The Sarmatian Protopope

Lunch, and the System of the World

2009-12-22T13:10:32Z

If you came up to me and asked, my dear fellow, given two months, and given this budget for this size team, how do you build a web portal, a complex social networking site, say? And I could tell you. It would not be the One True Answer, but it would be solid, and following my plan you would have a decent portal at the end of that time span. I know because I've done it before, and I've seen other teams do it, and heard the methods they followed.

If you asked me, never mind that this has been a holy grail of Computer Science since slightly before the field even existed, but aside from that, how would you build an Artificial Intelligence? Say you had a /way bigger/ team and budget, and were mad to boot, and maybe didn't want a HAL-level AI, but just a good quality chatbot, and you came up and asked me that. And I would know where to start. I would talk about the original Turing papers, about Lisp and Prolog, about the AI renaissance followed by the AI winter in the 80s and 90s, about statistical-based chatbots and the Loebner award, and about the awesome Cyc project (who's core is now open-sourced). I would know where to start. I could at least chart the beginnings of a course, and after hundreds of man-years and several epiphanies, well, it might not refuse to open the pod bay doors, but it would score high on the Loebner test, it would be a decent conversationalist.

And if, having solved those two problems, you turned to me and asked, now what about this world of ours? Why has history been such a bloody mess? Why is there strife and conflict and deep systemic problems? What is wrong with the current meta-civilization, and what is to be done about it? And I, being young and a geek, hell, merely by the virtue of having a pulse, would be contractually obligated to have an opinion on the subject. It might take me the next 10 years to formulate an answer. It might be wholly wrong or naive, or it could be brilliant, but in any case at least I would have some insight, I would know where to begin the search.

All right. I've got a much more dire problem for you.

If you came up to me and asked, given an American-sized budget, more than a hundred dollars a week, say, how would you feed a family of two, and draw up a meal plan that has enough calories, but not too much, is somewhat healthy (dying of scurvy is so gauche), and is sufficiently varied so that people would not get bored to tears of the dishes? And preferably, since both people are working full time, this meal plan would not be overly time consuming, as far as elaborate cooking? (And, I say two people because it's easily scaleable, if you have roomates or kids).

And I would shake my head sadly, because I would not know.

This is embarassing, frustrating almost to tears. Though I'm fairly good at systemic thinking, and generally grok complexity, I have still in my thirty years of life had not gotten a handle on the problem of food and meal plans. I feel, to a certain extent, like I fail at being a living thing, in the same sense that my cat Nola fails at being a housecat (she has refused to use the litterbox since kittenhood, and has to be let out into the yard for walks like a dog). Not literally, in the barest sense of the word, since obviously I have obtained enough calories thus far to survive. But I feel like I'm constantly treading water (again, not in the calories sense, but in the sense that my food systems are entirely haphazard).

The problem is not cooking skills. Of the hypothetical couple in question, yuki_onna is a masterful cook, and can throw feasts like whoa, and I myself cook a mean breakfast, and can whip up a decent dinner dish or two. The problem is knowing what to cook. The dreaded question of 'what shall we eat?' foils us time and again. Whoever is cooking is frustrated because, hey, they're ready to cook, why can't people get their act together and decide? And everybody else is just frustrated and vaguely unhappy, and also simply hungry. For myself, there are three mental activation barriers: being together enough to know what ingredients are in the house (this is fairly easy, I usually am), then knowing what dishes could be made out of those ingredients (this is harder), and finally navigating the question of who likes which dish and who's in the mood for what (harder still). I recognize the inherent difficulty of the third; I'd be happy to have a handle on just the first two.

Things should not be this way. I refuse to believe that a smart person with the entire infosphere at their disposal cannot solve this. I'm sufficiently embarassed to do something about it.

Meanwhile, time for breakfast.

Instant Messenger Reminder Daemons

2009-12-21T12:03:01Z

A number of years ago, I stumbled upon an instant messenger service called IM Smarter. It was an IM daemon -- you signed up on the website, and added the IMSmarter bot to your IM friends list (I believe it worked with AIM or Yahoo Messenger). And then you could open up a chat window, and send commands to the bot. You could do things like:

in 1 hour remind me to put the laundry in the dryer

or

tomorrow at 10:00am remind me to Call the Bank

And so on. The chatbot did some clever parsing of your message, and stored it away in its scheduling queue. And at the correct time, it IMed you with whatever reminder you asked for.

It was brilliant. A cross-platform, always-on, command line type task list and scheduler and reminder service, that required no installation and was available on any computer with an instant messenger (which is every computer, really, since you can do web chats like inside Gmail).

IM Smarter disappeared from the net a few months after I discovered them. The chatbot stopped working, and the website went away. But while it was there, it was so incredibly useful. I've been missing something like it ever since.

The other day, I did some searching to see if there are any similar services. I knew of many sites (including Google Calendar, Yahoo Calendar, Remember The Milk, and hundreds of others) that, once you entered a task or appointment through the website, were happy to notify you of it by IM at the correct time. But that's cumbersome -- what I really needed was an IM Bot, which could take appointments and reminders right in the chat window.

Within minutes, I stumbled on RemindMe, and cheered. This was exactly the kind of thing I was looking for. However, I quickly found out that it was invite-only, and I could see of no easy way to get an invitation.

Temporary setback. Soon I found Yadabot. This bot was even smarter. In addition to reminders, it could perform various other commands -- send emails, get definition and wiki nodes, do whois lookups, translate phrases to other languages, serve as a calculator, and so on. Fantastic, sign me up. I added their bot to my Friends list per instructions, but alas, the bot was offline and not responding. No luck there either.

The pattern continued when I came across a Lifehacker article extolling the virtues of SmarterChild (an AIM bot with similar capabilities). However, the SmarterChild home page, and that of its parent company, were also dead and offline. Ahaa, according to Wikipedia, SmarterChild was acquired by Microsoft in 2006 and retired.

Dammit. To make a long story short, I could not find any currently operating IM reminder services. (Although apparently, you can set up Twitter to IM you reminders via Google Talk).

I'm going to have to code my own IM reminder daemon. It'll go well with the Small Robot project that me and yuki_onna brainstormed about, a while back.

Meanwhile, though, two questions.

1) Does anybody have an invite to RemindMe.com?

2) Are there any other IM reminder bots that I missed, that are working?

Edit: I've been able to rig up something approximate using a twitter-to-IM interface, and the twitter Timer bot, but there's problems there, too, so the search continues.

People as Winds

2009-12-08T12:01:11Z

The people in your life are winds.

Think of yourself as a boat, a vessel. And the people around you are the winds upon the waters. Some of them are brief whirlwinds, some serious storms. Some of them blow soft and steady, and though on a given day you may not notice, one day you look around and see that the winds have carved great arches in the landscape of your life, and all the pine trees lean in one direction from the constant breezes.

Sure, they are agents in the own rights, with their own stories; they are their own vessels. But that actually does not matter. As far as you're concerned, they are winds, and with any duration of presence, they form the tradewinds and climate of your soul.

What kind of winds are they? What are their strengths and headings?

I notice this every time I'm around any group of people. Driving in a car with yuki_onna (I like her. I like the kind of wind she is in my life. also, an inspiring hardcore work ethic, to boot), my heart yearns for artistic and literary projects -- book sites, reviews, translations, hybrids of new and ancient marketing techniques and sales channels for media, software ideas, new food recipes, radical life plans. When I hang out with the local Portland programmer crew, my mind is ablaze with code contributions, with portals, Ruby projects and test-driven development. When I'm barely in the same room as novalis, I find myself thinking about fierce causes and principles, and justice, and the politics of the open source. Whenever I so much as see regyt's name (who, I must always remember, is a-girl-not-a-concept) in my IM list window, I cannot help but think of personal excellence, of fiendish and well-executed schemes, of hard-won art and personal integrity. As I read livejournal and glance at entries of jul3z's, I am seized by the desire to do intelligent game reviews and analysis. When I glance at the journals of tyedie and postgoodism, I am reminded of and galvanized by how much I still have to learn in my profession.

And so on. There is a wind for each individual in my sphere of attention. And sometimes, the winds are strong enough to turn yearning into action, however incremental.

You have to become aware of yourself in ship terms. Winds will always affect you, cause you to drift, either off course or towards your destination. It always, always helps to have a motor as a means of self propulsion; hell, some oars would come in handy. But the winds matter.

What kind of vessel are you? How affected are you by other people; what's your wind drag?

If you're mostly a sailing vessel, it's ok. Be aware of that fact. Own it, in your secret heart. Learn to set and trim your sails. If you know where you want to go (this part is very difficult), try and choose the winds which propel you. Develop secondary propulsion of some kind, in your time off, even if it's strings tied to pigeons.

The question of what kind of a wind you yourself are, is a fascinating one, though possibly not relevant to your navigation, except in a meta sense. While I'm fairly well aware of the effect of other people in my life, I do not know what kind of a wind I am. Most days, I strongly suspect I am a light and fickle one. I have a remote idea of the kind of effect I would like to have, in my best and most awake moments. But the thoughts are not yet clear; and anyway I am so far from that, in means and abilities, that I put the thoughts away, for secret safekeeping. One thing at a time.

Tech Poll - Which Smartphone to Get?

2009-12-07T12:16:26Z

I've been using Palm-based phones and PDAs (Treos, etc) for more than 5 years now. Tech marches on, though, and soon it will be time for an upgrade.

I'm really resisting the idea of getting an iPhone. The fact that I cannot easily develop for it, and even if I do, the notion of me owning a small computer that is so tightly controlled by its mother company, leaves me reluctant.

I'm currently with AT&T. That means:
* If I want to get an Android based phone, I have to either switch to Verizon, or wait until spring to see if rumours of an Android phone coming to AT&T come true. Pros: I really like the platform from what I know of it, and can develop in Java. Tight Google integration.

* If I want to get a Palm Pre (or another Web OS based phone), I have to switch to Sprint (I'd rather not), or wait until one comes to AT&T. Pros: Backward-compatibility with my current Palm apps. Fantastic multitasking smartphone OS. Also good development community. Cons: How is Palm going to play this? Will this turn out to be way less popular than Android-based phones?

View Poll: Tech Poll - Which Smartphone to Get?

Give me your thoughts in the comments.

Accountant recommendation

2009-11-30T12:15:56Z

Peoples in the Southern Maine/Portland area -- do you have any CPA/accountant recommendations? With Cat's writing and all my freelancing, we need all the help we can get to sort out our taxes this season.

Book Meta-Stories, Pillars of the Earth

2009-11-24T15:48:14Z

As I'm listening to Pillars of the Earth, I get really involved in it. I'm all, "Oh no! Will Friar Philip ever build his cathedral?? Will Lady Aliyena ever find peace and restore honour to her family name?" Though I often get involved in books and movies like that, this is an especially gripping book, and I like it more and more the farther into it I go. I love the characters (did I identify with an out-of-work builder who couldn't feed his family and his wife died on the road, in winter? Maybe) and the plot, the voice actor is fantastic, and the author writes good sex scenes.

But that's not why I bring it up.

There was an introduction by the author in the beginning of this edition. He... told the story of the book, placed it in context. He explained where he was in his career as a mystery writer before flipping out and writing a medieval book about architecture. He told about his thought process, why he was inspired to write it, how many years it took. How, when the book came out, it had middling (for him) sales numbers, until it got to Germany, where it shot to the bestseller list and stayed there. And what kind of reactions he's gotten from fans over the years, and how many people this book had touched.

It struck me how hungry I was for that kind of context. And how deeply I wished every book had an introduction like that. In some sense, living with an author has spoiled me -- when Cat's books come out, I already do know the story and the context associated with them, but that of course leaves me wanting to know the same for other author's books.

