I consider consideration optional
Mendeleev, as is commonly believed, saw the periodic table in a dream. Kekule saw the formula for benzene there.
Many ideas - for programs, for books - come from the most unexpected sources. Sometimes from rethinking the phrase, which is heard to hear a hundred times a day.
The phrase “yes, complain even to the Lord God!” Can be heard at almost any moment of the working day from one of the employees closest to the author of the housing department. Actually, the sketch below was born.
')
Have a nice Friday!
- I will complain to your superiors! - Engineer Agafonov promised in a not too confident voice. The Soviet release of the aunt on the other side of the housing dispatcher dispatcher’s desk nodded with indifference.
- Yes, even the Lord God, - she explained in words, and angrily waved her hand, sending the visitor out.
Home Agafonov walked in a boiling mood, which by the end of the road had time to cool down and precipitate. For some reason, one thing was spinning in my head: I lived to old age, so that I could listen to this! And one more thought: the biography has recently become more and more like an epitaph: born, studied, married, aged, reposed. It seems that life was interesting, why didn't you remember anything pleasant at that moment?
“Here we will write to the Lord God,” Agafonov smiled atheistically, and took a blank sheet of paper from the shelf. The fingers quickly remembered the hold, the words flowed from under the ball of the fountain pen confidently and quickly. “I consider it my duty to inform you that ...” - and then the whole essence of the claim: we pay money, but no one is going to clean the porch, and all that. All in all such a wounded and offended soul poured out quite a few, barely fit into the leaf. Signature. Date. Where to send it? What to write on the envelope? Which mailbox to drop?
“If it exists, and so it will read it,” Agafonov grinned again, and found that the righteous anger was squandered by itself. As it was not. And what, it was thought unexpectedly, a good therapy. After all, it is clear that the complaints here will not help, it's childish. And we must go to the management of the housing department with the papers and take it for the gills, or what it is breathing now. Act yourself.
The doorbell ringing, law enforcement knocked. The engineer Agafonov didn’t foresee a conflict with the authorities - a pensioner, yes, a free-thinker ñ was, he didn’t take away the complexities, but he didn’t quarrel with the authorities. On trifles, anyway.
“I'm coming,” Agafonov replied gruffly. Put on slippers and spanked to the entrance.
- Did you file a complaint? - impassively inquired, with a salute, a servant of the law on the other side of the door. What exactly, and what law, the engineer Agafonov did not consider: at first he slammed, and his vision was not in the best shape. I managed to note one thing: I did not introduce myself, and I did not name the title. Disorder!
“I submitted it,” Agafonov admitted the obvious, and belatedly thought: wait, what kind of complaint are we talking about?
“That's about this one,” the servant of the law extracted the same sheet from the briefcase. Complaint addressed to the Lord God. - yours?
“Mine,” and the heart of engineer Agafonov fell into his heels for a couple of seconds. And when it came to the place, Agafonov discovered that he was being dragged in a receipt. On it, a dumbfounded gaze dismantled only the illegible verdict "The complaint was considered."
- P-n-sorry, this is how - the complaint has already been considered?
“Of course,” said the servant of the law politely. - Adopted and reviewed by all the rules.
- And-and-I'm sorry, and what has been done in response ?!
“Nothing,” they looked at Agafonov with surprise. - No reason. Does this surprise you?
And once again a noble anger boiled over for the offended retiree.
“It angers me,” engineer Agafonov rejected all the obvious absurdity of the conversation. - I demand that you take action!
“You will have to file a complaint with a higher authority,” the servant of the law sighed. - Although I would not advise.
“And I will,” Agafonov promised, heating up to a white-hot face. - In whose name to write?
- Why write? - the servant of the law was surprised. - We simply, without gimp. Tell yourself everything. I beg! - and retreated a step, beckoning the pensioner to himself.
And the engineer Agafonov, not understanding why, stepped onto the landing, automatically slammed the door behind him. Belatedly realized that he was dressed in the most shabby, and that he did not take the key.
