Chapter 5 Chapter 4

The sound of water came from behind the wall—the summer camp duty officer said sorry and came out to wash.I woke the man who was dozing peacefully to the sound of music played on a battered Chinese-made tape recorder.One thing I do not understand is how it is possible to fall asleep in a Vysotsky song?To be honest, this broken thing can only listen to playing and singing songs: "It's over, please forgive me..." The attendant on duty came out of the small bathroom, wiping his face with a checkered towel issued by the government.I am drowsy. I nodded my head in understanding.The tape recorder was still playing music, superficially adding more hoarse voices to Vysotsky.

The camp attendant frowned and turned down the volume to the point where it was barely audible.He held out his hand: "Peter." "Alyssa." He seemed to be greeting a man.Immediately I felt a distance in his firm handshake, "It's just-work-relationship..." This is also very good.The short, skinny man looked like a teenager himself, and he didn't particularly excite me.Naturally, I intend to take a lover while on vacation, but preferably someone younger and sweeter.But Peter is no less than thirty-five years old, and I can read him like an open book even if I don't have the ability of others.A model family man—I mean a man who hardly cheats on his wife, doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, and spends his due time on the education of his children, who is probably the only one out of ten.Responsible, loves his job, can safely hand over a group of small children or troublesome teenagers: he will wipe their nose for them, talk to them from the bottom of their hearts, take their vodka bottles from their hands, and tell them about smoking They will arrange a lot of work and rest, and teach them to keep them busy.

In short, this is the embodiment of the Lightbringer ideal, not a human being of flesh and blood. "Nice to meet you," I said, "I've long dreamed of coming to 'Artek'. It's a pity that under these circumstances..." Peter sighed. "Yes, stop. We are all sorry for Nasdeka... Are you friends with her?" "No. I'm two grades lower than her. To be honest, I can't even remember what she looks like..." Peter nodded and started checking my papers.I am not afraid of meeting Nastya, it is even more likely that she will not remember my face - Zaburon always considers the details carefully, if "Artec" has no other, then It means that someone came from Yalta or Simferopol, came to see Nastya for a while... and now she will remember me.

"Ever worked as a counselor before?" "Did, but... certainly not in 'Altec'." "So what?" Peter shrugged. "Twenty-three hundred staff members, that's all the difference." The tone in which he said it didn't quite match him.He is proud of "Altek", as if he personally held a submachine gun, snatched it from the hands of fascists, built buildings, planted trees, and built "Altec" with his own hands. I smiled, and my whole expression said: I don't believe it, but out of politeness, I keep silent. "Nastya works at the 'Blue Battalion'," Peter said, "I'll take you there, and Naska should be up anyway. We have a car for Simferopol at five o'clock in the morning... You've had a good trip eh, Alyssa?"

"Very well," I said, "I came here in a private car." Peter frowned. "Maybe he was slaughtered?" "No, no, nothing." I said immediately. "In any case it's a bit of a risk," Peter added, "for young, pretty girls to hitchhike alone at night with unknown drivers." "There are two of them," I said, "and they're interested in each other." Peter didn't understand my words, sighed and said: "I don't need to teach you, Alyssa, you are a mature adult. But you understand - anything can happen! 'Artec' - this is a children's paradise, full of love, friendship, justice This is the few pure lands we can preserve! But outside the summer camp... there are all kinds of people."

"There are all kinds of people..." I echoed.It is astonishing how sincerely he uttered these impassioned words!He does believe that. "Okay," Peter stood up and lifted my bag gently, "let's go, Alyssa." "I can go by myself, just tell me the way..." "Alyssa!" He shook his head reproachfully. "You will get lost! Our camp has two hundred and fifty hectares! Let's go." "Yeah, Makar got a little lost," I agreed. Peter was already standing at the door, but he turned sharply: "Makar? That boy of fifteen or sixteen is at the gate again?"

I nodded in panic. "Got it..." he said coldly. We walked into the warm summer night.It was daylight, and Peter took the flashlight out of his pocket, but didn't turn it on.We walked along the path towards the shore. "This Makar is really troublesome," Peter said as he walked. "What's the matter?" "He sleeps too little... You see..." Peter replied unhappily. "Sometimes he ran to the doorman, now he ran to the sea, and sometimes he ran out of the camp." "I thought it was the Pioneer's sentry at the entrance," I said.

