
The train “Russia, directed to the future” will follow, among other things, through the Komsomolskaya, Khbur Park, Kievskaya, Krasnopresnenskaya, Oktyabrskaya stations, then again - Komsomolskaya, Khbatur, Kievskaya Park, Krasnopresnenskaya, Oktyabrskaya. And again, and again - through the tiles of the Lenins, through the Rubensov collective farmers, through the happy soldiers, through the puffy children of wartime, through ears and screws, through bayonets and banners, through grape clusters, cannon vents, through the sickles, through the hammer and through the anvils, through the imperial marble, through the cemetery granite, through Soviet terminals, through Soviet ties The stars, by by, by, through the false communist antiquity, through the fake Stalinist Rome, through the temple Greek columns - into the future in a circle: you can’t come, you can only get tired and go into marble, granite, cast iron, into stars and wreaths.
The Moscow metro is dug for us by our grandfathers in a clay brown brown Moscow land, the ring line was built around the Great Patriotic War, its stations are museums. They were digging for that, for that they were decorated that they would drive into the heads of the descendants - such a past. Retouched, pended, rewritten. After the collapse of the Union, the new stations were not built for a long time, then under Putin-it began: at first the Victory Park, the most deep of all the metro stations, and then the new ones, as if modern, but still not allocated too much style: either marble-imperial or utilitarian tin, in the spirit of Khrushchev-Brezhevsk economy.
The exhibition "Russia, directed to the future", which Putin and the Patriarch were opened in the arena on the day of popular unity - one charm. Young Rostekhnocrats drag them on rainbow stands, because it is necessary because political strategists and publicists too often began to say that Russia is clogging into the hole of the past, driven out of it, that young people are wandering through rallies, that hammers and stars are alien aesthetically aesthetically. Young people need to slip the image of the future, they say full -time philosophers, it needs to be pumped up with pictures from science fiction: artificial intelligence, flights into space, neural networks, skyscrapers, cold blue gamma, fashionable fonts. It must be distracted from the feeling that the future is not about them, that all the sitting places in it are occupied by the kids of the current elite, not to mention the cabin of the driver.
The President and Patriarch - an aging autocrat and an aging official - walk around the exhibition of the future and smiles exhaustedly. They do not want to look into the future, they already know that they are waiting there, without helpful explanations of young energetic guides. On the Day of National Unity, on a synthetic holiday of November 4, invented by the uninhabited director of massatical performances by Vladislav Surkov, to squeeze the Moscow streets at the communists, who celebrators the seventh of November for the seventh of November, and Patriarchs with masks, instead of people, vogue in Russia, not even Potemkinskaya, but holographic. In Russia, which they will no longer find - and which no one will find.
The exhibition in the Manege is interesting to them in the same way as the masses looming in the background from ministers and heads of state corporations, just like all Russians: nothing. And apparently, knowing that the usual visitors would have to be driven in this happy future, it was decided to at least ride the Muscovites and guests of the capital on it. They filled the cold-blue future metro wagons and launched an endless ring, without even bothering about the external setting of this trip and about its metaphor.
Koltseva stations are now museums. But they were built as temples, not without reason Doric columns, not without reason marble statues and other false antiquity. They also built, so that in the union of the thirties, in a circle, turning through this miracle of the light of the hungry Muscovites and the poor guests of the capital, to force them to believe in a bright amazing tomorrow, for which it was necessary to endure the nightmare endless today. The metro was the pre -rysis of the marvelous coming world, the temple, properly blinded by their grandeur and splendor of unbelievers, to turn them into the communist faith.
The train seems to go along the ring: we are passing the same stations again, we are fed in the old way in the old meanings, we again need to endure today to be happy tomorrow. Only in the meanings do not even believe those who sculpt them, it is a pity to spend marble on the image of the future and they simply print on the film that the wagons are tightened, because the difficult today, which needs to be endured for it, is not an era, but only a couple of months, to the presidential election. Because after them this way will be easily wiped: you will not need to flirt with youth anymore, but it will be possible to drive it into some kind of film pioneering and some kind of film Komsomol, where they will explain all about their future in an orderly order.
But this is not a ring, it is a spiral, a twisted spring: the speed grows, the circles are smaller, faster, faster, deeper, deeper, deeper, down. In our present, not figurative, the future.