The morning sky brightens quite quickly with dawn, and the stars disappear from it one after another. Only one luminary remains visible longer than the others. This is Venus, the planet - the morning star. It is many times brighter than Sirius for an earthly observer and is second in the night sky in this sense only to the Moon.

Features of movement across the sky

Today, almost everyone knows which planet is called the “morning star” and why. The beautiful Venus appears in the sky shortly before sunrise. After dawn, it remains visible longer than other luminaries due to its brightness. The most eagle-eyed observers can see a white dot in the sky for several hours after sunrise - this is the “morning star” planet.

Venus also appears before sunset. In this case it is called the evening star. As the sun sinks below the horizon, the planet becomes brighter. It can be observed for several hours, then Venus sets. It doesn't appear in the middle of the night.

Second from the Sun

The answer to the question “which planet is called the morning star” could have been different if Venus was in the distant part solar system. A similar nickname was given to the cosmic body not only because of the characteristics of its movement across the sky, but also because of its brightness. The latter, in turn, is the result of the position of the planet relative to the Earth and the Sun.

Venus is our neighbor. At the same time, it is the second planet from the Sun, almost identical in size to Earth. Venus is the only one of its kind suitable for such close quarters to our home (minimum distance 40 million kilometers). These factors allow you to admire it without the help of telescopes or binoculars.

Things from days gone by

In ancient times, the answers to the question of which planet is called the morning star and which is the evening star did not coincide. It was not immediately noticed that the luminaries that precede their appearance at sunrise and sunset are one and the same cosmic body. Ancient astronomers carefully monitored these stars, and poets created legends about them. After some time, careful observation bore fruit. The discovery is attributed to Pythagoras and dates back to 570-500. BC e. The scientist suggested that the planet known as the morning star is also the evening star. Since then, we have known a lot about Venus.

Mysterious planet

The cosmic body named after it, as if justifying its name, excited the minds of astronomers for a long time, but did not allow them to get closer to unraveling its secrets. Almost until the 60s of the last century, Venus was considered a twin of the Earth, and there was talk about the possibility of discovering life on it. This was greatly facilitated by the discovery of its atmosphere. The discovery was made in 1761 by M.V. Lomonosov.

Improvements in technology and research methods have made it possible to study Venus in more detail. It turned out that dense atmosphere the planet is mainly composed of carbon dioxide. Its surface is always hidden from observation by a layer of clouds, probably consisting of sulfuric acid. The temperature on Venus exceeds all thresholds imaginable for humans: it reaches 450 ºС. This and other features of the planet became the reason for the collapse of all theories that suggested life on a cosmic body close to us.

Gas giant

However, the question “which planet is called the morning star” has another answer, and more than one. Sometimes this name is used to denote Jupiter. The gas giant, although it is a considerable distance from our planet and is located further than Mars from the Sun, is immediately behind Venus in terms of brightness in the sky. They can often be seen close to each other. As recently as early July 2015, Venus and Jupiter were visible as a beautiful double star.

It should be noted that the gas giant is quite often accessible for observation throughout the night. Therefore, it cannot be called as suitable a candidate for the role of the morning star as Venus. However, this does not make it a less interesting and beautiful sky object.

Closest to the Sun

There is another morning star. The planet other than Venus and Jupiter so designated is Mercury. The cosmic body closest to the Sun is named after the Roman messenger of the gods for its speed. Either ahead of or catching up with the daylight, for an earthly observer Mercury is visible alternately in the evening and morning hours. This makes him related to Venus. The small planet is therefore also historically called the morning and evening star.

Elusive

The peculiarities of Mercury's movement and proximity to the Sun make it difficult to observe. Ideal places for this are low latitudes and the equator region. Mercury is best visible during the period of maximum distance from the Sun (this time is called elongation). In mid-latitudes, the likelihood of seeing one decreases greatly. This is only possible during the best elongations. Mercury is inaccessible to observers from high latitudes.

The planet's visibility is cyclical. The period is from 3.5 to 4.5 months. If Mercury, moving in its orbit, overtakes the daylight clockwise for an earthly observer, then at this time it can be seen in the morning hours. When it is behind the Sun, there is a chance to observe the fastest planet in the system in the evening. Each time Mercury is visible for about ten days.

Thus, this planet is called the morning star with good reason. However, this “nickname” of Mercury is not known to everyone for obvious reasons: seeing it in the sky is a rare success due to its close location to the daylight star, as well as its relatively small size.

So, which planet is called the morning star? We can say with all certainty that such a question implies the answer “Venus”, less often “Mercury” and almost never, although this is possible, “Jupiter”. The planet, named after the goddess of love, due to its proximity to the Earth and high reflectivity, and therefore brightness, is more noticeable to an observer inexperienced in astronomy, and therefore will always firmly occupy the place of the most beautiful morning star for the majority.

This time let's look at the Evening Star model. The pattern often appears on a live stock chart and works like a charm! in any timeframe. Traders make good money on this common and uncomplicated Price Action model.

On English language the model is called Evening Star.

The evening star figure consists of three candles. Their shape and location should be as follows:

• 1 candle – large bullish with small shadows or without them at all;
• 2nd candle – neutral with or without a small body and wicks. Can be either bullish or bearish small candle;
• 3rd candle – a large bearish one with small shadows or no shadows at all;
• in the classic version, the presence of a gap (gap) between the middle candle and the extreme ones is a prerequisite. However, it can also be considered simply as a reinforcing part of the pattern.

Location of the Evening Star candlestick pattern

The evening star is a reversal pattern. Is a bearish formation. Accordingly, it occurs on an uptrend. The first candle in the pattern forms the high of the trend. Then a second candle appears with a small body, but also with a new high. That is, the second candle is located above the first. The third candle confirms the trend reversal. The closing of the third candle gives a sell signal.

The figure opposite in location to the evening star is the morning star.

Boosting the signal of the Evening Star model

When to enter a trade

Closing the 3rd long bearish candle gives the green light to execute the trade. The formation of this candle tells us that the upward trend has changed to a downward one and that the bears have sufficient strength.

When not to enter a trade

If the model does not at least partially satisfy its shape and location, and does not have reinforcing features, then we do not enter into the transaction. It's not worth the risk again. Only trading according to the rules of the setup will allow you to make a profit.

Greetings, readers of the trading blog. In this article we will look at such strong candle models, indicating a change in trend, like stars. Star in candlestick analysis, it is a candle with a small body that forms a price gap with the previous candle with a large body.

General characteristics:

• The main condition for the formation of a star is the gap between its body and the body of the previous candle;
• Intersection of shadows is allowed;
• Appear both at the tops and at the bottoms;
• The color of the star doesn't matter.

On this page we will analyze the following candlestick patterns: morning star, evening star, shooting star, doji stars and inverted hammer.

It is important: all material is presented in the form short summary based on the book “Japanese Candlesticks” by S. Nisson. We will consider all the necessary aspects of trading candlestick patterns in the relevant articles.

• Is a bottom reversal pattern;
• Consists of three candles. The first two are the general model of the star discussed above;
• The third candle is white and covers a significant part of the black body of the first;
• Ideally, the model contains price gaps before and after the body of the middle candle (star). But this is not a necessary condition and is rarely observed.

Model Evening Star (EVENING STAR)

• Is a top reversal pattern;
• The exact opposite of the morning star model.

Amplifying signals for the “morning star” and “evening star” models:

• The presence of gaps between the bodies of the first candle and the star, as well as between the bodies of the star and the third candle;
• The body of the third candle overlaps a significant part of the body of the first candle;
• Low trading volume during the first trading session (first candle) and high volume during the third trading session (third candle).

Doji Star Models

• Formed when the middle candle (star) has no body (opening and closing prices are at the same level);
• The model is applicable to the first two patterns: “morning doji star” and “evening doji star”;
• If the shadows of the doji star and the other two candles of the pattern do not intersect, then this is called an “abandoned baby” (a strong candlestick pattern, but it is quite rare).

Model shooting star (SHOOTING STAR)

• Is a reversal pattern on top ();
• Consists of two candles that fall under General characteristics, discussed above;
• The body of the shooting star is small and is located at the lower part of the price range of the candle; the upper shadow is long, and the lower one is either absent or very short;

Model inverted hammer (INVERTED HAMMER)

• • Is a reversal pattern at the bottom ( does not apply to strong candlestick patterns);

• The exact opposite of the “shooting star” (although this model is not considered a star).

