Ponedelnik nachinaetsya v subbotu (1965) - full transcript

"Monday Starts on Saturday"

from the novel
by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

"A Fairy Tale for Junior Academics"

I was going on vacation.

On the second day, by evening,

I was nearing my destination,
the city of Solovets.

Could you give us a lift to Solovets?

Alright, get in.

One of you has to go in the front,
the back is full of junk.

- Our guardian angel!
- Close the door properly.

Pull in your raincoat,
it's jammed in there.



It's ten kilometers to Solovets, right?

Yeah, maybe a bit more.

Although the road isn't great,
it's mostly for trucks.

The road's just fine. I was told
I couldn't get through at all,

but you could get down
this road even in autumn.

Here, maybe, but after
Korobets it's a dirt track.

Thank you.

The Clara Zetkin Plant.

- You must be from Leningrad.
- Yep.

- Doing some traveling.
- That's right. So you're locals?

- Born and bred.
- I'm from Murmansk.

To a guy from Leningrad, Solovets
and Murmansk must sound the same,

- it's just the North.
- No, not at all.

Will you be staying in Solovets?



Of course. Solovets is where I'm headed.

Do you have family or friends in town?

No, I'm just meeting
some friends there.

They're hiking along the coast,
we said we'd meet up in Solovets.

Hold on tight.

Lots of people wouldn't drive down
a road like this in their own car.

I would.

So this isn't your car, then.

- How would I have a car? It's a rental.
- I see.

What's the point in buying a car
just to drive around on asphalt?

The places with asphalt
aren't interesting,

and the interesting places
don't have any asphalt.

Yes, of course.

I think it's silly to treat your car
like some sacred object.

It is. But not everyone would agree.

What do you do for a living?

Me? I work at a research institute.

I'm a programmer.

Tremendous!

A programmer! That's exactly
what we're looking for.

Say, how about you leave your institute
and come to work for us?

- What do you have here?
- What do we have?

An Aldan-3.

A very versatile machine.
Does it run properly?

- Well, how do I put this...
- I see.

The thing is, it hasn't
been debugged yet.

If you stick around, you could debug it.

We can arrange the transfer in no time.

What's your line of work?

Like all science,
the happiness of mankind.

I see. Something to do with space?

Among other things.

I'm fine where I am now.

A large city and decent pay.

Now, now. Not everything's about money.

I was just joking.

His idea of a joke.

But you won't like it anywhere
better than here.

What makes you think so?

- I'm sure of it.
- I'm not.

We'll get back to it.

Will you stay in Solovets long?

Two days at most.

We'll talk more on the second day, then.

Personally, I think it's fate.

We were just out in the forest
and ran into a programmer.

I think it's your destiny.

You really need a programmer that badly?

You have no idea how badly
we need a programmer.

Okay, I'll have a word with my friends.
I know a few who aren't too happy.

We don't need just any programmer.

Programmers are in short supply,
they're spoiled nowadays.

We need one that's unspoiled.

Oh? That's not as easy.

We need a programmer
who's, A, unspoiled...

B, keen and willing,

and C, one who'd be willing
to live in a dormitory.

And D, for 120 rubles a month.

Do you also want wings, or maybe a halo?

There's Solovets.

It's nine o'clock. Where were you
planning to spend the night?

I'll sleep in the car.

How late are the stores open here?

The stores will be closed by now.

You can stay at the dorms.
I have a spare bed in my room.

We couldn't drive up to the dorms now.

Maybe we should transgress him?

Now, now. He's no sofa. And you're
no Cristóbal Junta, and neither am I.

Don't worry, I'll sleep in the car.
Wouldn't be the first time.

I suddenly felt a terrible longing
to sleep on some actual sheets.

I had spent the past four nights
in a sleeping bag.

Say...

The Lohuchil!

That's right! We'll take him
to the curving seashore.

I'll sleep in the car, I tell you.

You'll sleep in a house.

On some fairly clean sheets.

We have to thank you somehow, don't we?

We can't just slip you 50 kopecks.

Look, it's our Peace Prospect.

Take a right on the next side street.

Curving Seashore Street.

Stop. Here we are.

You stay here,
I'll go set everything up.

Really, that's not necessary.

