Calls to the authorities are a nuisance in itself! What if the call is unexpected? And urgent? Moreover, the authorities are not near and dear, but immediate, and not even at one level, but much higher?
All these thoughts raced through the head of GB captain Stepan Kireevich Kobzev as he climbed the steps of the “tallest” house in the capital. As the wits sent here joked: “From the Kremlin windows good view to Red Square, and from Lubyanka to Vorkuta.”
Kobzev did not expect to be here again. At least that soon. Only three years have passed since he descended these very steps as the curator of the hee-hee project at the ha-ha site in pe-ya go-go. In a word - in deep ass. There were always enough places in Rus' where one could drive someone who had committed a crime. Thank you for the fact that only in exile and even the previous title was retained. Not the same grip these days. In former times, the echo of a volley died away before the ink on the verdict had time to dry.
And here it is - on you!
Kobzev in Once again I carefully went over in my mind all the possible reasons for the call. There shouldn’t be any special sins against him - in a quiet outback, which, frankly speaking, was a numbered town, it was difficult to sin especially, even if you had the corresponding desire. The major believed even less in the machinations of hostile intelligence services that could suddenly be revealed than, for example, in aliens and astral spirits - for his neighbors in the town were intensely involved in the latter and seemed to have even achieved some results. At least, more significant in the eyes of management than the successes of his wards.
Even if some James Bond managed to penetrate the town, get acquainted with at least part of the developments ongoing there and report them to his bosses - and, in the captain’s opinion, not every mentally normal intelligence officer would dare to do this - the alarmed authorities, most likely, he would hasten to recall his agent from the country, the stay in which had such a bad effect on his mental health.
But what then? What?! What?!
This thought continued to beat furiously in the captain’s temples the entire time he walked along the corridor, stopped in front of the treasured door, fussily straightened his tie, took a deep breath and, as if into an ice hole, walked towards the stream of sunlight gushing out of the door.
- Will you allow me?
- Come in, Comrade Kobzev.
KGB Lieutenant General Podgornykh has hardly changed. The same light gray jacket that he brought from Geneva in 1969 - “or maybe it’s the wrong one, it looks very good,” the captain thought, “who knows, maybe he brought a dozen of these suits”: two cigarettes in the ashtray on the right elbows - there were always either two or three, and no one managed to detect the moment when there was only one cigarette in the ashtray, as well as to see the process of the general’s smoking. Evil tongues gossiped that Podgornykh simply left one cigarette in the ashtray when leaving, and hid the ashtray in a safe, away from the cleaners.
And still the same heavy, cold, soul-piercing gaze.
But the captain did not expect to see the second person present in the office.
Of course, there were no official reasons why Major General of the General Staff of the GRU Bogdanovich could not end up in the office of a high-ranking KGB officer. In the end, we are doing the same thing, a common one. But each one a little differently. And it’s all about this very “little bit”.
And in fact, the captain is not supposed to know who exactly this lean major general with early gray hair at the temples is. It was pure coincidence that it was he who was then tasked once again to check the personal files of employees of a foreign embassy. Check carefully.
At that time Bogdanovich was still only a colonel.
– Comrade Bogdanovich and I studied the materials presented by your students. And, we have to admit, they considered themselves not entirely competent in this area.
Well, of course, Kobzev thought, even the fat herds of experts won’t help here, because the theory on which the project was, in fact, based, casually brought down a couple of others that were now considered fundamental. And what kind of scientist would chop the branch on which he sits? Only a crazy person like Drobov.
“We decided not to disturb the fellow scientists themselves,” Podgornykh continued. “That’s why I had to call you, Comrade Captain.” You, as it happens, are the only one who can personally explain to us the essence of the developments being carried out at the institute. Well, and at the same time answer a number of questions specific to ours.
“I just ask you to forgive me in advance, Comrade General, for any inaccuracies,” said Kobzev. – Still, I am not a physicist and I delve into the details of the project to the extent required for the activities I carry out.
