The Old Genie Hottabych

WHAT GOOD OPTICAL INSTRUMENTS CAN LEAD TO

Zhenya and Hottabych had been awaiting Volka on the bank for a long time. It was very still. The vast sky was spread above them. The full moon cast its cold, bluish light.

Zhenya had brought his binoculars along and was now looking at the moon.

“You can dismiss the astronomy club,” Volka said, coming up to them. “The next act on our show is the solemn freeing of our good friend, Omar Asaf! Music! Curtain!”

“That mean old thing will have to manage without music,” Zhenya muttered.

In order to emphasize his loathing for the horrible Genie, he turned his back on the vessel and studied the moon through his binoculars for such a long time, that he finally heard Omar Asaf’s squeaky voice:

“May your humble servant, O mighty Volka, ask what purpose these black pipes serve which your friend Zhenya — and my greatly esteemed master — has pressed to his noble eyes?”

“They’re binoculars. It’s to see things closer,” Volka tried to explain. “Zhenya’s looking at the moon through them, to see it better. It makes things bigger.”

“I can imagine how pleasant such a pastime can be,” Omar Asaf said ingratiatingly.

He kept trying to peep into the binoculars, but Zhenya purposely turned away from him. The conceited Genie was cut to the quick by such a lack of respect. Oh, if not for the presence of the almighty Volka, who had stopped the Sun itself with a single word, then Omar Asaf would certainly have known how to deal with the unruly boy! But Volka was standing beside them, and the enraged Genie had no choice but to ask Zhenya in a wheedling voice to let him have a look at the great planet of the night through such interesting binoculars.

“I join my brother in asking you to do him this favour,” Hottabych added.

Zhenya reluctantly handed Omar Asaf the binoculars.

“The despicable boy has cast a spell on the magic pipes!”

Omar Asaf cried a few moments later and crashed the binoculars to the ground. “Instead of making things bigger, they make the moon much smaller! Oh, some day I will lay my hands on this boy!”

“You’re always ready to abuse people!” Volka said in disgust. “What has Zhenya to do with it? You’re looking through the wrong end.”

He picked up the binoculars and handed them back to the angry Genie. “You have to look through the small end.”

Omar Asaf followed his advice cautiously and soon sighed:

“Alas, I had a much better opinion of this celestial body. I see that it is all pock-marked and has ragged edges, just like the tray of the poorest day-labourer. The stars are much better.-Though they are much smaller than the moon, they at least have no visible faults.”

“O my brother, let me see for myself,” Hottabych said and he, too, looked through the binoculars with interest. “This time I believe my brother is right,” he added with surprise.

This made it only too clear that Omar Asaf had long since fallen greatly in his estimation.

“What ignorance,” Zhenya scoffed. “It’s high time you knew that the moon is millions of times smaller than any of the stars.”

“Enough! I can no longer take the constant mockery of this brat!” Omar Asaf roared and grabbed Zhenya by the collar. “Next, you’ll say that a speck of sand is bigger than a mountain. I wouldn’t put it past you. Enough! This time I’ll do away with you for good!”

“Stop!” Volka shouted. “Stop, or I’ll bring the Moon down upon you, and not even a wet spot will remain where you now stand! You know I can do it with my eyes closed. I think you know me by now.”

The enraged Omar Asaf reluctantly let go of a frightened Zhenya.

“You’re raving for nothing again,” Volka continued. “Zhenya’s right. Sit down and I’ll try to explain things to you.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I know everything already,” Omar Asaf objected conceitedly. Yet, he dared not disobey.

Volka could talk about astronomy for hours on end. This was his favourite subject. He had read every popular book on the structure of the Universe and could retell their contents to anyone who’d care to listen. But Omar Asaf obviously did not want to listen. He kept on snickering contemptuously. Finally unable to control himself any longer, he grumbled:

“I’ll never believe your words until I convince myself of their truth.”

“What do you mean ‘convince yourself’? Don’t tell me you want to fly to the Moon in order to be convinced that it’s a huge sphere and not a little saucer?”

“And why not?” Omar Asaf asked haughtily. “Why, I can fly off today, if I want to.”

“But the Moon is millions of miles away.”

“Omar Asaf is not afraid of great distances. And all the more so, since — forgive me — I greatly doubt the truth of your words.”

“But the way to the Moon lies through outer space, where there’s no air,” Volka objected conscientiously.

“I can manage quite well without breathing.”

“Let him go! We’ll have plenty of trouble with him if he stays,” Zhenya whispered fiercely.

“Sure, he can go,” Volka agreed quietly, “but still, I consider it my duty to warn him about what awaits him on the way… Omar Asaf,” he continued, turning towards the conceited Genie, “bear in mind that it’s terribly cold there.”

“I am not afraid of the cold. I’ll be seeing you soon. Good-bye!”

“If that’s the case, and if you’ve decided to fly to the Moon, come what may, then at least listen to one piece of advice. Do you promise to obey my words?”

“All right, I promise,” the Genie answered condescendingly, his awe of Volka obviously diminishing.

“You must leave the Earth at a speed of no less than eleven kilometres a second; otherwise you can be sure you’ll never reach the Moon.”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” Omar Asaf said, compressing his thin blue lips. “And how big is a kilometre? Tell me, for I know of no such measurement.”

“Let’s see now. How can I explain?… Well, a kilometre is about a thousand four hundred steps.”

“Your steps? That means there are no more than a thousand two hundred of my steps in a kilometre. Maybe even less.”

Omar Asaf had an exaggerated idea about his height. He was no taller than Volka, but they could not convince him of this.

“Be sure not to crash into the cupola of the Heavens,” Hottabych admonished his brother, not being completely convinced of Volka’s stories about the structure of the Universe.

“Don’t teach someone who knows more than you,” Omar Asaf said coldly and soared into the air. He instantly became white hot and disappeared from view, leaving a long fiery trail behind.

“Let’s wait for him here, my friends,” Hottabych suggested timidly, for he felt guilty for all the unpleasantness Omar Asaf had caused them.

“No, there’s no use waiting for him now. You’ll never see him again,” Volka said. “He didn’t listen to my advice, which was based on scientific knowledge, and he’ll never return to the Earth. Since your Omar took off at a speed which was less than eleven kilometres a second, he’ll be circling the Earth forever. If you want to know, he’s become a sputnik.”

“If you have no objections, I’ll wait for him here a while,” a saddened Hottabych whispered.

Late that night he slipped into Volka’s room. Turning into a goldfish, he dived silently into the aquarium. Whenever Hottabych was upset by anything, he spent the night in the aquarium instead of under Volka’s bed. This time he was especially upset. He had waited for his brother for over five hours, but Omar Asaf had not returned.

Some day scientists will develop precision instruments that will make it possible to note the smallest amount of gravitation the Earth experiences from the tiniest of celestial bodies passing close to its surface. And then an astronomer, who, perhaps, read this book in his childhood, will determine, after long and laborious calculations, that someplace, comparatively close to the Earth, there rotates a celestial body weighing a hundred and thirty pounds. Then, Omar Asaf, a grouchy and narrow-minded Genie who turned into an Earth satellite because of his impossible character and ignorant scoffing at scientific facts, will be entered into the great astronomical catalogue as a many-numbered figure.

Someone who heard of this instructive tale about Hottabych’s brother once told us in all seriousness that one night he had seen something flash across the sky which in shape resembled an old man with a long flowing beard. As concerns the author of this book, he does not believe the story, for Omar Asaf was a very insignificant man.