I have never seen anything less like an earthly landscape. And she was glad when the lathered horses reached the top of the slope and trotted into the valley. There were no stately houses, no gardens - only rocks and brown, dead heather. Once a flock of black-nosed sheep was caught. Finally we passed a tiny village, low thatched houses that were huddled flat on the stony ground. Then we climbed the last slope, and the appearance of Blacktower appeared before my frightened eyes.

From the top of the slope, we came to a wide plateau, strewn with gravel, and passed the powerful walls into the courtyard, illuminated by flaming torches. Mrs. Cannon woke up, got out of her cloak and hurried to the door.

The door opened onto a stone-floored corridor that was even colder than outside. At times we could smell the kitchen, which convinced me that we were in the back of the house, not far from the kitchen. Mrs. Cannon trotted briskly ahead of me, passing corridor after corridor, and finally we proceeded through the doors into the hallway at the entrance to the house. Wooden floors were laid on the wild stone; moreover, there were carpets, for which fact my cold ankles were very grateful. There was a heavy oak door in one of the walls, which probably led to the front door, where carriages drove up. A pretty ladder led to the second floor.

“We only use the west wing,” Mrs. Cannon explained panting as she climbed the steps. “The rest of the house is in ruins, and then it's too, too big.

But the western wing alone seemed to me completely immense. The corridors here were also carpeted and lit with candles in wall brackets.

Finally Mrs. Cannon stopped in front of one of the doors and opened it.

- This is my room. No, do not sit down, my dear, while I will see if all the necessary arrangements have been made for you.

She pulled the bell, and soon one of the maids answered the bell. The girl was young, of strong build, her hair was decorated with linen braid, and she was dressed in a dark home dress with a white apron and cap. Her plump pink face would be pretty if she weren't so sullen.

“Come in and close the door,” Mrs. Cannon ordered her sharply. “Miss Gordon, this young girl’s name is Betty. She will answer your call the same way as mine. Well, speak up, you silly girl! - she added, and for a moment I thought that these words refer to me. - What room have you prepared for Miss Gordon?

- Red room, Mom.

- It is quite suitable. Come on, Betty, there's no point standing here with your mouth open; show Miss Gordon the red room.

The old lady had already settled down by the fire, placing both plump legs on the grate. I got up, not in the least surprised by her impudence; I already knew that Mrs. Cannon is a kind woman, but preoccupied primarily with her own convenience and comfort.

When I was already moving towards the door, she muttered through her doze:

“I'll dine here, Miss Gordon. Will you join me? Betty will lead you ...

I thanked her heartily, but I think the old lady fell asleep before the door closed behind me.

The red room, which was three doors down the hallway from Mrs. Cannon's, was as cheerful as her name. Fire danced in the hearth, casting warm reflections on the creamy curtains and curtains of the bed. The floor was covered with a bright Turkish carpet.

Betty barely closed the door behind us, and she immediately opened again. A gloomy-looking servant entered the room without knocking, without ceremony threw my load on the floor and left.

After unpacking my luggage, I pulled a chair over to the fire and sank down on it with a sigh of relief. Having warmed up, I was almost dozing when Betty returned.

“If you like, miss, I came to ask if you would like me to help you change your clothes?

- I'm dressed, thank you. If Mrs. Cannon dines with all the ceremony, she will have to excuse me.

- The owner sent me to say that you will dine with him.

The owner, in fact, I thought. My first reaction was protest. I opened my mouth to say that I was too tired to endure the formal dinner tonight. But then I realized that this was just naivety. I was not Mr. Hamilton's guest, I was at his office. The invitation contained an order.

Obediently, I dressed in my best dress, although its plunging neckline and short sleeves left my shoulders bare and exposed from the cold. But in any case, the black moire went very well to my hair, and the skirt rustled when I moved. I combed my hair up, tucking it into a tall crown, and letting some curls fall over my shoulders.

When I turned away from the dim reflection in the mirror, Betty stared at me with her mouth open.

- Does it suit me? I asked with a smile.

“You look so beautiful, miss!

I was right. She turned out to be quite pretty.

Shivering from the cold, I followed Betty into the living room. It was nice to know that in this house I already found a response in someone's soul, even if it was the soul of a servant. However, the living room amazed me. This is usually a room reserved for women, but this one did not contain any exquisite Dresden porcelain figurines or colored curtains. The furniture was old-fashioned and massive, crudely crafted and blackened from antiquity. The walls were hung with engravings of hunting subjects and bristled with the horns of poor dead deer. Strange, but only then did I first think of Mr. Gavin Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton had a daughter, so at one time he must have had a wife as well. Apparently he was a widower. But I kept wondering why his wife had never tried to furnish this room differently.

I could hardly look away from the stunning sight of Mrs. Cannon in evening dress to curtsey to my master. He hasn't changed; he was still wearing the same traveling coat and the same heavy boots that I had seen him in last night. He asked me how I had endured the trip, and I replied that it was good enough, although this, apparently, was superfluous. The conversation stalled. Mr. Hamilton devoted his full attention to the decanter of porter. Mrs. Cannon looked at him like a faithful dog who does not know exactly what was expected of her, and I warmed my legs by the fire.

We were invited to dinner by a rather strange man, disgusting looking, dressed in a dirty Scottish skirt and jacket. The tartan skirt interested me because I thought they were traditional Hamilton colors, but I could not clearly make out the pattern due to the splashes of dirt. An old servant led the procession, carrying a massive silver candelabrum, and we followed him into a more old part Houses. The corridor with stone floors and stone walls was like long cave... Cold drafts pierced him, making the candlelight flame dance wildly. I felt like I was walking ankle-deep in the snow. Finally the old man leaned his shoulder against the massive door, paneled, and we entered the dining room.

In the old house, this must have been the main hall. There were candles on the table, which was long enough to accommodate thirty guests at once, but they gave too little light to overcome the impressive cave darkness of the room. The beams of the ceiling were lost in the blackness, something like a giant cobweb dangling from them.

The food that had to be carried through all these cold corridors from the kitchen to the west wing hit our table cold. Mr. Hamilton did not seem to have paid any attention to this. He talked animatedly about the antiquities of the castle, and what I at first took for a spider web turned out to be torn flags and banners of the Hamiltons of the past. The owner also pointed out the portraits on the walls to me. I was ready to assume that they were there, but I could not see them. My legs turned to ice. As soon as I could, I immediately began giving signals to Mrs. Cannon, indicating that I was exhausted, and hoping that, having received my signal, she would guess that we could both leave and leave Mr. Hamilton alone with his wine. But she sat with her eyes closed, with the most vague smile. I started to climb.

Explanation (see also Rule below).

Here is the correct spelling.

There were no majesty mountains and rocks surrounded by clouds; it was the usual Russian space: fields, meadows, rare villages with thatched and wooden roofs.

In this sentence:

majesty - an adjective formed with the suffix –ENN–;

Surrounded - full participle with a prefix and a dependent word;

straw - an adjective formed with the suffix –ENN–;

wooden - an adjective, the word exception (НН, although it is formed with the suffix -ЯНН-).

Answer: 1234.

Answer: 1234

Rule: Task 15. Spelling N and NN in words of different parts of speech

RIGHT-IN-PI-SA-NIE-N - / - NN-IN ONE-PERSONAL CHA-STYA SPEECH.

Tra-di-tsi-he-but is the most difficult topic for students, since substantiated na-pi-sa-nie N or NN is possible -but only with the knowledge of mor-pho-lo-gi-ches and words-in-ob-ra-zo-va-tel-zo-kons. Ma-te-ri-al "Inquiries" summarizes and si-ste-ma-ti-zi-ru-et all the right-vi-la topics N and NN from school textbooks and gives additional information from V.V. Lo-pa-ti-na and DE Ro-zent-ta-la in the volume that is not-we-go-dim for you-complete-not-nia of the USE.

14.1 N and NN in churn-out pr-la-ga-tel-ny (ob-ra-zo-van-ny from the names of the nouns).

14.1.1 Two NN in suf-fik-sakh

In suf-fik-sakh, it is written NN, if:

1) pri-la-ha-tel-ny-ra-zo-va-but from the su-n-t-tel-n-th with the os-no-howl on H with the help of suf-fik- sa N: tumAN + N → tu-man-Ny; car-man + H → car-man-Ny, car-man + H → car-man-N-Ny

old-fashioned (from old-Na + H), carat-ny (from card-ti-Na + H), deep-bin-ny (from deep-bi-Na + H), di- co-wine (from di-co-vi-Na + N), not-du-zhin-ny (from du-zhi-Na + N), true (from is-ti-Na + N ), bar-shchin-ny (from bar-shchi-Na + N), communal (from commun-na + N), long (from lengthNa + H)

Note: the word "strange" from the point of view of the modern language does not have suf-fik-sa N in its composition and does not appear nym to the word "country". But it is possible to explain the NN thread: a person from a foreign country thinks that it’s ina -ron-nim.