Technical and candlestick analysis have a sufficient number of patterns that clearly indicate a trend reversal in the opposite direction. At all times, the problem with their applications boiled down to the fact that not everything is simple in trading. Therefore, what one sees, the other will not necessarily see.

I will try to convey the description from the author as accurately as possible and show on screenshots how I see these patterns.

Candlestick pattern “Morning Star”

Pattern "Morning Star"- bullish reversal pattern. This name indicates that the model predicts higher prices. It consists of a long black body followed by a small body, with a gap between them. The third day turns out to be a white body that moves inside the black body of the first day. Ideally, the morning star has breaks before and after the midday body (star).

Candlestick pattern “Evening Star”

The bearish counterpart of the morning star turns out to be "Evening Star". Because the evening star is a bearish pattern, it appears during or following an uptrend. The first day is a long white body followed by a star. Remember that the body of the star is detached from the body of the previous day. A star's small body is the first sign of indecision. The next day there is a gap down, the pattern ends at an even lower closing price. Like the morning star, the evening star must have a gap between the first and second bodies, and then another gap between the second and third bodies. Some sources do not mention the second break.

Pattern recognition rules

1. The first day always has a color that supports the existing trend. That is, an uptrend results in a long white body on the first day of the evening star, and a downtrend results in a black first day on the morning star.
2. There is always a gap between the second day - the star - and the body of the first day. The color of the second day is not important.
3. The third day is always the opposite color of the first day.
4. The first and most likely the third days can be considered long.

Scenarios and Psychology Behind the Reversal Pattern

Pattern "Morning Star"

The situation unfolds as follows. When a downward trend develops, a long black candle appears. This leaves no room for doubt about the continuation of the downward trend. The next day, when the session opens, there is a downward price gap, trading is carried out in a narrow range, and the session closes near the opening price. This small body shows that a period of indecision has begun. The next day when opening there is a gap upward, and then the trading session closes at a significantly higher price. An important trend reversal appears.

Evening Star pattern

The scenario of the evening star is completely opposite to the scenario of the morning star.

Model flexibility

Ideally, there is one gap between the body of the first candle and the star and a second gap between the body of the star and the body of the third candle. There is some flexibility in the issue of the gap between the star and the body of the third day. If the closing price of the third candle goes deep inside the body of the first candle, a significantly stronger move may follow, especially if there is a lot of volume in the trading on the third day. Sometimes in the literature there are examples of the closing price of the third day, which went further than the middle of the body of the first day.

Related Models

The next few models are essentially special variations of the morning or evening star. These are the morning and evening doji stars, abandoned baby and three stars.

Model Conversion

The morning star is reduced to a paper umbrella or hammer, which fully supports the bullish nature of the morning star. The evening star pattern boils down to a shooting star, which is also a bearish candlestick and fully supports the nature of the pattern.

All of the above text is copied from the book by Gregory L. Morris. Japanese candles.

How to trade the Morning Star and Evening Star patterns on Forex

As you can see, the author offers strict rules for searching for the models in question. It is very likely that these patterns occur on low-volatile instruments in their original form, but such variations are not observed on the charts of futures and Forex currency pairs.

My opinion is that in modern realities, you should not use the “Morning Star” and “Evening Star” reversal patterns, as they say in the book.

Below is a screenshot of one of the variations in the appearance of the “Evening Star” pattern.

Rice. 1. Evening Star.

Figure 1 shows the Evening Star candlestick pattern. Please note that if you had to examine and compare the found figure with a figure from the book, you could immediately say: “The pattern was found by mistake.”

I consider this model in conjunction with some factors, namely:

• resistance level;
• Shooting Star (in the book version there should be a Top);
• and the third candle shows a downward movement.

The above three facts give us the right to think that the candle found is indeed a reversal pattern.

Rice. 2. Morning Star.

In Figure 2, the reversal pattern “Morning Star” is found. Again, a completely different model is presented in the book.

In our case, you will find something between “Hara” and “Hammer”, and only the third candle is drawn exactly as in the book. I don’t want to argue, it’s quite possible that the model cannot be rephrased this way, but for me it works and very much resembles the book version of the candle.

Also in this example, several reversal patterns of candlestick analysis are collected, indicating a possible up trend.

I think the important factor is:

• level of support;
• Morning Star candle (which consists of Harami or Hammer);
• and pay attention further down the market, a “Bullish Engulfing” reversal pattern appears.

All these figures appeared at the support level. I assure you, the very fact of their appearance does not mean anything, but everything taken together gives a powerful bullish signal to the trader.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I can say that the “Morning Star and Evening Star” candlestick analysis figure is, so to speak, a daughter model of the “Doji Star”. The only bookish difference is that the second candle of the model should be a “Star”, and in the candle “Morning Star” and “Evening Star”, “Spinning Top”.

In my interpretation, the second candle has different types. In one case it’s Harami, in another case it’s Hammer, but I assure you that’s not all. The main rule is to look for a reversal pattern from support/resistance levels, near trend lines, or use it as a filter for your trading systems.

I hope this article will help you reduce losing trades and increase profitable ones. Happy bidding to all of us!!!

If Victor worked first, he had to get up early. Trying not to make noise, he hurriedly swallowed his breakfast. He smacked the still sleeping children. They slept so comfortably - two of them on one bed, the youngest - Yulenka, the eldest - Masha. His wife put the “brake” in his bosom and he jumped out of the door.

The elevator, as always, did not work. Jumping over the steps, he rushed down from his ninth floor.

I went straight to the mine, didn’t use the bus - I saved money. First, through my neighborhood, past the panel boxes, then through the old mining village, past an abandoned mine overgrown with grass.

When I walked, for some reason I always raised my head and looked at the sky. If the sky was clear, then it always burned above the mine, slightly to the side. It was like this for many years. This has already become a habit. You look for her with your eyes, you will find her, and your soul immediately becomes calm and warm. His star is burning, his Venus is burning.

His mother said: when she gave birth to him in agony in the morning, she looked at the sky - it was beginning to get light, clear, clear, the stars faded away, melted into the milky space, only she, alone, shone with a quiet, gentle light. And so, the mother said, she became happy that she gave birth to a son, she wanted to live so much that she could not stand it and burst into tears of happy tears...

“You, son,” said the mother, “were born under a lucky star. This star is called Shepherd’s, and it brings happiness...” Later, Victor learned (told by one smart guy, Kolya Zamyatin, who later died in Afghanistan) that this star is scientifically called Venus. Venus, since ancient times, is the Goddess of Beauty. The second name is the Morning and Evening star. The Shepherd's Star is the popular name. It lit up before all the stars and went out later than all the stars. The shepherds drive out the cattle very early - it is burning, they drive it back home in the evening - it is still light - it is already lit, hanging in the sky, blinking.

Beautiful star. Good. Affectionate.

Victor walked through his neighborhood, walked along the railroad tracks, past the open-pit mine, then through the mining village in the lowlands. The old workings sank, creating a hollow in which dilapidated houses, left over from the thirties, lived out their lives. And above them, towered the brown silhouette of their native mine. The pile driver was sticking out, the wheel of the lift was spinning, and the old waste heap, carved by the winds, darkened like a heavy barn; a five-pointed star and large three-dimensional letters on the mine administration building were blackened above the headframe: “Glory to miner’s labor!” Previously, the star and letters burned all night. Not now. Once upon a time, trolleys quickly ran back and forth along the waste heaps of mines. Then the burnt rock (gorelik) began to be poured into waste pits, into lowlands formed from soil shrinkage - the so-called “land reclamation”, and the familiar silhouette of the city with triangles of waste heaps began to disappear.

The morning morning was fresh and invigorating, the sky was blue, and from below, from behind the horizon, a pale pink sun was climbing into the sky, and the star in the sky became almost invisible, almost disappeared, and the mine superstructures, headframes, lumber yard cranes became rigid, as if they had been cut out of tin.

The front gardens near the houses are already full of apples. They fell onto the ground, which had cooled overnight. There were a lot of worms this year. Victor picked up one apple that had fallen at his feet and began to chew as he walked.

