The telephone call persistently broke into the sweet morning sleep. Turning either into a police siren or into some kind of intricate annoying music. He filled the entire bedroom with an annoying uninvited guest, where two beautiful naked figures scattered in their sleep on a huge bed after stormy love pleasures. He and she. Without opening her eyes, the woman said pleadingly:

- Darling, finally take this damn phone. Or better yet, throw it out the window.

“Yes, yes...” the man responded sleepily and, leaning back, with difficulty, sleepily, he fumbled for the telephone receiver in the semi-darkness.

Looking at the ceiling, he listened to the haunting voice coming from the other end of the line, then slowly got up, put on a quilted robe and, slipping his feet into slippers as he walked, left the bedroom, taking the phone with him.

The woman heard in her sleep how from the large living room he answered the stranger in a dissatisfied voice:

- Yes, I’m listening to you. Just don't delay. No need to jerk off for hours.

– Is it really that important, bro? You're completely swollen! I told you - on Thursday, right after the New Year. Or did you not understand?

After a pause, he filtered into the phone again:

- Okay, I’ll take your word for it. I give you three more days. And now with the money I have, I’m waiting at my place in forty minutes. You know how to find me. Yes Yes. I'll meet you myself. I sent the guards to sleep. Well, let's make it quick.

The woman, wrapped in a blanket, again began to fall into her dreams, deep and romantic in winter. Already in a dream, she thought with pleasure that tomorrow was the New Year, pleasant New Year's chores, guests...

The man hung up the phone and returned to the bedroom. He stopped in front of the bed and looked at his sleeping friend for a long time. Then he took off his robe and lay down next to him. Lifting the blanket, he looked at the beautiful naked body. He pulled her to him and, pressing her close and hugging her, began to caress her breasts with his hands and touched her stomach. She muttered something gratefully, opened her eyes for a second and, closing them again, said admiringly:

– How I want you!.. But I just can’t wake up.

He smiled and continued to gently caress her body, touching her arms, then her rounded hips.

“It’s still dark, honey.” Let's sleep a little more.

She tried to turn away, but he did not let her in, whispering tenderly:

- My friend, we have half an hour...

- Why - half an hour? I want you for an hour, two, three. “I want it all day, until the New Year,” the woman said capriciously, playing.

“They’ll come to me in half an hour, and then I’ll be at your service again, no one else can accommodate us.”

- No. No guests until evening,” she objected. – You promised that there would be no business today. He promised, tell me, he promised?

- Baby, it’s literally for two minutes. Well, don't be angry and come to me. Where are your pens? You know, I already miss your hands. It's been three whole hours!

Her fingers touched his stomach, then slid down.

- Wow! – She laughed. - And I, stupid, am wasting my time!

– Do you know why I love you? – the man suddenly asked.

- Well? - She didn’t seem to listen, her lips slid over his body, he felt her gentle tongue on his nipple, - Well, come on! For what?

“You are the only woman in the world who always laughs in the morning,” he whispered and added, smiling: “And you have the most varied reasons for this...”

- You’re wrong, dear, I always have one reason for this...

He fell silent because he felt her fingers tightly gripping his member.

Leaning over, he kissed her soft fluffy triangle below her stomach, then spread her legs and began to kiss her hot, wet vagina. She smiled, hugged his head, pressing it between her legs, and, having forgiven everything in advance to this lustful, insatiable man, moaned quietly, biting her lip, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

He, losing patience, jerked her towards him and began to press his stomach and penis against her widely spread thighs, feeling with delight the morning warmth of a strong female body. The woman said something quietly.

- What, buddy, what? – he leaned towards her, kissing her on the lips.

But he continued to torment her, pressing his elastic flesh against her, caressing her body, squeezing her pea-hard nipples with his fingers. She wriggled under his hands, searching for his fingers with her lips. Her arms tightly clasped the man's body, pressing him to her. Having brought her to complete exhaustion, he finally entered her, and the woman’s body arched. Now they moved in a common rhythm, merging into a single whole. The woman's eyes were closed, sweet flour was written on her face. The man looked at her without stopping, noting the slightest shades of pleasure, which reflected his own state as if in a mirror. She either frowned her dark, even eyebrows, as if overcoming some obstacle, or rubbed her cheek on the pillow like a cat, or bit her hand. Overcoming the desire to surrender to the flow of pleasure, the man froze, and then the woman began to move almost furiously, not allowing him to tear himself away from her for a second. He felt how everything inside him was trembling from unbearable tension, and when the woman suddenly stopped, opening her eyes wide, looking at him in amazement and delight, he forgot about all the prohibitions and rushed into the final attack, rushing along with his beloved into the abyss of pleasure. As if in delirium, he heard her screams and, shuddering, fell into the golden darkness...

“Morning love is the sweetest,” the man said dreamily, admiring his wife.

The woman was sitting naked on a low soft stool in front of the mirror, and beads of sweat were still visible on her straight back in the light of a small night light.

“If it weren’t for your urgent matters, this sweetness could have been repeated,” she retorted, coquettishly lifting her heavy head of hair with her hand and intricately tucking it into a knot.

A melodious bell rang out in the hallway. The man stood up and kissed the woman on the neck.

“How great you can do this,” he was surprised once again, referring to her manipulations with her hair.

“I do all this for you,” she answered ambiguously, spreading her legs, understanding perfectly what he meant. - Someone came to us there. Should I get dressed? Or will it do just that?

- You're kidding. Look at me. Otherwise, I’ll really send you in this form to meet the guest. “He put on his robe and, caressing her with his eyes, left the bedroom.

It was still morning gloom in the living room, and he turned on the light. Approaching the front door, the man looked through the peephole and, nodding, opened the door.

