Chapter 1. Obsession
Early in the morning, on August 21, 1987, two men entered the office of the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev, quietly opening the tall and seemingly heavy oak doors. The general secretary of the CPSU, was completely immersed in the study of some documents and gestured without looking at the early visitors (strange, why without a report…?!) he motioned them to the chairs next to his desk. But the customers, not responding to his gesture, remained standing silently at the front door.
It was going to be a tough day. The last days of August were almost all hard and stressful. And the hardest part of them was talking to people, responsible government officials. Even more difficult were the conversations with his close associates, the people on whom the most important thing in the country depended – the course of perestroika and the situation in the country, which continued to deteriorate, despite the fact that his government took more and more steps to reverse the negative trends in the footsteps of the huge country. Perhaps only the international situation of the USSR remained more or less positive. The leaders of the Western world began to trust him more and more, the president of the USSR, and supported his program of reforms: perestroika, glasnost and acceleration. Thank you, Shevardnadze, he turned out to be reliable and calm (surprisingly for a Georgian!) his assistant in these matters. The Central Committee of Ukraine reported on the growing acute and alarming nationalist tendencies among the population of the western regions of Ukraine and asked for advice.
– Can you temporarily curtail glasnost?! They considered her to be responsible for the arousal of the people’s mass (the hromada) and a sharp surge of nationalist and even separatist (independent) sentiments, both in the urban environment and in the rural environment. This was especially noticeable in the western regions of Ukraine, where nationalist, chauvinist and separatist sentiments have always existed. From time to time, they flared up, heated up in the people’s community, giving the central government of Soviet Ukraine a fair headache in trying, if not to overcome in the bud, then at least to extinguish, reduce the acute and disturbing trends of the nationalist, anti-Russian frenzy on the western outskirts of greater Ukraine.
A characteristic feature is that these moods were often initiated by the elites (the creative intelligentsia) both the western regions, and the center, Kiev! The local authorities, as history has shown, have never seriously opposed the “Vilna Ukraine”, the expansion of the Uniate Church, limiting themselves to half measures, because they were afraid of the nationalists, remembering the brutal reprisals of the “forest brothers” with the communists and Ukrainians cooperating with the Soviet government. Only the NKVD troops, and then the KGB, acted harshly. As a rule, they were directed against the outspoken Bandera underground and activists (mostly students) propagandizing the ideas of independence – exit, separation from the USSR and the collapse of the dictate of Moscow, otherwise, “Muscovites”…!
After reading the memo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine, Gorbachev, forgetting about the presence of outsiders in his office, exclaimed. – “Idiots – so they will only strengthen these trends!”. We must respond with our own counter-propaganda. And ask the people, the worker – they want to go back to the 18th year, to Hetman Skoropadsky, Petlyura or God forbid, to Bandera…?! My God, and when it all ends, animal nationalism and national phobia, what do they all share there?! We did not introduce Glasnost in order for the peoples of the USSR to settle their scores with each other as a result of the centuries-old grievances accumulated in the history of these peoples. First of all, it is necessary to make any manifestation of arbitrariness on the part of local authorities, bureaucrats and other opponents of democracy, perestroika and glasnost known to the general public. Only in this way, this bastard can be forced not to bully the people, but to behave more modestly and within the framework of the law. Transparency is necessary so that we all decide together how best to start and deepen the reform of the national economy. Glasnost is the people’s control and a barrier to state and party officials, idlers and demagogues! … Demago … Dema … De… his thought suddenly froze and stopped. His gaze searched for support in thoughts, guesses, and the devil knows what else…and found no answer. His attempts to