Zaplatkin explained with vehemence. - However, this is the canonical completed story of "Eugene Onegin"! The way it is stored in subspace. And what Pushkin composed on his own is his business, his writing.
- Is "Eugene Onegin" stored in subspace in Russian? It's hard to believe.
– Do you think Eugene Onegin could have been written in Chinese, or at least in English?
The boy chuckled.
- I understand you. Ready to order a small text for trial. Let's say a poem. I think a few quatrains are enough. Do you accept orders by genre and volume?
Zaplatkin made a swallowing movement, but said:
– Must warn about the risk. I don't know in advance what will be extracted from the subspace. I can only guarantee that the text is not handmade. I guarantee the miraculous, yes.
- It's coming.
After half an hour, which was required to fill out and sign the contract, the visitor left.
Zaplatkin pulled out a smartphone from his pocket, pressed the call button and said into the phone:
- Nadya, can you talk? It seems to have pecked. Quite a small text, a few quatrains, but this is just the beginning. Let's make an appointment tomorrow. Will you prepare everything? Does he feel well?
2.
Leaving the territory of the abandoned research institute, the boy went out into the city. I had to take the tram to the subway, several stops. The boy was a little bored, but, remembering the conversation with Zaplatkin, he smiled.
In the metro, the guy sat down towards the center, got off at one of the central stations, and a minute later he was already entering one of the solid buildings with a three-meter door.
Two men in good suits were standing and talking in the corridor.
“I took the Gelendvagen,” said the first. - On the first day I scratched it, resentment. But this snitch who cut me off is going to have a bad time. I don't care about insurance. So dirty, it won't wash off.
“You will do it right,” said the second. - Only from such people there is usually nothing to take, except for insurance. At least tie up the prosecutor's office, but what's the point? Here is my case...
Having reached the right office, the intern looked in the door and asked:
May I, Comrade Colonel?
Upon hearing the invitation, he entered.
Despite the officer's rank, the owner of the office was in civilian clothes. He glanced at the newcomer from under frowning brows and asked:
- Did you go, Andryusha?
- Went down.
Andryusha passed the business card received from the director of the Web 1251 company across the table.
- What do you think? Our clients?
- I do not know what to say. A difficult case, although the firm is unremarkable. Passionate computer scientists. I recorded the conversation, I will distill it into a file and send it.
“Tell me now, Andryusha,” the colonel demanded in a low voice that did not allow for objections.
“Yes, Comrade Colonel. So yes. This is not artificial intelligence. The director of this firm, Zaplatkin, claims to have access to some kind of database stored in subspace. The database contains works of fiction, that is, literally all works.
- In what way? the colonel was surprised.
- I'm sorry, I expressed myself inaccurately. Not all. The database contains only brilliant works. Everything that is not genius is invented by people. Non-genius is composed by non-geniuses, that is, graphomaniacs, and no one composes genius. Geniuses do not compose, but borrow works from subspace. Do you understand that now I am not expressing my opinion, but the opinion of Zaplatkin?
- Well yes.
- Zaplatkin claims that the technology developed by his company allows you to download brilliant works from subspace. Directly, without interference, imagine! I think it's a blatant lie. This Zaplatkin is not in such a financial position to finance anything serious.
– Listen, Andryusha, are there any films by the Miramax studio in this database? Not filmed yet?
Andryusha looked down.
- I didn't think to ask. Preparing for questions on artificial intelligence. I'll call you back, I'll find out everything and report back.
- No need. Did you sign the contract?
- Yes, sure. Sorry for not posting right away. - Andryusha pulled out sheets folded in four from the case. - Here's the bill.
- Fine. I'll tell you to pay.
- May I go?
“Wait,” said the Colonel. - And in what language ... are these ... works? Which are stored in the subspace?
“In the language of creation, past or future. Here, to confess, Zaplatkin cut me off. He says: "Eugene Onegin" could not be written in any other language than Russian. Very convincing.
- "Eugene Onegin"?
