"STOLEN IMMORTALITY"

"So why haven't you become friends with him? Sasha will be staying with us until his mother gets better. And you, son, must spend all your time with him: play, go for walks, swim in the pool, ride a bike... Basically, be friends. Will you promise me that?"

“I promise,” Yasha answered quietly and looked at Sasha.

"Well, good. Now I'm at peace. You've never lied to me, son," the man said, stroking Yasha's head.

This small gesture of affection from his father made Sasha feel uneasy. He suddenly remembered his father: harsh, rude, perpetually dissatisfied, and constantly drunk. His father had never spoken to him the way Uncle Joseph spoke to his son Yasha! His father had never stroked his head, never cared for him, never shown any interest in his affairs! Sasha remembered only the bad things about his father: how he'd caused scandals, how he'd beaten his mother and him half to death, how he'd thrown them out of the house... The dark thoughts that had overwhelmed Sasha were interrupted by a woman's melodic voice. Aunt Sonya's. She said the boys could go play.

Sasha stood up and followed the Jewish boy. Yasha led him into the children's room. When the boys were alone, they looked at each other meaningfully and were silent for a long time. It was a strange silence. Not childish, but somehow very hostile. It was then, for the first time, that Sasha felt he hated this Jewish boy. But why? For what? He couldn't explain it. The hatred was inside him, subconsciously. After all, he couldn't consciously hate Yasha. There was no reason for it. The boys hadn't met yet, hadn't had a fight yet...

Yasha was the first to break the silence. He said:

-This is my room. I play here. Do you want to play with me?

“I want to,” Sasha answered.

“What games can you play?” the Jewish boy asked.

-To war. To lapta. And also - to family.

- To the family? How so? - Yasha was surprised.

- It's very simple. I play a drunk dad. I come home and start beating everyone up...

- Beat?- Yasha was even more surprised. - But why? My dad never hits us!

“And mine hits,” Sasha said sadly and lowered his head.

The boys fell silent again. Each was lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Yasha asked:

-Do you want me to teach you how to play my games?

“I want to,” Sasha answered.

-Well, listen. We're going to play a game called "Living Dead."

“What’s it called?” Sasha asked again, surprised.

"Living dead." Here, look! With this gun, you will kill me. And I will come back to life. You will catch me and kill me again. And I will come back to life again. Do you understand?" asked Yasha, handing Sasha the toy gun.

- I don't understand. A dead person can't come back to life.

-That's not true. My dad does just that. He's figuring out how to bring the dead back to life.

“You’re not joking?” Sasha asked.

“No,” Yasha answered firmly and said impatiently, “Well, what? Will you play with me?”

"I will," Sasha replied. And the boys began to play...

Three weeks passed. Sasha spent them with a Jewish family. It was an interesting and happy time. During this time, he became close friends with the hosts' son, Yasha. The boys played together, slept together, ate together... They became like brothers. And when the time came to part, they were very upset.

Sasha's mother was discharged from the hospital. Uncle Joseph bought train tickets. And then came the day of farewell...

Sasha remembered that day well. Moscow Station. The train. He and his mother were standing by the carriage. Uncle Joseph, Aunt Sonya, and Yasha were seeing them off.

Antonina Yegorovna thanks the young couple for everything they've done for her and Sasha. They, in turn, ask them to remember them and keep in touch: call, write...

Yasha approaches Sasha and asks:

-Do you want to leave?

“No,” Sasha answers.

-So why are you leaving?

- I don't know. Mom says we should go to our village.

-Is it nice in your village?

-No. Bad.

-Then don't leave! Live with us! We'll play together!

-I can't. I have to obey my mother.

The boys hug goodbye. Antonina Yegorovna and Sasha enter the carriage. The train begins to move. Faces flash by on the platform. The wheels clatter. And to the monotonous clatter of the wheels, Sasha recalls every day he lived in a Jewish family. He recalls and ponders why his father and mother, as well as himself, cannot live the way Uncle Joseph, Aunt Sonya, and their son Yasha live? Why don't they have such a huge, beautiful house with a swimming pool? Why don't they eat such delicious food? Why doesn't his mother have such elegant dresses as Aunt Sonya? Why doesn't his father have such expensive and fashionable cars as Uncle Joseph? Why doesn't he have as many expensive and beautiful toys as Yasha? Why? Why? These "whys" torment the boy, preventing him from finding peace. And he feels how a previously unknown and terrible feeling is born in his soul - envy.

