"To tell you the truth. Brother, I don't find anything very special
about gold teeth. I think I'd rather have diamond teeth."
That very moment, thirty-two crystal-clear diamonds sparkled in his
mouth as he smiled spitefully. Gazing at himself in the little bronze mirror
the old dandy carried in his belt, Omar Asaf was quite pleased with what he
saw.
There were only three things that somehow clouded his triumph. First,
Hottabych did not seem at all envious; second, his diamond teeth sparkled
only when the light fell upon them directly. If the light did not fall upon
them, he appeared completely toothless; third, his diamond teeth scratched
his tongue and lips. In his heart of hearts, he was sorry he had been so
greedy, but he did not show this so as not to lose face.
"No, no," he giggled, noticing that Volka was about to leave the cabin.
"You shall not leave until the Sun goes down. I understand you only too
well. You want to flee, in order to escape your deserved end. I have no
intention of searching for you all over the boat."
"Why, I can stay in the cabin as long as you want. That will even be
better. Otherwise, I'll have to hunt for you all over the boat when the Sun
doesn't go down. How long do you think I'll have to wait?"
"Not more than nine hours, 0 young braggart," Omar Asaf said, bowing
sarcastically. He snapped the fingers of his left hand and a cumbersome
water-clock appeared on the table beneath the port-hole. "As soon as the
water reaches this line," he said, tapping the side of the clock with a
crooked brown nail, "the Sun will go down. It is the hour of your death."
"Fine, I'll wait."
"We'll wait, too," said Zhenya and Hottabych.
Eight hours slipped by quickly, because Zhenya could not deny himself
the pleasure of suggesting that the conceited Omar Asaf learn to play
checkers.
"I'll win anyway," Omar Asaf warned.
Zhenya kept on winning. Omar Asaf got angrier and angrier. He tried to
cheat, but each time they caught him at it, and so he would begin a new
game, which would end just as sadly for him.
"Well, the time's up, Omar Hottabych," Volka said finally.
"Impossible!" Omar Asaf replied, tearing himself away from the checker
board.
Glancing quickly at the water-clock, he turned pale and jumped up from
the berth where he and Zhenya had been sitting. He rushed to the port-hole,
stuck his head out and groaned in terror and helpless rage: the Sun was just
as high in the sky as it had been eight hours before!
Then he turned to Volka and said in a flat voice:
"I must have made a little mistake in my calculations. Let's wait two
more hours."
"Even three if you like, but it won't help you any. It'll be just as I
said: the Sun will not go down today, or tomorrow, or the day after
tomorrow."
Four and a half hours later, Omar Asaf stuck his head out of the
port-hole for the twentieth time, and for the twentieth time he saw that the
Sun had no intention of sinking beyond the horizon.
He turned as white as a sheet and trembled all over as he crashed to
his knees.
"Spare me, 0 mighty youth!" he cried in a pitiful voice. "Do not be
angry at me, your unworthy slave, for when I shouted at you I did not know
you were stronger than I!"
"Does that mean you think you can shout at me if I'm weaker than you?"
"Why, certainly."
They all felt disgusted.
"What a brother you have," Zhenya whispered to Hottabych. "Forgive me
for saying so, but he's a most unpleasant, envious and vicious old man."
"Yes, my brother is no lump of sugar," Hottabych replied sadly.
"For goodness' sake, get up!" Volka said with annoyance, as the old
Genie remained on his knees and kept trying to kiss Volka's hands.
"What are your orders, 0 my young but mighty master?" Omar Asaf asked
submissively, rubbing his soft palms together and rising.
"At present, there's only one; don't you dare leave this cabin for a
second without my permission!"
"With the greatest of pleasure, 0 wisest and most powerful of youths,"
Omar Asaf replied in a self-abasing tone, as he regarded Volka with fear and
awe.
It was just as Volka had predicted. Neither that day nor the next, nor
the third did the Sun go down. Making use of some small misdemeanour of Omar
Asaf's, Volka said he would make the Sun shine round the clock until further
notice. And not until he learned from the captain that the "Ladoga" had
finally entered a latitude where there was a brief period of night, did he
inform Omar Asaf of this, as his special favour to the undeserving, grumpy
Genie.
Omar Asaf was as quiet as a mouse. Not once did he leave the cabin. He
crept back into the copper vessel without a murmur when the "Ladoga" docked
to the strains of a band at its home pier, from which it had sailed away
thirty days before.
Naturally, Omar Asaf was extremely reluctant to return to his bottle,
if even for a short period, since he had already spent so many unhappy and
lonely centuries there. But Volka gave him his word of honour that he would
let him out the minute they reached home.
There is no use denying that as Volka left the hospitable "Ladoga,"
carrying the copper vessel under his arm, he was sorely tempted to toss it
into the water. But there you are-if you've given your word you've got to
keep it. And so Volka walked down the gang-plank, having conquered this
momentary temptation.
If no one aboard the "Ladoga" ever stopped to wonder why Hottabych and
his friends were taking part in the expedition, it is quite clear that the
old man had no trouble casting the same spell over his young friends'
parents and acquaintances.
At any rate, their relatives and friends accepted it as a matter of
course that the children had been in the Arctic, without questioning how in
the world they had ever booked berths on the Ladoga."
After an excellent dinner, the children told their respective parents
the story of their adventures in the Arctic, keeping almost true to the
facts. They were wise enough to say nothing about Hottabych. Zhenya,
however, was so carried away, that the rash words nearly slipped out of his
mouth. When he described the performances the passengers had put on in the
lounge, he said:
"And then, of course, Hottabych could not leave it at that. So he
said...."
"What a strange name-Hottabych!" Zhenya's mother said.
"I didn't say 'Hottabych,' Mother, I said 'Potapych.' That was our
boatswain's name," Zhenya said resourcefully, though he blushed.
However, this went unnoticed. Everyone looked at him with awe, because
he had met and talked with a real live boatswain every single day of the
journey.
Volka, on the other hand, nearly had an accident with the copper
bottle. He was sitting on the couch in the dining room, explaining the
difference between an ice-breaker and an iceboat to his parents with a true
knowledge of his subject. He did not notice his grandmother leaving the
room. After she had been gone for about five minutes, she returned holding
... the vessel with Omar Asaf inside!
"What's this? Where did you get it. Mother?" Volka's father asked.
"Just imagine, I found it in Volka's suitcase. I started unpacking his
things and found this very nice pitcher. It will be lovely as a decanter.
I'll have to polish it, though, because it's so terribly green."
"That's no decanter!" Volka cried and turned pale. He grabbed the
vessel from his grandmother. "The First Mate asked me to give this to his
friend. I promised him I'd deliver it today."
"My, isn't this a strange vessel," said his father, a great lover of
antiques. "Let me have a look at it. Why, there's a lead cap on it. That's
very interesting...."
