The Place Where

by Rodion Pretis

  * * *

  “What, Daden, take me, is this happening?!” - The Destroyer resolutely stepped into the fitting room, completely ignoring the assistant fashion designer trying to prevent this, quickly retreating at the sight of her employer, and froze at the sight of the “new Kiryak”, and her hand instinctively reached for the gun.

  Kiryak with a slight ironic smile relaxedly raised his hands up, showing that he was not armed and, it seemed, was not dangerous.

  - A cup of coffee? He suggested neutrally, not taking his keen eyes from the Destroyer.

  - What's going on here? - the earthling has already pulled out a gun and sent it to the designer.

  “Alexey is very observant,” Kiryak slowly lowered his hands and calmly sank into an armchair, “she saw through my game, and realized that I was not quite what I was impersonating.”

  “Shea, remove the gun,” the girl asked, taking a chair next to Kiryak, “he just wants to talk.”

  “Alex, why do you always manage to get into something,” with a heavy sigh, the Destroyer removed the gun and collapsed into the remaining chair.

  “As I understand it, it was a rhetorical question,” the designer grunted, pouring coffee melancholy.

  “Yeah,” agreed Alexei, drinking from her cup and closing her eyes with pleasure. - Coffee is simply divine.

  “This is an imperial variety, it is very difficult to get it,” Kiryak explained, in turn drinking a sip of coffee, and turning to the earthling grinned. - There is no poison in coffee, you can safely drink.

  “I took it and believed it like that,” the Destroyer grunted, and Alexei only shook her head doomly.

  “Well, it's a business,” Kiryak shrugged philosophically and turned to the girl.

  “Tell me about your creations,” the girl asked.

  “I create special matter based on ordinary fabric, nano-technologies and bioengineering,” the designer began to explain. - How is a separate story. Suffice it to say that so far no one has been able to repeat this. Further, with the help of psi-abilities, I program this matter on certain properties: strength, restoration, shape change, subordination.

  - So that first dress could initially take three forms?

  “Oh no, that's not quite true.” It was programmed into two forms - normal and transparent ...

  - What ?!

  “But what you did to him is already fantastic,” Kiryak admitted, looking with admiration at Alexei. “You reprogrammed it for yourself, made you recognize you as your mistress.” It just so happened that the matter I created has the beginnings of intelligence. And earlier matter only obeyed me, but here is such a surprise.

  “You go to say that your creations are alive?”

  “Not quite right, but close to that.” In addition, I can always feel that my creation has been destroyed.

  “It's just unbelievable ...”

  “Doesn't that scare you?” - the designer smiled softly.

  - No, it doesn't scare.

  - I am glad. Does this mean that you continue to wear my creations?

  - Perhaps ... Kiryak, tell me, who can remove your creation?

  “The one I can program.” In your case, it is only you yourself. ”Kiryak averted his eyes.

  “And you, as the creator of matter,” the girl looked at him slightly disappointedly.

  “Yes, it is,” he admitted, calmly meeting her gaze, “but I would never do that to you.” Believe me, Alexei, never.

  - Tell me, who could take off the jumpsuit if it was badly damaged?

  - One who would have very strong psi abilities. Despite the damage, my creations are not so easy to remove.

  “I see ...” the girl thought for a second and shook her head. - What are your interesting new technologies.

  “These are very old technologies, Alexei,” the man laughed. - This technology refers to artifacts. Where are you from? What world?

  - We are from the Earth, this is such a planet. It is wonderful, although we don't even have anything remotely similar to your technology. There are many countries on Earth, each of which has its own culture, language and traditions. We have not yet entered space, although space stations have been used with us for quite some time. There are many picturesque places on Earth, some are almost untouched by civilization. I like to go to the sea, walk in the forest or enjoy the mountains. It's so wonderful to swim in the sea, pick mushrooms in the forest or sitting on a rocky plateau to watch the sun slowly sink into the sea ...

  “And the family let you go so easily?”

  “I am an adult and independent girl,” Alexey laughed. “I don't need any special permission for this.”

  - What do you know about the world you are in? Asked Kiryak, who realized that their worlds were radically different in many ways.

  - This world is significantly different from the one we are used to. We know that there is a community of thirteen planets, each with its own language and one more common, - the girl began to set forth the facts known to her. - The Commonwealth is ruled by the Emperor. On each of the planets there are his governors. Cast, as such, practically does not exist. There are just those who own money and those who work for them. Separately, there are mercenaries and their more elite version - dei. Well, there still exist, of course, those who live outside of all laws.

  “You are all saying it right, only all this information is overview and for general use,” Kiryak sighed and continued. - You do not know many nuances. Take women, for example. In the commonwealth for a woman, there are only two ways: to become someone else's wife and property, or to engage in an ancient profession. Young minor girls are limited in what they are allowed to do, and this is very tightly controlled. In addition, there are many bans for all women, without exception.

