Archive. "Influence People". Traps of Nature

I like reading, watching science fiction, mysticism. I have heard, watched and read a lot about magic.

And suddenly I realized why the victims of magic do not roam the streets. And why the world is not ruled by sorcerers.

Please note that these events are taking place in the country I came up with. Moreover, in the world that I have created ...

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Instead of introducing

For many centuries, people have been running after prey, eating and dressing in objects obtained in the hunt. And then suddenly, over the past literally 100 years, they made a giant leap in technology and their own development.

Why?

Try to go to the forest, well, let the park, like "hunting".

Set yourself a task, for example, to collect edible mushrooms or plants. For the purity of the experiment, it is desirable to be hungry.

What will happen in the process of moving to the park (forest)?

Note, even before you come to the place of "hunting"...

If you are hungry enough the imagination will draw in front of you tempting pictures of ready-made mushroom kebab. Or a basket of large, juicy and ripe berries. And you mentally eat it all. Chomping greedily. The juice from the berries will pour over you, but you will not pay attention to it, but only eat, eat ... Choking and munching until you gobble up the whole basket.

The division of labor removed the "hunter and prey" problem. At work, you do not deal with your prey, but get it for another, and he, in turn, provides you with food.

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Trap 1

Imagination. It is not a tool. It is a sense organ. Rather, a channel of communication with the senses.

When I Imagine something, I do not create it. I reproduce it from memory.

Let's look at the trigeminal nerve.

Where does the middle part of the nerve go? What is this nerve reading there? Once upon a time there was a mustache. Not the ones under the lip. And like a cat. Vibrissae. That have disappeared. But the nerve remained! If the nerve has not disappeared as unnecessary, then it is needed and works.

How do vibrissae work? React to air vibrations. The cat vibrates the air with its whiskers, creating micro-vibrations of the air. Air reflected from obstacles is analyzed by vibrissae. This is how the cat complements the picture of the world. This is from science.

How do we apply this to our case?

How do human vibrissae work? But they are not there? But the middle branch of the trigeminal nerve comes to the cheeks. What for? What is there to measure?

At first glance, it may seem insignificant, shallow. But under certain circumstances, this ability can save lives. It saved me.

Somehow it so happened that I was locked in the apartment. Not by chance. But not maliciously either. My partners and I rented an apartment. Like an office. For some reason, the locks on the front door were all so arranged that they were opened and closed with keys not only from the outside but also from the inside. The set of keys was the same for all. And it so happened that my partners had to leave, and I decided to stay in the apartment and get some sleep. They locked me in the apartment from the outside with keys and left, taking the keys. I lay down and fell asleep. I woke up with a strange sensation, which I realized only later. I went to the kitchen and accidentally saw that the gas supply lever on the gas water heater was turned to the maximum, and there was no fire in the column. Gas entered the apartment in a fairly strong stream. For some reason, all windows, despite the heat, were closed. There are bars on the windows. I am locked. I can't leave the apartment.

I turned off the gas, opened all the windows, stuck my nose out through the window of the back room and breathed in this way until I thought that the gas had dissipated.

Superpower saved me. Which, I'm sure, all people have. This seems to be ignored and not used. And I paid attention. And I use it.

By the way, cases with gas leaks in the room happened to me, I won't say often, but they did happen several times. And these cases, although not as dangerous as with a gas water heater, could have ended unpleasantly enough. But I usually found gas leaks quickly.

I discovered this ability for a long time. I'll make a reservation that I do not consider this an ability, I think that all people have it.

I grew up in a house with central heating. But once I got into a house with wood heating and was sitting near the stove. It was then that I drew attention to the phenomenon that is commonly called "cheeks are on fire." But then I didn't draw any conclusions.

I drew the conclusion much later. My partner and I were sitting in a cafe. The cafe had a fireplace. My cheeks began to burn. I remembered my feelings near that very wood-burning stove a long time ago, looked at the fireplace and it dawned on me that this was not a reaction to heat. Then I said to my partner: "Pay attention, their fireplace is poorly insulated. There are a lot of combustion products from wood in the room." I don’t remember my partner’s reaction, but he didn’t seem to be surprised, and therefore I thought that he also noticed it. But, apparently, he did not realize until I pointed it out to him directly. It was probably not the insulation of the fireplace, but the poor ventilation. I noticed that when heating a room, people sometimes tend to save heat and do not pay enough attention to the freshness of the air. I always try to equip the house with a fan. And now I am sitting, heating the house with electricity. Which is expensive enough. But firewood is safer. And a powerful exhaust fan is working. All the same, my cheeks are burning. This air loses oxygen on contact with a hot metal surface. The concentration of carbon dioxide in the air is quite high.

