Where I am from. Why I am here. Where I am going 2.0. Memoirs of an alien

Where I am from. Why I am here. Where I am going 2.0. Memoirs of an alien
Valentine Ruzanov

Years have passed since I for the last time saw you on Facebook. Now, you have a family of 3 kids and I’m so glad to see you happy and fulfilled. I’m sorry if I have ever bothered you with my messages, but I felt an affection for you so strong, that I couldn’t stay silent. And thank you for an example of what a real woman should be, whether she loves you or not, she always stays beautiful. As always, sincerely Yours, Walengting

Where I am from. Why I am here. Where I am going 2.0

Memoirs of an alien

Valentine Ruzanov

© Valentine Ruzanov, 2021

ISBN 978-5-0055-2506-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

To my muse, Brigita Nikitina

And the end thereof, neither the place thereof, nor their torment, no man knows;

(Doctrine and Covenants, 76:45)

Long day, scorching sun and yellow sand. I am very tired. Highly. It was a long journey and there is no way back. In an hour or an hour and a half, I will be in the colony, and everything will be fine. And with me, and with the colony, and with those for whom I went. Of course, everything will be fine, because we have not chosen the strongest for nothing – the one who can overcome everything and save those who remain at the base and are doomed only to wait. Wait is what I have to do now, and if the spring is safe, then I will quench my thirst.

The yellow eyes are looking for and finding nothing they close and open again.

The sand in my eyes makes me sharper, but if I don’t find a safe approach to the spring it can be dangerous. I need water. I can’t live without water. Maybe try to find her here nearby. In sand. And what, the veterans told that this happened. All I need is one molecule. Two hydrogen, one oxygen. Two hydrogen, one oxygen… Two hydrogen…

A red tongue protrudes from the mouth. The receptors slowly turn green and become covered with a film.

One oxygen… I only need one molecule, otherwise… Two hydrogen, one oxygen…

The black nose takes several convulsive breaths, the eyes widen.

Otherwise I won’t find a direction.

Bounce!

In agony, I hide my head in the sand so as not to feel pain.

1. CLOSED

– Where did you write this? – the boy slapped me on the shoulder and straightened his smile. I hesitated, but still turning around, noticing a good bar, I decided not to give myself away. – I AM?

After standing in thought, the guy took out a small book. Turning one page after another, he began to read aloud. – And who are you actually? “The devil,” the guy slammed the book shut with a bang. – And what are you looking for here?

The guy stared at the book again. – It says here…

You never know what is written there. But come to an unfamiliar city, put on a tie, and in this form go out into the street. This is too much! – Are you listening to me?

I’m listening. I’m listening. And I’m also looking for a way to the bar. – How do you understand that? – You offended. She did not come. The guy with the book. Amber eyes.

2.E = MV ^ 2/2

So, on the first day of the month, having collected everything I need, I hit the road. When I leave the house, I turn off my phone and stumble over a marble pebble. “Here are the chambers…”

Turning the pebble in my hands, I lightly throw it into my backpack. My intentions are the most serious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Taking a nickle out of my pocket, I throw it into an advertising stand. – Let me tell fortunes. I reach out my hand. I smile at the good mood. – Your train, gypsy! – Nyis.

3. ZOMBIES

After the crash, I get out of the car. I can not see anything. I bump my head against a board.

“District Z”.

Having caught an unpleasant smell, I survey the surroundings. Ashdvao plant. River. Having stuffed my backpack with gravel lying under my feet, I climb up to the second floor to rest. The sounds of the subway awaken me from half asleep.

– Next station is Park Kultury.

– … and rest, – I bawl, scattering precious gravel on the run.

4. DRIVER

– If no one has anything to say, then we can proceed to the conclusion of a marriage union. – Let them kiss first. – No, let them sign first. After observing the audience for a while, I leave the building and tell the coachman to take me to my betrothed. “I know this way,” the coachman comes to life. – Truth? – Atosh!

The horses soared. I also wanted to add: “drive faster”, but I was jerked with such force that I barely had time to grab my backpack. Flying past a shop with an unfamiliar sign, I barely managed to convey to the coachman that we should definitely stop here.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT HAPPENING

After an unexpected meeting, the aspiring writer embarks on a journey. Driven by memories, he leaves his home, trying to return the lost and gain the unknown.

TIME: accelerated

CULTURE: cybersteam

CLOTHES: apron and Pythagorean

MORAL: – (dash)

5. GOLD SPUR

Saturday, 6 pm. – Hello. We would like to meet with you. With you alone. Restaurant “Zorotaya Spora…” Sporrra… Golden Spur. Seven pi um. OK?

I leisurely check the music booklets and leave the music store. December snow on the face. Car wipers at traffic lights. There is a pedestrian crossing, half an hour of the road through the city center, and at the risk of my life I cross the road in front of “Spur”. There are two frozen figures on the bench at the entrance to the restaurant. – Halloween! – Hello! You’re a little early, however. – We love this kind of weather. You’re early too. – I just walked around. To the sounds of electro-jazz we go into a restaurant where I haven’t been for thirty years. Then it was just a cafe enticing young people with a demonstration of Japanese cartoons on the newly appeared video players. – What will you order? – I’m vegan. – For what reasons? – Ethical. The Americans, without showing any sign, also order vegetarian: borscht, fried potatoes, salad and water. – You lead a healthy lifestyle. Don’t you want to quit smoking? – I do not want. – Are you satisfied with everything? – Yes. – Have you ever loved? – Twice. The first married the other. All contacts from the second are lost. – Well. You’ll have to look better!

Another half hour of leisurely conversation and even the neighboring tables will learn about my youthful dream – to play jazz in New York, the lack of Russian-language manuals at that time and about my interest in English. My selfless story in fluent English is interrupted by an unexpected remark from one of the Americans: – Good evening!

Following the gaze of the foreigner, I turn around. I see the burning eyes of a twenty-year-old waitress who is imperceptibly standing behind my back, such eyes are in the audience when you perform virtuoso passages during improvisation. – Good evening! – the waitress, somewhat embarrassed and with a slight smile on her face, watches as I, with my mouth open, again turn my gaze to the Americans. – You have to look better! They nod.