"Alyssa!" Answers like that from Peter sounded great.He conveys a wealth of emotion with just a spoken name. "Kids should be sleeping at night! Not standing guard at the entrance to the barracks, at the flame or whatever... And all normal kids sleep at night and fall asleep after a good fuss before bed. They run again during the day Enough dancing again..." We reached the stone path, the gravel rustling under his feet.I took off my sandals and walked barefoot.There are hard, cold pebbles under your feet...it even feels comfortable. "On the one hand, tell the guards," said Peter, "to tell them to just throw the little one away. But what? Bind him to a bed? Better sit him among the grown-ups." , everyone can see it, it's better than him running to swim in the sea alone at night..."

"Then why would he do that?" "He said that three hours of sleep a day is enough for him..." There was a certain sadness and pity in Peter's voice.He's clearly one of those people who's much more interesting to talk to on the phone or in the dark--a dull face with little facial expression and yet a kaleidoscopic tone in his voice! "It's enough to see him running around during the day. It's just that the problem is not here..." "Where's that?" I knew, and he waited to ask. "I don't want to let go from this summer, from 'Artek', from my childhood," he seemed to be contemplating at this time, "For the first and last time to 'Artek', he lived Is there anything better in it?"

"How—the first time, and the last time? The little boy said..." "He's a kid from an orphanage," Peter explained, "yes, he's already a big boy. He might not be able to come to our place again. Of course, now a kid can come to us as many times as he wants, but There is a fee, and the charitable ones take turns..." I even took a step back. "The orphanage? But he's so sure..." "They are very sure of what they said..." Peter said calmly, "Probably, they are talking about irrelevant things, right? My parents are businessmen, and they come to 'Altek' three times a year, and they plan to go to Hawaii in autumn... . . . they want to believe it themselves, so they fantasize about it. Little kids—as they often do, the older ones—think less. He might like you, though."

"I don't say that." "At this age you don't express affection ..." Peter said very seriously, "love and hate are generally confused, and in childhood ... you know, Alyssa ... I have a small suggestion ..." "yes?" "You're a pretty girl, and we're a kid's camp here with a lot of big boys anyway. I'm not asking you to go without make-up or anything, but... try not to wear this miniskirt. It's too short too gone." "It's not that the skirt is short," I replied innocently, "it's because my legs are too long." Peter shot me sideways and shook his head reproachfully. "Sorry, I was kidding," I said quickly, "Of course I wouldn't wear it. I have jeans, suit shorts, and even a maxi dress. Swimsuits are tight too!" Then we walked on in silence. I don't know what Peter is thinking.Maybe I'm thinking about whether I'm suitable for education, maybe I'm worried about my protected person.Maybe, in blaming the world as a whole for being imperfect.He could figure it out. And when I thought of the boy who had lied to me so badly, I couldn't help but smile slightly. It is him - our future comrade-in-arms. The Dark Emissary of the future. Even if he is not the other, doomed to live a dull human life, but people like him are the strength we can rely on after all. The problem wasn't the teasing, certainly not that.Lightbringer loves to joke too.But the kind of tricks that little boys do - taking a girl who doesn't know the terrain to a park late at night and leaving her there, chest out proud, pretending to be a rich kid from a well-to-do family ... that's what we have of. Loneliness, confusion, scorn or pity from those around you—these are some unpleasant feelings.But it is these things that give birth to the real messengers of darkness, to give birth to people or others who are branded with independent self-esteem, have a proud heart, and yearn for freedom. What kind of person will a boy from a wealthy family who literally spends every summer by the seaside, who studies at a good school, has strict plans