And what does imagination have to do with it?

I have only talked about one function of the trigeminal nerve. Branches of this nerve that go to the organ of smell provide you with a good sense of smell. And to the disappeared vibrissae.

What else can the trigeminal nerve do?

Here are a couple of stories. Maybe you can guess it yourself?

I

I was studying at the institute at that time. Energy profile. I got there by hook or by crook because I studied poorly at school. This is a completely different story, full of adventure, but continue in another story.

But now, a more interesting institute for me (teaching physical culture) began to form. I threw away the jungle of physics and mathematics with ease and plunged into wellness methods with pleasure. The Institute was in the stage of formation. No entrance exams. Low tuition fees. And the most successful thing, as it turned out for me, is a big staff shortage. So in the first year of study I already taught, and in the second year I did an internship at the head office in the summer (I studied at the branch, and the head institute was in another city). And I arrived in my hometown already in the position of a senior teacher with the right to freely recruit teachers to my group.

What does this have to do with the werewolf problem? It is important to understand my sense of self in the situation in which I find myself.

Senior teachers were sent on a schedule to the headwear on business trips to receive new methods for subsequent teaching at the branch. My time came - I went.

The road took the night, in the morning I was already in class.

I have already said that the institute was emerging and of itself there were problems with funding. Therefore, the elders on business trips were given exactly the same amount that was enough only for travel. However, advice was given: to save money, stay in the very building of the Institute. "Everyone does this ..." - This is how the situation was described evasively. The food is, of course, at my expense.

All these difficulties did not bother me a lot. "Let's break through!" But this is just about the topic of the story.

Our building, in my city, was larger, but we did not rent it entirely and only for hours, in the evening everyone had to leave.

The head institute occupied a small but separate building. Therefore, some of the visiting students stayed there overnight.

The building was actually one large hall. In this room, the main general classes took place. And there were several small rooms around the perimeter, in which classes were held in small groups.

And there were several small rooms where the pulpits met.

From the train I got straight into the thick of the class. Everything had to be written down in order to teach at home later.

At lunchtime I gave myself a little excursion. There were very small cells on the third floor. Several very small ones, I brushed them off at once - evil eyes burning in the semi-darkness told me that it was busy there. I liked a rather large walk-through cage, in fact a corridor, the "Walls" were some old curtains suspended from the ceiling on hooks. Inside, there were three large tables end-to-end. Sufficient beds for the organization, I immediately realized. This was evidenced by my aptly noticed rolled up mattresses tucked under the tables. The room was empty. During the day, the room was occupied by some kind of chair. Anatomical posters hung along the walls, and a skeleton stood in the corner, propping up folders with papers piled on the floor. Yeah, medicine.

At the end of the day, as it got dark, I again visited the "room" scheduled for the night.

The teachers and staff of the department, apparently, dispersed. I took advantage of this.

Some guy came in. Teacher or student is unclear. Age said little, our students were retirees and teachers were former schoolchildren. He sat down on the table, it looks like this is his bed for the night. He quickly moved to a horizontal position. A book appeared out of nowhere, clearly not on the subject, the student had already gone deep into his own world, inaccessible to me. I was clearly a stranger and very uncomfortable.

- "Hello!"

Silence.

- "I'm from ... (I named my city). Not busy here?"

Silence.

- "Where do you cook food here?"

At the word "food" the "student" flinched and gave me a look.

- "Busy". Finally he muttered through his teeth.

It looked not like "Busy," but like "Would you go to ...". Yeah, that means he can speak.

- "Nopeace sleeps here." It was said without aspiration, which means the notorious "Nopeace" does not pose a great threat to him, in order to tear his claws for his bunk. He just doesn't want me as a neighbor either.

- "Nothing, if he comes, I will free his place."

