Mister Thinker

Андрей Тихомиров

Mister Thinker

Mister Thinker

Finally I reached his shack, the walls of which seemed to have grown into the ground, with an entrance on one side and a window on the other. I knocked on the sheet of corrugated tin that covered the entrance. This is how guests usually announce their arrival, but instead of doors there was a hole.

– Who is this? – Someone's voice was heard.

–Can I come see you for a minute?

– What's happened? – asked the man in the booth.

– I want to examine you. How are you feeling?

– I'm not complaining. Everything is fine. He is healthy.

“But at least be careful so I can listen to you.” Or let me come in.

– Go your way and leave me alone!

– nothing will come of it. My duty brought me here. I need to examine you.

– And I protest against violence! Where is your vaunted freedom of speech and action? And you also claim that everyone uses it like air?

– Yes, but such an understanding of freedom presupposes a certain degree of consciousness.

“Our ancestors protested against violence by going on hunger strikes in prisons. Now is a different time, and I am declaring a silence strike in protest!

– Listen, sir! Society respects our decision to return to nature. You can enjoy all the benefits of civilization, but if you want to sleep on mats, that’s your business! Please give up everything that culture gives to society – both spiritual and material benefits. But we still need to respect certain laws, if not social ones, then at least those inherent in human nature. After all, you have to remain human in this too. Can you hear me?

Silence. There is no sound coming from the cabin. The gentleman in the booth went on strike.

“I assure you that I respect your decision to live in poverty and hide from society in order to indulge in reflection, like the ancient philosophers.” But I'm the new hygienist in your area, and I have to take care of you like everyone else. Can you hear me?

Silence again.

“Well, okay,” I thought, “if you don’t want to do it the good way, then we’ll do it the bad way.”

“I have no more time, dear sir,” I said loudly, “I’m leaving, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” I hope you'll be smarter by then.

Trying to make as much noise as possible, I walked away, but sat down behind the nearest bush and began to carefully watch the booth.

About twenty minutes later this gentleman's head stuck out of the window. The head looked around carefully, and soon the gentleman himself came out of the booth. He was wearing trousers – they must have been white at one time – and a black sweater that had collected all the surrounding dirt. The gentleman stood up, holding up his trousers. Bending down, he ran a few steps down the slope and dived into the dense thicket. Nobody saw him, but he didn’t see anyone either. I took advantage of this and climbed into the booth. There was straw on the floor, covered with a torn blanket.

A couple of minutes later the gentleman himself returned. When he saw me, he swore loudly. It was impossible to stand up there, so he knelt down next to me:

– Why are you breaking into my house? Who invited you here?

I looked around. There wasn't even a nail on the slanted walls. In the corner there was only a shovel with a broken handle.

– Are you afraid that I will steal your jewelry? What are you doing here? Did you hate the whole world? Did someo