About a beautiful and furious world. Andrey Platonov - In a beautiful and furious world (Machinist Maltsev)

At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.

He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first-class driver and had been driving fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. Worked as an assistant to Maltsev old man from the depot mechanics named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov, but he soon passed the driver exam and went to work on another machine, and I, instead of Drabanov, was assigned to work in Maltsev’s brigade as an assistant; Before that, I also worked as a mechanic’s assistant, but only on an old, low-power machine.

I was pleased with my assignment. The IS machine, the only one on our traction site at that time, evoked a feeling of inspiration in me by its very appearance; I could look at her for a long time, and a special, touched joy awoke in me - as beautiful as in childhood when reading Pushkin’s poems for the first time. In addition, I wanted to work in the crew of a first-class mechanic in order to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.

Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently; he apparently did not care who his assistants would be.

Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me, he again checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.

This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my disappointment. Taking your attention away from the devices monitoring your condition

As the locomotive ran, from observing the work of the left engine and the path ahead, I glanced at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed the entire outer world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind of a car piercing into space, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev’s gaze, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what would become of it after us, where it flew.

It was our fault that we were never late; on the contrary, we were often delayed at intermediate stations, which we had to proceed on the move, because we were running with time catching up and, through delays, we were put back on schedule.

We usually worked in silence; Only occasionally did Alexander Vasilyevich, without turning in my direction, knock the key on the boiler, wanting me to draw my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine, or preparing me for a sharp change in this mode, so that I would be vigilant. I always understood the silent instructions of my senior comrade and worked with full diligence, but the mechanic still treated me, as well as the lubricator-stoker, aloof and constantly checked the grease nipples in the parking lots, the tightness of the bolts in the drawbar units, tested the axle boxes on the drive axes and so on. If I had just inspected and lubricated any working rubbing part, then Maltsev, after me, inspected and lubricated it again, as if not considering my work valid.

“I, Alexander Vasilyevich, have already checked this crosshead,” I told him one day when he began checking this part after me.

“But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.

Later I understood the meaning of his sadness and the reason for his constant indifference towards us. He felt superior to us because he understood the car more precisely than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal ahead, at the same moment sensing the path, the weight of the composition and the force of the machine. Maltsev understood, of course, that in diligence, in diligence, we could even overcome him, but he could not imagine that we loved the locomotive more than him and drove trains better than him - he thought it was impossible to do better. And that’s why Maltsev was sad with us; he missed his talent as if he were lonely, not knowing how to express it to us so that we would understand.

And we, however, could not understand his skills. I once asked to be allowed to conduct the composition myself; Alexander Vasilyevich allowed me to drive about forty kilometers and sat in the assistant’s place. I drove the train and after twenty kilometers I was already four minutes late, and I covered the exits from long climbs at a speed of no more than thirty kilometers per hour. Maltsev drove the car after me; he took the climbs at a speed of fifty kilometers, and on the curves his car did not throw up like mine, and he soon made up for the time I had lost.

I worked as Maltsev’s assistant for about a year, from August to July, and on July 5, Maltsev made his last trip as a courier train driver...

We took a train of eighty passenger axles, which was four hours late on its way to us. The dispatcher went to the locomotive and specifically asked Alexander Vasilyevich to reduce the train's delay as much as possible, to reduce this delay to at least three hours, otherwise it would be difficult for him to issue an empty train onto the neighboring road. Maltsev promised to catch up with time, and we moved forward.

It was eight o'clock in the afternoon, but the summer day still lasted, and the sun shone with the solemn strength of the morning. Alexander Vasilyevich demanded that I keep the steam pressure in the boiler only half an atmosphere below the limit all the time.

Half an hour later we emerged into the steppe, onto a calm, soft profile. Maltsev brought the speed up to ninety kilometers and did not go lower; on the contrary, on horizontals and small slopes he brought the speed up to one hundred kilometers. On climbs, I forced the firebox to its maximum capacity and forced the fireman to manually load the scoop, to help the stoker machine, because my steam was running low.