These-mo-lo-gi-che-ski can be explained by the word “genuine”: true in Ancient Rus na-zy-va it was true, yes, I’m under-su-di-my go-to-ril "under the long-ni-ka-mi" - especially long-ni-ka-mi or whip-ta-mi.

2) pri-la-ga-tel-no-ra-zo-va-but on behalf of the su-sh-tel-tel-no-go by adding-bav-le-ni-em suf-fik-sa -ENN -, -HE N: kluk-vEN-Ny (kluk-va), re-vo-lu-qi-ON-Ny (re-vo-lu-tion), tor-same-stEN-Ny (tor-same).

Ex-key: wind-rEN-Ny (but: without-wind-rEN-Ny).

Note:

Meet the words-names are pri-la-ha-tel, in which H is a part of the root. These words need to be remembered. They did not come from the names of the nouns:

baggy, green, spicy, drunk, pork, red, ruddy, young.

14.1.2. In suf-fik-sakh pri-la-ha-tel-ni-shet-Xia N

In suf-fik-sakh pri-la-ha-tel-ni-shet-Xia N, if:

1) when-la-ha-tel has a suf-fix -IN- ( go-lo-bI-Ny, we-shI-Ny, co-lo-vy-Ny, t-ry-Ny). Words with this suf-fik-som often have the meaning “whose”: go-lo-bya, mouse, sol-vya, tiger.

2) when-la-ha-tel-noe has suf-fik-si -AN-, -YAN- ( dog-cha-ny, ko-zA-Ny, ov-sYa-Ny, earth-lYa-Noy). Words with this suf-fik-som often have the meaning "made of what": from sand, from leather, from oats, from earth.

Ex-keys: glass-lYAN-Ny, olo-vYAN-Ny, de-re-vYAN-Ny.

14.2. N and NN in suf-fik-sakh words, ob-ra-zo-van-nyh from the head-lovers. Full forms.

As is known, from the heads there can be ob-ra-zo-va-nas and pri-parts, and the names are pr-la-ha-tel-ny (= nye pri-la-ha-tel-nye). Pra-vi-la na-pi-sa-nia N and NN in these words are different.

14.2.1 NN in suf-fiq-s of full pri-parts and full-length pri-la-ga-tel

In suf-fik-sah, full pri-parts and voiced pri-la-ga-tel-s are written NN, if I would like to ONE of the conditions:

1) the word ob-ra-zo-va-no from gl-go-la so-top-shen-no-kind, WITH OR WITHOUT, for example:

from the gl-go-lov bu-to-drink, you-to-drink (what to do? buy-lin-ny, you-buy-lin-ny;

to throw from the head, to throw (what to do ?, a better view): bro-shen-ny-for-bro-shen-ny.

The attachment does NOT change the type of attachment and does not affect the suf-fik-sa. Any other attachment gives the word a perfect look

2) in the word there is suf-fik-si -OVA-, -EVA- even in words of a non-so-top-shen-no-type ( ma-ri-no-VAN-Ny, as-fal-ti-rO-VAN-Ny, av-to-ma-ti-zi-rO-VAN-Ny).

3) with the word, about-ra-zo-van-nom from the gl-go-la, there is a-vi-si-my word, that is, it turns into a pri-private revolt, For example: mo-ro-wife-Noe in ho-lo-dil-ni-ke, var-rEN-Nye in bo-lo-no).

AT-ME-CHA-NIE: In cases, when the full attachment goes to the specific preposition in the name of the g-tel-noe, na-pi-sa-nie do not me-nya-sya. For instance: Excited with this co-community, the father spoke loudly and did not hold back his emotions. You-de-len-ny word is a part-part in a pri-private about-ro-those, excited how? this co-community... Me-nya-em pre-lo-ze-ness: His face was Vzvol-no-vaN-Nym, and there is no more part, no about-ro-that, for the face cannot be "excited", and this is a name that is attached. In such cases, they say about the pe-re-ho-de of the pri-la-ha-tel-nye, but on-pi-sa-nie NN this fact does not influence in any way.

More examples: De-wush-ka was very or-ga-ni-zo-vaN-Noy and vos-pi-taN-Noy... Here both words are appli-la-ha-tel names. De-vush-ku is not "ob-ra-zo-va-li", and she is always vos-pi-tan-naya, this is a hundred-yang-ny signs. From-me-nim pre-statement: We are in a hurry to meet-chu, or-ga-ni-zo-vaN-Nuu partners. Mom, vos-pi-taN-Naya is strict, and we are vos-pi-you-wa-la just as strict... And now you-de-fenced words are a part.

In such cases, in a statement to the task, we write: pr-la-ha-tel-noe, ob-ra-zo-van-noe from pri-part or pri-la-ha-tel, pe-re-shed-neck from pri-part.

Ex-key: not-expected, not-ha-given, not-seen-given, not-heard-khan-ny, not-cha-yang-ny, med-len- ny, ot-cha-yan-ny, sacred, desired..

Note the fact that words have gone out of the row of keys count-ta-Nye (mi-nu-you), de-la-Noe (equal-no-soul-shie)... These words are pi-jester-Xia in general pra-vu-lu.

Add more words here:

co-va-ny, nibbled, chewed eva / ova are included in the composition of the root, this is not suf-fiq-sy to write NN. But with the appearance of the p-joke, in general, the right-to-see: chewed-out, pod-ko-vaN-Ny, isklevaN-Ny.

one N. Comparatively: ra-nEN-Ny in battle(two N, in what-mu-that appeared for-wi-si-my word); from-ra-nEN-Ny, kind of top-notch, there is an attachment).

clever to define the kind of a word is difficult.

14.2. 2 One N in the

In suf-fik-sakh, from-vow-gol-ny-la-ga-tel-nyh-si-s-sh-xya, if:

the word ob-ra-zo-va-but from gl-go-la not-so-ver-shen-no-th form, that is, from-ve-cha-em to the question what about the subject de la li? and with the word in the pre-lo-ze-nii, there are no vy-vy-si-my words.

tu-she-noe(his tu-shee-li) meat,

stri-zHE-Nye(their haircut-whether) hair-lo-sy,

boiled(his wa-ri-li) car-to-fel,

lo-ma-naya(her lo-ma-li) line,

stained(his mo-ri-li) oak (dark in re-zul-ta-te special-qi-al-noy processing),

BUT: as soon as these words, when-la-ha-tel-ny, appear-la-et-sya for-vi-si-my word, they immediately re-go in a row when -part and pi-joke with two N.

tu-shEN-Noe in du-hov-ke(his tu-shee-li) meat,

stri-wives-no-long ago(their haircut-whether) hair-lo-sy,

va-rEN-Ny for a couple(his wa-ri-li) car-to-fel.

ONE-LI-TEA-TE: the pri-parts (on the right) and the pri-la-ha-tel-ny (on the left) have different meanings! Big-shi-mi buk-va-mi you-de-le-ny stressed vowels.

called brother, called sister- man-century, not one-of-a-kind in bio-logistic kinship with this man, but agreeing to brotherly (sister's) relations, good-ro-vol-no.- nA-called by me address;

planted father (using the role of ro-di-te-la same-ni-ha or not-ve-sta with sva-deb-n-rya-de). - in-sA-feminine at the table;

pri-dA-noe (property, yes-va-e-my not-ve-ste her family for life in za-mu-zh-nstvo) - prI-given shi-kar-ny view;

Narrow-ny (so n-zy-va-yut same-ni-ha, from the word fate-ba) - a narrow skirt, from the word narrow, make it narrow)

Forgiven vos-kres-se-nye (re-li-gi-oz-ny holiday) - forgiven by me;

pi-sa-naya krasa-vi-tsa(epi-tet, fra-zeo-logism) - pi-san-naya mas-lom car-ti-na.