* * *
- Where I am? - Agafonov managed to pronounce, not immediately realizing that they were not at all on the landing.
“At the Institution,” the attendant readily explained. - The order is as follows. You want the complaint to go ahead - the director will deal with this issue personally.
Here Agafonov found enough spirit presence to stop. Now it only came to whose name he wrote the complaint. And that this someone has, it turns out, the higher authorities.
Around, at first glance, the most common institution. Nothing extraordinary. Stronghold of bureaucracy. Corridors, corridors, doors. Employees and collaborators scurry around, all in suits, and it smells quite stationery. No one was surprised by his, Agafonov, mind. Agafonov looked at himself and was taken aback: he was dressed in a strict suit, shod in immaculate shoes.
“I took courage,” explained the accompanying person. - We have a strict form of clothing. Now I will take you to the director, and you will personally make all the complaints.
They set off down the corridor. From time to time, the corridor intersected with another, perpendicular - and everywhere doors, doors. Green government carpet underfoot, ceiling over head. Engineer Agafonov obediently wandered behind the servant of the law, and the mind began to wake up little by little.
- Listen, because I wrote a complaint to the Lord God!
“That's right,” the attendant confirmed.
- And ... he considered her?
“You see,” the servant of the law stopped and smiled amiably. Something strange seemed like Agafonov in his appearance. But everything seems to be as it should be - a man’s head, covered by a cap on his head, arms and legs, boots and a suit. Briefcase in hand. Boots, polished to a mirror shine. Agafonov remembered: he understood what was being said to him, actually.
“You see,” the companion repeated, even friendlier. - We have our own rules. Initially, the complaint is sent to the curator of the universe for consideration, then to the inspector, then to the chief inspector, then to the deputy director, and only then ...
- And who are you?
“I'm the curator,” smiled encouragingly at engineer Agafonov. - You can take it as my name. In order to save you from waiting, I have the authority to personally refer you to the director.
Everything was mixed up in Agafonov's head, and stubbornly did not want to come in order.
- That is ... I, see ... well ... Lord! - Agafonov practically started babbling, but managed to come to his senses - he was ashamed. To such an extent that partly gained composure.
“You don’t worry,” Agafonova assured the Curator. - The director will take you without delay, and decide the matter in your favor.
- Why?
- You see, he once created your world first.
- Sorry? - Engineer Agafonov froze at the next intersection of corridors. - My ?! I.e…
“Well, yes,” said the Curator. - You do not know? The very first universe was yours. It is a great honor for me to keep order in it.
“And you call that order ?!” - Engineer Agafonov again experienced acute civil offense. - What is going on there is order?
- The sun is working properly, I do not allow global catastrophes, the aliens will not notice you for three hundred years. Well, yes, everything is in order. And what does not suit you?
Agafonov for a long time, energetically and ardently listed, that he personally did not suit him, a pensioner who honestly devoted fifty years to serving his country. Did not suit almost everything.
- Excuse me, what am I doing with it? - Surprised curator, without losing the friendliness.
- How is it with anything? You follow the order?
- That's right. If you do not know, people have free will. Not everyone, by the way, is granted. And here you have been granted. So why not use?
“But what's the point ...” and Agafonov bit his tongue. Employees walked around in both directions, and no one paid attention to engineer Agafonov’s eloquence. Nodding politely, smiling. - But wait! This is how ... is it you, perhaps, consider all complaints against the name of God !?
- We call him the Director. You can say "Creator", - specified the Curator. - So more correct. Do not forget that this is not a name, but a position.
- Yes please! And what, you consider all such complaints?
- Of course.
“There are probably thousands of them!”
- Well, what are you. On one earth day, an average of five to six quadrillions. You do not think that humans are the only intelligent species in your Universe?
- And you have time to read all this ?! - Engineer Agafonov was amazed.
- Well yes. This is my responsibility, - the curator tilted his head.
- But when do you have time?
- Oh, nothing. You see, time goes completely different here.
Agafonov tried to imagine five quadrillion complaints - he did not immediately remember how many zeros there were in this number. Imagination refused to provide such.