Maltsev drove the car forward, moving the regulator to the entire arc and putting the reverse (1) to full cutoff. We were now walking towards a powerful cloud that appeared over the horizon. From our side, the cloud was illuminated by the sun, and from inside it was torn by fierce, irritated lightning, and we saw how swords of lightning pierced vertically into the silent distant land, and we rushed madly towards that distant land, as if rushing to its defense. Alexander Vasilyevich, apparently, was captivated by this spectacle: he leaned far out the window, looking ahead, and his eyes, accustomed to smoke, fire and space, now sparkled with inspiration. He understood that the work and power of our machine could be compared with the work of a thunderstorm, and perhaps he was proud of this thought.

Soon we noticed a dust whirlwind rushing across the steppe towards us. This means that the storm was bearing a thundercloud on our foreheads. The light darkened around us; the dry earth and steppe sand whistled and scraped against the iron body of the locomotive; there was no visibility, and I started the turbo dynamo for illumination and turned on the headlight in front of the locomotive. It was now difficult for us to breathe from the hot dusty whirlwind that was billowing into the cabin and redoubled in its strength by the oncoming movement of the machine, from the flue gases and the early darkness that surrounded us. The locomotive howled its way forward into the vague, stuffy darkness - into the slit of light created by the frontal searchlight. The speed dropped to sixty kilometers; we worked and looked forward, as if in a dream.

Suddenly a large drop hit the windshield - and immediately dried up, consumed by the hot wind. Then an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes and penetrated me to my shuddering heart; I grabbed the injector valve (2), but the pain in my heart had already left me, and I immediately looked in the direction of Maltsev - he was looking forward and driving the car without changing his face.

What was that? - I asked the fireman.

Lightning, he said. “I wanted to hit us, but I missed a little.”

Maltsev heard our words.

What lightning? - he asked loudly.

“Now it was,” said the fireman.

“I didn’t see,” Maltsev said and turned his face outward again.

I didn't see it! - the fireman was surprised. “I thought the boiler exploded when the light came on, but he didn’t see it.”

I also doubted that it was lightning.

Where's the thunder? - I asked.

We passed the thunder,” explained the fireman. - Thunder always strikes afterwards. By the time it hit, by the time it shook the air, by the time it went back and forth, we had already flown past it. Passengers may have heard - they are behind.

It got completely dark, and it came good night. We smelled it damp earth, the fragrance of herbs and bread, saturated with rain and thunderstorms, and rushed forward, catching up with time.

I noticed that Maltsev’s driving became worse - we were thrown around on curves, the speed reached more than a hundred kilometers, then dropped to forty. I decided that Alexander Vasilyevich was probably very tired, and therefore did not say anything to him, although it was very difficult for me to keep the furnace and boiler operating in the best mode with such behavior from the mechanic. However, in half an hour we must stop to get water, and there, at the stop, Alexander Vasilyevich will eat and rest a little. We have already caught up for forty minutes, and we will have at least an hour to catch up before the end of our traction section.

Still, I became concerned about Maltsev’s fatigue and began to look carefully ahead - at the path and at the signals. On my side, above the left car, an electric lamp was burning, illuminating the waving drawbar mechanism. I clearly saw the tense, confident work of the left machine, but then the lamp above it went out and began to burn poorly, like one candle. I turned back into the cabin. There, too, all the lamps were now burning at a quarter incandescence, barely illuminating the instruments. It’s strange that Alexander Vasilyevich did not knock on me with the key at that moment to point out such a disorder. It was clear that the turbodynamo did not give the calculated speed and the voltage dropped. I began to regulate the turbodynamo through the steam line and fiddled with this device for a long time, but the voltage did not rise.

At this time, a hazy cloud of red light passed across the instrument dials and the ceiling of the cabin. I looked outside.

Ahead, in the darkness, close or far - it was impossible to determine, a red streak of light wavered across our path. I didn’t understand what it was, but I understood what had to be done.

Alexander Vasilievich! - I shouted and gave three beeps to stop.

