Translated material
shirt. story
He looked down at the cuff of his shirt and said.
- We're like monkeys, aren't we?
A ripple ran down the sleeve.
“Okay,” Joe continued, “you don’t have to answer.”
—Are you upset about something? - asked the shirt.
“No,” Joe replied, “I’m not upset.”
— Will you renew your car subscription?
- For what? - Joe asked. - I haven’t gone anywhere yet.
— Maybe you’ll go in the future?
“Extend,” Joe answered indifferently to his shirt, without taking his eyes off the window.
-You're nervous.
- Of course I'm nervous! - Joe flared up. His unexpectedly loud voice echoed through the empty corridors of the building. “Of course I’m nervous,” Joe repeated a little more quietly. - You're dying.
- That’s how it’s all planned.
- Who planned this? You are mine, you and I are one! Who thought this?!
“I don’t know,” answered the shirt. - That's how the world works.
- You were “set up” by the apparatus, you were created and raised for me. You are mine! - Joe said, almost crying. - My!
“I’m yours,” the shirt agreed in a quiet voice. - Your blood pressure has risen.
- You look after me... How will I live without you?
- There will be another shirt.
- Another! Another?! I don't want another one!
-You're sweating.
- I'm evil!
“You’re upset, you need to calm down.” We still have a whole day ahead of us.
“One day is not enough for me, all days are not enough for me!” - Joe shouted.
- You are not logical.
- Am I not logical?! “I love you,” Joe said quietly.
“I love you too,” answered the shirt. “My death won’t change that.”
-Who started this damned countdown?! I want to figure it out.
- Joe stroked his stomach and his shirt turned slightly red in this area.
- I'm not your first shirt, am I? - she asked Joe, in a quiet voice.
- No... but others don’t count, they didn’t understand me.
- Even the very first one?
“I don’t remember her at all, it’s as if she was born with me.”
“Joe shook his head, trying to remember his first property, but nothing worked.
— I need to talk to the administrator. Let him fix everything!
“He doesn’t resolve such issues.” He will offer you another shirt. She will be no different from me.
- What? What are you saying?! Joe wrapped his arms around his shoulders. - What are you saying?! You are the only one! One and only. You are mine!
- The other one will also be yours...
- I don’t need it! — Joe sharply tore off his shirt. - I don’t need another one! Do you remember Zara? Do you remember her hugs?
“I remember,” the shirt answered, laughing. You didn't want to film me yet.
“Yes,” Joe turned and leaned his back on the window. “She almost tore you and got you dirty.”
“I spilled the wine,” the shirt picked up his words. - Sweet and red.
“She was beautiful,” Joe said dreamily, rolling his eyes. -Do you understand me?
- Yes. Zara was very beautiful.
“That’s not the right word,” Joe agreed, and again rolled his eyes dreamily.
- Zara... I wonder where she is now?
- I can contact you, would you like?
- No, don't. You know, I don’t like all this, I don’t want to know...
“I know,” the shirt answered quietly, “you’re not like everyone else.”
“You didn’t know the others, did you?”
- No, but I’m a shirt, we communicate with each other.
- Is it true? You never talked about this.
- You didn't ask.
“I’ll go to the equipment room, it’s impossible that it’s impossible to extend your life.”
— There may not be an answer; the control room is not obliged to answer questions.
- Is it true? Why?
— Its functionality does not imply dialogue with a person, it simply grows, it is not she who creates the shirts.
- Who?
- Nobody, we are born from a blank, just as a flower appears from a grain.
- So you weren’t always a shirt? - Joe asked.
“Not always,” she replied.
Joe fell silent. He walked for some time, silently, along the long corridor. To his left lay the endless expanses of the ocean; right on the horizon, the mountains glittered with sharp fangs in the setting sun.
“There’s not enough time,” he lamented, clenching his fists.
- Time is the lot of mortals, but immortality is no different from death... if you think about it... it also comes suddenly, and forever.
“I’m not used to hearing such words from you.”
- I'm dying.
“Don’t say that,” Joe said and clenched his fists tightly. - We'll see.
- It's okay Joe.
The shirt addressed him by name, and as if Joe had heard her voice for the first time, a lump rose in his throat.
- This is not normal! You are my property! Only I can dispose of you!
- That's true.
“Your death ruins everything.”