The newly made "neighbor" contemptuously turned his back on me.

I retired to the hall to my things. I ate. Feeding the "neighbor" was not part of my plans. Survival experience dictated that food would be wasted. I will not become his friend. I already had friends who smoked my cigarettes, ate my groceries, drank my beer, borrowed my money (and still didn’t give it back).

They may argue that it would be better to feed the neighbor in order to win his favor ... Sorry, but this does not work. It works the other way around, having fed him, I will raise him to a level higher above myself and then I will have to feed him. Paradox? Yeah ...

When I tried to return to the room behind the screen, it was curtained, the lights were out. It amused me a little, but it didn’t stop me. My experience of living in a hostel unmistakably guided me through a series of correct decisions. I calmly pushed the curtain aside, but out of politeness I didn't turn on the light, which was probably a mistake. There was a displeased grunt.

"Nopeace. He is not? So I sleep here" - I declared.

By the end of my tirade, I was already covering my mattress. Carefully, but already almost in a businesslike way, I closed the curtain, blocked the passage with a heavy stool, which the inexperienced neighbor did not think to do.

At night this stool was overcome by our third member of our newly made team, but I was already fast asleep.

II

The next morning I woke up, oddly enough on time. In the sense that there was only time left to roll the mattress and run to the audience. So I did.

The day passed unnoticed. I participated in the classes on an equal basis with the students, with the difference that I had to write everything down from the teacher's point of view. Let me remind you that I was actually a student. This duality did not bother me in the least, on the contrary, I thought that this method of teaching was more progressive.

At lunchtime, I dropped into "my" room. She was unrecognizable ... No mattresses, full of people - teachers of the Department of Medicine. There was a meeting going on, which puzzled me a little - in the midst of a class.

Then many amazing things happened in this institute. A new technique was being introduced (into which I joined without hesitation). But I will remind you that I was a student and received the status of a teacher as well. But there were teachers who were asked to become students from the beginning of the school year, that is, of the type of lowering their status. Not everyone accepted it. The institute split into two factions. On the one hand, stubborn teachers did not want to become students either. On the other hand, there are students who want to become teachers as well. There were actually two educational processes.

Having gone up to "my room", I witnessed this very "second educational process". There were "teachers" who ignored the classes and played the play "department meeting". However, they supplied the "alternative" educational process with study programs, and my task was just to collect this information as well. Which is what I did. I waited until the end of the meeting of the department, knocked about among the dispersed teachers, picked up scraps of paper with their notes. I even talked to someone. It is done. It's time for classes.

A snack? I took advantage of the empty room, brought food from the large hall, where I arranged my things between the seats. I settled down on the table, laid out the food.

And suddenly I felt that I was not alone.

Or rather, it was not quite so. Or rather, not at all.

That is, at first I really "felt" that I was not alone.

And then a lady entered the room ...

Let me remind you that I was not in the room, but in fact in the corridor, which led to the rooms proper (which were "occupied" with eyes burning in the darkness). The corridor was not a corridor either, but a square landing after the stairs. The area is partitioned off with curtains, so a corridor was formed, leading further into the rooms. And a room formed on the side, where I sat. That is, if you go up the stairs, you can immediately see me sitting on the table, since the curtains were pulled apart during the day.

Which is what happened. The lady climbed the stairs and found herself with me "face to face".

"Good afternoon!" I tried to be very, even extremely polite, as I knew this lady. I will not mention her status out of politeness.

Silence.

"I'm from ..." - I named my city. "I came for an internship."

Silence.

Then I realized how I looked. Sports suit, house slippers. I'm sitting on the table. Food is spread out. That is, it is clearly not a teacher by sight. And the lady was not dressed in sportswear. And obviously she had breakfast at home.

But I was struck by her face ... Stone mask ... And empty, expressionless eyes aimed straight at me...

Although I expected at least contempt or indignation at my appearance and inappropriate occupation in the lectern. There was nothing like that ...

Then she turned around and walked away. Just as silently.

III

So the whole working week passed. Classes. Running for teachers and begging for programs from them. Attempts to eat. So until the evening.

