Сергей Огольцов – The Algorithm of Chaos (страница 5)

It’s absurdly ridiculous – a guy shy of his unraveled asset! The 2 more pancakes, smaller in size, rigidly athwart to the caller’s skull. His pair of ears.

‘Dumb ass! Still feeling shy? Stuck with the teenage phase of growth. Having the trump suit cards like yours, one would have easily run for president and win by a landslide. What an amazing image! The ears so attentive, rounded, full of kind care. Slap them on your campaign poster – the bomb! 'We do hear the electorate!'– and the election’s won without fumbling with the ballot boxes. A fair play.’

Vit didn't share any bit of that with the guy in the Samsung screen. The mute comments under the moving pancake picture were his private thoughts.

On the whole, this here Vit is a rather taciturn cat, which feature characterizes him not only in the framework of the current narration but in his life too. What concerns the social sphere of life in general, there are firmly founded indications that he has none, and I suspect that Vit doesn’t participate in general elections, never votes in referendums nor partakes in rallies. And all that’s too bad, of course, but then it’s one of his rights. It should be standing somewhere within the scroll of human rights. Just like him, I’ve never opened the charter but it, presumably, does exist or else how come I hear that word collocation so too often?

Now, coming to his private life, I can tell none also. Firstly, it’s not moral to rummage in other guy’s underwear and their idiosyncratic kinks. Secondly I know nothing except his being a man in his prime, single, and not in love with the sounds of his own voice. See?

For that reason the guy hiding his ears outside Vit’s Samsung hasn’t also heard that Vit is not a shaman. And he doesn’t hire himself out as a healer of anyone's psychological trauma.

Even though he knows a remedy or two for the problems caused by a protracted virginity (from the standpoint of a society long driven mad by the tyranny of the market and the political demands for willingness to be happy with anything suggested by the guys who certainly know just because they should know everything).

However, the role of the biblical voice in the wilderness of the loneliness surrounding him did not appeal to Vit. Not at all. So he just said out loud, in a calm tone of voice:

‘What's up, Lex?’

‘Hey, Vit. Still working your ass off? Your rosy dreams to rip a green benjamin off prozzza.net, right? Dude, you are indeed a slow learner. Typing away a ton of crap a day for nothing. Forget it, bro! They only share likes to the members of their own mob, and get the bill in turns. You're not an uncle to them neither a cuz. Do you really need it? Why ramming the shell of that Qua Klux Clam?’

‘I don't give a damn about any prose mob, mind you. And both two cents or a sack of shekels will never be the objective. I use the site as a tool to hone my skills and personal style. You can’t deny, this Monthly Challenge with a $100 prize carrot serves a good incentive to break through the usual writer's block: "Half kingdom for a plot! All of the subjects are exhausted. Oh weh, a priori!" While at prozzza.net, there's no time to lament. Get your "whachabaut" and saddle up, quill riders! Bucks go to who gets the most likes. Time flows, it’s a month minus today already!"’

Stop straining yourself and clickety-click the keyboard to pieces. Tell me, how much presidents have you collected so far from these monthly runs? You spend more green on doping than that entire prize can cover.’

‘Well… a couple of times, I got position 20 at the finish.’

‘Hippety-hoppity! That’s the homeboy! So, at the start, you were 20 whippets, right?’

‘Not my fault… See, the audience is different. They think in terms of Disneyland and Steve King, any move beyond the comics plane spells a bummer. That’s why every like from over there spills a ray of hope. We can understand each other after all. Over the barriers of prejudice and idiocy inoculated into both them and us.’

‘Here, here! A standing ovation! The best speaker I’ve ever listened to! Yes, sir, in all my life! My guess is that well-off psycho patients are allowed there to graze in the internet vistas. That’s where your sorry couple of likes come from. Or maybe from a nursing home. But definitely keep hanging out there with them, bro. Moreover, it’s principles at stake. They matter, not the bucks, eh? And then: what's there in a $100 bill? It won't kick around in your pocket for any longer than the very first ownerless blonde in your way.’

‘Would you kindly shut up your sermon fire hose, Padre?’

