A Mysterious Incident (story about a story). Emergency (story)

Rostov arrived in Tilsit on a day least convenient for interceding for Denisov. He himself could not go to the general on duty, since he was in a tailcoat and arrived in Tilsit without the permission of his superiors, and Boris, even if he wanted, could not do this the next day after Rostov’s arrival. On this day, June 27, the first peace terms were signed. The emperors exchanged orders: Alexander received the Legion of Honor, and Napoleon Andrei 1st degree, and on this day a lunch was assigned to the Preobrazhensky battalion, which was given to him by the battalion of the French Guard. The sovereigns were supposed to attend this banquet.
Rostov felt so awkward and unpleasant with Boris that when Boris looked at him after dinner, he pretended to be asleep and early the next morning, trying not to see him, he left the house. In a tailcoat and a round hat, Nikolai wandered around the city, looking at the French and their uniforms, looking at the streets and houses where the Russian and french emperors. In the square he saw tables being set up and preparations for dinner; on the streets he saw hanging draperies with banners of Russian and French colors and huge monograms of A. and N. There were also banners and monograms in the windows of the houses.
“Boris doesn’t want to help me, and I don’t want to turn to him. This matter is decided - Nikolai thought - everything is over between us, but I will not leave here without doing everything I can for Denisov and, most importantly, without delivering the letter to the sovereign. Emperor?!... He’s here!” thought Rostov, involuntarily approaching again the house occupied by Alexander.

Of course, what can we talk about - we desperately need children.

The state cannot exist so smoothly without them. They are our replacement. We rely on them and base our calculations on them.

Moreover, adults cannot give up their bourgeois habits so easily. And the kids, maybe, will grow up and definitely even out our lack of culture.

So in this regard, we must carry children directly in our arms and blow off the dust from them and blow their noses. Regardless of whether it is our child or someone else’s child and a stranger to us.

But this is just not enough observed in our lives.

We remember one rather original event that unfolded before our eyes on the train, before reaching Novorossiysk.

Almost all of those who were in this carriage were going to Novorossiysk.

And, by the way, she’s riding in this carriage, among others, such a little girl. Such a young woman with a child.

She has a child in her arms. So she goes with him.

She goes with him to Novorossiysk. Her husband, perhaps, works there at the factory. So she goes to him.

And so she goes to her husband. Everything is as it should be: she has a baby in her arms, a bundle and a basket on the bench. And so she goes in this form to Novorossiysk.

She is going to see her husband in Novorossiysk. And the little one in her arms is very loud. And he screams and screams, just like a catechumen. He seems to be ill. As it turned out, a stomach illness overtook him on the way. Either he ate raw food or drank something, but he got sick on the way. So he yells.

In a word - baby. He doesn’t understand what’s what and why his stomach is suffering. How old is he? He is maybe three years old or two years old. Without watching children in privacy, it is difficult to determine how old this item is.

Only he, apparently, is an October boy. He has this red bib tied around him.

And now this little one is traveling with her mother to Novorossiysk. They are going, of course, to Novorossiysk, and as luck would have it, he gets sick on the way.

And due to his illness, he blathers every minute, gets sick and demands attention. And, of course, he doesn’t give his mother any rest or time. She doesn't let go of him for two days. And he can't sleep. And he can’t drink tea.

And then, in front of the Lichny station, she, of course, addresses the passengers: “I am very sorry,” she says, “look after my baby.” I’ll run to the Lichny station, at least I’ll eat some soup. “My tongue,” he says, “sticks to my throat.” “I,” he says, “well, I just don’t foresee the end.” “I,” he says, “are going to Novorossiysk before my husband.”

Passengers, of course, try not to look where this is coming from, they turn away, they say, something else is yelling and blathering, or even bother with it! They also think he’ll throw it in. It depends on what kind of mother she is. Another mother will decide to do this very freely.

And although this did not happen later and the loving mother remained with her child, the passengers did not know this entire further situation and, because of this, reacted to the request with restraint - in a word, they refused.