The Colonel's voice took on a metallic hue.
- Yes sir. Zaplatkin showed me a supposedly downloaded version of Eugene Onegin with a different ending. There is such…
Don't mention this book to me.
- And yet, I don’t understand, - honestly, using a trusting relationship with the colonel, Andryusha inquired, - why did you need this Zaplatkin. Its subspace is most likely fake. The guy wants to make some money. What is the interest in Zaplatkin?
The owner of the office grinned.
- Andryusha, our country is now in a difficult information situation. We do not control the literary flow. Enemies are completely insane, their tentacles are spreading all over the Internet. Google is not in our hands, Facebook is not in our hands, even Amazon is not in our hands. All this in the face of a shortage of professional writers. But we can control them! And imagine if it turns out: all unwritten works lie in the subspace! All! Unwritten! Brilliant! And if this good will go to the enemies of the motherland? How should the supervisory authority in our face react to this, in your opinion? Tell Andryusha...
Andryusha glanced askance at the colonel and hid his eyes deeply, deeply:
- There were no conversations with Zaplatkin about anything other than literary works. However, you are right: this issue is not included in the zone of his interests. The strategic reserves of unwritten literature should belong to our state.
- Or no one, Andryusha, do you remember?
- That's right, I remember. Or our state, or no one.
- Free. Go.
Left alone, the colonel closed his eyes and relaxed, thinking about something else. Suddenly his lips twitched and whispered:
- Bastard. What a bastard this Eugene Onegin of yours is!
It was decidedly impossible to determine whether the Colonel had pronounced the famous name in quotes or without quotes.
3.
The next day, Zaplatkin visited the building of the city hospital and found the deputy chief physician, Nadezhda Vasilievna, a woman of the same age as him.
- Nadenka, hello, - said Zaplatkin, looking into the staff room. - Are you busy? I'll wait.
Nadezhda Vasilievna, surrounded by colleagues, looked up from the conversation:
- Seryozha, wait in the corridor, I'll go out now.
We had to wait fifteen minutes. During this time, Zaplatkin sat in a wheelchair set out in the corridor, read the warnings about the prevention of infectious diseases, and walked back and forth several times. Finally, the deputy chief physician appeared and made the sign "follow me." However, Zaplatkin knew where to go.
“You don’t have more than an hour, Seryozha,” Nadezhda Vasilievna was saying while they were going down the stairs. “I don’t know why I went for it. A unique case, yes, of course. However, I had no right to allow you to the patient. Help in scientific work is an excuse for fools. So what, what is a classmate? Another would turn you in spite of the dissertation. But I can not refuse you, such is fate.
- What are you, Nadya? - Zaplatkin inserted between her remarks. - I don't touch the patient at all. It becomes easier for him from these procedures, she herself said. However, do you know how much it might cost? I took a hundred thousand for one poem, half of yours minus taxes. This morning it was credited to the account. You will receive after the closing of the contract. In a couple of years, you can buy yourself a couple of clinics like this, even better.
The couple went down to the first floor, from it to the basement, where closed boxes began.
“Hello, Nadezhda Vasilievna,” the guard greeted.
They passed the guard and looked into one of the boxes, on which a sign "Semenok Matvey Petrovich" hung.
The patient was lying on the bed. His suffering face, unshaven and emaciated, with sharpened features, was beautiful with unearthly spirituality. At the same time, it did not express anything - the person was unconscious. The patient's chest heaved rhythmically under the covers, and his arms in hospital pajamas rested on top, along the body.
“Here, get it,” Nadezhda Vasilyevna threw out with some anger.
“Nadenka,” Zaplatkin pleaded. “You owe fifty thousand. Great money, between us girls, speaking. It's not my fault that miraculous works are not in demand in publishing houses. After all, you yourself invited me to transcribe heart tones, for scientific purposes.
I did and I still regret it.
- Yes, it's a sensation! Scientific breakthrough!
