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Chapter 6. It's not like that at all.
Igor (Mendoir, June 2360)
The Hectic Year (part two)
June 10, 2360, 6:45 a.m.
The workout is over, I'm going down to the kitchen. There is peace and quiet at home, the whole family, except for Deniska and me, is still asleep. My father is not here, he is on duty at the plant. I go into the kitchen, take a one-and-a-half-liter plastic canister of juice in the refrigerator, pour half of it into a glass carafe and dilute it with water. Pure juice is too sweet, and after a workout it's not exactly what you need. But it's worth diluting — that's it! I take plastic cups from the locker and go to my friends. They're just lying on the grass, a quick glance in my direction, joy and malice in their feelings.
"I told you he'd come and bring you some juice!" This is Azat speaking.
"That surprised me... Yes, the Snake has a chuika — you and I, the poor ones, never dreamed of it! I wish I had that... uhhh!"
"Don't be jealous, it's not good!"
"That's who's talking! By yourself!"
"I can!"
"That's why?!"
"I have white envy!"
"And I have a black one, then?!"
"And you're just jealous."
"I do not understand... What does simple mean?"
"Where are you going! It's not for average minds..."
"Does that mean I have an average mind?! That's it, then! Sir Azath! I am offended in the best of feelings and demand immediate satisfaction!"
"Ha ha! Sir Denis! I accept your challenge! Where are the trainees?!"
"Over there, in the shoe box."
Maybe I should spar with them too. It's time for me to regain my knife fighting skills. Or did I ask Master Tanris to supply me with his equipment?
The guys pulled out training knives, they are made of soft and flexible plastic, but they leave bright luminescent marks after blows. It is extremely difficult to injure them, but the result is clearly visible.
They kicked off their shoes and socks, and pulled off their T-shirts, leaving only light sweatpants. They stood opposite each other and bowed slightly.
The beauties! Deniska is slightly shorter, but much stronger and slightly heavier than Azat, with already well-defined muscles. The Azat is faster and more flexible, with amazing predatory grace, the protective plates are still soft, both on the head and on the body. Tight rolls of muscles curl around the body and arms. In a couple of years, he will become a thunderstorm of women's hearts. Beware, young Turians!
They moved slowly in a circle, not taking their eyes off each other. Slightly crouched, deceptively relaxed, the right hand with the knife slightly in front, the left slightly closer to the body and lower, the palm turned down. I feel excitement and anticipation of a fight.
I'm missing the moment when the movement starts. A moment, a flicker of hands, a bunch of deceptive movements, the brothers tangled into a ball and fell apart, panting heavily. In Deniska, a bright blue stripe runs diagonally along the peritoneum, in Azat, it is bright green, from the right shoulder through the collarbone along the throat, disappearing at the ear opening.
"Ha! I got you! In real life, I wouldn't blow your head off." Denis said, panting.
"Look at yourself!" Azat is panting.
"Oh!" says Denis, staring at his stomach. "My giblets went for a walk! My poor guts! I'm blown away," the brother falls on the grass, spreading his arms.
"It's a draw again!" I'm definitely going to ask Master Tanris to be my apprentice. I like their knife fighting techniques. I was watching the guys' mental battle. But the sword fighting skills will have to be restored on their own. It's not customary for Alliance troops to carry long swords at all. Few people can handle them. Shorties or knives are the order of the day. And only the Massai and the Japanese use swords.
"I don't like sparring with you, Azat! It doesn't do any good!"
"I agree! I know you like crazy! All your feints and tricks." Azat grumbles, toying with the blade.
"Tell me, when was the last time our sparring ended with a victory?"
"ER-er-er... well, it was like last week.... You kind of won."
"Sort of?.. You were in the clouds then! Master Tanris scolded you back then. And by the way, who is she?"
"What are you talking about?!" Azat flashed with embarrassment.
"Come on, come on!" Denis broke into a smile. "Who were you thinking about? Come on, crack up!"
"It seemed to you," Ham replied, even more embarrassed.
"Oh, frend! You seem to have fallen in love!"
