ALEXANDER CHERENOV - NEONOO, or PARADISE IN THE NOOSPHERE

© ALEXANDER CHERENOV, 2019

ISBN 978-5-0050-8770-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

…Where I am? And what am I doing here? I do not remember anything… No, I lie: I remember something. That’s about «what am I doing here?» Something happened… precisely with me. Oh, so what? What exactly? I must remember… Oh, yes: it seems, the other day I died… No, it does not seem: I just died! That’s why there are Ilf with Petrov in a head: «So much work has been loaded – I’m afraid, as if not to die!» It’s funny, but I was afraid too. And here is the result: I died. Someone took my life from me – and I died.

So say after this, that they do not die of fear! You need evidence?! Here it is – me! I am absent there and present… I feel a cold sweat break through me. I don’t feel the sweat itself, but I feel like I am getting through. And then: if I can argue on the subject of personal death – and not hypothetical, but held – that means, I… That’s classic: «cogito ergo sum!» «I think – it means I exist!» And this is no longer a philosophical abstraction: a fact! The fact of personal example and direct participation!

So, calm down. Although, what here, to hell, calm? I want to believe, but I cannot believe! And what should be done in order to believe? What do they do in the first place? Probably, they bring thoughts in order – and, so to say: «forward – on milestones, with a cheerful laugh!» Well, «remember them by name». Glory… I do not know to whom, there – god or hell – but my memory, it seems, did not go away… on the way to «another world». So, «I remember here, but I don’t remember there» – this is not about me.

So: I do not remember exactly how, but I certainly died. We will remember. So: it seems, I watched TV – and, it seems, hockey. «Russia» in the semifinals, «courageously» surrendered to Canadians with superior fees. Courage plucked on three – seven. We got a chance to «win the bronze» (previously only the first place was considered a win). I will not argue what exactly happened to me, not to mention what happened to them. Although, what could have happened to them?! Nothing: the guys calmly managed without snot – and immediately went to their «Canada» to receive the next «labor» millions.

And, here, I… It seems, that my head was spinning – and not from success. I remember that it «arrived». Not added – thoughts, there, or other property – namely, «arrived»! The blood, perhaps, surged, or the brains shuffled, but it took me down with my head. I remember, that I even managed to be surprised: «That turns out to be how it happens!»

And then I remember only one failure – not a memory failure: it’s too original even for me: remember… failure in memory! I mean failure as an action and «end station». Impenetrable darkness worked out for such – and in passing, and for the road. I remember, that at this moment my head was not mine, but something, tightly wrapped… dense. The most curious thing: I did not feel pain. In none of the moments: neither at the start nor at the finish. So, he just took it and died… Well, I already said: someone took it, but I died.

I don’t speak for «later»: I don’t remember. Surely, there was a classic: «the old mother will cry in the corner, the father will brush away the tear the…» So, I will not lie about the «wires to the last journey». I also do not want to fill in the spirit of the heroes of Raymond Moody’s books «Life after death» and «Life after life». In other words: I do not remember being separated from myself, and, having soared under the ceiling in the form of a spirit, he looked around at his «soulless» body. I do not remember any «light at the end of the tunnel», where I was, according to the scenario, must be waited for by extremely happy relatives and «representatives of the administration of the other world».

I will not say anything for the details of the civil memorial service, which, of course, was, albeit in Russian simply utterly. Or, maybe, there was even a speaker in the spirit of Chekhov’s Zapoikin, who crushed a tear from the participants of the event with the words of the classic: «Can you believe your eyes and ears? Is it not a terrible dream, this coffin, these tearful faces, groans and cries?» Although, does it really matter, how I was «escorted»? Yes, and the «last» whether this «path», if I now have the opportunity to argue on its theme?

What is it that turns out: they took away my life, but I stayed?! Or did my «I» remain? But in any case: there is something left – and this is already something. The first… no, the second thing – I look around. No, I’m lying: this is the third thing. And the second thing is… The second thing… I grope myself. I grope – and I grope for nothing. Well, nothing at all. Because there is nothing to feel: under my hands there is nothing. Although I’m lying again: I don’t have a hand the same way as nothing else. But one thing I can say for sure. No, and again I lie: two I can say for sure. First: I looked at myself. And second: I did not see myself. I have not seen – and still do not see.

But I clearly remember both processes, if only because both have caused in my soul… the same discomfort in me… Discomfort… What unbecoming elegance this is! What, there, to hell, discomfort: a sense of horror! And not some, there, provincial: inexpressible! Not conveyed by words… and all the rest!

But this, it seems, is the very beginning only. Further, as it should be – more. The process, as they say, «went» – and I see… that I am not the only one, who is just as «noticeable»! That’s because I do not notice anyone, although I notice how much diligent! Around me… exactly like this: at three hundred and sixty degrees… «within sight»… how could I put it more softly… there is not a soul or something! The lack of shower «colorfully» is complemented by the lack of everything the rest. Around – as well as in any other geometry – there is not only no one, but nothing! And yet the big question is, is there even this «around»… along with the rest of the geometry?!

And indeed: the eye – or whatever I have – does not notice anything in front of itself… and in all other directions. Not even a classic white veil or the same classic impenetrable darkness. There is only – and also the classic – «the presence of absence». Here, really: «I go out alone on the road…"! Well, about the road – it’s me too… so: what, there, to hell, the road!

I will not lie: I feel uncomfortable… or not for «something», that personifies my essence now. For the stealth hat, I don’t think: it’s unlikely, that I was supplied with a fabulous inventory. What is the point?! What then? Am I alone really, and this is my personal hell, the one that is taught to man by modern fiction? But why then I still am «not involved in the work» – as an application to the boilers and pans? Why do they allow me to spend my unproductive potential and working time?!

I get scared by these thoughts. All my life I have dreamed about loneliness, about peace, about philosophical silence, but now I am not happy without any «for some reason»! Probably, it was not about such loneliness, that «there was a speech» on my thoughts… «On my thoughts»… I am then processed again: maybe, I now consist only of thoughts? Maybe, I am just a memory of myself? No: I’m distracted by the theme of «myself, the present». The bearer of that memory is not given. Then who am I? And, most importantly – where am I? And more importantly: what I am? And finally – the most important thing: why am I here? If as a «consumable» – that’s unpleasant, but understandable. But if… Ah, here it is everything else that is… it is not clear. Totally incomprehensible!