- What has this brought you to Moscow, brother? – instead of greeting, he said to the newcomer.

“If you find out, you’ll gasp,” he answered, walking into the apartment.

The owner slammed the door, was the first to enter the living room, illuminated by soft side light, and, heading towards the window, behind which the winter dawn had already begun, paused for a moment near the telephone table to grab cigarettes.

“You know, I’m not kidding about the money.” “Pray to God...” he said without turning around and flicked his lighter, “pray to God that these are really ours, Solntsevo’s, and not the Mentura.” Do you get it?..

He did not see how the guest, standing a few steps away from him, extended his right hand forward, in which there was a pistol with a long silencer, and pulled the trigger.

There was a quiet bang, the lighter fell out of his instantly weakened fingers, and the man, without even having time to turn around, began to fall straight onto the telephone table. The bullet took off half of the skull, spattering blood and brains on the floor, walls, and expensive Persian carpet. The guest disgustedly stepped back half a step, not taking his eyes off the lifelessly face of the body.

A woman who was putting on a blue silk robe in her bedroom heard a crash. Rushing to the door and throwing it open, she saw her husband’s body stretched out on the carpet. The next moment she saw the back of his head, torn apart by the shot, then the muzzle of a pistol pointed at her with a black hole from which her own death flew out.

Kirill Podrabinek (born 1952), a participant in the human rights movement, was arrested on December 29, 1977 on charges of illegal possession of firearms. K. Podrabinek was sentenced to 2.5 years in prison. The difficult fate of the camp brought K. Podrabinek to Yelets prison, which is described in this story. A few days before his release, he was charged with disseminating “deliberately false fabrications discrediting the Soviet state and social system” (Article 190-note of the previous Criminal Code of the RSFSR). On this charge he was sentenced to an additional 3 years in prison. He was released in 1983 at the end of his term.
"Lawlessness" was first written in the camp, then - after the author's release - it was written a second time. Published in the samizdat magazine "Duel" (1987), in the magazine "Country and World", in "Express Chronicle".

"Mayhem?" - the reader will ask. There is something familiar in the word. Everything is correct, lawlessness is arbitrariness that has no limits. This exact slang word is floating around all the camps. Everywhere the administration is lawless. Somewhere lawlessness is carried out with their own hands, somewhere with the hands of prisoners. But there is nothing more limitless than the “red roof”. An indoor prison is a prison where, unlike a pre-trial detention center (SIZO), the prison term itself is served. The cream of the criminal world is brought indoors. All the most irreconcilable to the administration, the most independent and authoritative, decisive and violent.
The trial is in the camp and please - you are transferred from your regime to a prison regime, to a “covered” prison. For up to three years. Someone from it will return to the zone, someone will be freed, and others will be freed from this world. It happens that they are given a prison sentence for especially serious crimes, but such people are kept in prison separately. Unofficially, krytniks are equated with especially dangerous repeat offenders. No matter what regime they are from, whether they are in general for the first time, or seasoned repeat offenders from a special regime, they are all taken together, separately from the rest of the contingent. Or, as a last resort, with the “striped” ones, with a special regime. A separate cell in the "stolypin" (prisoner's carriage), a separate cell in the "etadka" (stage department of the pre-trial detention center). "Where is my fellow countryman from? - From the rooftop!" - this speaks about a person. Covered gives the prisoner weight in the criminal world. If he's decent, of course. And his decency was then of a high standard. And the bastard with the scum covered to all scum. But if it is unknown. What kind of krytnik is, those around him always have a vague, unspoken suspicion. Not without reason.

Prison morality determines the relationship of prisoners with each other and their attitude towards the administration, towards the “cops”. The fight between cops and prisoners is everywhere. Everywhere the administration seeks to break the prisoners, undermine their cohesion, and destroy morality. Everything comes into play here: force, intimidation, provocations, intrigue, bribery. And of course, the use of traitors to prison principles, all kinds of informers, bandages - “goats” in a word. But in the zone, the cops are prevented from establishing complete dictatorship by the greater opportunity for communication between prisoners, and therefore greater cohesion, than in the closed zone.
In the zone there will always be a stone, a stool that is not screwed to the floor, or a piece of iron removed from the industrial area. In prison a person is unarmed. They'll put him with anyone. There are several against you, selected by the administration. What are you going to do with your fists? Such a cell, where cops deal with prisoners with the hands of other prisoners, is called a “press hut”. Accordingly, they fall under the “press”, to the “pressers”. This is chaos in the full meaning of the word. The administration is trying to “break” the roof. And the completely broken covered one is the Red covered one. It is comparatively easier to break an indoor general or enhanced regime. People are sitting for the first time. And there is less experience, and intelligence, and the prison principles are weaker.
In general, there is most chaos in the general mode. At least for a longer period of time, people become more serious, and in 10 years you will gain more. than in a couple of years.

Krytnik arouses hidden suspicion. What was he doing there, how did they live? Little comes from the isolated world of the indoor zone. They don’t like to describe the covered one. Some have gotten dirty themselves, and some understand: talk about lawlessness, and they will suspect you of it. Moreover, little is known about the broken ones, especially those who are free. “Where are you going, fellow countryman? - To the covered street in Yelets!” “Yes”... - the experienced person will think. “Is there something waiting for you there?”
So, here we come, Yelets. Indoor, general security, broken, red. Branch of hell on Earth. Is there a worse place in the Gulag?