"Yes, she is so, so..."
Deniska reaches into the box and takes out bags of wet wipes, throws one to Azat.
"Catch it, lover! Otherwise, you'll be shining a green stripe on your neck!"
Azat opens the bag, takes out a napkin and begins to wipe off the paint, his gaze blurs and he, looking into the distance, just smears it on his skin in vain. Deniska lies down on her stomach, supports her head with her hands and, smiling, begins to follow her friend's manipulations. I put the decanter on the grass, throw the glasses, take the napkin from Azat and carefully begin to clean up the stains. Azat looks at me, at the smiling Deniska, blinking in surprise.
"Well, why did you interfere, Snake? This lover would have smeared a marker all over his neck right now and wouldn't have noticed. And then it would be green!"
Azat looks at me with his clear blue eyes. He's embarrassed, and he takes my hand with the napkin in his:
"Let me finish it myself... snake!"
"There's not much left here," I answer, wiping away the last traces. I lean into Azat's ear and ask in a whisper: "What's her name?"
"Basma Rinaris," My brother answers softly.
"That bully?" Deniska's voice is heard in my ear. "Oh-h!" he gets an elbow in the side from me. "Liska, don't push!"
"And she's not a pushover at all!" I'm talking. "She's just very shy and hides behind it. "And, Azat, she likes you too, and I think she more than likes you."
"Really?" my friend is surprised and delighted.
"Wow! Yes, it's mutual!" There is surprise and a little envy in Deniska's emotions.
We sit on the grass in silence for a while. To bring these lovers together. Otherwise, they'll be beating around the bush.
"So!" Deniska smelled businesslike. "I have a plan!"
"What's the plan?" Azat asks suspiciously.
"How to arrange your date. Otherwise, you'll be beating around the bush, and you won't decide on anything! And she's even more so! Snake, I'm going to need your help. Are you in business?!"
"Of course! Don't even doubt it" I answer.
"And my opinion, as it were, is not taken into account?" Azat is surprised.
"As if not! You're too indecisive", Deniska answers. "And your salvation is now in our hands!"
"That's what scares me...." Azat grumbles. However, he is actually very pleased.
"Anyway, listen up!" Deniska begins. "As far as I know, she goes to the city's preference club every morning to play the piano."
I must say that a real piano is a very scarce thing. It is clear that in the 24th century, for the most part, electronic analogues are used, but in order to learn how to play correctly, you need to play a real instrument. There was only one of them in our town, and it was in a local club. The club was organized on a shared basis by three reasonable people: a human, an azari and a krogan. On the ground floor, it was quite an ordinary entertainment venue: with a restaurant, a disco, a bar and a cabaret. And on the second floor there was the only preference club in the entire colony, and there was a grand piano. In the evenings, various respectable people gathered at the club, including the colony's management, my father and his friends, to paint a bullet or two. During the day, everyone was taught to play the piano there, for a fee, of course, albeit a small one.
"We wait for her on the way home, then you," Deniska points at me with her finger, "you invite her to the Mirror, under some normal pretext, with us. We're taking her to the lake, and then it's a matter of technique."
"I may not be able to do it very well, but if we take Bina, then together we will definitely convince her."
My brother scratched his head. He ruffled his hair and answered.
"So, we take the blue one, she definitely won't refuse to participate in such a case."
"Is there a place for me in your plans?" Azat asks indignantly.
"And in order not to scare you off, you will prepare a place with Ali! A table, juice, a cauldron and a heater for cooking mud crabs from you. As soon as we leave, I'll beep on your communicator, and you'll run off to the foothills and pick some flowers. So be it, we'll all catch mud slaves together.
"What colors?"
"Yes, any kind, there are many different ones growing in the glades, you can pick a bouquet to suit your taste. We'll settle down for now, you'll be fine. Come back and give her this bouquet. She's not stupid, and she'll understand."
"Got it! Everything seems to be simple..."
Deniska takes the decanter, we sort the glasses. My brother pours the juice, raises his own.
"I have a toast! To the success of our event!"