The guy's biography is simple. After school they joined the army. After being demobilized and having a little rest with his mother in the village, he drove off to his uncle’s coal mines. He completed the courses and began working at the mine as a “thunderstorm” - a miner at the longwall face. I got married and was given a room in the family hostel. My wife and I wanted a daughter – Masha appeared. They gave birth to a second child, and again a daughter. The brigade teased: “You, Streltsov, are a bad shooter. You’re shooting past!” The work in the mine is notoriously hard and dangerous. I had to do everything: “shovel” the coal (throw the whole shift), and drill holes for clearing, and fasten the support, and move the pans. Mine. Anything can happen here. Wait: then a piece of rock weighing half a ton will fall on your head, then methane gas will go off, then... There was a case in their brigade three years ago: a young miner went to clean up the face after clearing, and he accidentally got hit with a butt due to a “failure” - an unexploded cartridge with ammonite. He blew himself up. It's been two years since he left the army. Got married. The baby daughter remained... But this happened...

For Verka's mother and sister, working in a mine seemed something creepy. “Son, leave it, this mine. Why are you pestering her? It will crush you, God forbid,” a mother from the village used to write in every letter. But Victor liked his mining work, although it was hard and dangerous, it was interesting and lucrative. Work six hours, two days off, what more do you need?

Coal mining began here even before the revolution. But the mines grew especially large in the thirties, when thousands of village men poured into them in search of happiness, when they overtook the dispossessed prisoners. Uncle Streltsov also arrived here from the village. He worked at the mine for a quarter of a century, retired and moved back to the village. During the war, Labor Army soldiers, evicted Germans from the Volga region, prisoners of war, Ukrainians, Tatars, Uzbeks worked at the mine...

The city grew chaotically. Near each mine under construction, a “self-construction” arose: dugouts, mud huts, barracks, turning over time into comfortable villages. The city turned out to be scattered, stretching for tens of kilometers: mine - village, mine - village...

Their coal is brown. High ash content. Brown coal was especially needed when steam locomotives were running. A stone stone would instantly burn out the grates in the furnaces. It was about Ural coal that Lenin said: “Coal is the real bread of industry.” Over time, the mines became larger and others closed. Of the thirty-six mines, only five remained, and their fate was unknown. There was talk of closure. But what to do with such a mass of miners? Each mine employed 1.5-2 thousand strong men.

For several years since the beginning of the reforms, the mine where Streltsov worked was in a fever. Either there was no timber, which the mine needed hundreds of cubic meters of, or fastening metal arches, or concrete ties, or it was let down by outdated equipment - there are many reasons, a modern mine is a very complex organism. And most importantly, the mine did not have the money to pay its suppliers and the miners themselves. Who knew that Perestroika would turn out to be such a tragicomedy for the miners: the most advanced and most conscious workers' detachment, those people who brought the rulers to power, were not paid for months.

It was absurd, it was incomprehensible.

However, the situation was no better for the rest of the residents of the mining town. Salaries were not paid for six months or more. The chaos was not only in the coal industry. He was all over the country.

The miners, even though they were an organized people, did not organize protests. They didn’t go on strikes, even though they were egged on by the communists. They believed that the president, the government, the regional administration, the head of the city would finally remember that it was they, the miners, who brought them to power. But the authorities seem to have forgotten about them.

There were cases when people couldn’t stand it. It was said that at a nearby mine, one miner, in despair, threw himself into the shaft and fell to his death.

And recently, having arrived at his mine, Victor learned that eleven miners had gone on hunger strike. Roma Zavyalov, running past in full night shift gear, widened his eyes and blurted out: “Did you hear that, Sagittarius?!” Our people went on a hunger strike!..” Roma’s eyes were jumping with excitement and his lips were trembling ever so slightly.

The miners, having risen to the surface and, grimy as they were, did not give up their uniforms and self-rescuers, went to the red corner and lay down on the floor. They posted their demands on a piece of paper on the doors. Victor’s fellow countryman, Yurka Cheskidov, also took part in the hunger strike, the same one with whom they came from the village.

Before going down into the mine, Victor went to look at the rebels. The miners huddled near the door, whispering quietly, as if there was a dead man behind it. Looking into the room, I saw Cheskidov: he was lying with his eyes closed, he tiredly opened them when the door creaked. Victor waved his hand at him, and Yurka closed his eyes in response. Right there, in the red corner, were the site manager and the trade unionist. The section chief was excitedly proving something to the trade unionist.

The director of the mine, Ratansky, a small, energetic and strong-willed man, ran along the corridor with his retinue. The face is confused and angry. “We ran in!..”

Victor hurried to the locker room. He changed into overalls, received a lamp and a self-rescuer in the lamp room, and badges in the service room, and moved towards the cage. While they were waiting for the cage and flying down to their “horizon,” everyone was dejectedly silent. Only young Tolya Buyanov, pursing his lips, muttered: “These are filthy bitches!..” They did not specify who it was. It was already clear.

The work didn't really work out. Half the shifts sat and wasted away - the engine of the combine went down, and the “thunderstorms”, huddled in a heap near the wall of the lava, exchanged short angry phrases and made fire at the authorities.

So what will they achieve with their hunger strike? Do you think they will win anything? – someone asked from the darkness.

What, are you playing football? - Buyanov responded. - They will win... They will not win...

Yes, they brought the scoundrels to power. For them, we are working animals! – this was said by the taciturn and gloomy Khudyakov. Although he was old, he worked like a thunderstorm.

“Here, brothers, correspondents came to the mine,” another began to tell. “Ratan didn’t let them in to see the strikers.” But one nimble little woman made it through. The microphone is shoved into Pashka Vizgunov’s mouth: “Why aren’t you working? Why are you starving? What are you unhappy about?”

So what did Pashka answer?

Why did you answer? “I don’t like traitors,” he says.

What traitors?

Well, those, he says, are in power.

Nevermind!

And it’s like with a woman. You love her, give her food and drink, and she fucks someone else. So are the bosses. Thanks to us, they came to power, and they screwed us over...

Tolya Buyanov is interested in the story with the microphone, he sarcastically teases:

Well, did she put her microphone in his mouth or not?

I would bite off her microphone from hunger! – a remark from another miner can be heard.

"Thunderstorms" laugh. They just want to grin, the miners are rude people, and there is no one to be shy in the lava.

Electrical mechanic Grisha Veselov, a merry fellow and a laugher, enters the conversation. His surname matches his character. The wavy forelock came out from under the helmet.

Brothers, it's a mystery! How much does our beloved director Ratanchik earn?

Fuck you with your riddles!

None of the “thunderstorms” knew how much the director and his deputies received; it was a sealed secret. There were rumors that there were a lot. The bosses have separate statements, and no one has seen them.

Well, you fucking shareholder! – Grishka Veselov did not back down. - Well, answer, come on!

It doesn't bother me. In the wrong hands, you know, horseradish is always thicker...

Not interested, then?! But in vain! Our Ratanchik receives as much as 100 million.

Come on, Merry, fill it up!

Exactly! We are zero point, hell tenths, and he is a hundred million. His deputies are, of course, smaller. The accountant, stealing alone, told me this in great confidence. Don’t tell anyone, he says, otherwise they’ll throw me out of work in no time. They took a non-disclosure agreement from her.

And what do you want?! For that fought for it and ran!

The director of the Ratansky mine was called the worker differently: Ratan, Ratanchik, sometimes Dwarf for his tiny stature. There were a lot of jokes about this. “Once I was going to the mine, a white Volga was taxiing, Ratan’s head was sticking out over the steering wheel. It drives up, I look, and it’s our Dwarf, standing and steering. Yes, brothers, he stands on the seat and, standing, he steers!” This joke of Grishka Veselov about Ratansky amused the mine for a long time; the author has forgotten how folklore it has become.

After the Volga, Ratansky switched to a Mercedes, and the mockery and malice of ordinary miners increased even more. They said that he was giving rides in his Mercedes to a golden-haired beauty economist whose legs grew right from her ears, fortunately the windows of the director’s Mercedes were smoky, try to guess who was hiding behind the windows. They talked about him all sorts of things: that he sells coal to an intermediary company, where his wife runs it, and that huge amounts of money pass through his hands. At one time, Ratansky married profitably - to a sales worker, the head of the ORS (labor supply department), before that he worked in Mongolia, from where he brought his personal Volga. The guy, in general, is twisted and twisted. And he started with simple hard workers, with “thunderstorms”, then he graduated from a mining technical school and an institute in Sverdlovsk.

