92
TALES FROMTHE FUTURE
“Come to me, dear daughter,” Ivan Nikiforovich, said, trying to restrain
himself, and he held out his hands to his daughter, opening them for a hug.
Dasha ran to her father. She jumped into his lap and wrapped her little
arms around her father’s neck, pressed up to his cheek briefly, and then
slipped off his lap and stood next to him, leaning her head toward him.
For some reason Ivan Nikiforovich had a hard time hiding his emotion,
and he started speaking to his daughter:
“Don’t be upset, Dashenka. Mama isn’t afraid when you think anymore.
Just tell us what you’re thinking about. What is it you absolutely must finish
thinking and why do the clock’s hands move so quickly when you’re think-
ing?
“Dear Papa, I want to make everything nice big in time and everything
not nice small and unnoticeable or, basically, that’s what I want to finish
thinking, so that the clock’s hands jump over what’s not nice and it doesn’t
happen.”
“But after all, everything that is and isn’t nice doesn’t depend on the
clock’s hands, Dashenka.”
“Not on the hands, dear Papa. I understand it’s not the hands. But I move
them at the same time so I feel the time. The cuckoo marks off the speed of
my thought because I need to finish in time. . . . And so I move the clock’s
hands.”
“How do you do that, Dashenka?”
“It’s simple. I imagine the clock’s hands with the edge of my thought, and
then I think they should move faster—and they do move faster when I start
thinking fast.”
“What do you want to achieve by moving time, dear daughter? What
don’t you like about what is?”
“I do like what is. I understood a long time ago that it’s not time’s fault.
It’s people themselves who spoil their own time. You, dear Papa, often sit by
your computer and then you go away for a long time. You, dear Papa, are
spoiling time when you leave.”
“Me? Spoiling it? In what way?”
“Good time is when we’re together. When we’re together there are very