Like most prisons in Russia. Yeletskaya was built under Catherine II and originally had the shape of the letter “E”. In 1978, a new building was added and it turned out to be eight. New arrivals are placed in the old building, in the so-called “relegation”. For two months, the replenishment is kept at a reduced rate of nutrition, and most importantly, pre-treatment is carried out. Usually two experienced krytniks are placed in a cell for 8-10 people. Officially - in the form of punishment (a reduced nutritional standard is provided for by the Correctional Labor Code). Of course, experienced spies of the administration. Besides. newcomers are gently brought up to speed. The covered one is based on fear. Fear is the main weapon of power in Russia. But nowhere, probably, is its concentration as great as in the red roof. They try to instill fear in new arrivals right away. First, stories from experienced people about obstinate people tortured, raped, and killed in the “presses.” About the futility of resistance, about the complete hopelessness of protests, about the complete absence of ways out of the situation. Except for one thing: work, do what they say and everything will be “nice”, i.e. Fine.

An important point. The administration does not simply need horror in the souls of prisoners. Unlimited despair can lead to riots. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, since there is no way out!” Therefore, fear is dosed. If you don’t meet the production quota, they will beat you in the press. If you don’t want to sign a renunciation of thieves’ ideas, they will rape you and make you a “rooster.” If you plan to organize a riot, they will kill you. If you exceed the production quota, you will receive an additional ruble of goods at the stall and cinema 2 times a month. If you become a press operator, you will receive benefits and be freed without supervision. Lawlessness is regulated. Fascist concentration camps involuntarily come to mind. It’s not for nothing that old prisoners say: the Nazis are pathetic plagiarists who copied the achievements of the Gulag. This is probably true.
The newcomer sits on the low side. He is hungry, loses physical strength, and most importantly, mental strength. It seems that even the roofed walls exude fear. "Shmonas" (searches) are carried out periodically. First of all, weapons are looked for. Bringing hardware, razors, etc. with you. At the same time, they are looking for money. However, it is immediately explained to new arrivals that money does not “spin” in the covered room; it is better to hand it over to the administration. There will be less trouble. The smart ones immediately enrich the administration. The cunning ones will do it later, paying at the same time with their sides. Naturally, spies are experienced people. After two months, the administration knows exactly who should be corrected and how. The newcomer is “lifted” onto the body (demoted in the basement).
From the generally accepted point of view of criminals, any cell in a broken indoor cell is a press hut. Each has a foreman and several “support” people. They themselves work a little and monitor the work and behavior of the other inmates. There are no obstinates; the hierarchy is maintained simply by the obedience of the “cattle”. But from the point of view of the Yelets krytniks, this is just a normal hut. “Press” is a different matter; it exists specifically for correction. Then those who have been corrected (if they are not killed or completely maimed) will be sent to a “regular” cell. The newcomer turned out to be a suspicious type; he allowed himself to make careless statements on a low level. They take him into the press hut. There is no talk of resistance, the cops can just throw you in there. In addition, those who adhere to the principles of prison morality remember: refusal to enter any cell is a grave sin for a prisoner. A reasonable standard of behavior, but not for the Yeletskaya Indoor...

The person being lifted was physically weakened enough, the brought piece of iron was taken away long ago. The door opens, the prisoner enters (is pushed in), the door closes. Still, just in case the newcomer’s reputation is bright, the press workers got ready. They stand near the door, on the table and on *shkonah (beds), shod in heavy boots. The slightest attempt by a newcomer to attack, and he is stunned by the kicks of several people, thrown to the floor, trampled by heavy boots. Wooden sticks can also be used . There are no iron weapons in the presses. For the same reason that the cops in the zones do not carry pistols. What if a prisoner manages to take it away? The press workers are cowardly, they value their skin. A stick is not such a dangerous thing in the hands of one person. The cops flawlessly follow instructions During searches in the presses, sticks are confiscated. A few minutes after the search, the warden returns them to the cell through a feeding trough. But decorum is preserved, formality comes first!
Let's say that someone entering the press does not immediately think of killing someone. Although there are reasons for this. After all, murder means a new case, “promotion”. Let them add ten years to the term, but at least they will transfer you to a pre-trial detention center. Thank God, no longer in general mode, not indoors! So, the newcomer is cunning, he understands the futility of an immediate attack. Let me, he thinks, behave quietly at first, pretending to be safe, talk back and forth... Let down my vigilance. I’ll wait for the right moment and soak it “by night” (at night). But the pressers are also cunning, and most importantly, experienced.
“Great, fellow countrymen! - great! Over there on that bunk.” The convict throws the mattress, the “countrymen” go to the floor and sit down at ease (although not without the stipulated rules for advantageous disposition). The fellow countryman lights a cigarette, and the usual conversation begins: from where, from what zone, for what period. Everything is like people. A few minutes pass, the newcomer has relaxed, the hut is like a hut. Suddenly, unexpectedly, at a signal from the foreman, they begin to beat the newcomer. As it should, so that you immediately understand what you should count on.