“That’s good,” Podgornykh smiled slightly. – Gleb Aleksandrovich and I are not certified nuclear scientists either. Especially in such a specific area.
Yes, Kobzev thought, you probably won’t find anything more specific during the day with fire.
“The initial impetus for starting work,” the KGB officer rattled off by rote, “was Professor Drobov’s assumption that our universe has a twelve-dimensional structure.” In this case, the n-dimensional continuum can be subjected to transformations...
“Stop,” Bogdanovich said. - I ask you to forgive me, but, Comrade Kobzev, is it possible to explain it to me, a cast-iron army head, even more clearly. Without these... transforming continuums.
Kobzev sighed.
“Human senses,” he began, “are designed to record four dimensions. In the standard coordinate system they are usually denoted x, y, z...
“Roughly speaking, length, width and height,” Bogdanovich nodded. - And the fourth?
“Time,” Kobzev answered. – Coordinate Te. We know how to record time - with the help of a clock, and even move in it, however, at a constant speed and only in one direction. In fact, according to the professor’s calculations... - Kobzev stopped short, swallowed the saliva that had flowed at once and continued: - So, Drobov’s theory boils down to the fact that there are also other... coordinate axes. And we can learn to identify them and even move along them.
Kobzev hesitated, trying in vain to remember some other saying of the professor that was at least somewhat suitable for this situation. I remembered little. Being in a normal state, Professor Drobov expressed himself exclusively in scientific abstruseness, and such that not only Kobzev, but also the scientific contingent - at least candidates, and most of them full doctors - began to roll balls behind the rollers. Being drunk - and this did not happen so rarely, fortunately, access to the purest medical alcohol was practically unlimited (among the project employees the expression “inter-dimensional tube” had already been coined, used to observe, respectively, inter-dimensional processes. This miracle device contained exactly zero point four liters of alcohol, which during the experiment safely evaporated in the mysterious interdimensional void) ... and so, being drunk, the professor began to yell Russian-Jewish-Ukrainian songs at the entire building. Where he picked them up was known only to him and God, but not to Kobzev. Having gone through the entire Drobov family tree three times, he did not find the slightest trace of not only the unfortunate nationality, but even the banal Tatars. The professor was so Russian that it seemed suspicious.
Silver and lead
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Title: Silver and Lead
About the book Andrey Ulanov, Vladimir Serebryakov “Silver and Lead”
From the “first department” of a security facility to a magical land inhabited by mythological creatures, it’s just one step. And don’t think that this is a step into a mental hospital - this is a Step into a parallel world. This is exactly what the newly minted KGB major Stepan Kobzev, who is deservedly included in the limited contingent, will have to do Soviet troops. It is he who will have to make sure that it is more difficult to resist the magical abilities of the aborigines of an alien world than the military power of the army of a potential enemy, who is also eager to impose freedom and democracy in a parallel space.
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It is clear why the authors decided to move the action to the recent past. “The Olympics haven’t even started yet,” Vyazemsky recalled. “And, judging by how we are stuck here, it will end before they take us out of here” - that means the summer of 80. It was necessary to once again contrast East and West, although we are now in worse opposition to the United States than in the days cold war. Because - on the sly and secretly. Like in a communal kitchen, we spit in their porridge, and then they pee in our kettle. So the transfer in time was apparently done “for greater amusement” (after all, one cannot suspect the authors of a heightened “sense of self-preservation” and admiration for the current government). And so: “dear comrades Druids...” and other quirks of “Sofia Vlasyevna.” But here again is this tired division: we have intelligence officers, they have spies, we are internationalists, they are interventionists. And if anything happens, the political officials and KGB officers are to blame. And only they can get in touch with the bandits. Rough. Not only them. But among the Americans, everyone is a goat, and among us, some are goats. What is the norm for us is a rare exception for them. “For the Bad Boy: a barrel of jam, a basket of cookies, and twenty-four cans of condensed milk a day!” And - old jokes: “The glory of the CPSU is not a Jew,” “whoever needed was killed,” “you are an officer , or where?