for the future, and learns a lot of manners grow up to be?Contrary to popular opinion, he is not necessarily close to us.Even for the Messenger of Light, it may not be suitable.It's like a piece of shit in a hole in the ice--some minor misdeeds, some insignificant benevolence, lovely wives and lovely lovers, murdering bosses, promoting friends... vulgar.Not worth a penny.Not even an enemy, but not an ally either.And the true messenger of light, it should be admitted, can make people respect.Even if he is against us, even if his purpose cannot be achieved, and the method-absurd, but he is a worthy opponent, just like Semyon and Anton of the Night Watch Patrol... The so-called good people are as far away from us as they are from the Lightbringers. And lone wolves like Makar—a strength we can count on. Knowing that there will be battles waiting for him, he will grow.Knowing that he is alone - against all, knowing that it's not worth waiting for sympathy and help, just as it's not worth abusing pity and compassion, not wishing to benefit the world but not doing something stupid to those around you Despicable deeds, to develop his own will and character, he will not compromise.If this boy has the gift of others, the rare and unforeseeable ability to enter the dark world that is different from us and ordinary people, then he will join us.But even as a human being, he couldn't help helping the Day Watchers, just like so many others. "Come here, Alyssa..." We came to a small building.The lanai, the open windows, one of which was dimly lit... "It's a small summer house," Peter told me. "The Blue Camp has four main cottages and eight summer cottages. You know, I find it much more comfortable to live here in the summer." He seemed to be apologetic that my care receiver and I would be living in the summer cottage.I can't help but ask: "What about winter?" "No one lives here in winter," Peter said solemnly. "Although our winter is very warm here, the living conditions for children are still not up to par." He easily switched to speaking in an official tone.He seemed to be lecturing a worried mother—"The temperature is right, the living conditions are comfortable, and the diet is balanced." We went up to the balcony.I feel a little excited. Seems to feel... feel, I've felt... this... Nastya was a little dark girl with some Tatar features.Lovely girl, only now her expression is too sad and tense. "Hello, Alya..." She nodded to me as if she were an old friend.We're old friends in a way—she's been led to false memories, apparently. —Look, that's how it goes... I don't look around the room anymore - there's nothing special about it anyway.Common counselor's room: bed, closet, table and chair. Bitter Winter small refrigerators and cheap black-and-white televisions seem like luxuries here. However, I am not demanding... "Nastya, everything will be fine," I told her hypocritically.The girl just nodded wearily, probably, she had been nodding for the past day and night. "It's great that you flew over so soon." She picked up the packed bag from the ground, which was the only thing Peter could take. "Have you ever worked in 'Artek'?" "No." Nastya frowned.There might be hints of confusion, but the girl couldn't care less about that now. "I still have time to catch an early flight," she said. "Bieja, do you have a car for Simferopol?" "In an hour." Peter nodded. The female counselor glanced at me. "I've said goodbye to the girls," she said, "so it shouldn't surprise anyone. You transform them, and I love them all, and I'll... find a way to come back." Suddenly her eyes glistened with tears—it seemed that she understood what one of the many possibilities of returning soon was. "Nastya..." I hugged her shoulders, "everything will be fine, your mother will be fine..." Nastya's small face was wrinkled into a sickly ugliness. "She has never been ill!" she said suddenly excitedly, "Never!" Peter coughed softly.Nastya lowered her eyelids and fell silent. Of course, there are different ways to quickly send me to work in "Artek", but Zaburon always prefers the easiest way.Nastya's mother was bedridden with a severe infarction, and the girl flew back to Moscow, where the school sent another female student to the