And that means they won’t take it.

And, by the way, there is only one such citizen riding in the carriage. He is apparently a city dweller. In a cap and in such an international rubberized mackintosh. And, of course, in sandals. He addresses the audience like this: “That is,” he says, “I’m sick of looking at you.” That is, - he says, - what kind of people you are - I’m just amazed! It is impossible, he says, citizens, to have such an overly indifferent approach. Maybe before our eyes the mother finds it difficult to eat, her little one is too constrained, but here everyone turns his face away from these social affairs. This, well, directly leads to the rejection of socialism.

Others say: - Look after the baby! What a tramp he was - to make advanced speeches in a sleeping car! He says: “And although I am a single person, and I want to sleep like hell, and in general it’s not my business to take on this very thing, in extreme cases, I don’t have such insensibility in the matter of children.”

And he takes the little one in his arms, rocks him and amuses him with his finger.

Of course, the young woman thanks him very warmly and gets off at the Lichny station.

She goes to this station to the buffet and doesn’t show up for a long time. The train stops for ten minutes. These ten minutes pass, and the signal is already given. And the duty officer waves his red cap. But she’s not there.

And the train is already jerking, and the train is running along the rails, but the young mother is not there.

Here various scenes take place in the carriage. Those who openly laugh, who grab the brakes and want to stop the train.

And he, who is wearing sandals, sits pale, like a son of a bitch, and doesn’t want to sleep anymore. And he doesn’t want to make any more speeches.

He holds the baby on his lap and listens to various advice.

Well, one, of course, advises giving a telegram for your money, others, on the contrary, say: “Take it to Novorossiysk and hand it over to the GPU. And if they don’t accept the baby there, then adopt as a last resort.”

Meanwhile, the little one blathers, gets sick, and doesn’t get away with anything.

And then a desperate two hours pass, and the train, of course, stops at a large station. Who, in sandals, takes his little one by the feet and wants to go to the platform at the GPU. Only suddenly a young mother rolls into the carriage. She enters the carriage and defends herself like this: “I,” she says, “I’m sorry!” As soon as I ate hot soup, I immediately felt tired, and I deliberately went into the next carriage and fell asleep there for a little while. “I haven’t slept for two days,” he says. And if I had entered this carriage, I would hardly have gotten any sleep. .

And she takes her baby and nurses him again.

The one in sandals says: “You are acting rather carelessly, citizen!” But since you slept, then I am in your position. Children are our shift, I don’t mind looking after them.

Here in the carriage there is cheerful laughter, which gives a healthy exercise. And everything ends for the general welfare: 1931

Story

"Emergency"- one of the earliest fantasy stories A. and B. Strugatsky. Precedes the World of Noon cycle.

• 1 Plot
• 2 Issues
• 3 Publications
• 4 Interesting facts
• 5 Notes
• 6 Links

Plot

Expedition to spaceship returns to Earth from Titan, Saturn's moon.

On board the ship's captain Stankevich, pilot Tummer, navigator Viktor Borisovich (last name not mentioned), flight engineer Lidin and biologist Malyshev. The flight looks pretty routine. However, on approaching Mars, the navigator (on whose behalf the story is told) discovers a fly, but not an ordinary one, but an unearthly one. These are spores of non-protein life that accidentally fell inside the ship.

The “flies” begin to multiply rapidly, and soon the ship, and behind it the Earth, are under threat of infection. The captain, with the help of the crew, discovers a way out of the critical situation.

Issues

The plot is written in a deliberately ordinary manner, without any “frills”. There are practically no deviations woven into the fabric of the story storylines, memories, reminiscences, etc.

With space, everything is also simple - there is no null transportation, the action takes place within solar system, at sub-light speeds. No technical details are given. At the same time (there are still two years before human flight!) many technical details have been predicted (the ship's reactor, spacesuits, compartments, etc.).

