From the author: Primary source Once upon a time there lived a robot Jan. It was created a long time ago to serve people. And he did his job perfectly. For many years he worked faithfully and devotedly for the benefit of humanity. He knew how to do calculations, clean the house, carry on a conversation and much more. At night they turned him off and put him in a corner. In the darkness he stood silently until morning came, so that he could do the necessary things again. The hand of the night clock ticked quietly, counting down the minutes of his life, such an imperceptible and insignificant life. And if it ended, the Universe wouldn’t even notice, and no one would have lost much. Just think, a piece of iron has disappeared. This one can be made again, it can even be made much better. This is what the robot thought about itself before it was turned off. And each time could be the last. He was one of millions like him. There were even robots a hundred times better than him, new ones that were fast, functional, and beautiful. They fit so harmoniously into the interiors of houses and into people's lives. People wanted to take care of such robots, they were proud of their robots, and showed them to friends. But Ian never went further than his yard, because he was rusty and creaky. His fading crystal pupils looked with indifference, and perhaps sadness, at the raindrops on the windows, at the noisy, mischievous children launching boats in the streams, at the rainbow and sunlight penetrating into the house. He dutifully performed his duties and tried to be flexible . Days followed each other, but routine and the endless cold emptiness and meaninglessness of what was happening remained inside the robot. And they were like a dark abyss, nothing in which one could disappear so easily, and almost no one would stop him. What is it like to be someone who has no life in him? Did the people around you know about this?.. “What is life? Why was I created as a robot, and not as a human or a bird?” - Ian thought. “Yes, yes, I want to be a bird. I saw them play at dawn and build nests and fly away somewhere far away, to other lands. I saw them bathe in damp leaves and cheerfully shake drops of dew from their feathers. They can sit on the treetops and see the rising sun, they can rise up to hear the silence of the sky and meet the playing wise wind. I know this is their strength. Birds are one with the wind, kindred spirits, they need each other... But I have no soul.” – The robot was silent, sweeping the floor. And these thoughts, and this endless cold emptiness absorbed him. Day after day he noticed how clumsy and decrepit he became. His crystal pupils became cloudy, the mechanisms moved worse and worse, until, finally, one day he was turned on, but he could not move. They did not repair him. After all, he has served people well for so many years. The expiration date had expired, and it was possible to put a confident end to this story by following the truck with the garbage that went to the landfill. But sometimes in life it happens that the story takes a strange and very unexpected turn, going beyond the statistics, that very routine, which we are all so accustomed to. Sometimes, by some amazing chance or decision from above, circumstances can turn out so unpredictably. And, probably, in this there is something special and important for someone else besides us. And anything can happen. The truck shook, bouncing on the bumps. Having approached the landfill, the driver backed up, turned around, and dumped the fetid contents, adding to the huge pile of garbage and waste. Jackdaws and crows rose up, a black flock, filling the sky, began screaming and frantically flapping its wings, as if something unimaginable had happened. Together with Our robot also fell out as garbage. It was all smeared with dirt, and they forgot to turn it off. That is, they forgot to press that same button for the last time. Therefore, the robot observed everything that happened to it on this journey to the landfill. He could not move, but still as before he could see and hear what was happening around him. He fell well because he could look at the sky. Oh, what a wonderful sky it was! Can an artist convey…»