- Maybe. Just not in medicine. For such a breakthrough, I will be laughed at. Moreover, the theme of the doctoral thesis is approved, and its title is not: "Deciphering heart tones for the purpose of literary earnings." Will you connect the phonocardiograph yourself or will you help?
- I'll connect, Nadya. You know I've learned...
Head popped in the door.
- Excuse me, but where is the reception?
Nadezhda Vasilievna jumped up in surprise:
- This is the basement floor, the reception is on the first floor. How did you get in here? There is a security guard...
- Sorry, I got lost. Probably, the guard went to the toilet, - said the head, vigilantly looking around the box, then disappeared.
Zaplatkin, meanwhile, tried to put his arm around the deputy chief physician's shoulders.
- Nadya, be patient a little longer. Soon I will add code for free search. I will leave the note here. Of course, remote access is desirable, but there are technical problems, it takes time to solve them. In time we will unfold...
Nadezhda Vasilievna stepped back with a sigh.
Serezha, you have no more than an hour. I have to go. I'll come by in an hour and get you out of here.
- Don't worry, everything will be all right.
Nadezhda Vasilievna closed the metal door behind her.
Zaplatkin sat down on a chair and took out a laptop from the case he had brought. He took the phonocardiograph from the table, put it on the bed and plugged the plug into the socket. He stuck a wire with adhesive tape on the wrist of the immovable Matvey Petrovich Semenok. I connected the laptop with a phonocardiograph with a cord. Sighing, as before a decisive test, he flipped the toggle switch.
Multicolored curves crawled across the screen of the phonocardiograph, something pulsated unevenly. However, Zaplatkin did not pay attention to the graphics: he bent over the laptop and tapped on the keyboard, trying to achieve the desired effect.
For a long time it didn't work. Zaplatkin froze for a moment in thought and tapped his fingers again. Fifteen minutes later, he exclaimed with joy:
- Yes, let's go! Come on honey!
Soon the joyful expectation was replaced by complete disappointment.
“Not the Golden Calf!”
Zaplatkin once again read the text given out by the laptop and burst out laughing. I couldn't put it down and skimmed through a few more pages, still giggling. Then, with a visible effort of will, he returned to the interrupted occupation.
He worked for a while, then looked up from his laptop and whispered to himself:
- We need to be encouraged. God bless the memory...
Zaplatkin bent over his aching face and made several passes with his palm. Semyonok did not even blink: he remained completely motionless, although he lay with his eyes open. Zaplatkin took a deep breath and began to read Pushkin from memory:
“At the seaside, the oak is green;
The golden chain on the oak is that:
And day and night a cat scientist
Everything goes around the chain;
Goes to the right - the song starts,
To the left - a fairy tale says.
There are miracles: there the goblin wanders,
A mermaid sits on the branches ... "
Having completed the introduction to Ruslan and Lyudmila, Zaplatkin turned to his laptop and froze in anticipation.
Suddenly something changed, in any case, the curves on the phonocardiograph flinched and gave out several peaks. Zaplatkin started up:
- Let's! Let's!
After a couple of minutes, the download ended.
When Zaplatkin got acquainted with the work of art received from the subspace, he nervously drummed his fingers on the table. Once again I got acquainted and once again nervously drummed my fingers.
And, anyway, it was time to wrap up: the time allotted by Nadya for downloading was coming to an end.
“All right, Matvey Petrovich,” Zaplatkin said to the sick man. - I could have accepted something more decent from the subspace, but what is, is. Still young. Get well.
Matvey Petrovich Semyonok did not even move an eyebrow on his soulful face.
Zaplatkin folded his laptop and put it in a case. Having disconnected the Velcro from the patient's wrist, he transferred the phonocardiograph from the bed to its original place. He packed his things and began to wait for Nadezhda Vasilievna to take him out of boxing.
4.
The colonel and Andryusha got to the scientific research institute in official transport. We passed the checkpoint and in five minutes were at the office of the Web 1251 company.
Customers were immediately invited to the director's office.
