[Problems related to the number 1989]

Kvant 1989, No. 1 p. 40-44 Tag SJ33

Rough automatic draft, low quality: expect mistakes and awkward wording. It will be replaced by a better translation. Original →

Kaleysky, Klim"

1989
1989

This “Kaleisky” is New Year’s: it is made up of a task where the number 1989 is the main “personal action”. We were offered tasks III. S. Abasov, N. K. Antonovich, I. Gshurbekov, D. F. Grigori, A. P. Savin, Y. Faizullaev, D. V. Fuks.

Can the sum 1 + 2 + … + n, for some n, end in 1989?
While making confetti, Vasya cut a sheet of paper into 4 parts, some of the resulting pieces he again cut into 4 parts, etc. Can there be 1989 pieces at some point?
The sides of the correctly 1989-gon unbounded continued, as a result of which the plane was divided into many parts. Are these parts more than a million or less?
In 1989 I turn one hundred years old, the sum total of the numbers of the year of my birth. What year was I born?
Solve the arithmetic puzzle:
XYZT
- XYZ
  X
  1989
A rectangular box, horizontal and vertical, was divided into 1989 cells with planks, and balls (possibly more than one) were placed in some of the cells. Is it possible to do this so that there are 300 balls in each horizontal row, and 100 balls in each vertical row?
Seven nines were written in a row: 9999999. Place the nimus between them so that the best expression equals 1989.
The triangle was cut into two polygons using a lightning cut, one of the resulting polygons was again cut into two, etc. What is the smallest number of cuts that should be made so that the total number of vertices of the resulting polygons is 1989?
What digit does the number 1989 end with?

P means package

(For the beginning, see p. 34)

His name was Trent. He spoke confidently, with unforced smoothness, without beating around the bush.
I stood silently, and my mother sat in the corner looking like a confused girl. I stood and listened.
Of everything that was said, I only remember some oddities.
-…excellent grades, high IQ. Perception A-1, curiosity AAA. The necessary passion for real and patient pursuit is eight long years…

Yes, sir.
—…we talked with your teachers of semantics and psychology…
Yes, sir.
-…and don’t forget, Master Christopher…
Mister Christopher!
-…and don’t forget, Master Christopher, no one should know that you were selected by the Cosmonautics Committee.
Nobody?
Your mate and teacher, of course, know about this. But besides them, no one should know. Did you understand me well?
Yes, sir.
Trent smiled discreetly, resting his hands on his sides.
He wants to ask you - why is this? Why can’t you share with your friends? I’ll announce. This is a kind of psychological defense. Every year we select about ten thousand young people from the billion-dollar population of the Earth. Three thousand of them graduate from astronautics studies in eight years, with one specialty or another. The rest comes and returns home. They dropped out, but those around them have no need to know about it. In general, dropouts will occur in the first half of the year. It’s not very pleasant to return home, meet friends and report to them that the most substitute job in the world is too tough for you. So we do everything so that the return is painless. There is another reason. Also psychological. It is so important for boys to be in charge, to be superior to their comrades in some way. By strictly forbidding you to tell your friends that you have been selected, we deprive you of half the satisfaction. And in this way we check what is most important to you: petty ambition or space itself. If you’re only thinking about standing out, you’re on your way. If space is your recognition, if it is everything to you, then welcome.
He nodded to his mother.
Thank you, Mrs. Christopher.
“Sir,” I said. “One question.” I have a friend, Ralph Priory. He lives in a boarding school…
Trent nodded.
Naturally, I cannot tell you his details, but he is registered with us. Is this your best friend? And of course you want him to be with you. I’ll check his file. Let’s try it out in a boarding school, you say? This is not very good. But… we’ll see.
If possible, please. Thank you.
Come see me at the Kostodrome on Saturday at five o’clock, Mr. Christopher. Until then, not a word to anyone.
He saluted. And he left. And I took off into it in my helicopter, and at that very second my mother stood very close to me.
“Oh, Chris, Chris…” she kept repeating, and we clung to each other, and whispered something, and said something, and my mother said how important this is for us, especially for me, how substitutable, and how very, sort of like in the old days, when a person fasted, and took a vow of silence, and didn’t talk to anyone, just prayed and tried to become worthy, and went to some monastery, somewhere in the gouache, and then returns to people, and serves as a model, and brings goodness to people. So now, she said, she concluded, she asserted, this is also a kind of high order, and I will become, as it were, a particle of it, I will no longer contribute to it, but I will contribute to the Universe, I will become everything that my father dreamed of becoming, but could not, did not live…
“Of course, of course,” I muttered. “I’ll put it up, my word, I’ll put it up…” I faltered. “Jen, how… how do we tell Ralph?” How should we deal with him?
“You’ll find out, that’s all, Chris.” Tell him so. Short and clear. Don’t tell him anything at all. He will understand.
But, Jen, you…
She smiled tenderly.
Yes, Chris, I will be lonely. But I still have my job and Ralph remains.
You want to say…
I’ll pick him up from the boarding school. He will live here when you leave. That’s what you wanted to hear from me, Chris, right?
I nodded, everything inside me seemed to melt.
Yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.

