It is a quiet evening in the steppe. The red disk of the sun has already touched the faraway, misty horizon. It's too late to get back home. I've stayed too long here among my insects and I am getting ready to spend the night in the open. Thank goodness, I still have some water in the field bottle. I also have some mosquito repellent left and one really needs it here, with the hosts of gnats on the steep shores of this salty lake. I am in the steppes of Kamyshlovo valley. The valley used to carry a mighty tributary of the Irtysh river, but the plowing of the steppes and the deforestation of the hills has turned the river into a deep, broad gully speckled by a string of salty lakes like this one.

The evening is quiet and calm tonight. Pods of ducks gleam over the evening lake and I can hear sandpipers in the distance. The high, pearly sky stretches over the soothing world of the steppe. Oh, how good it is to be out here, in the open country!

I am ready to settle for the night on the very edge of the steppe on the grassy glade above the gully. I've spread out my coat on the ground and set the backpack down as my pillow, collected few dry cakes of cow manure and lit them up before lying down. The romantic, unforgettable smell of bluish smoke is slowly spreading across the dozing plane. I lie down on my simple bed, stretch my tired legs and anticipate yet another wonderful night in the open country. The blue smoke will take me quietly into the land of fairy tales as the night's drowsiness is overcoming me quite fast. I shrink to a very small size of an ant, then I grow enormous, the size of the whole sky and I am about to fall asleep. But why is it that these "pre sleep transformations" of my bodily dimensions are somewhat unusual today, so strong? A new sensation has mixed in, a sensation of falling as though the high cliff above the gully has been snatched away from under me and I were falling into an unknown, terrible abyss!

Suddenly, I see flashes in front of my eyes and I open them but, the flashes would not disappear. They keep dancing on the pearly silver evening sky above and on the grass around me. I can feel a strong metallic taste in my mouth, as though I have pressed my tongue to the contact plates of a small electric battery. My ears have started ringing and I can distinctly hear the double beats of my own heart.

How can one sleep when such things are going on!

I sit up and try to drive away these unpleasant sensations but, nothing comes out of my efforts. The only result is that the flashes are no longer wide and blurred but, they became sharp and clear now, like sparks or perhaps small arcs and they make it difficult for me to look around. Now I remember. I had a very similar experience a few years ago in Lesochek [Little Grove], or to be more precise in the Enchanted Grove [the author is referring to localities of an entomological preserve in Omsk Region]. I have to get up and go for a walk around the lake shore. Does it feel like this everywhere around here? No. I feel a clear effect of "something" only right here, a meter from the edge of the cliff, while the effect clearly disappears ten meters further into the steppe. It gets a bit frightening. I am alone in the deserted countryside, by the "Enchanted Lake". I should pack up quickly and clear out but, my curiosity takes over me. What is this, really? Could it be that the smell of the salty lake water and the rotting slime would do this to me? I slid down down the cliff side under the steppe and sit down by the edge of the water. The thick, sweetish smell of sapropel and the rotting remains of algae has enveloped me like the mud in a spa. I sit there for five, may be ten minutes with no unpleasant sensations. It would be much better to sleep here, only if it weren't so damp. I climb back up onto the plane of the steppe and the same old story repeats! My head begins to spin and I get that galvanic, sour taste in my mouth again and I feel as though my weight were constantly changing. I feel incredibly light at one moment and unbearably heavy the next and the same streaks of light flash in my eyes as before. If this were indeed a "bad spot", some nasty anomaly, then no grass would grow here and the large bees would not be nesting just below in the loamy edge of the cliff. Yet, their nests are all over the place and in fact, I had made my bed right above their underground "bee cities", with their multitude of tunnels and chambers whose depths harbor so many larvae and cocoons, all

of them alive and thriving. Albeit, I understood nothing at this time and I got up from my unpleasant bed with a headache long before the sunrise and hobbled off, all tired, toward the road to catch a hitch to Isilkul.

