Alisa Permyakova's incredible story "Karma" with deep meaning
A stunning story about karma, told in a modern and humorous manner, capable of changing anyone's life.
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Text of the story "Karma":
Anna Valeryevna died quite peacefully. The stroke occurred in her sleep, and so she woke up not in her bed, but in a spacious room with many other people, like her, expecting to see something different. After pushing her way through the crowd and figuring out what was what and where, Anna Valeryevna squeezed her way to the large information desk, which first sent her back to the line, then to the exit. Only on her third attempt (to Anna Valeryevna's great satisfaction, as even greater bureaucrats had been stormed) did the teller deign to run her through the database and announce:
"Here's the karma printout. Third office on the right, around the left corner—get your supplies. Then come on over. Next."
Anna Valeryevna obediently took the printout, didn't understand anything about it, and headed in the direction indicated.
"Give me karma!" Anna Valeryevna jumped in surprise.
"K-karma?"
"Can you give me anything else?" the people behind the counter cynically inquired, practically snatching the printout from Anna Valeryevna's hands. "Well, let's face it, your karma isn't great. You won't get much done with that."
"I don't want to fight," Anna stammered, frightened.
"That's what you all say," they waved her off and continued, "with the number of points you've accumulated, you can buy 138 Earth years of human life, 200 years of bird life, or 300 years in the form of wood or stone. I recommend stone. Trees are sometimes chopped down."
"One hundred and thirty-eight…" Anna Valeryevna began, but was interrupted again. "Precisely one hundred and thirty-eight years of a standard, unremarkable life, with an ordinary appearance and nothing out of the ordinary."
"And what about some outliers?... I'm just clarifying, just in case..."
"Well, take your pick. There are plenty of outliers. Talent means 40 years of life, wealth—depending on its size, marriage, frankly, ruins half your life. Children take away 15 years... So, do you want children?"
"No... I mean, yes... two... no, three..."
"You decide."
"Marriage, three children, talent, wealth, and to travel the world!" Anna Valeryevna blurted out breathlessly, feverishly recalling what else she'd missed in her previous life—"and beauty!"
"She's not a fool!" someone chuckled from behind the counter. "And now, dear Anna Valeryevna, let's do the math." Marriage is 64 years, so 64 remain. Three children – another 45. That leaves 19. Talent, let's say, not world-class, maybe regional, maybe 20 years. And wealth, at least 20 years. You should have lived better in your previous life; you haven't gained enough years.
Well... - Anna Valeryevna bit her lip, - if nothing...
And if nothing, then you'll live 138 years alone in a cramped apartment, just big enough for one person, and with a healthy lifestyle, you'll last longer next time – they brushed Anna Valeryevna off.
And nothing can be done?
Well, why not? - they softened behind the counter. - We can arrange a difficult childhood for you – then you'll free up 10 years. You can marry late – then he won't have to spend half his life. If there's a divorce, there'll be another loan, and if your husband is a satrap, then maybe we can add world-class talent to the mix. "That's robbery..." "A tyrant mother-in-law cleanses karma quite well," they ignored her indignation and continued, "can I add a drunken obstetrician and a disability since childhood? And if you wish..." "I won't wish it!" Anna Valeryevna tried to take control of the situation. "I'd like two children, please, a marriage for about 40 years at the current exchange rate, let him have regional talent, and wealth enough to travel, nothing more."
"That's it? Shouldn't I shower you with beauty? You still have 50 years left... no? Then I'll fill it up..." The girl behind the counter took out a mug and began pouring powders of different colors into it, muttering under her breath, "A forty-year marriage, yes, children—two of them, talent... talent... that's it, money... here, and the rest from the husband... That's it!"
Anna Valeryevna glanced suspiciously at the half-liter mug filled with colored sand handed to her from behind the counter.
"And if, say, I don't use my talent, will I live longer?"
"How you'll live is your problem. I've packed your order; mix it with water and drink it. The goods are sealed and cannot be returned or exchanged! If you buy a coat and don't wear it, that's your problem."
"Ah…"
"I assure you, you won't need the invoice."
"Ah…"
"What's with all this 'Ah' and 'Ah'! You chose your destiny, we've created the conditions for you, and the rest is in your hands. The water cooler is around the corner. Next!"
The last thing Anna Valeryevna managed to think before giving birth was: "So, it seems like everything happened with my knowledge and permission, ...