14.2.3. Na-pi-sa-nie N and NN in complex pr-la-ga-tel

In the composition of the complex word na-pi-sa-nie from-gla-gol-no-go pr-la-ha-tel-no me-nya-sya:

a) the first part of the ob-ra-zo-va-na from the head-lovers of the not-so-top-shen-no-type, so-chit, we write N: smooth-to-beautiful-shE-Ny (paint-sit), go-ry-che-ka-ta-Ny, home-mo-tka-Ny, pest-ro-tka-Ny, evil-that-wea-Ny (weave); goal-but-cut-E-Ny-it-it), evil-then-to-va-Ny (to-vat), little-ez-zHE-Ny (ez-dit), little-ho- W-Ny (walk), little-but-w-Ny (but-sit), little-salty (co-pour), fine-crushed (draw-beat), fresh extinguished (ga-sit), fresh-mo-ro-zHE-Ny (mo-ro-zit) other.

b) the second part of the complex word ob-ra-zo-va-na from the pri-voch-th head-go-la of the so-top-shen-no-kind, that means, we write NN: smooth O beautiful ( O paint), fresh per mo-ro-wife-Ny ( per mo-ro-zit), etc.).

In the second part of complex forms, it is written N, although there is an attachment PERE-: gl-same-Nye-pe-re-gl-same-Nye, la-ta-Nye-pe-re-la-ta-Nye, but-she-Ny-pe-re-no-she-Ny, sti- ra-Noe-pe-re-sti-ra-Noe, arrow-la-Ny-pe-re-arrow-la-Ny, shto-pa-Noe-pe-re-shto-pa-Noe.

Thus, you can complete the task by al-go-rit:

14.3. N and NN in short pri-la-ga-tel-ny and short pri-parts

Both the attachments and the attachments have not only full, but also short forms.

Pra-vi-lo: In short, there is always one N.

Pra-vi-lo: In short appendices, there is as much H as in full form.

But in order to take-the-thread of the right-vi-la, you need time-to-li-ch-la-ha-tel-nye and ad-part.

ONE-LI-TEA-TE short pri-la-ga-tel-nye and accessory:

1) on the issue: short pri-la-ha-tel-nye - what is it? ko-va? how-to-you? how-to-in? how-to-you ?, a short ad-part - what have you done? what have you done? what is done? what have you done?

2) by knowledge(a brief accessory has to do with the action, you can replace the thread with the head; a short application gives ha-rak -te-ri-sti-ku defining-de-la-e-my word, about the action is not co-general);

3) on-li-chiyu for-wi-si-my-th word(short attachments do not and cannot have, short attachments have).

Brief details	Short pri-la-ha-tel
na-pi-san (ras-skaz) m. genus; what have you done? by whom?	boy ob-ra-zo-van (what is it?) -from the full form ob-ra-zo-van-ny (what?)
na-pi-sa-na (book) railroad; what have you done? by whom?	de-voch-ka ob-ra-zo-van-na (ka-ko-va?) - from the full form ob-ra-zo-van-naya (which one?)
na-pi-sa-no (co-chi-no-nie) Wed genus; what did-la-but? by whom?	child ob-ra-zo-van-no (ka-ko-vo?) -from the full form ob-ra-zo-van-no (what?)
ra-bo-you na-pi-sa-ny, pl. number; what have you done? by whom?	children ob-ra-zo-van-ny (ka-ko-you?) -from the full form ob-ra-zo-van-ny (what?)

14.4. One or two Ns can be written in na-speeches.

In na-re-chi-yakh in -O / -E, there are as many H as there are in the original word, For example: calmly with one H, since in pr-la-ha-tel-n calm suf-f-fix N; slowly with NN, since in pri-la-ha-tel-n slow HH; enthusiastically with NN, since in part infatuated NN.

With the seemingly non-complexity of this right-vi-la, there is a problem of blemishness, some pri-parts and short pri-la-ha-tel-nyh. For example, in the word co-wed-do-to-che (N, NN) it is not possible to choose one or another nap-sa-ness WITHOUT knowing than this word is in the pre-word or word-in-so-che-ta-nii.

ONE-LI-TEA-TE short pri-la-ha-tel, short pri-parts and speeches.

1) on the issue: short pri-la-ha-tel-nye - what is it? ko-va? how-to-you? how-to-in? how-to-you ?, a short ad-part - what have you done? what have you done? what is done? what have you done? na-speech: how?

2) by knowledge(a brief accessory has to do with the action, you can replace the thread with the head; a short application gives ha-rak -te-ri-sti-ku defining-de-la-e-my word, about the action is not co-general); in-speech denotes a sign of action, as it proceeds)

3) by role in the pre-lo-gion:(short pri-la-ga-tel-nye and short-creep

from-but-sit-Xia to gl-go-l and y-e-th-th-th-th-th-th-th)

14.5. N and NN in the names of the nouns

1.In the nouns (as well as in the short appendices and in the speeches), there is as much H as in pri-la-ga-tel-nyh (pri-part-sti-yah), from which they form-ra-zo-va-ny:

NN	N
captive (captive)	nef-ty-nik (nef-ty-noy)
ob-ra-zo-van-nost (ob-ra-zo-van-ny)	go-sti-ni-tsa (go-sti-ny)
from-gnan-nik (from-gnan-ny)	vet-re-nick (vet-re-ny)
leaf-vein-ni-tsa (leaf-vein)	poo-ta-ni-tsa (pu-ta-ny)
vos-pi-tan-nik (vos-pi-tan-ny)	spice (spicy)
gu-man-nost (gu-man-ny)	dog-cha-nick (dog-cha-ny)
high-high-ness (high-high)	smoked (smoked)
urav-no-ve-shen-ness (urav-no-ve-shen-ny)	tasty mo-ro-same (mo-ro-same)
pre-given (pre-given)	tor-fyanik (tor-fya-noy)

From the names of pri-la-ha-tel-ra-zo-va-ny and the word

kindred / ik from kindred, side-ronn / ik from sides, one-mouse-lenn / ik from one-mouse-lenn, (evil-intentional-lenn / ik, co-intentional-lenn / ik), became-lenn / ik from imposed-len-ny, drowned-lenn / ik from drowned-len-ny, numerical / ik from numerical, co- paternal / ik from compatriot) and many others.

2. Su-ness-tel-tel-nye can also form-a-zo-vy-vat-Xia from the head-heads and other names of s-ness-tel-tel-nye.

Pishet-sya NN, one N is included in the root, and the other in the suf-fix.	H *
fraud / nickname (from the purse, what does the bag, wallet mean)	toil / enik (from toil)
friend / nick (from friend)	torment / enik (from mu-chit)
raspberry / nick (ma-li-na)	powder / enitsa (from powder)
name-nin / nick (names-ni-ny)	birth / enitsa (to give birth)
cheating / nickname (from me-na)	brother-in-law / s / nits / a
nephew	var / enik (var-rit)
devil-pri-dan / nitsa	BUT: pri-da-noe (from pri-give)
insomnia	student
aspen / nick	imp-silver / enik
ringing / beating	silver-re / nick

Note to the table: * Words that are pi-joking with N and at the same time are not derived from pr-la-ha-tel-ny (pri-parts) in Russian language is unique. They need to be learned by heart.

Pishet-Xia NN and in words traveler(from pu-te-she-to-vat), predecessor(pre-march)

Until 1812 this ancient city in Jordan was lost to modern world... The magnificent Petra, carved by skillful architects right into the rocks, amazes with an incredible play of light and shadow: local temples, local houses and passages in the rocks are made of red sandstone, which creates such an effect. Among the red sandstones of the desert, the city carved into the rock looks like a real fairy tale.

- this is a journey that is never forgotten. But how did the ancient people manage to build such a magnificent structure?

It is known that the Nabataean tribe by the first century AD became the most skillful stone craftsmen. The very name Peter is translated from Greek as a stone.

The whole city seems to be hidden in the narrow Siq canyon. You can get to the territory of Petra only through the gorges located in the north and south. From the east and west, the city is reliably protected by steep cliffs, the height of which reaches sixty meters.

The famous treasury of the pharaoh Al-Khazneh was originally the temple of the goddess Isis. This mausoleum is considered the greatest example of ancient architecture - architects still do not understand exactly how the Nabateans managed to hew out such an incredible structure without using scaffolding.

Another amazing building is located outside the city limits. Ad-Dair - the rock temple is a monumental building that is entirely carved into the mountain.

For centuries, trade routes have brought Peter incredible money. From the side of the Persian Gulf, caravans laden with spices flocked here, and on the way to Damascus, traders brought to Petra gems and silk. The discovery by the Romans of the sea route to the East was the beginning of the end of the great city: the land trade in spices dried up and Petra gradually became empty.