He tried to pry it off, but Volka grabbed the vessel frantically and
stammered:
"You're not supposed to open it! It's not supposed to be opened at all!
Anyway, it's empty inside. I promised the First Mate I wouldn't open it,
so's not to spoil the threads on the screw."
"Look how upset he is! All right, you can have the old pitcher back,"
his father said, letting go of it.
Volka sat back on the couch in exhaustion, clutching the terrible
vessel; but the conversation was all spoiled. Soon he rose. Trying to sound
casual, he said he would go to , hand in the pitcher and dashed out of the
room.
"Come back soon!" his mother called, but by then he had already
vanished.
Zhenya and Hottabych had been awaiting Volka on the bank for a long
time. It was very still. The vast sky was spread above them. The full moon
cast its cold, bluish light.
Zhenya had brought his binoculars along and was now looking at the
moon.
"You can dismiss the astronomy club," Volka said, coming up to them.
"The next act on our show is the solemn freeing of our good friend, Omar
Asaf! Music! Curtain!"
"That mean old thing will have to manage without music," Zhenya
muttered.
In order to emphasize his loathing for the horrible Genie, he turned
his back on the vessel and studied the moon through his binoculars for such
a long time, that he finally heard Omar Asaf's squeaky voice:
"May your humble servant, 0 mighty Volka, ask what purpose these black
pipes serve which your friend Zhenya- and my greatly esteemed master-has
pressed to his noble eyes?"
"They're binoculars. It's to see things closer," Volka tried to
explain. "Zhenya's looking at the moon through them, to see it better. It
makes things bigger."
"I can imagine how pleasant such a pastime can be," Omar Asaf said
ingratiatingly.
He kept trying to peep into the binoculars, but Zhenya purposely turned
away from him. The conceited Genie was cut to the quick by such a lack of
respect. Oh, if not for the presence of the almighty Volka, who had stopped
the Sun itself with a single word, then Omar Asaf would certainly have known
how to deal with the unruly boy! But Volka was standing beside them, and the
enraged Genie had no choice but to ask Zhenya in a wheedling voice to let
him have a look at the great planet of the night through such interesting
binoculars.
"I join my brother in asking you to do him this favour," Hottabych
added.
Zhenya reluctantly handed Omar Asaf the binoculars.
"The despicable boy has cast a spell on the magic pipes!":
Omar Asaf cried a few moments later and crashed the binoculars to the
ground. "Instead of making things bigger, they make the moon much smaller!
Oh, some day I will lay my hands on this boy!"
"You're always ready to abuse people!" Volka said in disgust. "What has
Zhenya to do with it? You're looking through the wrong end."
He picked up the binoculars and handed them back to the angry Genie.
"You have to look through the small end."
Omar Asaf followed his advice cautiously and soon sighed:
"Alas, I had a much better opinion of this celestial body. I see that
it is all pock-marked and has ragged edges, just like the tray of the
poorest day-labourer. The stars are much better.-Though they are much
smaller than the moon, they at least have no visible faults."
"0 my brother, let me see for myself," Hottabych said and he, too,
looked through the binoculars with interest. "This time I believe my brother
is right," he added with surprise.
This made it only too clear that Omar Asaf had long since fallen
greatly in his estimation.
"What ignorance," Zhenya scoffed. "It's high time you knew that the
moon is millions of times smaller than any of the stars."
"Enough! I can no longer take the constant mockery of this brat!" Omar
Asaf roared and grabbed Zhenya by the collar. "Next, you'll say that a speck
of sand is bigger than a mountain. I wouldn't put it past you. Enough! This
time I'll do away with you for good!"
"Stop!" Volka shouted. "Stop, or I'll bring the Moon down upon you, and
not even a wet spot will remain where you now stand! You know I can do it
with my eyes closed. I think you know me by now."
The enraged Omar Asaf reluctantly let go of a frightened Zhenya.
"You're raving for nothing again," Volka continued. "Zhenya's right.
Sit down and I'll try to explain things to you."
"You don't have to explain anything to me. I know everything already,"
Omar Asaf objected conceitedly. Yet, he dared not disobey.
Volka could talk about astronomy for hours on end. This was his
favourite subject. He had read every popular book on the structure of the
Universe and could retell their contents to anyone who'd care to listen. But
Omar Asaf obviously did not want to listen. He kept on snickering
contemptuously. Finally unable to control himself any longer, he grumbled:
"I'll never believe your words until I convince myself of their truth."
"What do you mean 'convince yourself? Don't tell me you want to fly to
the Moon in order to be convinced that it's a huge sphere and not a little
saucer?"
"And why not?" Omar Asaf asked haughtily. "Why, I can fly off today, if
I want to."
"But the Moon is millions of miles away."
"Omar Asaf is not afraid of great distances. And all the more so,
since-forgive me-I greatly doubt the truth of your words."
"But the way to the Moon lies through outer space, where there's no
air," Volka objected conscientiously.
"I can manage quite well without breathing."
"Let him go! We'll have plenty of trouble with him if he stays," Zhenya
whispered fiercely.
"Sure, he can go," Volka agreed quietly, "but still, I consider it my
duty to warn him about what awaits him on the way.... Omar Asaf," he
continued, turning towards the conceited Genie, "bear in mind that it's
terribly cold there."
"I am not afraid of the cold. I'll be seeing you soon. Good-bye!"
"If that's the case, and if you've decided to fly to the Moon, come
what may, then at least listen to one piece of advice. Do you promise to
obey my words?"
"All right, I promise," the Genie answered condescendingly, his awe of
Volka obviously diminishing.
"You must leave the Earth at a speed of no less than eleven kilometres
a second; otherwise you can be sure you'll never reach the Moon."
"With the greatest of pleasure," Omar Asaf said, compressing his thin
blue lips. "And how big is a kilometre? Tell me, for I know of no such
measurement."
"Let's see now. How can I explain?... Well, a kilometre is about a
thousand four hundred steps."
"Your steps? That means there are no more than a thousand two hundred
of my steps in a kilometre. Maybe even less."
Omar Asaf had an exaggerated idea about his height. He was no taller
than Volka, but they could not convince him of this.
"Be sure not to crash into the cupola of the Heavens," Hottabych
admonished his brother, not being completely convinced of Volka's stories
about the structure of the Universe.
"Don't teach someone who knows more than you," Omar Asaf said coldly
and soared into the air. He instantly became white hot and disappeared from
view, leaving a long fiery trail behind.
"Let's wait for him here, my friends," Hottabych suggested timidly, for
he felt guilty for all the unpleasantness Omar Asaf had caused them.
"No, there's no use waiting for him now. You'll never see him again,"
Volka said. "He didn't listen to my advice, which was based on scientific
knowledge, and he'll never return to the Earth. Since your Omar took off at
a speed which was less than eleven kilometres a second, he'll be circling
the Earth forever. If you want to know, he's become a sputnik."
