The fourth president. Vladimir Baranchikov

The fourth president - Vladimir Baranchikov


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e fourth president

      Vladimir Baranchikov

      © Vladimir Baranchikov, 2023

      ISBN 978-5-0060-6407-2

      Created with Ridero smart publishing system

      I could lead a wonderful, joyful life if I weren’t a fool.

      Johann Wolfgang Goethe. «The sufferings of young Werther»

      Chapter 1. Sauna

      Once, after looking at the «Black Square», Vasily Petrovich Lomakin decided to relax and meditate alone: what is the most important thing in life when people are scared of coronavirus from everywhere? You have to ask yourself this question when you have everything – both a university diploma and parliamentary immunity. The immersion session started in the thinking room of Vasya’s mansion, more precisely, the thinking room was located in the sauna. Where it is warm and quiet, and, most importantly, without female temptation, so as not to distract with their charms, because concentration and detachment are the first and necessary condition! And, secondly, to have a table with hot sausages and vodka next to it – and what’s the big deal, and what’s the big deal? This is just not superfluous! Lomakin respects the poetic creativity of Andrei Makarevich, the author of the text of the popular song «For those who are at Sea», especially since this topic was methodologically close and understandable to Vasily. The bard retired, took a bottle of cognac and began to write different words under a glass… It turns out that everything is ingenious, you need to have in your pocket at one time only eight rubles twelve kopecks for three stars. If he’s not lying, of course. And if vodka is the equivalent of cognac in the sense of the possibility of meeting the Muse.

      – But the last thesis needs to be tested experimentally, – Vasily decided. There was a pause, so necessary in a bold experiment.

      – No, he’s not lying – Vasya unequivocally confirmed after the first one, feeling familiar movements in the skull. – And it looks like the equivalent.

      The problem ceased to be abstract and even began to acquire some elusive tangibility. To remove this logical contradiction, he had to bite the second one. It became stuffy, Lomakin loosened his tie and unbuttoned his jacket by one button, but no more – the position obliges even in the sauna. The process went on, and Vasily quietly began right from the chorus:

      – I drink to the bottom, for those who are in the sea.., – after chewing a cucumber, he boldly developed the topic and reached the main idea, – Ta-ram, pam-pam -pam, ta-ram, pam-pam -pam!

      The right rhythm was found, things were getting better, the creative process was activated, even the face turned red. He’s brainstorming! Oh, how the linguist Lomakin hated this word, all these Anglicisms are cursed, but there’s nothing to be done: the method is the method. Or maybe it’s easier to express in Russian: brainstorming? And then the thought suddenly twisted: and on the other hand, well, how to replace the concept of «dollar», well, not the ruble? This sudden, sinful, obviously unpatriotic maxim distracted Petrovich from the main route of his neural brain communication, thin associative connections were torn… That’s the devil, his machinations! Immediately it became somehow uncomfortable, the euphoria disappeared. There was a causeless, panic fear, because the installation was lowered: we’re getting rid of the dollar! Well, have you forgotten, or something… Lomakin sagged slightly and automatically loosened the belt on his trousers – just in case… Vasily’s right hand suddenly treacherously reached for the bottle, realizing the subconscious reflex of supermen – the desire to add, but the left hand, which was still obeying reason, stopped her halfway to the cherished goal. It was necessary to get out of the stupor urgently, and, fortunately, a wise thought sounded again somewhere in the convolutions:

      – Treat like with like!

      Yes, that’s right, a song is a song, – Vasily agreed with Professor Woland, although he did not understand the essence of his saying, and again began, but with pathos:

      – Where does the Motherland begin? From the picture in your primer…

      Just in case, he finished to the last line, trying to somehow rehabilitate himself, and, if possible, heartfelt, like Mark Bernes. True, Vasily’s voice did not differ in strength and overtones, but a subtle soul, he sang with it… She, my dear, suddenly trembled, unable to withstand the depth of emotions inherent in the melody and simple words understandable to every Russian, and burst into tears. And then Vasily’s right hand got out of control again and splashed half a glass at once. He had to drink, to fill his soul with something…

      Well, and then? And what’s next is next as always. In general, shameless women dreamed at night, the next day the fool buzzed decently, he had to polish with beer and take a sabbatical from himself for one day.

      Chapter 2. Closed opening

      – Well, what is the principle by which various state-scale institutions are awarded with the names of famous people in Russia? – Vasily Petrovich was puzzled in the morning with a hangover. His head buzzing with pain set him up to criticize everything and everywere.

      – It is clear that those associated with science, technology and production are the names of great scientists and designers: Korolev, Tupolev, Vernadsky. The surnames of outstanding writers and artists adorn the Academy of Arts – named after Repin, the Institute of Russian Literature – Pushkin House. Logically, – the academician debated with himself, lying on a feather bed in his luxurious blue bedroom.

      The pain slowly drifted away, returning normal feelings and sane thoughts. By the evening, when the unclouded consciousness of the researcher returned to Vasily Petrovich, the conclusion was formed that the sauna, as a platform for developing ideas, had, alas, exhausted itself. The benefits of this were undeniable – the next morning, the emboldened Lomakin broke away from his fence and went to the people. Despite the cognitive dissonance, he rushed on a blue Bentley, matching the color of his eyes, according to the correct political course, to Yeltsinka library, where he hoped to find accurate and truthful information. Well, it’s not like driving to Leninka bibliotheca, all the books there must have deviated from the correct course of history…

      On the subscription, read, on guard, the bespectacled librarian turned out to be vigilant, scarier than a traffic cop with a badge, she demanded a passport, a phone number, only she did not offer to breathe into a tube (and in vain!). After each question, she carefully, with a squint, looked at the academician’s reaction, and then analyzed his answer like a lie detector. While it was tedious, mockingly long to fill out a reader’s ticket with personal data, Vasily had the earth go out from under his feet several times, how bad it was with a hangover in the library stuffiness, even felt like a spy sent, and of course, from stress he wanted to add alco again. That’s how women ruin us, and you write off everything for the 1990s and cataclysms…

      But thank God, the dialogues finally ended, the catalogs began. Where to start the search? Of course, with the definition of the concept! You need to know the enemy by sight, and to know his name is also a good start – linguistic turbidity, coronAvirus. In short, Vasily took a couple of folios on emidemiology and virology, walked through them with a professorial glance and quickly learned the essence. Thesis: what is the enemy like? The answer is a virus. What is a virus? This is a poison, a tiny formation, not even a cell, invisible in an ordinary microscope, but only in an electronic one. And, allegedly, this non-cell gets into an ordinary cell and multiplies there, releases the devil into the body, changes something there, and here you are: headache like now, fever, cough, and sometimes adeiu: order a wooden mackintosh, as the student Shurik used to say his partner. And the size of this non-cell is from 50 to 200 nm, that is, NANOMETERS. It was a lead… From a premonition of luck, a sudden discovery, the back of Vasily Petrovich’s head ached, like Gruppenfuhrer Muller, in the movie, in a word.

      – From my father’s old budenovka, which we found somewhere in the closet.., —

      Vasily quietly started the melody for some reason from the middle of the fifth verse, scratching the top of his head with his left hand, not even realizing at that moment where he was. With his free, trembling right hand, he instinctively groped for a cigarette,


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