You can get some of this context if you follow an author's blog (which is why I wish more of my favorite living authors had blogs). Although most times the story comes out in small pieces, and you have to follow the blog over a long period of time. Actually, I wish authors wrote such posts -- the story of the book's making, essentially the author's DVD commentary -- right when the book came out, that they were easily indexed and accessible.

I suppose, at their best, author interviews also try to serve this same sort of purpose. Though, aside from the fact that they're harder to find (not packaged together with the book), they have a subtly different effect. In the sense that, an author writing an introduction to their own book would be much more likely to tell its story in depth, rather than answering the question of "how did you come to write the book like this?" for the tenth time in an interview.

Like with DVDs, I so would not mind paying extra for editions with more features and commentary (either in the physical edition or if I had to go to their site to unlock it).

To-Do Lists and Time Travel

2009-11-19T12:56:19Z

The keeping of to-do lists, with any regularity and for an appreciable length of time, becomes an exercise in time travel and tribal relations.

The to-do list is a time capsule, containing missives and pleas to your future selves. The action items are messages thrown across chasms which start as shallow ditches, but within minutes and mere hours widen into bottomless ravines.

The you of the present moment, if you have your wits and will about you, control a sphere of the world that is, at worst, several minutes in diameter, and at best, if you have good focus, hours, and if you are truly in the zone, a whole day. Beyond that, and certainly overnight, lies the chasm of the future. When looked at from a certain perspective, you die during the night. Fortunately, unless your heart actually stops beating, a fresh clone of you is created the next morning, and helpfully preloaded with (most of) the memories and personalities of the you that existed the day before. The same process is repeated the next day; these individuals, being born and dying anew each day, are the tribe of your future selves, closer than family.

The main question here is this: Why is it not trivially easy to carry out items on your own to-do list? And the answer is: Because the one writing the list, and the one carrying it out are two different people.

So, in order to get most anything done (unless it can be accomplished here and now), you get into the business of sending messages -- letters, emails, IMs, scribbles on bar napkins or pristine bulleted lists -- to your future selves, hoping that they'll find them, read them, hopefully understand what they mean, care enough about you, their ancestor, and finally be persuaded to actually carry out these tasks that you set them. They may remember you fondly, but they will be strangers in a subtle but real way.

Unless the illusion of continuity, the feeling that you are a single unbroken organism moving through time, is particularly strong in your mind, you must fully grasp your situation, and come to terms with the fact that you yourself cannot do much, but must rely on persuading your tribe of future selves to accomplish tasks for you.

The way you choose to carry out your campaign of persuasion depends on your personal style. You can get royal-authoritarian, and simply command them (are they not your temporal children?), assign punishments, or offer rewards for obeying your orders. You can use guilt, fear, and loathing ('send email to so-and so' has been on your to-do list for a year! for shame!). You can give them inspirational speeches, rally them like a politician. You can impose on their kindness as on the kindness of friends and family.

I keep using the word tribe, because essentially, in building up the discipline to consistently accomplish your tasks, you are setting up a culture (spread out in time instead of space, and consisting of your future selves rather than neighbors), a small village, a tribe. Customs and laws have to be set down, respected, enforced. If you're going the authoritarian route, the villagers have to obey their chief. If that's not in place, something else has to be -- your future selves have to at least like and respect their neighbors (predecessors and ancestors). It helps to establish customs and politenesses -- if you helped and obeyed your past selves, your future selves will likely respect you more, and will be more likely to help you in turn.

[Diary] Misha and Tiffin's Wedding

2009-10-15T01:41:21Z

What I remember from this weekend:

* The food was really delicious -- the second wedding in a row where I really noticed and appreciated how good the reception dinner was.

* How radiant babymonkey looked walking down the path in the glen, approaching the altar.

* An airplane hangar full of old war planes is a really bitchin' place to have a reception, somehow cozy and austere.

* HOLY CRAP you guys. The steering and joystick on MiG-17s were not hydraulic-assisted! You wrestled with that plane as if with an angel, turning it just with the power of your muscles. You know how when a car loses power steering it's a bit tough to drive? Imagine that at 500 miles an hour, in the air. Those pilots were seriously strong!

* How much, and with what pleasure the bride and groom danced.

* Hanging out with cygnia & Mike at the bachelor party. Gleefully shooting zombies with Misha, and going to see Zombieland.

* Infinitely long drive back, alone on I-90, with a big yellow crescent moon for company.

EarthSurfer / hacker culture

2009-08-19T14:07:20Z

The local programmer usergroup, Progmatica, who I was thrilled to discover and join (I started up a conversation with one of the guys because he was wearing a jQuery tshirt), is currently looking for an open-source project to join or contribute to.

While we're in the process of brainstorming various ideas and projects to join (preferably in a decent interpreted language (so, basically, Ruby, Python or Javascript), that is small-to-medium size, fun or interesting, and with low-hanging fruit), I was going through various open source repositories like Freshmeat and Google Code.

This project (while not at all useful for our purposes) made me smile:

EarthSurfer is a Mac OSX application that uses a Nintendo WiiBoard to travel over GoogleEarth.. in a milk truck.

..What?

I love hacker culture.

Things on my mind.

2009-08-18T04:32:11Z

Things that are on my mind:

* My personal maritime kami demand the following things as sacrifice:
Eyeglasses. (Current count lost to the water: 2) [Edit: Actually, 3!]
Cellphones. (Current count: 2)
Yes, my favorite Palm Centro just took a dip in the ocean yesterday. Where by took a dip I mean I forgot to take it out of my pocket beforew I went swimming. Dumbass!

So yeah. My phone's not working.

* Oh please oh please, by all that is holy and unholy, let me get this job. I'm perfect for it. I've been training for it all my life, really. What is this interminable waiting after the interview? It's been a week! If you're not going to hire me, just say no! Arrrrgh.

* Why are grills so awesome? Why are grilled meals so insanely better than any other?

* I have really lucked out, as far as weddings and planning. My first one was pretty mild (as far as the bride went), though parents of course contributed tons of stress to it (it's in their contract, I swear. If I ever have kids, will I also go crazy on them come wedding-time? I so hope not). Getting married to Cat? Oh my god, no family is flipping out or making us crazy. What the hell is going on? And Cat is incredibly mild and sweet about it all. Still need to decide what to do about food, though. Hrm.

* babymonkey and mishamish are coming! In a couple of weeks! They're moving in with us for a while (I do so hope they like the island and the city. I mean, way better than southern Ohio.) I love those guys. Like, I know the house will be more crowded, but... all that my beastie mind can think of is "fucking sweet! A proper pack to run with! Best friends, very local!" Yes, I'm a huge dork. (triskelmoon, you understand, right).
I'm excited about all of this like it's Christmas.

Back from Montreal

2009-08-13T04:23:49Z

We're back from Montreal. Cat is weary to the bone and con-shocked and socialed-out, having redlined the amount of panels, signings, engagements, and lost sleep, approaching her design limits. While she was engaged in the usual con whirlwind, I attended a shadow-Worldcon, that is, lacking the funds (and inclination) to buy membership to Worldcon itself, I met her for lunch, attended parties with her in the evening, and spent the rest of the time coding, wandering about old-port Montreal, and eating insanely addictive waffles from a Chinatown convenience store.

I'm glad I went. I was worried at first -- what would I do, not being able to attend panels (a kid in a candystore), and not even able to properly help her, be her loyal con-ly knight-at-arms. But the drive from Portland to Montreal is fucking gorgeous, through weird ME and NH mountains and forests. And the streets were warm and kind. And I got more work done than I would have, staying home. (Also, what was in those waffles? Perhaps I am lost now, goblin-fruit-like, until I reverse-engineer their recipe for myself, and then overdose, and then be cured?).
--
Montreal was.. painfully European. Seeing that particular mix of architecture, old buildings and new ugly 1960s era ones, so familiar, and the port city by the river, my mixed-up immigrant heart beat faster, was disoriented, was filled with longing. I loved hearing the French spoken everywhere. Loved being able to understand it. But speaking-wise.. well, that's much harder. And of course the shopkeepers and waiters do the particular native thing where they immediately switch to English the moment you speak French back to them - out of pity or contempt or impatience, who knows.
--
Summer wanes. And I don't want it to. And I look forward to the Fall. This has probably been the weirdest summer of my life -- full of both depression and strangeness, but also such hunger for this island, this city, this ocean.
I'm still in limbo, behind on work and projects, hiding from everything and everyone. Still not quite real or existing. A shadow boy.
--
For some reason I'm compelled to read about World War I war machines. The submarines (so early! we had them so early in the century!), the early primitive tanks, the battle ships, the dirigibles. Why is this? Ah yes, it's because I'm reading Against The Day by Pynchon (loving every minute of it, by the way). I'm quietly horrified and haunted by it all, and really, what could be more stereotypical, trite perhaps, than the message that WWI was horrible? Still, compelled.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 19 (last chapter)

2009-07-28T19:43:52Z

Chapter 19. The Great Envier Puts On Seven-League Boots And Despite All Resembles A Deflated Balloon
And so, everything would have gone well, if it wasn't for the latest news announcing that the Pharmacy was open.

"In Muhin," said the announcer, "a Pharmacy was unexpectedly opened."

"What's so bad about that?" you will say. "And why was the Healer-Pharmacist so upset?"

He was upset because positively everyone listens to the latest news, and the announcer did say that the Pharmacy came equipped with all the necessities, including the blue spheres. And if it came with spheres, then it would follow that the Great Envier would figure out (or has already figured out) where to find the Healer-Pharmacist, Petya and the Old Horse. And if he figures that out...

Airplanes do not fly to Muhin, and he had to hurry, and so the Great Envier took the Seven League Boots out of his storage closet. They lay about among the junk for many years, but their mechanism still functioned, if you oiled it thoroughly. The only bad thing was, Lora tagged along after him.

"I know, I know everything!" she yelled. "You think I did not hear what the Goose told you?"

"He told me, 'ga-ga'!" yelled back the Great Envier. "I swear to you, and not a word more!"

"No, not 'ga-ga'! He told you that he saw your belt on Petya."

"So what? Who cares? So he saw it."

"No, not who cares! A-a-a! Now you'll eat him! I just know it, you'll turn him into something foul, and eat him!"

"Nothing of the soft, I wouldn't think of it! I mean really, why would I! Calm down, I beg you."

"I won't calm down!"

And she really did not calm down, and so, unfortunately, he had to take her along. This was unwise, because firstly he could only find for Lora the Seven-League Slippers, which constantly fell off of her clumsy feet.

The first time, they fell off on the stairs -- the left one on the seventh floor, and the right one on the third, so that the Great Envier had to shift his own boots in reverse.

Then, only the right slipper fell off. This happened when Lora was stepping across the Moscow River, as the left foot was on the other shore, and the right foot still on this one.

"We'll be late, they'll escape again!" screamed the Great Envier in desperation. "I won't eat him, I give you my truthful honorable word! Stay behind, I beg you!"

"Not for anything!"

"How about we make a deal? I will politely ask him for the belt, and only if he doesn't give it..."

"A-a-a!"

Lora began to cry so bitterly, that they had to go back for the lost slipper, and also to tie it on with an old shoelace.

Meanwhile, they didn't have to hurry, because neither the Healer-Pharmacist, nor Petya, let alone the Old Horse, planned to run. Although when the newscaster said "came equipped with blue spheres", the Healer-Pharmacist, clutching his head, shouted to Petya "Rig up the horse!" and began to pack up his jars and vials. Having gone out into the yard, however, in his long green coat, a bag over his shoulder, and wearing his hat from under which his troubled nose stuck out in a troubled fashion, he saw that Petya, having taken off his belt, was tying it on instead of a torn bridle.

"Where did you get that belt?" yelled the Healer-Pharmacist shrilly.

"Whoooa, horse! Why do you ask?"

"I'm asking you, where..."