Alas, only these architectural monuments remained from the former wealth and splendor of the Nabataean Empire. Bedouins graze their goats outside the walls of what was once the region's greatest city, and adventurous Arabs ride camels for little Americans.

Only for the Bedouins, Petra is not a miracle, but a simple business. Every year millions of tourists from all over the world flock to Jordan just to see this splendor with their own eyes.

Start + First quests

Coming out of the dean's office, Artem looked at the coveted "brick" in the student's book. Well, the session is closed. There are two months of summer ahead. Classmates happily humming along moved in the direction of the nearest bar. After seeing them with melancholy eyes and sighing heavily, Artyom moved decisively in the opposite direction. There was work ahead. Taking a shortcut through the courtyards, he stopped at a colorful poster that adorned the wall shopping mall... A huge spaceship surrounded by bright stars. Meteorite craters adorned his armor in some places. Some segments of the cladding were smoked, once raging fires. The nozzles of the propulsion engines had long gone out, but the ship still continued on its way through space. "The ark". Place of his future work. Virtual world"Ark" has become an excellent alternative to those players who are fed up with sugary elves, brutal orcs and gnomes puffing through their beards with beer fumes. There were no stately castles, no gingerbread houses and other fantasy delights. There was a giant colonial ship here. Its numerous decks and compartments, abandoned hangars and destroyed greenhouses. And all this is inhabited by mutated flora, aggressive xenofauna, demented rembots, fighting cyborgs and deadly viruses. Numerous NPCs were given the role of descendants of the surviving crew. Well, the players were those failed colonists, whose bodies were immersed in cryo-compartment capsules.

Also behind the Ark? - Thoughtful Artyom did not even notice how he entered the trading floor. And he practically buried himself in a sales assistant.

Walking in the morning towards the ill-fated cryo-compartment, Artyom did not decide what to do. On the one hand, if you complete the task of the bartender, then as a reward, in addition to experience and money, Ferum will activate the "basics of cooking" skill for you. With its help, it will be possible to cook food of the first level. Hunger is one of the important characteristics of a character that must be monitored. As soon as hunger reaches the so-called "red" zone, stamina automatically begins to decrease. With it, the speed of movement also decreases, which in the conditions of the "Ark" often means death. Considering the prices of purchased food, this skill should be one of the first to unlock. But despite the arguments of reason, Artyom was disgusted with the very idea of ​​completing this task. If you turn in the bartender to the sheriff, then instead of cooking, the scanning skill opens. Which, with subsequent levels, is divided into branches "bioscanning" and "scanning mechanisms". Which will not hurt at all in the future. Some players advised not to bother with this task, but just buy these skills. But for Artyom, who came to the game for the sake of making money, the idea of ​​spending money where you can get it for free was also unacceptable. In general, having not made up his mind on the choice, Artem decided to first complete the task of the sheriff to destroy the rats.

Yesterday's corridor met with silence. Only the sound of closing doors behind my back. Artyom involuntarily looked around. The door looked rather shabby. The bottom is densely covered with deep scratches and dents. As if the rats had repeatedly tried to break into the living compartment. The corridor itself was deserted. Only some small debris littered the floor. Carefully moving forward, Artyom reached a crack in the wall, near which Lector's corpse was lying yesterday. The body was gone, only small pieces left over from the suit, and heavily nibbled boots. In the depths of the gap, the eyes of the rats, waiting for the next victim, were red.

Remembering the past battle, Artyom pondered. Yesterday, having killed a couple of rats, he himself was on the verge of death. The knife's damage was too low. It is necessary to somehow increase it or after each battle you will have to sit out for a long time, waiting for regeneration. So the time has come to see what yesterday he hurriedly raked into his pockets, in a smoky cryo-compartment. Thanks to the skill "melee weapon-1", you can use any suitable items as a weapon. And he clearly remembered at least one rather long, jagged fragment of the capsule.

There were three such fragments. Having half wrapped them with scraps of wires, I formed the handles. Admired the result:

Homemade knife. Level-1. Type: one-handed. Damage: 1-2. Durability 10/10

A notification immediately came:

Congratulations, you have independently discovered the skill "Create items-1".

A pleasant surprise. Not only did they not have to spend on the discovery of the skill, they also poured experience for each knife created.

Artyom, armed with two knives, approached the breach step by step. Trying to take small steps to break the aggro zone of only one of the rats. The creatures did not move. Only red eyes continued to glow in the darkness. Finally, the invisible barrier was broken. Immediately there was a disgusting squeak and a rat rushed at him from the gap. He stepped back a little, so as to guarantee not to aggro the others and lunged towards the approaching creature. The vile creature squealed and tried to bite the hand, but was met with a blow from the second knife. Working furiously with two knives, Artyom furiously slashed the screeching creature. Torn flesh sloshed wetly under the blows. With a last squeak, the rat collapsed to the floor.

And then it went like a conveyor belt. Approaching the failure, grabbing the rat and leaving, then beat it up in a safe place. With every rat killed, its tail regularly fell. A failure in the well-oiled work of killing rats came on the seventh corpse. Artyom habitually stretched out his hand, touching only that killed creature. She also habitually disintegrated into dust, leaving behind a tail. It was not customary that the tail fell out more than one. A piece of meat lay next to him. In confusion, he picked up a piece, turned it over in his hands, reading the description given by the system:

Piece of meat. Level: 1. Type: resource. Description: A piece of meat that is a bit harsh, but good for cooking.

Hmm .. A piece of meat. I wonder what the bartender had about the requirements? Hastily began flipping through the mission log. "Bring ten pieces" and not a word about whose meat should be. Is there really a third way out of a difficult situation? But for this you need to get nine more.

Cheered up, Artyom enthusiastically set to work on the next rat. One tail fell out again. And with the next one too. During the fight with the tenth, a homemade knife broke. It just crumbled to dust with the next blow. Having mentally punished myself to always continue to monitor the strength of weapons and clothing, I spent the rest of the battle with one knife. Finally, the tenth rat crumbled to dust, leaving only a tail in Artyom's hands. The message that appeared made me think.

The required number of items was obtained (rat tail 10/10). Present them to the sheriff of compartment # 317 for your reward.

But still he decided to continue the rat genocide. After all, you still need to check the version about meat for the bartender.

The rats in the breach are over. Or they were far enough away not to react to a nearby Artyom. I had to climb there myself. A real burrow began in the gap. The space between the two corridors was filled with various structural spacers and sealing material. It was through the seal that the rats made their way. Having dropped to all fours and holding a knife in front of him, he crawled along the hole. The darkness and narrowness of the manhole made him feel all the delights of claustrophobia. Added to this was the fear of bumping into rats in the cramped quarters. Therefore, falling out of the hole into some corridor, Artyom smiled happily.

The corridor had a clearly technical purpose. Bundles of wires and fiber optic cables curled from above. Along the walls were batteries of different caliber pipes. At regular intervals there were niches filled with shelves. Having walked about fifty meters along this corridor and having obtained a couple of more tails, Artyom went out onto a small platform in the center of which there was a protrusion of a large hatch with a locking wheel at the top. It was pushed to the side and through the crack the ladder brackets were visible, going down. Without hesitation, Artyom dived into the hatch and began to descend quickly.

Below was the same platform and battle was raging on it. About a dozen rats surrounded a player and violently attacked. However, the player himself did not care at all. Armed with a piece of pipe with barbed wire wound around it, he spun around with a snake, blowing right and left. At the same time, he still managed to bawl some kind of children's song, not worrying about breathing at all.

Stand up children, stand in a circle

Stand in a circle, stand in a circle.

The words of the song, the squeak and squealing of rats, the chomping sounds of the blows of the trumpet on the living, all this created an indescribable sound cacophony. And although by the appearance of a stranger, you cannot say that he needed help. Artyom could not remain an outside spectator and, issuing some kind of warlike cry, rushed to the rescue.

The extreme pair of rats had not yet had time to take damage from an unfamiliar player, so they easily switched to the approaching Artyom. The stranger only shook his head at the arrival of help and stopped singing. His pipe continued to beat down the rats' backs with the frequency of rain. Here, screaming, one fell. The second one fell apart almost immediately. By this time, Artyom also finished off his first opponent. The experience gained over the morning in rat-fighting tactics made itself felt. Artyom was constantly moving, preventing the creatures from attacking at the same time. And focusing all the damage on one of them. Having finished off the last one, he looked back at the player. I realized with surprise that the one to whom he rushed to help turned out to be a girl. If it is, of course, in relation to the player playing for the cyborg race. But despite belonging to the "weaker" sex, she mastered her improvised bat masterly. The rough mechanism replacing her left hand was some kind of analogue of a stun gun. The discharges, periodically breaking off from him, made the rats numb and convulse. Those few who nevertheless burst right up to her, powerlessly scraped with their teeth, unable to bite through the skin. Probably some kind of protection was in effect.

