Disgrace! - the doctor behind my back has loudly told.
It became suddenly improbably close. Me have squeezed so that I could not sigh. Crowd krutanulo whirlpool. Someone has
moaned, someone has fallen under feet.
Yes run, idiots! - I have very much cried.
There was no place to run. People climbed against each other. Clatter accrued. I by miracle have caught eaves, tightened,
has rolled over in a window of the second floor. Groan has floated between roofs. The apartment burnt. Through the broken
frame there was a smoke.
That below seemed to me chaos and a panic, from here that at all did not look. Cried and rushed about somewhere behind.
And before the discharged crowd ten three men vigorously piled in a heap cases, wheels, iron tripods. The barricade grew.
Women, having left children, helped. The doctor who has thrown off a jacket, disposed, standing on a flank - an axe
posverkival at it in a hand.
And many too had axes, kolja. The crowd has bristled up. Forward horsemen, having hopped to a barricade, were restive.
Stones have departed to them, sticks.
The cobble-stone has touched the leader with the black sultan. The helmet from it has fallen down.
The second cobble-stone has struck to it in the person, blood has scattered. The leader has waved iron hands and has
spread from a saddle. Horses neighed, rearing.
I here had nothing to do. Coughing from a smoke, I have got over on an opposite side of a room and have jumped off
downwards from a window.
The lane was empty. Has tilted, having got to a hole, a cart with the fallen off wheel. In shafts there was a low shaggy horse.
At kleshnevatyh feet her face the person entangled by straw downwards rolled.
So, it was Performance. Performance which has flooded all city.
Possibly, in the House have removed ekranirovku and have put equipment on a total power. It was not necessary to ask,
what for it was required: in such chaos was to nobody of business to phantoms. Professor Nejshtadt rescued itself - having
opened a casket of Pandory. Thousand people have woken up today in the early Middle Ages and, without arguing, have
joined in wild, mad game. To me it became terrible. In the representations going within the precincts of the House, people
perished not, and their holographic images - to it permissiveness spoke, but in a city game went seriously - one of its victims
lies near to me - the horse was mown on a corpse and quietly neighed.