understand what he sees in front of him are not a mirage caused by constant lack of sleep… but the real reality! A joke of party mates…?! …Doesn’t look like…?! Everyone knew that he was irritated by stupid jokes, and that Mikhail Sergeyevich cut off all the dirty jokes about women or “Jews” at the beginning. Five paces away, two men were standing. One of them was dressed in a marshal’s uniform, with two large stars on his gold shoulder straps. No, these are not the marshal’s shoulder straps, he himself recently handed them to this, what’s his name…?! Then whose…?! Really the most…?! The marshal-non-marshal, meanwhile, calmly and slowly took out a pipe from his jacket… Stalin…?! It dawned on the General secretary of the 1985 spill. And he has the shoulder straps of a generalissimo! The last shoulder straps of the empire of the first and last Generalissimo of the USSR. Yes, this is him, … at least, a very similar person known to him from the chronicles and feature films. So! – he thought angrily-so this is, after all, someone’s stupid inappropriate joke. Who let this masquerader into his office without a report, and his permission…?! He resolutely reached for the bell button, changed his mind, and reached for one of the phones. At this time, someone else’s face peeked out from behind the shoulder of the masked Stalin, immediately resembling a ghoul and a bloated jellyfish in one combination. Medusa, flashing piggy eyes from under her spectacles and old-fashioned pince-nez, shook her head in the negative, and for emphasis took her hand out from under her gray double-breasted suit, shaking her little finger. No-no, they say, do not, do not joke, man! His hypnotic gaze and manner had an effect on the general Secretary, and he slowly took his hand away from the phone, even more perplexed. It was the first time he’d seen the other man’s face, but it sure as hell reminded him of someone. The figure of Stalin, dressed in a formal white suit, meanwhile lit a pipe, flared a thin stream of fragrant smoke to the patterned ceiling, and deciding that the moment had come and he was not a static figure, but a person, finally drew attention to him, Gorbachev, in Russian, but with a characteristic accent. “Hello, comrade General Secretary. It seems that Gorbachev is er… er … er…?! Medusa suggested-Mikhail Sergeyevich. “Yes, yes, Mikhail Sergeyevich! Hello, colleague, if I may call myself that. General Secretary of the Central Committee of the CPSU (b) Stalin Joseph Vissarionovich.
After a pause, and seeing that his companion was stunned into silence, he continued. “The special conductor of our special car told me about you. On the whole, he spoke positively of you. I just scolded some of your anti-drunkenness programs. Have you really introduced a prohibition law in the country?! In vain! We’re through this … colleague. The guest paused and continued – I will call you that, sometimes, Mikhail … er, Sergeevich. You are the current general Secretary of the Communist Party, and as you know, I started out under the Bolshevik-Communist-Leninist party. So, my colleague, we also went through this and did not win, but only lost. Drunkenness simply went underground, people began to make moonshine, poison themselves, the devil knows what …! I remember seeing it myself when I was in exile, in the Turukhansk region. Two of our comrades were never able to pump out… they mixed the cologne with some liquid for the separator. It was a bitter winter, I wanted to warm up and soothe my heartache. Both of them received bad news from their families at home. Well, and in the same place, we in this village on the slope and pa-ha-dropped them…! But they showed great promise in the revolutionary movement. Both of them personally knew Kropotkin, Bakunin, and our Ilyich from emigration, of course. One who is a Socialist-Revolutionary or a Menshevik…or maybe still a Socialist-Revolutionary … corresponded with Engels. Stalin suddenly fell silent again, then angrily began to shake his head from side to side. From the outside, it was strange and unusual to look at such a Stalin. – If it really was Stalin, and not an actor from some Moscow academic theater?! Maybe even deserved, because how the rascal plays, how he got used to the image, the scoundrel.! Gorbachev thought. Meanwhile, the masked Comrade Stalin finished shaking his head and then, like a physical education student, sat down, stood up, sat down, stood up. Then he shook his torso from side to side. He froze like a post, clearly listening to his condition. He looked around like a somnambulist and, as if fixing the location of Gorbachev in his visual memory, resolutely walked towards him. In the eyes of the real or mummified Joseph Vissarionovich, there was a fog, the pupils were not visible, like a dead man, whose heart was gouged out by crows in the field with their beaks. Gorbachev, it became creepy…! The dead man shook his head again. The fog in his eyes cleared, and a very, very Stalinist smile appeared in his eyes, by the way. Gorbachev clearly remembered it now from an episode in the chronicle. Grinning into his moustache, Stalin-not-Stalin said softly, as if explaining himself, to Gorbachev. – I, a colleague, was lying in a coffin, that is, in a piece of glass…! Yes, yes, I did!