Time Jumps. The Paradigm of Immortality. Vladimir Baranchikov

from the dungeon of the Bastille, expressing his desire with the phrase “I want to go back”, and, having moved to another dimension, made a jump to 2021, crossing the gap of four hundred years and two thousand kilometers. When his ability to think returned, he felt like he was sitting on the couch next to his old parrot friends. The clever girls Grunya and Borya looked with obvious bewilderment at the guest who had fallen to them from nowhere, and bowed their heads in his direction in surprise. Their cohabitation in a cage precluded the ability to speak humanly, but undoubtedly: each of them would be able to express a common firm opinion:

      – Peter is a fool, Peter is a fool!

      Peter telepathically caught the thought floating in the air:

      – Really, would a reasonable person leave his beloved, a count’s title and a royal court in beautiful Paris? – And then he answered with conviction: – No, everything was done correctly. The Bastille is not a Louvre or a sanatorium.

      He looked around once again in a new setting: a rural hut, this is my first time here. Undoubtedly, the time machine had the function of sanity and, moreover, a well-developed sense of humor, placing it in a space causally related to the initial starting events. A kind of deja vu.

      – I wonder who is the mysterious developer of this miracle that ignores the laws of nature? Nature itself? – Peter pretty much strained his thinking apparatus, but due to natural limitations, he immediately got lost in the wilds of abstract logic.

      Having a unique experience of moving, he knew: first of all, you need to evaluate your current image. Kalinkin walked up to the battered trellis and studied himself carefully for several minutes. The mirror reflected a tall young blond man with a pleasant face, blue eyes and a short haircut – the spitting image of Paul Bettany. Light, three-day unshaven, a suit made of soft gray fabric, a white shirt with a small blue check, a brown belt on the belt and the same brown soft shoes. And what about the English language, the car did not give this bonus? Peter stood in the tribune pose and began to recite nursery rhymes:

      – It is cold and still, the wind is away,

      And a little Jack Frost is busy today…

      In assessing his talents, he was objective: he had not advanced far, not at all Cockney, pronunciation of the type “English with a dictionary”, at the level of Pyotr Mikhailovich. A good reason to reflect on how the newly-made handsome man easily parted with the image of the pensioner Kalinkin, and how wonderful it is to feel young! The miracle machine intuitively determined that there was no need for a foreign language in the village. And here she is, a wonderful barrel, standing on legs in the corridor. As a convinced idolater, Kalinkin leaned towards her in a theatrical pose: thank you so much for the appearance and outfit, the spitting image of a dandy, if only the local boys, sensing an outsider, would not fuck off. Ask for what? And don’t walk down our street! Kalinkin put his hand in his pocket – and there, according to tradition, the Russian currency rustles. Normal course!

      Peter left the house and, descending into the front garden, approached the fence: the forest was black on the horizon, cottages and country houses were scattered closer, beyond the meadow. The place is unfamiliar, I have not been here before. The pastoral picture was broken by the sound of an engine: a black Renault Duster jumped out from behind a turn of a dirt road, mercilessly dusting, and braked at the very gate. A dense brunette of about forty years old, dressed in high rural fashion, fell out of the crossover: a bright striped sleeveless jacket and elegant black leggings, frankly tight-fitting bulges and concavities of the body. The manners of a fashionista are clearly not aristocratic, such a person can also hit the head with a bag. She quickly jangled the alarm keyring and asked Peter:

      – Hey, what are you doing here? – boldly she began her attack right at a gallop. And stopping about three meters from Peter, she continued the interrogation. – Who is this?

      Peter was in no hurry to answer and looked appraisingly at the hostess of the house. It is easy to see that his appearance made a strong impression on her, but the level of aggression did not decrease from this. To defuse the situation, he gently replied:

      – Thank you for taking care of Grunya and Borya. By the way, greetings from Dasha.

      The brunette raised her wide painted sausage eyebrows in surprise and came closer:

      – Is Daria back?

      – Not yet, I left first.

      – Where is she?

      – In bed with Louis the Fourteenth, – Peter flashed through his brain, but he answered peaceably: – In Turkey, on vacation.

      – Were you there too? It doesn’t look like… – The lady did not take her incredulous gaze off him and automatically identified: “stranger.” Indeed, all this was very strange, not to mention the fact that Peter’s appearance, outfit and manner of conversation were a complete dissonance with the local standard.

      – I rested for five days, so we agreed from the very beginning, – he continued to compose. – And she’s for a full two weeks.

      – It doesn’t look like a southern tan. Are you Peter?

      – Yes, that’s right. Did Daria tell you about me?

      – My name is Natalia. Yes, she said that she had a new acquaintance, a cute brown-haired man. And you’re blond.

      – I burned out in the sun, – Peter was not at a loss, having given out complete nonsense, and thought: – Wow, these women…

      Everything looked silly and doubtful. However, Natalia didn ‘t show it:

      – Okay, why are we standing here. Come in, – and the first one resolutely headed for the house. Peter followed the hostess, noting the energetic gait and, of course, automatically assessing her advantages, accessible to the view from behind, somewhere four plus.

      – And what is this? – she stared at the new object in the corridor, and then looked questioningly at the guest. – Where is this from?

      There was a version that this barrel is an antique value, which was acquired today in the village with the assistance of Daria.

      – Yes, yes, it is Daria, – Peter stressed, noticing a positive reaction to her name.

      – Actually, I came to check on the birds, Dasha asked for it very much, she was worried… and then they called about this device, said it was urgent, so I asked them to deliver it here. But how did you get into the house?

      – I couldn’t get through to you, I climbed through the window…

      The further Peter fantasized, the more ridiculous the story became, however, it did not seem to bother the hostess in the least. After making sure that the house was in order and everything was in place, she changed her anger to mercy, sat down on a chair, lit a cigarette, and new, playful notes appeared in her low, confident voice.

      – It’s not so important, – she reasoned, – where this incomprehensible dandy came from to visit her, the main thing is that Dasha is far away…

      – Are you hungry? I’ll edit and sew something right now, – she said allegorically, wanting to seem original. – By the way, where did you buy such a beautiful suit?

      – In Antalya. In the evening we went for a walk with Dasha, walked along the boulevard, went into the salon. There are good discounts in the season.

      – So you came straight to us from St. Petersburg?

      – Yes,