Голос отца и Смотрителя нашего Убеж

Голос отца и Смотрителя нашего Убежища отвлекли меня от разглядывания лица Аматы. На десятилетие мне, как и всем жителям Убежища, полагался персональный «пип-бой-3000». Помню этот момент, когда Смотритель застегнул его на моей руке чуть пониже локтя, и улыбнулся. Наверное, тогда это была его первая и последняя улыбка, адресованная мне. Смотритель меня не любил. Раньше я не понимал почему, да и даже не замечал этого. Когда я понял это, мне был где-то пятнадцать-шестнадцать лет. Мы рисовали на уроке у мистера Бротча. К слову, я хорошо рисовал. В моем столе была спрятана папка, о которой не догадывался отец. Там была и детская мазня с «палка-палка-огуречик» и уже более взрослые работы. Были и портреты, и обнаженная натура. Но на уроке у мистера Бротча я один из всего класса нарисовал зеленый луг и голубое небо с желтым кругляшком сверху. Амата сидела тогда на соседней парте и заинтересовалась, что я рисую. Постепенно за ней подтянулся весь класс. Растерянный мистер Бротч пытался мне что-то объяснить, но я не слушал его, радостный от внимания, которое наконец-то уделила мне Амата. А после уроков меня вызвали к Смотрителю.

Смотритель. Он читал мне проповедь о том, что за пределами убежища есть только пустота и темнота, и что я не должен рисовать агитирующие и провоцирующие картинки ради безопасности и блага всех живущих в нашей подземной бетонной коробке. А я смотрел на его бесстрастное лицо и думал о том, что я никогда не слышал, чтобы кто-нибудь называл его по имени. Все называли его Смотрителем. Исключением была лишь Амата. Она называла его папой. В юности я мечтал о том, что когда-нибудь я тоже назову его папой. К сожалению (а может и к счастью) судьба мне такого шанса не предоставила.

Я не был лузером среди своих сверстников. Скорее я был одиночкой. Частые драки и нежелание водиться ни с Бучем и его фраерками, ни с большинством остальных, постепенно сделало меня изгоем. Ни в плохом, ни в хорошем смысле. Так, в нейтральном. Со мной общались, звали «потусить», часто пытались наладить со мной контакт, особенно девушки. И особенно в шестнадцать-семнадцать лет. Но я не умел дружить, да и, наверное, до сих пор не умею. И, да, я часто дрался. Несмотря на свою «тонкую кость», как выражался отец (чего я терпеть не мог!), у меня были довольно приличные мускулы, благодаря постоянным упорным тренировкам. «Туннельные змеи» Буча предпочитали лишний раз не трогать меня, чем ходить потом к моему отцу лататься и смущенно рассказывать с какой очередной лестницы они неловко упали.
Не знаю именно почему, но девушки выделяли среди нашей молодежи чаще всего лишь меня и Буча. Я не претендовал на роль первого парня в убежище, но мне было приятно. Правда, я это никому не показывал. У меня было много поклонниц, но толком не было девушки. Да, я многим нравился, с кем-то завязывались отношения. Тем не менее, я был, если можно так сказать, разочарован. Мне были доступны все девушки. Все, кроме одной.

Результаты (английский) 1:

