Полёт фантазии, фантазии в полёте - [66]

«Where are we going?» — thought Julia, as they passed West Hill park and took the turn to the left. Jim stopped his car in front of a bleak grey house with dirty windows. He opened the door with his won key and went up the shaky stairs.

A big dirty room looked deserted-very little furniture: an old table with a type-writer on it, a Victorian wooden chair with a broken head, an old-fashioned fridge in the corner and a blotchy carpet of uncertain dirty colour on the floor.

«What is he going to do in this awful room?» — wondered Julia.

Jim looked off his jacket and sat at the table. — «Settled! Work, work and work. I won’t get out till I finish at least the first chapter. Nobody will interfere with my writing here». Julia looked at the sheet of paper stuck into the type-writer and read: «On a bright October morning when the air is transparent and the leaves and the leaves are golden I meet Julia…»

— «Oh, how nice of you to remember me», — thought Julia, — «What will be the continuation be, I wonder?»»

For half an hour Jim sat at the type-writer staring at the white sheet of paper. Random thoughts came and went like waves, leaving nothing on the blank paper but the acute feeling of sadness in his deserted soul. Julia tried hard to follow his disorderly thoughts.

— «Julia… she was the only one who had really understood me… How happy we were on that bright October morning: the leaves were golden, the air was transparent, we were young. Remember what she said on my wedding day: it’s not me you’ve betrayed, it’s your talent. My talent! What have I done with my talent? Just wasted, writing all that silly disposable stuff and making money. Oh, in that I’ve succeeded, I’ve made a lot of money to feed that monster Helen — never enough, never satisfied. Waste, sheer waste… She even refused to give birth to my son. And Julia has two wonderful children, they could have been our children. Julia is absolutely right: I’ve betrayed my talent I’ve wasted myself, I’ll never be able to right anything really worthy… I’ve lost the ability to concentrate…»

— «Poor Jim», — sighed Julia, — «how can I help him? It is impossible without breaking the rule of non-interference in other people’s thoughts. How can I help him?»

— «Help, help». — echoed in Jim’s brain. «Just a little drop of whiskey would help me to concentrate, just a tiny drop». Jim went up to the fridge and opened it. (Oh, there are three bottles of whiskey, — reflected Julia, — and there are five empty bottles on the floor! My God, he has been drinking heavily, so much alcohol!)

By five o’clock Jim was lying flat on the dirty carpet and snoring like a wounded bear. There were no thoughts whatsoever in his deserted soul. The smell of whiskey was so strong that Julia couldn’t stand it any longer: she clicked her fingers, paused for a moment in the air looking at the lumplike lifeless body of the man, who once had been dear lover… Farewell, Jim!

The next morning Julia found herself sitting in a comfortable chair in Mr. Toffiles’ office. The porcelain beauty was holding a glass of water and a pill.

— «Take this, Mrs. Evans, and you’ll feel much better».

Julia took the pill and stretched her limbs. «How nice to have your own body», — she thought to herself, feeling the life coming back into her hands and legs, she moved them, breathing gave her a new physical pleasure.

«How nice to be a body sitting on a chair», — she interpreted a well-known children’s song in her own way.

— «May I have your traveller’s card, Mrs. Evans?» — the Chinese-looking secretary interrupted her pleasant thoughts.

— «What for?» — Julia looked worried as she produced the white plastic card with three red spots.

— «It’s just a formality, I must register that you’ve made the first trip. Will you wait a minute, please?» — And she disappeared behind the door of Mr. Toffiles’ room. «What a polite and nice girl! What a clean and cosy office!» — thought Julia as her eyes glided from the grey silk curtains to the lovely pink roses in the black vase on the white table, and from one bright tour-advertising poster on the wall to another.

«Oh, that dirty sheet of paper again, absolutely out of place among those colourful ads». — Julia went up to the wall and looked at the unfamiliar letters. She even put on her glasses, as if that would help her to understand the text. As she was studying it word by word, sentence by sentence she had a curious sensation that she got the message. Incredible as it may seem she grasped the meaning without understanding the words!

«Oh, how curious», — she thought, — «it proves Jim’s theory that a word is a three, and not a two-sided phenomenon: it has form, content and the message. The one who is able to perceive the message can grasp the content without knowing the form».

Julia was very pleased with herself as she discovered this new delightful secret. The blotchy paper offered a very special kind of travelling, a sort of survival school». It ran as follows:

Памятка для путешествующих по Системе

Устройство Системы таково, что жизнь на верхних ярусах гораздо комфортнее, чем на нижних. Чем выше ярус, тем комфортнее условия существования. Поэтому естественно, что между элементами Системы наблюдаются постоянные конфликты как в скрытой, так и в открытой формах, вызванные всеобщим стремлением попасть на более высокий ярус. Однако это движение не нарушает общего порядка в Системе, так как она закрыта по отношению ко внешней среде и обеспечивает достаточно комфортные условия существования для всех своих элементов.