"Well, you see, the thing is, Pharmacist sir," began Petya, embarassed. "I took it... You know, over there, on number three Kozihinskaya Street."

With a shaking hand, the Healer-Pharmacist took the belt and laughed.

"And you were silent about it, silly boy? You wore it all this time, and were silent?"

"You see, sir, it was lying about... I mean, hanging on the edge of the bed. So, I just thought..."

"Silence! Now he's in our grasp!"

Now, they are all in my grasp!, thought the Great Envier, pursing his lips in a scary drawn-out fashion.

Only half a kilometer remained until Muhin, and he took off his boots, so as not to overstep the small town.

Grimly, having tucked his small dark head into his shoulders, he appeared in front of the Blue Spheres Pharmacy. And while he was a bit funny looking, barefoot and with his Seven-League Boots slung behind his shoulders by their laces, he also looked fearsome. So that everyone both smiled, and started shaking.

He appeared suddenly. But still, the Healer-Pharmacist just had time to come up with an interesting plan: to shut all the windows, and keep quiet. And when he would get closer, to hold up a sign, "Everything is going wonderfully". And when he would get even closer, a second sign, "We sleep really well." And even closer, a third: "The Zabotkin family - Nothing but success", and then finally, to yell, that with everyone, things were going great, and with him, badly.

All in all, the plan succeeded, but not immediately, because at first the Great Envier pretended to be kind, as he always did when faced with danger.

"Do I not have other pharmacists?" he said as if to himself, but loudly enough that everyone in the house heard him. "So what if one ran off, good luck to him! Let him rest a while, especially since he knows full well that I'm the one in charge of miracles until July first."

Petya held up the first sign out the window.

"Well, so what? I'm very glad," said the Great Envier. "Things are going wonderfully with me too."

Petya held up the second sign, "We sleep really well", and the Great Envier grew a bit pale. As everyone knows, only those with a clear conscience sleep really well, and of course a clear conscience is a thing worth envying.

He closed his eyes, so as not to read the third sign, but curiosity forced him to open them slightly, and he clutched at his heart.

"Is that so? The Zabotkin family, successful?" he asked, smiling fondly. "What business is that of mine? By the way, I'd like to talk to you, Healer-Pharmacist. How are you doing, really? How are things?"

"Yessir, successful!" yelled the Healer-Pharmacist, gathering his courage. "You should read the papers! For his "Portrait Of A Wife", he received the Big Golen Medal. A thousand years can go by, and people will still look at his painting. And by the way, he didn't even think of dying."

"Is that so?"

"Yessir. Went swimming yesterday. He dives like a fish! What's this, do you envy him?"

The Great Envier chuckled awkwardly.

"Not a bit."

"Happy people are everywhere!" yelled the Tailor. "I, for one, am in love, and am going to marry in a few days! Jealous?"

And they started, one after another, to yell out that everything was going well, and would, without a doubt, get better and better. And since he was the Great Unwisher of Good to Everyone and envied all those who were happy with their lives, the envy which filled his heart splashed out with such force, that he even felts its bitterness in his mouth.

"Daddy, let's go home," whispered Lora, frightened, glancing at him.

Now everyone was yelling, even the Goose, who decided to go over to the Healer-Pharmacist's side, just in case.

"Nobody needs your miracles! We have our own, even better ones!"

"Everything is getting better!"

"Have you heard about the satellites? We're sending a fourth probe in a few days, to Mars! What, you jealous of that? You're growing bigger, scoundrel!"

"Just you wait, you'll hear even more!"

And it was true, he grew bigger. His jacket was already ripping at the seams, and buttons flew off of his vest. In front of the house stood a round man on thin legs, with a small, tucked in head.

"Ah!" he moaned. "My belt! Give me back my belt!"

"You can do with suspenders!" shouted the Goose. "Strange, why's he obsessed with that belt!"

The Healer-Pharmacist laughed.

"I cut up your belt," he said, "with big tailor's scissors, cut it into very small pieces."

"I don't belive you!"

He wanted to destroy them all with a look, but his strength was failing him now, and only the door, at which he glanced briefly, flew off its hinges with a bang.

"It cannot be," he whispered. "It cannot be, that it's all true! There are no happy people! Everything is bad, and will get worse! The Tailor will marry, and will live in misery! They won't make it to Mars! The Horse will remain a Horse! The boy will grow up to be a scoundrel! Zabotkin will die! I will not burst! Ah!"

You shouldn't imagine that cracks appeared on him, like on a cold glass into which hot water has been poured. Rather, he looked like a balloon with all the air let out of it. His face wrinkled up, darkened. His lips pursed, but in a helpless and pitiful rather than a scary manner.

And Lora led him away, because she was a kind girl, and a father, even if burst from envy, still remains a father.

After that, everything happened just as the Healer-Pharmacist predicted. The Good Old Horse immediately turned into a kind and pretty young girl, albeit one with a pony tail on her head. But this suited her well, because it soon became apparent that may of her classmates wore just such a pony tail. And Tanya... Well, of what happened to Tanya, we should tell in more detail.

It's been several days that the Magpies from Lihobor have been preparing for an event. An event about which, barely breathing from excitement, all magpies have been chattering from morning to dusk: for the first time in the history of birds on the planet, a School for Magpies was being opened. And by the way, the studies began with the saying, "All that glitters is not gold". An entire half a year was being devoted to the study of it. And of course, in all of the nests, feathers were being groomed and outfits were being sown -- these days, since magpies had stopped stealing, it was not so easy to decorate oneself.

"No, no, you are mistaken. Backs and shoulders are now being worn in light blue, and the head, a glittery golden black."

"My dear, it is you who are mistaken. The back -- pink, and shoulders -- white with blue scales, and the feet -- red."

"Oh no, anything but red! One has to wear something quite formal to the opening of a school!"

Yes, it was a big day for all of the Lihobor Magpies. But especially so for Tanya, because it was none other than her who was named the director of the school.

Serious, shy, holding herself humbly but with dignity, she flew up to the clearing, and the chattering kids fell respectfully silent.

"Well then, children..." began Tanya.

But she had no time to say anything else, because that very minute, in faraway Muhin, the Great Envier burst from envy, and all of his miracles lost their power. Before the children (and the parents, who crowded around all the nearby bushes), a girl appeared, one Tanya Zabotkin, dressed and with hair combed just as she was on that night when she left for the Blue Spheres Pharmacy.

In an hour she was boarding the train, and the magpies followed her. They were so numerous, that a certain local Naturalist even wrote a letter to the paper. He was especially struck by the fact that they, while flying, waved their wings like airplanes -- he did not know that they were saying goodbye to Tanya.

"Shakerak!" yelled Tanya to them out of the window.

This meant: "Good luck!"

"Shakerak margolf!" replied the magpies.

This meant: "Good bye, we will not forget you!"

A month went by, and then another. Autumn came. And in the autumn, as everyone knows, kids forget about what happened in the summer. And so forgot Tanya. And Petya, whom she invited over on the day of her birthday, forgot too, especially since for him, the most important thing were the books that stood in fancy bindings on the shelves of the late Great Envier, and since then he's read many more books, even more interesting.

He gained weight again, but was no longer a coward as before, but a big and brave boy who has seen -- this you could tell from his swollen nose -- quite a lot in life.

Of course, Tanya invited not only him, but also Ninochka, and the Healer-Pharmacist, and the clumsy Lora, who had by now learned to walk lightly like a snow fairy, or at very least not as heavily as a bear.

The kids talked about their own things, and the adults, about their own. And everything went on as if there are no, and never were any, fairy tales in the world.

All of a sudden, Sunspot Bunnies ran all around the room, happy and multicolored, with short pink tails.

Some of them hid among the glasses on the table, and some, jumping and frolicking, ran along the walls. And one, the smallest one, sat himself down on the nose of the Healer-Pharmacist, flattening his multicolored ears.

This was Petya opening the bottle labeled "Sunspot Bunnies" -- one would assume from pure mischief, because everyone was in a good mood already.

But, perhaps the Sunspot Bunnies did not jump out of a bottle? Perhaps, outside someone carried a mirror, or perhaps the windows opened in the house across the street?

All the same, everything ended well. Which is the most important thing, is it not, especially when things begin badly.

The End.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 18

2009-07-24T15:12:47Z

Chapter 18. Magpies

Tanya returned to Lihobor -- what else could she do? With every day she grew more used to the thought that she was not a girl, but a magpie. After all, she grew to like magpies.

"They're lovely people, I mean birds, really," she kept thinking. "True, they are not very smart, but at least they're trusting, and that's not a small thing."

One thing was bad about them -- they kept stealing everything they laid their eyes on. Well, not exactly everything, but only that which glittered. Almost in every nest there lay gold and silver rings, colored pieces of glass with which girls played hopscotch, brooches, earrings and pins. This was unpleasant. Even the White Crow, proud of the fact that she was a crow, still kept returning home with a pretty shiny bauble from time to time. And Tanya simply could not understand how such a dignified woman, respected by all, could recieve her guests while wearing stolen earrings.

"Shaklikrak," said Tanya to her once.

This meant: "Excuse me, auntie, but I simply do not understand -- is it that pleasant a thing, stealing?"

The White Crow shrugged disapprovingly.

"That's still a former honest girl, talking in you," she growled. "No, my dear, stealing is a necessity. Understand? That's why you're a Thieving Magpie."

True, you could not help but agree with this. Nevertheless, while flying by anything that shone, Tanya shut her eyes firmly. And only at the Sun she could look without fear.

"After all, you cannot steal the Sun," she thought, "even if you really wanted to."

And she recalled a tale of how a young magpie decided to steal -- no, not the sun, of course -- but a cute small star that she could not get enough of, ever since she was a child. Her parents tried to talk her out of this foolish venture.

"It is known that the Devil himself had tried to steal the moon," they said to her in an instructive manner, "and even then nothing came of it. Just think of it! The very Devil himself, with horns and tail."

"I have a tail too," said the Magpie without care.

But her tail could not help her, when she set out. She flew for a night and a day, but the little star remained ever as distant. She decided to turn back, but on the way she happened to meet a gyrfalcon, which evidently ate her, since she did not return.

Yes, this was a sad tale which proved, by the way, that stealing is dangerous. But, sadly, the tale did not teach the other magpies anything, although a beautiful poem did get written about the girl who decided to kidnap a star.

When all of a sudden, a rumour went around, that the magpies of Nemuhin decided to give back all the things they have stolen.

"I will never believe this," said the White Crow. "Bees would rather give up stinging, first. Burglary and affectation is in the very blood of the magpies. Now, if these were parrots or birds of paradise, that would be a different matter."

But the rumour was repeated. It was then that Tanya's friend, the very same one who almost died of boredom while hatching her eggs, and was now dying of curiosity, decided to fly up to Nemuhin. And on returning, she told them... Well, it was stunning, what she told them. With her very own eyes she saw a Magpie, who with her very own ears heard another Magpie tell how she saw with her very own eyes a silver ring, which a distant relative of hers returned to some girl named Masha. Why? This was the question that kept all of the Lihobor magpies deep in thought on that day. The answer was unexpected: it was simply because the girl was crying, and the Magpie felt sorry for her.

Of course, it was Tanya who thought up this answer. Moreover, it was her who whispered to the first likely blabbermouth that the magpies of Nemuhin had decided to start returning stolen things.

"You mean, you have not yet given back to the Puppet Theater Dentist his golden teeth?" she asked. "My dear, you are quite behind the latest fashion."

Fashion -- now this was a word that, in an eyeblink, flew across all the magpie nests. After all, who wants to be out of fashion? Immediately many rumours appeared -- magpies could not live without rumours.

"They say, that the Black Loforina herself returned the diamond brooch to the wife of the former secret advisor Dubronosov, which she pilfered in the year nineteen hundred and nine."