- And never fulfill the requirements?
- Almost never.
- And what is your curator after that ?!
“You see,” the Curator clearly has angelic patience. “According to our rules, if I satisfy someone’s complaint, I must notify all the persons concerned, and also satisfy their complaints in the same way.” Example: if someone wants to harm his neighbor, then I have to meet and counter-demand, you know? These are the rules. When people find out, they usually do not insist on fulfilling their requirements. In your case there was no reason to intervene.
- Lord! Where am I?! - engineer Agafonov grabbed his head. His companion laid the lower pair of hands behind his back, and spread the upper pair. Agafonov didn’t manage to be surprised at such a transformation - everyone around him stopped looking like people. The angels were here also looking, as they are usually painted, and devils, and who just did not exist! Engineer Agafonov managed to notice the twisted horns on the curator's head and tail with a delicate tassel at the end, falling out from under his jacket. The face is mostly human, and thanks for that.
- The director does not like to be commemorated in vain, - the curator sighed. - Also, he does not like rhetorical questions. We have almost arrived. What's wrong with you?
Agafonov looked around, not bothering to replace the sagging jaw. When his eyes fell on the briefcase in the curator's right lower hand, something awkward caught my eye. Agafonov did not immediately realize that the portfolio was rectangular - in the shape of a parallelepiped, that is - but not three angles converge at each vertex, but four. And every corner is straight. Agafonov looked up, and his head was spinning: the staff of the eerie kind were not only going back and forth and left and right, but also up and down. At the same time, they walked vertically as naturally as horizontally.
- It's okay, - the curator caught him by the elbow, did not let him fall. “There are four spatial dimensions in this package.” It happens more. And where else to store so many universes? You see me in the true, so to speak, appearance. Yes, that's what: as soon as you remember the Director for the second time in vain, you begin to perceive everything in its true form. Very comfortable, right? But to mention it in vain for the third time I would not advise. He will have to take you out of turn.
Engineer Agafonov grabbed his heart, and it seemed that he did it with two right hands at once. And something strongly pressed on the head - and it turned out to be scary to check what was on the head. Did not dare.
“It's okay,” repeated the Curator. - Two floors up, one turn to the right, and we are already in ...
- No, - Agafonov resolutely retreated a step. - You know, I changed my mind. No need for an appointment.
- But why?! - was amazed Curator. - The director is very pleased to receive visitors from the First Universe. You are on a special account. I pledge that your case will be decided in minutes!
“No, you know,” Agafonov tried not to look either at the briefcase, or at the curator, or at anything. - I can handle it myself. There is no need to distract the Director with such trifles.
“Then sign here,” the curator got the complaint from the briefcase. - Right here. Yes, under the date. In any form. For example, “I consider the consideration of my complaint optional,” and again the signature. Right. Thank. Leave as a souvenir, - the curator stretched the pen. - It was extremely pleasant to talk with you!
* * *
Engineer Agafonov found himself standing in his hallway, the door in front of him was closed, in his left hand he had the same complaint, in his right hand he had the same pen. Beautiful, dog, massive, stylish. From metal, come. Square in cross-section cap. Probably worth a lot of money!
Agafonov stalked into the office, where he collapsed into a chair. Long looked at the complaint, endorsed by an illegible signature, clearly ending in "-ail". I looked at the fountain pen, and again I took the example that the four right angles converge at the cap tips. He shook his head, driving away the obsession.
Then he walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Horns, tail is not observed. On the head - nothing stranger. Two hands, two legs. It seems like an ordinary person. Agafonov returned to the office, and for a long time looked at the paper with a complaint.
“I'll show you the state now ...” he bit his tongue. It seemed that the curator's signature on the paper lit up. - Now I will arrange for you!
Agafonov with a decisive hand picked up the phone. Already in the evening at the entrance was washed, screwed in new light bulbs, and earned intercom.
A complaint in the evening somewhere gone. The pen remained, it is true, but the complaint has disappeared. Although the engineer Agafonov himself would not risk putting it in the trash. And who would have believed, tell him the truth?