True, my night's sleep was provided by a bed. Nopeace, however, appeared a couple of times. He contrived to study in yet another "normal" institute, for which he apparently received a small amount of support from his parents from his village. In any case, for all the years that followed, I did not notice his employment to earn money. It seems that he did not pull out on grades for a free hostel at that institute. I moved to another bed, surviving the unlucky "neighbor" who, hissing in the dark at night, was placed on the third bed. I was lucky, three places at the same time were not occupied at night.

It so happened that one of the days of my business trip had a holiday. Army Day. For obvious reason, all men were congratulated on this day.

The Institute was empty. Several homeless students roamed the empty classrooms. I slept off, ate and lazily lay with a book in "my" room on the Nopeace's bed, enjoying peace, silence and loneliness. There were no neighbors.

And suddenly I felt that I was not alone.

Or rather, it was not quite so. Or rather, not at all.

That is, at first I really "felt" that I was not alone.

And then a lady entered the room ... Not alone, accompanied by a gentleman. A first-year student accompanied by a "student-teacher".

The lady went up the stairs. I was lying on Nopeace's bunk, my face fenced off by a book. Next came the "cavalier". He held in his hand a bottle of wine and glasses. The lady had a small sweet roll in a package in her hands. I sat down, finding myself at first sideways to the entrance, put the book down. The gentleman put wine and glasses on the next table, the lady put a roll.

During this time, I managed to get up and began to turn around to the arrivals. The festive table was already laid.

I turned around and the lady found herself with me "face to face".

"Good afternoon!" I tried to be just polite this time. I knew this lady and this teacher. I have been with them for almost a week.

Silence.

"Happy Holidays!" - just in case, I said.

Silence.

Then I realized that they came to Nopeace. No, not like this. Then I was so dumbfounded that I did not understand anything.

The lady came to Nopeace. Rather, I thought so before the events of today. The cavalier did not understand anything. As I...

And I was struck by her face ... Stone mask ... And empty expressionless eyes, directed straight at me.

And I expected at least some smiles, congratulations, toasts. There was nothing like that ...

We drank the wine in silence. We finished the roll. At the end of the "party" the guy's face turned into the same stone mask.

It seems to me, too.

Then the lady got up, turned around and left. Just as silently. The guy followed her.

IV

But now my glorious business trip has come to an end. I was going home not without sadness. It was Sunday. I don’t remember who suggested that the time of the business travelers should be arranged this way. The instructor went on a business trip on Sunday evening. In the morning, right from the train, he got to classes. I also left on Sunday and got to classes on Monday morning already in my city. Thus, it was possible to immerse the teacher as much as possible in the educational process and increase the travel time. Note that at the expense of the teacher's personal time. Although, I must confess, I understood that all my free time would be spent on mastering the material. So I would have added time, but everything was calculated and so "back to back".

It turned out that on Monday I would already be teaching the material I had received in a week. And I had time to process what I received, albeit in my own time. But the teachers to whom I brought the material will not have such an opportunity. They will have to give out material from my "papers". In any case, the first day, then pull up.

Indulging in such gloomy, but inspiring thoughts, I collected my simple baggage. That is, my thoughts of "working order" - about the upcoming teaching were full of enthusiasm. I collected everything that could be gathered from the information. I even doubted that all this could be conveyed through the educational process. But my physical condition was not very good. I haven't been in the shower for a week. I ate whatever. I slept ... well, I've already told about this. True, the economy pleased. I didn't pay for the stay. And being constantly within the walls of the institute made it possible to pump out the maximum data from the teaching system.

So consoling myself, scratching myself dissatisfied ... Here I was lying - the shower was not so bad. I washed myself regularly in the toilet from the sink. In fact, everything sang in me, I was full of strength and hope.

For all these gatherings and reflections, I did not notice a female person near me ...

I probably wasn't surprised. This lady was constantly here. As I thought, she came to Nopeace. But today Nopeace was ... But I didn't think about where Nopeace is now. Moreover, I shamelessly rejoiced in his absence, since this provided me, so dearly valued by teachers, privacy.

In general, I packed my things. The lady stood pillar in the middle of the room.

I don’t remember us talking. Or rather, most likely we did not speak.

Then I remembered only one phrase. It looks like it was actually the only one.

"Are you leaving? I'll accompany you."

I started to deny it out of politeness.