… By the way, it will be necessary to look at your graveyard in the Mausoleum! Haha…! Sabya, a native little man to visit, to please, so to speak, ha-ha-ha, the great-a-duty of the family, or what!? Well, and I will certainly bow to old Ilyich … our founder, the great proletarian leader, the founder of our Savet state! Yes, Comrade Gorbachev…?! Sit down, sit down, comrade Gorbachev. Don’t get up… We buried the founder back in the 24th. I, Stalin, headed the funeral commission. I remember the bitter cold stood, br-r-r. Yes-ah-ah! And the cunning bitch Trotsky in the Crimea decided to sit out this mayoralty, on the beach with devushkami … the mayor-for-vets! But we also harassed him in the Kramlev ste…Medusa whispered something in Stalin’s ear. – Yes-a-a…?! Here Lavrenty tells me that we, unfortunately, haranili our People’s Commissar for military and naval affairs, the Mexican comrades held a mayor’s event…But we were standing in staron ne … yes, Lavrenty…?! The Madusa named Lawrence Patch shook her head sadly. Gorbachev belatedly realized that this was Beria Lavrentiy Pavlovich. The spitting image of Beria! I’m overworked.… On TV every day they show a chronicle, not one revealing program of those times without his ryakha is not complete. Hangman Beria! A loyal henchman of the bloody tyrant Stalin! And here I am … in front of them…! Gorbachev made a determined attempt to stand up. Showing remarkable skill, Beria’s figure darted to Gorbachev and gently, but insistently, sat him back in his chair. Then, Beria deftly pushed Gorbachev’s red phone away from him to the far corner of the desk. Without turning around, he took two steps and motioned for Gorbachev to calm down. It’s all right, it’s all right … genatsvale. “I read your mind, you bastard!” thought Gorbachev dejectedly. Meanwhile, Stalin is not noticing (or pretending…?!) a sharp maneuver of Beria, walking around the office and talking about something.
“……probably while we have been lying side by side for so many years, we are tired of each other to death! From both so, the smell of formalin naset at night, so naset …save no! And even the attendants, some holes for airing the glass dome open. And then, so naset, so naset … it’s better to smell the living bzdon. Stalin laughed again, briefly but soundlessly, then stopped laughing and suddenly became serious, his eyes hard as steel and prickly as an American Landslide thorn.
Chapter 2 .Stalin
(Fragments of the portrait)
It was with such eyes that he often looked at his visitors, people’s commissars, marshals, and sometimes at foreign leaders whom he met as the leader of his country. No, of course, he welcomed everyone cordially – this is the etiquette and the main protocol of diplomacy. If you do not love this person, but you have to meet him for the good of the people, the country-then be completely kind to him. Don’t show him that you don’t like him, that you hate him. Win him over, and then when he leaves for his homeland – do with him what you want, according to the circumstances of his further relationship to the USSR. This is the art of diplomacy. Fig, only in the inner pocket. After all, you are powerless to do anything with him while he is visiting you and the whole country, the whole world knows about it. Stalin was also a true son of the Georgian people, and the Caucasians with their mother’s milk absorb the significance of the concept of Guest, which is almost sacred for southern or mountain peoples. Another thing is that he could initially disrespect his guest, and because he sometimes knew about him that the guest himself only guessed about it, and because he later saw this person with his own eyes and heard with his own ears. Stalin considered himself an excellent physiognomist and psychologist. Yes! The experience of first a militant, then a party functionary, an organizer gave him a reason to think so about himself. And experience, as they say, you can not drink…!
