A playful, transparent beam fell on the corner of the table, broke (what nonsense: if you don’t know where to fall, don’t fall), screaming in silent pain, it crashed onto the pillow and stayed there, contemplating that it was much more convenient and safer this way.
The tape stopped. Oleg flipped the cassette to the other side and turned the tape recorder back on. John Lennon screamed desperately, “Help! I need somebody!” The sounds of The Beatles’ music soon filled the room (which had been carefully sealed so that no note, not even a sharp sound, could escape outside), and Oleg himself dissolved into the melody.
And suddenly (there was still a hole somewhere!) shouts penetrated the room. He didn’t have time to get scared, as he quickly realized that it wasn’t a murder with elements of violence in the next room, but his brother’s favorite music, commonly called heavy metal.
Oleg remembered a couple of ominous curses that came to his mind first, but didn’t bother too much, deciding that this would be enough for his brother. And he only said these curses to himself, silently, because even if he had planned to shout something in his brother’s ear, he wouldn’t have heard anything.
So one can imagine where poor Lennon needed to go. The curses were said, but Oleg remained undecided, sitting on the bed: what to do?
Should he go, open the door, drag out all the pieces of fog that he had been collecting from the swamps, literally piece by piece, fog that uniquely repels sounds? Should he tear apart these layers again, go and give his brother or his tape recorder a piece of his mind? For what purpose? So that his brother would come up with some new mischief in half an hour, worse than this?
Suddenly something changed. Oleg didn’t immediately realize what. Ah! He heard McCartney! “Another girl who will love me till the end!” And that meant the music behind the wall had stopped.
But the fleeting joy quickly faded. It also meant that Igor was simply preparing something even worse. Oleg lay still, quietly waiting to see what would happen next, peacefully listening to The Beatles.
And suddenly, the apartment was shaken by the roar of an engine and the screech of the cat Martha (born Gilbert) flying around the walls. Igor sped past Oleg’s room in the corridor on a motorcycle.
“I knew it!”
The roar slowed in the kitchen, and Oleg realized that Igor was making a turn.
“Fool! He doesn’t even know how to turn without running over the cat!” — thought Oleg, and it became clear to him that Igor had made the turn fine, because the roar continued back toward the crazy brother’s room.
There was no point in thinking about continuing to listen to The Beatles, and even less so in saving the foggy fastenings.
In the room, Igor, judging by the sounds coming from there, made several circles, then returned to the corridor. Oleg heard the motorcycle pass by his room, past the big… And then, from the bathroom, came a terrible crash, the engine stalled, and the siren wailed.
“Okay,” — Oleg guessed, “he definitely didn’t make the turn,” — and at that moment, anger surged. He forgot that Igor was already having a tough time, dashed out into the corridor, and saw his brother, alive and unharmed, standing by the door with his head hanging down. Apparently, realizing that he wouldn’t make the turn, Igor managed to eject himself just in time, but he couldn’t save the motorcycle. Right next to him, sat the serious, businesslike Martha (born Gilbert) and calmly watched Oleg, and beside her stood an unknown traffic police officer (as needed: in uniform, with a baton).
Seeing his downtrodden brother, Oleg felt sorry for him, switched from anger to compassion, and said, not in anger and not upset at all:
“What’s going on! You can’t even listen to music in peace. Like little children. Just turn off that siren already!”
Then the traffic officer spoke (and somehow, the siren silenced itself):
“Do not worry, Oleg Yurievich. We’ll sort everything out. And you, citizen Gilbert, please come with me. You will be a witness in the protocol.”
They went to the kitchen, and Martha paused for a moment. When the officer and Igor started talking in the kitchen, she approached Oleg, touched his leg with her paw, and said:
“It was I who scared him!”