Streltsov is far from envy, to each his own. The money, of course, the mine and the association are huge, but where are they, these “money-money”? They do not reach them, mere mortals.

All raw materials have been squandered: oil and gas are pumped abroad for dollars, gold, and soon they will get to coal, says one of the miners sadly.

Who the hell needs him! Let them sell it, as long as the money pays,” someone lazily responds from the corner.

Needed! - they objected to him. - They learned to make money out of everything... The market is a fucking rag!

Tolya Buyanov booms:

Have you read the article “Mining Barons” in the newspaper?

As it turned out, almost everyone read the article. It talked about how the miners' bosses were building luxurious cottages for themselves and lining them with snow-white Koelga marble.

“Thunderstorms” began to discuss a harsh article in a local newspaper, and Veselov remarked:

They'll kill journalism! Sure enough, they'll sew you on.

The mines are in the paddock, and they, the goats, are building marble palaces for themselves,” someone drawled angrily and gloomily.

Here one pensioner worked as a watchman for Ratanchik, he himself was a former builder, he calculated everything, down to the brick. He says: one cottage costs several billion. Where did you get so much, huh?

No one responded, only young Buyanov said:

I would have asked at the shareholders meeting. What, it’s too weak to ask?! So we are all brave.

The miner thought deeply; the lamplight clearly revealed a lumpy forehead, deep hollows of the cheeks, and a narrow, slit mouth. A rat emerged from somewhere and sat down opposite the people, not hiding at all. There are a lot of rats in the mine, now there are much fewer, the “brakes” they took with them were meager, or even not at all, they didn’t leave any scraps. Someone pointed a lamp at the rat, and its eyes flashed with ruby ​​light. The rat was not afraid, and trustingly sniffed the air with its sharp nose.

What, Lariska, do you want to eat? – asked Veselov.

The rat squeaked disgustingly. Someone threw a piece of coal at it, and the rat, squealing loudly and resentfully, disappeared into the darkness of the face.

The silent Khudyakov again could not stand it and cursed rudely at his superiors, flashing the whites of his eyes and adding gloomily with a drawl:

They came out of the shit just like us, but now they are lords... They are filthy rats!..

Something about this gloomy voice, sounded in the dark in a gloomy dungeon under a multimeter thick layer of earth, and this hungry rat had a depressing effect on Streltsov. I suddenly remembered how two years ago they, the miners, made their campaign against the city authorities.

Arriving at the mine in the morning, he sensed something was wrong. Anxious people were running around the mine; gathered everyone on secondment; underground work was cancelled. We lined up in overalls and full uniform in the mine yard near the lift; Then the night shift began to come out of the cage and join them.

They broke up into columns and moved into the city. Along the way, they were joined by columns from other mines. Ahead of the columns walked the energetic Rodyuk, the miner's leader. They walked in silence, four people in a row, with full ammunition - in helmets, with batteries on their sides. People on the streets stopped, seeing the miners off with surprised and alarmed glances; Oncoming cars honked their horns, giving way. A small and crooked old woman on the side of the road screamed in fear: “War, son, shtol?!” Streltsov turned back, the column was just turning around at the bend of the road, he was surprised: “What a force is coming!” The formidable column of miners, indeed, was somewhat similar to the columns of defenders of the Fatherland, which were shown in films or on TV.

Having walked through the entire city, we stopped at the central square of the “Red Partisans”, opposite the podium with a monument to the leader of the proletariat. They stood silently. No one came out to them from the building of the former city committee, and now the city administration. Shadows and frightened, muddy faces flashed in the windows.

They sat down in the square right on the asphalt, took off their helmets, and began knocking. Hundreds of throats rushed to the beat of their helmets: “El-tsi-na!.. El-tsi-na!..”

...The engine for the combine was finally delivered and installed. The combine has been tested.

Guys, get up! Stop snoozing! – the foreman of the “thunderstorms” shouted obscenities.

Everyone quickly jumped up from their seats. Grisha Veselov pulled his helmet down deeper, swore and went into the lava towards the roaring combine, singing:

And the young guy went on a drinking binge!..

The coal started to burn, the parking started. Here, as they say, everyone is honored, especially the main “umbilical” tools of the “thunderstorms” - a crowbar, a shovel, a pick. Instead of one shift, there were two. This didn't happen before. This was a complete violation of miners' labor discipline and safety regulations. Who cared about that now?

While showering and changing clothes, Veselov and Buyanov kept arguing about miners' problems and power. “Well, they brought Yeltsin to power, but what’s the point? - Victor thought, listening to the workers’ debate. - There is no money, no money. And it’s unlikely that anything will change for the better. Everyone promises light at the end of the tunnel, but where is this light? Complete darkness. Complete darkness."

Having quickly handed over the tokens and washed in the shower, I hurried home, choosing the shortest route.

The eleven-story dormitory can be seen from afar. I looked around for my window. It just overlooked the mine. I thought: “I wonder what my old woman has prepared to eat? It’s like a ball in the house.” (Victor sometimes called his wife jokingly and lovingly “old woman”). He tried to get away from the sad thoughts that tormented him in Lately, was in a cheerful mood.

Just as I was about to turn off the asphalt to go straight through the village in the hollow to the house, a car that had come from nowhere turned around and the bumper passed a few centimeters from my leg. I thought it was the director's office, but I was wrong. The car is fashionable, beautiful - a silver foreign car with a raised rear.

Swearing lashed. The car dashed backwards, the darkened window silently rolled down, and the driver's head poked out.

Are you blind, you asshole? Why are you getting under the wheels?!

Victor was preparing to fight back, gathered himself into a ball, looking around the ground: any cobblestone would turn up... It’s clear - a comrade from the “new Russians”. He knew these arrogant jocks in Adidas, with short hair, and the habits of criminals. Yes, in fact, they were like that...

The driver's muzzle is twisted with anger, he seems ready to kill. The eyes are small, deeply hidden, sparkling with rage. Well, why be so upset over a trifle? You see, I crossed the wrong road. But we still need to find out who is to blame.

The eyes were felt, rays appeared along the edges of the eyelids. Bah, that face is familiar! He saw her somewhere. The haircut is short, the hairs on the top of the head stick out on end. The short-haired man's eyes warmed, his mouth stretched into a smile.

Sagittarius, what are you?..

Now he recognized him. Genka Makhnin, Makhnya. Makhnin got out of the car, looking typically “new”: a short leather jacket, wide-leg sports pants with red stripes, like a general’s. He waddled up and casually offered his hand.

Wow, I almost ran over my friend. Long time no see, long time...

While Makhnya lazily muttered his words, Victor took a better look at him. He changed - he cut his hair, he became fatter. Like a wild boar. The boar's eyes fussily run back and forth, feeling the interlocutor's brows from under his brows. There was something restless in this look. And his grin. (Makhnin always smiled insincerely, with some kind of crooked smile).

What are we worth? – Makhnin perked up. -Where are you going, by the way? Sit down - I'll give you a ride.

Yes, I’ll get there, I’m not far away. “To the hostel,” Victor tried to dodge the offer. I wanted to be alone.

Damn him, that Makhnya. I wanted to take a walk through the crossing and get some air. He was not at all happy about the meeting. Well, we met and met...

“You don’t respect me, boss,” Makhnin drawled, pointing to the car. - I don’t take money for travel.

Ok, I'm sold! – Victor’s anger disappeared. Well, he'll take a ride in a foreign car. Never went.

The foreign car, of course, is a cool car: soft, silent, does not roll, but floats along the road. “The landing is just a bit low,” Victor noted to himself. Makhnya poked the radio button - music poured out of the speakers behind him.

We drove, exchanging phrases.

You live well, I see. Yours, or what?

My girlfriend.

What is the name of?

Beautiful name.

“German model,” Makhnin said proudly. He asked: - How do you live? Are you still hunched over at the mine? Aren't you tired?

Where is there more? I'm leaving my shift. And where are you?

Me? Yes, so... I’m skating,” Makhnin hesitated. He let go of the steering wheel and spread his arms. - Free merchant. Bought there, sold here. Bought here and sold there. You know what life is like now... In the North, in Nizhnevartovsk, I worked on a drilling rig for five years. Earnings also disappeared - fucking perestroika. They run in packs. When I was leaving, I bought this Laiba for cheap from a Ukrainian. Taking it to Ukraine is more expensive.