I have visited the "Enchanted Lake" four more times that summer at various times of the day and under various weather conditions. My bees got incredibly busy toward the end of the summer stuffing their holes with pollen of the wild flowers and apparently feeling excellent. That was not my case though, while standing about a meter off the cliff edge above their nests. The set of the most unpleasant sensations would again settle in me, right here, while there would be none some five meters away and I feel the same old bewilderment: Why? Why do these bees feel so good here, feel so great that the entire cliff is drilled with their holes like a Swiss cheese and in places looking almost like a sponge?

The solution to this has come to me many years later, when the bee city in Kamyshlovo Valley has long since disappeared. The tillage reached the very edge of the cliff. Its top has consequently dropped off and what used to be a hard earthen bank with its bee nests and grassy top has turned into an atrocious and ugly, muddy slide.

But I had a handful of old clay lumps, the fragments of the nests with their multiple chamber cells, back at my home. Their side by side cells

reminded me of small thimbles, or little jugs with narrowing necks. I already knew that these bees were of the quadruple ring species, with 4 light rings on their elongated bellies. I had a wide container filled with these spongy clay lumps on my equipment cluttered desk, along with ant and grasshopper houses, bottles with chemicals and other assorted interesting stuff. I was about to pick something or another up and I moved my hand above these porous fragments.

A miracle! I had suddenly felt the warmth emanating from these remains. I've touched the lumps with my bare hand yet, they were cold. But, I could clearly feel the thermal sensation right above them. I could also feel some hitherto unknown jerks, some sort of "tick" in my fingers, besides the warmth. When I pushed the jar with the nests to the end of the desk and leaned over it, I had felt the same sensation in my head, the feeling, which has overwhelmed me by the lake. I felt again as if I were getting lighter and bigger, with the vertigo of my body falling down. I saw the same rapid flashes of light in my eyes and my mouth had the electric battery in it again. I have also become a bit nauseous...

I placed a sheet of cardboard over the jar, but the sensation wouldn't change. A have covered the jar with metallic pot lid but, it changed nothing either. It looked as if "something" was acting right through it. I was compelled to study the phenomenon at once but, what could I do at home, without any necessary physical instruments? The help came from many research scientists of various institutes of the Agricultural Academy in Novosibirsk. But alas, the instruments like thermometers, ultrasound detectors, magnetometers and electrometers did not respond to the nests in the slightest. We have conducted a precise chemical analysis of the clay and found nothing special. The radiometer was also silent, yet the ordinary human hands, and not only mine, would distinctly feel either warmth or cold, or a tingle, or sometimes a thicker, stickier environment. Some people's hands felt heavier, others felt lighter as if pushed up. Some people's fingers and arm muscles got numb, some felt giddy and developed profuse salivation. I could observe a similar phenomenon in a bunch of paper tubes inhabited

by leaf cutting bees. Each tunnel had a solid row of multi-layered "cans" made from torn leaves, covered with concave lids (also made from leaves). These cans contained silk, oval cocoons with larvae and chrysalides. I asked unsuspecting people who knew nothing of my discovery to hold their hands or faces over the leaf cutter nests and have made a detailed record of their replies in this experiment. Its results may be found in my article "On the physical and biological properties of pollinator bee nests" published in the Siberian Bulletin of Agricultural Science, no.3, 1984. The same article contains the formula of my discovery, a brief physical description of this wonderful phenomenon.

I have created a few dozen artificial honeycombs from plastic, paper, metal and wood, based on the structures of bee nests. It turned out that the cause of all those unusual sensations was not a biological field, but the size, shape, quantity and arrangement of cavities formed by and in any solid object. And as before, the organism felt it, while the instruments remained silent. I called the discovery the Cavity Structures Effect (CSE) and I have carried on with my experiments. Nature has continued to reveal to me its innermost secrets one after another. It has turned out that the CSE zone inhibits the growth of saprophytic soil bacteria, inhibits the growth of yeast and other similar cultures as well as it inhibits wheat grain germination. The behavior of microscopic agile chlamydospores also

changes in this effective zone. Leaf cutting bee larvae begin to phosphoresce, while adult bees are much more active in this field and finish pollination two weeks earlier than they would otherwise. It has turned out that this CSE, same as gravitation, can't be shielded.