Conclusion. Progressivism is unnecessary, harmful and dangerous. They don’t go to someone else’s monastery with their own rules. Only the intelligent are free. Paris is worth a mass. With a good wife, a man can become a man. A Jew is always a Jew.
And yet there was a mistake. Could not. COULD NOT. A soldier of the Soviet Army of the 1980 model, if he did not come down from the mountains for salt and did not fall out of the chum, forget the name of Zoya Kosmodemyanskaya. Only together with all the memory and head.
The book as a whole resembles a puzzle, composed entirely of common stereotypes, the plot and characters - without any claims to originality. But it is easy to read and leaves a purely positive impression. Not the worst way to kill a few hours.
The book makes you look at the fantasy world differently. To think that there could be a world where technology has not developed and its development is in principle impossible. The collision of the non-technological fantasy world with our world is beautifully described. The Americans, as always waving their fists and considering themselves the coolest of all (the book correctly describes the nature of American relations towards other nations), and “our” Soviet soldiers... who were sent to build socialism.
And few people think that the Silver Empire has existed with such a “feudal system” for more than one thousand years.
Andrey Ulanov
Vladimir Serebryakov
Silver and lead
Calls to the authorities are a nuisance in itself! What if the call is unexpected? And urgent? Moreover, the bosses are not near and dear - immediate - and not even just one step up, but much higher?
All these thoughts raced through the head of GB captain Stepan Kireevich Kobzev as he climbed the steps of the “tallest” house in the capital. As the wits sent here joked: “From the Kremlin windows there is a good view of Red Square, and from the Lubyanka windows there is a good view of Vorkuta.”
Kobzev did not expect to be here again. At least that soon. Only three years have passed since he descended these very steps as the curator of the hee-hee project at the ha-ha site in pe-ya go-go. In a word - in deep ass. There were always enough places in Rus' where one could drive someone who had committed a crime. Thank you for the fact that only in exile and even the previous title was retained. Not the same grip these days. In former times, the echo of a volley died away before the ink on the verdict had time to dry.
And here it is - on you!
Kobzev once again carefully went over in his mind all the possible reasons for the call. There shouldn’t be any special sins against him - in a quiet outback, which, frankly speaking, was a numbered town, it was difficult to sin especially, even if you had the corresponding desire. The major believed even less in the machinations of hostile intelligence services that could suddenly be revealed than, for example, in aliens and astral spirits - for his neighbors in the town were intensely involved in the latter and seemed to have even achieved some results. At least, more significant in the eyes of management than the successes of his wards.
Even if some James Bond managed to penetrate the town, get acquainted with at least part of the developments ongoing there and report them to his bosses - and, in the captain’s opinion, not every mentally normal intelligence officer would dare to do this - the alarmed authorities, most likely, he would hasten to recall his agent from the country, the stay in which had such a bad effect on his mental health.
But what then? What?! What?!
This thought continued to beat furiously in the captain’s temples the entire time he walked along the corridor, stopped in front of the treasured door, fussily straightened his tie, took a deep breath and, as if into an ice hole, walked towards the stream of sunlight gushing out of the door.
- Will you allow me?
- Come in, Comrade Kobzev.
KGB Lieutenant General Podgornykh has hardly changed. Still the same light gray jacket that he brought from Geneva in 1969 - “or maybe not that one, it looks very good,” the captain thought, “who knows, maybe he brought a dozen of these suits”: two cigarettes in the ashtray on the right elbows - there were always either two or three, and no one managed to detect the moment when there was only one cigarette in the ashtray, as well as to see the process of the general’s smoking. Evil tongues gossiped that Podgornykh simply left one cigarette in the ashtray when leaving, and hid the ashtray in a safe, away from the cleaners.
And still the same heavy, cold, soul-piercing gaze.
But the captain did not expect to see the second person present in the office.
Of course, there were no official reasons why Major General of the General Staff of the GRU Bogdanovich could not end up in the office of a high-ranking KGB officer. In the end, we are doing the same thing, a common one. But each one a little differently. And the whole point is in this very “little”.