Are you thinking about returning to the mine?

What did I forget in it? No, guy, I still want to live. And the mine is a dead business. Coal used to be the bread of industry. Do they even give you moles any money?

They give. I didn’t receive it for six months.

Like this. But they promised mountains! – Makhnya spat and narrowed his eyes in a bad way. - I'm broke too... Smoke! – he handed over a pack of Camel.

Nice stranded! – Victor noted, looking at the cigarettes with interest. - You smoke Camel...

I'm interrupting...

Makhnin was secretive and greedy for money. You will never know the truth from him. “Kharya got fat in the North. You won't overwork. “I know you like crazy,” Victor thought, looking at the guy’s tenacious hands. “You drag everything into the house.” All for yourself..."

While talking, we quietly approached the hostel. The grandmothers sitting on the benches looked at the arrivals with curiosity. And my neighbor in the section, Aunt Dusya, sarcastically asked:

What, Vitya, tea, did you buy a foreign car?

What a joke, Aunt Dusya,” Victor joked.

It’s as if you won’t die of hunger here, and you, Dusya, are talking about a foreign car,” one of the women laughed with a thin laugh.

Makhnin, feeling the shabby walls of the hostel with his eyes, remarked:

Yes, not much, Vitek, you live. Are there one or two rooms?

Victor, trying to hide his irritation, replied:

One. There is, however, a kitchenette.

Makhnin laughed.

Why am I talking about rooms? It is clear that there is only one. A dorm is, well, a dorm. I wandered around them.

Victor began to bubble inside again. For some reason, he was irritated by Makhni's self-confidence and aplomb.

Why? Sometimes there are two,” he said.

Makhnin did not seem to notice his mood.

OK. I flew. What room? I'll drop by if necessary.

I didn’t want to invite you to visit, but still shouted after me:

930. Ninth floor...

The foreign car, flashing its silver sides, drove away.

He stood smoking on the porch, leaning on the railing. This cunning man has not been seen for a long time, about seven years. They said that Makhnya appeared in the city a couple of times. He caroused and wasted money. This happened to him sometimes - he liked to show off people's eyes. Makhnin did not work at the mine for long. He quit immediately after Kolya Sukhanov was blown up in their brigade. The miner from Makhni did not work out. And he headed north, of course, not because of the fog or the smell of the taiga. Loves money, you can't say anything. Yes, now is their time, lovers of big money. But apparently things are not going well in the North, since he returned.

He finished his cigarette and crushed the bull with his foot. I forgot what I wanted to save. He sometimes put the bulls in a matchbox for a rainy day. I wanted to quit smoking, but how can you quit with such a life? How many times have I seen men, glancing around, quietly picking up cigarette butts at bus stops or right on the street. It’s a shame, but where can you go: you want to smoke, but you have nothing to buy it with.

An elderly, dejected man wandering near the trash cans caught my attention. There is a kind of gray hopelessness on his face, which has not been shaved for a long time. He found something, stuffed it into a plastic bag, and went on searching, casting a heavy, unseeing glance at Victor. “We made it. People began to scour the garbage dumps. When was this?!” I’ve collected bottles of drunkards before to recover from a hangover - orderlies, as they were called - that’s one thing. But now they were rummaging in search of food normal people, hard workers. Life turned its back on them. They were unable to adapt to the market and resist the onslaught of capitalism. They turned out to be weak.

Vi-cha-ya, I’ll come to Santa Barbara today! - the neighbor sang.

Come, Aunt Dusya.

Things at the mine continued to go neither shaky nor slow. Of course, no one tried to carry out the plan as before - it’s a bloody nose, but give me a plan! The miners of black gold seem to have resigned themselves to their fate; their coal is poor and no one needs it. There was work - they worked, no - they lay down, poisoned gruel. The pool was declared unpromising and subject to closure. In a neighboring town, two mines had already been closed, and they relied on open-pit mining. The management made promises, but there was no concrete action. Again there was a mess with the supply of materials, an incomprehensible fuss with resellers, but there was still no money. Ratansky was already openly driving his golden-haired diva with long legs in a Mercedes, but no one paid attention to this. And luxurious cottages on the shore of the lake grew like mushrooms after the rain.

Mining leader Rodyuk organized a branch of the independent trade union of miners (IPM) at the mine, tried to do something, called on miners to defend their rights, to file lawsuits in the courts for non-payment of wages, which infuriated the city and “mining barons.” And a worker at the mining site, Vasya Barmin, once pasted a homemade poster on the door of the mine administration, on which he drew fat gentlemen, and above them an angry miner with a jackhammer, and wrote the inscription in large letters: “Russia is us!”

Ratansky, having arrived at the mine in the morning in his shiny Mercedes, became incredibly furious at this poster. He tore down the poster, tore it to shreds and gave the task to his six to find out whose work it was.

With the help of the police, they tried to expel the strikers who went on hunger strike from the red corner, but nothing came of it - the miners stood up as a wall for them, and the police had to retreat. Victor often went to the red corner to visit his friend Cheskidov. During the hunger strike, he lost weight and became haggard, but did not lose heart. “Nothing, we will achieve our goal! - he said in a quiet voice, smiling sadly. - We are rural guys, we are cunning guys. We will achieve our goal!” But something incomprehensible was happening - they promised to give wages to the starving people, but they never did. Many miners are accustomed to starving people - well, they just lie there and lie there.

Makhnin appeared again. He arrived not at the hostel, but at the mine, and turned up to the piledriver itself.

Having arrived on the surface, Streltsov immediately recognized his “German girl”. He wanted to pass by, but Makhnin signaled that he had strength with a melodious intermittent signal.

Wash yourself, I'll come! - Makhnin threw out.

Makhnya, as promised, was waiting for him at the entrance.

Let's go to the pub! – Makhnya suggested. – I’ll treat you, don’t be afraid.

To the pub, then to the pub. There were no objections. However, there are no restaurants or canteens left in the city. Instead, numerous stalls, pubs, and bars appeared.

The Gornyak restaurant did not operate in the city. There were lonely peeling walls with broken windows and torn doors, where the boys were constantly burning something. Miners flashed through the black openings with panels on the wall. Makhnin pointed his finger in the direction of Gornyak: “I made a horn there!” The Gornyak restaurant was once the pride of the city. Two-story, decorated with marble and mahogany; There is a sgraffito on the entire wall on the theme of miners' labor. At the beginning of Perestroika, it was privatized, as they said, by some Caucasian through a figurehead - a Russian woman. The result is deplorable: there is no mysterious Caucasian, and there is no famous “Miner”. Everything was taken away: marble, wood, and luxurious chandeliers - only the miners remained on the wall with their mines.

...We sat down in one of the many eateries. The tall and well-fed girl behind the bar looked up at those who entered; The thick cheeks broke into an obsequious smile.

Shall we pull Napoleon? Or Peter the Great? – Makhnin laughed. – The choice is colossal. Like the best houses in London. Or maybe a cup of Brazilian coffee? – Makhnin, as always, is confident in himself, his small eyes glance slyly from under his heavy eyebrows.

The eyes are dazzled by bottles of different types and names. “There’s a lot of vodka, but there’s no money,” Victor thought sadly, looking at the menu and the counter. And, looking at the bustling Makhnin, he thought again: “What does he want from me? We need something."

Makhnin did not have to wait long. Having drunk “Napoleon”, having become limp and flushed, he asked directly, bluntly:

Sagittarius, do you want to earn money?

Victor thought for a second. He said, feeling the drilling gaze of Makhni’s small eyes on himself:

Hmm... Who doesn't want to? Want.

There is a possibility.

They drank one more, but Makhnin did not open up. Victor, a little drunk, asked:

Where? How?

Yes, nonsense! A trifle. We need to go to the Kurgan region. To the countryside, so to speak.

Questioner. Hmm,” Makhnya narrowed his eyes slyly. - It’s a small matter. You know her well. We'll drive you to your homeland. You will be my navigator. Is it good?

Makhnin didn’t really explain anything. But he promised that if Streltsov went with him and helped carry out one operation, then he, Makhnin, would not remain in debt and Sagittarius would make good money from this. Pays money in cash. And if he, Streltsov, agrees, then he, Makhnin, is ready to throw in an advance payment.