- This is my trustee Alexei Vitalyevich, whose interests I represented at our last meeting, - Andryusha said.
- Very nice! Tea? Coffee?
- No thanks. Get to the point, - sitting down in the guest chair, the colonel moved his lips.
- Well, as you say, - Zaplatkin hurried. - So, the contract provided for the creation of a miraculous poem on any topic, no more than 8 paragraphs, according to clause ... - Zaplatkin looked into the contract, - ... clause 2.14. Such a poem was downloaded in full accordance with the technology developed by us. It is truly inimitable. The genre is absurdism. A very worthy poetic genre, by the way. In Russia, he was represented by the Oberiuts, at present the most worthy representative is Levin ...
- Can we see? suggested the colonel.
- Whom, Levina?
- No. What we ordered.
- Yes, of course, sorry. Here is the result...
Zaplatkin handed the colonel a printed sheet. He accepted and read aloud:
"I'm getting out of the den:
Last Friday.
I notice on the road
Grandma crazy.
She rides in the rain
On a sports bike.
Leaves fall from branches
In the yellowed spruce forest ... "
Not even halfway through, Alexei Vitalyevich threw the paper aside and asked gloomily:
- What's this?
- Your order. No worse than Kharms, - Zaplatkin encouraged himself.
- Brilliant, right?
“Genius is a vague concept. Moreover, the contract did not provide for the genius of the work, it provided for its miraculousness. Unlike genius, miraculousness is an objective concept. I assure you, this text is miraculous, in this form it is stored in subspace.
- Can you prove it?
- I can not. However, I warned your confidant about the possible risks, - Zaplatkin glanced at Andryusha. “Especially since this moment is written in the contract. Here, in paragraph 2.12 it says: The customer cannot demand from the Contractor evidence of the work not made by hands, if direct plagiarism or borrowing is not detected.
- And where should I put him?
“But you intended to use this text somehow,” Zaplatkin hesitated. All seven quatrains. I don't know... I assumed for scientific or research purposes. We are ready to provide you with a lot of texts from the subspace, both without authorship, that is, not yet written, and with authorship, for comparison with canonical texts.
- I won't take that shit.
Zaplatkin drooped.
- Your right. According to the concluded agreement, clause 7.13, in case of refusal to accept the work, the Contractor retains 30% of the amount of the transferred advance payment. Are you asking for a refund?
- Where did you get the text, I ask?
I have already explained to your colleague. The technology developed by our company allows you to download texts directly from the subspace. Subspace is a conditional concept in this case. We don't know where it is. However, we can say...
- Do you have a license?
- What? - Zaplatkin was taken aback.
– Subspace license.
- The company "Web 1251" is registered ...
- Do you have a license? the colonel moved his lips.
“I refuse to speak in that tone,” Zaplatkin grew bolder. - If you do not want to draw up an acceptance certificate, we will issue a refusal. The rest of the advance will be returned to you at any time.
Under the nose of the director of the Web 1251 firm, a magical red book was presented.
“Come on, dove,” said the colonel peacefully. - You tell us everything, honestly and without noodles on your ears. Then I will close my eyes to the lack of a license. Otherwise, you will have to travel with us to the dacha.
Andryusha, who was sitting next to him, grinned.
- To what dacha? Zaplatkin did not understand.
- To testify. And what did you think? The humor is so professional,” the Colonel explained. - Which option do you prefer?
Zaplatkin turned pale and withdrew into himself.
“I see, a sensible person, he has finished his mind,” the colonel continued. So, let me ask you the first question. What technical means do you use to download these… works of art from subspace?
Platkin hesitated.
“I know everything,” said the Colonel. - About this patient and the doctor. Interested in something else: where do you get the texts from? You pull out of the patient, or what?
“From physiological heart sounds,” Zaplatkin broke down.
- How did you discover it?