And in fact, the captain is not supposed to know who exactly this lean major general with early gray hair at the temples is. It was pure coincidence that it was he who was then tasked once again to check the personal files of employees of a foreign embassy. Check carefully.
At that time Bogdanovich was still only a colonel.
– Comrade Bogdanovich and I studied the materials presented by your students. And, we have to admit, they considered themselves not entirely competent in this area.
Well, of course, Kobzev thought, even the fat herds of experts won’t help here, because the theory on which the project was, in fact, based, casually brought down a couple of others that were now considered fundamental. And what kind of scientist would chop the branch on which he sits? Only a crazy person like Drobov.
“We decided not to disturb the fellow scientists themselves,” Podgornykh continued. “That’s why I had to call you, Comrade Captain.” You, as it happens, are the only one who can personally explain to us the essence of the developments being carried out at the institute. Well, and at the same time answer a number of questions specific to ours.
“I just ask you to forgive me in advance, Comrade General, for any inaccuracies,” said Kobzev. – Still, I am not a physicist and I delve into the details of the project to the extent required for the activities I carry out.
“That’s good,” Podgornykh smiled slightly. – Gleb Aleksandrovich and I are not certified nuclear scientists either. Especially in such a specific area.
Yes, Kobzev thought, you probably won’t find anything more specific during the day with fire.
“The initial impetus for starting work,” the KGB officer rattled off by rote, “was Professor Drobov’s assumption that our universe has a twelve-dimensional structure.” In this case, the n-dimensional continuum can be subjected to transformations...
“Stop,” Bogdanovich said. - I ask you to forgive me, but, Comrade Kobzev, is it possible to explain it to me, a cast-iron army head, even more clearly. Without these... transforming continuums.
Kobzev sighed.
“Human senses,” he began, “are designed to record four dimensions. In the standard coordinate system they are usually denoted x, y, z...
“Roughly speaking, length, width and height,” Bogdanovich nodded. - And the fourth?
“Time,” Kobzev answered. – Coordinate Te. We know how to record time - with the help of a clock, and even move in it, however, at a constant speed and only in one direction. In fact, according to the professor’s calculations... - Kobzev stopped short, swallowed the saliva that had flowed at once and continued: - So, Drobov’s theory boils down to the fact that there are also other... coordinate axes. And we can learn to identify them and even move along them.
Kobzev hesitated, trying in vain to remember some other saying of the professor that was at least somewhat suitable for this situation. I remembered little. Being in a normal state, Professor Drobov expressed himself exclusively in scientific abstruseness, and such that not only Kobzev, but also the scientific contingent - at least candidates, and most of them full doctors - began to roll balls behind the rollers. Being drunk - and this did not happen so rarely, fortunately, access to the purest medical alcohol was practically unlimited (among the project employees the expression “inter-dimensional tube” had already been coined, used to observe, respectively, inter-dimensional processes. This miracle device contained exactly zero point four liters of alcohol, which during the experiment safely evaporated in the mysterious interdimensional void) ... and so, being drunk, the professor began to yell Russian-Jewish-Ukrainian songs at the entire building. Where he picked them up was known only to him and God, but not to Kobzev. Having gone through the entire Drobov family tree three times, he did not find the slightest trace of not only the unfortunate nationality, but even the banal Tatars. The professor was so Russian that it seemed suspicious.
, Andrey Ulanov
Reviews about the book:
Advantages: Interesting beginning Disadvantages: The book feels light at first, but turns out to be dull. Many deaths. Overly political - confrontation between the USSR and the USA. Yes, I agree, there were a lot of excesses on both sides. This bothered me a little. There are too many heroes, confused about the names and who is who. The earthlings seemed like some kind of brats who couldn’t do anything without a firearm. The Americans may be so, but ours... I’m not sure. Comment: In general, not for everybody. I can’t say that the book is bad, but it didn’t find a key reader in me.
Ermolin Dmitry Sergeevich 0
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