Makhnya generously paid for the coffee and cognac, and when leaving the eatery, he slapped a note in front of the plump barmaid, winked at her and patted her fat side in a businesslike manner. The barmaid was ready to lose herself in love with Makhna.

On the way home, he told Streltsov that he had not lived with his rat wife for a long time, he was renting a “kopeck piece” (two-room apartment) in the city, there were no problems with women, rent any one and take it to the “hut”. Now he has one young girl living with him, but he doesn’t spoil her and doesn’t bring her into the “society”. “I have it, Vitek, for housekeeping and for bed,” said Makhnin, belching carnivorously. When asked if he was afraid to drive while drunk, Makhnya, with a grimace, replied: “Yes, he’s a filthy cop, he’ll sell everything for a steward and forget that he’s a cop!”

In front of the hostel, Makhnin handed Victor several five-hundred-ruble crisp notes. Victor didn't have the strength to refuse.

Take it! Don't refuse. You don't have any money. I know - you suck your paw. Say hello to your Ninka from entrepreneur Makhni.

Nina started to attack her husband, but when she saw the money in his hands, she froze in mid-sentence and squeezed out in amazement:

Vitya, they gave you your salary, or what?

They didn’t give much,” Victor did not dare to disappoint his wife.

Oh how good! How amazing! Finally! – Nina jumped for joy and kissed Victor on the cheek.

They didn’t give it completely, just to maintain the pants! – Victor tried to joke, sitting down to dinner.

The neighbor, Aunt Dusya, came again, and they all, Nina and the children, sat down on the sofa and stared at the TV to watch the endlessly sugary “Santa Barbara.” And Victor went to smoke Camel, which Makhnya treated him to. He carefully tore the golden ribbon, took out a smelly cigarette, sniffed it, crushed it with his finger, and lit it. He loved to stand on the small balcony in the evenings, smoke, and look at the city spread out below. From below came street noise, screams and squeals of children; the temperamental speech of either the Brazilian or Argentine characters of the film penetrated from the room onto the balcony; he never figured out whose film it was. He didn't like this tramp.

The truck, covered with an awning, quickly rushed towards the neighboring area. The truck is Russian, an ordinary “lawn” truck. Makhnya is driving. Both of his hands rest freely on the steering wheel. The truck, as Makhnin explained, belonged to his friend Lekha Krucheny, who gave him a power of attorney for use so that the traffic cops would not get attached.

Makhnin picked up Streltsov early, almost at night. After dark we arrived along a bad, rutted road past old waste heaps to the Siberian Highway. The road is excellent, asphalt... Kilometers of the Siberian Highway are wrapped around the wheels, the truck is flying to the East, towards the sun that has not yet risen from the horizon.

Wife Nina did not object to the trip, especially since Makhnin promised money. “Okay, go ahead, even though he’s disgusting, your Makhnya.” Victor took a day off from the mine.

We stopped at a fork. To the left is a bundle to Streltsov’s native village, Kosulino.

Come on, Gena, let's find out everything. Where are we going? For what? – Victor fixed his gaze on Makhnya. - Maybe it’s not worth visiting our people? Huh?

Sagittarius, what are you doing? – Makhnin smiled wryly. - You and I are going for meat. I told you so. Let's buy a truckload of meat, push it - and half a lemon will be in your pocket.

You can't buy meat now. It's too early. We need to go closer to winter, when the injections start.

Winter is a long way off. We need it now. That's the trick. And then, when the season starts, it will be too late. Everything is already covered there. We know.

They won't sell it now...

They will sell! – Makhnin grinned. - You will persuade your fellow countrymen and relatives. The villagers are kind and sympathetic people. They will find meat. You'll see your mother eventually.

At the words about his mother and relatives, Victor felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach: “How are they doing?”

Sister Vera wrote that the former collective farm had not paid money for a long time and that life between her and her mother was not very good.

Think, Sagittarius, think! – Makhnin laughed, slapping his hands on the steering wheel.

Of course, I really wanted to go to my native village, but something held the guy back and, after thinking, Victor firmly said:

No, Makhnin, we won’t go to our relatives.

As you know! – Makhnya responded cheerfully, turning onto the highway and pressing the gas. - Let's move on. Deep into the continent!

“I have no gift, no money, why go,” Victor said guiltily.

Makhnin turned south from the highway, towards Kazakhstan. The places here are quieter, the villages are sparse. Taking a drag from an expensive cigarette and flicking the ashes out the window, Makhnin reasoned:

We, Sagittarius, will get meat for free. Your village is not suitable for our purposes. You are right. We requisition meat from the rich...

Who are the rich in the village? Now everyone is poor.

Exactly. Poverty. The fly is rolling. Okay, show me the way to a quieter village.

“What requisition?” - Victor thought. Finally, he “got it” and understood why they were coming: “They’re not coming to buy meat, but simply to steal!”

Seeing a herd grazing to the side, Makhnya pointed his finger:

And here is the meat!

The shepherd on horseback watched their car for a long time. He has two big dogs with him. The place is open, the herd is large, and there are also two healthy dogs.

He stepped on the gas, then turned off the well-worn road and got out onto a country road. We drove through a birch forest and a thick aspen forest, past a lake and onto a hill. Makhnin looked around the area and saw several grazing animals in the bushes.

The money is grazing. Dollars!

Let's have a snack! – Makhnin drank and poured it for Victor. - Why are you drifting? The market, my dear, the market. The strongest survives. Punch. And everything will be okay.

Victor drank. Everything became clear about Makhni. He, Streltsov, was dragged into his affairs by this cunning fellow like a new guy.

Why are you snotty, Sagittarius? Money doesn't smell. You know, no one kills cattle now.

You wanted to buy it.

I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. Finish your glass and let's get to work. “He rummaged in his bag and threw it over his shoulder. - Went!

The herd is small, scattered among the bushes. The village is off to the side, with several courtyards hidden by greenery.

The shepherd, a middle-aged, frail man, was dozing under a spreading birch tree, his cap pulled down over his eyes. Seeing them approaching, he perked up:

Oh, motherfucker, where from, guys?

Yes, we are tourists! – Makhnya joked. “The buses don’t run, and we still have to stomp and stomp.”

To relatives?

To them.

To our Kopytovka?

We need to go there! – the man pointed his finger at the forest. - There's a road there. Maybe you can catch a ride. Yes, hardly... Nowadays they rarely go...

During the conversation, Makhnin took out a white bottle.

Will you?

At the sight of the bottle, the man’s dull eyes sparkled with joy and his wrinkled face perked up.

Well, guys, you made me happy!

And Makhnin was already taking out a tin can of herring from a large bag and dashingly ripping open the lid with a crooked fin.

The man drank a glass of vodka in one fell swoop, looked into the glass for a long time, and snorted with a piece of bread. After several libations, he was “ready” and fell on his side, burying his face in the grass. Makhnin did not drink vodka, but quietly poured it on the ground.

Weakling! – Makhnin grinned with a crooked smile. He shook the man for a long time, checking the degree of his intoxication, called him Grisha, but he did not respond. Then he straightened his cap and covered the peasant with a canvas jacket. He looked at Victor: - Well, let's go!

The wandering cows were slowly driven into the forest. But the cattle wouldn’t let me get close. Makhnin tried to lure the cows with bread, but it didn’t work.

Makhnya deftly twirled his finger and cursed. Yes, Streltsov is in deep trouble with this Makhney. It became clear now why this cunning one was interested in whether he stabbed the cattle. Makhnya himself slaughtered a lot of livestock in the North: deer and other animals, which is what he boasted about.

I had to run to the car. Returning, Makhnya unwrapped the sawn-off shotgun wrapped in a rag. He shook his sawn-off shotgun and grimaced:

Do you think Grisha will hear? He won't hear a damn thing. I poured something into his vodka. He won't wake up until the morning. - Makhnin broke the “trunk”. - Zhekanchik! So, Sagittarius, it’s like this: let’s slowly push it on me. And I’ll meet this little beast. Let's get out of those! Drive them to the bushes.

In a separate group, three animals were peacefully nibbling the grass: a spotted cow with a swollen udder and a couple of young tall bulls, almost bulls.

