1

The Christmas tree was big and decorating it took a long time. It was dark outside. The principal finally told the fifth graders hall monitors that they could go home. He also let their teacher leave early. The teacher went to the school porch. A bare light bulb above her head shook in the wind, but ishe couldn't see further than five steps away.

The blizzard was howling. The teacher shivered from the cold, but she was not far from her home. Suddenly, a bearded man in a snow covered coat came out of the dark and said, “I beg your pardon. Would you be so kind as to take me to the principal Yar?"

Stupid fifth graders had torn Christmas tree beads, so Dasha was sitting on a toy box and was putting shiny balls on a thread.

Al’ka stood on a three-meter stepladder and hung glass icicles, baubles and yellow foil stars, which resembled sunflowers, on the Christmas tree. Each time he hung a bauble, he asked from up high: “Yar, how do you like it?”

“Fine. Be careful and don't fall off, okay?” Yar responded and looked with anxiety at the little door near the stage. There was an adjacent room in which the children prepared the Christmas lights. Finally Chita appeared and said: “The wire is sparking. I need a little more time to braze it again….”

The large door next to the hall opened and the teacher's displeased voice spoke in the hallway: “Principal Yar, someone's here to see you.”

A bearded man in a fur wedge hat and a snow-covered coat stepped into the hall. His beard was blond and trimmed in a neat square. It was getting cold in the hall. It seemed to Yar that someone quietly and quickly removed the glass from the windows. The beads fell off the thread. Fortunately, not on the floor, but in Dasha’s hem. A silver bauble fell from above and burst muffledly on the floor.

"A thousand apologies for the intrusion, Principal Yar," the stranger said hoarsely.” I would not be here if it was not an emergency.”

“Come on in,” Yar said, feeling a terrible sense of foreboding. "If you like, you can take off your coat.... You can even take off your beard, if it bothers you. You're just not right for the part of Santa, you know."

“I know,” the guest agreed. “But this is my own hair…. Wherever possible….”

He took off his hat, shook the droplets off of it, and then he loosened his scarf. Slowly, like an old man, he pulled his coat off. There were no hangers in the room, so he laid his clothes on a chair at the entrance. He looked like an elderly professor. He had a neat grayish hairstyle and a well-pressed jacket. Some kind of a badge was pinned on the lapel of his jacket. His dark crimson tie was half covered with his wide beard.

He had blue eyes. The pale face of the “Professor” was good-natured and seemed quite alive. However, both his behavior and his speech were excessively proper, wich made Yar and the guys feel uncomfortable. Even Dasha and Al’ka were startled, even though they had learned about “Those Who Command” only from stories.

image [http://www.rusf.ru/vk/pict/sterligo/golubjatnja_na_jeltoi_poljane_19.gif]

"Where can we talk, Yaroslav Igorevich?" 'Professor' asked Yar.

“Right here,” Yar said.

"But ...." 'Professor' looked at the guys.

“It's okay,” Yar said. "They know. These are the kids who were in the fortress."

"All right," 'Professor' said with a purely human inflection. "They are your fighters ...."

"Yes," Yar said. He took a step to the window, removed the Christmas toys box from the chess table, and pulled up two chairs.

“Have a seat.”

"Thank you."

The guest sat down, showing the perfect crease of his gray trousers. It became quiet. Chita looked at the top of the Christmas tree. Al'ka put a golden rooster on the Christmas tree with a carefree look. Dasha threw herself back into putting on the beads.

'Professor' broke the silence, “I understand that my visit doesn’t match the holyday spirit ...."

“Frankly,” Yar interrupted him.”I am a little surprised. I didn’t think that after that incident at the post office any of you would decide to have direct contact with us."

The guest drummed his fingers on the table.

"I have to, Yaroslav Igorevich .... But why not? We are not enemies. We were faced with a vicious twist of fate, but if you think well, there is absolutely nothing to split in this world. We can live without interfering with each other, but helping one another ...."

“Really?” Yar said in a quiet, reproving voice.

"I understand. There were painful episodes and you had losses ... But in the end, you were the winners! Yaroslav Igorevich! In the last conflict, you have eliminated one of our ... uhm ... representatives. Although he was, from all accounts, an invincible one."

“Well, he started it,”Сhita said.

“Of course!” 'Professor' exclaimed. "It is not disputed that your actions were justified!"

“We called him “Observer,” Yar said. “I think he didn’t have many brains.”

“Absolutely!" 'Professor' said cheerfully. "He was a hopeless dummy. This is understandable, since he had just one Unit.... We don’t feel much for him; he failed in his mission. Above all, he did not have time to inform us what kind of weapon you have used.* We did consider that any such weapons did not exist. Alas, we were wrong and I've got to say, we are ever so confused. I do say this in all honesty."

Yar asked 'Professor': “What does "Unit" mean? A unit of measurement of intelligence?"

“Yes, to some extent…. If you are interested, I can explain."

ar sat back, making it clear to the intruder that he was interested.