So life in the press began. At first, the victim can be beaten at any time, for no reason, night or day. Speaking of nights. Where have the old hopes for them gone?! A couple of press workers sleep during the day, a couple at night. And even for those who sleep, the left ear hears and the right eye sees. The purpose of the press is to break the prisoner spiritually. The main method is torture by fear. You don't have to be afraid of pain while experiencing it. But few can calmly expect pain without fear of sudden beatings. And they will be in constant tension. Not a day, not two, but your imagination will make the months an eternity. Then the beatings are not the worst thing. They can torture, they can rape. One should not think that press operators act only at their own discretion. They act according to the instructions of the administration. Variations and resourcefulness are allowed, but within certain limits. So, for example, a foreman named Bodya, an inveterate “goat lover” (rooster lover), allowed himself to rape “godfather” Maronchak (chief of the operations department), who was being corrected without permission. 3and that he was put in a punishment cell. Don't be self-willed! Surely Bodia justified himself by this. that they say the boss misunderstood. Malicious disobedience would have put him under pressure in another press house, or even in his own. What does the administration want? Good indicators of prisoner re-education. This means first place in the socialist competition of administrations of zones and prisons of the Office. This means bonuses, promotions, and salary increases according to qualification certification. What is the indicator of re-education? In the refusal of prisoners to thieves' ideas. They call the prisoner to his godfather and ask him to sign something like the following: “I, so-and-so, arrived at the institution at that time. Previously, in a correctional labor institution, I maliciously violated the regime of detention, refused to work, adhered to thieves’ ideas. For which I was transferred to prison regime. Here, at first, I also behaved incorrectly. But then I realized that I had to honestly serve my sentence, through hard work, atone for my guilt before society, and after my release, become worthy of living in Soviet society. I realized this with the help of educational conversations conducted with me lieutenant so-and-so, with the help of explanations and the example of my cellmates.. I refuse thieves' ideas and call on all convicts who have not yet taken the path of correction to do the same. The prisoner signs. Then the tape recorder is turned on and he reads out the text. Then his speeches will be played on the in-prison radio. The prison is listening. The demotion is listening. “Yes. This is the voice of a fellow countryman who recently sat with us. They lifted him to the hull a week ago."
It doesn’t matter that the prisoner was imprisoned for a youthful fight and he had a vague idea of ​​thieves’ ideas. It doesn’t matter that he came to the indoor for fighting with goats. We'll fix everyone! Are there any other indicators of re-education? Certainly! The prisoner writes a letter to the abandoned zone. There it is read (shown) to negatively inclined elements, “denial”. A letter in the spirit that I, so-and-so, known to you, refused, re-educated, worked, reformed, which I advise you to do. A letter is being written to the victims at large. I realized my guilt, I repent of the harm I caused you. It doesn’t matter if there was no guilt and the “victims” need to repent! All? Not at all! An obligation is assumed to pay off the claim in full, as soon as possible. Fortunately, “we don’t need the sun, the party is shining for us, we don’t need bread - give us work!” The corrected person exceeds all standards, works day and part of the night. The most important thing is that he himself is ready to “re-educate”, you see, he got into support, then he will become a foreman when a vacancy presents itself. By all indicators, Yeletsk prison is in first place, as stated in the newspaper of the Lipetsk Regional Department of Correctional Labor Institutions of the USSR Ministry of Internal Affairs. These are the kind of cheerful reports from cop correspondents, even with photographs of fellow prisoners.
It is clear that a broken prisoner is excluded from the decent criminal world. Although this is not always known. Not everyone is forced to pee in the zone. There is intent. A secret renegade may turn out to be more useful in the administration zone in the future than an overt renegade. Also, not all renunciations are read out on the radio. Surely not everyone renounced. The administration could not pay attention to the prisoner and not offer him to renounce. There is no need, the first place is still ours. In the large zone, according to the newspapers, too, “only” 99.97% of those voted.
Let's return to the martyr in the press house. In the very first days, the foreman, who came back from a conversation with his godfather, suggests that the victim renounce the ideas of thieves. So to speak, officially. Previously there were personal wishes. It sounds sacramental: “X.. or a fountain pen?” As a rule, the second is chosen, although this does not protect against the first. The bathroom in the cell is fenced off with a small metal shield, the so-called bridge.
If the administration gives the go-ahead, the person being pressed is bent over the bridge and raped. Usually they take turns and the foreman has first right. Now the pressed cock. When sanctioning rape, the administration is guided by various considerations. For example, destroy the authority of the person being pressed in the criminal world completely and forever. For the edification of others or as an encouragement to press workers. Perhaps the administration has realized: the person being pressed has wealthy relatives, rich friends, he himself has a capital at large. - An offer is made to the person being pressed to transfer money to such and such an address. The recipient, naturally, is a cop.
The bridge awaits those who do not heed the offer. They can rape you if the foreman is sure that the person being pressed will not complain to the administration. A very common option. Bodie's failure is the exception rather than the rule. The press workers are experienced people, they know which person being corrected will not admit that he has become a rooster, he will be afraid of publicity. Or he will be afraid of additional torment. The covered one breeds secret roosters. After all, the obvious ones are pariahs in the criminal world.
Let's say the person being pressed is lucky. He is not hopelessly stubborn, poor and has no family connections, the pressmen do not do ad-libs. There was no sanction for rape. The press workers themselves are afraid of rape; the person being pressed has loyal friends in freedom. Or the press workers understand: such a person himself will not rest for the rest of his life until he kills them, and they hope to escape retribution for the rest without getting too “bogged down.” The one who was pressed did not renounce the ideas of thieves, and even if he did, he still remained obstinate. Perhaps he was raped, but there was no renunciation. Or constant beatings do not produce results, and killing or maiming is not allowed. In any case, when conventional methods are ineffective, they resort to indirect pain torture. Sometimes they are used in parallel with beatings. For example, the person being tortured is stuffed into a bag (mattress cover), a rope is tied and hung from a wall or bunk. It may hang for hours, maybe days and weeks with short-term extractions from the bag. Then, weak as a winter fly, the re-educated person is shaken out onto the floor, treated to kicks and left alone. Until the new hanging.
Sometimes fixation is applied to the pin. The person being tortured is tied tightly in a lying position and left there. Days of the week.
Only nighttime fixations are possible, but here the goal is different: so that there is no need to monitor a violent subject at night.
Morning check, a corps officer named Dog enters the cell. “Seven, boss! - Why is this one lying down? - Not feeling well! - Well, well...”
Evening check, a cop named Communist enters. “Seven, boss! - And what about this one? - Not feeling well! - Well, well...”
The guards, godfathers, those in charge - everyone is aware of the matter. But the pro forma was respected.
A special kind of fixation is also used, the so-called “frog” placement. The person being pressed is bent in half and stuffed into the sleeves of the padded jacket with his hands and feet.
Particularly stubborn ones are “dragged over all the bumps.” They kick him, hit him with “horns” (a board from the toilet), fix him, put him in a frog, hang him up. There are rumors that somewhere they even burned it with cigarettes. Then they are allowed to rest and think at their leisure in the punishment cell. Then they drag it over all the bumps again. Sometimes a crippled rehabilitated person dies in a prison hospital. Murders also happen directly in the cell. It’s okay, prison medicine will chalk it up to something like a “heart attack.” Sometimes those being pressed go crazy. In 1980, one such poor fellow was placed in a hospital two cells from mine. From a “regular” cell he was put in a press for some sins. The number of the press hut was covered with a piece of paper. It must be said that murders and rapes prevailed. period of breaking the roof. Before this, the Yeletskaya indoor building was quite ordinary. As in any almost covered room, there were a couple of press huts. But so-so, amateurish. They won’t let your neighbors knock, they’ll turn you over to the cops, and they’ll beat you up a little. In general, nothing. The cops are tired of the poor, gray life. Around 1976, the roof began to be destroyed. In any prison there are prisoners who are offended by their cellmates. Some got it as a result of the crime, others as a result of the lawlessness of the arrestees. In the prison regime, people are violent, the isolation of life predisposes to intrigue and settling scores. This one was lost, that one was lost. I made mistakes when I was young. The prison administration began to intensively “spread the mob” (weave intrigues). Through the “mother hens” (their spies), spread rumors, provoke prisoners, trying to quarrel with everyone. They did not stop at direct forgeries. This kind of thing thrives in any indoor prison, but the youth and inexperience of the prisoners played a sinister role.