Finally, the last creature let out its death squeak and collapsed onto the dirty floor. Now it is possible to examine the stranger in more detail. Pale, almost cyanotic, skin. The head is smooth as a billiard ball, covered with an intricate tattoo. The right eye was replaced with a cyber prosthesis, which immediately reminded Artyom of the first cameras. It was made in the form of the same accordion. And he was in constant motion, then retracting, then on the contrary moving apart for more accurate focusing. The rest of the facial features were simply lost against the background of this flickering.

Thank you for your help, of course, but I could have done it myself - and for clarity, I twirled the pipe. The cleaving air hummed.

Yes, not at all. There was no time to think, I saw how they already surrounded you.

I have tier 2 nanobots, "steel skin". The damage hardly goes away. I swallowed all the money, I didn't even have any weapons left. And I deliberately pulled the rats in a pile so as not to run after each one.

Such a statement even slightly offended Artyom. He then thought that he was in a hurry to help, but it turns out that he almost interfered. Turning away to the corpses of his rats, he touched his hand collecting loot. This time, luck was on his side and he got another piece of meat.

Sorry, got excited. Unselfish help is not often found here. - the girl had already collected her share of the booty and now stood holding out her hand.

Peace? My name is Blonde.

A funny nickname given the bald head. Artyom smiled and shook the outstretched hand.

And I am Temnik.

How did you end up here? Didn't seem to see you at the entrance to our sector.

I'm looking for meat.

Is hunger backing up? - Sympathetically asked the Blonde - wait, I now. - and began with enthusiasm to rummage in a small backpack.

Here you go, this is a standard ration. Just enough for a day. - she handed Artyom a brownish-brown briquette.

Uh ... uh, thanks of course, but I don't need meat for food, but for a task. At first I hunted in the upper corridor, but there the rats ran out, I had to climb here.

Told the Blonde about the rat hole. At the same time sharing my problem with the assignment. The blonde turned out to be a completely different starting script. Having entered the game, she found herself in a hospital ward, where she lay after an unsuccessful operation to implant an eye prosthesis. According to the script, something went wrong during the operation and she lost her memory. In general, she did not have such an extreme start as Artyom. And she killed rats for their tails. They not only brought money, but also raised the reputation of the head of repairmen.

I want to open the skill "transport", but without a high reputation only for money.

So they walked talking and gnawing rations. And destroying the rats he met. The mountain of tails grew. Cuts of meat were also added. Now there were eight of them, ten minutes later another one was added. And then the corridor ended. They came to the rubble blocking their further path. Some kind of boxes, remnants of shelving, strips of metal, plastic panels - everything was dumped into a huge barricade. There was no question of getting through it. Even Artyom with his physique could not penetrate into the narrow gap remaining under the ceiling.

How much meat is still missing? - The Blonde asked busily.

One. - Artyom looked sadly at the rubble.

So we will look for a workaround. Rats make their way. So there must be another way.

They walked slowly back down the corridor, carefully examining the walls. We noticed a workaround together. More precisely, he was prompted by a rat leaning out of the ventilation box that stretched under the ceiling. The rat twisted its nose and, not detecting danger, jumped onto a nearby rack, from it to the floor and cheerfully trotted along the corridor. But she was not allowed to go far. The electric shock made her freeze, and two knives and a club crumbled to dust. For more detailed study finds had to climb onto the rack.

You know, it wasn't the rats who broke the panel. It was unscrewed by someone. Look, even the bolts have been hooked back so that they are not lost. - With these words, the blonde climbed into the hole to the waist.

Well, what is there?

You can't see a damn thing. Now I'll tune the flashlight. She rummaged in her prosthesis. And the dusk of the corridor cut through a bluish beam of light.

The light beam was narrow, but quite bright. The blonde disappeared into the pipe again.

Now it's all clear. There is a fan in front, you can see the panel was removed to get admission to the mechanism for repair.

Is it possible to climb through?

The blonde looked doubtfully at the frozen blades - I'll try. - with these words she completely disappeared from sight. For several minutes, her concentrated panting was heard from the hole,

Crawl here.

Without keeping himself waiting, Artyom easily pulled himself up in his arms and climbed into the hole. The flashlight beam flashed from wall to wall, allowing you to navigate well. Working with his elbows, he quickly reached the fan. The gap between the blades allowed for further penetration.

In my opinion, I hear a rat squeak! We'll get your last piece soon. The blonde's voice was excitedly excited. She quickly moved along the pipe towards the rubble. Artyom had no choice but to follow her and try to keep up. The thought of being alone in the dark made me shiver. But then light appeared ahead, penetrating through another removed panel. At the same time, a noticeable narrowing of ventilation was seen. And you can hardly penetrate further. For a moment, the light obscured the silhouette of the Blonde sliding out. A couple of moments later Artyom got out too. They were on the other side of the rubble. On this side, it was flatter, which allowed rats to enter the duct without any problems.

The corridor stretched for another ten meters, and further its walls diverged to form a small, rounded room. And from there came a rather loud rat squeak. A similar squeak was emitted by the rats rushing into the attack. After exchanging glances, a couple of friends cautiously moved forward. The view elicited an astonished sigh from the Blonde. Artyom was more eloquent:

I think I now understand the saying about locomotives which should have been killed while they were teapots.

Most of the room was occupied by a rat. More precisely, even so - RAT. The hefty creature was almost as tall as Artyom. Long incisors protruded from the mouth by thirty centimeters. Powerful claws and thick, bumpy tail. Like its smaller relatives, it was practically hairless. Purulent abscesses and oozing ulcers dotted her skin. The monster stood at the far wall and was clearly waiting for something. She didn't even react to the frozen players.

The blonde slowly pulled off her backpack. She rummaged in it and took out two syringes. One of them held out to Artyom.

So the time has come for "heavy artillery". This will spur our regeneration twice, but only for a couple of minutes. Therefore, during this time, it is desirable to finish off the creature. This is probably the rat boss.

Taking the stimulant and checking the condition of the weapon, the couple rushed at the rat with a cry. The creature reacted instantly to their approach. With a loud squeak, she hit her tail sharply. Having knocked down Artyom with a blow, she turned her head and grabbed the Blonde with her teeth. Jumping to his feet, Artyom managed to notice the discharge sparks hitting the rat in the face. And the Blonde is well done, she was not taken aback.

Get the thing! - and Artyom's knives rip open the wrinkled skin with a crack. The blonde wasted no time hooking her on the back with her pipe. Tail kick again. But this time the players were on their guard and the blow goes by. The shock hits the rat, causing it to fall to the floor in convulsions. Until the effect passes, Artem punches the bare belly with knives. The rat has come to its senses and the wide shovels of the front incisors are thrust into his leg. Despite the injected stimulant, health immediately sags by a third.

Banzai !! - Blondes pipe falls on one of the monster's paws. The crunch of bones is clearly audible. This reduces agility a little, making the rat more clumsy. Artem immediately changes his tactics. Run up, hit, move to the side, hit again, dodge the tail. And circle, circle around, not allowing teeth to be used again. Another shock hits the rat in the head and it shudders and falls dead.

Congratulations! You have received a new level. Current level: 3. Skills available for study: resource gathering-2, pistols-1, equipment-1, cold steel-2.

Immediately activate the collection of resources, the rest can wait for now. Judging by the Blonde, she also got a level and is now studying the available skills. Walking around the dead rat and again amazed at its size, Artyom went to the far wall of the room. He wondered what the creature was guarding there. Once there was a passage here, but now the path was blocked by a powerful lattice, welded from thick rods. With a cell size of fifteen centimeters. She served as an obstacle for something large. Further examination was interrupted by the Blonde.