I won't hear of it.
Volodya, keep an eye on him.

"NITWiT...

"The Log Hut on Chicken Legs.

"A historical monument of old Solovets."

"13 Curving Seashore Street...

"N. K. Gorynych."

"Cat not working. The Management."

What's CAT?
Committee for Advanced Technology?

Don't you worry about a thing.

Things get pretty interesting here,
but everything will be just fine.

Vasily, my friend, sorry to bother you.

You're all set, guardian angel.
You'll be staying here. Drive right in.

Where?

Here's the lady of the house.

Good health to you, Naina Kievna!

Welcome, welcome, sonny.

I take it this is the new programmer?

Welcome, dear guest, welcome indeed!

You see, Naina Kievna,

we have to put our new colleague up
for two nights.

- Allow me to introduce...
- No need. I can see for myself.

Privalov, Alexander Ivanovich.

1938. Male.

Russian. Leninist Komsomol member.

None, no, never joined,
never has, none...

But you, my treasure,

shall travel a distant road
and do business in a public place.

Cross my palm with gold,
my darling one...

You can call me Sasha.

- Where am I going to put him?
- In the storeroom, of course.

And who's going to take responsibility?

Naina Kievna, we talked about this!

And if he pinches something?

Keep it down, that's our new programmer!
A Komsomol member, a scientist!

I don't want to impose.

Don't worry,
everything will be just fine.

- No, I think I'll go.
- That's out of the question.

We'll sort it out. It's just that...

the woman wants a bribe,
and Roman and I don't have any cash.

- I'll pay!
- No, absolutely not.

There, he's coming. Everything's fine.

It's fine, let's go.

I feel bad. I mean,
she's not obligated to...

Yes she is.

And I want a receipt this instant.

"Received such-and-such from so-and-so,

"who has leased out the aforementioned

"to the undersigned.

"One tablecloth, inventory number 245."

Put all the floorboards in too,
why don't you.

"One dining table."

Are you putting the oven in too?

Rules are rules. "One sofa."

We're done with the formalities.

"Our little fingers are exhausted,
we've been writing and writing."

You, put on your night
clothes and go to bed.

What are you doing tomorrow?

- Waiting for my friends.
- Where will you be waiting?

Here, and by the post office.

So you probably won't be
leaving tomorrow.

Probably not. Most likely the day after.

In that case,
our love affair is yet to come.

I fear, dear guest, as you might
start sucking your teeth at night.

I'm not going to suck my teeth,
I'm going to bed.

Well, go to bed, then.
Pay me first, and then go to bed.

How much is it?

Let's say a ruble for the room.

50 kopecks for the bedsheets,
they're mine, not state property.

Two nights, that comes to three rubles.

If you kindly want to add something,
for the inconvenience,

well, that's up to you.

Kindly, let's say one ruble.
And we'll see how things go.

Here's a fiver.

Here's your change, dear guest.

One ruble.

- In coppers, you don't have to count.
- I'm not going to count.

"On seashore far a green oak towers,

"And to it with a gold chain bound,

"A learned cat whiles away the hours

"By walking slowly round and round.

"To right he walks, and sings a ditty,

"To left, he tells a fairy tale...

"What marvels there! A mermaid sitting

"High in a tree, a sprite, a trail..."

We stayed up late today.
Time to go to bed.

Let's go to bed, then.

You're not taking another dip today?

It's a bit chilly.

Time to hit the hay.

Suddenly I realized I wasn't
sleepy at all. I was hungry.

Piquant sauce. Half a glass of vinegar,

two onions, and pepper.

Served with very small beefsteaks.

Now, that's downright mean.

Not just steaks, small steaks.

God, I'm so hungry.

Eat, dear guest, Alexander Ivanovich.

Eat what God has given,
what he has sent with me.

Naina Kievna!

You shouldn't have gone
to so much trouble.

Eat up, dear guest, eat in good health.

Naina Kievna, I would have
starved to death without you.

- Had enough?
- That was magnificent.

Thank you so much.
You don't even know...

What's there to know? Had enough?
Then give me your plate.

- The plate, I said!
- By all means.

By all means, by all means.

That's all I get
for feeding you, by all means.

- I can pay.
- Pay!

