Chapter 21 Chapter Twenty

Cincinnatus was led through a stone passage.Chaotic echoes can be heard at any time, sometimes from the front, sometimes from behind-all the tunnels are collapsing.Patches of dark areas appear frequently as some bulbs burn out.Mr. Pierre asked everyone to keep pace. A few soldiers, wearing dog masks as required, joined their ranks.With the master's permission, Rodrigo and Roman went ahead, striding cheerfully and methodically throwing their arms, overtaking each other.Shouting, they turned a corner and disappeared. My God, Cincinnatus had suddenly lost the ability to walk, and was supported by Mr. Pierre and a soldier wearing a Russian wolfhound mask.For a long time they labored up and down the stairs—the fortress must have suffered a mild stroke, for the stairs going down were actually going up, and vice versa.Another long hallway, but this time in an inhabited area, i.e. clearly visible - linoleum, or wallpaper, or marine cabinets against the walls - which are connected to residential areas .At one turn, one could even smell cabbage soup.Continuing on, they passed a glass door with "ffice" written on it, and through another dark area, they suddenly found themselves in the yard, brightly lit by the noon sun.

Throughout this journey, Cincinnatus has been struggling with suffocating, excruciating, inescapable terror.He realized that this fear was dragging him into the absurd logic of things that was growing around him, from which he was more or less able to shake off that morning.The mere thought of the red-cheeked, stocky hunter about to swing an ax at him was an unacceptable, repulsive weakness in itself, and it would drag Cincinnatus into dangerous territory.He understood all this well enough, but like one who cannot help arguing with hallucinations, although he knew perfectly well that the whole masquerade was staged in his own head, he tried in vain to Conquer his fear, even though he knows he should be thankful for awakening.And imperceptible phenomena, strange effects on everyday utensils, some common instability, some defect in visible objects, all portend an awakening—but the sun is still real, the world is still one, and the world is still one. This object still obeys the external norms of behavior.

Outside the third door, the carriage was already waiting.The soldiers stopped walking with them, but sat down on the logs piled up by the wall, and took off their cloth masks one after another.Prison staff and guard families crowded timidly and curiously around the gates—barefooted children rushing out, trying to get into the scene, but running back, their hooded mothers hushing them up, hot The bright sunlight coated the stalks scattered on the ground with a layer of gold, and there was a warm smell of nettles. A dozen geese huddled together, quacking cautiously. "Well, let's go," said M. Pierre cheerfully, putting on a pea-green hat with a pheasant feather in it.

A scarred old carriage is harnessed to an old bay red horse. The old horse has exposed teeth, and there are some small wounds on the pointed waist and legs, attracting many flies and shining brightly. wrapped in a circle.When the nimble little Mr. Pierre stepped on the pedal, the carriage tilted with a groan.There is a red ribbon on the mane.Monsieur Pierre pushed aside to make room for Cincinnatus, and asked if the large box lying at their feet was in his way. "Be careful, my good fellow, and don't step on the box," he added.Rodrigo and Roman climbed into the driver's seat.Rodrigo played the role of the coachman, and flicked the long whip with a snap. The horse was startled, unable to pull the carriage at once, and squatted down.There was an inappropriately harsh cheer from the staff crowd.Rodrigo stood up, leaned forward, and aimed a whip at the horse's nose.The carriage was pulled suddenly, and the shaking of the body almost threw him on the driver's seat. He grabbed the reins tightly and shouted "Woo!"