Explosions of firecrackers (3) were heard under the tires (4) of our wheels. I rushed to Maltsev; he turned his face towards me and looked at me with empty, calm eyes. The needle on the tachometer dial showed a speed of sixty kilometers.

Maltsev! - I shouted. - We're crushing firecrackers! - and extended his hands to the controls.

Away! - Maltsev exclaimed, and his eyes shone, reflecting the light of the dim lamp above the tachometer.

He immediately applied the emergency brake and reversed.

I was pressed against the boiler, I heard the howling of wheel tires, whittling the rails.

Maltsev! - I said. - We need to open the cylinder valves, we’ll break the car.

No need! We won't break it! - answered Maltsev. We stopped. I pumped water into the boiler with an injector and looked outside. Ahead of us, about ten meters, a steam locomotive stood on our line, with its tender (5) in our direction. There was a man on the tender; in his hands was a long poker, red-hot at the end; and he waved it, wanting to stop the courier train. This locomotive was the pusher of a freight train that had stopped at the stage.

This means that while I was adjusting the turbo dynamo and not looking ahead, we passed a yellow traffic light, and then a red one and, probably, more than one warning signal from the linemen. But why didn’t Maltsev notice these signals?

Kostya! - Alexander Vasilyevich called me. I approached him.

Kostya! What's ahead of us? I explained to him.

The next day I brought the return train to my station and handed over the locomotive to the depot, because the bandages on two of its ramps had slightly shifted. Having reported the incident to the head of the depot, I led Maltsev by the arm to his place of residence; Maltsev himself was seriously depressed and did not go to the head of the depot.

We had not yet reached the house on the grassy street in which Maltsev lived when he asked me to leave him alone.

“You can’t,” I answered. - You, Alexander Vasilyevich, are a blind man.

He looked at me with clear, thinking eyes.

Now I see, go home... I see everything - my wife came out to meet me.

At the gates of the house where Maltsev lived, a woman, the wife of Alexander Vasilyevich, actually stood waiting, and her open black hair glistened in the sun.

Is her head covered or bare? - I asked.

“Without,” Maltsev answered. - Who is blind - you or me?

Well, if you see it, then look,” I decided and walked away from Maltsev.

Maltsev was put on trial, and an investigation began. The investigator called me and asked what I thought about the incident with the courier train. I replied that I thought that Maltsev was not to blame.

At the Tolubeevsky depot, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev was considered the best locomotive driver.

He was about thirty years old, but he already had the qualifications of a first-class driver and had been driving fast trains for a long time. When the first powerful passenger locomotive of the IS series arrived at our depot, Maltsev was assigned to work on this machine, which was quite reasonable and correct. An elderly man from the depot mechanics named Fyodor Petrovich Drabanov worked as an assistant for Maltsev, but he soon passed the driver exam and went to work on another machine, and I, instead of Drabanov, was assigned to work in Maltsev’s brigade as an assistant; Before that, I also worked as a mechanic’s assistant, but only on an old, low-power machine.

I was pleased with my assignment. The IS machine, the only one on our traction site at that time, made me feel inspired by its very appearance; I could look at her for a long time, and a special, touched joy awakened in me - as beautiful as in childhood when reading Pushkin’s poems for the first time. In addition, I wanted to work in the crew of a first-class mechanic in order to learn from him the art of driving heavy high-speed trains.

Alexander Vasilyevich accepted my appointment to his brigade calmly and indifferently; he apparently did not care who his assistants would be.

Before the trip, as usual, I checked all the components of the car, tested all its servicing and auxiliary mechanisms and calmed down, considering the car ready for the trip. Alexander Vasilyevich saw my work, he followed it, but after me, he again checked the condition of the car with his own hands, as if he did not trust me.