There is, in fact, only one scientific premise - the presence of life in space, and not protein. Before this, non-protein life was mentioned in the story “The Country of Crimson Clouds.” In other works of the Strugatskys, life, as a rule, is intelligent, the inhabitants of the planets are biologically close (golovans) or even hardly distinguishable from people (Leonidians). In many of the Strugatskys’ works, the appearance of the alien race remains unknown (“From the Outside,” Wanderers). In this case, the description of the “flies” is very naturalistic.

However, the authors removed from the text everything that could distract the reader from the main idea - human responsibility for the fate of the planet. Did the biologist do the right thing by hiding the “fly” samples from destruction? What will happen to the samples next? This problem is raised again, on a different artistic level, in the novel “The Beetle in the Anthill.”

What would happen if a way out was not found? Should the crew sacrifice themselves and not bring the infection to Earth? For the authors, the answers seem to be clear, but they still leave these questions for the reader.

Publications

Published as a separate edition. Published in Polish in 1970.

The Lomonosov crater mentioned in the story exists on Mars, and was soon discovered on the far side of the Moon and in 1961, that is, a year after the publication of the story, was named in honor of M.V. Lomonosov.

Notes

1. Strugatsky Arkady, Strugatsky Boris. The Path to Amalthea: Science Fiction. story and stories. - M.: Mol. Guard, 1960. - p. 124-142. - (Fiction. Adventure. Travel).
2. Strugatsky Arkady, Strugatsky Boris. From outside. - M.: AST; Astrel; St. Petersburg: Terra Fantastica, 2011. - p. 164-188. ISBN 978-5-17-058763-6; ISBN 978-5-271-38429-5; ISBN 978-5-7921-0793-9.
3. Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Emergency. M.: Prospekt, 2012. ISBN 9785392043774; 2012
4. Lomonosov on Moon

Links

• A story as part of the electronic Complete Works of the Strugatskys
• Story page on the Laboratory of Fiction website

Emergency incident (story) Information About

The main characters of Mikhail Zoshchenko’s story “A Mysterious Incident” are switchman Frolov, who lives in Ligovo, his nephew Minka and two criminal investigation investigators. The switchman had a bag of flour and decided to exchange it for a goat so he could drink milk.

The switchman placed the goat in a shed, which was locked. But one morning Frolov discovered that the lock was broken and his purebred goat had disappeared. Then he went to Leningrad and turned to the criminal investigation department.

Two investigators went with him to the scene. One of them, whom his work colleagues called Uncle Volodya, upon arrival at the scene began to look for traces of the criminals. Uncle Volodya concluded that there were several criminals, including a child.

When he said this, a child's cry was heard from the crowd of curious people gathered in the courtyard. Minka, the nephew of the switchman Frolov, was crying. He said that in the morning he went into the barn to treat the goat to cabbage. However, he did not touch the lock, and the door to the barn was open.

Having learned that the goat was there in the morning, the second investigator, on whose behalf the story was being told, suggested that the thief had stolen something else. But in this case it was not clear where the goat went?

Investigators began to put forward the most different versions happened, and at that moment everyone present heard a goat bleating, and the sound was coming from somewhere above. It turned out that the goat somehow climbed onto the roof of the house in which the switchman Frolov lived with his wife. The switchman explained that behind his house there were boards for construction. The goat climbed along them onto the roof overgrown with grass. This goat was from a breed of mountain goats that can climb steep slopes.

The incident was settled, and the investigators prepared to return to Leningrad. Already on the street, Frolov caught up with them and reported that old felt boots had disappeared from the barn.

The full picture of the mysterious incident became clear only in the winter, when the switchman saw the felt boots missing from the barn on one of the passers-by. This man turned out to be the thief who broke the lock. He came to steal a bag of flour, but did not know that the switchman had already exchanged the flour for a goat. Out of frustration, the thief grabbed old felt boots and ran away.

The goat remained to live with the switchman Frolov. She surprised everyone local residents the ability to climb the steepest boards.

That's how it is summary story.