What if it's something
as can't be paid for?

And you shouldn't have lied!

Excuse me, what do you mean, lie?

You said you wouldn't go
sucking your teeth.

I'll go strolling...

and I'll go rolling...

when I've eaten Ivanushka's tasty flesh.

Alright, then...

"In a kingdom long ago,
in a certain state I know,

"there lived a king called..."

Well, it doesn't really matter.

Let's say... Polyeuctus.

"And he had three princely sons.

"The first..."

The third was a fool,
but what about the first?

Alright.

"Once upon a time
there were a king and a queen.

"This king and this queen had one son...

"A fool, of course..."

This is getting desperate.
I do remember some things!

"Such victuals I'll savor: the steed
for dinner, the youth for supper..."

Now, what's that from?

Ivan, the fool, naturally, replies:

"The steed for dinner,
the youth for supper?

"You vile monster, you devour the
snow-white swan before she's caught!"

Then, of course, the red-hot arrow,
and off with all three heads.

Ivan takes out the three hearts
and brings them...

the cretin, home to Mother.

Some present!

Damn it, I'm going soft in the head.

The cat's suffering was indescribable.

The extent of his knowledge was vast.

He didn't know a single story or song
more than halfway through,

but there were Russian, Ukrainian,

Western Slavic, German, French,

I think even African songs,
fables, ballads,

fairy tales, jingles and romances.

His fading memory enraged him.

"I have heard, oh great and mighty king,

"that in the glorious city of Baghdad
there dwelt a tailor by the name of..."

Those names,
that's the worst thing for me.

Abu Ali something, Ibn whatsit.

Fine, say... Polyeuctus.

Polyeuctus Ibn...

Polyeuctovich!

Regardless, I don't remember
what happened to the tailor.

To heck with him.
Let's start a different one.

The only song he sang all the way
through was Chizhik-Pyzhik,

and the only story he told coherently

was The House That Jack Built
in Marshak's Russian translation,

and even that was abridged.

Work...

Work...

And work.

Nothing but work!

"And in the field, the fieldeow,

"The pleaow runs by itself,

"And the meow, and the meow...

"Following that plow, meow...

"Our Lord himself does walk..."

Or "stalk"?

- Hello?
- Who's this?

- What?
- Who's this?

Who did you want?

- Did I reach the Lohuchil?
- What?

I said, did I reach the Log Hut
on Chicken Legs? Who is this?

Sure, it's the hut. Who do you need?

- Damnation. Take a telephonogram.
- Go ahead.

- Write it down.
- Just a second.

Let me get a notepad and a pencil.

- Damnation.
- I'm listening.

"Telephonogram number 206,

"to madam Gorynych, Naina Kievna..."

Hang on, not so fast.

Kievna, right. Go on.

"You are hereby invited
to attend, today,

"the 27th of July of this year,

"at midnight,
the annual republican rally..."

- Did you get that?
- Yes.

"The first meeting
will take place on Bald Mountain.

"The dress code is formal.

"Mechanical transportation
is available at your own expense.

"Signed, Head of Chancellery,

"C. M. Viy."

- What's that?
- Viy. C. M. Viy.

I don't understand.

Viy. Chronos Monadovich. Don't you
know the head of the chancellery?

I don't. Can you spell that?

Damnation. Alright, I'll spell it.

Vampire, Incubus, Yeti.
Did you get that?

I think so. That spells "VIY".

You got adenoids or something?
I don't understand.

I'll spell it back:
Vladimir, Ivan, Yegor.

Right. Transmitted by Onuchkina.

Who are you, again?

- You mean, who received it?
- Right.

- Privalov.
- Nice to meet you, Privalov.

Been in harness long?

Horses wear harnesses, I do a job!

Get on with your job then.
See you at the rally.

I found everything that was happening
extremely curious.

The telephonogram,
the rest of that night's events.

I thought I'd read something
about similar cases before,

and I suddenly remembered
that the behavior of people

who wound up in similarly
fantastical situations...

always seemed exasperating
and absurd to me.

Instead of taking full advantage
of the prospects

that their good fortune
presented to them,

they would get scared and confused,

and rush to get back
to their ordinary lives.

I was already thinking over some
experiments with the talking mirror.