*See in the book I ("The Dovecote in Orekhov”). At the request of Chita, he and Yar made their way to the abandoned post office, and, through the emergency radio station available there, called Ignatik (Tik). Chita believed that Tik, wherever he was, would hear their call. Thanks to his psychic abilities. Immediately after the broadcast, Chita and Yar were attacked by a member of 'Those'. No weapon could harm him, not even the emitter taken by Yar from his spaceship. But the enemy was destroyed with hitting an ordinary rubber ball, which was once used in a game of five holes.

“You see, we are very different from the humanoid civilization to which you belong,” the guest said kindly.

"I can see that," Yar said sarcastically. His anxiety lessened and he was really curious.

"I do not mean the morality or the goals of our activity, but our physical nature," the 'Professor' patiently explained. “Our self-aware unity consists of a kind of mind atoms, as a blob of thought energy.... There are those who consist of one such atom, like the simplest molecules. But there are "molecules" that resemble huge clusters.... Well, I'm simplifying to a certain extent...."

“I'm interested to know how many of these blobs of mind are personally in you," Yar asked.

The ‘Professor’ smiled as adults smile when they hear a child's tactless question. But he answered almost without delay: "No point getting misty about it - seven hundred twenty-nine."

"Wow," Yar said.

"Why such an uneven number?" Al’ka asked from above. "You would do it at least seven hundred and thirty."

"The number is even," the ‘Professor’ politely explained. "We just have a different counting system, not the decimal."

“One more question,” Yar said strictly. ”So what do I call you? The rank you have is obviously not low. I don’t want to use nicknames."

The guest nodded.

"Call me Magister. It’ll be true, to some extent."

“All right then, you move along, Magister.” Yar said.

2

The Magister was silent. He сoncentrated, wrinking his forehead, trying to come up with a way to ask. The skin on his forehead seemed completely human, not like the skin Thoth's glazed face.

Remembering Thoth made Yar smile ironically.

Yar said: “I hope you are not going to tell me to go back to my star cruiser.”

“Heaven forbid! Why would you think that?”

“Thoth tried to tell me to turn around and go back to Earth.”

"Then things were different.... In addition, Thoth was not flexible enough in his thinking; he had only twenty-two Units. Although he was diligent and efficient."

“When you say “he was”....”

"Yes ... His death is one of your victories."

"What happened to him?"

The Magister grinned and rised his bushy eyebrows.

“Poor Thoth…. Your idea that every person is a whole galaxy affected him greatly. That would be just a phrase for you, but it made him mad. He could not refute this idea logically. He had lost his reason for existent and he fallen apart.... You see, I’m not hiding anything from you, Yaroslav Igorevich. I expect you to be forthright with us in return.”

“Erm….” Yar said.

“I'm sorry, what do you mean?”, the Magister asked with a tone of human annoyance in his voice.

“If you want to know about the weapon that we used against the Observer...."

"God forbid! Yaroslav Igorevich! Why do we need this?First, we are not going to fight with you..."

“And second....?”

“Well…. I don't mean to sound rude, but I think you can guess that in case of emergency we can blow the entire Planet into star dust, including everyone who is on it, plus your weapon."

“Take it easy,” Yar said to himself. "Just don't be hot-headed...."

Yar paused and then said calmly: “You are powerful, but also naive. Why do you think that we would let you destroy the Planet? You do not know our powers and our abilities."

“Dammit!” Yar thought to himself. “What hope could I possibly have? I don't have a leg to stand on.”

"Listen to me, Yaroslav Igorevich....” The Magister smiled condescendingly.

“No, you listen to me. I’m not the same naive newcomer on the Planet I once was. I don't rely anymore on the outdated seven-shot Viking system pistol. I’ve figured a few things out. Your repeat your Invasion tricks every twelve or thirteen years. First you have to accumulate enough energy to make another attack. If you destroy the Planet, it'll get worse. What will happen to your bases and the gypsum dummies production? Isn’t that it, Magister?”

The Magister started blinking hesitantly, and it was pleasant for Yar to see this.

The Magister said, without much confidence: “"You do not know.... We have other ways."

Yar markedly yawned and said: “Let's not go around trying to scare one another. So let's cut to the chase.”

“That's all I want!” the Magister exclaimed. Then he looked back at Chita.

“"Excuse me.... Could the boy stop bouncing the ball? It distracts me."

“Chita, knock it off with that ball!” Yar said. “"It makes our guest nervous."

"So?" Yar asked.

The Magister said quietly and solemnly: “We’ve got a big favor to ask you, Yaroslav Igorevich. We're asking for your help.”

“Interesting,” Yar said.

"Yaroslav Igorevich, you are not the only person who came to the Planet from your world. Another man has been living here for many years. I mean, another earthling. Is that the correct word?”

“Quite correct,” Yar said in a whisper. His suddenly felt pain in his neck and his breath stopped in his throat with excitement.

The Magister strummed his fingers on the desk and said: “We really want you to meet him.”

“Me too!” Yar thought. “I really, really want to! But, of course, not for the reason that you have...."

“What’s the reason?” Yar said in a shaky voice.

"It’s a very serious matter. This man from Earth has a tiny model of the galaxy. We really need it."

“I see,” Yar said, although nothing was clear to him. "You need it, but he needs it, too. And he doesn’t want to give it to you. Right? But you can’t just take it away from him....”

