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Vanechka / SurprizingFacts

Hello. This is another fantasy on the topic of our not very bright future.

If two years ago the actual topic was the blocking of torrent trackers, now the problem was art. 148 of the Criminal Code.

This test is of an artistic nature and does not aim to offend anyone's feelings.

Dedicated to common sense.


Vanechka woke up early. While others were in a sweet captivity of slumber, the boy managed to pray not only for his own, but also for the health of the patriarch, his assistants and in general all the ministers of the church, the president, the government and the mother. It is in this order. After, with a sense of accomplishment, the boy turned on his small, in the case of gray, cheap plastic, an unnamed tablet and plunged into watching cartoons along the only accessible to him children's channel.

On the screen a long familiar character – a monk Theophanes, an old man with a long beard, a staff and a huge gold cross on his chest, taught hooligans, helped animals and praised obedient children for good deeds. In this series Feofan explained how important it is when visiting the church to tell priests about the bad books that parents can hide in their homes. For example, the cartoon hero claimed that not only for reading, but simply for storing the labors in physics, biology or, God forbid, philosophy, the whole family would burn in Gehenna of Fire, which was backed by flames behind the monk's back. Vanya loved this cartoon, for his viewing time flew imperceptibly. He heard that other children have access to other channels, but he did not believe in it, and the church officials were strictly forbidden to show his tablet to someone from peers. Vanya was an obedient boy and believed the clergy.

 – Vania! – Mother called the boy from the common kitchen.

There, in a small room four by four meters, under her feet, a dozen more tomboys from three to seven years old turned. They were all dirty, smelly, they were yelling, and they were always trying to overturn one of the pots from the stove.

– Vanyusha! – repeated her mother's cry, in an incredible and contrary to the laws of physics movement, holding a pot of boiling water in her hands – get up! We are soon going to church!

While his mother was calling him, the boy already managed to pull simple blue-colored trousers of coarse wool, a shirt and a jacket that was two sizes larger than necessary. But he was lucky. The mother was able to digest her last work cards with enviable success, and more recently the boy had not only this rough and big jacket, but also new shoes.

The street was crowded. Entire families hastened to the Sunday service, which was warned by the church workers through the loudspeakers, slowly driving through the narrow streets of the working area to the black-painted "Boars" with golden crosses on the sides. Vanya watched as their neighbors, Aunt Agatha and Uncle Nikolai, led by their four children, with whom Vanya, however, was not particularly friendly. It was difficult for him to find friends at all.

He had already heard his neighbors, as if he were not near him, especially not embarrassed by the expressions, his mother was discussing – "another scoundrel": her husband left, more He does not want to give birth, he reluctantly goes to church. The boy did not fully understand the meaning of the word "prokhvostka", but he suspected that his mother would not like this word very much, so he reasonably kept quiet and did not ask unnecessary questions: his mother did not skimp on any slap in the face, like any adult he met during his short life.

Those families that were richer – where adults worked in the police, church or other civil service – went to the bus stop, the rest in disorganized rows moved along the dusty sidewalks towards the local parish, whose golden domes towered above the thirty-storeyed "Pillars-humblery" of residential buildings. From anywhere in the city, a view of at least one church was opened; They, shining in gold, like giant beacons for believers, rose above other structures and served as a silent reminder to all the inhabitants about who should be thanked for their life and health.

Vanya was already seriously thinking about the forthcoming long road, when suddenly somewhere up ahead there were screams:

– Blasphemer! Blasphemer! Keep the heretic!

Five minutes later, when the boy and his mother came closer, Vanechka's eyes became familiar to every resident of Moscow: devoutly believing and honoring the laws of the church and state, they broke the hands of a frail old man in a worn checkered jacket

] – I saw exactly how he went with books last night! Accurately seen! – Grumbling peasant, that, however, did not prevent him to twist the old man's hands behind his back.