summer camp to replace her.Everything couldn't be easier. It was quite possible that Nastya's mother would have a constriction sooner or later: maybe a year later, maybe five years later.Zaburon always carefully considered the balance of power.Infarcting a perfectly healthy woman—this is a fourth-level intervention, which automatically gives the Lightbringer the right to use a corresponding spell of the same power. Nastya's mother was almost likely to survive.Zaburon doesn't like senseless cruelty.If the desired effect can be achieved by making the woman seriously ill, why take her life? So I can comfort my seniors.It's just a long story. "This is the record book, I wrote down some things in it..." Nasca handed me a thin-covered exercise book for elementary school students.The cover features a pop singer foolishly posing on stage, "Ah... these are all trivial things, but maybe it works. Be a little more special with a few girls..." I nod.Nastya waved her hand suddenly and said: "Really, why am I telling you this? You'll handle it well." But she still spent about fifteen minutes explaining the rules and regulations to me, making me pay special attention to girls who were too precocious for her age to flirt with boys, and advising me not to ask them to quiet down after they fought : "Fifteen minutes is enough for them to talk, at most - half an hour..." Then Peter quietly pointed to her watch.Nastya fell silent.She slapped me on the cheek and lifted the handbag and a cardboard box—fruit for a sick mother or something? "Good luck, Alyssa..." At last I was left alone. There was a stack of clean sheets on the bed.Light bulbs glow dimly under crude glass shades.The footsteps of Peter and Nastya, their soft conversation quickly died away. leave me alone. No, not quite alone, behind two thin walls, eighteen little girls of eleven or twelve years old were sleeping only five steps away in the corridor. I suddenly trembled, a slight tremor of the nerves, as if I had become a beginner again trying to absorb the power of others for the first time.Perhaps Nabokov's Humbert would have shuddered in my place. Seriously, compared to what I'm about to do now, his madness about Goddesses is just downright childish naughtiness... I turned on the light and tiptoed into the aisle.It would be great if I had the ability of others now! That is to say, I have to use what is left over from ordinary people... The hallway was long and the floor boards creaked.Scrubbing the trail didn't help either, and my footsteps were easily heard.All hope is that at this dawn, the little girls are still sound asleep, still in their dreams... Childish, sincere, simple dream. I opened the door a little and went into the bedroom.For some reason, I look forward to seeing some kind of iron bed in a public house, I don’t know whether it is an orphanage or a hospital. I look forward to seeing the dim light of the lights in the duty room, curtains like a curtain, and a child sleeping soundly in the "attention" position. we... Yet everything is very lovely.Only the light from the street lamps standing in the street.Faint shadows are swaying, and the fresh sea breeze blows to the open windows, wafting the smell of various field flowers.There was an occasional glimmer of light on the screen of the turned off TV in the corner, and there were a few paintings on the wall—watercolours and pencil drawings that were bright and cheerful even in the half-light. The girls are fast asleep. Lying on their respective beds in a mess, or on the contrary, covered their heads and wrapped them in the quilt.Everything is neatly placed on the bedside table, or the laundry—wet bathing suits, skirts, jeans, socks—is draped over the bed and chair backs.A good psychologist would have had a complete picture of these girls after a nightly tour of the bedrooms... I don't need this impression. I walked slowly from bed to bed, straightened the sheets that had fallen, and lifted my hands and feet from the floor.The girls slept soundly.Asleep, not dreaming of anything... I got lucky when it came to the seventh girl.She was eleven years old, plump, with light hair.An ordinary little girl who choked and sobbed softly in her dreams. She had a nightmare... I squatted