I consider the review optional

Mendeleev, as is commonly believed, saw a periodic table in a dream. Kekule saw the benzene formula there.

Many ideas - for programs, for books - come from the most unexpected sources. Sometimes, from rethinking a phrase that you hear a hundred times a day.

The phrase “Yes, at least complain to God!” Can be heard at almost any moment of the working day from one of the employees closest to the author of the housing department. Actually, the sketch below was born.

Have a nice Friday!

“I will complain to your superiors!” - promised engineer Agafonov not a very confident voice. A Soviet-issued still aunt on the other side of the counter dispatcher ZhEU nodded indifferently.

“Yes, even to the Lord God,” she explained in words, and waved her hand maliciously, sending the visitor out.

Agafonov walked home in a boiling mood, which at the end of the road managed to cool down and precipitate. For some reason, one thing was spinning in my head: I lived to old age to listen to this! And I also thought: the biography of late has become more and more like an epitaph: born, studied, married, aged, reposed. It seems that life was interesting, why didn’t you remember anything pleasant at that moment?

“Here we will write to God,” Agafonov grinned atheistically, and picked up a blank sheet of paper from the shelf. Fingers quickly remembered the grip, the words flowed from under the ball of the fountain pen confidently and promptly. "I consider it my duty to inform you that ..." - and then the whole point of the claim: we pay money, but no one is going to clean up the entrance, and all that. All this wounded and resentful soul poured a lot, barely fit on a sheet. Signature. Date. Where to send it? What to write on an envelope? Which mailbox should I drop in?

“If it exists, and so will read it,” Agafonov grinned again, and discovered that righteous anger wasted itself. As it was not. And what, unexpectedly thought, is not a bad therapy. It’s clear that complaints will not help here, it’s childish. And you have to go to the management of the housing department with papers and take it by the gills, or what it is breathing now. Act yourself.

The doorbell rang, law enforcement knocked. Engineer Agafonov did not foresee a conflict with the authorities - a pensioner, yes, a freethinker - there was a difficult temper - not to be taken away, but he did not quarrel with the authorities. In detail, in any case.

“I'm coming,” answered Agafonov gruffly. He put on slippers and spanked to the entrance.

- Have you filed a complaint? Inquired impassively, trumping the servant of the law on the other side of the door. Which law, and which law, engineer Agafonov did not consider: at first he collapsed, and his vision is not in the best shape. He managed to note one thing: he did not introduce himself, and did not name him. Mess!

“He did it,” Agafonov admitted the obvious, and belatedly thought: wait, what kind of complaint are we talking about?

“About this one,” the servant of the law obtained the same sheet from his briefcase. Complaint addressed to the Lord of God. - yours?

“Mine,” and engineer Agafonov’s heart sank at the heels for a couple of seconds. And when it surfaced, Agafonov discovered that he was handed a receipt. On it, a dumbfounded gaze was dismantled only by the illegible verdict "The complaint was examined."

- Um, excuse me, but how is it that the complaint has already been examined?

“Of course,” the servant of the law said politely. - Adopted and reviewed in accordance with all the rules.

- And-and-excuse me, and what has been done in response ?!

“Nothing,” they looked at Agafonov in surprise. - There is no reason. Does it surprise you?

And again the noble anger boiled up for an offended pensioner.

“It disturbs me,” engineer Agafonov denied all the obvious absurdity of the conversation. “I demand that you take action!”

“You have to file a complaint with a higher authority,” the law servant sighed. - Although I would not advise.

“And I will,” Agafonov promised, heating up to a white heat. - Whose name should I write in?

- Why write? - the servant of the law was surprised. - We are simple, without gimp. You’ll tell everything yourself. I beg! - and stepped back, beckoning the pensioner to him.

And engineer Agafonov, not understanding why, stepped onto the landing, automatically shut the door behind him. Belatedly realized that he was dressed in the most shabby, and that he had not taken the key.

* * *

- Where am I? - Agafonov managed to reprimand, not immediately realizing that they were not standing on the landing at all.