It affects living organisms through walls, thick metal and any other screens. It has turned out that if a porous object were moved, a person would not feel the change in CSE location immediately but, a few seconds or minutes later. While the old location would retain a "trace", or as I called it a "phantom" of the CSE field perceivable by the hand for hours and sometimes for months thereafter. It has turned out that the CSE field did not decrease evenly with distance but, surrounded the honeycomb with a system of invisible, yet sometimes clearly perceivable "shells". It has turned out that animals (white mice) and humans entering the zone of the CSE field (even a very strong one) would soon adapt to it. It couldn't be otherwise. We are surrounded everywhere by cavities, large and small, surrounded by grids and cells of living and dead plants (as well as our own cells). We are surrounded by bubbles of foam rubber, foam plastic, foam concrete, rooms, corridors, halls, roofing, spaces between machine parts, trees, furniture and buildings. It has turned out that the CSE "ray" had a stronger impact on living organisms when it was directed away from the sun and also downwards, facing the Earth center.

It has turned out that clocks, both mechanical and electronic, run inaccurately when placed in a strong CSE field. The CSE seems to have an effect on time too. All this is a manifestation of the will of the matter, constantly moving and transforming and existing eternally. It has turned out that the French physicist Louis des Broglies [?] was awarded the Nobel Prize for his discovery of these waves back in the 20s and that the latter were used in electronic microscopes. My research has gone well. Many other things transpired from my experiments and study, but they would lead us into solid-state physics, quantum mechanics, elementary particle physics and generally very far away from the main characters of our narrative, the insects.

I have managed to devise instruments for an objective registration of the CSE, which react accurately to the proximity of insect nests during all this time. Here they are in the drawings. They are the sealed vessels with straws and burnt twigs and drawing charcoals suspended on spider web threads in them, with some water on the bottom countering the effects of static electricity, which hinders such experiments in dry air. If you point an old wasp nest, a bee honeycomb or a bunch of cereal ears at the upper end of the indicator, it turns slowly a few dozen degrees around. This is no miracle. The energy of scintillating electrons of both multi-cavity bodies creates a total wave system in space, whereby this wave is energy capable of causing the mutual repulsion of these objects even through such obstacles as a the thick walled steel capsule in the photo. It is hard to imagine that the armor of this capsule isn't capable to stop waves from a tiny, light wasp nest seen in the picture and that the indicator inside this heavy, solid capsule turns away from this long vacant nest, sometimes as much as 180 degrees. Yet it is so. Those who have doubts are welcome to visit the Agroecology Museum near Novosibirsk and see it all for themselves.

The same museum displays an always active honeycomb painkiller. It consists of a chair with an overhead cap, which contains a few empty but, intact honeybee combs ("dry" honeycombs, in the beekeeper's vocabulary). Anyone who sits in this chair will almost certainly feel something (please write to me what exactly you feel, I'll be grateful) after a few minutes, while those with a headache will say good bye to the pain shortly, at least for a few hours. My painkillers are successfully used in many parts of the country now, because I have made no secret from my discovery.

Your hand will clearly sense the CSE emanation, if you place it from below and palm up against the cap with bee honeycombs. The cap could be made from cardboard or veneer, or better still from tin plate with tightly sealed seams. This is painkiller is yet another gift from the world of insects. My reasoning behind this invention was that people have been dealing with the honeybees for thousands of years and no one has ever complained about anything unpleasant related to them except, of course, for their stings. I've tried to hold a dry honeycomb over my head and it worked! I have decided to use a set of six frames. This is the story of my rather simple discovery.

