The Old Genie Hottabych

WHO’S THE RICHEST?

“Let’s go for a walk, O crystal of my soul,” Hottabych said the next day.

“On one condition only, and that’s that you won’t shy away from every bus like a village horse. But I’m insulting village horses for nothing. They haven’t shied away from cars in a long, long time. And it’s about time you got used to the idea that these aren’t any Jirjises, but honest-to-goodness Russian internal combustion engines.”

“I hear and I obey, O Volka ibn Alyosha,” the old man answered timidly.

“Then repeat after me: I will never again be afraid of…”

“I will never again be afraid of…”

“. … buses, trolley-buses, trolley-cars, trucks, helicopters…”

“… buses, trolley-buses, trolley-cars, trucks, helicopters…”

“… automobiles, searchlights, excavators, typewriters…”

“… automobiles, searchlights, excavators, typewriters…” “… gramophones, loud-speakers, vacuum-cleaners…” “… gramophones, loud-speakers, vacuum-cleaners…” “… electric plugs, TV-sets, fans and rubber toys that squeak.’* “… electric plugs, TV-sets, fans and rubber toys that squeak.” “Well, I guess that takes care of everything,” Volka said. “Well, I guess that takes care of everything,” Hottabych repeated automatically, and they both burst out laughing.

In order to harden the old man’s nerves, they crossed the busiest streets at least twenty times. Then they rode on a trolley-car for a long while and, finally, tired but content, they boarded a bus.

They rode off, bouncing softly on the leather-upholstered seats.

Volka was engrossed in a copy of Pionerskaya Pravda, the children’s newspaper. The old man was lost in thought and kept glancing at his young companion kindly from time to time. Then his face broke into a smile, evidently reflecting some pleasant idea he had conceived.

The bus took them to the doorstep. Soon they were back in Volka’s room.

“Do you know what, O most honourable of secondary school pupils?” Hottabych began the minute the door closed behind them. “I think you should be more aloof and reserved in your relations with the young inhabitants of your house. Believe it or not, my heart was ready to break when I heard them shouting: ‘Hey, Volka!’ ‘Hello, Volka!’ and so forth, all of which is obviously unworthy of you. Forgive me for being so outspoken, O blessed one, but you have slackened the reins unnecessarily. How can they be your equals when you are the richest of the rich, to say nothing of your other innumerable qualities?”

“Huh! They certainly are my equals. One boy is even a grade ahead of me, and we’re all equally rich.”

“No, you are mistaken here, O treasure of my soul!” Hottabych cried delightedly and led Volka to the window. “Look, and be convinced of the truth of my words.”

A strange sight met Volka’s eyes.

A few moments before, the left half of their tremendous yard had been occupied by a volley-ball pitch, a big pile of fresh sand for the toddlers, “giant steps” and swings for the daring, exercise bars and rings for athletics fans, and one long and two round bright flower-beds for all the inhabitants to enjoy.

Now, instead of all this, there towered in glittering magnificence three marble palaces in an ancient Asiatic style. Great columns adorned the façades. Shady gardens crowned the flat roofs, and strange red, yellow and blue flowers grew in the flower-beds. The spray issuing from exotic fountains sparkled like precious stones in the sunlight. Beside the entrance of each palace stood two giants holding huge curved swords. Volka and Hottabych went down to the yard. At the sight of Volka, the giants fell to their knees as one and greeted him in thunderous voices, while terrible flames escaped their mouths. Volka shuddered.

“May my young master not fear these beings, for these are peaceful Ifrits whom I have placed at the entrance to glorify your name.”

The giants again fell to their knees and, spitting flames, they thundered obediently, “Order us as you wish, O mighty master!”

“Please get up! I do wish you’d get up,” Volka said in great embarrassment. “Why do you keep falling on your knees all the time? It’s just like feudalism. Get up this minute, and don’t you ever let me catch you crawling like this. Shame on you! Shame on both of you!”