Silence.

I realized that I did not have much choice and shrugged resignedly.

Then I foolishly thought that she would help me carry my things. I made a mistake.

So we are a strange couple - I, loaded with things, and she with empty hands rode the bus from the institute building to the subway, went down to the subway, drove part of the way.

And so we stood at the last station, waiting for the subway train. This train was already going to the station directly.

Then, to my surprise, I softly but firmly declared that I would go further alone. The fact is that I was gradually seized by the fear that this lady was determined to go with me to my city. And for some reason the only thing that confused me was that I had bought only one ticket.

Silence.

I got on the train that came up. I looked around. The lady remained on the platform.

I was struck by her stone face. And the look of unblinking eyes fixed on me ...

V

Stone face. Fixed eyes. I would say slightly enlarged eyes. But without the characteristic sparkle of interest. The eyes fixed me rather than looking at me, studying or interested.

After quite a long time, I saw a similar look once ...

But now, perhaps, it's time to tell how it all began. Not chronologically, but from the moment of understanding what happened. Rather, it happened to me for quite a long time ...

So when I got it all figured out. That is, when the moment of insight came, after which everything took on a purely descriptive form. Now I can write a thick volume of research, observation and conclusion.

And then this moment of insight happened just a couple of days ago.

I live in the village. Came for the summer months. I work remotely. Rather, I have been working for many years to turn this work into remote work. All day I sit by the computer. Although life requires constant movement in order to survive. But more about that some other time.

Living in a village it is difficult not to take advantage of the opportunity that has come up and not to walk "in the fresh air". In general, there is fresh air all around ... I walk to the forest and back. It takes about half an hour.

Here you need to add an important detail that may seem insignificant, but played a key role in this story.

I go for a walk with a shovel ... Yes, yes - with a real shovel. Ground digging tool. Completely iron, only the handle at the end has a plastic cover. Heavy.

It all started with this shovel ... No, not like that ... This shovel became a catalyst ... It became an incentive ...

It is better to describe the situation itself, and then draw some conclusions. But the find is too good! Catalyst shovel. The shovel is the key to everything.

So I went for another walk. To the forest.

Damn, there are so many details! And important details. And it is better to mention these details in order to draw the full picture of what happened.

Let's try a list.

1. Shovel.

2. Unmown grass.

3. Theft of the forest.

Perhaps these three components of this tangle of events should be mentioned.

Now let's expand item number one.

I have had a craving for martial arts for a long time. A couple of years ago, here in the village, I was mastering kata with a stick. Instead of real "joe" I used a shovel handle. Wood. Having mastered the kata with a handle, I tried it with a shovel. The same one. At first, I waved it with enthusiasm, came up with a couple of exercises to strengthen the hands, which I did on the way to the forest. Then the enthusiasm faded, but somehow I got used to carrying a shovel with me and never parted with it. Over time, I noted the following with satisfaction. If at first it was not easy to carry this heavy instrument, the hands were buzzing upon returning home. By now I hardly notice it. The instrument became an "extension of the hand".

Self-defense was the initial motivation for carrying a shovel. A walk in the forest is a rather dangerous activity. The forest is full of animals. Mosquitoes - a mosquito net saves from them. And what about wild boars, moose, wolves? Even a very disgruntled fox can be dangerous. Once I was almost attacked by seagulls, but that's a completely different story.

In general, the presence of something long and heavy in the hand is very conducive to a good mood.

And most importantly, people. Mushroom pickers are armed with knives, sometimes of amazing sizes. Tourists with guard dogs. Drunk "on vacation". Hunters with guns - these come in the late afternoon.

And see point 3 - people stealing the forest. These can be the most dangerous. And more on that later.

So this year, the neighbors spoiled my mood with special zeal ... Therefore, my section of the street was mowed down unpretentious, but it's hard to find fault --it is clear that they were mowing. The area near the house is poorly mowed . And behind --not mowed at all.

Why is it important ?. Because this year the grass and weeds are especially dense. This is the warming of the climate. By the way, I can tell you separately that when I first came to the village a couple of years ago, the weeds And the weather this year is warm and rainy. In general, the grass in the rear area is practically impassable. And the last couple of years the weeds are taller than me.