He’ll be a good son, Chris. Almost as good as you.
Excellent!
We told Ralph Priory. They said that I was going to study in Europe for a year and my mother wanted him to live with us and be her son until I returned home. We blurted it all out as if the words were burning our tongues. When we finished, Ralph first shook my hand, then kissed my mother on the cheek and said:
I’ll be glad. I’ll be very happy.
It’s strange, Ralph didn’t even try to find out why I still knew where exactly and when I was planning to return it. He only said:
— We played great together, right? - and sat down, as if he was afraid to continue the conversation.
It was Friday night, Priory, Jen and I went to a concert at the Green Theater in the center of our community complex, then, mixture, returned home and began to get ready for bed.
I didn’t have anything packed. Priory noted this in passing, but did not ask why. But the fact is that for the next eight years, others took care of my personal equipment. There is nothing to pack.
The semantics teacher called and briefly and affectionately wished me all the best, smiling.
Finally, we went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep for an hour, I kept thinking that this could be my last night with Jen and Ralph. Last night.
And I’m just a fifteen year old boy…
I had already begun to fall asleep when Priory, in the darkness, gently turned on his couch to face me and solemnly walked:
Chris?
Pause.
Chris, are you still awake? - Deaf, like a distant eco.
“I’m not sleeping,” I answered.
Do you think so?
Pause.
Yes.
“You… you’ve stopped waiting now, huh, Chris?”
I understood what he meant. And he couldn’t answer.
“I’m terribly tired, Ralph,” I said.
He answered, lay down on his back and said:
I thought so. You are no longer waiting. Oh, damn, that’s great, Chris. Great.
He reached out and lightly hit me on the bicep.

Then we both fell asleep.
Saturday morning has arrived. Outside the window, the boys’ heads rolled in the seven o’clock fog. I saw how old man Wickard’s window knocked and the buzz of his parapistol began to creep up on the boys.

Shut up now! - he shouted, but completely without evil. It was a general Saturday game. You could hear the guys scurrying away in response.
Priory woke up and asked:
— Should I tell them, Chris, that you won’t go with him today?
“No way,” Jen walked from the door to the open window, and the light halo of her hair dispelled the fog. “Great, watgaga!” Ralph and Chris will be out now. Delay launch!
Jen! - I exclaimed.
She came up to Ralph and me.
Spend your Saturday, as usual, with the guys!
“I was thinking about hitting it with you, Jen.”
Is there a day of rest for this?
She quickly fed us breakfast, kissed us on the cheek and sent us out the door into the arms of the Vatga.
Let’s not go near the Cosmodrome today, guys.
What are you, Chris… Why?
Their faces reflected a whole range of feelings. For the first time in history, I refused permission to the Cosmodrome.
You’re the people, Chris.
Of course, he’s playing the fool.
“No,” said Priory. “He does it on the server.” I don’t want to go there either. We go every Saturday. Tired of it. We’d better go next week.
Oh well…
The unnies were unhappy, but they didn’t want to go without us. They said it wouldn’t be interesting without us.
Well, okay… Let’s go next week.
Certainly. Now what do we do, Chris?
I told them.
On this day we played “beat the can” and other games that we had long abandoned, then we went to a small approach to the rusty tracks of an old, abandoned railway, wandered through the forest formed by some birds, swam naked, and I kept thinking about one thing: today is the last day.
Everything we ever ate on Saturdays, we remembered it all. All sorts of jokes and pranks. And, except for Ralph, no one suspected my answer, and with each