An old wasp nest works quite differently, even though the size and shape of its cells is very close to those of the honey bees. The important difference between the two is that the wasp honeycomb material, unlike that of honey bee wax, is more crumbly and micro porous. It is paper like. (By the way, it's wasps, who invented paper, rather than people. Wasps scrape old wood fiber, mix it with their sticky saliva and let it dry out.) Walls of the wasp honeycomb are much thinner than those of bees and their cell size and pattern is also different. The nest itself is like a multi-layered, loosely wrapped paper outer shell. I've had reports of highly unpleasant effects of a few wasp nests in an attic. Besides that, most multiple cell devices and objects with a manifested CSE field have a far from beneficial effect on humans in the first few minutes. Honey bee combs are a rare exception. I have often observed the bumblebees living in our Isilkul flat in the 1960s. A young bumble bee did not take the trouble to remember the entrance to the hive and it would spend hours wandering around the windows of our house and of a similar looking house nearby on its first trip out of the hive. It would give up on its poor visual memory in the evening and it would land on the brick wall precisely outside the hive and it would try to break right through the wall. Now, how did the insect know that its home nest was right there, four meters away from the entrance to the attic and a meter and a half below, behind the thick, half meter wall? I was lost at the time in conjectures but now I know exactly why the bumble bee behaved in that manner. It is an amazing find, wouldn't you agree? Now let us remember the experiment in which hunter wasps returned not only to a given location but, even to an entirely different location to where the lump of soil with their nest had been moved. I do not doubt that they were able to find it because of the wave emitter created by their nest cavities.

There was yet another mystery to be revealed to me by my insect friends. It has turned out that flowers also use similar powerful and unstoppable wave emitter besides their color, odor and nectar in order to attract their pollinators. I have discovered it with a drawing charcoal, a burnt twig by passing it over large, bell shaped flowers (tulips, lilies, amaryllises, mallows or pumpkins). I could feel "braking" of this detector already at quite a distance from the flower. I have learned to find a flower in a dark room standing one or two meters away from it with this detector but, only if it had not been moved. If it were moved, i would detect a "false target", the "ghost" field left in its old location, the residual "phantom" I have already mentioned. I do not possess any super sensory abilities, and any person would be able to do the same after some training. One could use a 10 cm long piece of a yellow sorghum stem instead of a charcoal rod, or a short pencil whose rear end should be facing the flower. Some people would be able to feel the flower (a "warm", "cold", or "shivering" sensation emanating from it) with their bare hands, tongues, or even faces. As many experiments demonstrated, children and adolescents are particularly sensitive to these waves of matter.

When it comes to the bees, which nest underground, their "knowledge" of the CSE is vital to them. First of all, it enables the builder of a new gallery to stay away from the neighboring nests. Otherwise, the entire bee city all cut through with intersecting holes would simply collapse. Secondly, plant roots cannot be allowed to grow down into the galleries and honeycombs and indeed the roots stop growing any further a few centimeters away from the honeycomb of tunnels and chambers and start growing aside, feeling that nests are near.

I have confirmed the latter conclusion by my many experiments on couching wheat seeds in a strong CSE field, as compared to the seeds germinating in the same climatic conditions but in the absence of the CSE field. Photographs and drawings show both, the dying of roots in the experimental batch as well as their sharp deviation in a direction away from my artificial honeycomb. Therefore, the bees and the weeds back at the lake had made a pact long ago and they are another example of the highest ecological expediency of all being. Yet, we see another example of people's merciless, ignorant and arrogant attitude toward the nature in the very same location on this globe. The bee city is gone now. Thick streams of fertile black soil run off down the ruts in the former river bank cliff every spring. They run among filthy heaps of trash to the lifeless, salty puddles left behind by once a living river, which not too long ago was at least a string of lakes, with its countless flocks of sandpipers and ducks, white swans, and hovering fish hawks. Gone is the cliff, thinned out by bee holes, where one used to hear the hum of hundreds of thousands of bees, which had led me for the first time into the land of unknown. I must have tired the reader out with all these honeycombs of mine. A separate thick book would be required to describe all my experiments with them. I will only mention one more thing. My battery powered pocket calculator often malfunctioned in the CSE field. It either erred, or sometimes its display window failed to light up for hours. I used the field of a wasp nest combined with that of my two palms. None of these structures had any effect on their own.