"Be careful, be careful," said Monsieur Pierre, laughing, patting Rodrigo on the back with a plump, beautifully gloved hand. The gray road wound several times around the base of the fort, and the natural beauty along the way was repulsive.In some places the slopes were quite steep, and Rodrigo was gripping the brake levers with a loud click.Monsieur Pierre rests his hands on the bulldog's head above his cane and looks beamingly at the surrounding cliffs and the green hillsides between them, red flower grass, vines and swirling white dust.At the same time, he occasionally looked at the profile of Cincinnatus with loving eyes, while Cincinnatus was still deeply involved in the painful inner struggle.The two people sitting on the driver's seat looked exactly the same from behind, skinny, gray and white, bent over.The sound of horseshoes rattling.The horse rope flies in circles like a satellite.The carriage sometimes overtakes some hurrying pilgrims (for example, the prison cook and his wife), who stop to shield themselves from the sun and dust, and then pick up their pace.After another turn, the road stretched towards the bridge, and it no longer slowly rotated around the fortress (the fortress was already showing a dilapidated appearance, and it looked disorganized from a distance, and something was loose, hanging in the air).

"I'm so sorry for being so angry," said M. Pierre tenderly. "Don't be mad at me, dear. You should understand how it hurts to see someone else do it when you put your heart and soul into your work." They crossed the bridge with the clatter of horseshoes.At this time, news of the execution was just beginning to spread in the city.Boys in red and blue attire ran after the wagon.An old man of Jewish blood pretending to be crazy, who had been fishing for non-existent fish in the dry river for many years, was also gathering his fishing tackle and hurriedly joined the first group of people rushing to Siril Square.

"... But it's no use dwelling on it," said M. Pierre. "Someone with my temper sometimes lashes out, but it passes quickly. We might as well focus on women's behavior." Shouting and shrieking, a few girls without hats bought all the flowers of a fat, sunburned florist, and the most daring girl threw a bouquet into the carriage, and almost lost it. The hat on Roman's head fell off.Monsieur Pierre stopped him with a wave of his forefinger. A few fat Dalmatians galloped after the horse's hooves, and the horse squinted at them with bleary eyes.The horse scrambled up Fa Yuen Street, and the crowd had already caught up—another bouquet of flowers was thrown onto the carriage.They were turning right now, past the vast ruins of the old factory, and down Telegraph Street, where musical instruments were being tuned, banging, whimpering, and beeping.And then through an unpaved, rustling alley, past a park where two bearded men in civilian clothes rose from their benches as soon as they saw the carriage, making an exaggerated gesture. gesturing, telling each other that the carriage was coming--both extremely excited, shoulders high--they started running to the same place with the rest, lifting their legs powerfully and awkwardly.Beyond the park, the huge white statue had been split in two—by lightning, the papers said.

"In a moment we shall pass your house," said M. Pierre very softly. Roman, beginning to fidget in the driver's seat, turned and called to Cincinnatus: "We'll be passing your house in a little while," he said, turning away again, bouncing up and down like a happy rascal. Cincinnatus didn't want to watch it, but he did.Marth sat among the branches of a barren apple tree, waving a handkerchief, while in the garden next door, among the sunflowers and hollyhocks, was a scarecrow with a rumpled coat and sleeves fluttering in the wind.The outer walls of the house, especially where the shadows of the trees had been, were strangely peeling off, and part of the roof was still there—but their carriage had already passed.

"Really, you are too cruel," sighed Mr. Pierre, and impatiently stabbed the coachman on the back with his crutches. The coachman stood up a little, and frantically waved the whip in his hand, creating a miracle : The old horse started to run. They continued down the street.The excitement in town continued to heat up.The colorful facades of the houses that lined the avenue wobbled as they were hastily decked out with welcoming posters.One small house was particularly beautifully decorated: its doors swung open, and a young man came out, followed by his whole family—he had just reached the age of witnessing executions on this day.His mother wept with joy, his grandmother stuffed a sandwich into his backpack, and his little brother handed him his cane.The old stone bridges flying across the streets (once useful to pedestrians, but now used only by watchers and street wardens) are already crowded with photographers.Mr. Pierre kept raising his hand to the brim of his hat to greet the crowd.Playboys on shiny mechanical bicycles pass by the wagons, craning their necks to watch.A man in Turkish trousers came out of a café with a bucket of confetti, but instead of spilling it onto the carriage, it fell onto the face of a man with cropped hair who had just passed from the opposite pavement. came running up, still carrying a welcome tray containing "bread and salt."