The voice of the father and Caretaker of our Asylum diverted me away from the gaze of the person Amata. For the Decade to me, as all the inhabitants of the asylum, relied personal "PIP-boy 3000. Remember this moment when his buttoned up Caretaker on my arm just below the elbow, and smiled. Perhaps, then, it was his first and last smile to me. Keeper I disliked. I have never understood why, Yes and not even notice this. When I realized this, I was somewhere fifteen-sixteen years. We have drawn the lesson from Mr. Brotča. By the way, I'm good at drawing. At my table was hidden folder, which does not know the father. There was a baby and daub with "stick-stick-ogurechik" and for more adult work. There were portraits and nudes. But the lesson of Mister Brotča I'm one of the entire class painted green and blue sky with yellow kruglâškom top. Amata sat then at neighbouring deskmate and interested in what I'm drawing. Gradually it recovered for the whole class. Confused Mr. Brotč tried to explain something to me, but I haven't listened to it, joyful attention finally paid me Amata. And after school I was summoned to the Caretaker. Caretaker. He read me the preaching that outside the refuge there is only emptiness and the darkness, and that I should not draw agitating and provoking pictures for the sake of security and the benefit of all people living in our underground concrete box. And I looked at his poker face and thought that I had never heard of anyone called him by name. Everyone called him a Caretaker. The exception was only the Amata. She called him Daddy. In my youth, I dreamed that someday I too will call him Daddy. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), the fate of me such a chance is not provided. I was not luzerom among their peers. Rather I was a loner. Frequent fights and unwillingness to be neither with the Consortium and its fraerkami, nor with most others, gradually made me an outcast. Neither bad nor good sense. So, neutral. Chatted with me, called "was hip, often tried to establish contact with me, especially girls. And especially in the sixteen-seventeen years. But I couldn't make friends, Yes, and probably still don't know. And, Yes, I've often fought. Despite its thin bone ", as expressed by the father (which I couldn't stand!), I had a pretty decent muscles, through sustained hard training. "Tunnel snakes» bucha chose once again not to touch me, than going then to my father latat′sâ and sheepishly tell with any regular staircase they awkwardly fell. I don't know exactly why, but the girls were isolated among our young people more often than not only me and Bucha. I do not claim to the role of the first guy in the refuge, but I was pleased. The truth is, I didn't show anyone. I had a lot of female fans, but really was a girl. Yes, I have many liked, someone used the relationship. However, I was, if I may say so, disappointed. I have access to all the girls. All except one.

Результаты (английский) 2:

The voice of our father and Ranger Shelters distracted me from looking face Amata. In the decade I, like all residents of Vault relied personal "Pip-Boy 3000". I remember that moment when the caretaker fastened it on my arm just below the elbow, and smiled. Perhaps, then, it was his first and last smile, addressed to me. The superintendent did not like me. Previously, I did not understand why, and do not even notice it. When I realized this, I was somewhere about fifteen or sixteen years. We have drawn a lesson from Mr. Brotcha. By the way, I'm good at drawing. At my table was a hidden folder, which is not suspected father. There was also a children's scribble with "stick-stick-ogurechik" and has more adult work. There were portraits, and nudes. But the lesson from Mr. Brotcha I'm one of the whole class painted green meadow and blue sky with a yellow ball joint on top. Amata was sitting on a nearby desk and interested in what I paint. Gradually her pulled the whole class. Confused Mr. Brotch tried me explain something, but I did not listen to him, joyous of attention, which has finally given me Amata. And after school, I was called to the caretaker. The caretaker. He read me a sermon that outside the shelter have only emptiness and darkness, and that I should not draw agitating and provoking images for the safety and benefit of all who live in our underground concrete box. And I looked at his impassive face and thought that I had never heard of anyone called him by name. Everyone called him Ranger. The exception was only the Amata. She called him dad. As a teenager, I dreamed that someday I too will call his dad. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) my fate has not given the chance. I was not a loser among their peers. Rather, I was a loner. Frequent fights and reluctance to be driven either with Butch and his fraerkami nor most others, gradually made ​​me an outcast. Neither bad nor good sense. Thus, in the neutral. To communicate with me, called "hang out", often tried to establish contact with me, especially girls. And especially at sixteen or seventeen years old. But I did not know how to make friends, and probably still do not know how. And, yes, I often fought. Despite its "thin bone ', as the father (which I could not stand it!), I had a pretty decent muscles through constant persistent training. "Tunnel snake" Bucha chose once again not to touch me, than to go then to my father Lata and embarrassed to tell how the next stairs they fell ill at ease. I do not know exactly why, but the girl stand out among our youth often just me and Bucha. I do not claim to be the first guy in the shelter, but I was pleased. However, I did not show it to anyone. I had a lot of fans, but it really was not a girl. Yes, I've liked someone strikes up a relationship. Nevertheless, I was, so to say, disappointed. I had access to all the girls. All but one.