"Have you heard, that in an abandoned nest of a wild magpie, they found an emerald from the crown of the Japanese Empress Hihadzuhima?"

Earrings, bracelets, bits of coloured glass, brass buttons from ancient soldier uniforms, pennies, cuff links, and missing eyes from dolls all were returned to their places, and sometimes, to other places entirely. This, however, does not matter. If people lived without them for so many years, then the magpies too -- is this not so? -- could do without them.
This is how those events came to pass, which were the talk of the town. This is where the gold ring came from, which the Machinist from the Green Plantation Trust lost (or thought she lost) twenty years ago, on the day of her wedding. And this is how the Director of the Bathrobe Shop found his golden glasses on the table, which were stolen from him in the past, when he was not yet the Bathrobe Shop Director.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 17

2009-07-10T14:45:01Z

Chapter 17. Tanya Finds the Healer-Pharmacist, and With Him The Second Vial Marked "Water Of Life"

It was difficult to imagine that the thin old man watering the matthiolas from a rusty old watering can was the Learned Gardener himself, of whom it was written that he was supremely kind to flowers, to plants in general and to certain beneficial insects. Without doubt he was a bit colder towards magpies, however, because as soon as Tanya appeared down the road, he fluffed up his hat, lifted his shoulders and froze -- imitating a scarecrow, evidently completely forgetting that it was scarecrows that were supposed to imitate people.

"Excuse me," Tanya began shyly. "I will not touch your flowers, and I've only seen one worm, a half-dead one. I am looking for the Healer-Pharmacist. I heard that he was staying with you."

"Ah, my god! Do not remind me of him," said the Learned Gardener with a sigh. "Do you know this feeling? A person leaves, and it turns out that living without him is plain impossible. But if it was just me! My flowers miss him so much, that I have to water them three times a day. They dry up!"

"Well where is he?"

"I don't know. He was in a great hurry. I fear for him," said the Learned Gardener anxiously. "It seems to me that he was simply fleeing from someone."

What could poor Tanya say to that? She thanked him and flew away.

She would never have found the Healer-Pharmacist, except that in a field near Muhin she ran into the Sunspot Bunnies, who Petya released from a bottle. They were still jumping around, sliding in the grass, hiding from one another. Playing! After all they were bunnies, not grown rabbits.

"Excuse me, please, have you seen a Horse wearing glasses?" Tanya asked them.

"Of course!" said the fuzziest Bunny with the longest multicolored ears. "We were all in a bottle, the bottle was in a bag, and the bag was on the shoulder of the Healer-Pharmacist. The Healer-Pharmacist sat on a cart behind a water barrel, and a horse wearing glasses pulled it. We were all going to Muhin. And would've arrived there, if Petya hadn't let us out from the bottle."

Magpies, as everyone knows, fly slowly, and even prefer to walk rather than fly. But Tanya flew fast towards Muhin, as fast as a swallow, and only swifts can fly faster than swallows. Here is Muhin! And here is the "Blue Spheres" pharmacy! And here is the Healer-Pharmacist! She landed on his shoulder and said:

"Hel..."

She did not have enough breath left for a "...lo".

Tanya's father was not worried about his daughter. He was sure that she went off camping with her Pioneer troop -- so said to him Tanya's mom. The only strange thing was, she did not come in to say goodbye. But her mom said that she did not want to wake up her father, and that was strange at all.

In all likelihood, he would have to die soon -- at very least, so the doctors insisted, presumably when they thought that he couldn't hear them. But he just kept thinking: but what if -- not?

"Well, we'll see about it all," he said to himself, and kept working.

He was drawing her mother's portrait, and as one, all of his friends insisted that this portrait could recount all of her life. Each wrinkle told its story, and although there were many of them by now, it seemed to him that a couple were still missing.

"How about a small one here," he would say, laughing. "And here. And, well, I can do without a third, so be it."

Then one day, when she came in to wish him a good morning, he noticed that on her face appeared exactly that wrinkle which he needed to finish her portrait.

"Finally, everything is in its place," he said, and got to work.

He did not know that the new wrinkle had appeared because Mom was worried about Tanya, of whom she had not heard a word.

He only needed a few days to finish the "Portrait of an Artist's Wife" -- so the painting was called. And as it turned out, it was exactly those few days that were not at all easy to live through. So he tried, and when you try very hard, things become possible that were positively beyond your power. He kept working, and when you work, you don't have time for dying, because even dying takes time.

"Ah, this wrinkle suits you devilishly well," he said to his wife, tiredly, when the brush finally managed to fall out of his hands. "You have never been so beautiful."

The Union of Artists had declared that his exhibition would open on May first, and up till now he was still arranging his paintings -- in his mind, of course. Except that now, he stopped.

"In my will, I bid you to stop touching the wart on your big nose," he said to Doctor Ball. "Eventually, it will get tired, and it will run off from you, and without the wart, mark my words, no patient will recognize you."

He still kept joking!

"It sounds like the 'Portrait of an Artist's Wife' will have to be named the 'Portrait of His Widow'," said his friends.

This too, was still a joke.

But with every hour, he got worse and worse.

"Perhaps I'll get better from cranberries?" he asked his wife. "Or from blackberries?"

"Why don't we try some currant compote?" he asked, when the cranberries and blackberries didn't help.

He had so many friends and students, that when Death entered the room, she had to push her way through the crowd in order to get to his bed.

"Excuse me," she said politely, "did I bump you? Would you be so kind as to let me through? Thank you."

His friends parted reluctantly, and so she was late -- not very late, just for a few minutes. But this was enough: a black and white bird with a long forked tail darted by outside, and into an open window flew a bottle which read "Water of Life".

"Ahhh, finally!" said Doctor Ball. "Now, give me a table spoon."

Death was still pushing through the crowd, but not so decisively as before.

"Pardon me," she said with a weakening voice. "Make way, gentlemen. Really, what is going on here?"

"I'm afraid that you are late, my lady," said the Doctor to her. "If I am not mistaken, you have no business here."

And this was just so.

Tanya's father drank a spoon full of Living Water, and Death stopped, although she was only two steps from the bed. He drank a second, and she started backing away. He drank a third, and Death left the room. She descended the stairs with dignity, as befits a distinguished personage, one who is used to the fact that when all is said and done she would get hers, even though at times she had to wait a day or a year.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 16

2009-07-09T16:01:30Z

Chapter 16. Petya, The Healer-Pharmacist And The Old Horse Head Down To Muhin, Followed (Strangely Enough) By The Blue Spheres Pharmacy
Meanwhile the departure which was merely well worth seeing turned into a departure at which one could not stare enough. While saying good-bye, the Learned Gardener decorated the Old Horse with roses, and now she looked like a kindly gingerbread lion which one just wanted to gobble up - that's how lovely and pretty she looked. There was also a rose stuck in the Healer-Pharmacist's hat, a pale yellow one, a tea rose, so called because it was brought from China. And it is well known that Chinese tea is so good that you can drink it without sugar -- or at least, the Chinese themselves do. Petya who, like all boys, scorned flowers, nevertheless wound a blooming blue vine around the water barrel, and pinned several violets to his jacket. In a word, the departure was drowning in flowers, and it would have been great if the passengers (or at least the Horse) knew where they were going. The traitor-Goose, who they took with them, even asked Petya:

"Tell me please, where do you propose to go?"

He became very polite after the boy almost wrung his neck. But alas, despite Petya's curt reply, "Where we need to!", nobody could answer that question.

"Straight, or to the right?" asked the Horse when they came up to an intersection, on which, bored and with a hung head, stood a tall white signpost. "Muhin - 600 meters" said the arrow pointing straight ahead. "Nemuhin - also 600" said another one, pointing to the right.

"Tally-ho to Nemuhin!" yelled Petya.

The Healer-Pharmacist looked at him strictly, and said to the Horse:

"Straight ahead."

When night came, they had to stop in the open field. The Healer-Pharmacist dozed off, and Petya started checking out his bottles and cans. He opened one of them -- something gleamed in it -- just to sniff, and Sunspot Bunnies started to jump out of the bottle, merry and multicoloured with little multicouloured ears bent back. Some of them slipped off into the dark night sky, others ran off down the road, and the rest, jumping and spinning, hid in the grass.

The label on the bottle read: "Sunspot Bunnies. For bad or even so-so moods. Release one at a time."

Just so! One at a time! Whereas he probably released a good forty or so. And so Petya hurriedly stoppered the bottle, afraid to get in trouble.

By morning they arrived in the village of Muhin, and rented a room from a merry Tailor who sat for days on end, his legs folded under him, and sewed jackets and vests and pants. In the evenings, to exercise his legs, he skated -- on roller skates in the summer, and ice skates in winter. On rollers he was the best skater in Muhin, and on ice skates nearly the best in the Soviet Union. If not for the music he might have even become a champion, so deftly could he write on the ice the name of the girl he was going to marry.

"Could you please cure me of my love of music?" he asked the Healer-Pharmacist. "It so happens that each evening, the orchestra plays by the skating rink, and I so love music that I forget about my turns and figures. Once, for example, I was so distracted that instead of a three-and-a-half flip, I did just a triple. What good is that?"

This was the first time that the Healer-Pharmacist was faced with such a strange ailment. He could cure the love of money, the so-called greed. The love of alcoholic drinks, also. But the love of music... He promised to think about it.

All in all, aside from the Goose, who was constantly afraid of being eaten, life in Muhin would have been wonderful. Every morning, the Goose would start up:

"You won't eat me, will you?"

"No, we won't eat you," they answered. "If only because your meat is old and tough. Otherwise, we'd eat you, because you're a traitor."

"Well, so what? Who cares! So I'm a traitor. How about you let me go. They're waiting for me at home."

You can't go home.

Why?

"Because, you'll tell the Great Envier that we're in Muhin. And he'll make such trouble, that watch out!"

The Goose calmed down, but the next morning would start up again:

"You won't eat me, will you?"

All in all, everything would have been great, if it wasn't for the Pharmacy, which was missing its Pharmacist.

The bottles missed him -- the big ones, the small ones, and even the very tiniest, into which you could barely fit a tear drop. The Blue Spheres missed him, so used were they to listening to their master mumble and talk to them like to real people. The powders dried out and yellowed. Mold appeared on the potions. And although many modern doctors insist that mold is also a medicine, nobody has yet tried to use it to cure laziness or envy. The only person who visited the pharmacy was the Tailor from Muhin, and even then only for a few minutes -- he had some business in Moscow, and was in a hurry. The Healer-Pharmacist gave him his keys, so he could try and find a cure for his love of music, which got in the way of becoming champion.

Without a doubt, the squirrels missed him most of all. Nervously twitching their fluffy tails, they kept listening -- is that not the creak of a door, not the steps of their master?

It was them who started this migration -- evidentally the only one in the history of Pharmacies and Pharmacists of the world. Crouching on their hind paws, they hopped into the small room behind the Pharmacy, and from there into an open window, the very same through which the Magpie flew out.

How they discovered that the Healer-Pharmacist was hiding out in Muhin, remains unknown, although one can figure that they found out from the Tailor. One way or the other, the squirrels hopped out and started flying -- for they are excellent flyers. The powders, tablets, mixtures, herbs, boxes and potions all chased after them, to find their master, and among them of course that very potion which read "Water of Life". And finally, the last ones to rise slowly into the air were the Blue Spheres themselves -- the left one, which read "Welcome To", and the right, one which read "Our Pharmacy".

All of this happened very quickly -- the Tailor barely had time to blink before his workshop turned into a Pharmacy: the powders, a bit mixed together during the flight, all took their proper places, and the mixtures and potions all lined up in rows. And although it was a bit crowded in the workshop, it was way more roomy on the long tailor's table than on the spinning pharmacy shelves. The Blue Spheres, by force of habit, found themselves a place above the windows. The cardboard that was hanging between them also made its way to Muhin, but this time Petya changed the sign to read: "Believe it or not, the pharmacy is Open."