A knock on the door brought me back to reality.

“Come in,” Alexander said loudly.

The door opened and the secretary, smiling sweetly, chirped:

-Alexander Ivanovich! The Arab sheikh has arrived with his translator.

"Okay. Let them come in. And you, Lenochka, bring us coffee and candy," said Alexander, adopting a businesslike air.

The secretary closed the door slightly. Her words addressed to the visitors,

Alexander heard clearly:

-Please come in. Alexander Ivanovich is waiting for you.

A few minutes later, a very fat man of Eastern appearance entered the office. Behind him, a small, frail young man in glasses, presumably a translator, scurried in.

Alexander suggested sitting down and started the conversation:

- I am pleased to welcome you, Sheikh Rashid, to Moscow. I hope you had a safe journey?

He waited for the young man in glasses to translate his words and continued again:

- May I offer you coffee and sweets? Or perhaps you would like something else? I can send my secretary to the restaurant. It's nearby.

The translator translated quickly. It was clear he was an expert in his field, a first-class specialist. The Arab sheikh nodded in gratitude and replied. From the translator's lips, it sounded like this:

"I'm also pleased to welcome you, Alexander Ivanovich! I arrived in Moscow safely. There were no obstacles along the way. Thank you for the offer of hospitality. I don't want anything. At this point, I wish to begin negotiations on our case as soon as possible."

"Okay. Let's get started," Alexander said, and the translator translated his words.

Now the sheikh spoke. Alexander listened attentively to his speech in Arabic, a language he didn't understand. He sensed that this man would agree to all his conditions, just to get what he wanted, so interested was he in it.

When the sheikh finished speaking, the translator began to translate:

Dear Alexander Ivanovich! You are aware of our situation. The President of the United Arab Emirates is very ill. He is dying. However, the Supreme Council of Emirs is interested in the current President remaining head of state. He is the guarantor of our country's stability and prosperity. If the current President dies, the opposition will rise again, and our state could be fragmented, while internecine strife within the Emirates will inevitably lead to a new war of conquest by aggressor countries interested in our country's greatest wealth—oil. We want to keep the United Arab Emirates intact and safe. Our strength and power lie in unity. That is why we have turned to you, a unique individual already renowned throughout the world. We are interested in preserving the life of our President. And we are prepared to pay handsomely for this!

After listening to the translator, Alexander said:

Dear Sheikh Rashid! During the preliminary negotiations with the Emir of Abu Dhabi, I set my terms. Are you familiar with them?

When the bespectacled young man translated what Alexander had said, the sheikh nodded vigorously and again delivered a lengthy speech. Translated into Russian, it read as follows:

"Yes, yes, Alexander Ivanovich. I know your conditions. At the moment, they have all been met. We have found a double of the President—a man of the same age, the same weight, the same height. He and the President are as alike as two peas in a pod. The double is now in Dubai. He has been examined at a top medical clinic. And, despite his advanced age, he has been declared healthy. His organs are functioning perfectly. According to doctors, he could live another twenty to twenty-five years. That suits us. If the current President survives in his double's body for at least ten years, we will be able to find him a worthy successor. Now it's up to you. You need to fly to Dubai and perform the operation.

Alexander replied:

"But we haven't discussed the financial issue yet, esteemed Sheikh Rashid! I'm asking for nine billion dollars for my work."

After translating Alexander's words, the sheikh hesitated for a moment, then quickly resumed speaking Arabic. The bespectacled young man translated:

"That's a lot, dear Alexander Ivanovich! We're forced to ask you to lower the price. Please understand our situation. Currently, the Supreme Council of Emirs only has two billion dollars at its disposal. That's the amount we're offering you."