down beside the bed.I reached out and touched her forehead.The movement is very light, only touching with fingertips. I feel empowered. Now, because of the loss of otherness, I would not be able to read ordinary dreams.But when you feel you can absorb it, it's a different story.Everything happens at the level of animal reactions, like a baby's instinctive reaction to sucking. So I saw... This is an ominous dream.The girl dreamed that she came home. This summer camp is not over yet. She was called home because her mother was sick.Her sad-faced, depressed father pulled her onto the bus, and she didn't even have time to say goodbye to the girls, take a last dip in the sea, and bring some special pebbles with her... She fought fiercely , begging my father to wait, but my father is getting more and more fierce... He whispered something shameful, saying that a little girl of this age should not be whipped, but since she behaved like this, let her Forget the promise not to whip her again... It was indeed a bad dream.Nastya's departure had too much impact on the children... Anyone would try to help the kid at this point. Ordinary people—would have stroked her head, whispered something sweet, perhaps sung a lullaby...in short, tried to interrupt her dreams.If it was the Messenger of Light—he would definitely use his power to reverse the dream, make his father laugh, say that his mother was in good health, and run to the sea with the little girl... he would replace the cruel but realistic dream with a sweet lie. I am - the Dark Emissary. I did what I could to draw on her power.Absorbed into oneself the sad father and the sick mother, the forever lost girlfriend and the forgotten pebbles of the sea, and the humiliating whip. The little girl let out a faint squeaking sound like a pinned down mouse, and then began to breathe evenly and calmly. There is not much power in a child's dream.This is not a murder ritual that we use to threaten the Lightbringers, it is not a murder that directly releases huge energy.It's a dream, just a dream... A nourishing soup for sick witches... I stand up.I feel dizzy.No, I haven't gotten the energy I depleted just yet.It would take dozens of such dreams to fill the gap wide open. But these dreams do come.I will try my best. None of the girls dreamed anymore.No, a girl had a dream—but it wasn't the dream I needed, a girl's silly dream about some freckled little boy.He gave her a ridiculous little stone with a small hole that he picked up at random: chicken god.What's the matter? For chickens, there is a chicken god... I stood by the girl's bed for a while - she was probably the youngest of them all, even her breasts were protruding a bit.I touched her forehead lightly, trying to find something.It's empty.The sea, the sun, the sand, the splash, and that little boy.There is no malice, jealousy, or sadness.A light mage could draw power here, drink her dreams—and leave contented.But I have nothing to do here. It's okay, night, there's a new night to come.The old nightmares would come back to the chubby blood donor - I chose all her fears, but didn't remove their triggers.When the nightmare comes back, I can help her again.The main thing is not to try too hard, and not to drive the little girl to the point where she has a real nervous breakdown, which I have no right to.Otherwise a major intervention is going to befall the place, and as long as there is even one observer from the Lightbringers in the camp, or someone from the court, who knows, the dark can make any joke - then I'm in big trouble. I will never let Zawulong down again! will never! As amazing as it may be, he forgave me for everything I did last summer.But there will be no second forgiveness. At ten o'clock in the morning I went to have breakfast with my care receiver. Nastya is quite right - I can handle it. No, at first, the girls were a little alert when they first woke up.How could they not be alert when the counselor they had grown to like, Nastia, left them at night to see their sick mother, and she was replaced by another strange girl who didn't look like Nastia at all? Woolen cloth?I immediately felt eighteen pairs of eyes looking at me cautiously, even unfriendlyly, and felt that they were