will drown you
in knapsacks.
How far is it, this room?
If you go straight, about 200 meters,
but there's no going straight here.
Let's go.
Give up your empiricism, Professor.
Miracles are outside empiricism.
Remember how St. Peter
was nearly drowned?
Go, Writer.
Go where?
Up these stairs.
Professor, where are you?
Here is the dry tunnel!
You call it dry?
This is a local joke.
Normally one has to swim here.
Wait, where's Professor?
- What?
- Professor has disappeared!
How could it happen?
He was following you all the way.
He probably lagged behind and
lost his way.
No, he didn't lose his way!
He must've gone for the knapsack!
He won't be able to make it now.
Shall we wait for him?
We can't. Things change here
every minute. We'll have to go.
Look! What is it? How could it be?
- I already explained.
- What did you explain?
It's the Zone, don't you understand?
Let's go, quick. It's...
There he is!
I'm certainly grateful to you
that you... but...
How did you get here?
Mostly I had to crawl up here
on my fours.
Incredible.
How did you manage to overtake us?
What do you mean, "overtake"?
I came back here for the knapsack.
And how has our nut gotten here?
Oh, my God, that's...
the trap!
Porcupine put this nut here
on purpose.
How could the Zone let us through?
Oh God, I'm not going
to take one more step until...
I don't like it.
That's it! We rest!
But keep off this nut,
just in case.
Sorry, but I thought that
Professor won't be able to make it.
You see, l...
I never know beforehand what kind
of people I'm taking with me.
Everything gets clear only here,
when it's too late.
What's important is that Professor's
bag with his underwear is safe.
Don't stick your nose in someone's
underwear if you don't understand it.
What is there to understand?
Binomial theorem?
Some psychological abysses!
You have a bad reputation
at your institute.
They don't give you money
for an expedition.
So you decide to pack a knapsack
full of manometers and other shit...
penetrate the Zone illegally...
and put all these miracles
to an algebra test.
No one in the world
has ever heard of the Zone.
So we'll work a sure sensation!
The television, fans raving
and bringing laurel wreaths.
Here our Professor appears,
all in white,
and declares:
"Mene-mene, tekel, uprasin."
Everyone gaping
and shouting:
"He deserves a Nobel Prize!"
You lousy scribbler,
a homespun psychoanalyst.
You're only good for painting walls
in public toilets, you blabbermouth.
No good. Too sluggish.
You don't know how to do it.
All right. I'm going to get
a Nobel Prize.
And what are you after?
Want to bless mankind
with the pearls
of your purchased inspiration?
I don't care a damn about mankind.
Of all your mankind
I'm interested
only in one man - myself.
Whether I'm worth anything
or I'm just shit like others.
And if you find out
that you're really...
You know, Mr. Einstein,
I have no wish to argue with you.
Truth is born of argument,
damn it!
Listen, Chingachgook...
You've brought here
many people.
Not as many as I would like.
That's not the point. Why did they
come here? What did they want?
Happiness, I guess.
Yes, but what kind of happiness?
People don't like to speak about
their innermost feelings.
And it's neither yours
nor mine business.
In any case, you've been lucky.
As for me, I haven't seen
one happy man in my life.
Me neither.
They return from the room
and I lead them back,
and we never see each other again.
It's not that wishes come true
immediately.
Have you ever wished
to use this room yourself?
I'm fine as I am.
Listen, Professor.
Speaking of the purchased inspiration.
Let's imagine that I enter this room
and return to our God-forsaken
town a genius.
A man writes because he's tormented,
because he doubts.
He needs to constantly prove
to himself and the others
that he's worth something.
And if I know for sure
that I'm a genius?
Why