I will also note that human hands, with all their tubular phalanxes, joints, ligaments, blood vessels, and nails are intensive CSE emanators capable of giving a powerful push to the straw or the charcoal rod indicator of my little instruments from a couple of meters distance. Practically anyone can do it. This is why I am convinced that there are no people with supersensory abilities, or rather that all the people have them and that the number of those, who can move light-weight objects across on a table from a distance, or hold them suspended in the air or "magnetically" attached to the hand, is far greater than is usually thought. Try it yourself! I look forward to your letters. Folks in old times used to play the following game: One man sits down onto a chair and four of his friends "build" a grid of horizontally stretched palms with slightly spread fingers over his head. First from their right hands, then from their left hands, spaced at about 2 cm. They hold the hand grid for about 10-15 seconds. Then all four of them place simultaneously their pressed-together index and middle fingers under the armpits and under the knees of the sitting man, and toss him energetically up in the air. The time lapse between "collapsing" the hand grid and tossing of the man must not exceed two seconds and the synchronicity of the action is very important. If everything is done right, a 100-kilo man flies up almost to the ceiling, while the ones who tossed him claim he was light as a feather. A sceptic reader may ask me: "How is this possible?" Doesn't it all contradict laws of nature? And if so, am I not propagating mysticism? Nothing of the sort! There is no mysticism. We humans still know little of the Universe which, as we see it, not always accepts our all too human rules, assumptions and orders and laws. It dawned on me once that the results of my experiments with insect nests bear way too much similarity to the reports of people who happened to be in the vicinity of UFOs. Think about it and compare the observations of the same phenomena in both cases. Temporary malfunctioning of electronic devices, disrupted clocks-time, an invisible, resilient obstacle to movement, a temporary drop in the weight of objects, the sensation of a decrease in human weight, phosphenes moving, colored flashes in the eyes, galvanic taste in the mouth. I am sure you have read about all this in UFO journals. I am now telling you that it can all be experienced in our museum. Come and visit us! Was I standing on the threshold of yet another mystery? Quite so. And I was helped again by a chance, or better said by my old insect friends. And there came sleepless nights and failures accompanied by doubts and breakdowns, even accidents and no one to turn to for an advice. Everyone would have just laughed, or much worse...

But I can say this, my reader: "He is happy who has a more or less adequate use of his eyes, head, and hands." Skillful hands are particularly important and trust me that the joy of creative work, even of work that ends in failure, is far higher and brighter than earning any diplomas, medals, or patents.

Flying an Anti-gravitational Platform (excerpts from my diary)

Judge for yourself based on my diary excerpts, obviously simplified and adapted for this book. Pictures and drawings will help you to evaluate my story. It is a hot summer day and the faraway expanses are drowned in a bluish-lilac haze. The gigantic blue dome of the sky with its pufs of clouds stretches over the fields and groves. I am flying about 300 meters above ground with a light elongated tray of a lake in the distant haze serving me as me as a reference point. Blue, intricate contours of treelines slowly recede behind, with fields spreading among them. That bluish-green one is an oat field, the whitish rectangle with a strange, rhythmic twinkling of the sun reflection is that of buckwheat. Straight ahead of me opens a field of alfalfa, with its familiar cobalt medium-green stolen from my oil paintings, while the green oceans of wheat to the right borrowed my deeper, chrome oxide shade. This enormous, multi-colored palette floats further and further behind me. Footpaths meander among the fields and coppices. They join the gravel roads, which it turn stretch further out to join the highway, still hidden in the haze. But, I know that if I flew on the right side of the lake, I would see it, the smooth, gray ribbon without a beginning or an end carrying the matchboxes of cars slowly crawling over its back to their destinies. Isometric, flat shadows of the cumulus clouds ride over the sunny countryside. They are deep-blue where they cover the threes and are of various shades of light blue where they strike the fields. Now I have entered the shadow of one such cloud and I accelerate. It is quite easy for me to do so and leave for the sunshine again. I lean slightly forward and feel the warm, taut wind coming for down below, from the sun drenched soil and vegetation. It does not blow from the side like when you are on the ground, but strangely from the surface up. I physically feel its thick, dense current carrying the strong smell of blooming buckwheat. Of course, this jet can easily lift even a large bird, an eagle may be, or a stork, or a crane, on their frozen, spread wings.