all together and I was alone. The fact that the girls are young and I'm so pretty is scary. If they were replaced by a group of young boys of the same age—my appearance wouldn't matter a bit.Even the ugliest puppy is more interesting to a ten-year-old boy than the most beautiful girl.If my group of caretakers were two years older—then, on the contrary, my appearance would greatly irritate them. For ten-year-old girls, beautiful women are the objects of their praise.The instinct to show off and the desire to please had grown in them, but they had not yet understood that not all men were destined to be beautiful.I know, I was the same way back then, when I stared at my guardian witch, Irina Andreyevna, with a pair of big eyes... I quickly found a common language with the girls. I quietly sat down by Olenchka's bed, and according to the records, she was the quietest and most timid girl.I talked to the kids about Nastya, how bad it would be if their mother was sick, how they shouldn't be angry with Nastya...she wanted so much to stay with them, but mother...it was the worst thing in life important. When I finished, Olenchka began to sob and sob, and leaned against me.The eyes of the other children were also moist. So I talked about my father, about his myocardial infarction, about the heart disease being treated well now, and about Nastia's mother being fine.I braided the little dark-skinned Cossack girl Gurinara—she has wonderful hair, but, as Nastya said, she is a slow girl.I debated for a while with Tanya from Petersburg what to take to make "Artek" more interesting - by train or by plane.Of course, conceding in the end that she was right - train rides are so much more fun.I promised Anya from Rostov that in the evening she would learn to swim and not have to float on the surface in shallow water with her hands and pedals.We talked for a while about the solar eclipse that would occur in three days and three nights, lamenting that the one in Crimea would be a little incomplete. We were a friendly and jovial bunch when we went to breakfast.Only Olga, the girl who was forbidden to be called Olenika, but "O Liga", and her companion Lyudmila were a little bit dissatisfied.This was not surprising, they were obviously favored by Nastya. It's okay...they'll all like me in three days. And the surroundings are indeed wonderful! Crimea in August - it's amazing.The sea below was glowing, and the air smelled of salt water and flowers.The little girls screamed and pushed each other back and forth.Maybe the Young Pioneers camp catchphrase wasn't a random idea—you can't scream when your mouth is busy singing. But I don't know slogan songs, I don't know how to march in procession. I am the messenger of darkness. In the cafeteria I simply let my care receivers move freely—they know where to sit.There was a lot of noise around, and five hundred children of different ages had to finish their meals amidst the noise.I sat quietly among my group of little girls, trying to observe the environment.Anyway, I'm going to be here for a whole month. Twenty-five counselors came to breakfast with their team.Any sliver of pride I had in quickly becoming comfortable with my care receiver evaporated quickly.These guys and girls are more like their big brothers and sisters with this group of little boys and girls.They are sometimes stern, sometimes kind - but always authoritative and beloved. Where did they pick such a good candidate? My mood turned sour.I lazily flipped through the "pork liver fritters" that were handed out for breakfast with buckwheat porridge and cocoa milk, and thought sadly of the unenviable situation of being a combat member in someone else's territory.There was so much excitement, smiles, and good-natured teasing all around.The messenger of light should come here to take care of these children and educate the future generations of human beings with love and kindness, instead of letting me live in darkness. It's all false!It's all polished and gilded! Of course, I comfort myself, if I look at my surroundings with the eyes of others—a lot can be changed.Among these lovely people one can find scumbags, perverts, villains, ruthless people... It's just not true!It's entirely possible that you