This one, handsome and selfish – is clearly a narcissist. Look at you, as nabriolinilsya. This one is fat as a hog, and not from foodie food, but from elementary and vulgar gluttony. This young and strong man is not at all alien to physical exercise, and maybe intensive work, of course, for his own pleasure, judging by his origin and condition. Such, in general, there is something to respect, they achieve a lot in their lives! They are usually respected by ordinary people and the rich and influential. But this young man, an influential political figure of his country and one of the richest people on the European continent, he despised and was not afraid even on a physical level, although the guest surpassed him in height by two or three heads. In a fight, in his youth, he would probably have beaten him, if not with dexterity, then with cunning. And he didn’t despise him because he was a commonplace young man, despite the rumor of his philandering – pedaras. No, not for that… In his turbulent life, both in prison and in exile, he had to meet such a human specimen. Some, outside of their sexual preferences, even had something to respect. Stalin vaguely guessed that it was not man himself who nurtured and encouraged this vice…here Mother nature clearly screwed up…! Here-here, some embarrassment with the order of the genes happened and the lust for one’s own kind came out in the first place through (ugh) a shameful place for a man, and not a woman! He despised it, and not for the fact that the country of this bully brought enough troubles and suffering to his country in history. In the year of severe trials – the war with Hitler-we did not have to choose our guests…! This most influential person in Europe was, despite his brilliant European education, a stupid and self-satisfied man. Besides, he was a miser and a cheapskate, a shoddy friend and comrade, as his school and student comrades knew very well. There wasn’t much about it in his file. Stalin himself guessed this, felt it-a shoddy little man, despite his gloss, external attractiveness and wealth. And, despite his fame – he will not be Prime Minister. No, not to be! And many, not only Stalin, but his fellow citizens, this young man, will inevitably feel rotten in this polished aristocrat with the figure of an Atlantean and friendly manners. However, all these are emotions. But, Stalin, proceeding, including from such a scenario, already knew in advance the strategy of the conversation. I accept him according to protocol as a sign of respect for the aristocratic family, I will ask for a minimum, and I politely nod my head at his fanfaron promises that his country will give both this and that and more. Liar-su-u-ka! I would at least give you what I ask, and that’s fine. Maybe we should treat him to Usekhalauri, Kindzmarauli…?! No, I will not treat him, it is disgusting to the liver to communicate with such an audience, and even to drink with him the sacred wine of his homeland for him, Stalin! … Well, to hell with it! I’ll give you a gift for the road… Tsinandali … in gold tinsel packaging! I respect the aristocracy of Europe!
However, for one foreigner, he still made an exception. The truth is, he sat down in his youth in a wheelchair… And in his old age, he was usually covered up to the waist with a woolen blanket – such, as they say, and it is not a sin to regret, poor. But he did not feel sorry for this man. For what can you feel sorry for an immobilized cripple, if he was in such a position perfectly swam in the ocean, near which he lived. By the way, he himself, the best friend of the athletes of the country of the Soviets, was indifferent to sports. To each his own! As the first person of the state, he personally did a lot to ensure that a young, fervent and athletic generation of Soviet people grew up in the country. Capable, as they say, of both labor and defense! And to be honest, to combine active sports and those bad habits that for many years have become his second nature was strained and … perhaps harmful to his image. He and Kalinin compete in small towns in public…?! And he takes the bat in front of other people with a silver-fingered hand. Rave! To each his own. Your own!
He had great respect for this man, this foreigner. As very few in their lives, they could be counted on the fingers of one hand…. This man made himself. Just like him, Stalin! This man, despite his intelligent face and manners, had an iron character, determination and wisdom of a leader who knows how to achieve his far from simple, but on the scale of his large country, truly global goals. Stalin believed that his main advantage lies precisely in this-the ability to achieve the goal and task set before him at all costs. And starting, perhaps, from the age of 22, to achieve the goals of its huge country occupying 1 \ 6 part of the earth’s land. So, his goals were no less large-scale and global than this person’s. And the terms in which his country, under his hand and eye, fulfilled them were not just impressive, but also not real, pure fantasy in the opinion of the same foreign experts. And finally, this man in a wheelchair had an iron and inflexible will – almost the same as he had Stalin, and maybe even more, judging by the highest results that his country achieved in a short historical time.