“Such is life,” the shirt said and laughed.
“Joe heard her voice differently again, it didn’t sound the same as always.
— He went into the control room and called the administrator. Joe agreed with the shirt, nothing could be changed, but he had to try.
- You should eat, your sugar has dropped.
-You always say this phrase, what does it mean?
“You should eat,” the shirt laughed, and Joe smiled after her.
He didn't want to eat. In addition, Paul will definitely meet in the restaurant with his boring stories.
The case was designed for eighteen million cells, but every day he had lunch with Paul, nonsense. Where are the others? - Joe thought.
“Humanity has long lost interest in the organic body, you know this very well,” the shirt answered the question. Joe liked it when she delved into his thoughts.
- I know! Everyone except me.
- Yes, you’re not like everyone else... except... yet... Paul.
- What? Floor?
“He didn’t give up the body either.” And also Zara...
- Paul, you bore! And Zara, she complicates everything. She only likes to anticipate, she is a liar.
There was a whimsical note in Joe's voice.
Joe went to the receptionist. He, of course, could have called him to his place, but for some reason he considered it right to come himself. It was his privilege to walk. Joe did not get his own food, clean water and air were abundant everywhere. Machines provided his life support, and they did a good job.
“I want to file a complaint,” he said, entering the engine room.
“What’s the problem,” answered a voice from the wall.
“My property, it’s dying, I’m losing it.”
“That’s right,” the voice said calmly, “your property was endowed with life, it ended.”
- Do I have no ownership rights to her life?
- Eat. But this is a limited right.
— By whom is it limited?
- Creator.
- By whom?
“The creator of life,” the administrator repeated his phrase without any irritation.
- Creator?
- Creator!
- Who else is this? - Joe asked.
- This is internal information sir, I cannot disclose it.
- Extend the life of my shirt!
- Sir, you are excited, do you want me to invite outsiders for objectification?
- What does it mean? - Joe asked.
— A conflict is brewing, I’m sure many people want to be witnesses and eyewitnesses. This is a real event, a drama. You, of course, have the right to privacy, so consent is required.
Joe leaned thoughtfully on the wall. The empty room was imperceptibly transformed. A park bench with wrought iron railings appeared next to him. Joe sat up and put his hand to his heart.
- What do you say?
“I don’t mind witnesses,” said the shirt.
“But these are our last hours.”
“I don’t want you to be sad, I’m just a shirt, your clothes.”
- Don't say that! — Joe fell silent abruptly, pondering the decision.
— Your blood sugar has dropped, would you like to have lunch? - asked the administrator.
-Are you alive? - Joe asked the question without raising his head.
- I'm a machine.
- I asked - are you alive?
“Yes,” answered the administrator.
- Yeah! - Joe exclaimed - Alive!
- Sir, everything here is alive, we are being grown in a machine.
- What does all living things mean?
— Absolutely everything, including the building.
— What about solar panels?
- Alive.
- Wind turbines?
- Likewise.
- Bench?
Bench it's me sir. She is part of the admin department.
-Are you all going to die?
- Yes sir!
Joe swore dirty. For a long time he spat out words in all directions that he had not uttered for several thousand years.
-Will you have lunch, sir? - asked the administrator, waiting a decent pause after Joe fell silent.
“You need to eat Joe, for my sake,” the shirt asked.
- I don't want! I won't eat!
“Sorry, but this is not possible, sir,” the administrator said in a guilty voice.
- What is not possible?
- You can't help but eat.
“I may or may not eat, I manage my own meals.”
“That’s right sir, you’re right, but you have to eat, your life and health depend on it,” the administrator finished his thought.
- Everything is correct, my life, my health!
- That's true, sir, but this is a limited right...
- What?!
- You have user rights.
- What?! User right?!
“Yes, like everyone else,” said the administrator.
“Joe, your blood pressure has risen, your sugar has dropped, you need to eat, it will calm you down,” the shirt said in a quiet voice.
But Joe didn’t listen to her; he jumped up from the bench and ran to the administrator.
“No use, sir,” he said, ahead of Joe.
- What?! What did you say?! I don’t have the right to my own life?!
- Yes, only a limited right, you must definitely eat, sir.
Joe looked at him angrily, from top to bottom, but could not fix his eyes on anything. He sat back down, feeling very old. A flat panel of luxurious color gleamed in front of him.