This was repeated later, and I was already accustomed to the fact that Alexander Vasilyevich constantly interfered with my duties, although he was silently upset. But usually, as soon as we were on the move, I forgot about my disappointment. Distracting my attention from the instruments monitoring the condition of the running locomotive, from monitoring the operation of the left car and the path ahead, I glanced at Maltsev. He led the cast with the courageous confidence of a great master, with the concentration of an inspired artist who has absorbed the entire outer world into his inner experience and therefore dominates it. Alexander Vasilyevich’s eyes looked ahead abstractly, as if empty, but I knew that he saw with them the whole road ahead and all of nature rushing towards us - even a sparrow, swept from the ballast slope by the wind of a car piercing into space, even this sparrow attracted Maltsev’s gaze, and he turned his head for a moment after the sparrow: what would become of it after us, where it flew.

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In a beautiful and furious world Andrey Platonov

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Title: In a beautiful and furious world

About the book “In a Beautiful and Furious World” Andrei Platonov

Andrei Platonov, known primarily for his story “The Pit” and the novel “Chevengur,” is also the author of many wonderful stories.
“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a beautiful lyrical and philosophical work O " little man"and its place in a complex, confusing world. This is a story about human destiny, talent, and vocation.

The main character is a talented driver Maltsev. He is so immersed in his work that he does not notice anyone around him. Maybe that's why he's so lonely.

Andrei Platonov portrayed in his work a man completely absorbed in the only activity that brings him pleasure. For Maltsev, the world around him only makes sense when it rushes past him. He is literally fascinated by his profession, and his entire existence comes down only to it. But some things and events are beyond a person’s control, so unforeseen circumstances can interfere with the usual course of life at any moment. And then you can easily lose what you value so much. And no matter how strong a person is, he has no power over the elements.

“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a story about how one misfortune can be part of another. And also that a person is able to overcome any obstacles.
Andrei Platonov makes his hero a winner. The ending of the story is completely unpredictable. But is this victory worth the effort? In order to give an independent answer, you need to read both the story and the book.

“In a Beautiful and Furious World” is a wonderful work, filled with genuine faith in a person capable of fighting cruel fate and unfair circumstances. The author writes with warmth about ordinary people, their everyday problems and difficulties in relationships with eternity.

Andrey Platonov is the author of many excellent stories. Without exaggeration, all of them are wonderful and full of light sadness. Reading them can be recommended to those who, despite everything, continue to believe in man and his unique mission on earth.

The author's works are a completely unique phenomenon in Russian literature. His bright, unique characters with a mindset that is imprinted with both the surrounding Soviet reality and the irrepressible imagination of the author remain forever in memory. With his creativity, Andrei Platonov managed to expand many of the usual frameworks into which Russian literature had been squeezed before him. He was one of the most talented and mysterious writers of his era. He perfectly felt the tragedy of every person, torn off and thrown to the margins of existence.

The main character of the story, Alexander Vasilyevich Maltsev, was considered the best locomotive driver in the depot. He was quite young - about thirty years old - but already had the status of a first class driver. And no one was surprised when he was assigned to a brand new and very powerful

Passenger steam locomotive "IS". It was "reasonable and correct." The narrator became Maltsev's assistant. He was extremely pleased that he got into this IS car - the only one in the depot.

Maltsev showed virtually no feelings towards the new assistant, although he closely watched his work. The narrator was always amazed that after checking the machine and its lubrication, Maltsev rechecked everything himself and lubricated it again. The narrator was often annoyed at this oddity in the driver’s behavior, believing that they simply didn’t trust him, but then he got used to it. To the sound of the wheels, he forgot about his offense, carried away by the instruments. Often

He looked at how inspired Maltsev was driving the car. It was like an actor's performance. Maltsev closely followed not only the road, but also managed to enjoy the beauty of nature, and even little sparrow, caught in the air stream from the locomotive, did not escape his gaze.

The work always happened in silence. And only sometimes Maltsev tapped the boiler with the key, “wishing that I would turn my attention to some disorder in the operating mode of the machine...”. The narrator says that he worked very hard, but the driver’s attitude towards him was exactly the same as towards the oiler-stoker, and he still carefully checked all the details of his assistant. One day, unable to resist, the narrator asked Maltsev why he double-checked everything after him. “But I want it myself,” Maltsev answered smiling, and in his smile there was sadness that struck me.” Only later did the reason for this sadness become clear: “he felt superior to us, because he understood the car more accurately than we did, and he did not believe that I or anyone else could learn the secret of his talent, the secret of seeing both a passing sparrow and a signal at the same time.” ahead, feeling at the same moment the path, the weight of the train and the force of the machine." This means that he was simply bored alone with his talent.