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 15

2009-07-08T12:44:46Z

Chapter 15. Tanya Looks For The Healer-Pharmacist, And The Recently-Shy Rabbit Directs Her To The Learned Gardener
Unfortunately, the Old Horse was right: girls quickly get used to the thought that they are magpies. The same thing happened to Tanya. She could now speak magpie better than she could speak human. She started to forget how to say "dog", "grass", or "cow". You couldn't say that she was overly proud of her long forked tail, although she did glance at it not without pleasure, having stretched it out in the sun, so that each feather glinted with gold.

She lived with the White Crow, a comely and even very recently beautiful woman, who unfortunately gained much weight in her old age. Although she took it bravely.

"One must fight it," she used to say, and, having flown around above the Birch grove, would ask Tanya, "What about now? Have I lost weight?"

As everyone knows, the best way to lose weight is to stand on one leg after dinner. And so she stood for a long time, patiently, with a suffering smile, while envying the herons who spend half their life on one leg, not even realising how hard that is.

At first, all the magpies seemed to look alike to Tanya, and the White Crow advised her that she should start by learning to tell her own self apart from the rest.

"Well, after you can tell yourself apart from the others," she pronounced sagely, "it is not so difficult to tell apart the others from yourself."

And truly, it turned out not so difficult. Some of them walked about shaking their tails like thrushes, others like pied wagtails; some of them perfumed themselves with oak sap, and some with birch; some of them painted their eyelashes with powder from butterfly wings, and others with ordinary dust mixed with water. Although all of them chattered without exception.

"Do you know..."

So began any conversation, followed by some piece of news -- magpies could not live without news.

"Do you know, that in the neighboring forest narrow feathers have gone completely out of fashion?"

"No, you don't say!"

"I do, just as you've heard me."

Or:

"Have you heard, that a Spanish Blue Magpie has arrived at the Misty Clearing? Her feathers - wondrous!"

"No, you don't say!"

"I do, just as you've heard me. She beats her wings just like us, but instead of our beats, you hear "clickclickclickclack". It's just marvelous, marvelous, one can't get enough!

Professor Foamster insists that magpies feed on fresh Swiss cheese, and not just on earth worms as is the claim of Professor Mamlugin. But that very same Foamster posits (albeit, quite cautiously) that they also feed on rumours and news, as dressing for the swiss cheese.

"If this was not so," he writes in his opus 'Magpie as Magpie', "they would not chatter at all, evidently. After all, one must chatter about something, no?"

This was decidedly so, and Tanya, having spent several days among the Magpies, was forced to agree with him. That same young magpie, who she met in the Birch garden, almost died of boredom for the very reason that she was sitting on her eggs, and so could not leave the nest to find out some piece of news or other.

They ended up having to call the ambulance, and she came to only when the paramedic whispered to her (in secret), that her neighbor had fainted after realizing that she had just hatched a cuckoo.

And this was why the White Crow had promised Tanya to help her find the Healer-Pharmacist.

"Without a doubt, there simply must be plenty of news and rumours", she said, "about a man who walks about in a green skull cap. And if he is a bachelor, on top of that..."

"He is old. Half a year until retirement."

"So what? All the better."

And she was right -- after two or three days, the magpies had carried in on their tails an interesting story: an ordinary Rabbit, differing from others even more ordinary ones only in that he could not bring himself to tell a certain lady rabbit "Will you be my wife?", suddenly grew brave, told her, and got married. Who had cured him of his shyness? A long-nosed little man, though wearing a hat and not a skull cap.

"Ah, so what!" said Tanya happily, "He must have exchanged his cap for a hat, along the way."

She flew over to the formerly shy Rabbit, and he came out with his wife and children -- of whom he had three, already.

"Shyness is nothing more than a lack of manners," he said. "I hope that my wife and I will be able to instill that in our children. Yes, the Healer-Pharmacist had asked me how to get to the Learned Gardener. And I told him the way, even though I was still shy. You're going by foot or by air? Better by air -- closer and easier to find. A red shingled roof. Thank you. Good bye. Have a good trip. Children, what do you say?"

"Have a good trip," said the rabbit children in chorus.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 14

2009-07-07T22:25:34Z

Chapter 14. The Liar Goose

"No, the Healer-Pharmacist has not dared prepare a prescription for Tanya's father," thought the Great Envier. "After all, do I not often call him 'old man', or 'old dog'? Of course, there are all sorts of scoundrels in the world. You can treat them nicely, and they'll go and ruin things. But, not this one! Only half a year until retirement. And I did talk to him all crafty like: threatened him, and praised him. Ah, but what if he still prepares it? What if the Paint Smearer gets well? I'm scared to even think it!"

"To hell with the belt," he thought grimly. "So it's missing, so what. It's time for me to get used to doing without it. It's life that taught me to envy -- I am a kind man by nature! I'm ready to give everything to anybody I meet on the street. Right now, for example, I would give the shirt off my back, if only it meant the Painter would die."

Ever since he lost the belt, he had not read the papers. What for? They might print something good, and it was bad for him to worry. What if they printed that somebody got an award, god forbid, or that things were going well in general. No thank you, to hell with them. But he did listen to the radio from time to time.

And so one day he heard on the news that shortly there will be an exhibition in the Grand Hall of Masters. That was only half the trouble. But all the paintings in the exhibition belonged to Tanya's father. Now this was a real treachery! And not only that -- the Great Envier suddenly felt that he could not breathe -- the painter himself will be present at the opening, having recovered after a long illness. That's exactly what they said -- 'himself'.

It's possible that the Great Envier would have had a heart attack then and there, except that the bell rang. Somebody came to see him, and hurriedly, after swallowing an anti-envy potion, the Great Envier went to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Gaa-gaa."

This was the Goose, the very same of whom people said "a wild Goose chase". He was a liar, but also foolish, and he could only fool those who were even more foolish than him. The Great Envier had sent him to find out where the Healer-Pharmacist had run off to.

"Ahh, so it's you, old man. How are things?"

"Things are ga-ga."

"Speak more clearly."

"I found them," said the Goose triumphantly. "They are hiding out in the Kings Of Fresh Air village, in the house of the Learned Gardener."

"Ahaa, even so! Excellent!"

"Excellent, but not quite. You won't find them there."

"Why?"

"Because yesterday, the cottonwoods started blooming."

"So what?"

"So -- he flies, ga ga."

"Who?"

"Not who, but what," said the Goose. "Cottonwood down."

"I don't understand."

"Each fluffy seed will immediately report your approach to the Healer-Pharmacist. The Learned Gardener had ordered it, and even the hundred year old oaks don't dare contradict him, let alone some seeds. I have down, too, which is why I was interested in this matter at one point. But I have a different kind, a so-called goose down. You need intrigue here, ga-ga. For example, I can put on a kerchief and come up to the house, make like and old woman selling mushrooms. And you can hide under the mushrooms. You'd have no trouble. They'd go to buy them, and you - hop out! And ga-ga!"

"And your nose?"

"Well, so what, some old women have noses like that. How about this: we'll throw a net over the house, so that everyone is caught, and then extract them in order -- the Healer-Pharmacist, the Horse, and Petya."

The Great Envier winced -- he could not stand fools.

"Yes, that's a thought," he said. "But you understand, old man, that's a messy business. If we are to weave a net, I'd need it for other things, far better. By the way, you didn't happen to see if there was a belt lying around? An ordinary, shabby one? An simple old belt with a buckle? Seen it?"

"I saw it. It was on Petya."

"What?!"

"You heard me. And why do you need a belt? I, myself, prefer suspenders."

"Certainly, certainly," said the Great Envier, worried. "Me too. Listen up, then: first of all we have to pick a windy day. Cottonwood down is easily carried on the wind. If a north wind is blowing, for example, and you arrive from the north, then they won't notice you. Second, you have to put not a kerchief, but a bow tie -- you'll look stately in a bow tie. So then you'll come up to the house, introduce yourself politely, and say, 'May I please see the Healer-Pharmacist, from the Blue Spheres pharmacy?' And he'll say: "What for?" -- "A noted astronomer is coming to visit you." -- 'Why?' -- 'Because, his wife hit not the brow but the eye [Note: The russian expression 'To hit not the brow, but the eye' means 'To make a witty on-target remark, to be completely right about something'], and now he can't tell the Big Dipper from the Little. Would you be so kind as to receive him?' And instead of the astronomer, I will arrive. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Good man!"

I must tell you here, that Lora was in the next room, and heard all of this. She was sitting on Petya's chair, and reading Petya's book, the very same that he didn't have time to finish. She was drawing devils on the margins, and they were coming out just like Petya's -- with long tails, curved like question marks. As for the reading -- it wasn't going well. Maybe because Petya was interested to see what happens next, but she didn't care. She was glad to hear that the Goose knew where to find Petya.

When the goose was leaving, she caught up with him on the stairwell and asked him to hand Petya a note. The note was short: "Beware."

Although, she wrote "Bewere", but only because she was very flustered: what if the Goose won't take it? But the Goose took it. Maybe if he could read, the note would have been in the Great Envier's hands in a moment. But he couldn't. He couldn't even imagine what trouble this little note could cause him.

And it just so happened, that on that very day the North Wind blew in from the Near North! Chilled, with icicles in his moustache, puffing his cheeks, he went to work -- ripping roofs off, breaking trees, shaking houses, whistling in the chimneys. He immediately carried all the cottonwood fluff to a place where cottonwoods don't even grow. And the Goose, dressed in smartly ironed pants, new suspenders and a black bow tie around his neck, arrived at the Learned Gardener's house unnoticed by anyone.

Everyone was at the house. The Healer-Pharmacist, Petya and the Learned Gardener were drinking tea on the open veranda, and the Horse in glasses wondered about, browsing on grass which seemed to her sweet as sugar.

"Good day," said the Goose politely. "How lovely it is to take tea."

"Good day. Please, join us."

"Thank you, but I cannot. No time. Things to do."

And the Goose told the Healer-Pharmacist about the famous astronomer, who's wife hit not the brow but the eye. He got some of it wrong, and simply called the Big Dipper "ga ga". But the Healer-Pharmacist understood him nevertheless.

"Let him come," he said. "Of course, an astronomer needs his eyes. Almost like a pharmacist needs his nose."

He had never refused somebody in need.

"Many thanks," said the Goose and bowed, shuffling his paws in his freshly ironed pants.

Suddenly, he remembered about the note, which Lora asked him to give to Petya.

"Beg pardon, may I talk to the boy?" he said. "I have business with him. Private, so to speak ga ga."

Petya jumped up from the veranda, and took the goose aside.

"Spill it!" he said.

The Goose took the note from under his wing. And here is where the trouble happened, which the Goose could have easily foreseen, had he been smarter. Petya read the note, and muttering "Aha, understood," grabbed him by the throat.

"Betrayal!" he yelled to the Healer-Pharmacist. "The Great Envier had sent this spy to us! We must run. Listen: you pack your things, and I'll ready the Horse."

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 13

2009-07-03T18:33:20Z

Chapter 13. The Healer-Pharmacist Says Goodbye To His Pharmacy, And The Good Old Horse Puts On Glasses

What did the strange cardboard sign "Believe It Or Not -- The Pharmacy Is Closed" hanging between two blue spheres mean? It is not worth worrying about this puzzle, especially since nothing could be simpler. The Healer-Pharmacist got scared. And when people get scared, they run.

"I must make it look like I'm gone," he thought while talking to the Great Envier on the phone. "And when a person is gone, you cannot fire him, since you cannot fire a person who is not there. Great idea! But it's hard to make it look like I am not there, since here I am, in my skull cap and green suit, with my powders and mixtures, which nobody can figure out except for me. That means, I have to flee. But to where?"

