Three Stars. FAIRY TALES FOR CHILDREN AND YOUTH. Elena Speranskaya

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      Brussels sprouts, cucumbers, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, apples, plums and pears grew exclusively under glass caps in specially constructed greenhouses. Other names of fruits and vegetables were weathered from dictionaries, everyday speech, no longer emerging from anyone in the memory or on the surface of shelving than they all used as furniture.

      The elaborate products of the XXII century of a proud digital civilization have gone into the distant past, leaving behind piles of plastic utensils, dilapidated concrete skyscrapers, smart phones, canned, unfinished greenhouses with no heating and watering, abandoned after several explosions of factories; overcrowded seaside beaches, piled up with tourists’ waste, and a large number of wearily wandering around, unemployed clones, whose place of residence were the same waste cemeteries, rusty, submarines abandoned in countless numbers in any accessible place.

      The metal was considered the lowest-grade building material, suitable only for sale in suburban areas for the exchange of graphite and cellulose, in order to adapt the sprouts grown in the upper ground for transplanting into the area difficult for clones. Confucianism finally took precedence over visible other religions. Flourishing, destroying all the Gentiles, the world turned into a latrine for blasphemous evidence of the former digital civilizations, which had long gone to self-destruction thanks to the efforts of terrorists and criminals who managed in a relatively short period of about two centuries, which for the entire development of the planet was a trifle, – incur the curse of descendants.

      “The wired system is deteriorating,” said Gabriel, when he examined the entire electric car, a signal came in that he could leave the duty officer to let the car through to the access zone.

      “Is it dangerous?”

      “We need to meet again after a general test,” he immediately scheduled her business meeting, trusting the roller robot as he did himself.

      “Yes, you already told me about this,” she replied abruptly, suddenly losing her patience, not hoping to get into the theater troupe in the next half hour. “How much can you remind of the same thing,” she said in a melodious voice, like every opera diva who considered her personal duty to lead the process in any situation.

      “Is it? I didn’t notice something,” he parried in embarrassment, soaring in the clouds.

      “We need to work better, and not run girls at night,” said the princess, unceremoniously, suspecting him of all mortal sins.

      “We’re not going to joke,” the attendant warned, approaching so closely that Regina had the feeling that he was keeping back on something.

      “We will meet in orbit necessarily, if you are not listed as anything reprehensible, for example, military participation in criminal squabbles on the Eurasian continent or in Latin America. We can communicate telepathically.”

      “Great idea!”

      “Remember that you can just call me a princess. I am never late on a date for telepathic communication,” Regina was as talkative as all the enthusiastic girls of her age who had completed dramatic courses with excellent characterization. They were able to participate in all the historical films made to capture themselves and the course of development of the present transferred to the distant future, as Durer, Rembrandt, Raphael and other painters, representatives of the Renaissance did.

      “Such a suit like you was popular among Jews in the last century. You dug up this stuff somewhere in the ruins of Turkish caves where the last tourists dumped their bags,” he said with a tinge of envy and malice, affecting the most painful theme for her appearance, since she didn’t meet the requirements of the fairy-tale princess.

      “What do you dislike about my appearance?” she asked, looking at his rubber, like a diver, a black suit with two yellow stripes on the sides and shoulder straps.

      “Reggie,” he immediately switched to a familiar tone.

      “What is the lieutenant?”

      “You remind me of Princess Diana, who died in a car accident, somewhere around the turn of the twentieth and twenty-first century.”

      “What is so old?”

      She leaned on the bumper of a six-door electric car of a cylindrical shape, of lilac color, with a transparent top.

      “I think you come from Trinidad and Tobago…” he turned on the power supply, looking at what the speedometer was showing. “I’m right?”

      “If you like, you can assume that so. My ancestors СКАЧАТЬ