Litstranichka
(C) Paul Vysotsky / Gendalf,
Sergei Vasiliev / Protein, 1998
Entry
Beginning of the End
Two men were sitting in the bar, and occasionally exchanging
jokes, news, thoughts and just rumors, juicy sup foam with a
large cut-glass cups. Slightly unkempt jeans wear one, and
crumpled jacket of another, perhaps nothing said, but detached
viewpoint, nervously running around the fingers and the weight
of other little things in their behavior, it becomes clear that
it is hackers.
- Did you hear that STS are going to ban? Already preparing
the article, - asked Jeans hacker, pulling a crumpled in spots
from beer newspaper. The second buried in her
became slightly moving his lips, to read:
"... For any nesanktsianirovannoe use of monitors, debuggers,
code-breaking program or not - a prison sentence of two to five
years."
- Yes, well, funny and debility. Do not ban
They STS, though whatever they wanted. Funny ...
Denim in response grimaced a smile and
silent. And soon they were caught again
yellow foam with new mugs and baited fidoshnye jokes, and
played outside spring.
Chapter I
Debility funny
Several years passed. The events seemed to
their course. One after another
not self-fulfilling prophecy about the end of the world:
He stubbornly refused to come. Only hackers, but
and honest coders had a hard time. Best
debugger of all times has been outlawed, despite the fact that
its author was awarded the Nobel Prize.
Zadernuv curtains and tightly closing the door,
young boy carefully and quietly, even stealthily included kakto
covered boxes computer. Then, vykovoryav knife plank
at his desk, took out a crumpled packet of biscuits. Unfolded,
and a little shaking, pulled out a hidden drive. Soon STS 9.4
was loaded, and the floorboard and the rest dwell ago.
Dexterous hands darted to the clave and the silence of the
night was interrupted only a few cries and curses single
craftsman.
Dearest grandmother craftsman, who with great
interest in watching it all through someone unknown sawn
peephole in the door, a fatherly smile tottered to her.
But I saw a black, strong and inviting, brand new fax machine,
which is like praying call to follow.
Craftsman conditionally received five years, but
the process of uncovering the crime
he recaptured the kidney and he spent the rest of my life
in hospitals, programming on MK51. Granny
received a valuable gift and an opportunity to gossip. A World
of Spectrum in this April day lost another, but not the last
follower.
Chapter II
And the last
Along the main street of the city was excited
a buzzing crowd. She sternly and inexorably
approached the "white house". In the air
flew homemade slogans: "Bring back the STS
hackers "," Hacker - also a man, "" Give
STS! "
The walls of a government building they have already
waiting cohesive series of shields and hiding
them policemen. The first series of hackers
had slowed down the speed, but the rear pressed forward.
Flashed batons, screams. Somewhere stones flew, and behind them
and a bottle firebombs. Ranks of peace officers moved forward.
On the Square left two fire trucks, accompanied by BTR. The
demonstrators sent streams of water. They ran, they knocked
feet, beaten and spun, pushing in a "booth".
In a dark damp cellar under
dim bulb swinging from the gathered
half a dozen thin, haggard, with dark blue circles under his
eyes, but determined to humans. They are about something and
disputed quiet hoarse voice. Against the wall on the cranky
table was a self-made Spectrum. Around him lay a floppy disk
and sheets of paper with illegible text printed out
on the printer D-100. They're stuck in huge quantities from the
pockets of the crowd. Y cellar door was armed with a bicycle
chain people. He also carefully listened.
Suddenly, the door suddenly flew open and in
Soldiers poured basement interior
troops. The audience was literally crushed by the numerical
superiority of the enemy.
One of the underground, sham
before a hacker, was standing behind the soldiers
and cried out: "Spectrum must die!".
As he tried to spit, but hollow on the
teeth.
Old grandfather in a mangy fur hat and coat
out of the woods and climbed the railroad embankment to the
tracks. Digging in the shabby backpack, he pulled otuda
homemade mine. Carefully as the disk with the new programs, he
found her, sprinkled snow, looked at the creature's hands with
hand, a satisfied grunt and disappeared
in dense thickets of spruce.
An hour later, there will be a train loaded with
pisishnoy equipment. It will be the fourth in the account at
the old partisan Mednonogova.
Debit and credit
(C) Protein, 1996
I began to live surrounded by houses,
I taught a crowded city,
I soon tired of the invisible shackles
And in the distance I dreamed of the mountain.
And I turned away from the streets and lie
And for horizon looked immense,
And there he saw revelations keys
And the mountains I opened my arms.
And I drowned in the quiet shadows of the valleys,
Passed like a dream, Affliction ways
And I choked winds vertices
And cried in my chest cracked
stone.
And again, I returned to the city home,
I met a city with its networks.
But the pettiness, apathy, and anger with sadness
Found in this network only cracked stone.