"If you have no objections, I'll wait for him here a while," a saddened
Hottabych whispered.
Late that night he slipped into Volka's room. Turning into a goldfish,
he dived silently into the aquarium. Whenever Hottabych was upset by
anything, he spent the night in the aquarium instead of under Volka's bed.
This time he was especially upset. He had waited for his brother for over
five hours, but Omar Asaf had not returned.
Some day scientists will develop precision instruments that will make
it possible to note the smallest amount of gravitation the Earth experiences
from the tiniest of celestial bodies passing close to its surface. And then
an astronomer, who, perhaps, read this book in his childhood, will
determine, after long and laborious calculations, that someplace,
comparatively close to the Earth, there rotates a celestial body weighing a
hundred and thirty pounds. Then, Omar Asaf, a grouchy and narrow-minded
Genie who turned into an Earth satellite because of his impossible character
and ignorant scoffing at scientific facts, will be entered into the great
astronomical catalogue as a many-numbered figure.
Someone who heard of this instructive tale about Hottabych's brother
once told us in all seriousness that one night he had seen something flash
across the sky which in shape resembled an old man with a long flowing
beard. As concerns the author of this book, he does not believe the story,
for Omar Asaf was a very insignificant man.
HOTTABYCH'S FATAL PASSION
For several days Hottabych remained in the aquarium, pining away for
his brother. Gradually, however, he got used to his absence and once again
everything was back to normal.
One day he and the boys were talking quietly. It was still rather early
and the old man was lolling under the bed.
"It looks like rain," Zhenya said, looking out the window.
Soon the whole sky became overcast with clouds. It started to drizzle.
"Shall we turn it on?" Volka asked off-handedly, nodding towards a new
radio set his parents had given him for being promoted to 7B. He turned it
on with obvious pleasure.
The loud sounds of a symphony orchestra filled the room. Hottabych
stuck his head out from under the bed.
"Where are all those people playing so sweetly on various instruments?"
"Golly! Hottabych doesn't know anything about radios!" Zhenya said.
(There was one omission on the "Ladoga" for all its excellent
equipment-they forgot to install a radio set in the lounge.)
For nearly two hours the boys watched Hottabych delightedly. The old
man was overwhelmed. Volka tuned in on Vladivostok, Tbilisi, Kiev,
Leningrad, Minsk and Tashkent. Songs, thunderous marches, and the voices of
people speaking in many tongues obediently poured forth from the set. Then
the boys got fed up. The sun peeped out and they decided to go for a walk,
leaving a fascinated Hottabych behind. The strange events which then
occurred remain a mystery to Volka's grandmother to this very day.
Soon after the boys left, she entered Volka's room to turn off the
radio and distinctly heard an old man coughing in the empty room. Then she
saw the dial turn by itself and the indicator move along the scale.
The frightened old woman decided not to touch the set, but to find
Volka immediately. She caught up with him at the bus stop. Volka was very
upset. He said he was improving the set, that he was making it automatic,
and he begged his grandmother not to tell his parents what she had seen,
because it was supposed to be a surprise for them. His grandmother was not
at all comforted by these words. Nevertheless, she promised to keep his
secret. All afternoon she listened anxiously to the strange mumbling coming
from the empty room.
That day the radio played on and on. At about two o'clock at night it
went off, but only because the old man had forgotten how to tune in on
Tashkent. He woke Volka up, asked him how to do it, and returned to the set.
A fatal thing had happened: Hottabych had become a radio fan.
HOTTABYCH'S NEW YEAR VISIT
During the winter vacation, Zhenya went to visit his relatives in
Zvenigorod. On January 4th he received a letter, which was of extreme
interest for at least three reasons. In the first place, this was the first
letter he had ever received in which he was addressed by his full name, as a
grown man. In the second place, it was the first letter Hottabych had ever
written to his young friend. But of greatest interest were the contents of
this most remarkable message.
Following is the letter, slightly abridged:
"0 most lovable and precious friend, the sweet and singular adornment
of all schools and sports fields, the fond hope of your native arts and
sciences, the joy and pride of your parents and friends, Zhenya ibn Kolya,
from the famous and noble family of Bogorads, may your life's road be strewn
with thornless roses and may it be as long as your pupil, Hassan
Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab, wishes it to be!
"I hope you remember how great my joy and gratitude were when, six
months ago, you, 0 my young friend and friend of my young saviour, released
my unfortunate brother Omar Asaf ibn Hottab, from whom I was so grievously
separated for many centuries, from his horrible imprisonment in the copper
vessel.
"But immediately following my first joy of a long-awaited reunion,
there came a terrible disappointment, for my brother turned out to be an
ungrateful, short-sighted, narrow-minded, grouchy and envious person. And
he, as you well remember, took it upon himself to fly to the Moon, in order
to be convinced whether its surface was truly covered with mountains, as our
highly educated friend Volka ibn Alyosha stated, basing his knowledge on a
science called Astronomy.
"Alas! It was not a selfless thirst for knowledge that guided my unwise
brother, nor the noble and exemplary desire to discover the World, but a
vain and ignorant wish to belittle and shame a person who had tried to hold
him back from committing a fatal deed.
"He did not even take into account the laws of another science called
'Mechanics,' and thereby doomed himself to an eternal and useless circling
of the Earth, which, as I recently discovered (who could have ever dreamed
of it!) in turn revolves around the Sun!
"Three days ago I received a message from you, 0 Zhenya ibn Kolya,
which bears the scientific name of 'Telegram,' and in which you so
graciously and pleasantly wished me a Happy New Year. And then I recalled
that my unpleasant, but extremely unfortunate brother is spinning round in
the sky day and night and that there is no one to wish him a Happy New Year.
And so, I prepared for a journey, and exactly at noon I took off for the far
distances of Outer Space, in order to visit Omar Asaf, to wish him a Happy
New Year, and, if it were at all possible, to help him return to the Earth.
"I will not tire your kind attention, 0 Zhenya ibn Kolya, with a
description of how I was able to manage the Law of Universal Gravitation.
For this is not the purpose of my message. Suffice it to say that at first I
took off at approximately the same speed as Omar Asaf, and, as he, I turned
into a satellite of the Earth, but only temporarily, and only long enough
for a meeting with Omar. Then, when I saw it was time for me to return to
the Earth, I turned to face it and assumed the speed necessary for
overcoming the forces which revolved me about the Earth, just as a pail of
water tied to a string would revolve round a boy who held the string. It is
of no use to write what my speed was. When I next see you, I will show you
all the calculations I did with the aid of my knowledge of Mathematics,
Astronomy and Mechanics, which you and Volka ibn Alyosha so graciously and
patiently taught me. But this is not the point in question. I sincerely
wished to visit my poor brother...."
Hottabych had apparently burst into tears at this point, for the ink
was all smudged. That is why we find we must leave out several lines.
