On the Wings of Hope : Prose

A camera in television studio moves somewhere sideways and upwards, at first displaying the vicinities of some city from height of a bird’s flight, and then sharply dives downwards and panoramas of various small streets are revealed before televiewers. Small streets quickly replace one another as camera continues its sharp dive there-here for rounds, moving at level of the third-fourth floors of buildings. Strangely enough, all streets look deserted - not a single wandering soul can be seen along it. All common crowd activity has gone somewhere, thousands of men and women as if have vanished from the city, and a din, so traditional for megacities, has totally broken off. Cars are parked in some chaotic manner along the edges of streets - some of them, were apparently hastily abandoned, - their doors are wide open,  however no one aspires to take hold of another’s vehicle. City system of illumination and traffic light still work, however one cannot observe any visible movement at all. As if the city died out all of a sudden - definitively and irrevocably.

Fyodor :- Oh my, what’s going there on? Some time ago they dreamed of throne - but now all hidden like the rats … perhaps they’ve seen some giant cats?

V.V.P. :- This is New York … or bestiary? Reminds me of the mortuary … all people left the streets for good … oh no, this ain’t Hollywood!

Fyodor :- Who record this to be then shown?

V.V.P. :- It’s operator, who has flown!

Fyodor :- Oh my! A man can soar like bird?

V.V.P. :- And do much more of that sort!

Fyodor :- With proper faith we all can fly and join thus the life of sky?

V.V.P. :- A couple is already soaring … and trust my word, this isn’t boring.

Fyodor :- I see … oh well, and where are men, have gone to Hollywood all then?

V.V.P. :- Like cockroaches in the homes - all reading now the holy tomes! As if the priests of the blight behold the coming of the Light!

Fyodor :- Like cockroaches, being lit, they run away now, breaking feet? What are they doing at these times?

V.V.P. :- Before the God commit their crimes. Ask to forgive their sins in demise, feeling how far they are from Paradise. Knowing, perhaps, what some earned with deeds … asking to banish from soul dark seeds.

Fyodor :- In hearts and minds believed in God? That’s such a wonderful accord …

V.V.P. :- Fyodor, remember, who’s recording them!

Fyodor :- Your operator in skies like a ram?

V.V.P. :- Sort of, my Fyodor, and something like that … see through the camera, how he is glad?

A smiling ruddy physiognomy of the operator suddenly appears before televiewers. The physiognomy shows its tongue and, apparently, teases televiewers. Then a hand appears on the front in a camera, affably waving to all.

V.V.P. :- This is Ivan, the operator - he’s roaming skies as of the later!

Fyodor :- The bird descended from the skies … and what of planes?

V.V.P. :- They’ve stopped their flies!

Fyodor :- Are they afraid to crash with him?

V.V.P. :- No better plane they’ve ever seen!

Fyodor :- All what I’ve learned in institute … the laws of physics …

V.V.P. :- Leave for good! The world of wonders is the choice, the God has heard appealing voice…

Fyodor :- Where are our physicists can we see? Vomit in toilets or have flee?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us the institute! They are “praying” there now for good.