He decided to flee to the Learned Gardener, a most sympathetic man who, as the newspapers frequently wrote, was wonderfully nice to flowers, plants in general, and even some insects. Maybe one could figure that he would be as nice to certain people, namely, the Healer-Pharmacist. So, it's decided!

He was just about to call a taxi, when at that very moment - Wham! - the Old Horse knocked.

"Ahaa, just in time!" he shouted. "Hello, Ninochka. I hope you are not too busy, and could give me a ride to see the Learned Gardener?"

"Of course I can!" neighed the Horse, thrilled.

Now, this was a departure worth looking at! On his way out, the Healer-Pharmacist put on his coat (also green -- he had a weakness for this color), and changed his skull cap to a wide brimmed hat, from under which his troubled nose stuck out sadly. Across his shoulders he slung his traveling bag, in which cans and jars clanged about. He sat at the front of the cart, so that the water splashed behind him comfortingly, and kept looking from side to side -- maybe the Magpie is flying by? Petya clambered up onto the barrel. What boy can resist a ride on a water barrel?

As for the Horse... Oh, this was one of the happiest days of her life! When the Healer-Pharmacist was packing, she asked him for a gift of glasses. Of course, if he had more time, he would have given her glasses matched to her vision. But he was in a great hurry, and accidentally gave her glasses through which the entire world seems happy and triumphant.

And now she was wearing those glasses, which looked quite lovely on her kind velvety nose. The first two or three kilometers, she walked carefully, on tiptoe, but as soon as the city, with its gleaming headlights scornfully peering at a water barrel nag, was left behind, she broke into a run, dancing and singing to herself.

Like all sincere, simple hearted folk, she sang of everything that she encountered on the road. But she did not encounter those things that she saw. Or, rather, she saw things quite differently than what she encountered. Masons in gray aprons were building a house, and it seemed to her that their aprons were not gray but bright blue, and that the bricks flew by themselves into their hands; boys were dragging their feet on the way to school, and it seemed to her that they ran with all their might, so as to make it in time for the first bell. This was dangerous, even, since on one of the streets, workers were finishing repairing a bridge, but to her it seemed that the bridge was already finished, and the water cart with passengers almost tumbled into the ditch.

The Lazy Girl was lying on the side of this ditch, having stuffed her arithmetic textbook behind her head, and sunning her bare legs.

"Tell me please, how do we get to the Learned Gardener?" said the Healer-Pharmacist to her.

"Won't tell."

"Why not?"

"Lazy."

"But you already said three entire words?" said the Healer-Pharmacist, with interest.

"Yeah. But I won't tell you the address, it's too long."

"A rare case," proclaimed the Healer-Pharmacist who, like all doctors, loved rare cases and thought himself the only one capable of solving them. "Here, take this."

He offered her a box with powders.

"Take this before school."

"I won't take it."

"Why?"

"Too much effort."

"You're too lazy to take medicine for laziness?"

"Yes."

"Understood. Petya, grab her!" said the Healer-Pharmacist, now grown angry. "Here! Aha!"

And he poured into her mouth three doses of the powder at once.

Yes, this was truly a strong preparation! Suffice it to say, from this moment on nobody would call the Lazy Girl lazy. They could call her any number of things -- cruel, impolite, silly, ungrateful, capricious, but lazy -- never! She jerked and jumped up on her feet, and immediately rattled off the Learned Gardener's address:

"Kings Of Fresh Air Village, Live-Forever street, building seven-by-nine-sixty-three, apartment eight-by-nine seventy-two."

Of course, she wanted to say, building three, apartment two, but she couldn't wait to learn the multiplication table as fast as she could.

"Thank you," said the Healer-Pharmacist. "And how do you get to the Kings Of Fresh Air Village?"

"Straight till the turn, nine-by-nine eighty one," said the previously Lazy but now Studious Girl, "and then a left, ten-by-ten one hundred."

All the same, if it wasn't for the Shy Rabbit, they would not have made it to see the Learned Gardener. The thing is, the Old Horse ran towards the turn not straight but crookedly (since in the Magic Glasses, everything crooked seemed straight to her), and then turned not left, but right. Do you understand now, why they lost their way?

It was at that moment that the Rabbit peeked out from the rows of the cabbage field. He peeked out, and then hid, though his ears still stuck out. Once again, he peeked out and hid, and the ears remained. And a third time... But at this point, the Healer-Pharmacist hailed him.

This was an ordinary Rabbit, differing from the other even more ordinary ones only in that he could not bring himself to tell a certain young girl rabbit fresh out of school, "Will you be my wife?"

Sometimes he would say "Will you...", and other times he could even manage "be my..", but then he would only blush and fall silent, and the only thing remaining for the girl was to wiggle her ears in disappointment.

"Strange," she thought. "Perhaps, he wants to say 'Will you be my sister'?"

Lowering his eyes, the Rabbit stood before the Healer-Pharmacist, and could not utter a word out of shyness.

"Ahaa, I understand," said the Healer-Pharmacist kindly. "Nothing strange. A most acute shyness. It passes with years. Take two drops with sugar, two or three times a day. Only don't overdo it. I had one case, where a certain shy youth, kind of like you, drank the entire vial at once, and turned quite insolent."

At this, he offered the Rabbit a vial and a pipette. What should the Rabbit have said? Well of course: "Thank you, although I do not have any sugar, sadly. Could I take this medicine with cabbage?" But he only opened and closed his mouth.

"Mister Pharmacist," shouted Petya. "What are you thinking, really? Where would he get sugar? He's a rabbit."

"Even so," agreed the Healer-Pharmacist. "But you can take these drops with plain water. We'll do this now. Petya, pour out a glass. Well, brother Rabbit, have courage."

The Rabbit drank the mixture.

"Thank you," he said, barely audible. "You're lost," he added a bit louder. "The way to the Learned Gardener is to the left, not to the right," he said in a normal tone, like a most ordinary non-shy rabbit. "He lives in a green house with a shingled roof!" he shouted, apparently forgetting that a minute ago he could not utter a word. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry."

With all his might, he ran off to find the rabbit girl, to ask her "Will you be my wife?".

Even so, it was with great difficulty that they found the Learned Gardener's house. The thing was, the house was very small and green colored, and the garden was very large, and also green. And it's difficult to find green in green, especially if the first green is small, and the second -- large.

The task of finding the Learned Gardener in the large green turned out even more difficult. Petya ran down all the paths, until he stumbled on a thin old man in a wide-brimmed hat, who was crouching and, with a careworn face, listening in on a conversation between the Tulip and the Rose.

"Impossible, just impossible," said the Tulip. "Just imagine it, not a single rainfall in ten days. You've grown pale."

"In the end, this heat will kill us," answered the Rose. "You cannot imagine how thirsty I am."

"Where is your dew?"

"The bees drank it."

Yes, the heat was immense. The violets were just about to close forever, the matthiolas were lying about in a faint, and only the cana lilies proudly lifted their fiery red wings to the sun.

That's why the Learned Gardener was so glad to see the Old Horse at his gate who, apparently -- he jumped up from happiness -- brought an entire barrel of cool clear water. At the reigns sat an old man in a long green jacket and a wide brimmed hat.

"Aha, I understand," thought the Learned Gardener. "This is the new water bearer's uniform."

"Welcome," he said. "You've come just in time. Allow me first of all to thank you on behalf of my garden, which is positively dying of thirst."

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 12

2009-07-02T17:20:10Z

Chapter 12. The Water Of Life Turns Into A Lilac Bush, And Tanya Meets The Magpie From Lihobor
The Water of Life splashed about in the vial. Tanya clutched it hard in her curved black beak. Just a couple more wing beats, and she'll be home! Here is the familiar roof in the distance. Sparrows sat about on the chimneys, and all of a sudden they all fluttered away, as if afraid of the big black and white bird carrying something strange in her beak. What if it explodes or something? On Bear Mountain street, boys were flying a kite. They too noticed Tanya, especially since the wind picked up and blew the kite towards her. It was a scary one, horned, with a stuck out red tongue. Any other magpie would have screamed for help. But Tanya did not scream, since she would drop the vial! She closed her eyes, and approached the kite. To greet it and pass it by -- this was the best course of action. But for this, she would have to open her beak, which she kept shut even more tightly.

"Thief-magpie!"

"Look, guys! It stole something!"

A stone hit Tanya hard on the shoulder, another scratched her leg, and the third... the third smashed the vial! A thin strand, glittering in the sunlight, stretched between the earth and sky. This was the spilled Water Of Life, and at the place where it landed there grew such a beautiful lilac bush, that the Learned Gardener immediately wrote a book about it, called "Miracle On Bear Mountain."

Distraught, worn out, and with a sprained wing, Tanya flew back towards the Pharmacy. She recalled that the Healer-Pharmacist prepared two vials of living water. What luck! But a piece of cardboard, hanging between two blue spheres read "Believe it or not -- the pharmacy is closed." The handwriting was Petya's, and nobody else would have drawn a little devil in the corner, with a tail curved like a question mark.

An hour passed, then another, and a third. It started raining. Tanya was soaked to the last feather -- and this was just wonderful, since she was afraid to fall asleep, and how can you fall asleep under the rain, especially without an umbrella, right? But the rain stopped, and she did fall asleep. The sun came up; when she opened her eyes, the building entrances sparkled after the rain, as if drawn with chalk on glossy paper, and the piece of cardboard was still hanging between the blue spheres. The Healer-Pharmacist had not returned. Where was Petya, in this case? Tanya flew to the Racetrack to see the Old Horse, but she was not in her stall; instead, a rude Drafthorse with an orange tail was standing in her stall and sleeping.

"Excuse me, do you know?.. Before you, this girl often stayed in this stall... I meant, this horse."

"The mare Appetite has been dismissed," neighed the Drafthorse, waking up -- he used to carry an important Warehouse Director, and was used to speaking at a brief clip just like him.

"Dismissed? Why?"

"For having fled in an unknown direction, having stolen official property -- a cart and water barrel."

Nothing remained but to apologize politely and fly away. But to where?

In a foul mood, Tanya hid in the thickest greenery of the Birch Gardens. Everything seemed to her in a black light, even the sun itself, which she, like all magpies, could stare at without blinking. The blue sky seemed gray to her, the green leaves -- dirty orange, and the bird sitting on a neighboring tree, a most ordinary boring crow.

"Shakikrakishakerak," said the crow suddenly.

Very odd! In clearest Magpie this meant "Good evening!".

"Karshishkarirashkerash," quickly answered Tanya.

This meant: "What a pleasant surprise! Imagine, I had mistaken you for a crow."

"No, I am a Magpie. The Crow, if you mean the White Crow, is my aunt. Do you live here in town?"

"Yes. And you?"

"I prefer the countryside. It's too noisy here. You know how it is, just impossible to concentrate. What a lovely feather ruffle you have on your head!"

"Oh my, it's nothing special. Now, I did lose a feather tonight. I still haven't recovered. You know, this pure white one, with a black fringe."

"You don't say! And you haven't found it?"

"No, of course not. I miss it terribly. What is that on your leg? Is it a ring? How lovely! Turquoise?"

"Yes. I even have turquoise earrings. But I can't find the right brooch. You won't believe it -- I have been searching all the stores for it, lately. Just not there! I could just cry."

"And this ring you bought at the department store, too?"

"Bought? What for? Stole it, of course."

They chattered a bit more, and then the Magpie invited Tanya over to her place in Lihobor.

"I live with my aunt," she explained. "She will be delighted. It's not far to fly, only a hundred kilometers."

"Careful, Tanya. Remember that girls quickly get used to being Magpies, especially since they like to chatter in general. You're a girl, not a Magpie." One could imagine that the Good Old Horse was right here, so clearly did Tanya hear her sad warning voice. But she was tired, and hungry. What harm could it do, if she spent a day with this happy Magpie?

