Boy

Sachet

This happened after it all started. What started, no one could say for sure. Some called it a war, some an operation, some a disease, some didn’t call it anything, but everyone knew that everything was no longer the same. It happened in the middle of the city, in the river. A boy was born in the river.

Now they no longer dared to say in which river this happened - in the Moika, Fontanka or even the Neva. Those who wanted to see continuity, and since the boy had curly hair, argued that in the Moika. People nodded with taste at the Fontanka. Someone even insisted that it happened in Karpovka.

One way or another, the boy was born and grew up slowly, without suffocating from the water, from time to time he swam out to see how we lived. Sometimes he did not come out for a long time, and then people from the houses surrounding the river, who had already become accustomed to the cub, gathered on the embankment and looked at the water for a long time, as if trying to call him. Some fishermen launched their fishing rods, some shined a laser into the water, but they were beaten on the hands, others sang. It happened that the boy responded and swam out. As he swam out, he always smiled. It was not the smile of a blessed person or a fool; he smiled mysteriously, like in an old painting. In winter, when the river froze, they made a hole for him, and in the mornings one could see his bright, cheerful head sticking out of the hole - even in the icy January water the boy was not cold. He was a strong boy. Who raised him there under water remained a mystery, but whoever did it, he did it well.

This went on for three years, and on the fourth the boy came out of the water. At first they saw him in a local church, he stood at the lectern and quietly chattered. No one could understand what language it was in. They didn’t come close to him - they were afraid to scare him away. Then we noticed him in a pastry shop, closer to Liteiny. So they guessed that he loved sweets, and began leaving him cakes. He drank half a glass of tea and ate the whole cake. My favorite was Bird's Milk. Then - not far away for nothing - he began to come to our bookstore. It was not clear who taught him to read, but he began to swallow books like cakes. When he entered, he would take a book, sit by the window—our large windows looked out onto the avenue—and an hour later he would carry it back and take the next one. He read everything and in all languages, moving from fiction to philosophy, from philosophy to cooking, from cooking to sociology - cabinet by cabinet by the end of the year he read all the books and came only for new ones, although few new ones were already brought in then.

He never spoke to anyone, but if they came up to him and brought him tea or sweets, he raised his head and smiled. People called him Smile. They said a smile was sent as salvation. We began to think about how to get in touch with him.

We contacted the mayor. The mayor at that time was a good man who made compromises, but retained in his heart some ideas about how things could be. They said about him: at least he doesn’t make things worse. The mayor was informed about the boy, he became interested and called him to his place. They explained that they couldn’t bring the boy by force, and they didn’t know how to talk to him. Then the mayor said that he would go to him himself. So the mayor came to our bookstore, and they sat by the window for a long time. The mayor wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and treated the boy to tea. The boy did not move and looked at the mayor with his sky-river eyes. We sat until the evening, until it got dark.

The mayor later told his wife that he had never experienced anything like this. That this boy is clearly a saint or an alien, and that he does not know what to do with him. Don't send him to college.

It seemed as if the boy was about to tell something, explain something. He will begin to lead people along the water or lead them somewhere . But nothing happened. The boy lived and lived for himself. I read books, ate cakes and smiled. Some time passed and they got used to it and stopped noticing it.

And when it started and they had to leave the city, they remembered the boy. They started looking, but he was nowhere to be found. Search parties were assembled. They even examined the river bottom. There were two days left to leave the city, many were crying. They left in parts, and the last detachment - led by the mayor - searched to the last. The mayor personally climbed onto the roofs of already burning buildings and checked the attics, but it was all in vain.

And when they returned to the city - and washed its skeleton, its fragments and marble dust with tears - then at the bottom of the river, dried up by fire, they found his small body. It was completely untouched and smiling