It's time to start cutting the pie, - and rubbing her hands in anticipation, she moved towards the rat, while humming softly:

Give me your hands

Give me your lips

But when she saw Artyom's dumbfounded gaze, she shyly fell silent. And she touched the fallen body with the most serious expression on her face. This victory brought the long-awaited tenth piece of meat, as well as thirty credits each. With a pleasant jingle, I received a message about the replenishment of the account. Artyom, still standing by the grate, smiled with satisfaction. My leg was seized with pain. The system duplicated the message about the received damage. He turned sharply, eyes darting in search of the enemy. Slipping easily between the bars of the lattice, a beetle the size of a palm was mincing towards him. Most of all he looked like an ugly ant. Unnaturally large, half-body, head armed with sharp mandibles. Without risking to bend over, Artyom simply kicked the bug off with his foot. To his surprise, this had an unexpected result. The overgrown ant died. After his death, players received a crushed, chitinous shell as a trophy.

Carapace of a nomadic termite. Type: quest.

And then came the description of the quest.

Available quest: "termite threat". Description: Not long ago, the leader of a rat flock blocked the path of nomadic termites. But he fell in battle and now nothing keeps termites from attacking the residential sector. It is necessary to warn the residents of Compartment No. 317 about the advancing enemy. Requirements: Deliver a nomadic termite shell and present it to the sheriff. Reward: 50 credits, 150 experience and 10 points of reputation with Slot # 317. To accept? Not really.

And the rat turned out to be not even a rat at all, but quite a guard dog. And then I kept thinking how she managed to eat so much in such a small room.

You can talk about this on the way back, but for now, do not linger here. - Artem pointed to another termite crawling through the grate.

The return trip was much faster. And it was much easier. Despite the fact that they lingered, replacing the unscrewed duct panels. As Blondinka explained - you shouldn't make life easier for insects.

Having got out into the familiar technical corridor, they did not climb, following the example of Artyom, through the rat hole, but went forward. After a little huffing, and going down the level, they reached a wide gate. The old, faded inscription informed about the entrance to the technical sector of compartment No. 317. Squeaking effortlessly, the doors parted, letting in friends. If Artyom got acquainted with the upper level more or less yesterday, then here for him everything was a wonder. Walking along the corridor, following the Blonde, he only had time to twist his head. There was a realm of mechanisms here, and the cyborgs who ran it all. From all directions came the grinding and heavy blows, the screeching of saws and grinders. From time to time there was the roar of horns and vehicles had to give way. The wide corridor was filled with people. Basically, these were of course cyborgs, but there were enough players and other races. And there were many times more various shops, shops and just street vendors than in the central hall, where Artyom visited. Along the walls were heaps of various parts, pieces of plastic panels, parts of droids, some kind of control panels. It seemed here you can buy anything you want. The blonde gave brief explanations as she walked, pointing with her finger: armors, gunsmiths, there are garages and droid repair shops, do not pay attention to transport - there is an exit to the main tunnels nearby. Finally, they stopped at the largest pile of parts. Leaving Artyom to stand, the Blonde dived through the open door. Waiting for the girl, he looked around. Several players were interestedly digging through the trash laid out, looking for the necessary parts. Sometimes a joyful exclamation was heard when pulling out the next find. All this was accompanied by questions: - Is it really ...? Same …!! To which the seller only smiled proudly, looking at the neighbors with an air of superiority. Suddenly from the open door came the wild cry of the Blonde. Jumping up in surprise, Artyom drew his knives and rushed to the rescue. But the picture he saw made me stop. It was not clear who needed help, and whether it was needed at all. The blonde happily circled the hall, squeezing some cyborg in her arms. Seeing Artyom, she left the unfortunate master alone, now circling with a partner. It was so unexpected that Artyom did not even have time to remove the weapon. So he circled, with the knives clutched in his hands. However, this did not bother the blonde at all. She was filled with joyful emotions.

I managed! You understand? Now I can create my own transport!

I must say that although the transport was in the game, it could only be used in the main tunnels. These tunnels ran through the entire Ark, entangling it with thread transport highways... They were not passable everywhere. Decks had collapsed somewhere. And in some it was impossible to break through from bandits of all stripes. Basically, this was the fault of the players, but there were also gangs consisting exclusively of NPCs. But despite the difficulties in the sectors already inhabited by the players, the main tunnels were used to quickly move between locations. Some clans have occupied a niche of transportation, carrying out regular passenger flights. And they willingly used such services, even though the prices were rather high. And not everyone can create their own transport. Someone lacks experience to discover the necessary skill, someone is simply lazy. So the discovery of the skill was truly an event.

Now Artyom pounced on the Blonde with congratulations. Their amusement was interrupted by the grumbling of the old master, whom everyone had forgotten about.

Oh, these young people. All of them dance to arrange, And who will talk to the sheriff?

Oh, really. We forgot about termites!

Master, how do you know?

The blonde immediately confessed embarrassedly, “I told everything, I just thought that since Master Hephaestus is on the council of the village, he must also know about the invasion.

Enough chatter! - the old master has already begun to get angry - well, go to the sheriff. Tell him that we will securely block the entrance. But until the termite uterus is destroyed, the threat will remain. Let him call volunteers.

Finding the sheriff was not the easiest thing to do. He was not at the post at the entrance to the upper level. Having looked at all the shops in the central hall, they did not find him either. The hallway was followed by nearby corridors. The valiant law enforcement officer was found only in the bar near Ferum.

Seeing Artyom enter, the bartender's lips curled into a vile grin. With a rather wink, he asked:

Why should I reheat a frying pan? Got some fresh meat?

Shrugging off the question, Artyom hurried to the Sheriff's table. As we progressed, the bartender's face grew more and more sullen.

What am I obliged to do? The sheriff looked up from the gorgeous chop. - Didn't you really rid us of these nasty rats?

At the sight of the fried meat, Artyom again remembered his suspicions. He was immediately confused. Unable to explain anything, he just laid the rat tails on the table.

Completed the mission "The Gray Invasion". Experience gained. Loans received. Reputation with the settlement "Compartment No. 317" has been increased.

Not really reading the messages of the system, Artyom still silently laid the shell of the termite on the table. The next message about the completed task was displayed. Seeing the state of her partner, the Blonde hastened to tell how they got it. As the story progressed, the sheriff's face grew darker and darker.

Damn it! Just coped with the rats, as a new attack! But if the security turrets coped well with the penetration of rats into the living compartment, then I'm afraid the rate of fire will not be enough for termites.

Master Hephaestus promised to securely block all exits. But he fears that while the uterus is alive, this will not help much and the residential sectors will be in a real siege.

Hearing this, the sheriff stood up resolutely - it would be necessary to announce a reward for the daredevils ready to eliminate the new threat.

As soon as he said this, the sound of sirens tore through the air. The text appeared before my eyes:

Attention! The local event "Termite Protection" has been launched. Restriction: only for players level 1-4. You are offered a task to eliminate the threat to Compartment No. 317, from nomadic termites. Reward: experience, depending on the contribution to the overall victory. 1 credit for each termite destroyed. 1000 credits for killing a termite queen. The location of the queen has been added to the map.

The same message was received by all the players present. The hall rustled approvingly. From everywhere listened to the noise of the hastily pushed back chairs. Players were leaving the bar hoping to be the first to reach the termites' queen.

Shall we go too? It will take money to build even a simple scooter.

Wait a minute. There is one more unfinished business left.

Artyom went up to the bartender. Ferum's face showed no emotion. He looked with complete calmness at the approaching player. But as the pieces of meat were laid out on the counter, his human half took on a menacing look. And the artificial eye did blaze like that of an evil demon.

What's this?

Meat, as you requested. - Despite the confident tone, Artyom did not feel confident.

The bartender picked up one of the pieces with his eerie-looking prosthesis. He looked him over carefully.

Did you bring me rat meat? His gaze grew even more ferocious. Artyom began feverishly to figure out whether it was better to take a hopeless battle or run away, hoping for agility in his legs. Something must have flashed across his face, because the bartender laughed deafeningly. The laugh seemed to transform Ferum. Transformed into a completely different person. Where is that vile type that gave Artyom the task. Or a sullen killer with a fanatical fire in his eyes, who appeared in front of him a minute ago. There is none of them. An ordinary grandfather sat in front of Artyom, scattering good-natured laughter.

Of course it's rat. There are simply no other animals here.

And why then were all these hints of human flesh?

The face of the killer returned again, and his gaze became cold, assessing. - What do you think?

Artyom, who was completely unsettled by all these metamorphoses, shrugged his shoulders.

The ark went on a flight a long time ago, and almost anyone was taken into the colonists, if they had arms and legs. Including took prisoners, giving them a chance for a new life. Of course, there was information about each colonist, but you yourself understand that time destroyed all the archives. And now that the timers on the capsules began to work en masse, it is necessary to somehow check people.

Some kind of cruel test.