‘Well, now, Vit, I've got a friendly offer coming up. The kind you can't reject even while rock’n’rolling in Saint Vitus dance. A fucking gold mine, oil fields that will have BP and Shell ripping hair from each other's scalp to get the right of sucking your dick for a good-night. A lullaby with elements of improvised jazz, okay? You get the beat?’

‘What hooey is this? Drilling my private parts with rigs? Oh, fuck off!’

‘Come on, man! I was just putting it metaphorically… The point is, the like opportunity comes along only once in a lifetime, if ever.’

‘Yeah. I got it. After sampling some metaphorical shit from that gold mine, you’ve got on high… Still don’t forget yourself and keep in mind – I'm a celibate.’

‘Since when?’

‘Okay, call me tomorrow morning, when you feel better.’

‘Wait, wait! I'm not kidding! There’s some business to discuss!’

‘Talk business then and don't wind things up like a startup pimp.’

‘Look, there's that story… well… the material… It'll make you famous, Vit! Overnight! You'll have as great a name as Pynchon, Joyce, Hemingway!’

‘And who was that guy in the end?’

‘Hemingway? I am damned if I know. Yet, my ex-girlfriend drenched his book with tears once a month. Regularly.’

‘Girls and books are polar things, they don’t go together, so don't push it! Maybe, a couple centuries before… But mankind has long since forgotten those days… Anyway… So, you got jealous and remembered the guy’s name, right?’

‘A girl from the virginal hinterland can keep a surprise or two up her sleeve, believe me, cuz… In short, the file I put my paws on contains something that will shutter the whole world in less than 3 days. All that remains is to edit it, sign with your name, and wake up great the next morning. Yummy enough, eh?’

‘Okay. Just to save you from overdosing on your own junk. Drop that file to my email.’

‘Forget it, handsome. I never have nothing to do with emails.’

Which is genuine truth. Lex is completely obsessed with personal data security. Stuck in his ways on that point. Irrevocably. It takes an entire week to convince him to send you a "hi-bye" including the link http://:sweet-grandmother/tales-for-grandchildren/charle-perrault.html.

And yet, at the very last flash, he'll definitely have the jitters. Probably, because of his position with some obscure Office that works for the government.

A set of squat buildings, behind a high chain-link fence. CCTV cameras on each pole. Sullen Rottweilers walk their handlers three times a day, around the parking lot perimeter.

The surest way to get a break from Lex’s usual endless chirping is to ask: how his working day was. And that's it. You won't hear a tiny peep from him for at least ten minutes. He's absolutely not there for the stretch. Reserved, gloomy, quiet…

Impressed, undoubtedly, by the fate of a Jewish couple who also worked for the government before they got electrocuted for leaking A-bomb production plans and formulas to the SU.

‘Come on, it was a gag. Don't wet your bed tonight. Everything will be fine, kiddo. There, there. Which flavor ice-cream you want?’

‘How about 2 at Uncle Tom's Cabin? Are you comfortable?’

Even big-shot billionaire guys can’t say ‘no’ to a buddy.

True, one crowned slut, a nymphomaniac perched on the Russian Empire throne, canvassed for keeping enemies closer than the most trusted of your friends.

So that you could sense the slightest stir in their souls, thoughts, intentions, and anything else that could get up, so she said.

A dumb bitch, albeit spiced with cunning. It's friends you need to keep an eye on, 24/7. Your friends know your weak spots better than you do. These guys won't miss, O, no. You won’t recover after their pointed hits. Never ever…

‘Ah! And you, Brutus!..’

Yep, you moron! Don’t look for better hands when in need to pass away urgently and cheaply. Rest in peace, you fucking idiot.

‘Seems fine to me,’ responded Vit.

2. A Cozy Nook For A Lecture

Despite the establishment’s name, no one had ever even seen Tom at the Cabin, but the fact hardly keyed up any щаеру restaurant patrons. Even the absence of his both nephews and nieces was accepted by the regulars with a seemly composure, no jitters at all.

The Cabin’s owner, Madame Harriet, for all her undeniably advanced age, retained a caustic bitchiness and the light-speed reflexes of a rattlesnake.

Not a single gunslinger in the wildest parts of lawless Old West would ever hold a candle to her, if you benchmark the milliseconds it takes the duellists to draw their weapons.