The articles and fragments from the books
Introduction from a book Temperology: Manifesto of a "Middle Class"
Author: Sergey Kronin
Moscow. Autumn. Evening. A drizzling rain. From the window of the car the city is dazzling by its resplendence. Everything is beaming with live scintillating light: glass of the shops, coffee bars, roofs of the cars and windows of the houses are glaring. Splashes of different colors are dancing on the wet cars. Even the asphalt seems to be a bright luminous alley that is shining internally.
But in front of me a heaven-high colossus has arisen, it’s a mystic silhouette of Triumphal Arch. Beyond it, to the left and further one may see a bright spire of Poklonnaya Mountain (the Bowing Mountain). It is not a secret that there are several "cultic" places in Moscow, which are world known symbols: Red Square, Cathedral of Christ the Savior, and Poklonnaya Mountain... Though, most of people can hardly understand the real concern and significance of that place, which architecture, engineering and tasks completely correspond to all canons of the ritual temple complex. Moreover, its monumentality and grandiosity may be compared with temple complexes of the Ancient World.
So, it is not occasional that the "public" activity of the Open Temperological Institute (further OTI) is occurring exactly here, less than in hundred meters from Triumphal Arch, at the Victory Square, 1. Exactly here a historic lection that will be imprinted in thesaurus of human thought is to be presented tonight. Poklonnaya Mountain and a prospect to Triumphal Arch fit ideally for this event of great importance, as if they are emphasizing and complementing the significance of the moment.
I am turning from the Kutuzovsky prospect to the parallel street and placing a car into a parking space in 3 meters from entrance to a monumental building of Stalin’s time among the cars of the students who have already arrived to the lecture. I am glancing at my watch: it is ten minutes before the beginning, there is time.
I am deliberately taking a full pack of cigarettes, opening it up and stilly starting smoking. At that moment I’m recollecting myself to the contemplation of huge bronze sculptures of roman warriors like they were refuging from the rain in the alcoves of Triumphal Arch. Their appearance is full of nobility and tranquility. It seems that and they will move in a minute...
I am crushing out my cigarette and dismounting from a car ignoring the drizzling rain. I am stopping and ranging my eyes round Kutuzovsky Prospect. The picture of bright lights in combination with evening shades is spellbinding by its mystic beauty. Raindrops, practically planing in the air, are making the face fresh, lying down on the sleeves and laps of the long leather coat like strasses are making it as a mystic or martial cloak from some "fantasy". Being wrapped in sparkled coat I am looking for a while at the silhouettes of roman warriors trying to prolong the consciousness of grandness of the moment. Soft east breeze is starting to blow causing a tingle in the face by cool raindrops that were only increasing impression of other non-Moscow reality.
Well, it’s time to go now. I’m making few steps to the room that is full of bright light, fresh heady air of new furniture, paint smells and something else, this scent of new good repair. I am passing fifty steps along the long resounding hallway, echoing to each step, and entering into the large lighted lecture hall. There are high four-meter ceiling, bright ground and walls, combined of yellow and blue materials with glittering pieces, large windows with the view to the Kutuzovsky prospect and sparkling legionaries, quite comfortable chairs with collapsible tables... Before the white board there is a professional camera on a tripod for making a film of the forthcoming lecture. Everything is ready to start.
The guests are lively talking about something. They are standing in the far corner of the hall and I can not hear the topic by which they are captivated. I am hearing their laugh; seeing how they are arguing something with ardor. They are not noticing me during their discussion and I am taking off my coat, folding it and throwing it on the free chair. I’m taking a sit and looking on from a distance: the "blood" is being up in discussion. It’s interesting if the disputers are awaking to the fact that today they are becoming the part of the history themselves. And were those people who have heard firstly from Einstein about his theory of relativity either from Freud about birth of psychoanalysis or from Mendeleev about his Periodic Table even awaking to the same? Yes, today is the great moment to which I have been going more than ten years. I was always admiring the thinkers of the past Volter, Lomonosov, Kant, Tsyolkovsky. But could I ever think that it was me and no one else at present time, it was me who would make such a major contribution to the ground of public thought! The contribution is a real jolt of fresh air for most humanitarian and social sciences of modern world.
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