"Leaving the Earth, so full of cheerful noonday light behind, I soon
entered an area as black as pitch that was terribly and unbearably cold. As
before, the far-off stars sparkled in the icy darkness with a bright but
dead, unblinking light, and the pale yellow disk of the flaming Sun blinded
my eyes.
"I flew on and on, amidst the cold darkness and silence. I was about to
despair, when, suddenly, on the black velvet of the sky, there appeared a
skinny body, brightly illumined by the Sun. It was approaching me at
tremendous speed, and the long beard flowing behind like the tail of a
comet, as well as the incessant and vicious grumbling, told me beyond doubt
it was my brother.
" 'Salaam, dear Omar!' I cried, when he came abreast of me. 'How is
your health?'
" 'Not bad,' Omar answered reluctantly and in an unfriendly voice. 'As
you see, I revolve around the Earth.' He chewed his lips and added dryly,
'Tell me what you want. Don't forget that I'm a busy man. State what you
want and be off.'
" 'What are you so busy at, 0 my good brother?'
" 'What do you mean what at?! Didn't you hear me say I'm now working as
a sputnik? I keep revolving like mad, day and night, without a moment's
rest.'
" '0 woe is me!' I cried in great sorrow. 'How sad and uninteresting
your life must be, amidst this eternal cold and darkness, in constant and
useless revolving, apart from all living things!' And I burst into tears,
for I was so terribly sorry for my brother. But in answer to my heartfelt
words, Omar Asaf replied coldly and haughtily:
" 'Don't feel sorry for me, for I am less in need of pity than anyone
else on Earth. Just look around and you'll be convinced that I'm the largest
of all celestial bodies. True enough, both the Sun and the Moon shed
light-though I don't-and are even quite bright, but I am much larger than
they are. I don't even mention the stars, which are so small that a great
multitude of them could fit on my finger-nail.' Something which resembled a
kindly smile appeared on his face. 'If you wish, you can join me and become
my sputnik. We will revolve together. Then, not counting me, you'll be the
largest of all celestial bodies.'
"In vain did I rejoice at this brotherly show of affection, though it
may have taken a rather strange form, for Omar Asaf continued as follows:
" 'All celestial bodies have their sputniks, but I have none. It makes
me feel inferior.'
"I was amazed at the ignorance and stupid conceit of my brother. I
understood that he did not want to return to the Earth and so said with a
heavy heart:
" 'Farewell, for I am in a hurry. I still have to wish some of my
friends a Happy New Year.'
"But Omar, who, apparently, had his heart set on this idea of his,
roared:
" 'Then who will be my sputnik? You had better remain of your own free
will, or I'll tear you to bits!'
"With these words he grabbed hold of my left leg. I kept my wits and
turned sharply to a side, wrenching free of Omar, though leaving in his
grasp one of my slippers. Naturally, he wanted to catch up with me, but he
could not do so, for he had to continue his endless journey around a circle
known by the scientific name of 'orbit.'
"Flying off to a good distance, and still feeling a bit sorry for my
unpleasant and conceited brother, I shouted:
" 'If you are so in need of sputniks, 0 Omar Asaf, you shall have
them!'
"I yanked five hairs from my beard, tore them to bits and scattered
them about. Then many-coloured, beautiful balls, ranging in size from a pea
to a large pumpkin, began revolving around Omar Asaf. These were sputniks
worthy of him both in size and in beauty.
"My brother, a short-sighted person, had apparently never thought of
making his own sputniks. Now, in his great pride, he desired to have a
sputnik the size of a mountain. And so, such a sputnik immediately appeared.
But since the mass of matter within this mountain was hundreds of thousands
of times greater than the weight of my scatter-brained and ignorant brother
Omar Asaf, he immediately crashed into the new celestial body he had created
and bounded off it like a football. With a terrible wail, he began revolving
around it at top speed.
"Thus, Omar Asaf fell a victim to his terrible vanity by becoming the
sputnik of his own sputnik.
"I returned to the Earth and sat down to write you this letter, 0 you,
who have all good assets, in order that you do not remain in ignorance of
the above events.
"I also hurry to add that on Gorky Street, at the radio store, I saw a
wonderful set with nine tubes. And its virtues are endless. Its appearance
would please the most choosy eye. It occurred to me that if I were to
attach...."
The letter then continued as a typical radio fan's letter would, and
there is no sense quoting it, for radio fans will not find anything new in
it, and those who are not interested in this branch of communications will
find nothing in it worthy of their attention.
If any of the readers of this really truthful story are in Moscow on
Razin Street and look in at the offices of the Central Board of the Northern
Sea Route, they will probably see among the dozens of people putting in
applications for work in the Arctic an old man in a straw boater and pink
slippers embroidered in silver and gold. This is Hottabych. Despite all his
efforts, he has not been able to procure a job as a radio-operator on some
polar station.
His appearance alone, with the long grey beard reaching down to his
waist, a sure sign of his undoubtedly advanced age, is a great hindrance in
finding employment in the harsh conditions of the Arctic. However, his
situation becomes still more hopeless when he begins to fill in the
application form.
In answer to the question: "Occupation," he writes: "Professional
Genie." In answer to the question: "Age," he writes: "3,732 years and five
months." As to family status, he replies simple-heartedly: "Orphan. Single.
I have a brother named Omar Asaf who, until July of last year, lived on the
bottom of the Arctic Ocean in a copper vessel, but who now works as an Earth
satellite," etc., etc., etc.
After reading his application form, the personnel manager decides that
Hottabych is slightly crazy, though the readers of our story know only too
well that what the old man has written is nothing but the truth.
Naturally, it would be no trouble for him at all to become a young man
and to fill in the form as it should be; or, if the worst came to the worst,
to cast the same spell on the personnel manager as he had once before, when
he and his friends boarded the "Ladoga." But the trouble is the old man has
decided he wants to get a job in the Arctic honestly, without any fakery at
all.
However, he has been visiting the Board offices less and less
frequently lately. Instead, he has decided to study radio technology, to
learn how to design his own radio equipment. Knowing his abilities and his
love for work, it is not such a hopeless matter. What he needs now are
competent teachers. Hottabych wants his young friends to be his teachers.
All they could promise him, as we already know, is that they will teach him
what they learn from day to day. Hottabych considered this and decided that
it was not such a bad idea after all.
Thus, both Volka and Zhenya are very conscientious, straight "A"
pupils, for they don't want to fail their elderly student. They have agreed
that they will help Hottabych finish secondary school together with them.
But at this point their roads will part. As you recall, Zhenya had long
since decided to become a doctor, while Volka shares Hottabych's passion. He
wants to become a radio engineer, and I assure you that he will make his way
in this difficult but fascinating field.
It remains for us to bid farewell to the characters of this story and
to wish the three friends good health and good luck in their studies and
their future lives. If you ever meet them, please say hello to them from the
author who invented them with great love and tenderness.