  - Like a ban on watching exotic dances? - to Alex began to slowly reach what a nightmare place she brought.

  - Yes ...

  “And if a girl has the audacity to become a mercenary, she is automatically assigned to the category of affordable women and cannot even imagine what she can say no?”

  “I'm afraid so.”

  - Oh my God! - Alexei turned pale, suddenly clearly seeing the reasons for the ugly from her point of view, the behavior of Simeon and at first Kayden.

  - Did someone offend you? - froze Kiryak. - It happened at the time when your jumpsuit died? I beg you, do not be silent, Alexei ...

  “Now I understand that I still got off easily,” the girl laughed merrily. “I just had to participate in clandestine battles, and not ...” She shook her head, and the man gasped for breath. “What hole we got into ... And here we have to live for the next three years ...”

  “The action teams for three years are gaining neons - a race considered to be the direct descendants of the legendary paxirates,” a sort of mild ironic twinkled in Kiryak's eyes. - Neons are practically immortal. And how all immortal beings suffer from boredom. And observation of the “games” of the teams gives them the necessary entertainment. Owners of teams observe the tasks of their and other wards, often push them together, make different money bets, team contracts or ancient artifacts.

  “A pretty sweepstakes,” the Destroyer grunted, not uttering a sound.

  “For neon you are just pawns ...”

  “Why are you telling me this?” - Alexei caught and held the gaze of Kiryak.

  “I liked you at first sight, Alexei,” he answered and looked away. “I am irresistibly attracted to you.”

  “Oh God,” the girl whispered. - But what's wrong with me ...

  It is impossible to divide by zero - an axiom from elementary algebra. You can multiply. I was about to do so. The cheap phone bought the day before with the SIM card vibrated. With a shaking finger, from the adrenaline raging in the blood, he unlocked the screen: “To confirm the operation, send a reply SMS with a special code: two-two-six-four-six.” A slight movement of the hand , and the local demon of the Apocalypse will break free from the tight briquetted prison. Journalists eager for sensations will then wr
ite, according to the press services of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, vivid articles full of headlines: “An explosion of domestic gas on Nikolskaya Gora”, “A bright businessman and his family tragically passed away.”And literally in a day or two everything will be supplanted by others: “That and that is brutally killed”, “At the entrance of his elite home ...”, “New bandit redistribution in Russia!”, “Return to the nineties ! ” But, the necessary result will be obtained - I will become uninteresting. Maybe somewhere it will flash: “Valery Lvovich Terentev was missing the deputy of the deceased head of Ross-Cross Yuri Litvinov, or maybe not.

  Bloodhounds, police, gangster clique without infusions from the outside will quickly switch to their own business if the boss decided to play it safe and has already declared a hunt for me. In the spirit of samurai - we will fulfill the last will of the murdered master or die with honor, so even the harsh Japanese acted on rare occasions, what can we say about our Russian citizens, representatives of internal organs and the business-official cesspool ?

  My killing is not economically feasible. Assets zero point hell. Sveta is a bitch! A trustworthy but unfaithful wife, the owner of all movable real estate and the owner of all major accounts. At the exit, I am a goal, like a falcon.

  It turned out, as in a vulgar tearful melodrama. My husband, that is, I, spent seven to eight months a year in Black Africa [1]. A rare visit home - in the suburbs, then Zelenominsk, a provincial Siberian town almost not reaching the proud title - millionaire. And so in a circle. Svetlana, without constant love and affection, was seduced by the persuasion of the boss of her husband and university friend at the same time, as a result of which she gave birth to a magnificent boy weighing four and a half kege. What a good show without wild greed implicated in cynical pragmatism? She also played a significant role, given that a third of all Ross Cross were mine. The next weight on the scales between life and death was the opportunity to transferto Litvinov some of my assets that were completely unrelated to our company. My good old partner on those projects considered it more profitable to work with a chef. At first I got into intolerable debts, and then there was the opportunity to write off everything at once.

  And you will not blame anyone for what happened except yourself. Until the last bustling days, about six years old, everything was going along the rut, so I relaxed. The schemes are all worked out, people are tested, the mechanisms are regularly lubricated with evergreens, what accounts should be spent on. Routine With the exception of constant monitoring, no more excessive efforts were required. But this is a routine, not a sinecure, not at all, especially considering the contingent with which I had to work.

  The person I tested in more than one case, called back four hours ago and reported the bitter news:

  - Walter, you leaked! - and then briefly and clearly why.