I had several questions
for Vasily the cat...

And I was also curious
about the mermaid in the well.

In short, I didn't know
how things would unfold,

but I was prepared to take
the plunge, enthusiastically.

Going to drag me off
to the market again?

Can't you just leave me alone, you pest?

How many more times?

Every time I settle in for a nap,
she pulls me out!

I'm not a young fish, you know,
I must be older than you.

And my gills are giving me trouble too.

It was strange to watch
the way she spoke,

just like a puppet of a pike
in a puppet theater. You see...

- Who's there?
- Just me.

I didn't mean to disturb you,
I just wanted to wash up.

Wash up...
I thought it was the old woman again.

I can't see too well. I'm old.

Anyway, they say the index
of refraction is different in air.

- Who might you be, then?
- I'm a tourist.

A tourist. I thought
it was the old lady.

The things she does to me!

She catches me and drags me
to the market, to sell me for fish stew.

What can I do? I tell
the person who buys me:

"Listen, if you let me go,
I'll grant you a wish.

"Just say: 'By the pike's true command,
at my urgent demand.'"

And they let me go.

Some out of fear, some out of kindness.

Some out of sheer greed.

So what's your wish,
my fine soldier boy?

Only keep it simple.

People ask for televisions,
transistor radios...

One went totally overboard:

"Fulfill my annual quota
at the sawmill."

I'm too old to be sawing wood!

Tell me, how do you work your miracles?

- What do you mean, miracles?
- You know, granting wishes.

Oh, that. How do I do that...

I was trained when
I was little, that's how.

How can I tell you how I do it?

The Golden Fish did it even better,
but she died all the same.

- You can't escape fate.
- Of old age?

Of course not. She was still
young and full of life.

They got her with a depth charge,
my soldier boy.

She went belly up,

and there was some submarine
that happened to be nearby,

and that sank too.

That's the way it goes.

So are you letting me go or what?

I'm feeling short of breath,
must be a storm coming.

Of course.

Do you want me to drop you,
or use the bucket?

Drop me in, soldier boy, drop me in.

And if you want something simple, say,
seven-league boots, or a flying carpet,

I'll be right here. You can always ask.

I thought it over.

The "Knowledge" Society's pamphlets
had accustomed me to believe

that animals can't talk.

Folktales had assured me
of the opposite.

Naturally, I believed the pamphlets,

since I'd never seen
any talking animals.

Not even a parrot.

But now: That pike... Vasily the cat...

and even inanimate objects
in my room.

Although, inanimate objects
do often speak.

And that never would have occurred
to my great-grandfather, for instance.

From his perspective...

A talking cat would be
far less fantastical

than the polished wood box of the radio,

that wheezes, howls, plays music,
and speaks all kinds of languages.

But how did the pike speak?

Pikes don't have lungs. That's a fact.

Although she must have an air bladder,

the function of which,
to the best of my knowledge,

is still not entirely clear
to ichthyologists.

When you try to answer questions
about animals' psychology

and potential capabilities,

you feel completely helpless.

On the other hand,

when you're given
a system of integral equations,

the stellar statistics-type, with
unknown functions under the integral,

you don't feel any better.

Therefore, the important
thing is to think.

Swing him up, swing him down,
they brought the dragon into town!

Swing him up, swing him down,
they brought the dragon into town!

Swing him up, swing him down,
they brought the dragon into town!

They've brought him, my sweetheart.

They take him every Friday.

Who? Where are they taking him?

My beloved, Wyrm Gorynych.

To the test site.

They're always experimenting,
like they got nothing better to do.

Naina Kievna, did you
get the telephonogram?

- Who from?
- C. M. Viy.

Regarding what?

You have some kind of rally today
at Bald Mountain.

Dress code is formal.

- Is that so?
- Yes.

- Where's the telephonogram?
- Over there. On the desk by the phone.

Did it mention...

- anything about dues?
- How do you mean?

Something like: "Outstanding dues
owed must be paid as from 1700."

- No, there was nothing like that.
- Good.

Oh, what about transportation?

- Will they send a car or what?
- At your own expense.

Misers.

Took my broomstick
and put it in a museum.

Won't repair my mortar.