Believe me, a real person will always find a way out. But how many scum were found. However, something I blabbed, you still have to fight with termites. Keep your reward.

Completed the "Meat for the Bartender" quest. Experience gained. Loans received. Increased reputation with the settlement "Compartment No. 317". Increased reputation with all playable races. Obtained the "Basics of Cooking" skill. Obtained the "Scanners" skill. New implant received (properties not known).

"Okoyomy Przemysl"

annotation

In his "History of the Russian State", in the second chapter (narration based on the Nestorov Chronicle), the outstanding Russian writer - sovereign, mentor, that is, the spiritual father of Pushkin Nikolai Mikhailovich Karamzin very clearly described the origin of the Slavic tribes.

« Many Slavs, - considered Karamzin, - tribesmen with the Lyakhs who lived on the banks of the Vistula, settled on the Dnieper in the Kiev province and were called glades from their clean fields. Such an ethnos disappeared in ancient Russia, but his name became the common name of the Poles, the founders of the Polish state.». « From the same tribe,- wrote Karamzin, - there were two brothers, Radim and Vyatko, the heads of the Radimichs and Vyatichs: the first chose a dwelling for himself on the banks of the Sozh, in the Mogilev province, and the second on the Oka, in Kaluga, Tula or Orel. The Drevlyans, so named from their forest land, lived in the Volyn province. It is still accepted to think so. And the neighbors of the Vyatichi tribe on the east side of the Oka and Zhizdra river basins were a tribe of skilful Krivichi».

On the map of modern Russian Federation territory Kaluga region It is sewn into the mosaic of the Central Federal District with a multi-petal carnation between 54 and 55 degrees north latitude and 36-37 degrees east longitude. About 4 percent of the region's area is occupied by the territory of the Przemysl region, located on the banks of the Oka to the south of the regional center.

According to the map of the modern Kaluga province, the location of the municipality "Peremyshl District" is in the east of the region. East and rapture are words similar in sound structure in Russian. The sunrise in the east of the sky delights the farmer. Therefore, the eastern end of the earth is the most beautiful. So it is in the land of Kaluga: its Przemysl region is delightfully beautiful!

The author of the excellent book in 1998 about Przemysl - a quiet district town of the Kaluga region - was Sergei Fedorovich Pitirimov, a man of active modesty, a wise, and therefore alien to any rhetoric and public relations lyric poet. He spoke with sincere love about his cultural predecessors. This is the forest professor Toursky, playwright and translator Lyubimov, the son of the chief of police and the most educated encyclopedist Brillianty.

In 2004, I took part in the elections to the Legislative Assembly of the Kaluga Region in the Przemysl constituency. During the pre-election period, as a campaign material, he wrote a documentary essay "Blue-eyed Oka - Russian Shores", published in 2004 in the form of a propaganda brochure by the printing house "Polygraphinform". The book "Okoyomy of Przemysl" is the fulfillment of a "candidate's" duty to voters from the banks of the Oka.

In this story, I tried to supplement my senior comrade and friend from the Kaluga Writers' Organization S.F.Pitirimov, who has been in Eternity since 2000. My contribution is information about the modern administrative structure of the municipality, a story about Tsiolkovsky's travels on a bicycle to the village of Korekozevo, as well as personal memories of the outstanding lyricists of Oka - Sergei Pitirimov, Anatoly Kukhtinov, journalist and poet Alexei Zolotin.

Chapter 7. The Eye of Culture

On the way to Przemysl

Month on the right side

Alexander Pushkin left to the Russian people not only genius poems, but also wonderful prose: dramas, stories and notes of a traveler. In the first chapter “ Travels to Arzrum "he wrote:" From Moscow I went to Kaluga, Belyov and Oryol, thus making 200 extra versts, but I saw Ermolov».

Perhaps, driving through the Przemysl fields, the poet once again indulged in the sadness of loneliness among the boundless expanses, and verses sounded in his heart:

I drove to you: living dreams
A playful crowd followed me,
And the month on the right side
Zealous accompanied my run.

Stay of A.S. Pushkin in the vicinity of Przemysl is nowhere noted, however, he could not bypass them on the trip in 1829, because his path ran along the old Kaluga-Kozelsky tract.

The brothers Kireevsky, Ivan Vasilievich and Pyotr Vasilievich, N.V. Gogol, A.K. Tolstoy, F.M.Dostoevsky, V.A.Zhukovsky, F.I. A. A. Fet, A. N. Apukhtin, M. M. Prishvin, who visited the Optina Monastery. LN Tolstoy stopped in Przemysl, making a trip to Shamordino and Optino.

Memory of the warm earth

The remarkable Russian writer I. Sokolov-Mikitov called his homeland - the Przemysl region - “Warm land” and always remembered it with the deepest fondness:

« The modest nature of the places where I spent the first years of my adult life did not shine with lush beauty. There were no majestic mountains and rocks surrounded by clouds, spectacular, seductive for artists, stunning panoramas. It was the usual Russian expanse: fields, forests, villages with thatched and wooden roofs overgrown with velvet moss, with dull little windows from which the pale faces of people peeped out. You drive, drive, it used to be dozens of miles, and no matter how it changes, the landscape around you hardly moves».

« From my mother, a Kaluga hereditary peasant woman, I borrowed love for the word, anxiety of character, from my father - love for nature, a lyrical make-up of the soul.

Trips with my father, walks in the forest, fishing in a quiet pond overgrown with water lilies, every cherished corner of which I still remember, the stories and tales of my father left an indelible impression. Together with my travel dreams, my father awakened in me a passion for hunting.».

“In the fate and tastes of each person, his childhood, the environment in which he lived, was brought up and grew up, is of great importance. The words that we hear from our mothers, the color of the sky we saw for the first time, the road running away into the distance, the overgrown river bank, the curly birch under the window of our home will forever remain in our memory ”.

Ivan Sergeevich Sokolov-Mikitov lived a long and difficult life. He was born on May 17 (29), 1892, and died on February 20, 1975.

Distant birds

In August 1950, the poet Bulat Shalvovich Okudzhava came to this region. In Shamordino, in a rural school, he taught Russian language and literature, many times he visited Przemysl and the surrounding villages. The impressions of being on the banks of the Oka were vividly reflected in the first book of the poet "Lyrics", published by the Kaluga book publishing house in 1956.

Bulat Shalvovich says:

Creative meetings with the prose writer Vladimir Koblikov, poets Valentin Ermakov, Mikhail Kuzkin are memorable for the workers of the region.

Oka-Russian woman

Khakas came by nationality from the banks of the Yenisei to the banks of the Oka to live, serve and write poetry. The last years of his life, Mikhail Kuzkin-Voronetsky spent in the village of Andreevskoye, where for many hours at all seasons he stomped on the high coastal terrace, mesmerized by the sublunary view of the Oka valley. He loved this land with all his heart and glorified it.

Kuzkin is a wonderful master of lyrical descriptions of the nature of the Kaluga region and passionate attitudes towards women.

... We sail to Tarusa along the big Oka,
And stays aloof behind us
Kaluga - a little stranger in the distance, -
Overwhelmed by hot forests.

The bend in the sun is so sharp
And the coast is receding so gently ...
Crawling among the oak trees like the smoke of a fire
A winding narrow road.

... The river distance is light and deep.
And the world is so open today! Right,
I never thought that Oka.
It is so full and dignified.

I look at the shores from under my arm
And I do not think for long in dismay:
How did you live, Russia, without the Oka -
With the Volga alone?

... I remember how by the end of summer in the very
in the middle of the day, when the heat has grown stronger,
Behind the yellow forests of the Oka
The shifted steppe opened up to the sky.

I was attracted by the field road ...
Sinking on a stone under a pine tree
I sat there for a long time, remembering
As the heat flowed around the hills.

... And you can see this steppe world to tears
dear to me because I will be soon
green whirlwind of sunny birches,
running along the highway on the slope.

And now, when forgetting about the vanity,
I look at the forest - is it near or far, -
As if I was looking at the appearance,
In which I will soon find eternity.

And therefore I kiss the red slope
Lands with oak trees in the sunshine,
What will be saved for future times
The mystery of my existence.

Translator Lyubimov

Theater town

The people of Przemyshl are rightfully proud of their wonderful fellow countryman, an outstanding writer and translator of fiction, Nikolai Mikhailovich Lyubimov, whose books adorn the shelves of many libraries, instill in readers a loving attitude to the Russian word, strengthen a sense of devotion to the motherland, and develop a subtle artistic flair.