“We cannot,” the Magister agreed. “For many reasons.... And we can't bargain with him. This man hates us much more than you, although he has much less reasons for this than you.”

“What do you know about my hatred?” Yar thought. He remembered how bullets bounced off Thoth’s coat. And how the fortress was collapsing. And how Dasha was crying at her mother’s grave....

“I want details,” Yar said.

“Here you are. Gleb Vyatkin. He appeared on the Planet about forty years ago. We don’t know what he did before and what he was on Еarth. He’s also known as Shooter and Gleb the Wild. He is a former terrorist, and now he’s a little-known writer. He lives not far from Orekhov, in the Hill village on Luchnikov Street in house number eleven, on the second floor. He lives a hermit....”

“Why? Does he feel a longing for home?” Yar asked.

"I don't think so. As far as I know, he never made an attempt to return to Earth."

“And what kind of galaxy model does he keep?”

“It has great sentimental value to him, although he has no use for it. Apparently, it has great sentimental value for him. According to some reports, the model was created by children in the city of Starogorsk, which is located in your world. They made it just for fun and then they gave the model to Gleb Sergeyevich . I don’t know the details.”

“Those kids did it, but you cannot….”

“Trouble is, we can’t do much of your children can.”

The Magister sighed very naturally, like an old man.

“Yaroslav Igorevich ... Can I be assured that the information that I tell you would not be used against us?”

"I don't know. You have to take a chance."

“We are interested in putting an end to our hostilities and open to the possibility of an alliance in the future.”

“From the sounds of things, you desperately need this galaxy model,” Yar said.

“Urgently…. The fact is this is not just a model. It’s.... I can’t find the right word. We have a concept that can be loosely translated as a “mirror factor”. Are you familiar with the Twin theory?"

“I'm afraid not.” Yar said.

“It's like a psychic connection between twins. The model we are talking about and our real Galaxy are, in a way, twins. They are carriers of the mirror factor... I'm sorry if my explanation may sound strange.”

“It’s okay. I understand to an extent,” Yar said politely.

“Actually, they’re not twins, but a whole, although the galaxy is huge in our view, and the model is just a tiny spark. I guess that's why they call it the Sparky.”

"So, by acting on the Sparky, you wish to change something in our sinful Galaxy?"

“You get the point.”

“But I don’t understand why I should become your accomplice and help those who brought so much grief to the Planet! I’m sure that this isn't the only planet where you showed up! Isn’t that it, Magister?"

The Magister was drumming his fingers on the chess table again.

"I don’t think we can agree on this matter," Yar said grimly.

"But why, Yaroslav Igorevich?! If we have the galaxy model, we can rid the Planet from the invasions, the epidemics, and other undesirable phenomena that our experiment causes! We would not work with the Galaxy; we could then operate on its model!"

"Yes! And one day you would decide to stick a pin in the Sparky for purely experimental purposes. And the core with thousands of inhabited worlds in the center of the Galaxy would explode in hell...."

“Yaroslav Igorevich.... Sorry, but that's the narrow view.”

Yar sighed wearily, "You know, I have only one Unit of Intelligence. I can’t understand your wild idea...."

“There is a higher purpose in all of this, which you can't possibly understand,” the Magister interrupted Yar. “A thinking galaxy is the peak of development, the ultimate accomplishment... This idea gives us a sense of eternal life and total satisfaction. We see this as the reason for being."

“Well, everyone has his own way. Everyone shapes peace and quiet to his own image and thinks it's good for him,” Yar said.

“Exactly!” the Magister said. “You humans, you are divided. Everyone has his own measure of happiness. One is happy when he marries his girlfriend, the other one when he has enough money to buy a motorcycle, the third one is happy thanks to a decent salary and a beautiful summer residence ...."

“There is something bigger….”

“I don’t disagree. One would make it his life’s mission to win as many battles as possible, the other one would devote himself so that no battles ever took place again, the third one dreams of discovering an unknown planet ....”

“It once seemed the same way to me, but now I know that happiness is when those who you love are happy.... But you are just a clay dummy and you’ll never understand this," Yar thought wearily.

The Magister seemed to read Yar’s thoughts. He said with a cushioned voice, “Well, my friend, to each his own. The nature of human affection is still mysterious for us, but maybe that is what will get you to cooperate?"

“What do you mean?” Yar said.

The Magister said quietly, "Yaroslav Igorevich, here's the deal -- you get the Sparky for us, and we give you the boy back."

Yar stood up and asked, "What boy are you speaking of?"

“Well, of your stepson, whose name was Ignatik Yar - Tik.”

Yar was silent.

“You saw his grave. But he.... he did not die. It is in our power to return him to you unharmed.”

Yar remained silent.

“So, what did you decide?” the Magister asked impatiently.

Then Yar called out loudly, “Tik!”

The little door near the stage opened and Ignatik crossed over the threshold. The wires with colored flashlights hung on his neck. Tik said to Yar, “I’ve fixed it. I just need to change the light bulb.”

“Tik,” Yar said. "Come and sit with us while we are talking here…. Well, go on, Magister. I'm listening to you...."