They have the gall to ask
for dues of five rubles,

but I have to travel at my own expense.

That's some expense, my dear guest,
if you have the taxi wait!

My conjectures had been confirmed.

The knot of remarkable events
was being drawn ever tighter.

Shameful to admit, but that seemed
even more interesting to me

than modeling a reflex arc.

But I still had to get some breakfast.

"STEAMED TURNIPS"

Walking across the square I saw
a movie theater showing Kozara,

a bookstore that was
closed for inventory,

the Icebound Sea Hotel, which,
as usual, had no rooms available,

two kiosks selling
sparkling water and ice cream,

shop number two, industrial goods,
and shop number 18, home goods,

cafeteria number 10,
which opened at 12:00,

and canteen number three,
which was closed with no explanation.

Tell me...

Which way's the road to Bald Mountain?

What are you talking about?

There's no road that goes there.

I felt like he made a mental note of me.

"Tearoom no. 13/21"

As I was finishing my second cup of tea,

- I heard the word...
- Sofa.

In that case, what's it even there for,
the hut on chicken legs?

I don't need your theses.
I just need the sofa.

Sixteenth degree, for transgression
no higher than the fourteenth order.

It's easier to model the translator.

I can't do it without the sofa.

What they're interested in is the sofa.

Not the mermaid...

not the talking cat,
it's the sofa they can't do without.

I tried to remember
what that sofa was like,

but couldn't recall anything special.

It was just a regular sofa.

I thought I'd better get back there and
figure out this sofa business properly.

Try experimenting with the mirror.

Have a frank conversation
with Vasily the cat...

and check whether the
Hut on Chicken Legs

had any other interesting things in it.

I didn't have any change left.

But I suddenly found
a five-kopeck coin in my pocket.

I decided to drink it all away.

The experiment took over an hour.

The coin came back
if it was used as payment.

If while paying I held
my hand in one pocket...

the coin would appear in the other.

So, what we were dealing with here

was a so-called "unchangeable"
five-kopeck coin,

we were witnessing it function.

At first I was astounded
by the possibility

of extraspatial displacement
of a physical body.

This was clearly a specific instance

of the notorious "zero-transport",

also known as the repagular leap.

Your papers, please, citizen.

What's the matter?

And the unchangeable coin as well.

Buy a lot, did you?

Yes, 20 boxes... of matches.

Hand them over.

I can't hand over the water, though.

Five glasses with syrup
and four without.

That comes to 74 kopecks.

Just having fun, or what?

Or what.

Careless, citizen. Very careless.

Altogether you owe 81 kopecks.

Here's the receipt.

The unchangeable coin
is from the Lohuchil Museum.

The Log Hut on Chicken Legs.

My replacement will return it tomorrow.
Will you be staying in Solovets long?

We're leaving tomorrow.

Well, just be careful until tomorrow.

I'll do my best. Hey, Sergeant...

Honest question:

Don't you find it a bit strange
here in Solovets?

I've been here a while.

I'm used to it.

Until that evening I tried to be
as careful as possible.

Once I got back to the hut,
I went straight under the car.

Dear guest, could you maybe
give me a lift to Bald Mountain?

They say it's bad for a car
to just stand around.

That it's better to drive it
from time to time.

I'll pay you, don't worry about that.

How far is it?

90 versts (60 miles) one way.

- What's the road like?
- Smooth.

If there's a problem,
I'll push the car myself.

Don't worry about me being old.

I'm still fit, alright.

To get the old lady off my back,
I asked her for 50 rubles.

She stopped bothering me.

I wouldn't do that, mister. I wouldn't.

They'll eat you up.

Hello? Hello?

Who's there?

Push on the cradle.

The sofa was right here.

I was just lying on it.

Hello.

I don't even know how I wound up here.

I've come about the sofa.

Oh, about the sofa.

You're too late.

I can see that. I'll have to report it.

I used to be able to levitate like Zeks.

Now I can barely
get through these walls.

I'm getting old.

A hundred years ago,
or in Gonzast's time, say,

they would have stripped me
of my wizard's diploma for that,

Alexander Ivanovich.

Cristóbal Junta isn't
getting old, though.

He can seep ten leagues through
the drains like it's nothing.