Looking at each other in dismay, the Ifrits rose and silently resumed their previous stand of “attention.”

“Well now!” Volka mumbled. “Come on, Hottabych, let’s have a look at your palaces.” He skipped up the steps lightly and entered the first palace.

“These are not my palaces, they are your palaces,” the old man objected respectfully as he followed Volka in.

However, the boy paid no attention to his words.

The first palace was made entirely of rare pink marble. Its heavy carved sandalwood doors were studded with silver nails and adorned with silver stars and bright red rubies.

The second palace was made of light blue marble and had ten doors of rare ebony studded with gold nails and adorned with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds.

In the middle of the second palace was the mirror-like surface of a large pool, the home of goldfish the size of sturgeon.

“That’s instead of your little aquarium,” Hottabych explained shyly. “I think this is the only kind of aquarium in keeping with your great dignity.”

“Hm, imagine picking up one of those fishes. It’ll bite your hand off,” Volka thought.

“And now, do me the honour of casting a kindly glance at the third palace,” Hottabych said.

They entered the portals of the third palace. It glittered so magnificently that Volka gasped:

“Why, it’s just like the Metro! It’s just like the Komsomolskaya Station!”

“You haven’t seen it all yet, O blessed one!” Hottabych said quickly.

He led Volka out into the yard. Once again the giants “presented arms,” but Hottabych ignored them and pointed to the shining golden plaques adorning the entrances to the palaces. On each the same words were engraved, words which made Volka both hot and cold at the same time:

“These palaces belong to the most noble and glorious of youths of this city, to the most beautiful of the beautiful, the most wise of the wise, to him who is replete with endless qualities and perfections, the unmatched and unsurpassed scholar in geography and other sciences, the first among divers, the best of all swimmers and volley-ball players, the unchallenged champion of billiards and ping-pong — to the Royal Young Pioneer Volka ibn Alyosha, may his name be glorified for ages to come as well as the names of his fortunate parents.”

“With your permission,” Hottabych said, bursting with pride and happiness, “I wish, when you come to live here with your parents, that you appoint me a corner, too, so that your new residence will not separate us and I may thus have the opportunity at all times to express my deep respect and devotion to you.”

“In the first place, these inscriptions aren’t very objective,” Volka said after a short pause, “but that’s not the most important thing in the long run. It’s not important, because we’ll have to hang up new signs.”

“I understand you and cannot but blame myself for being so short-sighted,” the old man said in an embarrassed tone. “Naturally, the inscriptions should have been made in precious stones. You are most worthy of it.”

“You misunderstood me, Hottabych. I wanted the inscriptions to read that these palaces belong to the RONO. (District Department of Education.) You see, in our country all the palaces belong to the RONO, or to the sanatoriums.”

“Which RONO?”

Volka misunderstood Hottabych’s question.

“It doesn’t matter which, but I’d rather it belonged to the Krasnopresnensky RONO. That’s the district I was born in, that’s where I grew up and learned how to read and write.”

“I don’t know who that RONO is,” Hottabych said bitterly, “and I’m quite ready to believe that he is a worthy person. But did RONO free me from my thousands of years of imprisonment in the vessel? No, it was not RONO, it was you, O wonderful youth, and that is why these palaces will belong to you alone and no one else.”

“But don’t you see…”

“I don’t want to! They are yours or no one’s!”

Never before had Volka seen Hottabych so angry. His face was purple and his eyes were flashing. The old man was obviously trying hard to keep his temper.

“Does that mean you don’t agree, O crystal of my soul?”

“Of course not. What do I need these palaces for? What do you think I am, a clubhouse, or an office, or a kindergarten?”

“Ah-h-h!” Hottabych sighed unhappily and shrugged. “We’ll have to try something else then!”

The palaces became hazy, swayed, and dissolved into thin air, like a fog blown by the wind. The giants howled and shot upwards, where they, too, disappeared.