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Classics fantasy – 7. Stories-2
Stories-2
A. Belyaev
© A. Belyaev, 2019
ISBN 978-5-0050-0935-7 (т. 7)
ISBN 978-5-0050-0936-4
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
CITY OF THE WINNER
(a sketch – a utopia)
Karl Fit opened eyes and smiled. Several days he woke up with a smile on lips – perhaps because he fell asleep with a thought of how life is good and interesting. And as yesterday as the day before yesterday, he attentively looked around himself. He threw the head back and saw a balcony door through which glasses slanting beams of the morning sun joined the room; threw a cursory glance on a small desk from a white oak and to a convenient working chair; turned the head, examined a wardrobe in a wall, as if wishing to make sure whether all on the place, and was finished by survey with a wash basin about a door. In total on the place. In total as yesterday, in this small, clean, white room. And pictures on walls and a bouquet on a table? No, and they on the place: two fine etudes oil paints – episodes of heroic fight of the proletariat for the power. The big round clock hanging over a door looked the dial, and shooters were extended almost vertically. Was one minute to six. At this time always Fit woke up. Here shooters were extended outright absolutely, and soft, but quite strong baritone which goodness knows where from spoke immediately was heard:
– Six hours, are time to rise!
This baritone belonged to Fit. Yesterday it gave such order, going to bed, to the mechanical servant – the record player roller connected by the special device with hours. But Fit gave daily such order to himself more for an entertainment. He did not need to be awoken – he woke up always accurately at the same time.
– I thank you – Fit answered, smiling to hours, and quickly rose from a bed. He quickly put a bed and moved it into a wall, pulled on legs of a shoe and left in a corridor. All doors left people in the same dressing gowns, men and women, and went: men to the right, women to the left.
– Gutnut a morgen! – called Phyto cheerful young voices.
– Kind morning! – he answered in Russian and waved a hand.
Fit opened a door in a wall of a long corridor, and discordant noise reached his ears: heavy rain, cheerful voices, snorting, a clap hands on a naked body, splashes in water. All these sounds merged in a peculiar “water” symphony. Yes, in this huge hall there was the real kingdom of water. Light getting through a glass ceiling lit the pool in which young people swam, with laughter overtaking each other. To the right and on the left offices of flourishes settled down, and in a wall against an entrance door the set of doors which conducted in separate bathrooms was seen. Fit bypassed the pool, making the way to the bathroom.
– Who is it? – the young man in the pool asked, showing to eyes on Fit.
– The German, the tourist – answered floating a row.
Fit entered a bathroom, quickly undressed and fell to already ready bathtub. Having left a bathtub and having dry pounded a body a shaggy towel, it passed to the neighboring hall.