3

There was a thaw in the morning, but after noon the road was covered with a crust of ice and the worn tires of the old school jeep glided on the icy bumps. The jeep had one headlight out, so while driving Yar had to strain his eyes to keep the rough road in view and try to see anything in the distance. A blizzard was coming.

Ignatik and Al’ka were sitting in the backseat and bouncing every time the jeep went over a bump.

Al’ka laughed, “When Tik came out, Magister’s jaw hung down from astonishment.”

Yar grinned and said: “Just like me last September, when Tik, who was believed to be dead, stepped out of the next room. Although, Magister and I had different feelings about it.”

“Tik, how did you do it?” Al’ka asked.

“I've told it, like, a million times.”

“Have they kept you locked up?” Al’ka pressed.

“Of course. I was kidnapped and then they made me like lethargic, half-asleep. I didn't want anything - neither to eat, nor drink. I opened my eyes, looked at the ceiling and fell asleep again. The room was white and there was a window high on the wall, almost at the cieling. They said that Yar flew away and that you are all gone, too. Then.... everything lost its meaning. And then the Windies* came through the window and I heard a voice on the radio.... Well, you yourself know!”

“Did you escape right away?”

“No, I didn't. Before leaving I laid the pillow under the covers, as if were stillI sleeping. I tried the door, but it wouldn't open. Then I told myself, “Now I can open it and there will be Yar and the guys.” I tried the door again and it opened. I stepped into the room just like I did it before on Yar’s scader*.”

Yar said, “There is one thing that is not clear to me, why didn’t they didn’t notice you were gone until today?”

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Ignatik answered. “They looked through the crack and saw the boy asleep under the covers, under their hypnosis…. Are you afraid that Magister would do something worse to us?”

“I don't think so,” Yar said. But he lied to Tik. Yar was afraid. He was not worried about Cita and Dasha who remained at home as much as Gleb Vyatkin, though they were yet strangers to each other. What if the Magister would take urgent action against the owner of the mysterious Sparky?

Yar recalled how confused Magister stood on his shaky legs and muttered, “With your permission…. I'll visit you again. I'm not quite ready.... to continue to speak it....” The Magister nodded awkwardly, pulled on his coat and hat and walked out the door.

“I don't think, Magister would try anything in the near future. I mean, he flipped out over Tik's sudden appearance.”

“Maybe,” Yar agreed. “Don't talk. Please, don't distract me.”

But Al’ka said again: “What do you think his beard is made of? He must be lying that it was his real hair.”

* The scader - a star cruiser

* The Windies. In The Empty City, on a Tower, on the upper platform, a spell is carved on a stone. A boy needs to cross the River, climb the Tower and learn the spell by heart. After that, he needs to jump from a great height and to read this spell during the fall. Then the boy will become the Windy - he will turn into a small spiral air vortex, which can fly wherever he wants, and become a living person or the Windy at will. If a boy who passed the rite subsequently dies, he does not die for good, but turns into the Windy forever. Many Windies live in The Empty City. The Windies that survived can become people for a short time - from several minutes to several hours. They also know how to "go into foundlings": to turn into living babies who are living on the doorsteps of a family (and not necessarily in the world of the Planet). Such a child lives an ordinary childhood, not knowing about his past, until the age at which he died at one time. When he reaches this age, he remembers everything, and soon turns into the Windy and flies away.

THE VETERAN

1

Yar covered the jeep’s engine with an old sheepskin coat, and they all went up to the front door of a dark building. They climbed a rickety wooden staircase that made two turns among the cold and damp old brick walls. The rotten steps caved in under their feet. The bulb upstairs was so weak, it couldn't even be called a light. The guys and Yar stopped at a door, which was upholstered in ragged leatherett.

They saw a time-darkened doorplate. Yar took a closer look and saw the words:

GLEB THE WILD

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WRITER

“Well, it fits,” Yar said, having sinking feeling in his gut. He looked for the call button, but could not find it. Then Yar knocked hard on the door. It was quiet. He raised his fist again....

A clear, unexpectedly close voice asked, “Who do you need?”

There was probably a speaker in the door. Yar said, feeling terribly stupid, "I need.... Gleb Sergeevich...."

A very long minute had passed. Ignatik and Al’ka shuffled their feet awkwardly next to Yar. Finally, the voice said unfriendly, "Come in."

The door moved. Yar pulled the door and it opened. Behind the door was another door, a wooden. The second door opened on its own. Oncoming light hit their eyes. Yar closed his eyes and it took him a while to see where he was. The room was long and narrow. A man was hunched over the table with the green-lighted lamp at the far end of the room. Yar saw his shiny glasses and his beard. The hands of the man were hidden behind a stack of books. Everyone was silent for quite a while. Finally, Yar said, “Well, hello….”

“Damn it.... Hello,” the man said in a high but hoarse voice. “Come here, please.”

The upper light faded out. Yar, who was blinking, walked to the table. Tik and Al’ka walked on both side of him. They stopped next to the table.

“You seem to know who I am,” the writer said. “Won't you introduce yourself?”

"I am the principal of a high school in Orekhov. And these are my ... my children."