Moscow
1938-1955
_________________________________________
Printed in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
about gold teeth. I think I'd rather have diamond teeth."
That very moment, thirty-two crystal-clear diamonds sparkled in his
mouth as he smiled spitefully. Gazing at himself in the little bronze mirror
the old dandy carried in his belt, Omar Asaf was quite pleased with what he
saw.
There were only three things that somehow clouded his triumph. First,
Hottabych did not seem at all envious; second, his diamond teeth sparkled
only when the light fell upon them directly. If the light did not fall upon
them, he appeared completely toothless; third, his diamond teeth scratched
his tongue and lips. In his heart of hearts, he was sorry he had been so
greedy, but he did not show this so as not to lose face.
"No, no," he giggled, noticing that Volka was about to leave the cabin.
"You shall not leave until the Sun goes down. I understand you only too
well. You want to flee, in order to escape your deserved end. I have no
intention of searching for you all over the boat."
"Why, I can stay in the cabin as long as you want. That will even be
better. Otherwise, I'll have to hunt for you all over the boat when the Sun
doesn't go down. How long do you think I'll have to wait?"
"Not more than nine hours, 0 young braggart," Omar Asaf said, bowing
sarcastically. He snapped the fingers of his left hand and a cumbersome
water-clock appeared on the table beneath the port-hole. "As soon as the
water reaches this line," he said, tapping the side of the clock with a
crooked brown nail, "the Sun will go down. It is the hour of your death."
"Fine, I'll wait."
"We'll wait, too," said Zhenya and Hottabych.
Eight hours slipped by quickly, because Zhenya could not deny himself
the pleasure of suggesting that the conceited Omar Asaf learn to play
checkers.
"I'll win anyway," Omar Asaf warned.
Zhenya kept on winning. Omar Asaf got angrier and angrier. He tried to
cheat, but each time they caught him at it, and so he would begin a new
game, which would end just as sadly for him.
"Well, the time's up, Omar Hottabych," Volka said finally.
"Impossible!" Omar Asaf replied, tearing himself away from the checker
board.
Glancing quickly at the water-clock, he turned pale and jumped up from
the berth where he and Zhenya had been sitting. He rushed to the port-hole,
stuck his head out and groaned in terror and helpless rage: the Sun was just
as high in the sky as it had been eight hours before!
Then he turned to Volka and said in a flat voice:
"I must have made a little mistake in my calculations. Let's wait two
more hours."
"Even three if you like, but it won't help you any. It'll be just as I
said: the Sun will not go down today, or tomorrow, or the day after
tomorrow."
Four and a half hours later, Omar Asaf stuck his head out of the
port-hole for the twentieth time, and for the twentieth time he saw that the
Sun had no intention of sinking beyond the horizon.
He turned as white as a sheet and trembled all over as he crashed to
his knees.
"Spare me, 0 mighty youth!" he cried in a pitiful voice. "Do not be
angry at me, your unworthy slave, for when I shouted at you I did not know
you were stronger than I!"
"Does that mean you think you can shout at me if I'm weaker than you?"
"Why, certainly."
They all felt disgusted.
"What a brother you have," Zhenya whispered to Hottabych. "Forgive me
for saying so, but he's a most unpleasant, envious and vicious old man."
"Yes, my brother is no lump of sugar," Hottabych replied sadly.
"For goodness' sake, get up!" Volka said with annoyance, as the old
Genie remained on his knees and kept trying to kiss Volka's hands.
"What are your orders, 0 my young but mighty master?" Omar Asaf asked
submissively, rubbing his soft palms together and rising.
"At present, there's only one; don't you dare leave this cabin for a
second without my permission!"
"With the greatest of pleasure, 0 wisest and most powerful of youths,"
Omar Asaf replied in a self-abasing tone, as he regarded Volka with fear and
awe.
It was just as Volka had predicted. Neither that day nor the next, nor
the third did the Sun go down. Making use of some small misdemeanour of Omar
Asaf's, Volka said he would make the Sun shine round the clock until further
notice. And not until he learned from the captain that the "Ladoga" had
finally entered a latitude where there was a brief period of night, did he
inform Omar Asaf of this, as his special favour to the undeserving, grumpy
Genie.
Omar Asaf was as quiet as a mouse. Not once did he leave the cabin. He
crept back into the copper vessel without a murmur when the "Ladoga" docked
to the strains of a band at its home pier, from which it had sailed away
thirty days before.
Naturally, Omar Asaf was extremely reluctant to return to his bottle,
if even for a short period, since he had already spent so many unhappy and
lonely centuries there. But Volka gave him his word of honour that he would
let him out the minute they reached home.
There is no use denying that as Volka left the hospitable "Ladoga,"
carrying the copper vessel under his arm, he was sorely tempted to toss it
into the water. But there you are-if you've given your word you've got to
keep it. And so Volka walked down the gang-plank, having conquered this
momentary temptation.
If no one aboard the "Ladoga" ever stopped to wonder why Hottabych and
his friends were taking part in the expedition, it is quite clear that the
old man had no trouble casting the same spell over his young friends'
parents and acquaintances.
At any rate, their relatives and friends accepted it as a matter of
course that the children had been in the Arctic, without questioning how in
the world they had ever booked berths on the Ladoga."
After an excellent dinner, the children told their respective parents
the story of their adventures in the Arctic, keeping almost true to the
facts. They were wise enough to say nothing about Hottabych. Zhenya,
however, was so carried away, that the rash words nearly slipped out of his
mouth. When he described the performances the passengers had put on in the
lounge, he said:
"And then, of course, Hottabych could not leave it at that. So he
said...."
"What a strange name-Hottabych!" Zhenya's mother said.
"I didn't say 'Hottabych,' Mother, I said 'Potapych.' That was our
boatswain's name," Zhenya said resourcefully, though he blushed.
However, this went unnoticed. Everyone looked at him with awe, because
he had met and talked with a real live boatswain every single day of the
journey.
Volka, on the other hand, nearly had an accident with the copper
bottle. He was sitting on the couch in the dining room, explaining the
difference between an ice-breaker and an iceboat to his parents with a true
knowledge of his subject. He did not notice his grandmother leaving the
room. After she had been gone for about five minutes, she returned holding
... the vessel with Omar Asaf inside!
"What's this? Where did you get it. Mother?" Volka's father asked.
"Just imagine, I found it in Volka's suitcase. I started unpacking his
things and found this very nice pitcher. It will be lovely as a decanter.
I'll have to polish it, though, because it's so terribly green."
"That's no decanter!" Volka cried and turned pale. He grabbed the
vessel from his grandmother. "The First Mate asked me to give this to his
friend. I promised him I'd deliver it today."
"My, isn't this a strange vessel," said his father, a great lover of
antiques. "Let me have a look at it. Why, there's a lead cap on it. That's
very interesting...."
He tried to pry it off, but Volka grabbed the vessel frantically and
stammered:
"You're not supposed to open it! It's not supposed to be opened at all!