As for the sofa, I'll have to report it.

I'm a courier now.

I just don't have the talent.

No talent.

I got stuck.

What was it about the sofa?

I've never heard any
fairy tales about sofas.

I've heard of flying carpets.

I've heard of self-setting tablecloths.

I've heard of invisibility caps.

Seven-league boots,
self-playing psalteries.

I've heard of magic talking mirrors.
But not magic sofas.

What's this, now?

Hello.

I was sure the vulture could talk.

But it didn't say anything,
and the air smelled of ozone.

If you consider the law
of conservation of energy,

and of matter, as well, vultures
don't just condense out of nothing.

If this vulture appeared here,
in Solovets,

some other vulture disappeared in the
Caucasus or wherever it was they lived.

If we estimated the
energy of translocation...

I realized it was best
not to touch the cylinder.

You shouldn't have done that,
Alexander Ivanovich.

Done what?

I'm referring to the plywitsum.

I don't know what you mean.

Come out, though.
This is no way to talk.

Let me just condense.

Pleasure to make your acquaintance,
Cristóbal Junta.

Nice to meet you.

May I be so bold as to hope
I'm not inconveniencing you too much,

- Alexander Ivanovich?
- Of course not. Please, come in.

- Thank you.
- Come in, have a seat.

Make yourself at home.

- Thank you.
- Tea?

Thank you, as for the tea,

please excuse me, Alexander Ivanovich.

I just had supper.

In any case, I was talking
about the plywitsum.

You shouldn't have
covered it with that pot.

The plywitsum, or magic wand,
as it's referred to in fairy tales,

should be treated with extreme caution.

I'll be so bold as to request
that you remove that pot.

Much obliged. Unfortunately, iron

is effectively opaque to the hyperfield,

and a buildup of hyperfield tension
in a confined space...

Permit me to suggest,
Alexander Ivanovich,

that you not touch the plywitsum again.

Otherwise the consequences might be
dire. This vulture, for instance.

Well, I won't
inconvenience you any further,

Alexander Ivanovich.

If you assure me you won't experiment
with the plywitsum any further,

- I'd like to take my leave.
- Wait, what about... the sofa?

- The sofa...
- Yes...

The sofa is a unique
universal translator.

Somewhat unwieldy,
but very handy and reliable.

Although all these squabbles over it,
these film-style high speed chases,

getting people upset,
and finally the disappearance

of the plywitsum itself,
which is state property,

personally, both as an administrator

and as a scientist,
I find that very troubling.

However...

Wait!

It's such a pleasure talking to you,
and I have a thousand questions to ask!

I'm touched by your tactfulness,
Alexander Ivanovich,

but you're exhausted,
you simply must rest...

No, not at all, just the opposite!

Alexander Ivanovich...

After all the commotion with the sofa,
you're feeling tired.

You need rest.

Rest...

Rest...

Rest...

Then I realized that
I actually was falling asleep.

Wait!

Take this vulture too...

Along with the smell...

I told you to stop this nonsense.

You're a child, Korneev.

You left the plywitsum here.

- Is this the sofa?
- It's not a sofa, it's a translator.

To me it's a sofa.

Inventory number 1123.

There's a damp spot, Korneev.

Did you have it out in the rain?

You'll see, now the springs will rust,

the upholstery will rot.

The value of this item
is not in the upholstery,

or even in the springs,
of which there aren't any.

That's enough, Roman Petrovich,
don't try to protect Korneev.

The sofa's registered to my museum,
that's where it has to stay.

But it's a piece of equipment.
We use it for work.

I wouldn't know about that.

What kind of work do you do with a sofa?

I'm trying to say it's not a sofa,

or, to put it in a way you'd understand,
it's not exactly a sofa.

It's a device that has
the appearance of a sofa.

I don't want to hear your little jabs
about what I do or don't understand.

You stick to your duties
and I'll stick to mine.

My duty is to stop
the squander of state property.

You don't care about research.
Only about inventory.

Enough of that. We'll be
setting up a committee

to determine whether
the relic suffered any damage.

- Inventory number 1123.
- Yes, that's the tenor of things.

And you, what are you doing here?

- Me?
- Yes, you slept on the sofa.

Were you aware it was
a piece of equipment?