A typical example. They say the following. A young prisoner named Taiga, originally from Siberia. Once he was walking with his cellmates in the prison yard. The cops come: “Let’s go to the cell, gather your things.” Taiga was transferred to another cell. Cunning cops took someone's woolen socks from an empty cell. Cellmates come from a walk, there are no socks. Who stole it? "Taiga"! If they were more experienced, if this happened under strict conditions, they would have spat on their socks and realized something. It's different here. They sent a “xiva” (note) to Taiga’s cell: “So and so. Taiga, you rat, stole your socks.” The new inmates have shaken things up - there are socks! In vain Taiga made excuses, saying they were his own. They beat me and threw me out of the house. Plus, for “ratting”, he was put in a punishment cell. Then the administration began processing. Where to go? Young, vengeful. He was respected in the criminal world, but now not a single decent cell will accept him. This is how the press hut was selected. Taiga, “fuflyzhniki” (who have not paid their gambling debt), oppressed in other cells. And then they began to throw in Taiga’s former cellmates one by one. The press started working. The administration did not skimp. Taiga had everything: vodka, any food, cigarettes. The physically developed and determined Taiga had assistants to match him. The cops could let this brigade into any cell, and a massacre would begin. How many raped, maimed, and killed people were on their conscience! Or rather, the absence of it. The indoor one was in a fever. .New presses have appeared. Powerlessness and fear spread like a creeping infection through the prison corridors. Replenishment occurred due to fear of the press, and due to the fear of those being pressed, and due to bribery by the administration, and due to the intoxication of permissiveness. By 1978, the roof was broken. What is Taiga's future? He took a good walk. Although both he and the administration kept the date of his release secret, it became known at large. They say the following. On the day of his liberation, Taiga was put in a “crater” and taken from Yelets under the guard of cops. But a little earlier, several criminals attacked a traffic police patrol. We tied up the cops and changed into uniform. The car was turned across the road, and the patrol chief was placed under knives nearby. The cops in the crater were given orders: not to stop under any circumstances. But they see: a traffic police post, a familiar cop asks to stop. We stopped. Criminals dressed as cops approached the car, the guards got out, and Taiga got out. He was stabbed several times and the attackers fled. Taiga turned out to be tenacious. He was operated on at the Yeletsk hospital and immediately after the operation he was taken somewhere.
A trace was found. In the summer of 1980, I was returning by convoy from the Usman regional hospital, where I was treated for tuberculosis, to the Yeletskaya indoor hospital. The guys from Siberia who were walking with me said: Taiga was tried again, he was recently killed in the Krasnoyarsk zone. But retribution overtook only a few who especially advanced during the demolition of the covered press machines. This is understandable. In the red roof, most of those pressed became pressers themselves. And that's why.
By 1978, the roof was broken. The press started working smoothly, according to routine. There are fewer extremes, murders, rapes, and self-harm. At the same time, the psychological pressure intensified, and his methods were refined. Rarely are those being pressed capable of offering active resistance; everything around was broken. There is no one to look up to and no one to fear condemnation. The press began not so much to sharply break the prisoners, but to change them, “re-educate” them, in cop terminology.