"For success!" Azat and I talk in unison, clink glasses together and drink juice.
Two hours later, having mobilized all the young people in our village, including Nasar, Azanti and Ivan, having clarified and supplemented our plan, the whole company begins to implement it.
I fly behind Deniska's back to the town, and a memory of a year ago wakes up in my memory by itself. On the same day, exactly one year ago, I also flew to Leonov, but only behind Azat's back. We flew to our Galamarkt supermarket to buy summer clothes, underwear and other necessary junk. My thoughts were full of the darkest forebodings. If I had known then what kind of meeting was waiting for me at the store, I would have run there on foot with all my might!..
The Old Shaman
June 10, 2359
Listening to the Stars, Keeper of the memory of the Grey Stone Clan
He woke up at dawn with a clear feeling that something very important was going to happen today, something that would have a huge impact on the future. He sat down on the couch and stretched his aching legs with his hands. Old age had come, and his life was rapidly and inexorably heading towards its end. The realization of this fact did not spoil his mood, the life of his people is not different in duration and has never been different. He is the shaman of the clan. And his purpose is to preserve the memory of the clan, the memory of millions of generations of Keepers like him. The time will come, and he will pass it on to the next shaman, and for a while the clan will have two Guardians. Then he, like his teacher and predecessor, will go into darkness, and his pupil will keep the wisdom of thousands of years. So it was, so it is, and so it will be! Until the TIME comes.
The big house was waking up: Through the curtain, I could hear the clink of dishes, women's and children's voices, and the smells of cooking food. Sixteen years ago, it was he who convinced the women of the clan council to accept the humans' offer and settle on Mendoire. They did not lose: during this time, the clan grew stronger, richer, grew in numbers, and, most importantly, for all sixteen years, not a single man was expelled from it. The Guardian had a lot to do with it. He got up from the couch and went into a small nook in the corner of the room, where there was a large bucket of clean water. Standing next to her, he picked up a long-handled ladle and began his much-loved morning ablution procedure. The icy water invigorated him, made the aged blood run faster through his veins, his body warmed up, his mind cleared of the remnants of sleep. After washing his face, he dried himself with a large fluffy towel he bought from people. He put on a shaman's robe, put on a mask that hid his face, leaving only his eyes open. He put on and secured his hood, pulled on his boots, and finally tightened his embroidered belt. He took his staff and, throwing back the curtain, went out into the corridor.
He walked along the corridor, and people he met made way for him with a bow: women, children, teenagers — everyone who lives here greeted their Guardian. Their feelings shone with sincere love and respect, even some kind of reverence. He's been used to it for a long time. The young girl bowed and asked if he wanted to eat, but he didn't have an appetite-the old man didn't need much. Bowing, he replied that he was not hungry, and went to the exit of the house. On the porch, he was greeted by the bright sun, the hot rays of which warmed him so pleasantly. He walked over to his chair, sat down, and looked around the courtyard filled with the morning bustle. The working men greeted him with raised hands, and he raised his hands in response. Sitting in an armchair, he waited for the young men to gather in the city of human. They were supposed to be on a food truck trip for the entire clan today, and he was going to keep them company. A shadow obscured the sun, the old man looked up and saw a young man in loose clothes, looking lovingly at the shaman.
"Greetings, Wise One, we are going to the city, do you need to buy something from people?" He asked with a bow.
"No, my boy. I'll fly with you today."
"The wisest one?" The old man was dazed. "Whatever you say, Wisest One! We have everything ready and we... We're about to fly over here!" and he ran deeper into the yard.
A woman wrapped in ceremonial turquoise-blue robes came out of a large house, approached the old man, and sat down in an identical chair next to him. Her face is hidden by a mask, only her yellow eyes are visible.
"Greetings, Guardian. What do you need from people in the city that our children can't bring? What makes the old Guardian fly by himself?"
"Health and longevity to you, Supreme. And it's not what's waiting for me, but WHO. My feelings told me that I needed to be there today. I saw the Messiah with white wings in the settlement."