Gleb Wild took off his glasses, wiped them and put them on again. He pulled out a large, shiny revolver which was hidden behind the book stack and placed it into drawer.

Tik and Al’ka were craning their necks for a view.

"This is a Morton gun," Al’ka said.

“No way, it's a Fort,” Tik said.

Gleb laughed and rubbed his small gray beard with his palms. He was an old but strong man. His thin tanned face was covered in deep wrinkles.

image [http://www.rusf.ru/vk/pict/sterligo/golubjatna_us_3_04.gif]

“Have a sit,” Gleb said. “Why the hell did you call me Gleb Sergeevich? You probably know who likes this old-fashioned way to address?”

"And what should I call you?" Yar said and grinned. “Writer Gleb the Wild Wild?”

The writer scratched the cloth on the table with his fingernail.

"Call me just Gleb," the writer said. “Tell me the truth, they sent you, right?”

“Well, of course,” Yar said, and settled himself comfortably on a creaky wicker chair. "A man of a very dignified appearance; he’s calling himself Magister. Do you know him?"

Gleb shook his head and said quietly, “I don't have any friends among this scum. I prefer to shoot them without much talking."

“Bullets can't harm them,” Yar said.

“There were special bullets,” Gleb explained. "Ask your friend Magister, he'll tell you himself."

Yar laughed, "Gleb! What nonsense are you talking about! He’s not my friend at all! Magister came up without my invitation and had proposed to make an alliance, but I told him where to go. But maybe I should thank him-- he gave me your address."

"But why did he choose you?"

“Just because we came from the same world.”

“You and.... Magister?”

“Oh, gee whiz!” Yar exclaimed. "I mean, you and I!"

Gleb whiped his glasses again and looked at Yar questioningly.

“I've only been working as a school principal two months,” Yar said. “And before that, I was a math teacher. And long before that I was a dispatcher in the port. I got in this place from planet Earth, like you. You have connection with Starogorsk, and I am a native of Neisk—they are not far from each other. My name is Yaroslav Igorevich Rodin. I’m a scaderman – an interstellar scaut. Now I’m known as principal Yar.”

Gleb closed and opend his strong fingers and said quietly, “I can't believe…. This is a surprise…. How about some tea?”

“Yeah, it would be nice,” Al’ka said, sitting in the big chair in the dark corner.” Look, Tik's ears are red from the cold….”

Gleb sat back and laughed out loud.

2

The room had unpainted wood-panelled walls. Along one wall, there were book shelfs. Framed drawings and engravings hung on another one. A triple-barrel shotgun stood at the head of the bed.

Gleb removed piles of books from the table and arranged teacups on it.

“...But why did Magister say that you were a terrorist?"

"ForThose who command, I was a terrorist." Gleb said. “I appeared here when the war between the left and the right banks of the river was formally over, but it was still turbulent around the cities and in the forests. I was still a boy then. I learned to shoot straight, despite wearing glasses, and earned myself a nickname - Shooter.”

"And.... who were you shooting at?"

“At Those, of course. They led the so called Pacifying Units.They had no use of the war anymore, and they decided to immediately put things in order on the peninsula. First they pitted armed groups from different banks against each other, and then disarmed those who were weaker. They destroyed weapons, but people.... well, it was a case by case situation… Some people were set free, but those who were starting to suspect something wrong... I've seen enough and learned to shoot. We had a man who knew how to cast special bullets. He put a spell on them, as they did in the Middle Ages. But, Yar, we shot not only Those. We also shot those who helped them. We couldn't change that….”

“What happened next?”

“As the time passed, I realized that it's pointless to go to war with them. I don’t know where they came from and what is their nature, although I've given it a lot of thought. Maybe they are aliens from another planet. One thing I know for certain -- they belong to a race of parasites. They're like…. cockroaches in the kitchen.”

"And you stopped shooting and decided to keep a cleaner space.”

“Honestly, I did it without much success. Well, I was all over the country. I was protesting in public and trying to shake people up. I got nicknamed Gleb the Wild. I've written books…. By the way, the expression “Those who command” is mine. That was the title of one of my books. They soon banned my books and burned it.”

"Listen, Gleb.... This crazy idea of a sentient galaxy they are talking about, what is it? Well, is it like a church or a cult or something?” Yar asked.

“This theory is extremely naive. I had a talk with a clay philosopher before I....” Gleb stopped short and looked at the guys. “In general, their theory states that the galaxy is a huge empty brain, not filled with any information so far. They send information into space in the simplest way with the help of explosives to create vibrations. So there is a mess and all these Invasions…. In addition, our cute clay friends do not mind closing the time spiral in a circle so that everything spins in an infinite loop!"

“What would they do that for?”

"I believe that they want to gain time in order to achieve a wider goal,” Gleb answered Yar. “Our galaxy is developing and expanding in its own way and will not wait to be filled with their minds.... Those who command are a race of cosmic parasites. They don’t even have their own physical shell so they have to use statues and mannequins as their bodies…. Yar, have you ever thought about returning to Earth and bringing a large well-armed landing party to clear the Planet of all the parasites?"

After a pause, Yar said, "Not at first, but then I did and then again no. Gleb, I realized that the aliens could not change the world. They could probably blow up a planet, but not save.... And what about you, Gleb? Did you try to return home?”