So, in the overwhelming majority of cases, the person being pressed immediately gives up trying to resist. Radical beatings were used on him maybe once, they didn’t fix him to his bed, they didn’t hang him in a mattress. What is his fate? Let's look into one of the press huts, where the foreman is Zenkin, nicknamed Moscow. Most of the press huts are located on the old building, in the dead ends of the letter "E". So farther away... The poor fellow has already been beaten, he has “lost his mane.” In the cell, besides Zenkin and support, there are three people under pressure. The numerical superiority seems to be minimal. Our poor fellow remembers: the whole cell beat him. Taking a closer look, he realizes: two of the cellmates are in the same position as himself. Vague hope swirls in the soul. What if, by conspiring with the two, we raise a rebellion against Zenkin and his support? Hope is quickly disappearing. Zenkin liked the newcomer’s scarf: “Give him a price.” The newcomer hesitated with a wild expression of delight; the joy of “giving away” turned out to be unnatural. “Oh, you thief... you’re used to knocking men off!.. Vasya, get it from him!”
Vasya, equally under pressure, gets up and “gets it.” Consists of punching someone in the face.
In this case, the offender must stand still. If he starts fluttering, the whole cell will rush to beat him. In general, to participate in beatings, to receive when ordered, is the sacred duty of the victim. Evasion is severely punished, as the beginner quickly discovers. Let's say on the same day another person being pressed committed a minor offense. The punishment is known - the newcomer is ordered to receive it. He received it, but without diligence. Perhaps the idea of ​​a conspiracy of the pressed had not yet left him, or his natural aversion to the position of executioner was at work.
The newcomer’s dishonesty did not escape the eyes of the attentive Zenkin: “You’re slacking, fellow countryman. Come on, Consumption, get him for it.” And the same Consumption, from whom the newcomer had just received, is now receiving from the beginner himself. To be honest! The lesson was not in vain. When the whole house beats the one being pressed, the newcomer also does not spare his legs and fists. Moscow is a smart tyrant who has perfectly mastered the science of power. Presser by the grace of God! The cops don't bury his talent. Pushkarev, who was Zenkin’s supporter, eventually became a foreman in another press house. The press is a kind of forge of management personnel. Time will pass, be. maybe a newbie. will show abilities, become support, and then it’s not far from the foreman’s portfolio. But this is all in the future. While he is studying, life in the press follows a beaten path. The cops pay their main attention to work. Work can be done with or without access to working chambers. Naturally, there is no conclusion in the press. There is no need for unnecessary movements; they bring work to the camera. The convicts spin "charabeshki", small plastic plates. A wire is inserted into them and tied on both sides with certain knots. Then, at the factory, where the charabes are taken - they are used to make Krona batteries. Did the reader buy these correctly? Then he paid money not only for labor. but also for blood.
The pressed ones work from rise to release. With short breaks, eat, go to the toilet. However, the cunning Bodya did not even admit downtime in the toilet. A prisoner sits on the “push”, spinning charabeshki. It happens when the cops need to tighten up the plan, or rather, exceed it remarkably well - the pressed ones also work at night. The guards on duty are given instructions not to interfere. The cops benefit from this state of affairs. Prisoners are only given the norm, plus 1-2 percent of excess. Half of the money is deposited into the prisoner's account, half into the institution's account. But the official norm is much lower than that established for prisoners. The difference, of course, goes to the cops. In general, all sorts of frauds flourish with work. The cops are raking in big, real money. It is clear that their attitude towards prison production is also very lively. This is why beating determines the existence of the pressed. From this point of view, the press is a training and production plant. In a broken roof, careless workers are the first to fall into the press. It’s not necessary to work at a lower level, officially. But the kind cops, so that the new arrivals don’t get bored, offer to play charabeshki. They say it’s a useful thing, they’ll learn how to work right away, and they’ll get a ruble to buy groceries. Those who prefer to be bored or who are slow to master a profession end up in the press. There they will be quickly taught how to work. I slowed down a little and got hit on the head. I got hit on the head several times - then it should be hit. Chronic “lazy people” are beaten all over the house. All this is called working under pressure.

Communist style reigns in Zenkin's press house. Having fulfilled his quota, the pressed one with “joy” undertakes to help his comrades - support, and first of all - the foreman. Zenkin works a little, there is more support, there are a lot of presses. This style continues in food. No, Zenkin does not take tiny pieces of meat from the lunch gruel from those being pressed. (The pieces are there, the hut is a leader in production). Those who are attentive to the grief of others give the pieces themselves to Zenkin. Why, he, poor fellow, has already been sitting on the roof for so long. There is a spirit of camaraderie in the air. It manifests itself everywhere: in worker solidarity with the press workers, in gastronomic solidarity with. them. Once a month stocking. Everything is sold as if it works great. No, Zenkin does not take away the jam from those being pressed. They themselves prefer not to eat. Well, the person doesn’t want it! And since everything in a friendly hut is common, it is eaten without any leaving a share for those who abstain. Zenkin is an expert on solidarity and tirelessly talks about the spirit of support, mutual assistance, etc. So his political and educational work is top notch. However, the same thing is preached by the official teacher, the lieutenant, who conducts political classes in the cell. He. as a communist, he gives everything a Marxist-Leninist interpretation. Socialism, the Soviet way of life, and communist ideals do not bypass prisoners. And what those being pressed will not understand in theory, Zenkin will explain in practice. His intimate “developed” socialism is very weighty and real.

