Our Mercedes is ill. Should've gone into retirement. It's the
fourth DEREVO bus. We've travelled about a million kilometres altogether.
To the moon and back. And once again to the moon – and that's not
even with the aeroplanes and trains. They're incalculable.
The next car will have darkened windows. DEREVO doesn't read newspapers,
doesn't watch TV, doesn't listen to the radio. There's only the
problem of the world outside the windows left. Di suggested
using darkened windows in quite an unusual fashion: they can see
us, we can see no one.
"Cool," they said at the garage. "There's nothing
yet of this kind so we'll do it for free." She said, "Tell
me if I do something wrong. It's not about the brains. It's just
the body's response." I asked the garage to install one child
It's a hard tour. Shtyk broke a bone inside of her foot. Figa
has problems with a foot too. Di has a sepsis. Ga just burned out.
And my heart is beating.
"DEREVO is a one-way ticket," said Shtyk.
"You mean, you cannot get back?" asked Alisa.
"Why? What's the problem?" said Di. "Just go and
"Who's going?" asked Shtyk. "I'm talking quite
"And I listen quite seriously," said Ga, "and listen
and feel and realise and stare at you attentively."
I missed the hints before and I used to lose people. I'll never
do that again.