One day the narrator asked Maltsev to let him drive the car a little, but his car began to spin when turning, the climbs were overcome slowly, and very soon he was four minutes late. As soon as control passed into the hands of the driver himself, the delay was caught up.

The narrator worked for Maltsev for about a year when a tragic story happened... Maltsev’s car took a train of eighty passenger axles, which were already running three hours late. Maltsev’s task was to reduce this time as much as possible, at least by an hour.

We hit the road. The car was working almost at its limit, and the speed was no less than ninety kilometers per hour.

The train was traveling towards a huge cloud, inside of which everything was bubbling and lightning was flashing. Soon the driver's cabin was engulfed in a whirlwind of dust; almost nothing was visible. Suddenly lightning struck: “an instant blue light flashed at my eyelashes and penetrated me to my shuddering heart; I grabbed the injector tap, but the pain in my heart had already left me.” The narrator looked at Maltsev: he didn’t even change his face. As it turned out, he didn’t even see lightning.

Soon the train passed the rain, which began after the lightning, and drove out into the steppe. The narrator noticed that Maltsev began to drive the car worse: the train was thrown around on turns, the speed either decreased or increased sharply. Apparently the driver was just tired.

Busy with electrical problems, the narrator did not notice that the train was rushing under red warning lights. The wheels are already clattering like firecrackers. "We're crushing firecrackers!" – the narrator shouted and reached for the controls. "Away!" – Maltsev exclaimed and slammed on the brakes.

The locomotive stopped. About ten meters away from him there is another locomotive, its driver was waving a red hot poker with all his might, giving a signal. This meant that while the narrator turned away, Maltsev drove first under the yellow, then under the red signal, and who knows what other signals. Why didn't he stop? “Kostya!” Alexander Vasilyevich called me.

I approached him. - Kostya! What's ahead of us? – I explained to him.

The narrator brought the dejected Maltsev home. Near the house itself, he asked to be left alone. To the narrator’s objections, he replied: “Now I see, go home...” And indeed, he saw his wife come out to meet him. Kostya decided to check him and asked whether his wife’s head was covered with a scarf or not. And having received the correct answer, he left the driver.

Maltsev was put on trial. The narrator tried his best to justify his boss. But they could not forgive him for the fact that Maltsev endangered not only his life, but also the lives of thousands of people. Why didn’t blind Maltsev transfer control to someone else? Why did he take such a risk?

The narrator will ask Maltsev the same questions.

"I was used to seeing the light, and I thought I saw it, but I saw it then only in my mind, in my imagination. In fact, I was blind, but I didn’t know that. I didn’t even believe in firecrackers, although I heard them: I thought I misheard. And when you blew the stop horn and shouted to me, I saw a green signal ahead, I didn’t guess right away.” The narrator responded to Maltsev’s words with understanding.

The following year, the narrator takes the driver's exam. Every time, leaving on the road, checking the car, he sees Maltsev sitting on a painted bench. He leaned on a cane and turned his face with empty, blind eyes towards the locomotive. "Away!" - that’s all he said in response to the narrator’s attempts to console him. But one day Kostya invited Maltsev to go with him: “Tomorrow at ten thirty I will drive the train. If you sit quietly, I will take you into the car.” Maltsev agreed.

The next day the narrator invited Maltsev to the car. The blind man was ready to obey, so he humbly promised not to touch anything, but only to obey. His driver put one hand on the reverse, and the other on the brake lever, and put his hands on top to help. On the way back we walked the same way. Already on the way to the destination, the narrator saw a yellow traffic light, but decided to check his teacher and went to the yellow one at full speed.