The order in Zenkin's cell is perfect. She was guaranteed first place in the intra-prison competition in all respects. And in terms of work, and in terms of cleanliness, and in terms of discipline. To confirm this, a challenge red pennant “For first place in the competition” hangs in a place of honor. However, the challenge pennant almost never passes; this is where it belongs.
Zenkin's camera looks brilliant. I know, I looked through the peephole myself. Paul is beaming. There are napkins, curtains, boxes everywhere. From time to time slogans like: “What have you done for the hut?”
Conscious pressed people, in their free time from work, sew, embroider, glue, and clean. There are no unconscious ones. “Let's give battle to slobs and truants!” "The fight is on. Once Zenkin discovered a hole in his favorite napkin covering a tank of water. Some... this and that... burned it with shag ashes. The lord's anger was righteous and unstoppable. “Who did it?” There is no answer. “Okay, I trust these” - in the direction of support. “They would admit it themselves.” Indeed, if you also take into account that they smoke mostly cigarettes, they like pressed shag. “The rest: everyone gets from everyone. Whoever is slacking, I’ll get it myself.” It happens in a round-robin manner, in turn, each person being pressed hits each person being pressed.
It’s not for nothing that Moscow has first place in socialism... . sorry, intra-prison competition. Like no one else, he uses psychological methods and takes into account the human factor. Zenkin’s brother received this from his brother. It’s the joyful, cheerful atmosphere in his cell. Everything is done playfully, with laughter, together. It is forbidden to be sad. If the person under pressure is gloomy and not cheerful, it means he is offended by others and is up to no good. They get it for this. Unbridled fun is also not allowed - it looks like mockery of others. They get it for this. The golden mean is found by trial and error. Very quickly.
In Zenkin's cell they are on their knees not only figuratively, but also literally. There is a form of brigade censure. Those who have tattoos of stars on their knees are especially likely to kneel. The meaning of the tattoo is “I will not kneel.” Sometimes, for general amusement, they put someone in a frog. The person being imprisoned laughs himself - he is happy to amuse the audience.

They take me for a walk. Zenkin and his cellmates met him, but the second guard had not yet had time to lead them into the cell. Some pre-war man, pressed to the point of despair, ran down the corridor. Apparently he decided to get away from the press workers, to run at least somewhere. Where are you going to run? The cops stayed to guard me, the prisoners rushed after the fugitive. They grabbed me by the arms and legs and carried me into the cell. The cop calmly closed the door and looked through the peephole. Then he closed it with a smart movement. It’s clear what kind of spectacle he saw...
Press officers apply preventive measures to fugitives. They tie them with ropes to the straps of their padded jackets and take them for a walk. It happens that support and a foreman, managing a team of people being pressed, are walking along the corridor. A high-ranking official from the administration comes across him and passes by without noticing anything.
But who are they, these ranks of the administration, shoulders... excuse me, masters of educational affairs? Our valiant internal affairs workers, communists, officers. Please meet me.
The head of the prison is Lieutenant Colonel Podgaetsky (died in 1980). Wearing glasses, important and calm, an inveterate business executive. Production is his main concern.
Deputy head of the prison for the regime of detention, Major Pronin. On an indoor level, this “regime” is the actual boss of everything. The press system is his merit. He knows everything: where and who to imprison, who to beat, who to rape. The foremen are in awe of the regime. They know that someone from the support always works for Pronin, reporting on what is happening in the cell. Finding out who the hen is is not easy. Let's note that everyone doesn't like hens, and foremen no less than others. Once a gag was reported, another - the foreman loses his place. The hen is not too zealous in informing. The golden mean suits him. If they find out, he himself will come under pressure. The foreman will find an “objective” reason. Sometimes an ambitious hen tries to overthrow the foreman and take his place. But slander, as a rule, is not used, since there is also a hen in the cell for control. This is where all sorts of combinations begin. In an atmosphere of semi-certainty about who is who, various tactical moves are made. The two, suspecting each other of working for Pronin, try to conspire against the foreman. The foreman conspires with one, keeping a close eye on the other. The second one, while discrediting the other hen, looks for a way to the foreman, etc. The situation is complicated by the fact that there is almost certainly a mother hen sitting in the cell from the godfather.
Meet godfather Maronchak. Captain, head of the operations department. Pronin has less power, but more opportunities. His occupations are “intelligence” and “counterintelligence”, relationships between prisoners. The godfather, skillfully pressing his secret springs, often bypasses the regime. They say there is a secret war going on between them, where the battlefield is prison cells. The goal of the rivalry is clear - everyone needs money. However, one rule is absolutely followed: nothing secret becomes obvious, i.e. official. Naturally, both the Directorate, the Yelets prosecutor, and the Main Directorate know about the situation on the roof. The principle “if you earn money yourself, share it with your bosses” is not compatible with official awareness. Even though I didn’t see how Pronin and Maronchak shared profits with the prosecutor and the Department, I know how Pronin, Maronchak, the prosecutor’s office, and the Department did everything possible to ensure that the Yelets lawlessness remained a secret.
The deputy head of the prison for political affairs, a major, I don’t remember his name, acts as a carrot. Enveloping gaze, good-natured character, inviting manners. He will call the prisoner to his office and delve into his personal troubles. He will be surprised and promise to help those offended by the administration. True, after a frank conversation, for some reason his naive interlocutors end up with Boda, Moscow, Pushkar...
But green beginners, as a rule, are naive. A month of brutal struggle for survival turns the stupidest into great experts on human nature.
The essence of the service of the head of the medical unit, Captain Vakula - nicknamed Hryak - is to treat with the prefix "Ka". It was he and a team of cops who pacified the unruly huts during the break-up period. Has an exceptional passion for therapeutic diagnoses: heart attack; renal failure, etc. Trauma? He wasn't even in prison!
Here are the most outstanding workers. Next comes the smaller fry: assistants, squad leaders, masters. In general, the cops of the Yeletskaya indoor police station have a brilliant reputation. For example, Captain Volkov received a major in 1980 and went to Afghanistan as an instructor, sharing valuable experience. How are things going with the press in Afghanistan now?