In the Lyubimov family, who lived in the county town of Przemysl, there was a strong tradition - to give books on their birthday and on the name day.

In his biographical story of life, Lyubimov says:

« Our town has long been a theater town. From 22 to 30, in winter and summer, the efforts of rural teachers, high school students, students of technical schools and universities who come on vacation were staged performances under the guidance and participation of Sofia Iosifovna Melipova, a teacher of Russian language and literature, who later moved to Moscow and was awarded the order for her teaching activities Of the Red Banner of Labor and the Order of Lenin. And almost every performance of this community of amateurs became an event in the life of the town; he shook us up, enriched, awakened both thought and feeling, brought up artistic taste. The start of the performance was usually delayed. "Gallery" stomps and yells: "Time!" But then the prompter darted into his booth, the curtain crawled in both directions, and in front of the silent spectators at once, art is born, far from perfect, but genuine, in which it was impossible not to believe, the ingots of which I still take from the bottom of my memory. The scenery changed slowly, the intervals were shamelessly prolonged, and when the audience went home at dawn, the hostesses were already driving the cows into the herd. And then for several days you live as in a dream: inner hearing with echoes of voices, before your eyes - figures and faces. And my heart is sad: I was looking forward to this evening, and now it has already sunk. You console yourself with the fact that a month will pass - and again you will be seized by the inexplicable, like any magic, holy enchantments of the Theater, under the influence of which mankind has irresistibly strived to fall from ancient times.

Already the repertoire of this permanent group gives an idea of ​​its literary culture and daring. Here is some list of staged plays: "The Inspector General" and "Marriage", "Our people - we will be numbered!" "Tsar Fyodor Ioanovich", "Krechinsky's Wedding".

Sofya Iosifovna played mainly everyday roles, showing tenacious observation and a sense of humor. Her best role is the old witch Evdokia Antonovna in Days of Our Life. Oh, how scary she was! .. Especially in the third act, when persuading her own daughter to sell herself to von Rencken, she shouted at her:

- Slut! Rubbish! .. Who will buy you such? There are hundreds of people like you on the boulevard!»

« Taste in the field of theater was put on me as a child in Przemysl", - recalled N. M. Lyubimov.

Telephone communication with the future

When in 1923 a telephone connection was made to Soviet institutions in the regional center, a little theater fan began to climb into the office of the father of one of his friends, where he played a "conversation with Katchalov", admired his talent, expressed his love for the famous artist.

From a Moscow student, a talented provincial grew into a metropolitan figure of culture and art, a theater critic. Translator of foreign classical literature. In his creative practice, Lyubimov maintained a close connection with the very masters of the stage, with whom, in his childhood in Przemysl, he conducted imaginary discussions on the phone.

On the pages of his book of memoirs "Past Summer" N. M. Lyubimov gave amazingly accurate characteristics of the actors and their work. For example, Leonidov with his gaze "penetrates the public through and through", Knipper-Chekhova was "an example of internal external grace", Tarkhanov amazed with "an ideal comprehension of theatrical art", Pashennaya - "extreme expressiveness", Massalitinov - "the skill of reincarnation", Moskvin - " destruction of tradition ”.

The famous writer Veniamin Kaverin praised the work of the translator Lyubimov: “ Lyubimov translates so that his personality is visible behind the book. You need to be a little akin to Rabelais himself, so that behind the book we see the author, his laughter and bitterness, his mental scope, his irony, his faith in man».

Sage from Korekozev

Peasant intellectual

Ask any resident of Korekozev: "What is your village famous for?" The answers will vary. For instance:

- It is the longest in the Kaluga region - five kilometers.

- The first post-war order-bearers appeared here, and the collective farm chairman Prudnikov was a Hero of Socialist Labor.

- The buttercup monastery - according to legend, the oldest in our area.

- The first hydroelectric power plant in the region.

- This is the only village in Russia where three members of the USSR Writers' Union come from.

“And for me Korekozevo is also famous for the fact,” recalls one of them, the famous Kaluga journalist and poet Aleksey Petrovich Zolotin, “that a wonderful old man, a sage, a true rural philosopher Fyodor Kuzmich Pitirimov lived here. In November 1964, the Znamya newspaper, under the heading "Meetings with Interesting People", published my article "An Evening at Fyodor Kuzmich's" about him. This is how I presented it to the readers then:

« For a long time I was going to write about Fyodor Kuzmich Pitirimov, this "very correct person", in the words of fellow villagers, a communist, chairman of the Korekozevsky village council. He is one of the organizers of the May Day collective farm, he was at the helm for eight years, and when the farm grew larger and Grigory Nikolayevich Prudnikov was elected chairman, Fyodor Kuzmich honestly and conscientiously worked as a private. For the last three years he has chaired the village council».

The article describes one evening spent with Fyodor Kuzmich. Then there were a few more - and all are memorable. I will try to remember and convey some fragments of conversations with this amazing person. Like all modest people, he flatly refused to talk about himself: “ I have nothing special. You shouldn't have thought of it ...»About fellow villagers - please.

Stories from Fyodor Kuzmich

The memory of Pitirimov Sr. has preserved a lot of stories.

— Here is Nikita Nikitich Dragonfly. He is older than me, but he works - he does not lag behind other young ones. From the first days of the collective farm - wherever they send. Requires no awards, no posts. And a man of amazing honesty. He walks along the road, sees a board or some kind of rope - he will not be too lazy, he will definitely take it - to the sawmill, to the stable ... And in general he is a very interesting old man.

Or another story by Fyodor Kuzmich about his fellow villager Vladimir Ivanovich Nikonov:

— Also a very, very original grandfather. I admired his hard work. After the war, he mainly worked at the crossing. Here, I remember, I was walking early one morning, at four o'clock, I decided to look at the fields across the river. I did not expect to meet him on the ferry at this hour, I thought he was sleeping at home. I looked into the ferry booth - and there really is no one. I looked, and he was fumbling by the boat, making something. We started talking.

— And at me, my brother, - Vladimir Ivanovich shared the news, - there are moose.

— What moose?

— And such. Every evening, a little dark, they will leave the forest and in this place they swim across the river. They graze there. At night they feel good there, at ease. And in the morning - again in the forest. Just before your arrival, they swam ... I don't tell anyone about them: they will frighten them off, but they are already used to me ...

— What quality do you value most in a person?? - I once asked Fyodor Kuzmich.

— Eh, here you are inciting me to philosophy. Each person is a page of a large book - history, and they are all interesting in their own way. As the ancient Romans said, suum kuikve - to each his own! .. In short, a person must sow good, sow "reasonable, good, eternal." It is important for me what a person gives to people, so I judge how useful he is. And finally, honesty. This is what I value most in a person ...

— We often had a conversation about poetry, - Alexey Zolotin continued his story, - and every time I lost the feeling of something familiar, everyday: as if this is not an elderly collective farmer who has finished five classes of an old rural school, but a specialist in philology. Fyodor Kuzmich not only quoted Pushkin and Lermontov, Byron and Heine, Horace and Virgil - he freely supported them with words of his thoughts, views on poetry and literature in general. So it is not by chance, but according to the law of succession, one of the sons of Fyodor Kuzmich, and in all he had five children, Sergei Pitirimov, became a famous Russian poet, a member of the Union of Writers of the USSR. But Sergei Fedorovich became famous in his declining years, and in his youth he dreamed of geology and only tried himself in poetry. I must say, not without the approval of his authoritative father.

Another conversation with Fyodor Kuzmich was remembered by a friend of his son and poetic peer Zolotin. With a smile of bright emotion, Aleksey Petrovich, also a popular writer far beyond the borders of his native Przemysl region, recalls Pitirimov Sr., his old man's tales.

— Somehow I came across a book, - shared Fedor Kuzmich. - It was written in the seventeenth year, even before the revolution. It considered very important problems - how to lead Russia out of ruin. The author - I don't remember his last name - proposed developing the economy in the east of the country. Everything seems to be correct. But how did he suggest doing this? Have recourse to foreign monopolies. What would be left of Russia then? Would be swallowed by predators. That’s the kind of thing - it seems like a man was bothering about the interests of the Motherland, but no. Loving the Motherland is not what talking about this love ...

As if this conversation took place today, - Zolotin recalled, - it is so relevant. Today there are again disputes about how to raise the country's economy: with the help of foreign monopolies or independently? It seems that the first point of view wins. But it is also useful, I think, is the warning of Fyodor Kuzmich Pitirimov: predators would not swallow Russia ...