  Rechecking the data took three hours. If I were in Moscow, it took about forty minutes. Part of the evidence turned out to be direct, part indirect. But they all spoke about one thing - they really wrote me off. No less overwhelming news that Svetka's child was not mine. Haer's meeting, I'll break my jaw, I knew and was silent, but rather, as I thought, I don't have any people. If someone is less seasoned in all sorts of troubles, then he must have broken down - the whole built-up life that he gnawed out with his teeth, sometimes making incredible efforts, turned out to be an illusion that disappears upon closer examination.To rise from a boy from the province to a co-owner and deputy company with a turnover of many, many zeros ever convertible, and this is not every ten thousandth.

  - Africa has already passed the stage for you. Everything is in the ointment there, so Morgunov will cope, ”the chef exhorted me before this trip.“ You will bring him to the people in Zelenominsk and let him work in this direction. You will begin to master Venezuela. The prospects are huge, and the curators are interested. They ripen there, they have such a good mess. By the way, your Khayer, he showed himself sensibly, I want to transfer to Novosibirsk and Yekaterinburg. Let him turn.

  So instead of an absolutely loyal and loyal bodyguard fighter, Luther and Morgunov appeared next to me in Zelenominsk, who, after the transaction was completed, had to arrange my untimely death. I threw them off the tail, leaving them at the hotel. Himself under the plausible pretext of drinking, playing in the casino and hilling slutty girls went in search of adventure. However, here my behavior did not differ from usual. As in that joke: teach your wife that every weekend you play golf with friends, but do not waste time on such nonsense. Golf is still exotic, but banal, but such clear and absolutely stereotypical things are available for everyone to understand, and are often assumed in relation to people who are not poor and bosses.

  So I taught everyone that I am a gambler, a womanizer and not a fool to step on a traffic jam. However, the "amusements", which often hid things, preferred to indulge alone. Fewer eyes - more options. Now the future killers quite calmly guarded the empty case at the Everest Hall hotel, well, not quite empty.

  In Zelenominsk, I also had some blanks for a rainy day. I bought a one-room apartment in a sleeping area on my left passport. True, this place could be called sleeping only by building and advertising release, the proximity of the local giant - the metallurgical plant, transferred almost elite housing to a completely different status. There, in a paid parking lot, an inconspicuous budget foreign car was waiting for me, instead of Gelendvagen, money, weapons, documents. Prepared thoroughly. Actually, I stopped on the side of the road on the way to the place of lying.Although we did not work in pure crime, but at the junction, the curators in large uniforms of such offices and offices that it would be better not even to name, however ... we often walked along the edge. From this its assets and zero. The same Booth [2] did not work on its own and flew high until it was shot down.

  Therefore, the most optimal solution in my situation is to bang the boss until he reaches me. This was not an easy thing if he had not attracted me to the construction of his own mini-palace on Nikolskaya Gora eight years ago. He did not manage to scrape money for Rublevka at that time, and then he got used to it, settled down and did not want to change anything. The kindergarten, the garden, the bees are purely Luzhkov in the country ... he needs to raise a collective farm, manage a pig farm ... He even decided everything in the office of the house, or even tinkering in the flower garden . Fanfan Tulip [3], blah!

  It seems that everything has already been decided, but I continue to wind up myself. Hard decision. The stupid feeling of a moronic unreasonable hope is warming like any person, they say, maybe it can somehow solve everything in a different way, it can all form. But nothing is formed, not this time, not in this life.

  So here. At the time of the construction of Litvinov's den, there were a lot of sharp questions between us, and then I was used to waiting for the tricks from everyone, the boss is in eMeSK, and I have a plug in every barrel. Therefore, one and a half tons of industrial flooring were placed in the right places, hidden by concrete floors, masonry. And fuses connected to the common electric network, activated by SMS, with the generated code, were waiting in the wings. They waited ... Just not to send this moron to the forefathers, only one factor prevented me - Cyril, whom I considered my own son. Up to this day. Just arrived at daddy's, but they were going to steer somewhere from hour to hour.

  Therefore, he waited for my man to call you back. To hell with him that Sveta, as a loving mother, will leave retaliation. It would be the same with her boss there too. But I'm a tough person, sometimes cruel, but to kill peaceful children, all the more unconscious, is beyond good and evil. Why only peaceful? Because I lived for a very long time in different countries of Africa, and I saw five-year-olds and seven-year-old boys with a personal cemetery behind them. Rusty Kalashnikov [4] is taller, it's hard to keep them, but they have already killed, they will kill, and if they are not killed, they will continue to kill. The price of life is unknown to them.

  The tune of the native gadget of the latest model, things as useless as in such a body
kit status, pulled out of thought. Today, branded electronics often perform the same functions as in the nineties and zero gold chains with two fingers thick and brass knuckles. Steve Jobs [5] is a genius who once again managed to instill in the Papuans a love not of despicable metal, but of beads, albeit technological ones, for the new models of which they fought in the first days of sales. But society is developing its own criteria, and I am not a misanthrope to go against the rules. They don't go to Tula with their samovar.