Many ideas - for programs, for books - come from the most unexpected sources. Sometimes from rethinking the phrase, which is heard to hear a hundred times a day.
The phrase “yes, complain even to the Lord God!” Can be heard at almost any moment of the working day from one of the employees closest to the author of the housing department. Actually, the sketch below was born.
')
Have a nice Friday!
- I will complain to your superiors! - Engineer Agafonov promised in a not too confident voice. The Soviet release of the aunt on the other side of the housing dispatcher dispatcher’s desk nodded with indifference.
- Yes, even the Lord God, - she explained in words, and angrily waved her hand, sending the visitor out.
Home Agafonov walked in a boiling mood, which by the end of the road had time to cool down and precipitate. For some reason, one thing was spinning in my head: I lived to old age, so that I could listen to this! And one more thought: the biography has recently become more and more like an epitaph: born, studied, married, aged, reposed. It seems that life was interesting, why didn't you remember anything pleasant at that moment?
“Here we will write to the Lord God,” Agafonov smiled atheistically, and took a blank sheet of paper from the shelf. The fingers quickly remembered the hold, the words flowed from under the ball of the fountain pen confidently and quickly. “I consider it my duty to inform you that ...” - and then the whole essence of the claim: we pay money, but no one is going to clean the porch, and all that. All in all such a wounded and offended soul poured out quite a few, barely fit into the leaf. Signature. Date. Where to send it? What to write on the envelope? Which mailbox to drop?
“If it exists, and so it will read it,” Agafonov grinned again, and found that the righteous anger was squandered by itself. As it was not. And what, it was thought unexpectedly, a good therapy. After all, it is clear that the complaints here will not help, it's childish. And we must go to the management of the housing department with the papers and take it for the gills, or what it is breathing now. Act yourself.
The doorbell ringing, law enforcement knocked. The engineer Agafonov didn’t foresee a conflict with the authorities - a pensioner, yes, a free-thinker ñ was, he didn’t take away the complexities, but he didn’t quarrel with the authorities. On trifles, anyway.
“I'm coming,” Agafonov replied gruffly. Put on slippers and spanked to the entrance.
- Did you file a complaint? - impassively inquired, with a salute, a servant of the law on the other side of the door. What exactly, and what law, the engineer Agafonov did not consider: at first he slammed, and his vision was not in the best shape. I managed to note one thing: I did not introduce myself, and I did not name the title. Disorder!
“I submitted it,” Agafonov admitted the obvious, and belatedly thought: wait, what kind of complaint are we talking about?
“That's about this one,” the servant of the law extracted the same sheet from the briefcase. Complaint addressed to the Lord God. - yours?
“Mine,” and the heart of engineer Agafonov fell into his heels for a couple of seconds. And when it came to the place, Agafonov discovered that he was being dragged in a receipt. On it, a dumbfounded gaze dismantled only the illegible verdict "The complaint was considered."
- P-n-sorry, this is how - the complaint has already been considered?
“Of course,” said the servant of the law politely. - Adopted and reviewed by all the rules.
- And-and-I'm sorry, and what has been done in response ?!
“Nothing,” they looked at Agafonov with surprise. - No reason. Does this surprise you?
And once again a noble anger boiled over for the offended retiree.
“It angers me,” engineer Agafonov rejected all the obvious absurdity of the conversation. - I demand that you take action!
“You will have to file a complaint with a higher authority,” the servant of the law sighed. - Although I would not advise.
“And I will,” Agafonov promised, heating up to a white-hot face. - In whose name to write?
- Why write? - the servant of the law was surprised. - We simply, without gimp. Tell yourself everything. I beg! - and retreated a step, beckoning the pensioner to himself.
And the engineer Agafonov, not understanding why, stepped onto the landing, automatically slammed the door behind him. Belatedly realized that he was dressed in the most shabby, and that he did not take the key.
* * *
- Where I am? - Agafonov managed to pronounce, not immediately realizing that they were not at all on the landing.