- Nadenka ... That is, Nadezhda Vasilievna ... She once called and said: there is a patient with strange heart rhythms resembling a cipher, do you want to look? She, Nadya, that is, was writing her dissertation then. And now he writes, of course ... I was still interested in cryptography at the institute. In short, I managed to decipher the heart tones, using wavelet analysis, by a finite number of spherical manifestations. Subsequently, the patient's strong tones disappeared, but by that time I had learned to intercept a weak signal in complex dynamics.
- And what, - Alexei Vitalyevich dropped contemptuously, - did you download the new "Eugene Onegin" from there or composed it yourself?
- From subspace.
“What did you expect, boy, I don’t understand?” Suppose the patient has no relatives. But eventually he will die or recover. Where to download then?
“You see,” Zaplatkin, haggard, began to explain. - In other patients whom Nadenka allowed me to examine, I did not find anything like that. But this patient, Semenok, is obviously not unique. I am sure that other patients also have signals, only unstable, difficult to decipher. Now I am working on software that would allow decoding signals from any person, even a healthy one. One person is enough, basically. I'm sure the download is coming from the same source. It's just that the speed is not limitless: the more recipients, the larger the downloaded volume.
Why did you advertise?
- First, he poked his head in with a new ending to "Eugene Onegin" at publishing houses, tried to explain. I was ridiculed. Then I decided to make an announcement: what if one of the large investors becomes interested. To get by with money - web development is tight. I need time to finish the program. It's about automatically detecting a signal from subspace, you know? Now you have to manually enter the parameters.
“Investors are interested,” the colonel grinned. Are you ready to provide your program? Or do you prefer cottage?
“Take what you want,” whispered Zaplatkin, huddled in the director's chair.
- Here are the frets. And now, please, call your friend in the hospital and arrange a date for tomorrow. I want to attend. Don't mention me, of course. Let's surprise grandma.
5.
- Hello, Seryozha. You look haggard today,” Nadezhda Vasilievna told Zaplatkin. - Let's go…
The colonel and Andryusha were waiting on the stairs, at the entrance to the basement. After waiting, they blocked the road. The colonel presented a red booklet, with the words:
Hello, Nadezhda Vasilievna. Literary Supervision, Colonel Tregubov.
- What's the matter? - the deputy head physician was surprised.
Let's go to boxing. Do not talk on the stairs ?! He,” the colonel nodded at Zaplatkin, “will explain.
Nadezhda Vasilievna glanced at Zaplatkin, who was hiding his eyes, and understood.
- Let's go.
The four of them passed the guard and went into the box with a sign "Semenok Matvey Petrovich".
The patient rested on the bed without visible changes. His unshaven face still struck with its incomprehensible spirituality, his mouth was slightly open.
- Is this one connected with subspace? Tregubov nodded. - Did you download "Eugene Onegin" through it? Well, who am I asking?
“Through him,” Zaplatkin confirmed.
- Freak!
I would still ask...
Tregubov turned reluctantly to Nadezhda Vasilievna.
– Is it necessary? Your accomplice - the development of subspace in the absence of a license, you - a malfeasance. If you don't cooperate. But no, in a couple of years you will become a saleswoman in a supermarket. How did you even think of letting this… computer guy see the patient?
- The computer scientist was engaged in scientific work, at my personal request. Doctors treated.
Does the boss know?
Nadezhda Vasilievna was silent.
- Well, how is the process going? Show me,” demanded Tregubov.
Zaplatkin pulled out a laptop and stuck a band-aid with a wire to the patient's wrist. Turned on the phonocardiograph and demonstrated the workflow.
- Download!
- It's not that fast. We need to get a signal.
“And we have nowhere to hurry.
Zaplatkin, putting the laptop on his knees, began to select the parameters. Andryusha watched him, occasionally asking again. Nadezhda Vasilievna leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Tregubov squeamishly examined the uncomplicated furnishings of the hospital box. And only Semyonok Matvey Petrovich hovered in bed above the worldly bustle in his angelic equanimity.
“Downloading has begun,” Zaplatkin smiled.