Gleb swiftly answered, “No. I did not try and do not want to. It seemed to me than that I was needed here, and it was enough for me. I have everything I want here.... Anyway, the Planet is just like Earth."

Yar scratched his chin thoughtfully.

Gleb continued his explanations, “You see, the dimensions are densely packed together like transparent cubes ... And here our parasites have broke something in this cell structure during their explosions and experiments. The cubes had covered with cracks and moved ... A young novice journalist Gleb Vyatkin tripped on some metal rails and was brought here through one of these cracks....”

“Can we see the gun?” Al’ka asked, making puppy-dog eyes at Gleb and pointing to the double-barreled shotgun hanging on the wall.

“No way!” Yar shouted.

Gleb took the gung off the wall and said to the guys, “Here, take it. It's not loaded. In fact, the gung’s spring is removed, so even if you want to take a shot, you can’t. Now.... it's a museum piece now.”

Tik and Al’ka came up to Gleb.

Suddenly, like a gunshot, a mechanical voice came on - a voice that Yar knew.

"Yar-r! Hello! How are you, scaderman?"

Yar jumped up and removed the green lampshade.

In the corner, at the ceiling, was a small funny creature - a tight baggie with wire hands and legs. The creature was clunging to some strained rope under the ceiling as its legs flopped around cheerfully. A face drawn on the baggie was smiling.

“Blabber!” Yar was really surprised. His heart started racing. Yar looked back at Gleb. "Gleb, can I ask him a question? Look, it won’t die because of it, will it?"*

“I’ll neverrr die,” the Blabber screamed joyfully. “Ask me a trrrillion questions! I have Eternal Energy inside of me!”

"Shut up, Mr. Blabbermouth!” Gleb said. “Don't mind him, Yar. He has been living with me for nine years and he hasn’t gotten any smarter."

"You didn’t get smarter!" the Blabber said. "The only smart thing you ever did was putting the magic Sparky in me!"

image [https://www.flagmanenok.ru/wp-content/2023/01/golubjatnja_na_jeltoi_poljane_02.gif]

“Is it true?” Yar asked Gleb.

Gleb laughed and nodded, “It's the safest place to hide. Magister wanted me to give him the Sparky, but now it belongs to Blabber, and he would never part with something so precious."

"Never!" the Blabber confirmed. "As long as I have Sparky in me, nothing can be done with me. Ha-ha, I'm, like, invincible."

“You know, I have trouble shutting him up,” Gleb said.”But sometimes he gives good advice….”

The gun suddenly went off with a loud bang. The Blabber fell to the floor, and the cups flew off the table.Тhe room filled with blue-gray smoke and with a faint scent of gunpowder. There was a ringing silence in the room.

“I thought you said it doesn’t fire,” Ignatik said with guilt in his voice.

“Intolerable scandal!” the Blabber screamed from under the table.

Gleb rushed to the boys and grabbed the gun out of Tik’s hand. He cleared his throat and said, “What the devil! There's no bullets in there! The trigger isn’t working! How is - how is this even possible?”

“Tik. It's all him,” Alka said smugly. ”He can do a lot more than that just by thinking it.”**

“It’s like letting children get hold of matches….” the Blabber screamed, climbing the wall.

Gleb sat back in the armchair and began to laugh....

*The Blabber. A man-made intelligent creature that you can create with your own hands from a piece of cloth, several sticks or pieces of wire and sand. You can do the Blabber only in a quiet place. The sand is poured into a piece of cloth, then the cloth is tied. A face is drawn on it and “hands” are attached from the sides, after which the Blabber is hung somewhere on the wire. As a result, he comes to life and can talk, tell stories or just keep conversation. But you need to talk with him carefully. The most important thing is not to ask him any questions. The fact is that the Blabber can answer any question, but only one. If you ask him a second question, he immediately dies and turns into a handful of sand in a piece of cloth.

**Ignatik (Tik) has the superpower to take some of his fantasies into reality, but sometimes they’re unconscious.

3

The old jeep glided over the bumps in the road again. The snowflakes were dancing in the yellow beam of the headlamp. Gleb was sitting next to Yar. The Blabber settled between Tik and Al’ka who were bouncing in the back seat.

“I have an apartment at school,” Yar said to Gleb. “We can discuss our next move over a nice bottle of red wine. I’m so happy to meet someone from Earth….”

“A bottle of red wine, that’s quite something!” Gleb said. “The only thing is, Yar, you and I are from one planet, from Earth, but not from the same world….”

Yar looked at Gleb, puzzled, and said, “What do you mean? Well, you told us about your life in Starogorsk.”

“I lived in Starogorsk for a while, about a month. However, I come from a different world. You know, our worlds are similar, though there are differences. My Earth is probably younger and life there is not as comfortable. But now it doesn't matter anymore. I'll tell you everything later, all right?”

“But…. How did you get here?”

“A train. A strange train going to the Bridge station....”

“This Bridge station comes up once again…. we just can't escape it.”

“Well, I guess you’ve already heard about it.”