But I have no wings. I stand suspended in the air supported in my flight by a little flat, rectangular platform, which is slightly bigger than the seat of a chair. It has a pole with two handles onto which I hold and with whose help I navigate this device. Is this some science fiction? I wouldn't say so. The interrupted manuscript of this book had lied abandoned for two whole years because our generous, ancient nature had given me another something and again through my insect friends. As usual, it did it elegantly and inconspicuously, yet swiftly and convincingly. The thrill of discovery would not let go of me for two years, even though it seemed to me that I was mastering it at a break-neck speed. But it always happens this way. When your work is new and interesting, the time flies by at double its normal speed. The eye of the lake is already much closer. I can clearly see the highway beyond by now and the match boxes have grown wheels on them. The highway is about 8km away from the railway running parallel to it and if I look closer, I can see the power line poles on the light gray moat of the railway. It is time to turn some 20 degrees to the left. I can't be seen from the ground and not just because of the distance. I cast almost no shadow even in a very low flight. Yet, as I found out later, people sometimes see something where I am in the sky. I appear to them either as a light sphere, a disk, or something like a slanted cloud with sharp edges, which moves strangly according to them, not exactly the way a real cloud would. One person has observed a "flat, non-transparent square, about one hectare in size". Could it have been the optically enlarged little platform of my device? Most people see nothing at all though and I am quite pleased with it for the time being. I can't be too careful! Besides, I still haven't determined what my visibility or invisibility depended on. I must confess that I consciously avoid people when in flight and that I, for this very purpose, bypass all cities and towns and try to pass even the cross roads and footpaths at increased speed after making sure there is no one there.

I trust only my insect friends depicted in these pages on these excursions, which no doubt are a fiction to the reader but, which are already almost casual to me . The first practical use of my discovery has been entomological research. A way to get to and examine my secret places, to take a picture of them from above and to find new, still uninspected insect lands in need of protection and salvation. Alas, nature has established its own strict limitations on my work. Just as on a passenger plane, I could see but couldn't take photographs [taking pictures on planes was forbidden by law]. My camera shutter wouldn't close and both rolls of film I had with me, one in the camera and the other in my pocket, got light-struck. I didn't succeed in sketching the landscape either, because both my hands were almost always busy. I could only free one hand for a couple of seconds. Thus I could only draw from my memory. I managed to do that only immediately after landing. Though I am an artist, my visual memory is not all that great. I did not feel the same way in my flight as we do when we fly in our sleep. It was with flying in my sleep that I started this book a while ago. Real flying is not so much pleasure as it is work, sometimes very hard and dangerous at that. One has to stand, not hover, with both hands always busy. There is a borderline a few centimeters away separating "this" space from "that" on the outside. The border is invisible but quite treacherous. My contraption is still rather clumsy and resembles perhaps a hospital scale. But this is only the beginning! By the way, besides the camera, I have experiernced sometimes trouble with my watch and possibly also with the calendar. While descending onto a familiar glade, I would occasionally find it slightly "out of season", with about a two-week deviation but, I had nothing to check it against. Thus, it may be possible to fly not just in space but also, or so it seems, in time. I cannot make the latter claim with a 100% guarantee, except perhaps that in flight, particularly at its beginning, a watch runs eratically, now too slow and then too fast. But, the watch is at its accurate time and speed at the end of the excursions.
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