Chapter 1. 5. Souvenir

  She laughed a soft, velvety laugh, and her eyes lit up in a special way.

  She looked at the door and, after thinking, closed it. There was no one else in the rumpled bedroom.

  Caprice slowly approached. Without thinking, I hugged her.

  It didn't work out very well, but Caprice smiled encouragingly, shrugged her shoulders, and whispered:

  “Great job, I praise you.”

  Someone walked down the hallway, and I squeezed her tighter. Caprice closed her eyes and stuck out her lips. I immediately covered her mouth with my palm, then her eyes.

  Caprice, stunned, did not even resist, probably taking it for a manifestation of passion, and then it was too late, she fell asleep, and I went up to the attic.

  Bright large stars were burning in the sky. The wind from the bay neither increased nor decreased, it was even, it seemed that the whole space was moving from place to place.

  Lagoon with the punctual Vitamin were waiting for me. Having gathered ourselves, we set off.

  There were roofs all around.

  The moon appeared, huge. It became as light as day.

  We looked into one window.

  The new mayor's manager, Athlete, took up a weight. The supposed strongman was unable to even move it and burst into tears.

  In the neighboring window, another optimist, Office, with an elongated face, walked around the narrow attic box, stroking his hair with his gnarled hands.

  Dreams took hold of him irrevocably.

  Having sat down at the table, he first smoothly and gracefully moved his waxen fingers, like an octopus with its tentacles, spreading his limbs out to the limit in different directions.

  At school, the method initially encouraged everyone equally, inspired average hope in everyone, and many acquired the reputation of being erudite, athletes, polyglots, musicians, poets.

  Lagoon, with a complete lack of musical ear, surprised everyone - he mastered the harp. Temporarily.

  Then the method divided the students, but somehow strangely, he began to pay attention only to those who were hopelessly lagging behind.

  The entire school tribe, enjoying the favor of the method, was here, a crowd, each in his own cell of the archive storage room on the roof of the museum. The kind method did them a favor.

  The entire active group unanimously and strictly observed the daily routine and classes, and the routine in general.

  Everyone has grandiose plans, so as not to become unnecessary, superfluous, everyone seriously strives to achieve generally accepted material success at any cost in the unpredictable struggle for existence, in the meaningless race of life.

  Office continued to work on developing exemplary calligraphic handwriting in solitude instead of its usual horrific scribbles, hoping to spontaneously impress everyone with it someday, but so far the trick had not worked.

  The newly arrived student aimed for the post of clerk in the archives, which he was invariably denied due to his absolute illiteracy.

  For his initial complete unsuitability for this responsible and delicate task, he received his nickname - from the opposite.

  Or maybe for his office nature, no one can take that away from him.

  He, furiously gurgling, as if with a mouth full of water, diligently began a pompous declamation with classic oratorical pauses, and we, unable to stand it any longer, humanely retreated with laughter, not waiting for the climax.

  “Chic!” Thick-skinned Lagoon, stretching his face even more than Office, wiped away the unfeigned tears that had appeared.

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  “I saw one - no one needs to see others.”

  The slacker is lucky.

  And the school method supported, as best it could, all the laggards and heroically ignored the talented trash, as if they were unpromising students.

  The promising students settled separately on the roof of the museum, like plant seedlings in a greenhouse, under the care of an incorruptible method.

  For unclaimed talents, their patron was a real find.

  It was believed that under his watchful eye they would inevitably achieve the desired effect: they would become jewelers and weavers, acrobats and lawyers, architects and sailors, artists and firemen.

  Everyone could choose if the old concept evaporated. The content would disappear.

  Young man Hybrid put flasks everywhere.

  He was unsociable in the twilight, aiming to join the ranks of scientists.

  The bricklayer Pyramid was aggressively disassembling a children's construction set on the floor.

  You could tell he was a great professional. The future composer Symphony was swinging on a toy horse.

  There are different types among them. The tough guy Project wants to become an engineer. Build bridges.

  No one should have anything to do with him.

  The bass Ensemble was relevant.

  At the sight of the modernist, half-reality, chimeras of the artist Abstraction, Lagoon and I cautiously fell silent.

  But, on the other hand, what can anyone expect from a creator?

  An aesthete.

  The gathering continued.

  Hybrid hung over the flasks like a sorcerer, the swimmer Raft tragically plunged his head into a basin of water, seized by the desire to make a career as a diver, the bass Ensemble raised his hand pathetically, preparing to utter heavenly sounds.

  “Curtain,” said Lagoon.

  The method Absurd claimed that by means of uniform exercises, everyone can be grafted, like seedlings, with any properties.

  Everyone wants to slowly, but without wasting time, press their favorite miniature pedal in one place, and for something to grow uncontrollably in another place by all parameters.

  The mathematician Stamp saw himself as a cashier - he felt an irresistible attraction to banknotes, bills, currency.

  This untimely passion did not find support from the decent Absurd, but it was saved just in case.

  I looked into the next window. In the kitchen, at the table, a man in pajamas was sitting and reading a newspaper.

  He obviously couldn't sleep. He tore himself away from his reading, glanced out the window and froze in surprise. I stepped back.

  Lagoon, like a satyr, straddled the ridge of the roof, and the moon shone on the back of his head.

  We jumped onto a new roof.

  It was an archive. The top floor was dark and empty.

  The first office was open.

  The beams of the lanterns cut through the darkness, snatching tables and chairs from it. The atmosphere was official.

  Vitamin looked worried. He wanted to be sure that he could count on his own business.

  He always had a brilliant talent for commerce. Teaching him would only spoil him.

  Our friend Person is in the army.

  Persona's signature move is the ceremonial presentation of a business card.

  A visit is very dangerous.

  Person wrote me a letter.

  We went our separate ways around the building.

  The interior of the next office surprised me greatly. I closed the door behind me and looked around.

  There was excellent furniture along the walls, portraits on the walls: satire, farce, grotesque, holiday...

  The portraits floated past.

  Their place is in a museum.

  Or in a landfill.

  It was light because of a large aquarium, in which large fish with bulging eyes were slowly swimming.

  The light passed through brown algae, through green water.

  I expected to see documents, various useless waste paper.

  Everywhere - on tables, on cabinets, on the floor, along the walls stood stuffed monkeys.

  I did not even suspect that there were so many species. True, all the specimens were somehow short.

  They stood in different poses and looked at me as if they were alive, with their shiny button eyes.

  I looked from one monkey to another, and I had an unpleasant feeling that the specimens I was not looking at were exchanging glances behind my back.

  With some apprehension, I touched one stuffed animal.

  The fur was soft, silky. I ran my hand over the ugly but powerful shoulders, touched the eyes.

  I could not determine what they were made of, but they glittered quite realistically.

  From everywhere it seemed that they were looking at you, like eyes in a photograph where they are looking into the lens.

  It never ceased to seem to me that the stuffed animals were quietly watching me, observing. Their poses were strangely authentic.

  As if before my appearance they were frolicking silently, jumping from cabinet to cabinet, doing their monkey business, but as soon as the door opened, they instantly froze in the position in which I found them.

  They were sitting in groups on a high cabinet, their eyes bulging.

  I opened the closet.

  There was a large doll in it.