Chapter 3 Gorbachev’s Cabinet
A moment later, his eyes regained their former look, and he softly explained to Gorbachev. The doctors and my geneticists explained to me, as best they could, a layman in these matters, that at first I would have some residual phenomena, not only due to my advanced age. But also the state of my mortal body, which was caused by the impact of this damned, stinking formalin on the fabric. They took a long time, five years, to decide which cell to extract from my stinking body in order to successfully clone. I would have that bitch, Zbarsky…! And in general! Stalin became irritated again. – Damn them, zlochintsev, shob their troshki troplyly! Already, if you clone, so be kind to the end one – on-one and qualitatively … shoemakers! At this word, he suddenly thought again, but waved it away and said. – The most offensive memory has become ne such as prazhde! This is not just offensive in a human way. Well, thank you, friends, ogi-vili. All on the Order of Lenin and other material and spiritual indulgences. But it still smells like sabotage. I do not need my memory at all to remember what I was in my youth a brave man and a hero-fighter, a soldier of the revolution, moreover, in the female part I am very, very evil … I need my memory for a big one! I am still able to help my country, for which there is so much sde-e-lal-isn’t that right, colleague?! Or do you have a different opinion…, dear…?! At the same time, Stalin’s eyes flashed, and he looked straight into Gorbachev’s eyes. The look is not kind, intimidating. Gorbachev shuddered inwardly. But after a pause that seemed endless, Stalin suddenly changed abruptly and said in a friendly but firm voice:: -I hope for your all-mayor help, Comrade Ga-arba-chev, the general secretary of the CPSU (b) … uh, uh, uh ( the CPSU-a jellyfish blurted out from under the torso of the former General Secretary of the CPSU (b)!). Stalin stared at the medusa in disbelief. “Ess…?!” – These SSS are our … Soviet ones. The Communist Party of the Soviet Union, abbreviated CPSU – explained medusa. “My boss, uh, Iosif Vissarionovich. In the 52nd, at the 19th Congress, a new name was adopted instead of your, uh, our CPSU(b). – Yes, Lavrenty…?! For-was…, for-was…!!! Well, su-u-u-ka, Zbarsky!
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Stalin, like Beria, also began to examine the technical devices and objects on Gorbachev’s desk, vaguely guessing their purpose. However, most of the objects were familiar to him, and even the study-he recognized the stucco, but he could not remember who it belonged to, although he painfully tried to do so.
Stalin was suddenly startled by something, his moustache bristled, and his face was bloodshot. Those who knew Stalin intimately during his ascent and reign on the Olympus of power of a huge country-knew! For him, Stalin, there was no more painful problem when he could not even mentally control what was happening around him, whether it was relations with people around him and people who had any relation to him in the past or present, even if it was completely remote from him physically. For example, this was the case with Trotsky or General Miller. General Kutepov, the latter were two key figures of the white emigration. Stalin, kept in the field of his inner vision, memory – figures like these generals, because he knew how dangerous these people are, even at a distance from Russia. With Trotsky it is clear! I will take vengeance on you! Trotsky had drunk enough of his, Stalin’s, blood. He knew perfectly well that Lenin had an extraordinary appreciation and respect for this puny, goatee-bearded Jew, and even sometimes recognized him as almost his equal. To Stalin, however, he only referred to the phrase “This wonderful Georgian” in history, and that was it! Well, except for his “Letter to the Congress”, later called “Lenin’s will”. It spoke of the inadmissibility of his, Stalin’s, stay in the high post of General Secretary of the party in view of his, Stalin’s, rudeness and intolerance to any criticism. Stalin then resigned for the first time and suffered a lot of fears… However, he was flattered by the phrase from Lenin’s letter to the congress about the recognition of his Stalin as a leader!. More precisely about the squabble of two outstanding leaders Trotsky and Stalin… But already in the 24th year after the death of the old man, it became finally clear to Stalin… two bears in one den…!?
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If they were enemies, then, of course, what Comrade Stalin wanted to know was done by the state security agencies, by the investigative specialists, by the work that was then often done by mechanical devices, lie detectors, truth polygraphs, instead of people. But living people then, before and after the revolution, and then 50 years later, and even 100 years later, could not be replaced by more than one ingenious mechanical device.
Chapter 3. Beria.
Fragments of the portrait
A mechanical or electronic device could not, like Beria, look into a person’s eyes without taking his eyes off, inevitably and mercilessly penetrating into his very interior. Silently and for a long, infinitely long time, as if pointing out to him – behind him, Beria – eternity… and behind this man a painful and shameful non-existence, death. Of course, such strong-willed people as Beria (and Stalin…!) they possessed the art of suggestion both naturally and developed in the long history of their survival and career. The interviews-interrogations were not long, even short. It was enough for Beria to sow fear, doubt and confidence in the hopelessness of the future fate of the person with whom he was talking. Of course, this” conversation ” was preceded by the rough work of his, Beria, subordinates. The task was to physically and mentally suppress and exhaust the defendant. After a sinister, soul-searching look, he abruptly changed tactics. He spoke intelligently, in a fatherly way, encouraging words. Like, not everything is so scary and without a source – you can always find a way out of a difficult situation. You just have to repent to the party. As long as we, the vanguard of the Chekist party, do not know the full and true truth, the danger will continue to threaten all Soviet people, the state, and the people’s power….! “You realize the price of your silence, my dear…?!” Further, if he, Beria, as an experienced psychologist, did not feel changes in the person under investigation, he could say to him quietly, with a cheerful note, ominous, unbearable words for this person, which concerned the loved ones of this person.