Well, what are you waiting for? Let's! – Makhnin rushed into the bushes.

Victor broke off his head and threw the bulls at the hidden Makhnya. The young bull froze in surprise: a man grew up right in front of him. The bull has a puzzled, questioning look; what he thought before his death remains a mystery.

The shot sounded soft, like the sound of a dry branch breaking. The swing hit the bull right in the forehead. The bull stood for a second, his legs gave way, he staggered and fell to his knees. After standing in this position, the bull roared deeply and collapsed to the ground. His eyes began to dim, and a trembling ran through his body. The bull twitched a couple of times and fell silent.

Makhnin emerged from behind the bushes. He poked a sawed-off shotgun into the stomach of a dead bull:

Ready!..

Victor approached cautiously with a vice in his hands. I examined the animal. Blood, pulsating, flowed out of the hole in the forehead, flooding the bull's muzzle and the white apples of the eyes. Victor felt sick.

Makhnin took a flat bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Streltsov; he drank straight from his throat and wiped his wet face with his hand.

And then everything was like in a bad dream: Victor drove another victim, Makhnin shot her in the forehead, and the bloody animal fell to the ground.

They killed three bulls and one heifer. It was a pity to kill the heifer: a naive, stupid animal. Nulliparous, not yet producing milk. The bulls were shot successfully. I had to tinker with the chick. I had to hit her in the stomach, after which she stopped twitching.

Finally we finished off one cow. Victor wanted not to touch the cow, but Makhnya attacked like a beast: “We were driving in vain, or what?!” Money is disappearing, motherfucker!..”

They ripped open their stomachs, pulled out their intestines, separated their entrails, and cut off their legs. There was no time to remove the skins. Armed with a sawn-off shotgun, Makhnya periodically ran to find out how the shepherd Grisha was doing. He was dead asleep under a gnarled old birch tree, not knowing anything. Makhnya was afraid of one thing: someone would suddenly come from the village and raise the alarm; then there could have been a real shooting. But no one showed up. The drunkard Grisha didn’t even have a dog nearby, which is what a shepherd was supposed to do. The job was done, no one saw anything. They ran away hard: everything was covered in blood and dirt.

They threw the meat into the back of the Lawn, drove away to a secluded place, and washed off the blood in the swamp. Makhnin ordered the clothes to be changed, and the car was clean.

We sat in the cabin until nightfall. Until the sun rolled over the horizon and the first timid stars appeared in the pale blue sky. Here she is, Venus, the Evening star. As always, she was the first to appear. It was disgusting in my soul, and Victor prayed to God that this whole nightmare would end quickly. He drank, without getting drunk, vodka, vintage wine, cognac, stored by Makhney. My head was dull, one thought drilled into my brain - to leave quickly.

Makhnya didn’t drink. He rinsed his mouth with some nasty stuff and chewed something. There were no conversations. Makhnin, however, assured that the job was done and not a single bitch would stop them from completing the operation, shaking in front of Viktor some kind of certificate with a seal, where it was printed in black and white that the meat was bought at the state farm, in today's time - at the joint-stock company, for cash.

We got home without incident. Makhnin did not take the same route, even though he had a certificate. You never know what kind of check there could be on the track. I drove diagonally, on a different road, in different places. We returned to the city in the morning from the southeast. We drove through the "six" - a correctional colony for "prisoners", past gloomy fences, towers and barbed barriers.

Sit down, my dears! – Makhnya grinned, looking around the “zone”. He was completely sober. Sober and Streltsov.

Makhnya sold the meat on the same day. And the next day he arrived at the mine as if nothing had happened, laughing and giggling. He waited for Streltsov, handed him the money - a brand new whole wad; he gave one third of the proceeds and paid fairly. Victor even respected him.

When he brought this money home, Nina was crazy with happiness. Hanging on her husband’s neck, she suffocated from the feelings and plans that overwhelmed her.

That's it, Vitek, let's pay off our debts! No, we'll buy a Japanese color TV. Japanese. Only in color and only in Japanese!

Victor tried to object:

There is one. Why else?

Vitya! – Nina attacked him. – It’s black and white, antediluvian. Are we worse than others? All colored people buy it.

God be with her, with Ninka. She knows better. She calculated: enough for both TV and children. Aunt Dusya supported his wife: “Vitya, buy colored ones. I will come to you to watch “Santa Barbara.”

We spent a whole week shopping to buy a TV. Nina was meticulous - we went to Chelyabinsk to a company store, she wanted the most fashionable and the best.

And here it is, a color TV from the Japanese Toshiba brand stands in the place of the black and white Tempa. Remote control, lie on the sofa, press buttons on the remote control, switch channels, and there are already thirteen of them. I had to hire an antenna specialist, and he built some kind of special one on the roof of the hostel - a parabolic one. The quality is excellent, the color rendition is amazing, every mark on the face is visible. You can’t say anything - the Japs know how to make TVs.

The Streltsovs gave their “Temp” to Aunt Dusya, but she often came to watch her favorite “Santa Barbara” in color. And sitting side by side on the sofa - Aunt Dusya, Nina and the girls - stared at the screen, loudly discussing the events of the film and admiring the beautiful life abroad.

Victor, of course, did not tell Nina about that terrible day; said that he helped Makhnin buy cows for meat, and that’s all. And Makhnin allegedly gave him the money for his help with the purchase. Nina responded to this by remarking: “You should leave your mine, Vitya. I'm tired of sitting without money. Maybe I should talk to Makhnin myself? Maybe he will take you to his company? You are so indecisive to me. You keep waiting for something, you keep hoping for someone..."

Makhnya, having met Victor in the city, blossomed with a crooked smile, spread his arms, drilling his gimlet eyes:

You passed the first test, Sagittarius. - And he throws out the bait: - Maybe we can organize another business? Are we driving to the countryside? Huh? How do you look?

Streltsov shook his head negatively - no, he won’t join the thieves’ brigade.

They started giving money at the mine...” he said evasively.

What kind of money is this? Wrappers. And the business I started is profitable. Promising. I have established delivery channels, just transport the meat. Where we buy, where we requisition. So, Sagittarius, don't refuse. You will become an entrepreneur, a businessman. Otherwise you walk like a remock...

Yura Cheskidov died. He spent two weeks in the red corner of the mine with the starving people and felt very bad. They called an ambulance. Streltsov was just on the surface when a stretcher was taken out of the mine administration building. Victor squeezed his way to the door, trying to look into the victim’s face. And he froze when he recognized Cheskidov in the thin, pale guy. The face was bloodless, the eyes were extinguished.

Hold on! – Viktor touched Cheskidov.

He smiled painfully, wanted to say something, but only slightly nodded his head. Ratansky and his retinue appeared on the porch. His face, as always, was inscrutable. Someone shouted:

Bring it on, you bastards!

Ratansky looked around for who was screaming, but refrained from commenting.

The trade boss waved his arms, advancing on the miners:

Disperse! Disperse! Why haven’t you seen the patient?!

The miners were sullenly silent. Victor approached the ambulance and helped push the stretcher into the car. The ambulance drove away with a howl. The miners began to disperse. Victor went upstairs and looked into the red corner. There were still starving people lying on the floor; the place where Cheskidov lay was empty.

Vasya Barmin, having met Streltsov, said:

What should I say to Barmin? He, Streltsov, is not a fighter and not a master. He's most likely an ordinary six. I couldn’t resist the temptation - I committed a crime for the sake of money. And then there is talk about some kind of struggle.

Fuck you!

Cheskidov underwent emergency surgery: something happened to his kidneys, some kind of inflammation, and bleeding began. At night, without regaining consciousness, he died.

The entire mine buried Cheskidov. Relatives from the village arrived by telegram and made speeches. And the NPG members came to the mine with posters and staged a picket. Victor drank heavily out of grief. It took me a long time to come to my senses. How stupid it all turned out! “It wasn’t a mine collapse, it wasn’t blown away by methane, but he died as a result of a hunger strike.

The starving people were paid in full, and the rest were paid twenty percent for the month of February. But they worked, went down into the mine every day, and mined “black gold.” The hunger strike was stopped. The management promised to pay the money on time. Only Tolya Buyanov, as always, spat, swore and shouted: “The goats are lying! Look, you've broken your lip! You'll be damned, and a little too much!..”