“Yes. I think the train is not simple - it goes through several parallel spaces, so if you get on the train and ride for a long time, you can find yourself in another world. You have any idea who's behind it?”

“Hard to explain. By the way, we tried to find this Bridge and blow it up thirty-five years ago.”

“Why?”

“We knew that for some reason ‘Those who command’ really needed it, which meant it hurt people.... We couldn’t find it.... My wife died during a skirmish on a rail track.”

“Did you have a wife? Oh, sorry for the stupid question.”

“Yes, I was married…. but for a short time.”

“What about children?”

“No.... You know, Yar, I still regret that I couldn’t talk my fellow traveler out of returning.”

“What fellow traveler?”

“He was a boy of twelve years. Yurka. Together we left Starogorsk to search for the unknown. He had friends in Starogorsk . He first came with me, and then suddenly he said: “No, I can’t leave Gel’ka.... This happened immediately after the paper dove with the Sparky caught up with us....”

“You know, I don't get it. Who was that boy? Was he from your world?” Yar asked.

“No. He was from your world, from your hometown Neisk.”

“But why did he go with you?”

“It's a long and strange story. He grew up without a father and did not know anything about him. And then he suddenly decided that his father was an interstellar scout. He says, "Where is he to be found, if not in this entanglement of space and time." You know,Yar, he may have a point. At least here, on the Planet, there is one scaderman.... Yar! Have you ever had children?”

Yar suddenly felt his palms get sweaty.

“No, I haven’t…. as far as I know. But how did he know that his father was a scaderman?”

“He didn’t know anything. It was his fantasy. His mother once said to him in the heat of the moment: ”No one on Earth can say where he is and what’s being done to this drummer....”

“Yar-r, mind your driving!” the Blabber said behind. “Keep the jeep quietly along!”

Yar hardly turned the wheel and the jeep swerved from the side of the road onto the snow-covered track.

“Why the drummer?” Yar asked. He felt his heartbeat ringing in his ears.

“Yurka saw an old picture that his mother had. There was a courtyard, a girl and three boys in the picture. Two of the boys had wooden sabers, but the other boy in the picture had a homemade drum. Yurka noticed that there were similarities between him and the drummer in the picture. He guessed that it was his father the one he never saw.”

“Gleb.... Have you seen that picture?” Yar asked.

“No. Yurka told me….”

“The drum.... Was it made from an old cooking pot?”

“Yes, that's right. But how did you…. Man, I can't believe it! I think we met for a reason….”

Yar pulled the jeep over. His hands were running out of strength and he felt ashamed of his sudden weakness. He said: “Guys, just give me a minute to get things together, okay?”

“Yar, come on. I'll take the wheel,” Gleb said.

“No, I’m fine. I just… just want to ask…” Yar quickly turned back.” “Tik, would you penetrate space so that I can visit Earth? You can do that, can't you, Tik?!”

“Sorry, Yar, but I cannot. I was able to move through space and come to your star cruiser because I knew exactly where to go.... "

Yar took a deep breath, sat in silence for a few seconds, then put the jeep in gear.

“Okay then,” Yar muttered.

“Yar, your son must be, like, over fifty wherever he is now,” Gleb said gently. “It’s a kind of time-travel paradox.”

“Does any of this matter now?” Yar asked.

“Well, we'll have to try something else...” Gleb said uncertainly.

Yar smiled sadly and said, “What? Gut Blabber, give the mannequins the Sparky and ask for their help in return?"

“Fortunately, that's impossible,” Gleb said.

Yar sighed and said, "Yurka... I wish I knew more about him. I wish I knew anything ..."

"The Windies. They fly everywhere. They know everything. This is my advice," the Blabber said from behind in his mechanical little voice.

“All right, that's great, but how do we find them? A fat lot of use you are!” Gleb said with displeasure.

"I know where they are," Yar said. " They’re in the Empty City. The school holiday starts soon and we can go there, right, Tik?”

Ignatik was silent for a long time. The jeep pitched from side to side over the icy, snow-covered road. Ignatik finally said, “No, there is no need to go to the Empty City. There is a place much closer. I can show you the way."

...After arriving home, they sat beside the cosy open fire, listening to the wood crackle. Ignatik said, “You know, the Windies usually meet together in the forest meadows sometime before the new year and turn into ordinary boys for a short time. They do this to feel like kids again. They play, have fun, and see friends.”

"So do you know where these meadows are?" Gleb asked with disbelief.

Ignatik nodded and said, "One such meadow is very close, at Black Lake. It is eight kilometers from here... Don’t worry, the Windies are good fellows.You’ll see.”

After the blizzard, the morning was still; only the rustling of his skis on the snow could be heard. The sun was shining bright, but the cold caused a tingling in Yar’s fingers. The snowy landscape sparkled so brightly that it hurt his eyes.

They traveled along the gentle hills covered with thin forest. Dasha, Chita and Al’ka ran forward and flickered ahead like colorful specks. Yar, Gleb and Tik slowly followed them. Yar and Gleb were skiing side by side; Ignatik followed slightly behind them. Yar was a little dizzy after a sleepless night, but he was breathing well. However, he felt no joy. His sadness had subsided, giving way to a feeling of loss and uncertainty.