I wasn't... But, I mean, I am now.

Modest Matveevich,

this is our new programmer,
Sasha Privalov.

Why were you sleeping here,
and not in the dormitory?

- He hasn't been registered.
- All the more reason.

So he should sleep outside?

That's enough of that.
There are hostels, hotels.

This is a museum, a state institution.

If everybody came to sleep here...

- Where are you from?
- Leningrad.

What if I went to Leningrad,
and slept at the Hermitage?

By all means.

Modest Matveevich,
you're absolutely right.

That shouldn't have happened.
But tonight he'll stay with me.

Well, now you're talking. By all means.

That's the tenor of things.

Numbskull.

To hell with them all,
I'll lift the sofa again tonight.

- You'll know all about it soon, Sasha.
- How's that?

- We need a programmer.
- I desperately need a programmer.

Only no hypnosis, and none of those
enchanted places of yours.

That's not our five-kopeck coin!

Then whose is it?

I don't know,
that's none of my business.

Catching counterfeiters
is your job, Sergeant.

It was confiscated from a citizen
by the name of Privalov,

who's staying here at the Lohuchil.

Privalov? He's a thief,
just as I suspected.

Listen, Sergeant, wait by the window
so he can't escape.

I won't have people casting aspersions
on Comrade Gorynych!

Sasha, you need to get out of here.

There was a cap of invisibility
around here.

Here it is.

Put it on and go.

- Where is that so-and-so?
- The sofa? Right there.

No, where's that programmer of yours?

The programmer?
That was just an apparition.

An ASU model.

I refuse to accept this notice,

and I won't have you cast aspersions
on our entire staff,

and particularly on Comrade Gorynych.

Sasha, get in the car and go.

Don't forget to take the cap off.

Now step on it. Center of town.

So how do you like it here?

- I like it, except it's pretty lively.
- It's always lively at Naina's.

- She didn't upset you, did she?
- No. We barely talked.

- Where are we headed now?
- To the Institute.

- What for?
- Work.

- I'm on vacation.
- Makes no difference.

Monday starts on Saturday.

And this year, August starts in July.

- My friends are waiting.
- We'll take care of that.

Your friends won't notice a thing.

But what is all this, all the
commotion around the sofa?

It's not a sofa, it's a translator,
which creates an M-field around itself.

Simply put, it translates genuine
reality into fairy tale reality.

The only thing that saved you

was that the sofa was running
at quarter capacity, on dark current,

you could have woken up as some
little Tom Thumb or a puss in boots.

To Vitka Korneev, it's an essential
piece of equipment.

To Modest Matveevich Kamnoyedov,
it's a museum exhibit,

inventory number 1123.
Not to be squandered.

Vitka steals the sofa every night,

and Modest's job is essentially
stopping him from doing that.

In short, if you work here,

you'll find out all about it.

I get the sense you're
in dire need of a programmer.

But not just any programmer.

Can I at least ask where
I'm being press-ganged into working?

You can.

The National Institute
for the Technology

of Witchcraft and Thaumaturgy.

Why are you just
standing there? Drive in.

- Where?
- Can't you see?

And then I did see.

But that's a completely different story.

"EPILOGUE"

The Institute of Witchcraft
and Thaumaturgy was a cheerful place.

We worked on problems
of the happiness of mankind.

There was a smell of apples
and conifer woods in the air.

"COFFEE GROUNDS GROUP"

The most beautiful women worked here,

and the finest men.

"AUGURY GROUP"

We were advancing optimism.

We were doing everything in our power

to improve the mental wellbeing
of every single person,

and of humanity as a whole.

"TRANSGRESSIVE EMBRYO GROWTH"

At NITWiT we studied fairy tales,

established a scientific basis
by which to interact with them,

and worked on practical
day-to-day applications

for all fairy tale wonders.

I got a pretty firm grasp
on these things

after working here
as a programmer for six months.

Then came December 31st,
New Year's Eve,

and I'd like to wish us all
a happy new year.

That was Modest Matveevich Kamnoyedov,
who you've already met.

A powerful, inflexible and
profoundly ignorant man.

Yes sir!