Alexander winced and said sharply:

"No. I won't agree to that amount! If you don't pay me nine billion dollars, the deal is off. Your President will die. You must understand that I am the only person in the world who can save your President's life. I, and I alone, possess the gift of immortality! I, and I alone, can perform unique operations to transfer souls into new bodies! Therefore, bargaining with me is inappropriate! You either agree to all my terms, or our deal is off!"

The translator translated. The sheikh remained silent. A few minutes passed, and Alexander said impatiently:

"So, why are you silent, Sheikh Rashid? Decide before it's too late! I think your President's life is worth nine billion dollars."

After Alexander's words were translated, the sheikh finally spoke in his own language. His voice held a hint of frustration and discontent. Alexander felt uncomfortable. But he knew the sheikh had no other choice and would certainly agree to his proposal. So the translation of the sheikh's speech didn't surprise him:

Dear Alexander Ivanovich! You're forcing us to accept your price. We have no other choice. We'll pay you nine billion dollars. But we need time to raise this sum. As I've already said, the Supreme Council of Emirs currently only has two billion dollars. To raise another seven billion dollars, we'll need at least two months.

The translator translated. But Alexander didn't have time to answer the sheikh. The door opened.

and the secretary came in with a tray in her hands.

"Excuse me. I brought you coffee and candy." Lenochka approached the table and gracefully began placing cups of coffee on it.

The Arab sheikh and his translator stared at the secretary. They seemed to be devouring her with their eyes. Alexander didn't like this and said sharply:

-Bring it and go, without delay! We have a business conversation!

Lenochka looked embarrassed, shrugged, and walked toward the door, swaying her hips and showing off her gorgeous, shapely legs. The sheikh's eyes sparkled. And the bespectacled young man shifted suspiciously in his chair.

The men came to their senses only when the door closed behind the secretary.

Alexander said:

- Dear Sheikh Rashid! May I offer you and your companion coffee and sweets again?

"I'd love to have some coffee," said the bespectacled young man, pulling the cup toward himself. He then translated Alexander's words to the sheikh.

In gratitude, the sheikh nodded again and began to speak in his own language:

"Thank you for the treat, Alexander Ivanovich! But I'd like to continue our conversation. As I already said, we'll need two months to raise seven billion dollars. And our President's health is deteriorating every day! He may not live to see the day we raise the money! Therefore, I must ask you to perform the operation immediately! You will receive two billion dollars from us as an advance payment. We will pay you the rest in two months!"

The bespectacled young man sipped his coffee and translated the sheikh's speech. And Alexander thought, "I know you, you Eastern sly ones! You're always lying! You're trying to deceive me! But it won't work! I'm smart and cunning too! You won't be able to deceive me!"

Looking into the sheikh’s face, Alexander firmly said:

"Dear Sheikh Rashid! I'm sorry to disappoint you! I don't agree to these terms! Your argument that the President could die before you raise the money doesn't interest me. That's your problem! If you want me to carry out the operation immediately, you must pay me four and a half billion dollars as an advance payment, exactly fifty percent of the deal. For the remaining funds, you must guarantee that I will receive it within twenty-four hours of the operation. If you don't agree to the terms I've announced, our deal will not take place!"

The translator translated. The sheikh remained silent again. Five minutes passed, and Alexander said:

"Dear Sheikh! I await your decision! If you agree to my terms, then let's shake hands and seal our agreement with our signatures on this document," he said, showing the contract he had prepared in advance. "If you do not agree to my terms, then let's part peacefully and go about our business. I have no time for idle talk! Decide now!" He looked at his watch, then at the Sheikh, and sat down on a chair.

The bespectacled young man quickly translated Alexander's speech. The sheikh remained silent again. Another five minutes passed. Alexander grew nervous, took out a cigarette, and lit it.

Sheikh Rashid wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and finally spoke:

"Dear Alexander Ivanovich! We accept all your terms. You will receive four and a half billion dollars as an advance payment. We will pay you the remaining amount within twenty-four hours of your operation. I am ready to sign the contract and shake your hand." The sheikh extended his hand.

Alexander understood everything without translation. He shook the sheikh's hand. When the bespectacled young man had translated the sheikh's entire speech, Alexander took the contract he had prepared, signed it, and handed it to the sheikh to sign. He called the translator over and showed him the document. The young man began quietly translating each clause of the contract to the sheikh, who listened attentively and studied the document. Once this procedure was completed, the sheikh signed the contract and handed it to Alexander. The partners shook hands again.