The woman's feelings flared with alarm.
"Do you feel something, old man? Are these times... are they coming AGAIN?"
"Yes, you're right. That TIME is near, the ENEMY will awaken soon. And, as has happened before, the reasonable ones are not ready to meet him."
"But is there any hope?"
"It's ALWAYS there. Maybe in this cycle we will find the ENEMY's weak spot and in the future we will be able to stop him."
"Women are tired of waiting. Maybe this time, the people should join the fight?"
"I don't know, Supreme... we don't have a definite answer yet."
"But it may appear."
"Yes, it can. Or maybe not. Are women willing to risk all of us?"
It seemed to have gone out. She cringed, hugged herself. She stared into space with unblinking eyes. Fear cut through her feelings.
"Maybe we should tell the others."
"It's USELESS. dangerous. They won't listen to us. They think we're savages. They won't hear us. And if the ENEMY finds out about us, he won't stop until he's exterminated every last one. And you know it, Supreme.
"Are we going to stand aside and look at it again?!"
"If necessary, we will watch."
"You probably won't see it, old man. You probably won't see it. And we'll see. And, most importantly, we will feel everything. We're scared, Wise One. The pain of one is excruciating. The pain and death of trillions is UNBEARABLE. You can't hide from it. And all the women of the clan are powerful empaths. You know that."
"The ENEMY is still as strong as ever. We don't know where his heart is. And if we don't know where it is, we can't win."
"But maybe it's a STATION?"
"No. She's just a part, a tool. It has already been used. They thought they had won. But after years, the ENEMY returned and finished what he had started."
"Are they INUSANNON?"
"Yes."
A truck flew up, the door of a small passenger compartment attached to it opened, a young man jumped out of it and bowed to the old man. He got up heavily, and the conversation with the supreme awakened the shaman's soul. The whole nation has been asking itself the question for more than a hundred thousand cycles: "Are we right?" Under the quiet hum of the truck, sitting on a hard bench, the old man peered into the depths of his colossal memory and whispered: "Maybe we were mistaken? Maybe we didn't see something?" There was no response....
Here's a human city. The truck flew into the square in front of a large store, landed, the young men got out of it, with them was a man — a "master of goods". He bowed to the old man and asked if he would go with them. The shaman refused. He went out and looked around — the square was deserted, only there were bikes on the edge, and someone was sitting on one of them. The old man felt that this was exactly who he needed. As he got closer, he saw the man sitting there-it was a human boy. He was wearing a green shirt and black trousers. With red hair and greenish eyes.
With surprise, the old man realized that he was sentient... and not only sentient, but also gifted with magic. The old man's attention was attracted by his white wings. Although they are energetic, they are not visible to ordinary people. Looking at them, he realized with a shudder: in front of him was another legend of his people, a legend that the people had encountered only once and carefully preserved the memory of it. The kid was one of THEM. In his people, people like him were called THOSE WHO HAD PASSED THROUGH DEATH.
Igor.
I was sitting like a crow on Azat's bike. The square in front of the store was deserted, with dry leaves and a single piece of paper blowing across it. The town seemed to have died out, although it was not surprising: adults were at work, and children were either at home or outside the city — in such heat, everyone preferred to be closer to the water. On the other side of the square, under the awning of the city club, a Krogan was sitting on a massive rocking chair, swaying slightly, reading something from a datapad, the chair creaking faintly under him. A purple-skinned Azari came out of the club, holding two tall glasses with some bright green liquid in her hands.
She handed one to the Krogan and sat down in a nearby wicker chair. She said something, and the Krogan answered, and they both laughed. There was a sense of relaxation and contentment from the sensible ones-things were going well at the club.
There was a low hum. Is the freighter flying? And sure enough, a brightly and gaudily painted ore truck landed on the square, instead of a dump truck, there was an ordinary body on it, but with high sides. A passenger booth was protruding from the front side. These were usually used by mining thieves.