The main idea of ​​Zoshchenko’s story “A Mysterious Incident” is that before attracting other people to search for the loss, you should carefully look for it yourself, including in the most unexpected places. Switchman Frolov, having discovered the loss of the goat, immediately went to Leningrad to report the theft. Meanwhile, all he had to do was raise his head and see that the goat had climbed onto the roof.

The story teaches you to be careful and not make hasty conclusions in an extreme situation.

In the story, I liked the investigator, Uncle Volodya, who was well versed in the tracks and determined that a child had been in the barn.

What proverbs fit Zoshchenko’s story “The Mysterious Incident”?

It's like a cow licked it with its tongue.
I didn’t even notice the elephant.
No matter how much a thief steals, there will be retribution.

This is a story about a "story". Moreover, it is not a fiction, but a story about a real incident involving one of my actual stories, recently published in the Sunday issue of a famous Parisian newspaper.

The story was called "It Happened". He was a complete invention (which should be remembered); and the content - I will give it briefly below - is not as important as what actually “happened” with this story. This is a curious case, a first in my entire long literary practice; I don’t even remember how many hundreds of stories I’ve written; but this didn’t happen to any of them. As for other fiction authors, we haven’t heard of either; Perhaps if you put together a whole questionnaire, you could find out whether a similar incident has happened to anyone.

But to the point.

Everyone knows how difficult it is, in modern times, for a Russian writer to simply publish something. There are no magazines, newspapers - almost, each has its own permanent employees, who have long adapted or in all respects coincided with the appearance of a given newspaper; a writer simply, as I say, especially an old one, accustomed to a certain freedom in old Russia, must first use his mind: say something, even through the mouth of a hero, that may not seem to completely coincide with the views of the newspaper, and your work is lost. Or there will be several lines more than a certain number of them - the opportunity to make money has also disappeared. So you figure it out in advance so that both the size - according to the conditions - and the content are as harmless as possible. The love plot is, in principle, the most harmless; but even here a lot of attention and a great effort of invention are required - to narrow it down to obvious harmlessness.

The story “It Happened” was successful, that is, it appeared in the newspaper. Made up, as already said, entirely. First names, patronymics, last names, names of St. Petersburg streets - all this was taken by chance, ordinary names, invented last names. The content is this: someone says that one day, at dusk, they called him. (The story takes place in St. Petersburg, in the fall, a year before the war.) The narrator does not recognize the lady who entered, but she is recommended: “I am Olga Petrovna...” and he remembers that he met, in a familiar family, on Vasilievsky Island, who - an inconspicuous, not very beautiful and not very young girl, Olga Petrovna, with whom he, however, never said a word. Surprised by the visit, he leads her into the office, lights the lamp, and, at the first glance at the visitor, is horrified: her pale face, with black, “matte” eyes, is completely dead. In the same dead voice, she says that she came in by chance, passing by, and probably because “half an hour before her death, she needs to tell “someone”, tell everything that now she doesn’t care; and he is exactly that “someone,” because he doesn’t care either.” (I don’t have the text, I’m writing from memory.) Continuing monotonously, she said that she was the bride of such and such a guards officer, loved him, waited for two years, believed when he suddenly wrote that everything was over between them. Having made sure that the break was complete, she felt that she had died; death is already in her, her job is only to “finish” the last thing, for which she was now going - to the Fontanka.

The listener—her “someone”—did not interrupt the story; He had no feelings for this half-familiar woman, but she was a person, and looking at a still living person with a dead face was unbearable. It’s just unbearable for himself, beyond sympathy for the deceived bride: rather, he sympathized with the groom whom she named; he knew him by chance and was surprised that this handsome, brilliant guardsman was the groom of such an unsuitable person. But here there was death: the girl, no matter what she is, maybe stupid, maybe hysterical, is about to throw herself into the Fontanka; he would definitely go, he felt it. And he was inspired. I, he says, didn’t know what I was saying to her, I was talking some nonsense, and I shouted, most importantly, in case she was hysterical: it is necessary to shout at hysterics with rudeness. He shamed her and mocked her. - Yes, what kind of love do you have, naked selfishness! I didn’t get you, so I’ll lay your conscience dead! Carry it to death! Well, and something else, in the same spirit he spoke, shouted... He didn’t hold back, however; If you don’t understand, go, drown, do a favor. Prove your “great” love, although it is supposed to be like that - it’s worth nothing. The only thing he suggested to her was to give herself a certain period of time for greater understanding; let her, after thinking it over, come again, and if she remains with the same decision, the narrator will help her get by, at least without the Fontanka: it’s very disgusting, cold, dramatic. There are other ways. He will not encroach on her freedom of decision...