– Bozhechki, but what is going on, everyone will not calm down, nehristi, – the shapeless woman standing at the age of Vanya was standing beside Vanya. She could equally well be like thirty, and all sixty years, but heavy physical labor, constant washing of the children's breakdown and cooking sucked out the last juices, leaving only the shapeless vague envelope of a sensible parishioner.

– Where are the books ?! Where are the books, old devil ?! – In the meantime, the denunciator continued to croak. "We'll find them!" Do you hear? We will find and you will answer!

Someone stopped to observe how the old man's conviction would end, others – who valued their time, circumvented the place of detention by the side, but not too quickly: God forbid, anyone would think they were escaping the place of God-pleasing deed.

Almost immediately after the next replica of the vigilant parishioner from around the corner appeared the church "Vepr" and, burning rubber, rushed straight to them.

– Look, father! He detained a dangerous heretic! – Immediately zuhorochorilsy peasant at the sight of leaving the hatch an immense priest in a flak jacket and with a cross on his chest. "I swear to you, Father, yesterday I saw this old man with old books in his hands!"

Pop looked at the peasant with a salty look, as if he was dozing in the back of the car all this time, honored the crowd with a glance, and only then looked at the intruder.

– A … – The priest stretched, looking at the old man in a worn jacket. "What, Pachin, are you again?"

The old man did not answer anything and only glanced briefly, from under his brows, looking at the priest.

– Release him, – said the priest, addressing already to the peasant, – it's a blessed local, Sasha Pachin. The Lord has taken his mind from his youth, now, now he walks, he carries his books. Yes, Sashka?

The old man again refrained from answering, as if he had not heard the priest. But if Vanechka understood what was in people – and understood, in his own opinion, he is quite a lot – this grandfather was far from blessed.

Pop was already starting to turn back to the car, but then his gaze caught hold of something and he threw his hand forward, like an old pickpocket, to the old man in his bosom – whence he pulled out a small shabby little book from a secret pocket.

– Oh, you Judas son … – Started, but the priest did not finish, slapping the old man in the face, from which he fell to the dusty pavement. – Medical reference book ?! Again?! The Russian man does not need this heresy, his prayer heals!

Pop crossed himself, followed by the whole crowd around him. Muzhichok that detained the blessed man, was a little hesitant, from which he was baptized with a double zeal – Vanechka counted at least four or even five times.

– According to the laws of God and the Russian Federation, I confiscate this wicked book! In the name of the church and our Lord Jesus! The priest nearly broke into a scream. – And you, Sasha, beware! Vladyka forgives everything, but not the church!

The crowd slowly began to wander – there was nothing to look at anymore. The pop still stood by the car, watching that no one decided to commit lynching over Pachin – the eyes of the people were still burning – and the blessed old man, having got heavily to his feet and spitting blood, wandered off, away from the main street and the eyes of his compatriots.

Vanechka looked thoughtfully at the hunched figure after him. He wanted to ask his mother, who all this time silently stood nearby, a lot of questions, but he understood that now is not the place and not the time. And it is unlikely that this "time" will ever come.

Next was prayer, kissing the crucifix in the hands of a local priest and compulsory voluntary donations for the construction of a new church. This Sunday day would not be different from anything from any other Sunday, if not for the scene with the blessed old man.

Even in the evening, before going to sleep, praying for the health of the patriarch, his assistants and in general all the ministers of the church, the president, the government and the mother, Vanechka almost turned Sashka Pachin into his address to the Lord and stopped. Not because he is a heretic. The boy decided that the old man himself would not be happy that he was being prayed for. It was evident from the doomed glance of the underfoot, which Vanya noticed, there, on the sidewalk. But not evil. The old man seemed to regret them all: the priest, the peasant, that twisted his hands, and even the spectators, including him – Vanya.

The boy decided that during the next walk he would find the blessed one and ask why he so pitied them all.

And he will also ask what the "medical directory" is.

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