They bought a decommissioned truck, changed the body, put it in order, and drove it anywhere. Cheap and practical, and most importantly, the body is large. The ore truck sat down. Three young men came out from behind him, thieves in gray hoodie clothes, but with brightly embroidered belts, followed by an older man, dressed a little better. They turned to someone standing behind the car, asked something, bowed, and scurried off to the store with a bird-like gait.
I got tired of just sitting there and took my flute out of my backpack. He started playing a simple tune. Then I realized that someone was looking at me. When I opened my eyes and looked around, I saw an amazing intelligent man. He was wearing a bright scarlet jumpsuit, somewhat similar to a ninja costume from Hollywood action movies, only covered with silver embroidery. There is a hood on his head, his face is hidden by a mask, only turquoise-blue eyes with vertical pupils are visible, without whites. His birdlike legs are encased in black shiny boots that fit like gloves. I looked into his eyes, and he flinched, but I didn't feel any emotion. I didn't feel him at all, as if no one was there. Oppa, the shut-up empath.
Vorka tilted his head to the side like a bird and said in a low, raspy voice:
"Greetings to you, Who Have Passed Through Death."
what? WHAT DID HE SAY?! How did he know?! My thoughts were like frightened cockroaches. Vorka came close to me. I put the flute back in its case and put it in my bag.
"I can help you. To teach. To tell. To explain. Do you want to see and find out the truth?"
"But how did you know?! Who are you?" I whispered.
"I am the Keeper of the memory of my people. You humans and others call us shamans. But we do not conjure spirits, we do not knock on tambourines — we preserve the memory of our people for all the time of its existence."
"And for how long? How old is your story?" I asked quietly.
"More than one hundred and ten thousand of your years."
"How much?" What about the Reapers' Harvest cycle? And during this time, it was possible to develop into a space civilization 5 or 6 times.
"Are you surprised?" Vorka rasped.
But you're considered savages. Aggressive, uncontrollable, violent. Your gangs are scaring children. Your homeworld is a radioactive dump. Some people even consider you to be animals, not intelligent.
"Let them count. We did it on purpose to hide. Look away from us."
"Whose look is it?"
Vorka looked at me carefully, tilting his head first to one side and then to the other.
"YOU KNOW THAT."
"THE REAPERS." I whispered, and a cold and heavy lump formed in my stomach. I was so hoping it would work out. The world is already in the 24th century, and the events were in 2183. Although that Reaper warned that their prediction was not absolute.
"That's what the Protheans called them. We just call them the ENEMY."
"How will you show me and how will you explain?"
Old man Vorka, for some reason I clearly realized that he was old, sat down next to me, on the bike seat, and asked:
"What do you know about Asari's "embrace of eternity"?"
They unite consciousnesses. The thoughts, feelings, and memories of the intelligent become temporarily shared.
"That's not quite true," he squeaked. "In the case of unification with other races, contact is one-sided, the Asari see you, but you don't see them. Unless they want to show something of their own."
"And you?"
"We call it "togetherness" and we are open. All Guardians of all Vorka clans can use the common memory of the people and the memory of each other, combined into one whole. By connecting others, we don't hide anything, so we try not to associate with strangers."
"Like computer networks."
"The comparison is correct. We can connect you to our memory for a while and give you the necessary knowledge about the Reapers."
"Will my memory be available to you?"
"Yes, it will. Do you have something special you want to hide?"
"No. There is nothing like that — you already know my most important secret. It's just not clear how you recognized her..."
"There used to be people like you. The knowledge of at least three people like you is stored in the common memory, and one of them was among our people. He was the one who taught us how to create a shared memory-he was the first Keeper. He taught us how to identify people like you. He took us to the stars and found out about the ENEMY. That was a hundred and ten thousand years ago. He lived a very long life, and the memory of him still lives in the people. Do you agree?"
"Yes, I agree. Such gifts are not refused. What do I need to do?"
"Just look into my eyes."
I looked and fell into a living, intelligent abyss shining with myriads of stars. He showed the history of his people. And at the very end, I asked him:
"Can you show them to me?"
"Do you want to see the ENEMY?"
"Yes, I do. I want to know what awaits us."