Life in the city became impossible. My neighbor was in the hospital, so you have to go there with your medicines, your own sheets and even spoons. And how many homeless people have multiplied, thieves, prostitutes, drug addicts of some kind!

And on TV it’s the same thing, even though it’s colored and Japanese: murder, sex and obscenity. Barmin is probably right when he says that we urgently need to make a new revolution in order to throw off all these thieves and millionaires who came from nowhere.

I feel sick at heart. Who is he, Viktor Streltsov? Yes, an ordinary thief and murderer. For the sake of these money, I killed five souls with Makhney. It's sickening to remember this. And he often, on the sly from Nina, took a sip from the bottle. Do cows have souls? Nina is sure there is.

Nina and the children visited her mother today and went to the garden with the girls. And Victor went to the funeral of his friend Cheskidov. Forty days have passed since his death. The miners from the brigade gathered, remembered the deceased, talked “for life”, about the affairs of the miners. The mine still didn’t pay any money; they got off with promises. Rodyuk from the NPG ran with calls to stop work and start a strike. Others suggested blocking the pipeline or, at worst, working, but not releasing the coal to anyone. There were a lot of conversations and proposals, but nothing came to fruition yet. Vasya Barmin became angry at the last trade union meeting, called everyone “cattle” and left, slamming the door.

Victor is neither for these nor for these. Victor is a simple hard worker and doesn’t want to get involved in noisy, scandalous conflicts. He's had enough of "episodes", he's seen enough. The whole country is shaking, “they” “up there” can’t do anything, but what will ordinary miners do here, at their mine? He was still tormented by the episode with Makhnya, but this began to be slowly forgotten, but no, no, yes, he would remember the “footage” of that terrible massacre: then he would see a steep-faced bull, with a muzzle covered in blood, which they killed first, then a heifer with a forelock, eyes she's so cute and trusting...

And Nina, no, no, and she will remind him of Makhna: “Go and ask for a job...” Sleeping Ninka has a serene face, a half-open, plump mouth, the girls are generally like angels...

On ORT there was a program “How to become a millionaire”, on NTV some show where half-naked girls squealed something not in Russian and twirled their hips, on “Orient Express” - “Easy Money”... Victor went through all the channels and chose which one It's either porn or an action movie. I started looking. Didn't touch it. Everywhere it’s the same thing – vulgarity, dirt, murder. I thought: “For Americans, killing these people is like pissing two fingers.”

I went to smoke on the balcony, turning down the volume. His miner's, long-suffering Kopeisk lies from the word "Mine", not from "kopek", as the ignorant believed. He is lying down, resting, tired during the day, glowing with rare lights. And below, deep underground, his brother miners are working, ripping open the belly of Mother Earth so that power plants can work, coal can burn in boiler houses and stoves...

Streltsov felt something sad. Today is a gloomy day, and even the wake has disturbed my soul.

My wife Nina is sleeping, my daughters are sleeping. Today they were exhausted at their mother-in-law's, went to bed early, and didn't have time to watch TV.

Victor turned off the sound and went to the kitchen. He took out the treasured bottle and drank it. I remembered the village, my relatives: “How are they there?” I went to check the mail on the landing between floors. Broken boxes hang haphazardly on a wall covered in hooligan inscriptions. His box is decent, closed with a padlock - Ninka made him nail it down properly and hang the padlock. There was a white letter in the holes. I had to go back for the key and open the box.

I opened the envelope with excitement. The letter was from home. He immediately recognized Verkin's handwriting. Verka, she worked as a milkmaid, wrote:

"Dear brother! You haven’t written for something for a long time and don’t come to us. How are you? There was no life at all in our village. Our collective farm collapsed. They haven't given us any money for three years now. Sometimes they give you stinky sausage or vodka, but mostly they give you vodka. The men all drank themselves to death, some died, some were killed...”

“Previously, there were one and a half thousand heads on the farm, now there are only 200 heads left. The cattle were slaughtered and sold for debts. The cattlemen plundered everything, stole the iron and slate, even took away the floors and window frames. Horror just like after the war. Everyone is crazy - theft and drunkenness are everywhere. And why attack us like this, brother?..

My mother is sick all the time, and my pension comes with a long delay. We haven't received any for two months now. What kind of pension is this? In the old way, she received 78 rubles, but at current prices it should be 780 thousand, as the women explained to me. But they give only 230. This is about 23 rubles in the old way. You need at least 5 cubic meters of firewood alone, which is 300 thousand, but where can you get these thousands?..

I didn’t want to write to you, I didn’t want to upset you. But a new misfortune came to my mother and me: our cow, nurse Krasavka, and her daughter, the beautiful Zvezdochka, were killed. The belladonna was old and milking, so my mother and I decided to raise a replacement for her. They called her Zvezdochka, she had a white spot on her forehead - an asterisk. They went out to graze together, mother and daughter... one did not lag behind the other. They were killed together. We found only horns and legs in the forest..."

Ooh! – Victor groaned like a wounded animal. He closed his eyes, tears welling up in his eyes, shook his head, clasping it in his arms.

He fell silent so as not to wake up the sleeping ones.

He looked long and blankly at the letter written on a piece of paper from his school notebook. The hops that had clouded my head were leaving. Two cow faces appeared before my eyes: old Beauty and young Zvezdochka.

I poured more. Drank. I sat shaking my head, as if driving away the bad things I had read about.

Well, he wasn’t the one who killed Beauty and Star. Not him! It was still disgusting, as if he had been caught doing something nasty. It’s good that he didn’t give in to Makhni’s persuasion and didn’t go to his native region, to his Kosulino. “What difference does it make: you did it or not? It could be you too. In the same way, brutally, you killed someone’s cattle!..” I wanted to howl. “Damn everything!..”

A teacher in a rural school told them, boys and girls, that the word “milkmaid” came to Russia from India and it means “nanny” and “nurse,” and for some reason this was remembered for the rest of their lives.

“Nanny,” “nurse,” the guy muttered, staggering around the kitchen. Went out for a smoke. Walking through the room onto the balcony, I caught out of the corner of my eye how someone was being killed, tormented, and blood was flowing again on the screen of the new TV.

He smoked greedily, trying to calm down. I remembered my mother: “You, son, were born under a lucky star. Be faithful to her and to the people." Victor looked for the star, where was it, his dear Venus, the Morning and Evening star? Have not found. The sky is restless, ragged clouds are rushing across it somewhere. Here the star appeared in the breaks in the clouds, emitting a silver-emerald light onto the earth. She knew everything. She knew everything.

Melancholy grabbed me by the throat and squeezed so hard that I couldn’t breathe. "What to do?! What to do?! - beat in the brain. - Step into the abyss? Jump? Dissolve into the night?..” The thought burned like a razor slash. It became scary. No, that's not the case. He has a wife, small children...

Victor raised his eyes to the sky. Here it is, his wise star, shining with a tremulous blue light in the breaks of clouds rushing to God knows where, now disappearing, now appearing again.

Help, Morning and Evening Star. Help, Shepherd's Star! - he begged. - Give me some advice!

The star was silent.

Mmmm... - Streltsov groaned again, gritting his teeth. - He’s a scoundrel, what a scoundrel! He coveted this filthy money, damn it!.. He staggered and grabbed the railing.

He stood silently under the black mouth of the night. I listened closely. It was quiet. Returned to the room. Nina and the children slept as if nothing had happened, snoring happily. The TV was humming quietly. Another smut was going on, and the young beauty, hanging on the well-fed and fat gentleman, tenderly cooed: “Here, dear, I gave you oral pleasure...”

This phrase infuriated Victor. “Oral pleasure!? Yes, you bitches, put the whole of Russia in your mouth!..” He jumped up to the TV box, tore the plug out of the network, grabbed the TV in his arms and, without remembering himself, dragged it to the balcony.

Having placed the TV on the railing, for some reason he again looked at the sky and decisively pushed the box down. He flew down, tumbling in the inky night.

The TV hit the ground with a terrible roar and shattered into small pieces.

And it seemed to Streltsov that a hundred devils were howling in their death throes; It was as if dozens, hundreds of little devils had jumped out of the resulting rubbish and galloped in horror and squealing in different directions. Or maybe that's how it was?

And Venus again appeared from the clouds, flickering with its distant mysterious light...