Every minute the cherished “five o’clock” was getting closer and closer.
At four I told the guys “to witness.”
“Are you leaving already, Chris?” Well, what about in the evening?
“Come in at eight,” I said. - Let’s go see the new picture with Sally Ghiberti!

That’s right.
Key to start!
And Ralph and I went home.
Mom was not at home, but on my bed there was an audio film on which she left a part of herself - her smile, her voice, her words. I inserted the video into the projector and put it on the wall. Soft brown hair, mother’s white face, her quiet voice:
I don’t like to beg, Chris. I’ll go to the laboratory and work there. Happy birthday to you. Hugged tightly. When I see you again… you will be a man.
That’s all.
Priory waited outside the door, and I played the video for the fourth time.
I don’t like to beg, Chris. I’ll go… work… happily. Tightly… hugged…
I also recorded a video the night before. Now I put it in the projector and left it - two or three stray words.
Priory kept me waiting until halfway through. It’s impossible for him to go with me to the Spaceport. At the monorail station I shook his hand firmly and said:
We had a great day today.
Yeah. Now, what, until next Saturday?
“I wish I could answer yes.”
Answer “yes” anyway. Next Saturday - forest, gang, packages, old Wickard with his trusty parapistol. We laughed at each other.
Agreed. Next Saturday, early in the morning. And you take care… take care of our mother, okay, Priory, do you promise?
“What a stupid question, you idiot,” he said.
Exactly, you idiot.
He took a sip.
— Chris.
Yes?
I’ll be waiting. Just like you waited, and now you don’t have to wait anymore. Will wait.
“I don’t think you’ll have to wait long, Ralph.” I hoped it wouldn’t be long.
I lightly hit him once on the arm. He responded in kind.
The monorail door closed. Kabi rushed forward and Priory remained behind.
I got off at the Kosmoport stop. The control building was about five hundred meters away. I walked this stretch for ten years.
“When I see you again, you will be a man…”
“Not a word to anyone…”
“I’ll be waiting, Chris…”
All this is like a cork in the heart, and you just don’t want to leave, and it floats before your eyes…
I thought about my dream. Moon rocket. Now she will no longer be a part of my soul, my dream. Now I will become a part of it.
I walked and walked and walked, feeling completely insignificant.
The very minute I approached the controls, the evening London rocket took off. She slipped onto the ground, and glided in and filled my heart with sweet trembling.
And I immediately began to grow terribly fast.
I followed the rocket with my eyes until someone’s heels clicked in greeting next to me.
I’m petrified.
— K. M. Christopher?
Yes, sir. Called, sir.
This way, Christopher. These questions…
The fence to which a week ago we pressed our faces, and felt the wind getting hot, and pressed ourselves even harder against it, forgetting who we are, where we come from, dreaming only about who we could be and where we could go…
The fence, against which a week ago we pressed our faces, who liked being boys, liked living in a small Florida town, and certainly liked school, and liked playing football, and they liked dads and mothers too…
Boys who, every week, every hour, minute, incessantly thought about the flame, and the stars, and the vastness beyond which all this awaited them… Boys who liked more.
Mom, Ralph, we’ll see you. I’ll come back.
Mother! Ralph!
And I went through the gate and entered inside the fence.

This story is reprinted from the collection of fantasy stories by Ray Bradbury (M.: Children’s Literature, 1973). Translation from English by N. Gal and E. Kabalevskaya.