was the key moment: if Peter had answered in a different way, events would have unfolded unlikely. But he politely declined the offer with a soft smile:
– No, thanks. And you?
– I can’t drink alone, – Natalia answered unexpectedly harshly. In her words, one could hear the demonstrative position of an ascetic, and a reproach for refusal, and the offended chastity of a decent woman. The fountain, alas, was not expected…
They talked little at the table, avoiding eye contact, responding only to the questions on duty: more bread, salt, with or without gravy? Peter rightly praised Natalia for a delicious lunch, we lit a cigarette together. We chatted on neutral topics: about the weather here and in the Mediterranean, what is interesting in Turkey, how was the flight. There was an awkward pause.
– Don’t you want to do men’s business? – the hostess provocatively, slightly narrowing her green eyes, looked at the guest. Obviously, she had a course of action for any response. If “yes”, then you can, without losing dignity, develop this topic up to the consent to intimacy, and “no” – worthily retreat, flirtatiously playing with the instincts of a man, portraying a touchy. But Peter broke the slender female strategy, as if he did not understand the depth of the question, and asked:
– What do you mean?
– The toilet doesn’t drain well in the bathroom, can you fix it? – Natalia’s voice sounded poorly concealed, caustic mockery.
– A strong move, checkmate, – thought Peter. He is nearly an English lord, elegantly sent to load shit. And they offered bounty – a heavenly pleasure… He had a choice, but he dodged it. Not inflamed, you know… this is the price of female hatred for unfulfilled hopes and treacherous refusal.
– We need to see. Do you have any work clothes?
Finally went to bed. Natalia coldly wished good night to the space, defiantly making a bed for the guest on the kitchen sofa, and herself, stung, went into the room. Which is quite understandable: if there is no harassment for a long time, there is a malaise. And Peter stretched out with pleasure on a cold sheet and remembered Dasha – delicate, sensual and so dear, mentally thanking her for the symbolic lock in his heart, which she created with her love, the key to which no woman can now pick up.
The next morning, after hastily drinking tea, they began to gather. While Natalia was communicating with the taxi service on her mobile, Peter quietly left a couple of thousand on the trellis, and they said goodbye: she got into her car and went to a beauty salon in the center of the village, where she worked as a manicurist and administrator in one person. And he, after waiting on the street for the ordered car, barely pushed the barrel into the trunk with the help of the driver and asked for a ride first to the store where Daria used to work, and already there Peter would surely remember the way to her house.
– To visit us? – the taxi driver, a lively young boy, asked on duty, seeing a new face in his native places. He couldn’t stand city boys who beat off girls and buying up everything around, and even more so dudes like this. And the cargo is very strange, it will be necessary to ask Natalia on occasion: what for and how much…
– Yes, it’s good here, – Peter answered diplomatically and vaguely. – I need to stop by the store for a minute.
The driver smiled approvingly, portraying understanding and cordial hospitality. Entering the store, Peter, against all logic, caught himself thinking: how wonderful it would be here, behind the counter, to see Daria again… After quickly buying groceries and, most importantly, batteries – avoiding the previous mistake – he returned to the car.
Well, here’s Daria’s house. Peter opened the door: it is quietly, not any soul. Together with the taxi driver, they brought the barrel up the steps and left it standing in the corridor. For additional efforts, the driver received a generous tip, which he was satisfied with. How does Peter know that the taxi driver is familiar with Daria’s husband, and is already dialing his mobile phone number purely out of friendship – yesterday he drove him here from the railway station.
CHAPTER 11. SHARP HORNS
First of all, Kalinkin changed the batteries in the barrel, opening the cherished door. A time machine is a combat vehicle, a super – weapon in its purest form, knight’s armor, and a striking sword, and a faithful horse, and a war chariot, it is a rocket that easily pierces time and space through other dimensions. Peter has firmly learned: constantly keep her in a state of combat readiness, just like gunpowder that is kept dry. After lighting a cigarette, he leisurely walked around the house and suddenly felt a needle in his heart. Remembering the hot days spent here with Daria, those wonderful moments of harmony and love, Peter imagined the Countess de Burlemont, shining in the highest society, there in Paris… What does he dream about, who does he spend time with? Will there be enough strength for her – physical and spiritual – to overcome all the trials, all the temptations of youth and beauty? Will she find happiness among the tinsel and intrigues of the royal court? The soul groaned from these thoughts, and Peter clenched his teeth so hard that he felt the taste of blood in his mouth.
Here, in the present, nothing held him anymore. Ordinary and boring. Natalia generously agreed to look after the birds (“ten days before Daria’s arrival” – Peter lied before parting), there were no other moral anchors. Another thing is where to cast your gaze? The future for about ten years ahead no longer seemed so attractive after a visit to his apartment, and in the past centuries there were no significant events exciting his young imagination. He is also was so far from the naive desires of Pyotr Mikhailovich about Gioconda with Aristotle, and delving into the past is a regression by definition. The time machine provides a fabulous opportunity to possess new knowledge, hidden truths and the secret of an exemplary world order, which no one knows about today. It is possible that they will never know. You can realize any dream: to become an oracle, a famous scientist, or a fabulously rich nouveau riche, knowing in advance significant political and financial events. Therefore, only to the future. But how far, how many centuries ahead?
– Should I point my finger at the sky? – Peter asked himself, took mineral water out of the refrigerator and sat down at Daria’s computer. Delving into the Internet, he found information to analyze the situation.
The solar system is four and a half billion years old. However, nothing lasts forever, not only under the Moon, but in the universe in general. The sun gradually increases its brightness, and in a billion years our planet will become too hot for life. And around the fifth billion year of our era, the luminary will turn into a red giant. It will swell greatly, literally swallowing Mercury, Venus and the Earth. As a red giant, the Sun will last for about a billion more years. All this time, the outer layers of the star will gradually evaporate into space. Thus, it will lose about half of its current mass. By this time, the thermonuclear fuel will completely run out, and the Sun will become a white dwarf. There will no longer be any thermonuclear reactions in it, so the luminary will gradually cool down. Ten billion years after the transformation of our star into a white dwarf, it will cool down so much that it will stop emitting light, although it will emit infrared radiation for a long time. Such is the future of the Sun, a certain oracle claimed.
– What a prospect, – thought Peter, digesting what he had read. – I’ve come a long way. Let’s see what will happen in millions of years.