Modest Matveevich told me
that tonight, on December 31st,

on New Year's Eve, it was
my turn to do security duty,

and that I was not to allow any
employees to enter the premises.

It was ten minutes before
the start of the new year.

And then I heard...

We're not Descartes, we're not Newton.

To us, science is
a dark wood of wonders.

We're just plain old astronomers...

We pluck the stars down from the sky.

To achieve nature's pacification,

to dissipate the darkness of ignorance,

we take the image of all creation, yes,

and then we simply see what's what.

Vitka Korneev was a hard worker.

His intention was to transform...

all the water in our seas and oceans...

into living water.

And here's the sofa, which was finally
taken from the Hut on Chicken Legs

and transferred
to the research institute.

Can't get anything to work today.

No good ideas.

The sofa doesn't work,
the perch just keeps dying.

- What's wrong with it?
- Who knows.

Where did you find it?

- At the market.
- It's just an ordinary dead fish.

Numbskull, it's living water.

I tried to come up with some advice.

My understanding of the workings
of living water was limited.

It came mainly from the fairy tale about
Tsarevich Ivan and the Gray Wolf.

Fine. To hell with it.

You see? When I give it maximum
energy, everything goes well.

It's a bad specimen. I'm telling you,
it's a regular smoked perch.

Where can I get a proper fish?

- If I only had a fish...
- What for?

Actually, you're right.

If I can't get a different fish,

- I can get some different water!
- No, no, that's no good.

- What, then?
- Clear out of here.

It's New Year's Eve.
You have to leave.

- And go where?
- How should I know?

Listen to me.

No two things in this world
are identical.

All water is different...

I'm an old fool, I forgot about
the dispersion of qualities!

Wait, wait, that's no good.
Don't get carried away.

It's past midnight.
People are waiting for you.

Vera's waiting. Come on, clear out.

Monday starts on Saturday.
We're magicians.

You still don't understand
where it is you work.

You hear that?

And then I finally understood
where it was that I worked,

and the meaning of NITWiT,

the National Institute
for the Technology

of Witchcraft and Thaumaturgy.

The flouting of work hour
regulations was flagrant,

and I felt I no longer had any desire
to put a stop to these violations,

since it was midnight on New Year's Eve,

and these people fought their way
through a blizzard to come here

because they cared more about finishing,

or perhaps starting,
some useful piece of work,

than about dissolving
their wits in vodka,

jerking their legs around
senselessly, playing forfeits,

or engaging in flirting
of varying degrees of casualness.

People came here because they
preferred being together to being apart,

people who couldn't stand
Sundays of any kind,

because on Sundays they got bored.

These were Magicians,
People with a capital P,

and their motto was:
"Monday starts on Saturday."

Yes, they knew a few spells,
they were able to turn water into wine,

they would have easily fed
a thousand people with five loaves.

But that wasn't why they were magicians.

That was just the surface level.

The thing that made them magicians
was that they knew a great deal,

they knew so much that the quantity
had finally transformed into quality,

and their relationship with the world
had become different

than that of ordinary people.

They worked in an institute
whose work was dedicated

to problems of human happiness
and the meaning of life.

Their working premise was
that the idea of happiness

lay in the constant cognition
of the unknown,

and the meaning of life as well.

Everyone is a magician at heart,
but they only become magicians

when they start thinking less
about themselves and more about others,

when work becomes more
interesting to them than amusement,

in the old sense of the word,

and I think their working premise
wasn't too far off the mark,

because just as labor
transformed ape into man,

so the absence of labor,

far more rapidly,

transforms man into ape,

or into something even worse.

We don't always
notice this day-to-day.

Slackers, freeloaders,
social climbers and libertines

all walk on their hind extremities,

and articulate speech quite clearly,

though their range of subjects
becomes extremely narrow.

But in the Institute of
Witchcraft and Thaumaturgy,

there were limitless possibilities
for people to transform into magicians.

And I desperately want
to become a true magician,

and produce happiness.

Privalov - Vladimir Smirnov

Featuring: I. Slobodskaya, O. Lyansberg,
L. Sekirin, V. Kostetskiy,

R. Litvinov, V. Tykke

M. Rozanov, D. Volosov, V. Arsentev

Director: Aleksandr Belinsky

Subtitles by: Darnn