“At the Institution,” the attendant readily explained. - The order of this. You want the complaint to go ahead - the director will personally deal with this issue.

Then Agafonov gained enough presence of mind to stop. It only now dawned on whose name he wrote the complaint. And that this one has, it turns out, a higher authority.

Around, at first glance, the most common institution. Nothing supernatural. The bastion of bureaucracy. Corridors, corridors, doors. Employees and employees scurry around, all in suits, and it smells quite clerical. No one was surprised at him, Agafonov, mind. Agafonov examined himself and was dumbfounded: he was dressed in a strict suit, shod in impeccable shoes.

“I took the liberty,” the attendant explained. - With the uniform we have strictly. Now I will take you to the director, and you personally will express all the complaints.

They went down the hall. From time to time, the corridor was intersected by another, perpendicular - and everywhere doors, doors. Green breech carpet under your feet, shades over your head. Engineer Agafonov obediently sailed after the servant of the law, and gradually his mind began to wake up.

- Listen, because I wrote a complaint to the Lord God!

“That's right,” the attendant confirmed.

“And ... he looked at her ?!”

“You see,” the servant of the law stopped, and smiled amiably. Something strange appeared in his guise to Agafonov. But everything seems to be as it should be - a man’s head is covered with a cap on top, arms and legs, boots and a suit. Briefcase in the hand. High gloss polished boots. Agafonov caught on: realized that they were talking to him, actually.

“You see,” the attendant repeated even friendlier. - We have our own rules. First, the complaint is sent for consideration to the curator of the universe, then to the inspector, then to the chief inspector, then to the deputy director, and only then ...

- And who are you?

“I am the curator,” the engineer Agafonov smiled encouragingly. “You can take it by my name.” In order to save you from waiting, I have the authority to personally take you to the director.

Everything mixed up in Agafonov’s head, and stubbornly did not want to get in order.

- That is ... I, you see ... in general ... Lord! - Agafonov practically fluttered, but managed to come to his senses - he was ashamed. To such an extent that he partially regained his composure.

“Don’t worry,” Agufonova assured the curator. “The director will accept you without delay, and decide the matter in your favor.”

- Why?

- You see, he once created your world first.

- Sorry? - engineer Agafonov froze at the next intersection of corridors. - Mine ?! I.e…

“Well, yes,” the Curator was surprised. - You do not know? The very first universe was yours. I am honored to keep order in it.

- And what do you call order ?! - Engineer Agafonov again experienced acute civil resentment. - What is going on there is an order ?!

- The sun is working properly, I don’t suppose global disasters, the aliens will not notice you for another three hundred years. Well, yes, everything is in order. And what doesn’t suit you?

Agafonov for a long time, energetically and ardently enumerated that he personally, a pensioner who honestly gave fifty years to serving his country, was not happy. It did not suit almost everything.

- Excuse me, what do I have to do with it? - the curator was surprised, while not losing friendliness.

- What does it have to do with ?! You follow the order?

- That's right. If you are not in the know, people are given free will. Not everyone, by the way, is granted this. And here they give you. So why not using it?

“But what's the point ...” and Agafonov bit his tongue. Employees walked around, in both directions, and no one paid attention to the eloquence of engineer Agafonov. Nodded politely, smiled. - But wait! It’s like ... is it you, you are considering all the complaints addressed to the Lord God ?!

“We call him Director.” You can say “Creator,” the Curator said. - That's more correct. Do not forget that this is not a name, but a position.

- Yes please! And what, you consider all such complaints ?!

- Of course.

- There are probably thousands of them!

- Well, what are you. On one earth day, an average of five to six quadrillion. You don’t think that people are the only intelligent species in your Universe?

- And you manage to read all this ?! - astonished engineer Agafonov.

- Well yes. This is my responsibility. ”The curator bowed his head.

“But when do you have time?”

- Ah, nothing. You see, time is going very different here.

Agafonov tried to imagine five quadrillion complaints - he did not immediately remember how many zeros were in this number. Imagination refused to imagine such a thing.

“And you never fulfill the requirements?”

- Almost never.