- What is pumping?
– I don’t know, I’ll google it now. And, of course, something from the Strugatskys.
- Not "Eugene Onegin"?
“No, I downloaded it earlier,” Zaplatkin explained. - I have it in a file. Do you want me to flip?
“Don’t,” Tregubov said through clenched teeth.
- Continue? The download may take quite some time.
- I don't see the need. Andryusha, get the unit.
Andryusha pulled out a medical device from his briefcase with two flat contacts the size of a man's palm.
Why do you need a defibrillator? Nadezhda Vasilyevna asked quickly. - What are you going to do?
- Not your concern.
Nadezhda Vasilievna tore herself away from the wall and shielded the patient with her body.
“I forbid the use of a defibrillator without my consent.
“Not required,” Tregubov muttered.
Nadezhda Vasilievna rushed to the exit, but Andryusha held her by the hand.
“Let me go or I’ll call the guard,” the deputy chief doctor screamed, trying to free herself.
Tregubov critically assessed both the woman and Zaplatkin, who was trying to come to her aid.
“What, work is not dear to you?”
- Road. But the patient's life is more precious.
Are we going to kill him? This thing instead of a barrel? Originally, of course ... Andryusha, let her go.
Why do you need a defibrillator? Nadezhda Vasilievna asked, straightening her dressing gown, but remaining where she was.
- Electric shock, why? A little bit won't hurt him.
- For what???
– I want to influence this… subspace. That is, through the heart. If you can go in one direction on the road, then in the other, probably? What do you think?
What does it mean to influence?
“Nadezhda Vasilievna, don’t get so excited,” Andryusha intervened in the conversation. - From Sergei Evgenievich, we received the code that he used to decrypt. Implemented a small script in the code. And set up the defibrillator accordingly. We rely on the fact that a change in the patient's heart rate is the way back to subspace.
– Why do you need a road to subspace? shrieked Nadezhda Vasilievna.
– We expect to invert the base in subspace so that the enemies do not use it. Let's replace ones with zeros, and vice versa, it should work. Theoretically, of course - no one has done this before us. If it works out, only we will have the key to the subspace.
“State interests,” Tregubov summed up harshly. – Monopoly on all information deposits on the territory of the Russian Federation. The subspace must belong to the homeland or to no one.
Zaplatkin tore his hands from his temples and asked:
- Do you intend to invert the canonical text of "Eugene Onegin"?
- Him first.
“That’s it, I can’t listen to this anymore,” the deputy head physician was on the verge of hysteria. - Where are you from, from Literary Supervision? I'm sure you can transfer the patient to the Kremlin, to any other hospital, anywhere. Translate and do with it what you want, it does not concern me. And now I will ask you to leave the hospital box.
“Okay,” said Tregubov. - Now I will leave the hospital box. But then you'll stop working at this hospital, I promise. For unlicensed development of the state subspace. Choose. Either the patient will receive a small electric shock, or the saleswoman. Well, your word...
Zaplatkin laughed nervously.
- Nadenka, let them do what they want. Unless, of course, it does not harm the patient. I beg you. With inverting nothing will work, a stupid idea. Some kind of protection is provided in the subspace - no fools did it.
Nadezhda Vasilievna made up her mind. She walked with confident steps to the bed and listened to the patient's pulse. She picked up the defibrillator and carefully examined it. Checked the settings. She turned back the covers and unbuttoned the hospital pajamas over the patient's chest. She stuck disposable Velcro for defibrillation on Semenok's hairless chest.
- One hit? she asked Tregubov.
“Enough,” he muttered.
Nadezhda Vasilievna turned on the device and with force pressed the electrodes into Semyonok's chest, one higher, the other lower. The defibrillator made a characteristic click, the patient's body shuddered slightly, graphs danced on the laptop, message windows began to fall out.
Zaplatkin jumped to the laptop, began to clear the rubble:
- A minute... a minute...
- I did what you asked. Now I ask you to vacate the treatment room, ”Nadezhda Vasilievna said hatefully in the direction of Tregubov.