And for a walk, I go through the back section. Now it is clear?

These days, because of the unmown grass, I was forced to go for a walk through the village, and not, as usual, through my backyard. I walked along the main street (and it is alone), past all the houses. Then I walked out onto the road that runs past the village. Cars drive along this road. From the forest. And into the forest.

And I moved towards. Down this road. And it so happened that at the same time a team of lumberjacks was returning. Which took the stolen logs out of the forest. And the customer was waiting for them at the crossroads. That is, I walked by at the moment when the transfer of the stolen logs to the buyer was to take place.

Here I can be interrupted and corrected. They say you are mistaken. They are honest, kind, good people. Yes, they were driving from a forest with logs. It is a crime? And they met their good old friend.

And I do not mind that they are kind and good people. But are they honest? If they were honest, they would not take out logs from the forest, but garbage and branches for processing. Since their license is most likely for clearing the forest, and not for felling.

Why do I think so? And I watched their work all summer. It so happened that where I walk in the woods, they were just engaged in felling. Moreover, there are trees marked with red paint for felling - obviously bad, but they did not touch them. And obviously good trees were cut down. And they did not take out the branches and garbage. On the contrary, they dirtied the forest with their garbage and the branches from their cutting only became more. And they knocked down a lot of young, good forest, making their way to their chosen trees. The forest there now looks like after the bombing.

And why did these honest people, seeing me, out of fright unload the logs at the edge of the village, and not take them to their old friend, who was waiting for them at the crossroads?

And you will laugh ... But the next day I went for a walk again. Believing in the honesty of people. And the situation repeated itself. Again I met the lumberjacks. A good old friend was waiting for them again. Probably again he was passing by by chance. Again, they had to dump the logs at the edge of the village.

Although I am not describing all this in order to bring someone to clean water.

And for what?

This is where we get to the point. When I went for a walk again, they were already waiting for me. The same "old friend". By car. I reviewed it. A young man with a decent black beard in the current fashion. Strong physique.

This time he was sitting in the car. Lowering the side window. A girl from our village stood at the door. I never spoke to her. Only greeted from afar.

This time she did not greet me. And she began to quickly approach me.

"Why are you walking here?"

I was not surprised.

"I'm for a walk here ..."

It looks like she was not amused by the hidden humor in the answer.

"Why with a shovel? What are you digging there?"

I began to explain that I was not digging anything. And the shovel is for training. And defiantly began to twist the shovel in his hand.

"Look, there are timber trucks here ..."

"What do I care about timber trucks?"

I began to turn around politely but decisively, turning my side to her, making it clear that the conversation was over.

But she was already leaving.

Interesting dialogue? No.

The content of the dialogue is interesting. And it was filled with hidden meaning.

Well, at first glance. What are people usually told? Note - to semi-familiar people. With whom, note again, we have never spoken before. They only greeted.

That's right, they say "Sorry!" "Sorry!" "May I bother you for a moment?"

Then. You need to have a weighty reason in order to approach a person so easily.

Is it more interesting now?

What happened?

1. I was brazenly stopped.

2. I was unceremoniously interrogated.

3. And most importantly. I was threatened!

Take a look at my answers. I made excuses. As if I was to blame!

And yet, in my place, in such a situation, even a very polite person would not talk. After the very first words "Why are you walking here?"

But I understood the context of the dialogue!

So I made excuses. Because I was grateful.

Grateful? For what?

For not being killed. Which is unlikely. But probably. Let me remind you that I witnessed a crime.

I was grateful not to be beaten. But this was very likely.

And now you can see the situation in a completely different light.

They came up to me and made mercy ... Yes, yes! They just did me good! Warned. And at that limit of politeness that criminals are capable of. In this situation. When I distract them from stealing. Have you tried taking a bone from a dog?

Let's get back to the dialogue. Let's translate what is happening into the language of animals.

They growled at me. And I whimpered in response. And then, I set my tail between my legs, I ran away.

Although not quite I with my tail between my legs and not quite I'm whining.

Recall that I held a shovel in my hand and even twisted it in the air.

Perhaps the shovel saved me...

But I did not mention the most important thing.

Try to guess ...

Correctly!

Stopped, motionless eyes. Stone face.

How did you guess?

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to be continued....