Anyway, it's empty inside. I promised the First Mate I wouldn't open it,
so's not to spoil the threads on the screw."
"Look how upset he is! All right, you can have the old pitcher back,"
his father said, letting go of it.
Volka sat back on the couch in exhaustion, clutching the terrible
vessel; but the conversation was all spoiled. Soon he rose. Trying to sound
casual, he said he would go to , hand in the pitcher and dashed out of the
room.
"Come back soon!" his mother called, but by then he had already
vanished.
Zhenya and Hottabych had been awaiting Volka on the bank for a long
time. It was very still. The vast sky was spread above them. The full moon
cast its cold, bluish light.
Zhenya had brought his binoculars along and was now looking at the
moon.
"You can dismiss the astronomy club," Volka said, coming up to them.
"The next act on our show is the solemn freeing of our good friend, Omar
Asaf! Music! Curtain!"
"That mean old thing will have to manage without music," Zhenya
muttered.
In order to emphasize his loathing for the horrible Genie, he turned
his back on the vessel and studied the moon through his binoculars for such
a long time, that he finally heard Omar Asaf's squeaky voice:
"May your humble servant, 0 mighty Volka, ask what purpose these black
pipes serve which your friend Zhenya- and my greatly esteemed master-has
pressed to his noble eyes?"
"They're binoculars. It's to see things closer," Volka tried to
explain. "Zhenya's looking at the moon through them, to see it better. It
makes things bigger."
"I can imagine how pleasant such a pastime can be," Omar Asaf said
ingratiatingly.
He kept trying to peep into the binoculars, but Zhenya purposely turned
away from him. The conceited Genie was cut to the quick by such a lack of
respect. Oh, if not for the presence of the almighty Volka, who had stopped
the Sun itself with a single word, then Omar Asaf would certainly have known
how to deal with the unruly boy! But Volka was standing beside them, and the
enraged Genie had no choice but to ask Zhenya in a wheedling voice to let
him have a look at the great planet of the night through such interesting
binoculars.
"I join my brother in asking you to do him this favour," Hottabych
added.
Zhenya reluctantly handed Omar Asaf the binoculars.
"The despicable boy has cast a spell on the magic pipes!":
Omar Asaf cried a few moments later and crashed the binoculars to the
ground. "Instead of making things bigger, they make the moon much smaller!
Oh, some day I will lay my hands on this boy!"
"You're always ready to abuse people!" Volka said in disgust. "What has
Zhenya to do with it? You're looking through the wrong end."
He picked up the binoculars and handed them back to the angry Genie.
"You have to look through the small end."
Omar Asaf followed his advice cautiously and soon sighed:
"Alas, I had a much better opinion of this celestial body. I see that
it is all pock-marked and has ragged edges, just like the tray of the
poorest day-labourer. The stars are much better.-Though they are much
smaller than the moon, they at least have no visible faults."
"0 my brother, let me see for myself," Hottabych said and he, too,
looked through the binoculars with interest. "This time I believe my brother
is right," he added with surprise.
This made it only too clear that Omar Asaf had long since fallen
greatly in his estimation.
"What ignorance," Zhenya scoffed. "It's high time you knew that the
moon is millions of times smaller than any of the stars."
"Enough! I can no longer take the constant mockery of this brat!" Omar
Asaf roared and grabbed Zhenya by the collar. "Next, you'll say that a speck
of sand is bigger than a mountain. I wouldn't put it past you. Enough! This
time I'll do away with you for good!"
"Stop!" Volka shouted. "Stop, or I'll bring the Moon down upon you, and
not even a wet spot will remain where you now stand! You know I can do it
with my eyes closed. I think you know me by now."
The enraged Omar Asaf reluctantly let go of a frightened Zhenya.
"You're raving for nothing again," Volka continued. "Zhenya's right.
Sit down and I'll try to explain things to you."
"You don't have to explain anything to me. I know everything already,"
Omar Asaf objected conceitedly. Yet, he dared not disobey.
Volka could talk about astronomy for hours on end. This was his
favourite subject. He had read every popular book on the structure of the
Universe and could retell their contents to anyone who'd care to listen. But
Omar Asaf obviously did not want to listen. He kept on snickering
contemptuously. Finally unable to control himself any longer, he grumbled:
"I'll never believe your words until I convince myself of their truth."
"What do you mean 'convince yourself? Don't tell me you want to fly to
the Moon in order to be convinced that it's a huge sphere and not a little
saucer?"
"And why not?" Omar Asaf asked haughtily. "Why, I can fly off today, if
I want to."
"But the Moon is millions of miles away."
"Omar Asaf is not afraid of great distances. And all the more so,
since-forgive me-I greatly doubt the truth of your words."
"But the way to the Moon lies through outer space, where there's no
air," Volka objected conscientiously.
"I can manage quite well without breathing."
"Let him go! We'll have plenty of trouble with him if he stays," Zhenya
whispered fiercely.
"Sure, he can go," Volka agreed quietly, "but still, I consider it my
duty to warn him about what awaits him on the way.... Omar Asaf," he
continued, turning towards the conceited Genie, "bear in mind that it's
terribly cold there."
"I am not afraid of the cold. I'll be seeing you soon. Good-bye!"
"If that's the case, and if you've decided to fly to the Moon, come
what may, then at least listen to one piece of advice. Do you promise to
obey my words?"
"All right, I promise," the Genie answered condescendingly, his awe of
Volka obviously diminishing.
"You must leave the Earth at a speed of no less than eleven kilometres
a second; otherwise you can be sure you'll never reach the Moon."
"With the greatest of pleasure," Omar Asaf said, compressing his thin
blue lips. "And how big is a kilometre? Tell me, for I know of no such
measurement."
"Let's see now. How can I explain?... Well, a kilometre is about a
thousand four hundred steps."
"Your steps? That means there are no more than a thousand two hundred
of my steps in a kilometre. Maybe even less."
Omar Asaf had an exaggerated idea about his height. He was no taller
than Volka, but they could not convince him of this.
"Be sure not to crash into the cupola of the Heavens," Hottabych
admonished his brother, not being completely convinced of Volka's stories
about the structure of the Universe.
"Don't teach someone who knows more than you," Omar Asaf said coldly
and soared into the air. He instantly became white hot and disappeared from
view, leaving a long fiery trail behind.
"Let's wait for him here, my friends," Hottabych suggested timidly, for
he felt guilty for all the unpleasantness Omar Asaf had caused them.
"No, there's no use waiting for him now. You'll never see him again,"
Volka said. "He didn't listen to my advice, which was based on scientific
knowledge, and he'll never return to the Earth. Since your Omar took off at
a speed which was less than eleven kilometres a second, he'll be circling
the Earth forever. If you want to know, he's become a sputnik."
"If you have no objections, I'll wait for him here a while," a saddened
Hottabych whispered.