"Look."
I found myself among the ruins, the sun was not visible, dense gray clouds were flying and swirling across the dark sky. Strange creatures in equally strange armor stood and sat around, hiding behind the rubble. In their six-fingered hands, they clutched something that looked like a weapon — most likely, it was. Anxiety and fear were mixed in their feelings. Everyone was looking at the sky. And from there, some kind of huge shadow was descending on us. The clouds swirled, reddish lightning bolts appeared, and a huge black bulk fell out of the low clouds.
Six thick paws extended from the outstretched body in front. The carcass sank lower and lower — I realized with horror the monstrous size of this machine. The REAPER, and it could only be him, spread his paws and landed at incredible speed. The ground jumped under my feet, and I saw many people collapse around me.
The REAPER straightened up, and a low, vibrating roar filled the area. He seemed to penetrate into every corner of my body, every cell seemed to vibrate in sync with him. Wild animal TERROR flooded me. The reaper moved forward, slowly shifting its paws, it approached us with cold relentlessness. The sentient beings around them jumped up and began shooting, thin ruby rays hissing out of the outlandish weapon and disappearing on the surface of the mechanical creature. The reaper stopped, turned its body slightly, and a thick crimson beam shot out from the base. He moved along the rubble, and the hefty blocks of stone simply spread out in bubbling puddles at his touch. The sensible ones just disappeared with pops. The beam came up to the wreckage I was hiding behind, and everything was flooded with red light.
I woke up, there was a square of our town around, next to it stood Listening to the Stars and looking at me sadly. Phew, that's real. I checked the color of my wings. White. Well, that's great.
"Now you know what awaits us."
"This is the third time your people will see this. How do you live with it? After all, you are strong empaths, you feel everything that happens."
All the air seemed to have been drained from the old man, he hunched over, lowered his gaze and whispered:
"We don't see a way out yet. We don't see how we can defeat the ENEMY."
He turned and shuffled off towards the ore truck.
"Keeper." I shouted. "If events turn out the way you saw in my memory, if I need help, can I ask your people for it?"
Vorka shuddered and stood for a while. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked around.
"If that's the case, and you call us..." His eyes seemed to glow, "We will come to you and stand next to you."
Looking at his back, I thought. Would human have been able to deliberately drop their entire race from the heights of civilization into complete and utter barbarism with their own hands? Turn the race into astronauts and explorers, diggers and bandits? And all in order to win someday?
What remains in my memory is how the Reaper platforms, when they came to the Hashtag, saw only the destroyed and abandoned orbital infrastructure and rabid hordes of savages hacking at the surface for everything. The monsters left without touching Vorka. But smart machines have not been able to sense how closely they are being watched from the surface by a similar, but only organic mind. I have seen how for thousands of years Vork has been searching for the mysterious Center — the heart of the machine mind. They're looking for him and they can't find him, and there aren't even any clues as to where he is. But the Keepers showed me exactly what it is. And it wasn't a Citadel. I saw through the eyes of the Guardians the full power of the station's mind, but at the same time, its absolute subordination to someone else. And the Reapers themselves are just platforms controlled from the outside, completely devoid of independence, scary, powerful... and yet pitiful slaves.
The old man was leaving, and it became crystal clear to me: the Harvest was waiting for me, and there was no way to escape or hide. My new childhood is over, now I have to evaluate my every action from the outside. To calculate how he will help me in the future, whether he will strengthen me or weaken me.
I took out my flute and started playing a sad melody. I was so carried away that I didn't even notice the tears running down my cheeks.
Date
June 10, 2360
Deniska's voice pulled me out of my memories.
— Snake, we're coming. We're doing everything as agreed. Are you okay?
— The best of all! — I get up on the seat and kiss my brother on the cheek. — Don't mess it up yourself!
— No way!