won't find that kind of person.They were all sincere—as sincere as they could be.Sincere, and loving kids, summer camp, and each other.This is indeed a sanctuary for the idiots the Lightbringers fantasize about turning the whole world into. And this also means that the actions of the Lightbringer still have a certain basis in the final analysis... "Hello……" I looked back to see the little boy walking past me.Haha, it's an acquaintance...more precisely, my first acquaintance in "Altek". "Good morning, Makar." I squinted at his broken knee and asked, "Where's the iodine?" "It's okay, it will grow by itself." The half-grown child muttered.He looked at me with some concern - he seemed to want to know if I had learned something about him. "Hurry up, or you won't have time to eat..." I smiled at him, "Maybe, three hours of sleep is enough for you, but food is another matter. The food here is also public, but it's delicious." He walked away quickly along the table.He knew, and I already knew his nocturnal adventures, his real social status.If I'm in shape, I can definitely absorb a lot of power... "Alyssa, how do you know him?" Olenchka asked me aloud. I made a face: "I know everything about everyone..." "Why?" asked Olenchka curiously. "Because I'm a—witch!" I whispered to her in a low, dark voice. The girl smiled happily. Yeah, yeah, it's ridiculous...especially because it's absolutely true...I patted her head and pointed to the full plate with my eyes. Now all I need to do is go through the formal process of meeting the leaders of the "Blue Battalion".And then there's what the little girls have been clamoring for - the beach...the sea... Honestly, I know I've been waiting for this moment with as much excitement as I've been waiting for the night to come.Even a vampire, contrary to popular belief, loves the sea and the sun, even though I am a dark messenger. I went to Jurmala, Latvia at the end of last summer.I don't know why it's there-maybe want to go to a place that is not very comfortable.I was lucky in this sense: it was a cool, dreary and rainy August.The staid Latvian waiter estimated my order and immediately spoke Russian to me. Although it thought it was a four-star hotel, the service was as simple as it was in the Soviet era.I wandered all over Jurmala: I sat for a long time in a small beer shop on Maiori Street, I walked on the wet sand of the deserted beach, and I went to Riga every night.There were two attempts to rob me and one attempt to rape me.I had fun... I had other powers then, and no one in the world could hurt me.There was a sad, empty heart, and yet too much strength to use. Then, one day it all got tiresome.It's suddenly tiresome.Possibly due to the capture of two of my Night's Watch patrolmen in Zinta, who have long been attempting to intervene in an undiscovered crime involving wizards of the third rank.Their manners are impeccable and absolutely unrelenting.Maybe the Red Archer in Latvia, and later - "Forest Brothers" was like that.Latvians are a nation that pays great attention to continuity - once you are committed to something, you will stick to it to the end... I fought back the accusations, they had absolutely no proof.Fly to Moscow the next morning.In this way, I didn't even have a good swim in the whole summer... But now I can get my money back. Everything is going well and it's business as usual.I met the woman in charge of the Blue Battalion—a lovely woman, dry and laconic.It seemed that we were very pleased with each other when we parted. Maybe it's because I'm wearing a pair of thin summer jeans today instead of an alluring miniskirt? I finally got some sun and a swim. The beach of "Artec" is wonderful, but the children's shouting is too loud.And these, whether you like it or not, are inevitable disasters.My little girls are professionally scurrying around in the hot sun to achieve an even tan.Almost half have sunscreen and after-sun lotion, which they share generously with each other so they don't cry out at night with sore shoulders and backs. If it is not necessary to look at the little girls from time to time... I imagine that I have swum two or three kilometers away, spreading my hands, lying on the water... looking at the clear and transparent