Late that night he slipped into Volka's room. Turning into a goldfish,
he dived silently into the aquarium. Whenever Hottabych was upset by
anything, he spent the night in the aquarium instead of under Volka's bed.
This time he was especially upset. He had waited for his brother for over
five hours, but Omar Asaf had not returned.
Some day scientists will develop precision instruments that will make
it possible to note the smallest amount of gravitation the Earth experiences
from the tiniest of celestial bodies passing close to its surface. And then
an astronomer, who, perhaps, read this book in his childhood, will
determine, after long and laborious calculations, that someplace,
comparatively close to the Earth, there rotates a celestial body weighing a
hundred and thirty pounds. Then, Omar Asaf, a grouchy and narrow-minded
Genie who turned into an Earth satellite because of his impossible character
and ignorant scoffing at scientific facts, will be entered into the great
astronomical catalogue as a many-numbered figure.
Someone who heard of this instructive tale about Hottabych's brother
once told us in all seriousness that one night he had seen something flash
across the sky which in shape resembled an old man with a long flowing
beard. As concerns the author of this book, he does not believe the story,
for Omar Asaf was a very insignificant man.
HOTTABYCH'S FATAL PASSION
For several days Hottabych remained in the aquarium, pining away for
his brother. Gradually, however, he got used to his absence and once again
everything was back to normal.
One day he and the boys were talking quietly. It was still rather early
and the old man was lolling under the bed.
"It looks like rain," Zhenya said, looking out the window.
Soon the whole sky became overcast with clouds. It started to drizzle.
"Shall we turn it on?" Volka asked off-handedly, nodding towards a new
radio set his parents had given him for being promoted to 7B. He turned it
on with obvious pleasure.
The loud sounds of a symphony orchestra filled the room. Hottabych
stuck his head out from under the bed.
"Where are all those people playing so sweetly on various instruments?"
"Golly! Hottabych doesn't know anything about radios!" Zhenya said.
(There was one omission on the "Ladoga" for all its excellent
equipment-they forgot to install a radio set in the lounge.)
For nearly two hours the boys watched Hottabych delightedly. The old
man was overwhelmed. Volka tuned in on Vladivostok, Tbilisi, Kiev,
Leningrad, Minsk and Tashkent. Songs, thunderous marches, and the voices of
people speaking in many tongues obediently poured forth from the set. Then
the boys got fed up. The sun peeped out and they decided to go for a walk,
leaving a fascinated Hottabych behind. The strange events which then
occurred remain a mystery to Volka's grandmother to this very day.
Soon after the boys left, she entered Volka's room to turn off the
radio and distinctly heard an old man coughing in the empty room. Then she
saw the dial turn by itself and the indicator move along the scale.
The frightened old woman decided not to touch the set, but to find
Volka immediately. She caught up with him at the bus stop. Volka was very
upset. He said he was improving the set, that he was making it automatic,
and he begged his grandmother not to tell his parents what she had seen,
because it was supposed to be a surprise for them. His grandmother was not
at all comforted by these words. Nevertheless, she promised to keep his
secret. All afternoon she listened anxiously to the strange mumbling coming
from the empty room.
That day the radio played on and on. At about two o'clock at night it
went off, but only because the old man had forgotten how to tune in on
Tashkent. He woke Volka up, asked him how to do it, and returned to the set.
A fatal thing had happened: Hottabych had become a radio fan.
HOTTABYCH'S NEW YEAR VISIT
During the winter vacation, Zhenya went to visit his relatives in
Zvenigorod. On January 4th he received a letter, which was of extreme
interest for at least three reasons. In the first place, this was the first
letter he had ever received in which he was addressed by his full name, as a
grown man. In the second place, it was the first letter Hottabych had ever
written to his young friend. But of greatest interest were the contents of
this most remarkable message.
Following is the letter, slightly abridged:
"0 most lovable and precious friend, the sweet and singular adornment
of all schools and sports fields, the fond hope of your native arts and
sciences, the joy and pride of your parents and friends, Zhenya ibn Kolya,
from the famous and noble family of Bogorads, may your life's road be strewn
with thornless roses and may it be as long as your pupil, Hassan
Abdurrakhman ibn Hottab, wishes it to be!
"I hope you remember how great my joy and gratitude were when, six
months ago, you, 0 my young friend and friend of my young saviour, released
my unfortunate brother Omar Asaf ibn Hottab, from whom I was so grievously
separated for many centuries, from his horrible imprisonment in the copper
vessel.
"But immediately following my first joy of a long-awaited reunion,
there came a terrible disappointment, for my brother turned out to be an
ungrateful, short-sighted, narrow-minded, grouchy and envious person. And
he, as you well remember, took it upon himself to fly to the Moon, in order
to be convinced whether its surface was truly covered with mountains, as our
highly educated friend Volka ibn Alyosha stated, basing his knowledge on a
science called Astronomy.
"Alas! It was not a selfless thirst for knowledge that guided my unwise
brother, nor the noble and exemplary desire to discover the World, but a
vain and ignorant wish to belittle and shame a person who had tried to hold
him back from committing a fatal deed.
"He did not even take into account the laws of another science called
'Mechanics,' and thereby doomed himself to an eternal and useless circling
of the Earth, which, as I recently discovered (who could have ever dreamed
of it!) in turn revolves around the Sun!
"Three days ago I received a message from you, 0 Zhenya ibn Kolya,
which bears the scientific name of 'Telegram,' and in which you so
graciously and pleasantly wished me a Happy New Year. And then I recalled
that my unpleasant, but extremely unfortunate brother is spinning round in
the sky day and night and that there is no one to wish him a Happy New Year.
And so, I prepared for a journey, and exactly at noon I took off for the far
distances of Outer Space, in order to visit Omar Asaf, to wish him a Happy
New Year, and, if it were at all possible, to help him return to the Earth.
"I will not tire your kind attention, 0 Zhenya ibn Kolya, with a
description of how I was able to manage the Law of Universal Gravitation.
For this is not the purpose of my message. Suffice it to say that at first I
took off at approximately the same speed as Omar Asaf, and, as he, I turned
into a satellite of the Earth, but only temporarily, and only long enough
for a meeting with Omar. Then, when I saw it was time for me to return to
the Earth, I turned to face it and assumed the speed necessary for
overcoming the forces which revolved me about the Earth, just as a pail of
water tied to a string would revolve round a boy who held the string. It is
of no use to write what my speed was. When I next see you, I will show you
all the calculations I did with the aid of my knowledge of Mathematics,
Astronomy and Mechanics, which you and Volka ibn Alyosha so graciously and
patiently taught me. But this is not the point in question. I sincerely
wished to visit my poor brother...."
Hottabych had apparently burst into tears at this point, for the ink
was all smudged. That is why we find we must leave out several lines.