The statue of Captain Somonas was just hip-length legs, surrounded by roses—it must have been struck by lightning, too.Somewhere ahead a brass band was blaring the march "Little Pigeon."There are white clouds drifting across the whole sky, moving and stopping, I see the same few clouds drifting over and over again, I think there are only three kinds, I think they are all stage sets, with a suspicious green color Tune... "Well, well, look at your virtue, don't be a fool," said M. Pierre. "Are you really going to pass out? That's not manly." They have finally arrived.At that time, there were still relatively few spectators, but the crowd kept coming.In the center of the square—no, not the very center, that is the scariest place, where the scarlet platform of severed heads is placed.The old electric hearse in the city waited silently not far away.A mixed team of radio operators and firefighters was keeping order.The orchestra was clearly playing at full strength, as the one-legged crippled conductor was flailing his arms wildly, but at this point no sound could be heard.

Mr. Pierre lifted his chubby shoulders, got out of the carriage gracefully, and immediately turned around to help Cincinnatus, but Cincinnatus had already got out from the other side.Someone hissed. Rodrigo and Roman jumped down from the driver's seat, and the three of them clung to Cincinnatus. "I'll go by myself," said Cincinnatus. There were about twenty paces to the guillotine, and Cincinnatus had to trot in order not to let anyone touch him.Somewhere in the crowd a dog barks.Cincinnatus stopped before the crimson steps.Monsieur Pierre took his elbow. "I'll go by myself," said Cincinnatus. He mounted the platform with the large butcher's board, a smooth, sloping, polished oak plank large enough for a man to lie comfortably on with his arms outstretched.Monsieur Pierre also took the stage.There was a buzzing sound from the audience below the stage. They were busy throwing sawdust on the ground with pails, Cincinnatus was at a loss and had to lean on the wooden railing, but the railing began to shake slightly, and some curious spectators below reached out to touch his ankle.He walked away, breathing a little short, licking his lips, arms a little awkwardly across his chest as if it was the first time he was doing this, and he began to look around.The lighting had been rigged, the sun was out of order, and a piece of the sky was shaking.There are poplar trees planted around the square, but they are stiff and wobbly - one is slowly... But there was another buzz in the crowd: Rodrigo and Roman carried a heavy box, stumbled, gasped, muttered, walked up the steps, and slammed it down on the wooden floor.Monsieur Pierre took off his jacket, leaving only his vest.On his white bicep, tattooed a turquoise woman, the same woman standing in the front row of the crowd (despite the firemen's repeated persuasion, the crowd kept flocking to the guillotine), standing in front In a few rows were her two sisters, a little old man with a fishing rod, a dark-skinned flower girl, a young man with a cane, a brother-in-law of Cincinnatus, a librarian who was reading a newspaper, and There was Nikita Lukic, the burly engineer--Cincinnatus also noticed a man he used to run into every morning on his way to kindergarten, but couldn't remember his name.In the other rows after the first few rows, the eyes and mouth are not drawn very clearly.Beyond that, only layers of blurred faces could be seen, and each face was the same in the haze—the farthest rows seemed to be randomly smeared on the background curtain.Another poplar tree fell. The band suddenly stopped playing—more precisely, because it stopped and people realized that it had been playing just now.There was a musician, fat and gentle, who took the instrument apart and flicked the drool out of the shiny joints.Behind the band is a lifeless, green allegorical landscape: colonnades, cliffs, soapy cascades. The city deputy jumped onto the stage with quick vigor (Cincinnatus flinched involuntarily), raised one foot on the chopping block informally (he was good at giving speeches with ease), and announced aloud: "Citizens! Just a few words. There's been a tendency in our streets lately where some young people walk so fast that we old people have to step aside and even fall into puddles. I also want to tell you , there will be a furniture exhibit at the corner of First and Brigdeal the day after tomorrow, and I sincerely hope to see you all there. I would also like to remind you that tonight's new