sky, shaking on the gentle waves, Thinking nothing, listening nothing... But no.I had to look after them, to teach Anya to swim, and Verachka, on the contrary, because she was an adult for the first time, could not let her swim.Gotta get the girls into the shade - sunscreen to sunscreen, rules to rules... anyway, here's the thing, besides the beautiful sea I got eighteen capricious, yelling, rowdy little presents as a workload.Only the thought of tonight makes me smile.Then it's my turn to settle accounts with the most annoying little girls—Verachka, Olga, and Lyudmila, I'm sure!Tonight I will not eat the leftovers that power accidentally leaves behind.我要种下进入她们梦乡的种子。 可是后来我看见了伊戈尔。 不对，那时我还不知道他叫什么名字。我只是躺在发热的沙子上，四处张望，注意到一个与我年龄相仿的小伙子。他和自己的那群孩子——九至十一岁的小男孩们在水中嬉戏，把他们扔到水里，用肩膀做他们的跳台——总之，尽情地开心。他一点也没晒黑，但不知为什么这很适合他——在一群黝黑的孩子们的身体的包围中，小伙子就像……就像宽容地从一堆黑皮肤的印度教教徒身旁庄严出游的国王的白色大象。 漂亮的小伙。我小腹掠过一丝甜甜的酸痛。我们毕竟离人类并不远。我仿佛明白在他者和人类之间——有一道巨大的鸿沟，这小伙子不配我，我们之间不会有任何长久的关系，但不管怎么说…… 我喜欢这样的：结实的身材，淡褐色头发，聪明的脸。There is no way. 再说，有必要去采取什么办法吗？ 反正我准备找个伴共度夏天…… “奥莲奇卡，你知不知道这个辅导员叫什么名字？”我问想接近我的姑娘。奥莲奇卡显然对我充满好感，因为我多少有那么一点把她从这一群孩子中突出出来，现在她寸步不离地跟着我——努力想巩固这一成绩。他们，人们，真可爱，特别是孩子。他们所有的人都渴望得到关怀和关注。 奥莲奇卡仔细瞧了瞧，摇摇头： “这是第四中队的，只不过他们原来是另一个辅导员。” 小姑娘的眼里显出不安——仿佛她害怕她的不知所措会令我对她感到失望。也许，其实是害怕…… “想知道吗？我去问。”奥莲奇卡问我，“我认识那里的小男孩……” “好啊！”我点点头。 小姑娘跳起来，向海水跑去，弄得沙子四溅。我掉过头偷笑。 你瞧。我的第一个提供情报者就已经出现了。一个被整怕了的，贪婪地捕捉我眼神的瘦小姑娘。 “他叫伊戈尔。”坐在旁边的娜塔莎，就是那个夜里梦到小男孩的姑娘出人意料地说。她晒起太阳来也不像其他孩子那样，她坐在那儿伸直双腿，往后仰着头，双手撑在沙子上。可能是在某个时尚杂志或电影中学来的。也许，她很清楚，这种姿势会使她小小的乳房在泳装下开始明显突起。会有出息的…… “谢谢，娜塔莎，”我表示感谢，“我觉得我和他认识。” 小女孩斜视了我一下，笑了。想入非非地说： “他很漂亮……” 看看现在的年轻人都什么样啊！ “就是大了些，是吗？”我试着激怒她。 “不，还行。”她表示。 接着她说了句让我彻底感到惊讶的话。 “他很可靠，我想。” “你为什么这么想？” 娜塔娜想了几秒钟，懒洋洋地说。 “不知道。只是觉得而己。妈妈常跟我说男人身上最重要的东西就是要靠得住。他不一定要漂亮，更不一定要聪明。” “这要看你的目的是什么……”我不想输给一个十一岁的聪明的小女孩。 “是的，”娜塔莎轻松地表示同意，“也许要漂亮。但是我可不是指一切愚蠢的事。” 多可爱的小机灵啊！我想了想，假如这个孩子偶然变成了他者——我一定收她做徒弟。当然机会不多，可是万一有呢？ 然而接下来的一瞬间娜塔莎把她早熟的智慧一股脑儿抛到脑后，跳起身在岸上狂奔着追逐那个朝她身上溅水的男孩。有意思，靠得住的概念中包不包括每天在沙滩上的冲凉呢？ 我又瞅了那小伙子一眼。他已经停止了在水中的嬉戏，现在正把自己的被看护人往岸上赶。 身材多么完美啊！头骨的形状也非常正。也许，这有点可笑，除了好的身材，我还看重男人身上的两样东西——漂亮的头型和精心修护的脚趾。也许这是某种盲目崇拜吧？ 脚趾我当然看不清楚，但是其他的一切暂时还是让我喜欢的。 我的小间谍带着情报回来了。她浑身湿漉漉的，激动万分，兴高采烈地咚的一声坐到我旁边的沙子上，神经质地将一绺卷发缠在手指上悄悄地说： “他叫伊戈尔·德米特里耶维奇。他是个很快活的人，昨天才来的。他边弹吉他边唱歌，还讲一些有趣的故事。四中队的辅导员走了，他的妻子生了个儿子，他原以为一个月以后才会生，可是现在就生了！” “你瞧瞧，多走运。”我说，一边琢磨着自己的心事。我考虑到现在我没有任何能力，所以没法让小伙子爱上我，那这样的巧合太合适了。他刚刚到这里，还没有来得及牵扯上任何罗曼史……他总不会整整这一轮夏令营都从事实用教育学吧？他自己会上钩的…… 奥莲奇卡兴奋地窃笑了一下，十分小声地补充了一句： “他还是单身呢。” 你说拿她们有什么办法？ “谢啦，奥莲奇卡，”我嫣然一笑，“去游泳吧？” "OK……" 我抓住高兴地尖叫起来的小姑娘，向海水跑去。可以理解，傍晚时女孩子们乐意探讨的话题将是这位辅导员以及我对他的态度。 随它去好了。 这一两天我会让她们忘记我认为需要忘记的一切的。 一天飞快地过去了，仿佛一部快进的电影。 我设法恰逢“阿尔台克”传统上放映儿童电影周的第六季来到此地，因此这种类比就更恰如其分。两天后迎来了隆重的开幕式，现在在一些夏令营也有导演和演员的演出。我丝毫没有要去看什么新老儿童片的愿望，但能在监督小姑娘们的工作中提供一个小小的歇息机会。而且确实需要歇一会儿了——我觉得自己就像在莫斯科大街小巷里紧张地值勤过后一样筋疲力尽。 吃完午后小吃：苹果汁和有着一个浪漫名字“蓝色调”的小面包，我忍不住给扎武隆打电话。他那台在世界任何一个地方都能接通的卫星工作电话没有应答，这只可能表明一点——头儿不在我们这个世界上，而是在黑暗中的某个地方。 有什么办法呢，他事情太多了。 而且有时是一些不太令人愉快的事。在完全失去了与人类世界相似性的黑暗的底层空间巡游可不是一种轻松的考验。我本人从未去过那里，这需要真正神奇的力量。只是有一次，在我那次非法吸取人类能量的愚蠢行为之后…… 关于那些事件我几乎什么也记不得了。扎武隆使我失去了知觉，惩罚我的过失，同时让我远离黑暗的深层空间。但是……有时我能想起点什么。似乎在灰蒙蒙的失忆中有短暂的一瞬间的清醒意识…… 那像是梦或者谵妄。或许那就是谵妄？以恶魔面孔出现的扎武隆将我扛在肩上奔跑。他那用鳞片作为保护的手抓住我的双腿，而我的头在地上，在起伏变化的快乐的沙子上摇晃。我向上看，看见闪光的天空，天空满是耀眼的光芒，还有布满天空的巨大的黑色星星。 在我与天空之间——有两扇高耸的拱门。昏暗的灰色，像是用烟雾塑造成的两道弧形……里面没有任何可怕的东西，但却莫名其妙地笼罩着恐惧感。 还有沙沙声——来自四面八方的干涩而令人难受的沙沙声，如相互厮打着的沙粒颤抖着，或像昆虫般的云朵在视线外来回飘荡…… 也许，这终归只是谵妄。 在我们已重归于好的现在，或许我可以冒险去问问扎武隆黄昏界的深层空间有什么？ 白天忙碌着，迫不及待地奔向夜晚。我让吵嘴的奥莉加和柳德米拉重归于好，我们又来到海滩，阿丽娅第一次自己独自游了几米远。她瞪大眼，小手掌在水面上打鼓儿似的拍得啪啪直响，溅起团团水花，但她只游了几米远…… 苦役般的生活，而不是休假！这一切都是给光明使者的，他们会很乐意去从事教育工作。只有夜晚的临近给我些许安慰。太阳西斜，连不知疲倦的孩子们都开始疲倦了。 晚餐后——晚餐有鱼，圆薄饼，土豆——这些东西他们都往哪儿塞啊，我已经回到中队了。在第二次晚餐后（让人觉得凑到这儿来的全都是群营养不良的人）至就寝时间到来之前还要让小姑娘们玩上两个小时。 大概我的脸色让人感觉到了这一点。 第七中队的辅导员加琳娜朝我走过来。我白天已经与她认识了，与其说是出于现实的需要，不如说是为了不露馅儿。一位很普通的人类的姑娘，光明使者道德驯化的现成产品——善良，安静，通情达理。她比我的麻烦多一些。她的中队里是一群十二三岁的小姑娘，而这个年龄往往是情窦初开的时候，歇斯底里，泪湿枕头。但是加琳娜满腔热情地希望帮我。 “累了吧？”她压低嗓门问，微笑着看了看我的姑娘们。 我只是点点头。 “第一次总是这样，”加琳娜表示同意，“我去年做完了一个月便决定再也不涉足此地一步。可是后来我明白，我已经不能没有'阿尔台克'了。” “像毒品一样上瘾？”我偷偷地提示她。 “是的，”加琳娜甚至没发现我在讽刺，“这里的一切都是五彩斑斓的，你明白吗？而且一切色彩都是纯净而鲜艳的。你还没感觉到吗？” 我勉强笑了笑。 加琳娜抓住我的手，神秘地扫视了姑娘们一眼，悄悄地说： “你知道吗？现在第四中队马上要搞篝火晚会了。他们叫我们去参加，我来叫你们吧？你可以歇上两小时，你的小姑娘们没你也会玩得开心的。” “这方便吗？”我连忙问道，没有丝毫要拒绝的意思。不仅仅是因为可以从工作中解脱一两个小时，更是因为那个招人喜欢的辅导员伊戈尔。 “当然方便咯！”加琳娜惊奇地看了我一眼，“伊戈尔每年都来'阿尔台克'，他是我们最好的辅导员之一。你也该认识认识他。不错的小伙子，对吗？” 她的声音变得暖暖的。这不奇怪。不是只有我才喜欢强壮的肌肉和聪明脸蛋的结合。 “我们一定去，”我表示同意，“现在就去。”

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Notes: 中的男主人公。