Neither physical pain and suffering, nor sophisticated torture by sleep deprivation, nor threats against the defendant, his friends, colleagues, people little known, strangers, but involved in some Jesuitical way by the chekists in the circle of investigation of his case, nor even threats against people close to him, relatives – could not move a strong – willed person who values his honor to mention someone and expose them to the danger of persecution or even worse-the fate that befell him in these casemates. The incrimination of other people allegedly involved in his alleged crimes would mean a moral sentence passed on himself, indelible shame and contempt for everyone and everything in the possible future (?)…! But when the traditional threats of the investigators : “Think of your friends, finally, your relatives and friends, whom you endanger by your persistent silence …!” – were of a general, abstract nature – the strong man only turned pale, but continued to stubbornly refuse to mention anyone. The break, the collapse of the human will, occurred when an abstract threat acquired concrete, almost everyday features … Here a person broke down before his eyes! Words that meant little to others acquired for this particular person a murderous, fatal reality, imagining which he experienced an irresistible pain immeasurably stronger than the physical pain of torture! The poison of these words penetrated into the brain, not into the flesh, in which even reaching the apogee of physical suffering and pain, then still weakened and subsided. Inflamed by the terrifying news, the brain was rapidly destroying all the strong-willed beginnings of a person, all the vital reserve of his strength and fortitude, appealing to only one thing. Yield to the tormentors …! To commit the previously Impossible for this person-To Betray-To Stipulate – To Perjure! Anything that could help extract these words from the brain, throw them into unreality, distance the striking force of the uttered threats from the people close to him…!
Not many of the NKVD investigators had the intelligence to choose and the skill to present ominous and fatal words for the person under investigation. Their chief inquisitor had both a high intellect and a high skill in finding exactly the words that would break the will of the person under investigation. He knew that a man with a strong will, not broken by the interrogations of successive interrogators, who did not allow him to sleep for at least a minute for three days, who beat him to death, but who stubbornly refused to voluntarily confess to the crime committed and further name his accomplices, should be approached differently, creatively, inventively.
The head of the NKVD, Lavrenti Pavlovich Beria, encouraged and charged physical violence to all those under investigation. Even to those who, without any threats, poured out a nightingale, perfectly delighting the investigators. The installation was to intimidate any person who came to them, so that in the future it would be possible to easily get exactly the testimony that fit into the lyko of a particular case opened by their office, or in reserve for future cases.. Beatings of persons under investigation were routine and included in the range of necessary professional qualities for working in the security agencies. Specifics!. Nothing personal… Only work! It is no secret that many NKVD investigators abused alcoholic beverages. The use of violence against people for whom there was no personal motive required intense psychological efforts, breaking the nature and foundations of education. The exception and not a small one were, as a rule, thin, puny types of people, for whom undisguised pleasure gives the pain of another person much stronger, either physically or morally. These are maniacs. They themselves, with the help of improvised means, torture and mock their victim. Or they persuade others to do it. For example, “dubolomov”. These were impressive-sized human specimens, in the eyes of which the eternal perplexity froze why they had evolved from apes to humans. After all, it was already possible… At the command of the investigators, they deftly worked with impressive fists, and when they were tired, they used their feet. In the farm of Beria, the General Commissioner of state Security, there were many such workers and Beria actively used their “organic talents”.
But Beria himself ignored this duty. He did not poke his little fist into the prisoner’s mouth, or rather into the bloody fragments that had recently been replaced by white, healthy teeth. No, he himself did not tolerate physical pain, and as often happens with the intelligent type of people, he could not move himself to physical violence in relation to other living people. since at the same time, a normal person without consciously psychologically could relate this to his personality, imagining possible violence against him under other life circumstances. In the art of interrogation, it was more valuable and irresistible to find a vulnerable place not in the physical shell, but in the mental, moral folds.
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