The skiers stopped at a grove of fir-trees and then they made their way into the full green boughs, but soon they went out into a clearing.

“Wow. What is this?” Dasha said quietly. There were some footprints across the clearing. Someone small and light had run barefoot here, in the fresh fallen snow.

Dasha shrugged and said, “They'll freeze to death.”

“They don’t feel any cold,” Tik said. “Let's go. Just don't make much noise.”

They crossed the clearing and found themselves in the thick forest again. They heard perky, tall voices and laughter. They moved further and soon found themselves in an oval meadow. A couple dozen lightly clothed boys were messing around in the snow-covered meadow. It was just like recess at school. The youngest were eight to nine years old, and the eldest about thirteen. Their hair needed cutting and their skin was brown, as if they had just been camping by the sea in the summer. Many of them ran barefoot. Looking closely, Yar noticed that their shirts, jackets and sailor suits were faded and patched.

image [http://www.rusf.ru/vk/pict/sterligo/golubjatnja_na_jeltoi_poljane_20.gif]

A boy who was no bigger then Ignatik stood in the middle of the meadow. He was knee-deep in snow and threw snowballs. The other guys threw snowballs at him. The boy laughed, leaning his head back. His shirt was yellow, and his hair was sunny yellow, too. The snowballs did not reach the children, but fell in the air to fine sparkling snow dust. Suddenly their laughter and voices had died down. The boys stood motionless and looked at the skiers. The yellow-haired boy smiled and said, "It’s Tik. It's okay, guys." He ran to Ignatik almost without touching the snow. The other kids followed him. The noise rose again.

The boys surrounded the guests.

Yar said with an awkward smile, “Have no fear….”

Those boys who stood closer to him laughed, as is usual for the kids to laugh at adults when they try to play a children's game with them and do not know how. A curly-haired boy with blue eyes wearing a plaid shirt said to Yar, "You can't catch the wind in a net. If anything goes wrong, we just fly away."

“Are you the Windies?” Al’ka asked.

The boys laughed again.

The skinny kid said, "Of course. Tik said you are his friends. It's a good thing you've come. We do kind of miss people."

“This is our commander,” the boy in the plaid shirt said to Yar cheerfully. “His name is Vovchik... but we call him Peabody."

Chita asked Vovchik, “Do you mind if we make a bonfire?”

“Fine,” Vovchik- Peabody said and looked back at the other Windies. “Hey guys! Bring twigs over here to light a fire!”

…They were all sitting around the bonfire. The flame seemed bright orange in the sunlight. Ignatik came up behind Yar, put his hands with knitted mittens on his shoulders and quietly said, "Don’t worry about anything. I told them everything. They have a plan to help us."

“Thank you, Tik,” said Yar, touching his stepson’s hands.

The next second, Vovchik came up and said to Gleb and Yar, "Sorry, but you have to go. We have only ten minutes, and we still have to put the fire out. When we fly, we cannot put out the fire, but only make it higher. The sundial showed that our hours in our human form are about to end.”

“Let us help you,” Yar said.

“Thank you, but you have a girl with you…. I mean…. You know the way boys put out the fire,” Vovchik said and laughed. Then everyone laughed.

The boy in the orange T-shirt said to Yar, “This way, I'll walk you out.”

When they made their way through the thicket surrounding the meadow, Yar asked his guide, "Do you have meetings in spring and summer?"

"Yes, we have it in the fall too. Last time, when we all met together, we wanted to find a way of stopping the cloud if the Invasion starts again...."

“Did you?” Yar asked.

“No. We don’t have enough strength. Even if we all get together, we can’t stop any cloud.... And the big winds don’t listen to us; they don’t care. They have never been human....”

“What's it like to be a Windy?” Yar asked.

The boy smiled, but somehow sadly. He said to Yar, "Well, we fly, we rustle with leaves, slam the windows and play. Sometimes we help children fly kites or drive boats through puddles- this is work as well.... I can turn into a kid every day, but not for a lot of time, for about two minutes.... Many of us can do that. "

"Are there many Windies in the world?"

“Probably.... Through the forests, along the seashores, in the fields…. Nobody сounted us," the boy replied.

“How about the Empty City?” Yar asked.

“There are most of those who became the Windies after the uprising, like me.... But, frankly, I remember almost nothing. I only remember the fire and how we shot. The ruffle kicked back in my shoulder, but the bullets did not fly - they just fell under our feet into the dust like dead wasps. It was so frustrating…. It was good that the drum hit. The drum stopped them. But we couldn’t stop the fire.... But none of us were afraid, even those who didn’t have time to cast the spell -- they fell down and... "

The yellow-haired boy said something quickly to Ignatik. Then he suddenly jumped aside, smiled, raised his hand and immediately disappeared. It was like in the movies. Only a barely noticeable little snow whirlwind ran back to the thickets along the ski track...

Ignatik skied to Yar and said,

"Dan said that he could slide through time to get to Starogorsk. All we can do is wait."

“Well, let's wait and see,” Yar said and jerked up his head. “It's time to go home, compadres! We have our children's New Year's party at four o’clock.... Gleb, what if we give you the part of Santa?”

TO BE CONTINUED...