Lies of closed eyes. Виктория Олеговна Рогозина

      The lecture turned out to be boring – it could not be a discovery, because rarely was the material given in an exciting way. Such is the usual life of a student – write down what is required and cramming in order to pass the exam in the future. As always, the teacher was not too concerned about our real learning, leaving the main (read, as most) material for independent study. I entered Moscow State University and yes, this is not the Moscow State University that you could just think of, although it was also located in the “non-rubber”, the capital of our vast beloved homeland. Magical State University was famous for constantly trying to compete with the equally famous Lemur Academy, which, alas, got the best of the best, but this competition made no sense – not the level. I had no particular talent. I could not boast of anything at all, except for a foul character and a bunch of bad habits.

      The university and the dormitory were located in one of the Moscow Stalinkas. I liked to get to the roof – an amazing place far away and at the same time close to people. And there was an amazing view from there. Moscow is an eternally sleepless city, a city of lights and parties. I liked to be on the roof and watch how somewhere there, people are bustling about, like ants are scurrying about.

      I moved to the “non-rubber” recently, slightly late for the start of the school year. My small town couldn’t offer any decent options other than marrying a wino “everything like people” or living on credit, which, however, would correspond to the previous point. And also give birth to kids and live a “happy” full life. But such a prospect (if it can be called a prospect at all) did not smile at me. Having spit on everything and on the principle of “take everything from life”, I took a chance to enter hardcore and, op-pa, I entered, having passed the exams with an average passing score. Fortunately, I was lucky and allocated a small room on the penultimate floor – a small closet, but extremely comfortable. And most importantly, this “solitary cell” will not have to be shared with anyone. Many expressed sympathy for me, considering for some reason that I live in inhuman conditions, but I did not share this opinion. Generally accepted opinion in general often ran counter to mine. In general, there was another room to choose from, but there I would have to share a place with three more girls, but square meters did not infringe on “personal space”. But living alone is much better.

      A deafening bell rang and the students slowly gathered up, getting ready for the next class, talking among themselves, discussing the last lecture and the imminent lunch break – oh yes, holy lunch. All training was based on some very strange system, more reminiscent of the logic of a drunken gopher who visited an art gallery during Mercury retrograde. A very large block was devoted to mythology, psychology and religion of the world, which for my understanding was beyond good, evil and other living creatures. At the very first lecture, it was as if they told us the ultimate truth, like an annoying mantra, that a thought is material, that it is fulfilled and that we must do everything to translate all our thoughts into reality. Well, complete nonsense. Who can seriously believe this? If this were real, then humanity would have put an end to hostility and hunger long ago. Despite the fact that for a year now all TV channels have been broadcasting that vampires, werewolves and other evil spirits are quite real, it looked like another stage of zombification and an opportunity to blame possible “hanging” and “grouse” on otherworldly forces. And it was only recently that we survived another pandemic, and now some vampires. Well, at least “MMM” was not returned, and thanks for that.

      Stumbling over the threshold, I entered the audience and, thank God, no one paid attention to me. Students communicated, filmed something on their phones in popular social networks, shared likes, boasted of followers. Someone was listening to terrible music through a speaker. A group of guys in the “gallery” played cards. Another group of students were arguing loudly, trying to decide which school was better: Lemur Academy or Whale Academy. At the moment, these are the most popular educational institutions, whose graduates become famous throughout the globe, those who are ready to bend the world, work and May for the company. Despite the fact that opinions were divided, but whatever one may say, everyone spoke positively about the Lemur Academy, although there were a great many rumors around this institution and its graduates and not all of them were unambiguous. It was more like myths and legends about free education (if I don’t forget, I’ll write such a post on my social network).

      – Taylor, – Vosmyachkin sat down next to me. A kind and very gentle guy who strove for dialogue. Extrovert, in a word. Normal. Sociable, sometimes without any measure, which is why he runs into rudeness. The same person that they sing about “this guy was one of those who just love life.”

      – Hello, – out of politeness, I slightly stretched my lips in a smile that tried to grow into a hyena’s grin, the inconvenience was such that a little more and reduce the jaw. I was forced to pull out one earpiece, hinting that I was not too eager to communicate, although Vosmyachkin had never been stopped by such behavior.

      – Did you make matan?

      – Yes.

      – Wow, that’s cool. Can you explain to me the solution for the seventh, eighth, twentieth and twenty-third tasks, – he checked some notes in his notebook. – I’m not sure I made the right decision. But maybe I will find a mistake with you, and it turns out that I did everything right.

      Yes, yes, he considers women more stupid than men, and in any case he tries to at least hint at this; as a maximum – poke a muzzle and hurt more. I don’t want to argue, I don’t want to convince. I don’t need it. However, I don’t need anything. Just go with the flow, detachedly observing life. I had no goals, no dreams, just a certain detachment, perhaps apathy.

      – I can let you write off, but I will not explain anything. I’m not a tutor, – I offered the most painless option for myself. And then last time Vosmyachkin demanded an explanation of all thirty-two tasks and did not lag behind until they really sorted everything out. I remembered already shuddered, I would not want to repeat such an experience.

      – Goes.

      Shrugging my shoulders, I took out the right notebook from my backpack and gave it to my classmate.

      “I’ll