Alexander said:

Dear Sheikh Rashid! I plan to arrive in Dubai in a week. By then, you must open an account in my name at the Swiss bank Alfa and transfer four and a half billion dollars into it. I hope we've understood each other well and there won't be any incidents. Prepare your President for the operation. He must be mentally prepared for the fact that his life will continue in a new body—the body of his double. And now I won't detain you any longer. Goodbye!

The translator translated. But the sheikh was in no hurry to leave. He spoke again in his own language:

Dear Alexander Ivanovich! I would like to make another request of you. A personal one. The thing is, I have a daughter, Leila. She is already twenty-five years old. But she is still not married. Men don't like Leila because she is very overweight. She weighs two hundred and seventy kilograms. Personally, I don't consider a woman's plumpness a disadvantage. But today's young men think differently. They want slim, graceful women with thin waists! My daughter is very upset that men don't like her. And she can't lose weight. She's tried, but it's no use. She'll lose two kilograms in a week, and then gain another five kilograms in two days. Besides, her obesity is hereditary. Everyone in our family was overweight: both men and women. I, as you can see, am also overweight. But it doesn't bother me. And my beloved daughter suffers so much from excess weight! She has already attempted suicide twice. I can't let her die! I have to save her! There's only one way out: my daughter needs a new body. The body of a slender and beautiful girl. I told Leyla about the possibility of living in another body, and she agreed. She chose the body of the Russian model Svetlana Lazareva. You probably know her. Now she's famous all over the world! So! I ask you to perform the operation to transfer my daughter's soul into the body of the model Svetlana Lazareva. Tell me, how much will it cost? And when can you begin the operation?

The bespectacled young man translated the sheikh's speech. Alexander was at a loss. After all, he had never expected such a request from the sheikh! After some thought, he said:

Dear Sheikh Rashid! I wouldn't mind helping your daughter find a new body for a fee. But I don't think the body of Russian model Svetlana Lazareva is suitable! After all, you said yourself that she's famous all over the world. Her disappearance won't go unnoticed. They'll start looking for her. And if she's found in Dubai, and your daughter is already living in her body, there'll be a scandal! An international scandal! Can you imagine how this will affect my career? My surgeries will no longer be a secret. They'll become public knowledge worldwide! That won't do for me! So you'll have to find another girl! I advise you to find some poor, beautiful girl from your country. It's better if she doesn't have any relatives! And if she does have relatives, there might be a deal with them. I think for a good price, they'll agree to forget their poor relative forever. Do you understand me?

When the translator had translated, the Arab sheikh began to speak passionately in his own language:

- I understand you, Alexander Ivanovich. But you understand me too! I have only one daughter and twenty-eight sons. Leila is very dear to me! I love her madly and would do anything for her! After all, I always spoiled her and did everything she wanted! Now my daughter is obsessed with the idea of having the body of the Russian model Svetlana Lazareva. And I want to fulfill this wish of hers! Believe me, I will arrange everything so that there will be no scandal. First, Svetlana Lazareva will be kidnapped by my people. Then the newspapers will write that she was killed. In a month or two, the girl will be forgotten. And you will calmly carry out the operation to transfer my daughter's soul into the body of a model. My daughter will be happy! She will happily marry and live in Dubai. No one will ever look for the Russian model Svetlana Lazareva in the Emirates. Especially now that the newspapers have published materials about her death. I'm asking you, Alexander Ivanovich, to help me! I promise there won't be any scandal! Your operations will remain secret! Plus, I'll pay you well!

The bespectacled youth quickly translated the sheikh's words, but Alexander was in no hurry to respond. He thought, "If I refuse the sheikh now, he'll harbor a grudge. And Easterners are dangerous! They take personal insults very hard and avenge them cruelly!" So Alexander decided to cheat and promise the sheikh that he would fulfill his request. He reasoned, "The main thing now is for the sheikh to be calm and kindly disposed toward him, and then we'll see how things play out. In any case, I can always find a reason not to keep my promise!"

