Space: one hundred one story of surrealism. Рим Дик
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Название: Space: one hundred one story of surrealism

Автор: Рим Дик

Издательство: Издательские решения

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isbn: 9785005976208

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СКАЧАТЬ when you visit me, you see my house, its walls, floor, chairs, wallpaper. All this is the effect of an illusion, an effect which has been conveyed to you by the impulses of my brain. Yes. When you enter, you already know where my kitchen is and where the bathroom is, if you have never been to my house. This is because I have sent you information that you may need and have created a floor underneath you so that you can move around. For both of us, there is that world that we can catch with particles of the eyes, perception, feelings. While we both look ahead there may be no house behind us, or maybe there is, because someone from below is currently looking at our house and watching. But in general, those people are also not there until we enter into interaction with them. Confusing, I know, but such is the world. A person can see the shell of the house from below, but never see the whole picture inside. And inside the house a stingray, space or a drunken raccoon can live.

      But in space itself, things are quite different. We are forever falling in all directions, with the entire galaxy. We are a perfectly even circle that spins in place, like a top, but when viewed from above, it will seem that we are standing still. Whether the world is falling or not, it does not depend on us. Somewhere out there, beyond the galaxies, there are other aliens who are alien to see the near, and they create the far, with thoughts and actions. They will never reach our system, but will always be the ones that cause our galaxy to fall. They, trying to look at us, hide us from ourselves. That is, looking at our galaxy, the galaxy disappears from their field of view. It’s like with worms, when you cry, and out of the corner of your eye you see worms swimming in front of you, right in the air, and trying to concentrate on them, they disappear from below, then from above, and sometimes even forever. Try pushing the bearing with a needle, the ball will roll, and the needle will slip, in the wrong place. You will not be able to pierce the ball. How their eyes cannot catch and pierce us, forcing us to fall down all the time. Maybe that’s why they can’t find us, they just don’t see us.

      If you watch the clock strike at the same time every year, you can see a fairy moving the hands of the clock between five and six. And if at this moment you put pressure on them, then the fairies will fly out of them, and the clock will never work again, no matter how many masters watch it. Of course, if watchmakers have pet fairies that they keep in matchboxes, the fairies will only be happy to help. They cannot pass them, no matter how powerful the fairy is. Fairies like to hold the clock hands so they don’t go backwards. They do not like to remember the past, because one tick back, and the fairies will become dumber than one tick ahead. In order not to learn everything all over again, the fairies pump their muscles to maintain the order of time, we keep the clock in check.

      When you get underground, after death, in no case do not laugh at the dead, especially at yourself. The lord of the underworld does not like it when someone rejoices in death and jokes about it. After all, death is his wife. They catch souls with a fishing rod and lock them in baskets to hang on clothespins over the fire. They like to torture them and drink cognac from the blood of a mule and twenty-year-old virgins. Death releases souls, sometimes to hunt them, thrust a spear and quarter them. Remember, if you are told to run out and try to get to the surface, to your friends, then shake your head and punch Death in the eye and you will be caged forever and never released. It is so right, it is better to burn than to burn and be full of holes, it is better to sit forever whole than to consist of mosaics. Once Napoleon made a mistake, punched him in the eye and ran out, decided that he would have time to get out, through the hatch on the roof of Satan’s stagecoach, but no such luck. In one big step, Vladyka took it out and released it through a meat grinder, smeared it on a baguette, put a huge pile of poisonous musk on top, and gave the Cerberus for dinner. Cerberus chewed it, then flushed it down the toilet, from there Napoleon got on the table to the vampire worm, and the vampire worm, having flushed it into his own, got a pedophile rabbit who loved the French for lunch. For seven years, he raped a baguette with minced meat, until children began to grow out of Napoleon and tore open his stomach, eating the insides from the inside. After hatching, the children began to sculpt different types of buildings from Napoleon, beat him against the walls, drown him, stir with acid, fry on a fire and stuff the intestines of dead rats into him to create a stuffed animal. Napoleon then realized that it was better not to try. And when he saw that there was no way out of the hatch at all, and there sits the daughter of Death – he was disappointed that he died. The daughter was even scarier than the mother. She came down exactly one week after that incident to play with the prisoners with dolls. They especially liked to pull out their arms and legs, and put their heads back in place, laugh, and then smear it on the diamond floor with a paver. Spread on cucumber, and throw to be eaten by chickens. They pecked at him for seven hundred years, for they were eyeless. And they completely forgot how to use the mouth. From time to time they went off to read books, develop, but returned. You can’t read without eyes and books. Therefore, the daughter of Death closed the chickens in a cage with Napoleon until they learned to find the Frenchman by the smell of “fear”. And the Lord of Darkness immediately released the children through a meat grinder and made sausages and kupaty, and eats them, roasting them on a fire, drinking coffee out of pity,

      General Pook lives on Jupiter. It was he who created Jupiter with his fart, and hurricanes are still raging there, because he cannot stop.

      And on Mercury there lives a naughty beast, he jumps out of the ground and hits the rover on the ear, and goes down. The rover turns around for two years to see who hit it, and it slams from the other side. So the rover could not stand it, pulled out the cables from itself and hung itself on its hands, tying around its neck supplying power to the motherboard, and died.

      Do you think everything is so good on Saturn? No, of course, what else did they think of me here! There, by the way, right between, porpoises live and experiment on themselves by inserting the hearts of stones. Yes, the stones there are real creatures. Only pigs are stupid. That is how they all killed themselves, because one of the stones contained the swine coronavirus. They became infected from each other and died from lack of air. And then they got up, burst out laughing, and realized that they didn’t breathe any air at all. Relaxed immediately. In addition, in a vacuum, even the blood did not fly out of their body. Why, they didn’t even have blood circulating through their veins. If, once it goes through their veins, they will die, because their hearts are made of stone and will explode from vibration. Therefore, they do not fly to where there is another gravity.

      Only on Earth it was boring to live. Fleas interfered all the time. They bit the head when it was necessary to do something grandiose, for example, once, there was one detail left to complete a twenty-year experiment with a portal to another world, when suddenly a flea flew up, bit a person on the head, and he is a sensitive kind of person – dropped the tool and shorted out all the controls and reset the settings. Twenty years to the cat in the ass!

      That flea was later found, handcuffed and put in jail. His convicts are still kicking him. But if you kick in the wrong place, she will bite off her head, it will itch, that it will be possible to pull out the brain through the skull. That’s how severe itching comes from his bite. One prisoner was even cut off his head and placed in a three-liter jar. Bloch fought and fought, but could not get on his hairy head. And one had the nerves removed. The third one could not stand it at all and bit off the head of a flea himself, the first one beats the one who is not afraid to lose, he thought. Only the flea was armor-piercing. With a wave of his hind legs, he cut it in half. Now this convict walks on a gurney, carrying his soulmate on a leash, on a skateboard.

      In the bathroom of every Neanderthal, a soul snake lives, right in a tiny cave. She swallows them and turns them into blood cells in her body.

      “If you don’t run through your veins, you will die,” the snake said, having once swallowed a man, “they will trample you, smear you on the floor, and you will be stuck here forever.” He ran and ran, cherishing the hope that one day he would break out of the endless circle of the treadmill.

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