“At the Institution,” the attendant readily explained. - The order is as follows. You want the complaint to go ahead - the director will deal with this issue personally.
Here Agafonov found enough spirit presence to stop. Now it only came to whose name he wrote the complaint. And that this someone has, it turns out, the higher authorities.
Around, at first glance, the most common institution. Nothing extraordinary. Stronghold of bureaucracy. Corridors, corridors, doors. Employees and collaborators scurry around, all in suits, and it smells quite stationery. No one was surprised by his, Agafonov, mind. Agafonov looked at himself and was taken aback: he was dressed in a strict suit, shod in immaculate shoes.
“I took courage,” explained the accompanying person. - We have a strict form of clothing. Now I will take you to the director, and you will personally make all the complaints.
They set off down the corridor. From time to time, the corridor intersected with another, perpendicular - and everywhere doors, doors. Green government carpet underfoot, ceiling over head. Engineer Agafonov obediently wandered behind the servant of the law, and the mind began to wake up little by little.
- Listen, because I wrote a complaint to the Lord God!
“That's right,” the attendant confirmed.
- And ... he considered her?
“You see,” the servant of the law stopped and smiled amiably. Something strange seemed like Agafonov in his appearance. But everything seems to be as it should be - a man’s head, covered by a cap on his head, arms and legs, boots and a suit. Briefcase in hand. Boots, polished to a mirror shine. Agafonov remembered: he understood what was being said to him, actually.
“You see,” the companion repeated, even friendlier. - We have our own rules. Initially, the complaint is sent to the curator of the universe for consideration, then to the inspector, then to the chief inspector, then to the deputy director, and only then ...
- And who are you?
“I'm the curator,” smiled encouragingly at engineer Agafonov. - You can take it as my name. In order to save you from waiting, I have the authority to personally refer you to the director.
Everything was mixed up in Agafonov's head, and stubbornly did not want to come in order.
- That is ... I, see ... well ... Lord! - Agafonov practically started babbling, but managed to come to his senses - he was ashamed. To such an extent that partly gained composure.
“You don’t worry,” Agafonova assured the Curator. - The director will take you without delay, and decide the matter in your favor.
- Why?
- You see, he once created your world first.
- Sorry? - Engineer Agafonov froze at the next intersection of corridors. - My ?! I.e…
“Well, yes,” said the Curator. - You do not know? The very first universe was yours. It is a great honor for me to keep order in it.
“And you call that order ?!” - Engineer Agafonov again experienced acute civil offense. - What is going on there is order?
- The sun is working properly, I do not allow global catastrophes, the aliens will not notice you for three hundred years. Well, yes, everything is in order. And what does not suit you?
Agafonov for a long time, energetically and ardently listed, that he personally did not suit him, a pensioner who honestly devoted fifty years to serving his country. Did not suit almost everything.
- Excuse me, what am I doing with it? - Surprised curator, without losing the friendliness.
- How is it with anything? You follow the order?
- That's right. If you do not know, people have free will. Not everyone, by the way, is granted. And here you have been granted. So why not use?
“But what's the point ...” and Agafonov bit his tongue. Employees walked around in both directions, and no one paid attention to engineer Agafonov’s eloquence. Nodding politely, smiling. - But wait! This is how ... is it you, perhaps, consider all complaints against the name of God !?
- We call him the Director. You can say "Creator", - specified the Curator. - So more correct. Do not forget that this is not a name, but a position.
- Yes please! And what, you consider all such complaints?
- Of course.
“There are probably thousands of them!”
- Well, what are you. On one earth day, an average of five to six quadrillions. You do not think that humans are the only intelligent species in your Universe?
- And you have time to read all this ?! - Engineer Agafonov was amazed.
- Well yes. This is my responsibility, - the curator tilted his head.
- But when do you have time?
- Oh, nothing. You see, time goes completely different here.
Agafonov tried to imagine five quadrillion complaints - he did not immediately remember how many zeros there were in this number. Imagination refused to provide such.
- And never fulfill the requirements?
- Almost never.