Alexander said:

"Very well, Sheikh Rashid! I agree to your proposal! If you arrange everything so that there is no scandal surrounding the disappearance of the Russian model, I will perform the operation to transfer your daughter's soul into the body of Svetlana Lazareva. The main thing is that everything remains secret! My operations must not become public knowledge to the entire world unless I myself so desire!

The translator translated Alexander's words, and the sheikh shook his head in satisfaction:

"I understand, Alexander Ivanovich! I understand everything! Thank you. We'll expect you in Dubai in a week. We'll transfer the money to your account on time. We'll prepare a luxury hotel room for you. Well, that's all, I think?" the sheikh spread his hands. "We agreed on the main thing today. We can clarify the details over the phone. Of course, within the bounds of strict confidentiality. Allow me to shake your hand again and wish you all the best!" the sheikh extended his hand.

The bespectacled young man translated. And the sheikh and Alexander shook hands.

Alexander said:

-And I wish you all the best, Sheikh! Have a safe journey home!

The Arab sheikh and the translator left the office, and Alexander sighed deeply. The negotiations had gone well and resulted in a lucrative contract. Now he wanted to relax, relieve stress, and have some fun!

Lenochka involuntarily came to mind. It would be nice to have some fun with her! Alexander was sure she would agree. After all, she had to please her boss. Otherwise, he might fire her! A well-paying job! Which is hard to find even for the most beautiful girl.

Alexander was determined to spend time with Lenochka and was about to call her, but the phone rang. "Oh, how inopportune!" flashed through his mind. He looked at the number that had appeared. It was Vladimir Zverev, the head of his lab. He had to answer. So Alexander turned on the phone.

-Yes. I'm listening. Speak, Vladimir... What? So, you've already brought the young man to the lab? He's handsome?.. I see. And have you already told Zinovy Izotovich about this?.. Good. I'll be right there!.. Yes. Wait for me, Vladimir! See you later!

After this call, Alexander's plans changed abruptly. Rest was out of the question! He had to get to the lab immediately!

Alexander quickly left the office, telling his secretary as he went:

- Lenochka! I'm leaving!

"Will you be back today, Alexander Ivanovich?" the secretary's question remained unanswered.

Alexander hurried out of the office and got into the car.

“To the lab. Hurry,” he said to the driver.

The car started moving. Streets, houses, shop windows, people flashed by... Alexander stared out the window indifferently.

When we reached the Garden Ring, the driver asked:

-Alexander Ivanovich, can I turn on some music?

"No. Better increase the speed, Tikhon. We need to get to the lab as quickly as possible," Alexander replied.

The driver increased the speed. The streets, houses, shop windows, people flashed by even faster...

Once they left the city and started driving along the highway, Alexander stopped looking out the window. He rested his head on the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

The monotonous hum of the engine lulled him to sleep, and soon Alexander dozed off.

Past events loomed clearly through my drowsiness. Terrible events I so desperately wanted to forget! To erase from my memory forever! But they kept coming back to haunt me, both in reality and in my dreams...

The September days were unusually hot. The sun shone like it was July. The temperature rose to thirty degrees. A real Indian summer! And what a summer! It was wonderful to relax by the river or lake, swim, sunbathe...

However, the adult population of Shatalovka village wasn't happy with the weather. It was harvest time. They were picking onions, potatoes, and carrots... It was difficult to work. People were sweltering in the heat, quickly tired, thirsty, and constantly taking smoke breaks. The work was slow. This greatly irritated the chairman of the Shatalovka state farm. Furthermore, there was another problem: almost all the machine operators were heavy drinkers, often absent from work. Finding a sober machine operator, even for a single day, was no easy task, especially in such hot weather, which made all the workers sluggish and lethargic.

Only the children liked this weather. They didn't want to go to school. They barely made it through the allotted time in class and then ran outside. There they frolicked, swam, sunbathed, and played various games...

Sasha Zavidov also didn't want to go to school, even though he went there for the first time on September 1st. After two weeks, the boy was completely disillusioned with school life. After all, he had expected something different. Sasha thought school would be interesting. But it turned out...