now I’m forced to work part-time as your assistant, watching you raise monsters!
– I will not allow my first universe to be destroyed! I will escape from Eden, and hide my people away from the eyes of any of the titans.
Before Il had time to come to his senses, Derek disappeared into the infinity of space.
Septon Iris-1 appeared in the office.
– Septon, if you had appeared a couple of moments ago, you could have captured this upstart! But it’s not too late to catch up with him!
– Let him run away. We won’t chase him.
– But Master Septon! He stole the universe!
¬– Il Zamar-8. Remember who you’re talking to!
– Sorry, Master!
– Or, demiurges as talented as Derek have not been born in the last few dozen cycles. The last one equal to him in talent was me. When I caused trouble in my own universe, I also expected my pets to be expelled and destroyed. I also had a good friend. He then handed me over to his mentor, and for a century now he has been trying to prove that his inferno universe is better than my creation. Every Creator in history had such a friend.
By the way, your father is also one of my offspring.
It seems to you that Derek made a mistake, did not work according to the instructions, created something wrong. But he created love, and this cannot be a mistake.
***
Eli also escaped from Eden. He continued to do all sorts of intrigues in the world created by Derek. But reality moderators constantly correct his mischief. Immortals have their own quirks, what else can they do out of boredom? And moderators must always be on their guard.
Have you ever had such cases? Put the comb on the table. He turned away and was still not there. Turn the mug over so that the moderators receive a notification about the error and fix it immediately.
Almost grown up, almost perfect
A long corridor that smelled of cutlets. Three large windows, dispelling the twilight even in cloudy winter. Under the poster, on the beige flowered wallpaper, in clumsy block letters it says: «I love Lenka.»
The kids rushed noisily along the corridor, pushing each other. Jumpers, notebooks, and sometimes briefcases were scattered. Vasya finished the bun, and crumbs fell onto the floor. Isolde Viktorovna barely had to appear from the back office before almost deathly silence reigned. The children, not yet hearing what they would be accused of, but already realizing the severity of the guilt, lowered their heads and stood near the windowsills. The history teacher, who was also the deputy director for educational work, was strict, but fair, and always defended the tomboys if conflicts went beyond the boundaries of school. Everyone was afraid of her, but they loved her.
– What’s the matter? – Isolda Viktorovna asked without raising her voice, but in the silence that reigned she sounded louder than using a megaphone. – Should I repeat the question? Have you decided to play the silent game now? Sementsov?
– He called me names! You know how unpleasant it is! – the boy almost jumped out of his seat, was already preparing his fists, but stopped under the menacing gaze of the teacher.
– And he ate my cake! Without permission! Glutton!
– So you wouldn’t eat anyway! He left it on the table and left the dining room.
– I didn’t leave, I just carried the plate. You’re the one who always leaves dirty dishes on the table and doesn’t clean up after yourself. And my parents taught me culture, unlike some.
– Let’s go to my office, write explanatory notes!
The guys sighed, but there was nothing to do: they trudged, heads down, towards the «torture room,» as the office at the end of the corridor was jokingly called.
Every fifth grade is a threat to the school. The tomboys escaped from under the warm wing of their cool mother, under whose watchful gaze they made hooks and sticks in one lesson, and in the next lesson they learned to add numbers in a column. Now it’s every man for himself, no one reminds you about the need to hand in a test book or any other debts. So they rush through the corridors in order to somehow smooth out the dissonance between ending childhood and forced adulthood.
There was an uncertain knock on the method room.
«Come in, Violetta Stepanovna,» said Isolda Viktorovna, pointing the short teacher to a chair. The guilty boys stood with their heads down. The room is cool.
– I’ll wait. After the antics of the fifth grade, I really didn’t want to sit. Do you know what they did? The button was planted. On a chair. To me! Honored Teacher of the Year! And this is for all the work, for the soul that I completely invested in raising… and in the end I raised these!
An awkward silence reigned. The boys seemed to lower their heads even lower. A moment, and, like ostriches, they will bury themselves in the sand. By the way, Violetta Stepanovna really has been giving all her best at work for the last twenty-five odd years. Personal life did not work out. She was a good person, her students loved her, but her own children at home did not extend their hands and did not smile joyfully. It’s all the more offensive to accept that children are imperfect. These sprouts will bear fruit after many years. And today they can be as bitter as green apricots. Even unripe fruits can make your stomach ache.
– What kind of young people went? We spent our childhood on the street and were family friends. And after the invention of this «virtuality» of theirs, they buried themselves in Technopolis; the modulator chip cannot be pulled out of the back of their heads. This is where aggression comes from! When I was in sixth grade, I just thought about taking my mobile phone out of my pocket when I immediately got hit on my fingers with a pointer. And I always remembered that devices have no place in the classroom. And the thought would not arise to cause trouble for teachers.
Kindness is not at all what they need. Sometimes you feel, when entering a classroom, that you are in a cage with tigers who are directing their hungry gaze at you. If you turn away, miss something from your attention, they will immediately bite you, and at the most unexpected moment. But when they feel strong, they can be led on any adventures. I’m not sure that they will remember you in a couple of years, but these smiling «robbers» will remain a part of your life forever, and they will often be missed. Probably many of them perceive kindness as a sign of weakness?
– Sorry. Violetta Stepanovna! – crocodile tears flowed down Vasya Pukhlin’s cheeks.
«You shouldn’t be so categorical,» Isolda Viktorovna looked at her colleague over her glasses. – Ordinary youth. No worse and no better than us. They live in a different time, with different technical capabilities, but people are always the same.
Technological progress has touched every corner of the universe. Skyscrapers have mushroomed, even in small cities. But the school, built in the sixties of the last century, remained the same school. Every five years, major renovations are done here. But the light bulbs do not light up everywhere: only where they were purchased by parents or responsible teachers, since the state budget has no time for such small everyday problems, they think globally. During recess, most children are immersed in virtuality, and Technopolis, a network «city» of extended reality, is used in lessons. But if you face the truth, even before the invention of computers, not everyone carried out changes in libraries – pranks are always more interesting.
Many schools are the same, with minor differences. A light rain was falling. The wind pierced to the bones, but in March the hope for quick warmth and greenery did not fade. Eternal summer is not bad at all. But remember the sunny countries of Africa – would you like to live like this – in endless stuffiness, where there is no escape from mosquitoes and numerous diseases? Spring is twice beautiful after prolonged frosts and snows. And the light rain, even though it contained snow that