We sit down behind the store, Vaska and I take seats against its wall and wait. About ten minutes later, we hear footsteps and some kind of rattling. I look around the corner and see a young Turian woman wearing a short jumpsuit skirt and a white T-shirt with a dragon's face. She walks thoughtfully down the path, wearing sandals, but that doesn't stop her from kicking an empty plastic beer can in front of her. Her gaze is fixed into the distance, detached and thoughtful. Bina and I hide around the corner and start giggling with our hands over our mouths.
"Shhh!" Deniska hisses at us. — Be quiet, you'll scare me off! — he comes over and also looks around the corner. A second later, he hides, looks at us, a malicious smile on his lips. — You're as accurate as ever, Snake! Another lover.
— She's coming out now, and your party begins. Binochka, make a serious face! Snake, I'm counting on you! That's it, let's go.
The first part of the plan went like clockwork. Under the double pressure of Bina and me, Noverry gave up after two minutes. Our blue one put her on her bike, we all flew together to the Rinaris for a swimsuit for the tourist, and we warned her parents that she would be with us in the Mirror.
We arrived at the lake. There was already a table, blankets, and a steaming cauldron on the heater. All our noisy crowd of small fry were shouting and chasing a ball through the shallow water. Azat was not observed.
Ali stood on the shore and looked after the younger ones. He turned around, saw us, green eyes flashed, raised his hand.
— Hello everyone again! Basma, hello!
-Hello, Ali,— the Turian replied. There was confusion mixed with curiosity in her feelings. She looked around, looking for someone.
— Basma, Basma! Look at the mud slaves we've caught! The younger ones ran up in a noisy group.
"Come on, we'll show you," Azanti says and takes Basma by the hand.
— Yes, yes! We'll show you! Nasar takes her other hand.
— Let's go quickly! Vanka shouts, jumping up.
"They're so big, and they've got claws!" — the younger one shows a fishing gesture. Basma laughs, changes her clothes and goes to watch the catch. He's in shallow water, in a netted dish.
The bike is humming, and Azat has returned, with a hefty bouquet strapped to the seat behind him. He gets off the bike, unfastens the bouquet and goes to the water. The feelings are confusion, determination, and a little bit of fear.
Basma turns around, sees Azat and smiles, he smiles back at her, but inside there is a real panic. The girl approaches, without taking her eyes off her brother. He hesitates, standing at the water's edge.
— Hello, Azat.
— Hello, Basma. I flew to the foothills here.... Well, anyway... you are... here.
"What's that?" Azat?
— This is for you! — says the brother and hands her a bouquet.
-Thank you,— the girl replies softly.
It's getting late. I'm sitting cross-legged on the bedspread, and Bina is sitting next to me. We look at Azat and Basma walking along the shore, they are holding hands and talking quietly about something. The Turian has a fluffy wreath on her head, which we wove for her from her own bouquet. Their feelings are like the sea — I'm rocking on them, I'm sitting and enjoying myself with my eyes closed. Deniska sits down between us, hugs Bina and me, and says softly, "We're doing great! Yes, boys?
— Yeah! Well done! — I answer. Bina snorts indignantly. She doesn't like being addressed in the masculine gender. Then Bina silently laid her head on her brother's shoulder and was quietly sad.
— Let's get ready! It's going to get dark soon, and we haven't even cleaned up the trash yet," says Deniska.
In about fifteen minutes, having collected everything and fixed it on the bikes, we are going home. Basma gets on a bike to Azat, he will take her himself. Saying goodbye, we fly away.
It's completely dark, and I'm sitting on the fence outside my house, looking up at the sky. It's bright and starry here. There are two moons, but they are both much smaller than the earth's. One is bluish, the other is bright yellow. A shadow flickers and a growing buzz is heard. Azat arrived, ahead of him flies a feeling of happiness, joy and some kind of ... inspiration. A real storm! He puts the bike next to me, and I jump off the fence and sit next to him. He turns around.
"Saw you off?"
— yes!
— How did it go?
"You know, I told her everything."...
"You confessed?"
— yes! And she said that too!..
My friend scoops me up and hugs me to him. I hug him back.
— Thank you, Snake! You're my best!
— You're welcome, Azat.
— I feel it will be an unforgettable summer! — He says and starts laughing.
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