“And what kind of curator are you after that ?!”

“You see,” the Curator clearly has angelic patience. - According to our rules, if I satisfy someone’s complaint, I must notify all affected persons, and in the same way satisfy their complaints. Example: if someone wants to harm his neighbor, then I will have to fulfill the counter-requirement, you know? These are the rules. When people find out, they usually do not insist on fulfilling their requirements. In your case, there was no reason to intervene.

- Lord! Where am I?! - Engineer Agafonov grabbed his head. His companion laid the lower pair of hands behind his back, and spread his upper pair. Agafonov did not have time to be surprised at such a transformation - everyone around him ceased to look like people. There were angels in appearance, as they are usually painted, and devils, and who only was not! Engineer Agafonov managed to notice the twisted horns on the head of the curator and the tail with an elegant tassel at the end, falling out from under his camisole. The face has remained mostly human, and thanks for that.

“The director does not like being remembered in vain,” the curator sighed. “He also does not like rhetorical questions.” We have almost come. What's wrong with you?

Agafonov looked around, not bothering to put his sagging jaw back in place. When his eyes fell on the briefcase in the curator's right lower hand, something absurd caught his eye. Agafonov did not immediately understand that the briefcase is rectangular - in the form of a parallelepiped, that is - but at each vertex not three corners converge, but four. And every corner is straight. Agafonov looked up, and his head was spinning: the eerie-looking employees walked not only back and forth and left and right, but also up and down. At the same time, they walked vertically as naturally as horizontally.

- It's okay, - the curator caught him by the elbow, did not let him fall. “There are four spatial dimensions in this building.” It happens more. And where else to store so many universes? You see me in an authentic, so to speak, appearance. Yes, here's the thing: as soon as you remember the Director in vain a second time, how do you begin to perceive everything in its original form. Very comfortable, right? But I would not recommend mentioning it in vain for the third time. He will have to take you out of turn.

Engineer Agafonov grabbed his heart, and imagined that he did it right away with two right hands. And something strongly pressed on the head - and it turned out to be scary to check what was there on the head. I did not dare.

“It's okay,” the Curator repeated. “Two floors up, one turn to the right, and we are already in ...”

“No,” Agafonov resolutely stepped back. “You know, I changed my mind.” No need for an appointment.

- But why?! - the Curator was amazed. - The Director is pleased to receive visitors from the First Universe. You are on a special account. I guarantee that your business will be decided in a matter of minutes!

“No, you know,” Agafonov tried not to look at either the briefcase, the curator, or anything. “I can handle it myself.” There is no need to distract the Director with such trifles.

“Then sign here,” the curator got a complaint from his briefcase. - Right here. Yes, under the date. In any form. For example, “I consider the consideration of my complaint optional,” and again the signature. Right. Thanks. Leave it as a souvenir, - the Curator held out a fountain pen. - It was exceptionally nice to talk with you!

* * *

Engineer Agafonov discovered that he was standing in his hallway, the door was closed in front of him, the same complaint in his left hand, and the same fountain pen in his right hand. Beautiful, dog, massive, stylish. Of metal, go. The cap is square in cross section. Probably worth a lot of money!

Agafonov walked into the office, where he collapsed into a chair. I looked at the complaint for a long time, endorsed by an illegible signature, clearly ending in "-ail". He looked at the fountain pen, and again it seemed that the four right angles converged at the tops of the cap. He shook his head, driving away the obsession.

Then he went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Horns, tail not observed. On the head - nothing extraneous. Two arms, two legs. It seems like an ordinary person. Agafonov returned to his office, and looked at the paper for a long time with a complaint.

“I'll show you the state now ...” he bit his tongue. It seemed that the signature of the Curator on paper was lit. - Now I will arrange for you!

Agafonov resolutely picked up the telephone. By evening, new light bulbs had been washed up, screwed in, and the intercom began to work.

And by the evening the complaint had disappeared somewhere. The fountain pen remained, however, but the complaint has disappeared. Although the engineer Agafonov himself would not have ventured to put her in the bin. And who would believe it, tell him the truth?