- And what is your curator after that ?!
“You see,” the Curator clearly has angelic patience. “According to our rules, if I satisfy someone’s complaint, I must notify all the persons concerned, and also satisfy their complaints in the same way.” Example: if someone wants to harm his neighbor, then I have to meet and counter-demand, you know? These are the rules. When people find out, they usually do not insist on fulfilling their requirements. In your case there was no reason to intervene.
- Lord! Where am I?! - engineer Agafonov grabbed his head. His companion laid the lower pair of hands behind his back, and spread the upper pair. Agafonov didn’t manage to be surprised at such a transformation - everyone around him stopped looking like people. The angels were here also looking, as they are usually painted, and devils, and who just did not exist! Engineer Agafonov managed to notice the twisted horns on the curator's head and tail with a delicate tassel at the end, falling out from under his jacket. The face is mostly human, and thanks for that.
- The director does not like to be commemorated in vain, - the curator sighed. - Also, he does not like rhetorical questions. We have almost arrived. What's wrong with you?
Agafonov looked around, not bothering to replace the sagging jaw. When his eyes fell on the briefcase in the curator's right lower hand, something awkward caught my eye. Agafonov did not immediately realize that the portfolio was rectangular - in the shape of a parallelepiped, that is - but not three angles converge at each vertex, but four. And every corner is straight. Agafonov looked up, and his head was spinning: the staff of the eerie kind were not only going back and forth and left and right, but also up and down. At the same time, they walked vertically as naturally as horizontally.
- It's okay, - the curator caught him by the elbow, did not let him fall. “There are four spatial dimensions in this package.” It happens more. And where else to store so many universes? You see me in the true, so to speak, appearance. Yes, that's what: as soon as you remember the Director for the second time in vain, you begin to perceive everything in its true form. Very comfortable, right? But to mention it in vain for the third time I would not advise. He will have to take you out of turn.
Engineer Agafonov grabbed his heart, and it seemed that he did it with two right hands at once. And something strongly pressed on the head - and it turned out to be scary to check what was on the head. Did not dare.
“It's okay,” repeated the Curator. - Two floors up, one turn to the right, and we are already in ...
- No, - Agafonov resolutely retreated a step. - You know, I changed my mind. No need for an appointment.
- But why?! - was amazed Curator. - The director is very pleased to receive visitors from the First Universe. You are on a special account. I pledge that your case will be decided in minutes!
“No, you know,” Agafonov tried not to look either at the briefcase, or at the curator, or at anything. - I can handle it myself. There is no need to distract the Director with such trifles.
“Then sign here,” the curator got the complaint from the briefcase. - Right here. Yes, under the date. In any form. For example, “I consider the consideration of my complaint optional,” and again the signature. Right. Thank. Leave as a souvenir, - the curator stretched the pen. - It was extremely pleasant to talk with you!
* * *
Engineer Agafonov found himself standing in his hallway, the door in front of him was closed, in his left hand he had the same complaint, in his right hand he had the same pen. Beautiful, dog, massive, stylish. From metal, come. Square in cross-section cap. Probably worth a lot of money!
Agafonov stalked into the office, where he collapsed into a chair. Long looked at the complaint, endorsed by an illegible signature, clearly ending in "-ail". I looked at the fountain pen, and again I took the example that the four right angles converge at the cap tips. He shook his head, driving away the obsession.
Then he walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Horns, tail is not observed. On the head - nothing stranger. Two hands, two legs. It seems like an ordinary person. Agafonov returned to the office, and for a long time looked at the paper with a complaint.
“I'll show you the state now ...” he bit his tongue. It seemed that the curator's signature on the paper lit up. - Now I will arrange for you!
Agafonov with a decisive hand picked up the phone. Already in the evening at the entrance was washed, screwed in new light bulbs, and earned intercom.
A complaint in the evening somewhere gone. The pen remained, it is true, but the complaint has disappeared. Although the engineer Agafonov himself would not risk putting it in the trash. And who would have believed, tell him the truth?
Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/390297/
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