burlesque, Socrates Must Die will be a huge success. I was also asked to tell you that the Kiefer Distribution Center is getting an influx of women's belts. Now I'm making way for the other performers. Citizens, I wish you all good health, Nothing is missing." Equally nimble, he slipped between the railings and leaped down from the stage, and there were murmurs of satisfaction from the audience.Monsieur Pierre had put on his white apron (boots peeked out from under it), was carefully wiping his hands with a towel, and looking around with calm, kind eyes.As soon as the deputy city executive had finished speaking, he threw the towel to the assistant and walked over to Cincinnatus. (The square black lens in the hands of the photographers shakes for a while, then freezes.) "Please don't get excited, don't get flustered," said M. Pierre. "First we have to take off your shirt." "I'll do it myself," said Cincinnatus. "That's manly. Take the little shirt off, fellas. Now I'll show you how to lie down." Monsieur Pierre threw himself on the cutting board.There was a buzz from the audience. "Do you understand now?" asked Monsieur Pierre, jumping up and straightening the apron (it came apart at the back and Rodrigo helped him fasten it). "Okay, here we go. The light is a bit harsh... Maybe you can... Yes, fine. Thank you. A little more... Great! Now I'm going to ask you to lie down." "I'll do it myself, I'll do it myself," Cincinnatus said, laying down on his face as a model, but immediately covered the back of his neck with his hands. "What a silly boy," said M. Pierre condescendingly. "You do this, how can I... (Yes, that's it. Now bring the bucket over here). But why are your muscles contracted so much? There shouldn't be a little bit of tension. Relax completely. Move your hands away , please... (bring me the dick). Completely relax and count out loud." "Count to ten," Cincinnatus said. "What are you talking about, my friend?" said Monsieur Pierre, as if to make him repeat himself, and added softly, already beginning to raise his hand, "Stand back a little, gentlemen." "Count to ten," Cincinnatus repeated, arms outstretched. "I haven't done anything yet," said Monsieur Pierre, obviously out of breath, but his waving shadow had run along the planks of the stage as Cincinnatus began counting loudly and calmly. Counting: One Cincinnatus is counting, but the other Cincinnatus has long since stopped paying attention to the unnecessary counting sound, which is fading away in the distance.With a clarity he had never had—it came so suddenly, it was almost painful at first, but it filled him with joy afterwards, and he thought to himself: Why am I here?Why am I lying like this?After asking himself these simple questions, he responded with action: Get up and look around. All around was a strange chaos.The railing can be seen through the hangman's still swinging buttocks.The pale-faced librarian sat on the steps, bent over and throwing up.The spectators are very transparent and incompetent, and they all continue to scatter—only the back rows, because they are painted, remain where they are.Cincinnatus walked slowly off the stage and was about to leave the scene through the moving debris when Roman overtook him.At this time, Roman has shrunk many times, and he is also Rodrigo: "What are you doing!" He said in a low and hoarse voice while jumping. "You can't do this, you can't do this! It's dishonest to him, to everyone... Come back, lie down—after all, you just lay down, everything is ready, everything is done!" Cincinnatus pushed him aside, and he fled with a mournful cry, thinking only of his own safety. There is little left in the square.The platform had already collapsed in a cloud of pale red dust.The last to run past the stage was a woman in a black shawl, holding the ghostly infant executioner in her arms.The fallen trees are lying on the ground, flat and have no three-dimensional effect, while the standing trees are only two-dimensional, only the slight difference in the horizontal color of the trunk can remind people of a circle, and only their branches are hanging in the air and are tearing. on the mesh structure.Everything is falling apart.Everything is falling.A whirlwind was speeding up, whirling, dust, rags, pieces of painted wood, bits of gilt-painted plaster, cardboard bricks, and posters, flying darkly and swiftly.Among the floating dust, among the falling sundries, and among the floating scenery, Cincinnatus was walking in one direction, judging from the sound, there were his relatives there.