“I see a yellow light,” Maltsev said. “Or maybe you’re just imagining that you’re seeing the light again!” - answered the narrator. Then Maltsev turned his face to him and began to cry.

He drove the car to the end without help. And in the evening the narrator went with Maltsev to his home and for a long time could not leave him alone, “like his own son, without protection against the action of the sudden and hostile forces of our beautiful and furious world.”

The hero of Andrei Platonov's story is the young and talented driver of a passenger locomotive, Maltsev. This young and ambitious young man, who is about thirty years old, already holds the position of a top-class driver on the new and powerful steam locomotive "IS", devoting all his time and energy to his favorite work, he can no longer imagine his life without his favorite business.

The narrator of the work is Maltsev’s young ward, a new machinist who is just starting his work, but he is upset by his partner that he shows obvious distrust in relation to his work done. Also, the young partner was upset by the fact that work with Maltsev usually took place in exceptional silence without stories and ordinary human communication typical of two people working together.

However, all grievances and omissions were forgotten overnight at the moment when the passenger locomotive set off, Maltsev’s partner was amazed that he managed to understand this iron mechanism so subtly and sensitively, and also not miss the beauty of the passing mime of the world.

The young assistant worked for the outstanding driver for about one year and was amazed at his true talent to perform sometimes unimaginable things on the locomotive, but all this idyll was suddenly crossed out by a tragic event, which completely crossed out the usual way of life for Maltsev.

The story of Andrei Platonov is true proof that even talented and successful people in their business sometimes vitally need support and understanding from the outside, and personal prejudices and hidden pride become absolutely unimportant.

Read the summary In the furious and beautiful world of Platonov

The usual way of life for Maltsev is destroyed by a tragic event that occurred in one of the summer months. Then in July, Maltsev’s assistant set off on his last voyage with his senior mentor and they had to take with them a train that was four hours late. The station dispatcher asked the senior driver to make up for the time lost in the delay for at least one hour.

Trying to follow the dispatcher's instructions, the senior driver pushes out the full power of his train. But suddenly, as an obstacle on their way, a summer thundercloud appears, which blinds Maltsev with its discharges. But despite his blurred vision, the experienced driver does not slow down and with all his confidence continues to control the passenger locomotive. His younger partner notices his very awkward and sometimes poor management.

On the way of the passenger train, an oncoming locomotive appears and comes to meet them. Then Maltsev has to admit to the loss of his vision and give control to his partner Konstantin. Thanks to the actions of the young driver, it is possible to prevent an emergency. And by the morning after his arrival, Maltsev’s vision returned.

However, based on the fact that the experienced driver did not transfer control to his assistant in the event of a dangerous situation, he faced a trial.

Trying to help his friend and mentor, Konstantin is looking for a way out of the current situation. Then he turns to his friend from the institute for help. And he learns that with the help of a Tesla machine, which produces an artificial lightning discharge, it is possible to prove the innocence of his partner.

Konstantin turns to the investigative committee with a request to check Maltsev in this car. And during the experiment, the innocence of the senior driver was completely proven, but unfortunately, Maltsev lost his sight completely.

The senior driver completely loses hope that he will ever have the opportunity to once again drive his favorite passenger locomotive and catch his gaze at the passing beauty of his native land.

Dejected by his current situation, the saddened senior driver with a cane constantly comes to the station, sits on a bench and simply listens to the trains passing by him.

Having once noticed a destitute partner with a cane, Konstantin decides to take Maltsev with him on a flight. Maltsev happily agrees to this proposal and promises that he will not interfere, but will simply sit quietly next to him.

Incredibly, Maltsev's lost vision is restored during the trip and Konstantin decides that his mentor should complete the journey on his own.

After the work has been done, both partners go home to Maltsev together and talk with each other on various topics all night. Konstantin is afraid to leave Maltsev, feeling responsible for him in front of a cruel and furious world.

The work “In a Beautiful and Furious World” reflects and proves the existence of human compassion, support, friendship, love and devotion to loved ones, all of which are facets of soul and warmth in the human world.

Picture or drawing In a beautiful and furious world