Chapter 36 Chapter 15 Basement Basement (2)

Nechayev's fingers traced the floor at his feet (his fingers were wet when he stooped to touch the ground), pointed through the darkened window to the sky. "It's over there. But where do you expect them to start? They'll start with the government, they'll start with the Treasury, they'll start with the stock exchange, they'll start with the commercial banks. They'll start with ministers and officials in Europe. The chain of violence starts there , radiate to all levels, and finally there is such a basement, such an abject underground life. If you can write these, your understanding of this world will be considered clear. But, of course—” He smiled wryly ———"If you write like this, you don't expect to be published. They can only let you write stories about the poor suffering silently, so that you can feel satisfied and praise you for writing about the poor. As for the real reality, they You will never be allowed to publish it! That's why I'm offering you this printing house. Get started! Tell them why your stepson gave his life."

Give your life.Maybe he was in a trance, maybe it was just fatigue, he couldn't figure out how and for whom Pavel gave his life.Nor was he moved by the vehement rhetoric.He was not in the mood to listen to such rhetoric. "I only look at what I see," he said coldly. "I can't see that many chains." "Then you are still blindfolded! Do I have to teach you a lesson? You are shocked to see the miserable faces of these poor, sick and hungry. But poverty, sickness and hunger are not the enemy, they are just real violence in the world Ways to show strength. Hunger is not a power—hunger is a medium, just like water is a medium. Poor people live in hunger, just like fish live in water, and real violence comes from the center of power, until it happens The source can only be found where there is collusion of interests. You said that you were afraid of your name appearing on our list. I promise you again, I swear to you, you are not on the list. Those on our list are all sitting Spiders and leeches at the center of the web of power. Once we get rid of the spiders and destroy the webs, children like this will be freed. Children all over Russia will be able to come out of the basement. Food, clothing, There is a place to live, everyone has a place to live, and a job—a lot of jobs! But at present, our first job is to raze these banks on the ground first, followed by the stock exchange, government agencies , wipe them all out, and never build them again."

The children seemed to be listening at first, but lost interest after a while.The youngest one had already slipped to her sister's place leaning against the wall, and was now asleep on her lap.The older sister looked younger than Matrona, dull and dull, which surprised him.Has she reached the age of saying "yes" to men? Their quiet viewing is also rather odd.Nechayev hadn't spoken to them since he entered the door, either because he knew their names and a few gestures were enough.Typical specimens of urban poverty—did they mean more to Nechayev?Do I have to teach you a lesson?He remembered Princess Obolenskaya's harsh comment: the young Nechayev already wanted to be a headmaster, but he couldn't even pass the minimum qualification examination. In order to get revenge, he could only start a revolution against the examination his people.At heart, Nechayev is just a pedantic teacher?Like his spiritual mentor Jean-Jacques?

And the chain, he wasn't sure what the chain Nechayev was referring to.He didn't have to wait for someone to tell him that the banker was saving money, the banker's greed was drying up his heart.Konechayev seems to be insisting on something else all the time.What exactly is it?Can a string of numbers pass through the window paper to impress these hungry children? His head began to dizzy again.teach you a lesson.He took a deep breath. "Have you got five rubles?" he asked. Nechaev fumbled absently in his pocket. "This little girl,"—he nodded at the child—"if you give her a good bath, a haircut, and a new suit of clothes, I can show you where She can make a hundred rubles in the evening, that is, from the five rubles you invested. If you keep her well-bred, clean, not overused, and allow her to get sick, at least for the next five years , she can continue to earn you five rubles a night. It's easy to do."

"what---" "Listen to me. There are enough kids in the basements of Peterborough, and enough gentlemen in the streets of Peterborough with money in their pockets, interested in the younger generation, willing to give their pocket money to all the poor in town What we need is a cool head. Follow the children of these people, and the children who live in the basement will gradually walk out into the sun." "What on earth do you mean by this rotten metaphor?" "I'm not talking figuratively. Like you, I'm outraged by the suffering of innocent people. I'm not criticizing you, Sergei Gennadevich. For a long time, I couldn't bring myself to Believe my son actually came after you, now I know what he sees in you. You were born with a sense of justice and it hasn't been suffocated. I dare say if this child, this little girl in front of you, if Some Petersburg swinger lures into an alley, and you happen to run into them—if you've been secretly protecting her—you don't hesitate to stick a knife in the guy's back and save her. Kill her. Or, if you save her too late, you will at least avenge her.