"Unfortunately, I must find the Healer-Pharmacist," she said. "He left and hasn't returned. I have waited for him all night."

"Well, so what? Auntie will tell you where he's gone to. You know how smart they are, those crows.

Tanya thought.

"Krakeshak," she said finally.

In the clearest Magpie tongue, this meant: "I accept".

They had to swerve quite a ways, but, leaving the city, she could not help stopping by the old house, even for a moment!

The window of her father's room was swung open, and he was lying in bed and drawing, while Mom sat nearby with a book in her hands. She had a very sad face. No doubt, she was worried about Tanya. But for some reason, she felt better, when she saw a Magpie nod to her as she flew by the window.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 11

2009-07-01T16:08:53Z

Chapter 11. The Healer-Pharmacist Talks To His Boss On The Phone, And The Old Horse Delicately Knocks On The Door Of The Blue Spheres Pharmacy
The Healer-Pharmacist could tell right away that Tanya had not brought the belt.

"Don't you dare tell me you didn't find it!" he yelled, clutching his heart. "All is lost, if you didn't find it. He'll figure out that it was you, and if he does..."

Magpies don't cry, as Professor Foamster argues, or at least cry very rarely, as Professor Mamlugin insists. But Tanya was a girl until very recently, and there is nothing strange in that she started bawling.

"Don't you dare!" the Healer-Pharmacist shouted shrilly. "You'll soak through my suit (Tanya was sitting on his shoulder), and I'll catch a cold -- I don't have time to be sick! And who is this boy here?"

The boy standing at the door looking guilty was Petya, and the Healer-Pharmacist wouldn't clutch at his heart so often if he only knew that Petya was wearing a belt, an old shabby belt from ordinary leather. But he did not know this.

"I have my hands full as it is, with just you! And now I'll have to deal with this coward. Leave me alone! I have a bad heart. Let me die in peace."

But he, it seemed, did not yet want to die, as he downed a shot of cognac and then, after thinking a bit, downed another.

"Poison," he said, with relish. "Give me the prescription, foolish girl. He will figure it out, that it was you, and I'll be fired of course, if I give you the medicine for your father. And I only have half a year left until retirement, you understand. My god, my god! All my life, I have tried to not do anything nice for people, but I've never succeeded, never! And now, again! Very well then! This is the last time. May I die on this very spot, if I'll ever do anything nice for people again. Now animals, that's another matter. For birds -- any time! But people... Why are you so thin, boy? Are you hungry? Take this sandwich! Eat! Eat, I tell you, eat, you scoundrel! Ohh, what trouble you all are."

He grumbled, sighed and blew his nose into an enormous worn out green handkerchief, although, as everyone knows, all the pharmacists in the world try not to blow their noses as they're preparing a prescription. Or if they do blow their nose, at least not into green worn out ones, but into new, white as snow handkerchiefs. But he blew his nose, and blinked, and scratched himself, and even snorted approvingly once or twice, when it became clear that he was preparing for Tanya's father not an ordinary drug, but a real miracle. The only bad thing was, that instead of one vial he accidentally prepared two, and for two he would get into twice as much trouble.

"Here, Tanya. Take it."

The Magpie carefully took the vial, on which was written "Water Of Life".

"Good. Now as for the second one, we'll hide it. God forbid, it might come in handy. Good luck to you. Now hurry!" he shouted and stomped his feet. "Or I'll change my mind! Ohh, I am so sick of you all!"

And so Tanya flew away -- just in time, too, because just then the telephone rang, and the Healer-Pharmacist heard a voice which could truly make him change his mind.

"How are things, old man?" asked the Great Envier. (Unfortunately, it was him.) "I want to thank you for the mixture. I slept like a baby. You're amazing!"

"You're welcome, I'm glad to hear it."

"Louder!"

"I'm glad to hear it!" yelled the Healer-Pharmacist.

"Well then. Incidentally, please keep in mind, that we have a good relationship. Just now, for example, I would gladly pat you on the shoulder, it's true. By the way, you seem to like birds, right?"

"What?"

"Birds, I said! Sparrows, canaries, magpies, that sort of thing?"

"Birds? No. I mean, it depends on the birds. Useful ones, sure. Ones that sing. But sparrows, no. They don't sing."

"Understood. Incidentally, you haven't seen a Magpie fly in recently, have you?

"No. Why?"

"Oh, you know... I woke up, and found a Magpie feather on the floor. A bird dropped it. Well, you know me! I wanted to return it. It's probably looking for it, feeling bad. So, then, one hasn't flown in?"

"No."

"Hmmm. All the better. Good bye, then. Oh wait! I hope you haven't forgotten, that I personally am in charge of miracles, until further notice?"

"Of course not!"

"Ah, well then. Good bye."

They simultaneously put down the phones, and started pacing to and fro: the Great Envier with a malicious set of his small dark head, like a bull, and the Healer-Pharmacist clutching at his long nose grown suddenly even thinner. They paced, thinking about each other. The thoughts of the Great Envier flew towards the pharmacy, and the thoughts of the Healer-Pharmacist -- straight towards number three Kozihinskaya street -- and it is no wonder that they collided on their way. There was a crash, not a very loud one, but loud enough that it scared the Horse, who was pulling a water barrel along Eagle Mountain. This was the very same Old Horse who was once called Ninochka, and now -- Appetite. She had long since wanted to find out whether Tanya filled out her prescription, and also, is possible, to buy glasses from the Healer-Pharmacist. Although, truth be told, she had nothing to buy them with.

"But, perhaps," she thought, "I could do him a favor of some sort? For example, you need water for mixtures and potions. Of this I have plenty, and it's fresh and tasty."

"...Ah, it's hard to live without glasses," she thought sadly. "Especially when even your friends keep trying to steal your hay from under your very nose. Although, what kind of friends are they to me? Have they ever worn ribbons in their braids? Have they ever received an honorary certificate, like I did when I graduated second grade? Who danced better than me at school? Who sang, like a nightingale, "Neeeeigh, neeeeigh!"?"

It seemed to her that she stood on tiptoe and sang, when really she raised her tail and neighed. The Healer-Pharmacist, still pacing from corner to corner, heard this and was alarmed.

Wham! - The pharmacy glassware rang out in answer, and the porcelain squirrels crouched, flattening their ears.

Wham! - This was, of course, the Old Horse. It seemed to her that she was delicately knocking, so softly one could barely hear.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 10

2009-06-23T14:00:05Z

Chapter 10. The Great Envier Cannot Find His Belt, Despite Being Sure That He Left It On His Bedboard
"Enemies!" he thought grimly, gnawing his fingernails and tucking his small dark head into his neck. "People are jealous of me, that much is clear. I'm in public view, I'm barely forty but already a Chief Advisor. I am too trusting, and only grief can come to the trusting. Why, I befriended this boy here, and he left without even a thank you."

"Let us think calmly: The Magpie came not for the boy, but for the prescription. She still hopes to order the medicine from the Blue Spheres Pharmacy. But the pharmacist is my friend! I have always condescended to him... So much the worse! For me, in any case."

"...I'm confused," he thought, an hour later, growing more chilled and frightened. "I am in danger. But here's what I must do first: try to think of something other than myself. That'll help."

He always had trouble thinking of things other than himself, and mostly, it was boring. But nevertheless he thought:

"No, the Healer-Pharmacist will not dare make the prescription without my permission. He knows full well that I am in charge of miracles until July first. And the painter will die."

Grinning, the Great Envier rubbed his long pale hands together.

"Yes, but they will carry him to the Palace of Elegant Arts. An orchestral band will play a funeral march above his coffin, and not an hour or two, but the whole day, maybe even into the next. The most respected people in town," he thought desperately, feeling envy awaken in his heart, "will keep watch by the coffin, in his honor."

This was the perfect moment for him to put on his belt, and the Great Envier reached out his hand, since he remembered hanging it on his bed board. The belt was missing. He searched through his closet -- did he forget the belt in his old pair of pants? -- turned out his pockets, searched the writing desk. He woke up his daughter and immediately regretted it, as she burst into tears as soon as she opened her eyes. He put his long pale arm down the garbage chute, and the arm started reaching downwards -- down to the eighth, seventh, sixth, fifth floor. To no avail! Pursing his lips into a long frightful grimace, muttering "Even so, my dears! Even so? Very well then!", he returned to his bedroom.

<< Chapter 1 | < Chapter 9

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 9

2009-06-22T15:10:52Z

Chapter 9. The Great Envier Dreams Good Dreams For The First Time In His Life

He was still whistling, like a departing train, while the dreams lined up and crowded around: "I'm first! No, me! Excuse me, comrades, this long dream here can vouch that I'm really the first in line."

And these were not long and boring, but wonderful light dreams which came to him for the first time in his life! The boy on whom the Great Envier stepped last year showed up, rosy cheeked and laughing, and told him that it didn't hurt at all. The girl who he turned into the Old Horse kept trying to squeeze into the elevator until finally, clip-clopping her hoofs, she climbed up to the ninth floor -- all in order to thank him: ever since he turned her into a horse (so she neighed to him, putting a leg to her heart), a real proper life had begun for her. The ladybug which he killed kept flying around him and singing, "I deserved it, tra-la-la!", and when he asked her in his dream, "Why?", she answered, "Because, I shouldn't have tried to play dead."

Yes, a good dream is the best thing in the world, but there is nothing worse than to wake up from it to the sound of a crying child. Yet this is exactly what happened. Somebody was crying loudly in the next room. Could it be the fat boy, with his nose in a book?

The Great Envier lept from his bed, threw on a robe, and swung open the door... It was Lora crying. She was sitting on the floor among scattered books; she had a long magpie feather in her hand, and she was crying so loudly that the Great Envier's heart clenched, so much did he love his daughter.

"What happened?", he shouted, horrified.

"He's.. he's..."

"Whew! You scared me. He's dead?"

"No, he's gone."

"Gone? That's wonderful..." began the Great Envier, but no sooner did he say "won..." when he jumped, as Lora painfully pinched him on the ankle. "Ow! Why are you crying, my poor dear child? Do you regret that I didn't have time to turn him into a bat?"

Instead of answering, Lora flopped down on the floor, right into a small puddle which her tears made, and started to stomp her feet.

"I want, I want, I want," she cried, "I want him to come back!"

She stomped her clumsy little feet so hard, that the tenants on the eighth floor came up to the ninth, to respectfully inquire whether they should complain to the building manager.

"He'll be back, I promise you! I give you my honest honorable word."

"I don't believe you!" cried Lora. "You are neither honest nor honorable. You told me yourself, not to believe anyone."

"But in this very instance, you can!" yelled the Great Envier desperately. "Do not forget, that I am your father! Calm down, I beg you. Where did you get this feather?"

"Aaah! I want him to sit in this armchair and to read. I want him to mumble 'Mmmm?', and to peer at me... aaaah.. with one eye!"

"All right, all right, he will return, and will say 'Mmmm?', devil take him! And he'll peer at you with one eye."

Chilled, he took the feather from Lora. It was a magpie feather, and a magpie feather could only have been dropped by none other than a Magpie.

<< Chapter 1 | < Chapter 8

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 8

2009-06-19T11:42:18Z

Chapter 8. Tanya and Petya Look For The Belt And Fail

During the day, the Great Envier fought with his daughter: he kept wanting to turn Petya into a bat, and she protested. During the day, Lora kept coming by to show how deftly she placed her feet now when she stepped, how elegantly she crossed them when she sat. But at night, Petya was by his lonesome, with the exception of the old father-Thrush.

Nobody would get in the way, he could read and read. Some of the books he leafed through were cold, as if covered by a thin crust of ice. But others... Others, he couldn't tear himself away from!