"Leaving the Earth, so full of cheerful noonday light behind, I soon
entered an area as black as pitch that was terribly and unbearably cold. As
before, the far-off stars sparkled in the icy darkness with a bright but
dead, unblinking light, and the pale yellow disk of the flaming Sun blinded
my eyes.
"I flew on and on, amidst the cold darkness and silence. I was about to
despair, when, suddenly, on the black velvet of the sky, there appeared a
skinny body, brightly illumined by the Sun. It was approaching me at
tremendous speed, and the long beard flowing behind like the tail of a
comet, as well as the incessant and vicious grumbling, told me beyond doubt
it was my brother.
" 'Salaam, dear Omar!' I cried, when he came abreast of me. 'How is
your health?'
" 'Not bad,' Omar answered reluctantly and in an unfriendly voice. 'As
you see, I revolve around the Earth.' He chewed his lips and added dryly,
'Tell me what you want. Don't forget that I'm a busy man. State what you
want and be off.'
" 'What are you so busy at, 0 my good brother?'
" 'What do you mean what at?! Didn't you hear me say I'm now working as
a sputnik? I keep revolving like mad, day and night, without a moment's
rest.'
" '0 woe is me!' I cried in great sorrow. 'How sad and uninteresting
your life must be, amidst this eternal cold and darkness, in constant and
useless revolving, apart from all living things!' And I burst into tears,
for I was so terribly sorry for my brother. But in answer to my heartfelt
words, Omar Asaf replied coldly and haughtily:
" 'Don't feel sorry for me, for I am less in need of pity than anyone
else on Earth. Just look around and you'll be convinced that I'm the largest
of all celestial bodies. True enough, both the Sun and the Moon shed
light-though I don't-and are even quite bright, but I am much larger than
they are. I don't even mention the stars, which are so small that a great
multitude of them could fit on my finger-nail.' Something which resembled a
kindly smile appeared on his face. 'If you wish, you can join me and become
my sputnik. We will revolve together. Then, not counting me, you'll be the
largest of all celestial bodies.'
"In vain did I rejoice at this brotherly show of affection, though it
may have taken a rather strange form, for Omar Asaf continued as follows:
" 'All celestial bodies have their sputniks, but I have none. It makes
me feel inferior.'
"I was amazed at the ignorance and stupid conceit of my brother. I
understood that he did not want to return to the Earth and so said with a
heavy heart:
" 'Farewell, for I am in a hurry. I still have to wish some of my
friends a Happy New Year.'
"But Omar, who, apparently, had his heart set on this idea of his,
roared:
" 'Then who will be my sputnik? You had better remain of your own free
will, or I'll tear you to bits!'
"With these words he grabbed hold of my left leg. I kept my wits and
turned sharply to a side, wrenching free of Omar, though leaving in his
grasp one of my slippers. Naturally, he wanted to catch up with me, but he
could not do so, for he had to continue his endless journey around a circle
known by the scientific name of 'orbit.'
"Flying off to a good distance, and still feeling a bit sorry for my
unpleasant and conceited brother, I shouted:
" 'If you are so in need of sputniks, 0 Omar Asaf, you shall have
them!'
"I yanked five hairs from my beard, tore them to bits and scattered
them about. Then many-coloured, beautiful balls, ranging in size from a pea
to a large pumpkin, began revolving around Omar Asaf. These were sputniks
worthy of him both in size and in beauty.
"My brother, a short-sighted person, had apparently never thought of
making his own sputniks. Now, in his great pride, he desired to have a
sputnik the size of a mountain. And so, such a sputnik immediately appeared.
But since the mass of matter within this mountain was hundreds of thousands
of times greater than the weight of my scatter-brained and ignorant brother
Omar Asaf, he immediately crashed into the new celestial body he had created
and bounded off it like a football. With a terrible wail, he began revolving
around it at top speed.
"Thus, Omar Asaf fell a victim to his terrible vanity by becoming the
sputnik of his own sputnik.
"I returned to the Earth and sat down to write you this letter, 0 you,
who have all good assets, in order that you do not remain in ignorance of
the above events.
"I also hurry to add that on Gorky Street, at the radio store, I saw a
wonderful set with nine tubes. And its virtues are endless. Its appearance
would please the most choosy eye. It occurred to me that if I were to
attach...."
The letter then continued as a typical radio fan's letter would, and
there is no sense quoting it, for radio fans will not find anything new in
it, and those who are not interested in this branch of communications will
find nothing in it worthy of their attention.
If any of the readers of this really truthful story are in Moscow on
Razin Street and look in at the offices of the Central Board of the Northern
Sea Route, they will probably see among the dozens of people putting in
applications for work in the Arctic an old man in a straw boater and pink
slippers embroidered in silver and gold. This is Hottabych. Despite all his
efforts, he has not been able to procure a job as a radio-operator on some
polar station.
His appearance alone, with the long grey beard reaching down to his
waist, a sure sign of his undoubtedly advanced age, is a great hindrance in
finding employment in the harsh conditions of the Arctic. However, his
situation becomes still more hopeless when he begins to fill in the
application form.
In answer to the question: "Occupation," he writes: "Professional
Genie." In answer to the question: "Age," he writes: "3,732 years and five
months." As to family status, he replies simple-heartedly: "Orphan. Single.
I have a brother named Omar Asaf who, until July of last year, lived on the
bottom of the Arctic Ocean in a copper vessel, but who now works as an Earth
satellite," etc., etc., etc.
After reading his application form, the personnel manager decides that
Hottabych is slightly crazy, though the readers of our story know only too
well that what the old man has written is nothing but the truth.
Naturally, it would be no trouble for him at all to become a young man
and to fill in the form as it should be; or, if the worst came to the worst,
to cast the same spell on the personnel manager as he had once before, when
he and his friends boarded the "Ladoga." But the trouble is the old man has
decided he wants to get a job in the Arctic honestly, without any fakery at
all.
However, he has been visiting the Board offices less and less
frequently lately. Instead, he has decided to study radio technology, to
learn how to design his own radio equipment. Knowing his abilities and his
love for work, it is not such a hopeless matter. What he needs now are
competent teachers. Hottabych wants his young friends to be his teachers.
All they could promise him, as we already know, is that they will teach him
what they learn from day to day. Hottabych considered this and decided that
it was not such a bad idea after all.
Thus, both Volka and Zhenya are very conscientious, straight "A"
pupils, for they don't want to fail their elderly student. They have agreed
that they will help Hottabych finish secondary school together with them.
But at this point their roads will part. As you recall, Zhenya had long
since decided to become a doctor, while Volka shares Hottabych's passion. He
wants to become a radio engineer, and I assure you that he will make his way
in this difficult but fascinating field.
It remains for us to bid farewell to the characters of this story and
to wish the three friends good health and good luck in their studies and
their future lives. If you ever meet them, please say hello to them from the
author who invented them with great love and tenderness.
Moscow
1938-1955
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Printed in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics