How I was looking for a Method for memorizing new words. Draft. Part 6
As a child, I was silent. This is probably why I had many friends.
For many years I have been saving "my stories". But I didn’t know how to express my thoughts coherently enough. This is probably why I studied to be a teacher for a long time.
Without becoming a teacher, I realized that my stories are not interesting to anyone. Everyone loves to tell their own. And I have fewer friends.
Therefore, I chose the path of creating small useful techniques. And I spent a lot of time on it. Then it turned out that this invention, which I considered mine, is called a "live hack".
What is in front of you reminds the story of my life. All stories are quite "silent", they resemble a draft of future teachers' lectures and, finally, contain a small valuable methodology.
Where, where is the key to memory?
Perhaps the key to memory is contained in a science fiction novel I wrote?
Well, let's take a closer look at the contents of the novel. Perhaps my other "I" gave any clues?
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Draft novel
I have a favorite time of the day. In the evening, when sunset is approaching.
Everything was silent. Then comes the understanding that the day is ending ... And even the air becomes light, with such good sadness.
I like to drink beer. But don't just have a drink! And with the meaning!
I'm going to the bar. I sit closer to the window, so that I can see the sun. I order a glass of beer.
I prefer tall thin glass to a thin leg. Then the sun penetrates it through. And fills him with farewell light. And I drink this light. I will dilute with sadness about past years, lost friends ...
I remember when I was 21 years old. Probably everyone remembers themselves at this age. Plus a couple of years. Not later than. When they think about “starting all over again”. Not when they would like to change something yesterday, the day before yesterday, a couple of years ago. And globally, “everything” should start all over again.
The sun sets, sadness leaves. And the next glass was already filled with optimism, hope for tomorrow.
In my youth I lived a couple of years in a small town in a desert area. It was not a desert with dunes. This is a semi-desert. Not the steppe, because the plants grow poorly and not the desert - there is no sand there. Flat terrain like a table, naked. Separate heaps of small plants, I did not understand which ones then. In vain, of course, one would have to pay attention to the fact that there was a lot of unique “Camel Thorn” plants around. The name comes from the observation that local camels chew it with pleasure. It turned out not for nothing that they (camels) respect her so much. It contributes to the normalization of water-salt metabolism. Or contributes to the best absorption of water ... Something like that. Both are unique in the local hot climate! Now, of course, I am very sorry that I did not go, did not collect unique grass!
So, there are amazing evenings, I tell you. Perhaps it coincided. I had a short period of fairly good existence there. Basically, this related to the fact that I was full and not busy with work. Therefore, it was time to pay attention to the weather and nature. So, - look around, - the heat subsides and the same period begins before sunset ...
It always happens "suddenly". Such moments happened to me when I taught classes. We rented a room - a large hall. This hall was a foyer in front of the auditorium. Huge, with columns. The floor is marble. Concerned about order, local administrators unceremoniously (in a businesslike way) turned off the light literally right after class. Well, in fact, they wanted us to leave as soon as possible. Sometimes the lights were turned off when people were moving around in the hall. They say it's time to release. There was little time left before the cleaning ladies came. They will turn on the light. And my stay here again will be inappropriate. I liked to linger in the dim room for a short while and stand in complete silence, analyzing the time spent here.
Or after amateur performances, when the audience dispersed and we cleaned up our simple props on our own. It was unusually quiet and somehow kindly empty. Noise, din, and suddenly everything calms down. At this time, everything seems to be quiet. The air seems to stop moving.
And the feeling flows in like in autumn, when the leaves begin to turn yellow.
Or when you leave your holiday home for work. You look at the southern flowers under the first snow.
Or in the desert ...
And then one autumn day, at this most favorite time of mine, I was sitting in one of the bars in the city ... (Well, it doesn't matter which one ...), drinking cocoa, looking out the window, thinking. The sun went down. Then it got dark. I was getting ready to go home. I paid. I headed for the exit.
In a narrow corridor with three doors, to the bar, to the toilet and to the exit, I was overtaken and pushed by some guy, apologizing, I did not consider him. The door behind this guy slammed in front of my nose, I pushed it and went out on the face. Well now go home on foot!
In anticipation of a leisurely walk, I looked around, choosing a route.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the guy had already gone some distance along a small street. “Well, I won't go there!” I decided, took a step and ... stumbled over something on the sidewalk. I looked down - and stumbled upon the straps of a rather bulky backpack. "Aha ...", - I thought maliciously, - "... apparently this bastard-pusher dropped ... Rightfully so!"
Vindictively grabbed the straps, jerked up - it was not so! The backpack was heavy! But I had a folding cart, fasteners and a durable bag in my small backpack with me (this is how I go to the store, very convenient). He pulled out the bag, opened the neck, pulled it over the stranger's backpack and dragged (literally “dragged” by dragging) it into the bag.
My weight lifting limit was then 50 kg maximum (what I could lift in a backpack and carry for a while). The fact that I did not lift this backpack, of course, indicated that it weighs more. Then I acted quickly and almost automatically. Dexterously disassembled the wheelbarrow, dragged the sack onto it, grasping its neck - things went easier - and fastened the sack with rubber bands with hooks at the ends.
I took the wheelbarrow by the handle and briskly ran down the street opposite to the one in which the stranger had disappeared.
I walked a couple of blocks, stopped a taxi, loaded a bag into the trunk with the taxi driver and was soon at home.
I was in no hurry at home. I placed the find in the middle of the room, having previously freed it from the bag in the corridor. I made myself some coffee, sprawled in a chair, took a sip ...
"Of course the backpack needs to be returned ..." - I thought.
"Tomorrow, probably ... Although the bar is still open ..."
I put down the cup and ... rushed to the prey.
I opened the neck — there were ribbons — untied them and, in anticipation of the unknown, put both hands inside.
I grabbed the contents from the sides, felt the package, pulled it out and put it on the floor next to the backpack. It really turned out to be a transparent bag the size of a ream of A4 paper, although perhaps a little thicker than the standard package.
Then I continued my research, and tried to open the package to get to the content.
It turned out to be not so easy.
The package turned out to be not a package, but rather a folder that opens multiple times.
The first time the folder was opened like a book, then it was necessary to bend the upper and lower ends, turn it over, then turn it over again, and so on several times. And only after that, access to the content was opened.
The material of the “folder” was transparent and unexpectedly soft and elastic, resembling, perhaps, to the touch, silicone.
“You can safely take this folder with you to the beach, putting your tablet or laptop in there, without worrying a lot about the safety of the contents from moisture ...” - I thought.
He pressed his finger on the material, - "... and it will protect from damage." I estimated the size by eye, - ... and you can not take the rug with you ... "
And somewhere inside I was growing a conviction that this “folder” could also be used as a floating device, and a cape for warmth and much more ...
And here, perhaps, at the very moment when I was looking (And found!) More and more new applications for this "folder" and the feeling of unreality of what was happening was born and began to grow in my chest.
It turned out that the material in its expanded form was an uneven rectangle two meters long and one and a half meters wide.
After a little searching, I found a barely noticeable hole (with one edge slightly overlapping) and, muttering with dull satisfaction “I thought so!”, Stuck my head in there.
I straightened the fabric over myself, found (no longer surprised) the holes for the sleeves, put my hands in, stood for a while. I realized that I would also find holes for the legs. And the hood. Which most likely closes like a helmet. Sleeves and legs are also found. Even if you wrap your legs, then you get boots.
The thought crossed my mind that it was more of a spacesuit than a cape.
Shockproof? He hit himself on the thigh (covered with a cloth) with his fist, felt nothing, went to the table with a cup of coffee, took a spoon, poked it in the same place - without result. That is, I felt nothing. I poked harder - no result.
But most importantly, the spoon for some reason did not bend.
“Yeah… (By this time I’ve read enough Science Fiction novels.) Of course, this is more a field than a fabric…
I see it because ... And it feels like ... a silikon because ... Feeling that I am confused, I decided to think about something else. But in vain! It would be better to focus on the properties of the package-folder-spacesuit!
Almost a poem 1
I suddenly realized that for a long time already something inside of me was screaming for a long time: “Caution! Danger! ” A kind of growing (like the sound of the sea as you approach it), feeling. Which gradually, and then somehow suddenly turns into understanding “Everything is lost!”
Then (and also somehow at once) comes the feeling that you are standing on the edge of a deep abyss. You can already hear the whistling wind near your ears. And yes, it’s not yet heard, but it’s clear that along the bottom of this gorge the river is rustling and bubbling and there are a lot (Well, of course!) Oh-oh-a lot of large boulders with sharp (But of course!) Edges. It is also cold and dark there, the water is icy and fast. And wolves live in the caves along the edge of the gorge ... Howl. Bear. Crocodile.
Stop! The crocodile will not like cold water. What am I talking about?
For some reason, the crocodile brought me out of the stupor, in which I was already almost blissfully staying.
All this took shape in the understanding that the very fact of owning this tissue automatically puts me in the position of the most wanted individual on this planet.
And I got into this position not when I took this backpack, but when I crossed the threshold of this bar. Probably now ...
Almost a poem 2
The bartender from the bar where I drank beer. Gives confessionary statements. Tied up in the back room. Towels from his kitchen. Red-hot skewer on the stove.
The guy who pushed me. Under torture. Face into the ground. The boot slowly presses his cheek into the asphalt. Weak jaw bones begin to crack. Remembers my appearance.
The taxi driver, having lost all his teeth (Sawn off with a file!), Remembers all the passengers he transported. For the whole life.
Hundreds of plainclothes agents. By sequential selection method. All people are checked. Information about which is pulled from the unfortunate.
The residents of the surrounding houses before the execution (Near the wall!) Will tell the whole story of their life in these houses. Since the move. And at the same time from the moment of his birth. And of course they will remember. What they saw. As I stuffed the ill-fated backpack. Into the bag! The intent is obvious! Most likely the whole city is already surrounded.
Angrily clanking caterpillars ... Simultaneously from all sides ... Columns of blacks are approaching the city (Why black?) ... Heavy (Well, oh-oh-very heavy!) ... Tanks!
Behind the wheel (the tank has levers, but it doesn't matter!) ... Angrily squeezing it in front of you (That's why the steering wheel!) ... The evil ones are sitting (The evil ones were already there! Okay.) ... Here, - "full of hatred", tankers. On the side screens they have ... My face! In the image of the sight that is understandable in all languages of the Earth.
Residents are already being resettled house after house, block by block, dismantling houses brick by brick, furniture by chips.
And this will happen. It will definitely happen. If it becomes known even about the probability of the existence of such a tissue. In a certain locality.
Any state in the world will do anything for one opportunity to dress soldiers in such suits. Anything you want! Not even mentioning a couple of million lives of the inhabitants of our city. Shoot it, evaporate the city along with the cloth! So that the enemy does not get it!
But most likely, I changed the subject ...
But in vain! It would be better if he stayed on his dear Land, with his usual agents in civilian clothes. And cute tankers.
Most likely these are alien technologies ... So I was thinking now. And now the aliens, who have lost their tissue, are preparing to search.
Almost a poem 3
Mother ship. The size of an entire planet. Glitters with an ominous steel light. Comes out of the shadow of Jupiter (Why Jupiter? To make it bigger?). Moving towards the Earth. Has insidious plans.
Control room. The mother ship. Veteran generals. Lompasses sparkle.
Numerous appliances sparkle. All-wall screens. Urgent messages are running across the screens. About the tactical situation.
Adjutant soldiers. Dressed in brand new uniforms. Coffee and soft drinks are inaudible.
The most important general. The largest sparkling lompasses. The largest cap. Raises his hand. The command room freezes. Thunderous voice. “Battle alarm! The key is to start! " Then. Multiple wrinkles on the face. Are smoothed out. A hoarse, smoky voice. A little tired. The hall freezes again. "Forward, sons!"
The faces of the soldiers are visible. At the first command, they are tense. At the second stingy man's tear. Rolls out. From the tip of the eye. They understand that they may not return. But in their fiery hearts. Eager to win. There will remain this phrase "Forward, sons!". They don't go to fight for victory. For the opportunity to return. And once again hear these words.
Fill in gradually (sector by sector!). All space surrounding the mother ship.
Cover the Earth in a large arc. Approaching an insidious enemy. The enemy does not sleep. He dug in. He waits slyly.
Scout ships appear ahead. Elongated predatory hulls. Invisible by radars. Powerful high-powered engines. Impenetrable armor. Glistening in the sun with an ominous steel light.
Experienced pilots. The best of the best. Loyal sons of the galactic empire.
For the glory of the emperor! For the homeland! Forward! To victory! The enemy is at the gate! The enemy surrounds! He will be defeated!
On the side screens, everyone has a picture of my face. In the crosshair mark. Understandable to any civilization. The faces of the pilots are stern. Their tentacles grip the steering wheels. Their alien ships. They have multiple pairs of eyes. And all of them (eyes) burn with hatred. And determination. Take away the cherished fabric from the reptile (It's me!)!
Almost the end of the poem 3
-
“Have you ever heard?! ..
For your worthless well-fed life?! ..
The roar of the nozzles of an orbital attack aircraft?! .. "
It reminded me of lines from some space saga ...
And I fell asleep ...
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To be continued...
Previous parts:
https://ncode.syosetu.com/n1825go/
https://ncode.syosetu.com/n2363go/
https://ncode.syosetu.com/n4820gj/
https://ncode.syosetu.com/n3441go/
https://ncode.syosetu.com/n3866go/