- What is this? I don’t understand,” Zaplatkin was surprised, not looking up from his laptop.
- What do not you understand? Tregubov asked.
“Something has been recorded. A lot of everything, as far as the disk was enough. The disk is full. I have never seen such a powerful surge. In a couple of seconds, practically, it is still deciphered. And now - nothing, empty. There is no signal. Look how it was recorded... Well, it's Dostoevsky... But I don't know about this... Lermontov... Gogol... Oh, how interesting! Unknown poet of the 19th century. I don't know that, at least. There is a poem in the subspace, but it did not work out with the biography ... And here's another, just look ...
Movement was felt behind the bowed backs. Everyone turned around.
Semyonok Matvey Petrovich sat on the bed like an angel in the flesh, the only thing missing was a rainbow halo over his head. His open eyes, staring in surprise at those present, shone with an otherworldly brilliance. The patient stretched out his thin hand to those present and said in a weak voice after waking up:
- Fuck eight by twelve. There is nothing to eat, guys?
6.
Andryusha showed his pass at the entrance and went up to the second floor.
Two men in suits were standing and talking in the corridor.
“Yesterday I re-read Tyutchev,” the first said. What a philosophical undertone! No matter how many times I read it, I never get tired of being amazed.
“Tyutchev is a powerful lyricist,” the second one agreed. - Only a little amateur, and he himself understood this. That is why intolerance to public talk about his poetry. However, all the great poets were a little amateur ...
Andryusha reached Tregubov's office and knocked.
- Permission, comrade general?
“Come in,” a voice said.
Tregubov was clearly out of sorts.
- Was he in the hospital?
- Yes sir. Semyonok is on the mend and will soon be discharged.
- I'm talking about connection.
- We tried to connect today, together with Sergey ... sorry, with Zaplatkin. Two hours puffed, nothing happened. But Semyonok is ready to participate in experiments even after discharge. After the shift, of course: when not in the boiler room.
- Why didn't it work?
– Zaplatkin says the subspace is empty. That is, the channel itself is connected properly, but there are no texts at the other end of the connection. None. Zaplatkin suggests that the subspace was empty after the information release into our reality, as a result of exposure to a defibrillator.
- Foundations?
- Don't you notice some oddities, comrade general?
– What for strangeness?
- In behavior. It seems that people have changed in the last month.
“You’re digging in the wrong place, Andryusha. People are always the same. They should read a good book and visit the conservatory. Here's what I think. If, as you say, there has been an ejection of these ... literary texts, here from subspace, then our writers must write only miraculous books for the last month, right?
“That’s right, Comrade General.
“Then it's easy. Check how many writers have written miraculous works in the last month. If there is a lot, then it is the way it is with the ejection, as Zaplatkin says. Understood? Go check for miraculous works from the last month.
- I will do everything possible.
- Here's something else. Andryusha, the Motherland is in danger. Dan Brown has written a new novel, even worse than the previous ones. The novel is going to be published in Russia. Do you imagine circulation? Can you imagine how many new crippled souls will appear on the account of the graphomaniac? This cannot be allowed. We are here to oversee the literary process. When you're done with miraculous works, take on Dan Brown. Literary poison should not penetrate the territory of our homeland. It's better if Edgar Allan Poe is reissued, so give these bastards a hint.
“Understood, Comrade General.
- Free.
Andrew turned around to leave.
- Stop.
Andryusha stopped.
Did you do what I asked as a personal favor?
- Certainly. I beg your pardon, Comrade General. Here, I brought it. Zaplatkin printed out a second copy for you.
Andryusha took out the canonical text of "Eugene Onegin" from the bag and handed it to Tregubov.
- You can go.
Leaving the office, Andryusha hurried to the exit. He expected to run into Leninka. Cherubina de Gabriac. It was not possible to google the Apollo magazine with her poems, but there is probably a magazine in Leninka.
Source: habr.com