"It's not an analogy. It's a story, a story about little children and their usefulness. With the help of a kid in Peterborough Street, you can get rid of a leech, maybe even a banker's leech. In the right At that time, the wife and children of the deceased will be driven to the street, which will eventually lead to changes in the next round of evaluation standards." "You pig!" "No, you've misplaced me in this story. I'm not a pig, I'm not the one who got killed in an alley like a pig. I'll say it again: it's not a metaphor, it's a story. The story tells It's all other people's business: No one is forcing you to find a place for yourself in the story. However, if the spirit of justice does not allow you to ignore the innocent children's suffering, there are still many ways to punish those who capture Children's spiders don't have to pretend to be children. For example, make up a child to lead a man into a dark alley. He just needs to shave off his beard, put some powder on his face, put on a woman's dress, and walk carefully in the dark That's it."

Nechayev now smiles, or just shows his teeth. "You haven't written any of this in any of your books! It's just your ridiculous cover-up!" "Perhaps. I have a question, though. If you are free today to shed your pretense, to be who you want to be, and to live out your righteous spirit (which I believe has always been in you), tomorrow you will What to do? Once the passions of the masses have their own way, will everyone be re-evaluated? Can you still be the person you want to be? Ultimately, each of us can be the person we want to be Is that kind of person?" "We don't have to think about it that much."

"No need to think about clothes? No need to even think about those carnival days?" "It's so stupid to talk like that. There's no need to think about those carnival days." "Is there no need to think about the carnival days? No need to think about those holidays?" "There will only be days of rebuilding. The people will have the option to rest and they will go to the countryside to help with the harvest." "Yes, I've heard about those harvest days. No doubt we'll be singing as we go. Still, I want to get back to my question. What about me? I'm supposed to be in your utopia In what position? You should allow me to dress up as a woman? If the spirit of justice guides me, I will dress up as a dandy in white, and you will allow me to use only one name, one address, one age, one identity?"

"It's not for me to answer you. The people will give you their answer. The people will tell you what they allow you to do." "But what did you say, Sergei Gennadevich? If you are not a member of the people, then what are you and what future do you have? Will I still have such freedom? Pretending to be anyone—for example, a young man who, to pass his idle hours, writes down a list of those whom he dislikes for bloody punishment; or a shopkeeper , whose job is to gather sawdust under the guillotine? Will I have such and such freedom? Or should I take to heart what you said in Geneva: We have enough Copernicus. If there is another Copernicus Ni rises, then, should he gouge out his own eyes?"

"You're incoherent. You're not Copernicus." "That's right, I'm not Copernicus. When I look up at the sky, all I see is a sky full of stars watching us, from birth to death, no matter how we pretend, no matter how deep we hide in the basement, they Always watching us." "I'm not hiding, I'm just hidden among the people of this city, hidden in the environment that produced me. It's just that you can't see these environments." "Shall I tell you the truth? You're talking nonsense. Maybe I didn't see those chains and numbers in the sky, but I'm not blind."

"To not see this is to be blind! You see children starving in basements; you refuse to see the circumstances that determine the conditions of these children's lives. How can you call that seeing? But of course, you and paying Whoever gave it to you did help these starving blind-eyed kids. That's what you and them like to read about: Feelings, blind-eyed kids with a high-pitched voice. Well, let me Tell you what hunger really feels like. When they look at you, do you know what these starving kids see in you? Ask them! I'll tell you, they see fat cheeks and a relishing tongue. These innocent kids would jump on you like rats and chew you up if they didn't know you were strong enough to knock them down. But you'd rather not realize This. What you'd rather see is a brief visit from three angels. "The more I tell you, Fyodor Mikhailovich, the harder it is for me to understand how you can write about Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov is at least Live till he comes down with a fever, or whatever. You know what you make of me now? You're spinning around like a blindfolded horse, producing the same thing day after day Story. What right do you have to talk to me about dressing up? You're not going to dress up to save yourself. You're just a dry old man, a dry old horse who's had a good time, and you're nothing but that. You only know how to sit at home and write books, write about oppressed people, and count your royalties. Isn’t it time for you to experience the suffering of oppressed people? I think you can’t sit still, I guess you must want to Hurry up and go home, and write this basement and these children into the book before the memory fades away. You make me sick!"