Once -- this was on that very night when the Great Envier went off to the Blue Spheres Pharmacy -- Petya noticed that he had become thinner. Nobody would call him a fat boy now! He liked this. The only bad thing was, his pants kept sliding down. He looked for a rope, but couldn't find one. But here was a belt, hanging on the back of the Great Envier's bed. Not thinking much of it, Petya took it and put it on, and went back to his book.

Lora was snoring sweetly in her room -- the day wore her out, what with memorizing the lessons in politeness and good manners; the thuggish looking cat dashed noisily across the kitchen, having caught a mouse, and all fell silent, not a sound anywhere. Only a page would rustle -- and now it's read, good bye!

Suddenly, somebody knocked at the window. Petya peered at it with one eye. Nothing special, a Magpie. So he turned a page. But the knocking came again.

"Open it."

"Hmm... Strange. A Magpie talking with a human voice. Well, better not to wonder, in this house."

"Open it, you hear? Right this minute."

Petya opened the window lazily, and hurled an empty ink jar at the Magpie -- missed, too bad!

"Oh, nice one," said Tanya reproachfully, flying into the room. "Won't let me in, and throws things on top of that. Just you wait, you'll get yours, you silly boy."

Perhaps I won't tell you about their squabbling. Petya kept saying, "But you...", "But you...", and it kept turning out that it was Tanya's own fault, that she got turned into a Magpie. Finally, they decided to look for the belt. Of course, Petya forgot that but an hour ago, he used it to hold up his pants, since this happened inbetween two pages, each more interesting than the other! And it was hard to imagine, anyway, that the Great Envier would wear such an old belt. His belt, it seemed to them, must consist out of steel rings, thin like cobweb.

They searched for a long time. To no avail! However, in the writing desk, Tanya found the prescription from Dr. Ball, and carefully hid it under her wing.

They kept looking all the while the Great Envier, yawning, walked home from the Blue Spheres Pharmacy. He dozed off in the elevator -- that's how strongly the honeysuckle mead affected him. Half asleep, barely moving his feet, he walked into his bedroom, and only then did Petya and Tanya stopped looking for the belt. Half dead from fear, they hid under the bed onto which he crashed after barely pulling off his pants and jacket.

"Karsherakeshak," whispered Tanya.

This meant -- they had to run. And Petya understood her, even though he didn't speak Magpie. But they had to wait, until the Great Envier was sound asleep. And so they sat under the bed, shaking, especially Tanya, since Petya was no longer afraid as before. Finally, they could hear soft whistling -- the Great Envier always whistled softly, before starting to fully snore. They tiptoed out into the front hallway, then onto the stairs -- and tumbled down from the ninth floor! That is, Petya tumbled. Saddened, with loud sighs and a drooping beak, the Magpie descended smoothly after him.

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 7

2009-06-18T11:52:40Z

Chapter 7. The Great Envier Tells About Himself

When the Great Envier had insomnia, he would envy all those who were asleep. He would grind his teeth and think about his neighbors, snoring contentedly under open windows, some on their side, some on their backs. And how can you fall asleep, if you're forced to grind your teeth every so often! He would even envy the night guards, although only those -- night guards for nothing -- who were sleeping at their posts.

All people try to sleep, when they have insomnia. And so the Great Envier tried too. He was a person, after all. He would count to a thousand, he would imagine a slow running river, and elephants walking in single file, heavily moving their feet. Nothing helped! He would open the window and walk around the room for a long time in his robe and slippers, to cool down, so that he could crash into bed and immediately fall asleep. He would manage to cool down, but not to sleep. Perhaps it was because he would start worrying that he was cooling down for too long, and would, god forbid, catch a cold. That evening, he even decided to climb up to the roof with a mesh bag -- maybe he could bag a dream of some sort, since dreams often drift above a city at night. He caught some, and not even one, but four. However, climbing down from the attic, he dropped the bag, and the dreams slowly drifted out of it, thoughtful and vague, like campfire smoke in a damp pine forest.

When you can't sleep, it's better to avoid looking at the clock. The clock, as is well known, sometimes lies. You can't, for example, compare it with a mirror, which always tells the clear truth. And yet, glancing at a clock, one can almost always tell if the morning is far away, or if the evening is close. The morning was far away, and so the Great Envier decided to visit the Blue Spheres Pharmacy.

"Excuse me," he said, knocking on the window, beyond which he could see a small figure in a white robe. "Beg pardon, it is me. How are you, old man? You can't sleep too?"

He had the impression, that in order for your underlings to love you, you had to tell them things like, "How goes it, old man?" or, "How are things, old dog?"

"Hello there. One moment, I'm coming," answered the Healer-Pharmacist. "It's him!" he quickly whispered to the Magpie. "You have to hide, Tanya. Go in here!"

Beyond the pharmacy store was a small room, in which he mixed the preparations.

"Come in, please."

He turned on all the lights, and the porcelain squirrels, hiding among the bottles on the shelves, began to rub their eyes with sleepy paws: they decided that morning had arrived.

"Sorry it's so late, old man," said the Great Envier, entering. "I can't seem to sleep, damn it. I figured I'd come and see how things are going here, and maybe pick up some mixture or other, to help me sleep. Do you have anything new, old friend?"

"Hmmm... New? Let me think."

The Great Envier lowered himself into an armchair wearily. Perhaps he didn't even look like a Great Envier at just that moment. He kept sighing, and his left nostril did not flare like always, but drooped sadly.

"Hey, you're pretty good, I see," he said, looking at the Healer-Pharmacist, who, after clambering smartly up a ladder, stuck his long nose first into one and then another bottle. "I wonder, do you know what boredom is?"

"A pharmacist needs a good nose," the Healer-Pharmacist answered, mishearing.

"I said 'Boredom'".

"Boredom? No, he doesn't need boredom. A good nose, and good hands."

"I'm bored to death, you deaf old coot," said the Great Envier. "Everybody lies to me and, save for my daughter, nobody loves me. And don't you think I want somebody to love me, huh? (During sincere moments, he liked to be informal with his underlings). Of course I do, because if one thinks about it, I'm not a bad man at all."

The Healer-Pharmacist was silent. He was busy -- measuring poppy seed extract, and mixing it with honeysuckle mead.

"Do you think I so deeply want this paint-smearer to die?" continued the Great Envier (that's how he called Tanya's father). "Not at all! No matter what, he will never again be able to dive. And as for his miracles, to tell you the truth, I cannot agree. I saw his paintings. They're nothing special: canvas, frame, paints."

The Healer-Pharmacist was silent. He was stirring the mixture with a glass rod, and was trying not to slip in any rat poison.

"You can say anything you want about me." continued the Great Envier. "That I'm simple minded, undemanding, patient, that I'm easily fooled. Just the other day, for example, a ladybug tried to play dead, so that I wouldn't kill it. And I believed it! Believed it, like a child. And only afterwards I caught on to its game, and killed it. I have many shortcomings, but nobody ever would dare to call me envious."

"That's right, wouldn't dare," thought the Healer-Pharmacist.

"It's ready," he said aloud. "Take this, and I guarantee that in a half hour you'll be sound asleep."

Perhaps the most important thing happened at this very minute. The Great Envier stood up and hiked up his pants -- he forgot his belt at home. Of course, he tried to do this as surreptitiously as he could -- it's embarrassing to hike up your pants in front of your employees. But the Healer-Pharmacist had a very sharp eye, and, muttering "Excuse me, please," he hurried into the back room.

"Tanya," he whispered, moving only his lips.

The Magpie, having hidden in a dark corner, stirred.

"Fly to his place. He forgot his belt at home. Do you remember the address?"

"Yes."

The Healer-Pharmacist swung the window open.

"I will try to delay him. Bring me the belt. Forget that you are a girl. You -- are a Thieving Magpie."

[Fairy Tales] Many Good People And One Envier, Chapter 6

2009-06-17T13:01:07Z

by V.A. Kaverin, translated by me.

Chapter 6. The Lover Of Extraordinary Stories Tells Lora A Fairy Tale About Little Red Riding Hood, Which She Memorizes Word For Word

Meanwhile, Petya kept reading. When somebody called him, he would only say "Mmm?..", and kept on reading -- line after line, page after page. He finished one full collection, and started on another one. One could hope that he would at least summarize for the Great Envier the books on the shelves with such festive and bright bindings. But he wouldn't summarize. And not because he couldn't, but just didn't want to. He even tried it once, but the Great Envier rubbed his long pale hands with such glee every time some misfortune happened to even a fictional person, that Petya gave up summarizing, and now simply kept reading.

From time to time, the Old Thrush, peering at him maliciously, shouted:
"Shnerr dix, tex trrenk!"

This meant: "I am the Minister Of Yard and Stables! Away with this boy at once!"

Then, Petya would throw a blanket over the cage, and the Thrush would sleep, thinking that night had fallen.

All in all, Petya would have read himself silly, if it wasn't for Lora, who would keep coming by to chat with him.

"By the way, Father would have long ago wanted to eat you," she said one day, "but I did not let him."

"Why?"

"Just because. I find it funny, how you sit here and read."

Twice a week, she would take lessons from the Fairy Of Politeness And Exactness, and upon returning, would show Petya how she learned to walk -- not sideways, but straight and light, like a snow princess, and not heavy like a bear. But Petya would only mumble, "Mmmm?", and kept on reading.

To lose weight, Lora started eating four times a day instead of five, and would only nap for an hour and twenty minutes after dinner, instead of two hours. Although, she did not lose much, in truth. But Petya did not pay her any attention, just the same. She put on a necklace, and would keep playing with it as she spoke. But not even once did Petya notice this pretty necklace with colored glass beads!

The only thing that remained to do was to tell him something even more interesting than these thick books, from which he could not tear himself. And so she set off to find the Lover Of Extraordinary Stories.

This was an old clown, who carved tobacco pipes from grape vine roots -- quite excellent ones, even if he sometimes forgot to make holes for the smoke. But the stories which he told were not merely good, but extraordinary, and it was a great pity that nobody wanted to listen to them. As soon as he opened his mouth, his wife would say, "Ohh no, don't you start again!" His kids -- he had grown up kids, even respectably old kids -- would start to yawn, and guests only visited him on the condition that they would talk instead of him, and even then about most ordinary things: "Marya Ivanovna had a son, when she really expected a daughter," or, "Pyotr Ilyich will now make eighty rubles and forty kopeks a month, instead of just eighty rubles".

"Ahaa, old man," they would say triumphantly, when leaving, "today you did not manage to tell even one extraordinary story."

Everyone was sick of his stories, which is why he was so glad, when Lora came to him.

She walked in, a little sideways, but almost straight, and if not as lightly as a snow princess, then at least not as heavily as a bear. She greeted him politely, and said:

"Could you please tell me an interesting fairy tale? I will memorize it word for word, as I have an excellent memory."

"Good god," said the Lover Of Extraordinary Stories, laying aside a pipe which he just started, "As many as you like! A sad one, or a happy one?"

"A happy one."

"Excellent."

And so he told her the fairy tale about Little Red Riding Hood. You do know this tale, right, kids? Perhaps it is not so happy, especially when the wolf swallows up Grandma, puts on her bonnet, which does not suit him at all, and lays in bed to wait for Little Red Riding Hood with her pastries. But at least it all ends well. Which is the most important thing, especially when things begin badly.

Lora memorized it word for word, as she had an excellent memory. But for some reason, she remembered the words backwards. So, for example, instead of "There once was a little girl called Little Red Riding Hood," she would say "Hood Riding Red, called a girl little, was once there." So you could understand why Petya, after listening to her for five minutes, laughed and said:

"That's funny, you do that well."

And went back to reading. Now, when Lora came to him, he would look up lazily, keeping one eye on her, and kept reading, line after line, page after page. And sometimes, he would draw little devils in the margins, with crooked tails like question marks.

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