Joe looked at his reflection, in which an elderly man sat on a park bench with his head in his hands. The shirt cuffs were wide and fastened with two buttons each.
“I should have a French cuff to go with the emerald cufflink,” Joe thought for some reason.
“Why?” asked the shirt.
“Today is such a day that I suddenly thought that I never spoiled you,” Joe answered.
The administrator fidgeted awkwardly from side to side, choosing the moment to finish his thought.
“Don’t talk too much,” Joe said peacefully, “what else?”
— Will you have lunch?
“I’ll be on the terrace,” a thought suddenly struck Joe. - Were you talking about strangers?
- Yes, sir, everyone is already here.
— Did you get a lot?
- Four, sir.
- Out of eighteen million?
- I'm sorry sir, I'm disappointed like you. In truth, it is not often that you come across such strong feelings as yours.
Joe rose from the bench and walked out of the administration room without looking back. A tunnel led him to the terrace, he didn’t want to see anything, he decided to concentrate on his thoughts.
The news about his own life connected him even more closely with the shirt.
- Do you regret anything? - he asked her.
- No, everything is great.
“You knew it would happen like this, didn’t you?” I knew that I wouldn’t want to let you go.
- I hoped so.
“But we’re parting forever,” Joe flared up, “forever!” - his voice turned to a scream, - and you are so calm.
“I love you, Joe,” the shirt responded to his reproach, “I truly love you, like my property.”
Joe didn't mind. He suddenly realized that he did not love his own life, did not love it as much as he loved his shirt, without doubts and conditions. He simply cannot love her, because he does not understand how to own her, how to appropriate her. He subscribes to life, like a car, an apartment, sex with Zara or the services of an administrator. Signed by force, by the Creator.
- It's not so bad Joe.
- Why did you put up with me, obey me, because we come from the same wallet?
“I didn’t put up with it, I’m a shirt, I was created for you.”
There was a grill on the terrace, from which oozed the delicious smell of grilled meat. The tops of huge trees swayed in the wind, the forest was in constant motion, every now and then, throwing clouds of flocks of birds into the sky.
- Do you know that she can strangle you? - the voice of the first stranger sounded.
- What?
- Yes!
- Strangle?
- Kill! - confirmed the second voice.
“Is it true,” Joe asked the shirt.
“Don’t pay attention to them, better eat,” the shirt answered, “they’re teasing.”
- For what?
“Such people, they will leave soon, they are already bored.”
“There’s no one left,” the administrator confirmed her words.
- What are they all doing? - Joe asked.
- They collect.
- What?
“Different, they are hunter-gatherers by nature,” the administrator answered.
- Was it always like this?
“Yes, it has always been like this: they hunted, found, appropriated, protected, this is what human superiority looks like, sir,” the administrator explained.
— In defense of what was appropriated?
- Exactly, sir.
- Why are you telling me sir?
- Today is such a solemn day, sir. I found the right word.
Joe took a large bite of meat, it was also raised in the apparatus, but it had no personality, like everything else that now surrounded him.
“You’ve stabilized Joe, good job,” the shirt said in a quiet voice.
Joe crossed his arms over his chest. He breathed in the clean air, taking in the mountain ranges and green valleys from a bird's eye view. He saw deep rivers and perfectly round lakes. He heard the earth breathing, how it yawned, and then hugged the sky.
- How will you die?
- When you fall asleep.
- I didn’t ask when, I asked how?
- They will cut me off from life.
-You say this as if you are talking about the network.
- This is true.
“How did you know you loved me, Joe?”
- I felt it.
- How?
- With my whole body, suddenly, when I heard your voice.
- With your hands?
- And with your hands, too.
- Without hands, would you feel that you love me?
“Yes,” Joe answered hesitantly. - Why are you asking?
- I want you to think about life, about the Creator.
- Do you want to say that the Creator is life?
“You’re not like everyone else, Joe, I love you,” said the shirt.
The next morning Joe woke up naked. A new shirt is cheerfully on the hanger. He dressed her silently. Taking the trousers from the closet, Joe realized that they were too small and would not fit his legs. The same story happened with shoes. Joe returned to bed.
What does it mean?
But the trousers and shoes were offendedly silent. Only the new shirt answered.
- Hello Joe.