In the end, we agreed that she would come again. But she didn't come. And then the narrator forgot about her. The war began, a chain of disasters... Not only were half-acquaintances forgotten, but friends also disappeared somewhere, relatives were lost...

And many years passed when the same “someone” met a strange couple in the new quarter of Passy in Paris, on a quiet street. Not very strange, he was used to seeing such old people in Paris slowly walking, holding on to each other. Here “he,” slightly dragging his leg, held on to “her,” the still vigorous, gray-haired old woman. And suddenly the old woman called out to the person passing by by name: “Don’t you recognize? I’m Olga Petrovna.” She could still be recognized: but how could one believe that a haggard, lame and weak old man was a brilliant guardsman, Olga Petrovna’s “great” love? From her lively chatter it became clear that they “have a Russian shop around the corner”; there is a lot of trouble, and “he” helps, only “after all the wounds” he is not so healthy, of course... He gets sick often...

The narrator accompanied them to the shop, vaguely responded to the invitation to “come in” and left the “happy” couple in even more vague thoughts...

That's about it. But this is where the amazing begins.

Through the editorial office of the newspaper where the story appeared, I receive a joyful letter from a lady unknown to me: she has finally found her “cousin Olechka”! I urgently request you to provide the address of the “shop” (the only thing that is “not listed” on my list). There is no doubt that I am writing specifically about Olechka, Olga Petrovna: her appearance, her black “matte” eyes, her passionate love for the famous brilliant guardsman are described with such the slightest detail; it was even mentioned that she was somewhat hysterical... And the streets of St. Petersburg were named exactly the same where Olechkin’s drama took place. It is clear that if I meet my lost cousin in Paris, I will hasten to tell her current address...

In embarrassment, I write to the lady (she lives in the vicinity of Paris) that I don’t know any real Olga Petrovna and that the whole story is made up. It occurs to me: or she won’t believe me - after all, it doesn’t happen that everything matches, right down to first names, patronymics and last names! Or is she not hysterical herself, this lady, did she invent her unprecedented “Olya”?

But the lady writes very intelligently, positively. And she responded just as reasonably to my letter of assurance that it was fictitious. I think she pretended to believe it. Once again dwelling in detail on Olga Petrovna, her family, character, love for this guardsman, etc., she finished that if, they say, everything was just guessed at me, then it was thanks to my “talent.” Very kindly, I understand, but what does talent have to do with it, and what kind of talent, one wonders, can reproduce a story that is not “similar” to reality, but truly accurate, with the exact names, patronymics and surnames of the characters, if the author knew neither the characters nor the story actually? Did you take the first names that came up?

None of reasonable people could not give me an explanation for this little mysterious incident. Some, however, found that the matter was “very simple”... but, alas, these turned out to be believers in telepathy. I have no inclination towards such things, and therefore telepathic explanations do not satisfy me at all. However, even from the point of view of the telepaths themselves, it is not clear why exactly I needed to guess something about the forever unknown Olechka and her fiancé?

But, to tell the truth, there is something unpleasant in this case. Its inexplicability and, most importantly, exclusivity are unpleasant. Has anything like this really happened to anyone who writes or has written stories? There were coincidences, of course, but what kind of “coincidences” are there? But did anyone have these same “mysterious” (and useless) guesses?

I'd like to think that they were. There are so many storytellers in the world! If it happened to one, then it happened to the other. But, unfortunately, I don’t know this.

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