The pressed animal lives in the press chamber. He washes the foreman and support, works a lot, eats little, sleeps little. They hit him on the head with stale rolls, put him in a frog, and force him to his knees. But nothing lasts forever, including life under pressure. Although, on the other hand...
Finally, the re-educated and realized person is transferred to a new building. In a “regular”, so to speak, camera. It also has a foreman and support. But living conditions are easier. In vain, suddenly, on a whim, they won’t start beating. It is not customary to share pieces of meat, just as it is not customary to wash someone. The goods are eaten together. You have to work a lot, but the labor is divided more evenly. Heaven after abs! The camera is called the working one. In the morning they are taken to the cells of the production floor. The work is different. They stretch and cut steel wire (for the “Krona”), and make plastic forms of the elements. The hardest work is the production of graphite brushes for Zhiguli cars. For eight hours the prisoner breathes graphite dust. Walk - 1 hour per day. Food - you will live, but nothing else! The new building is damp. In winter, the walls “cry” and water oozes out. And so, perhaps, for three years. The Gulag is a breeding ground for tuberculosis. Probably every tenth prisoner was or is sick with it. There are especially many consumptives indoors. And in Yeletsk prison the main contribution is made by graphite production. Sometimes, looking at the Zhiguli, I think: how many lives have these cars eaten? To what number of cavities and tubercles do they owe their creation?
No, I am not encouraging car owners to walk now. Everyone living in the country, one way or another, through a chain of communications, work, purchases - everything that constitutes everyday existence - works for the press. And the press works for him.
The fountain pen is in my hands, the ink in it, this paper - they are also pressed flour. No, I am not calling on the West to impose an embargo on the import of Zhiguli cars. Will anything change? Any sale in the USSR, of jeans or machine tools, any purchase of vodka or tractors is also support for lawlessness. Every teleconference, every forum in Moscow, every handshake with beaming Soviet leaders is work for the press. And the country itself is a huge press chamber. There is a foreman and support, there are millions of people being pressed.

The fear of getting caught in the press is the main factor in the good behavior of a prisoner in a “normal” house... Here is R, with whom I was sitting. I went to Moscow as support. I tried to start a rebellion against him and came under pressure. He bought his release from the press by agreeing to work for Maronchak, to inform about everything and about me. True, the godfather miscalculated. It turned out that R. informed not his godfather about me, but me about his godfather. In general, it is impossible not to say a little about yourself in such a narrative.
I arrived in Yelets from the Tobolsk zone in 1978. There were different twists and turns, I sat with different people. But each time it was really an ordinary cell, without a foreman and support. The only one completely covered. Of course, cellmates were selected for me, even if not all of them. The administration's goal is clear: control. Hens and counter-hens sat down, some more than once. But my God, how ineptly the administration acted! Accustomed to forceful methods, how helpless she found herself without them. How foolishly she became entangled in her own intrigues! For example, Kataev, with whom I sat, Pronina’s mother hen, worked for me. There was an anecdote: through Kataev, I had to teach Pronin how to call Kataev for conversations “without “suspicion.” By the way, Kataev’s operational pseudonym is Murashkin, and R.’s operational pseudonym is Nikolai. Two days before the end of my sentence, I was charged under Article 190 -note (spread of deliberately false fabrications discrediting the Soviet state and social system). Witnesses were the cops and some of the former cellmates who agreed to this under threat from the press, for the promised benefits. But Anatoly Filimonov fully confirmed everything I said about the Yeletskaya roofed building. A great man courage, pretending to agree to be an informant and witness, he helped a lot in exposing the lawlessness. I learned a lot from R., from other prisoners. The administration itself helped with its cunning nonsense. Various people helped, in different cells, household servants and even the cops. Thank you to all of them: prisoners and cops, heroes and scum, brave and cowardly! For the note passed on, for the letter sent, for the brave word, for not giving up one more time... No matter how broken the people are, there remains hope: decency not completely killed. And in the big press house too!

A few months before the promotion, the administration gave an order: do not hit hard. The press started working idle. The goal is clear: not to provide fresh, evidentiary material for the upcoming trial. And in a short time, several cells appeared without foremen and support. The following case is indicative. Immediately after getting up, the screams of a beaten prisoner were heard. Then the cell door slammed. The prison duty officer led the foreman into the corridor and, by chance, stopped not far from my cell. “Why did they beat you? - It doesn’t work, boss! - Couldn’t you wait until the withdrawal?” All clear. A little later, over the roar of the engines, the screams would not be heard. The administration's behavior became cautious.
Another case. Two prisoners flatly refused to enter one of the cells. They jumped to the window in the corridor, broke the glass and threatened to open themselves if they tried to push them into the cell. At other times - cut yourself for your health! This time the administration relented.
The secret war with the administration, the extraction of information and its transfer, intrigues and counter-intrigues could form a separate narrative. Did I take a risk? It's better to get a new term than to spend a day in the press. Of course, as a politician, I was in a privileged position. I knew that the administration would not throw it at the press at its own discretion. Still, there was no complete certainty. There was also general fear, the press on the left, the press on the right. And then, who knows when the KGB itself will give the sanction for the massacre?

There was a trial, three years of strict regime. In the Usman zone we managed to write "Lawlessness". It’s a pity that the manuscript, which had already been released, fell into the hands of the KGB. There was no need to repeat the essays. New zones lay ahead. Tobolsk indoor. In 1983 I was released, then I was treated for tuberculosis. In 1984, I drove up to the Yeletsk prison and found a cop I knew. Apparently, the covered one remained broken. What's going on there now? Who knows, you won't understand from the outside.
I wasn’t too tormented by my conscience for not repeating “Lawlessness” for a long time.
I conveyed information about the press cameras from prison and spoke about them in court. Based on these and other materials, my father, Pinhos Podrabinek, wrote “The Trial of Kirill Podrabinek.” The item has been published.
Still, it's time to repeat "Mayhem." Of course, after so many years it is written differently. Why did you not give in to the advice of friends and your inner voice for so long? Repeating is always difficult. But as soon as I sat down to write, I realized the main thing: I had to plunge again into the world of fear and torment of the covered one. I didn't forget anything, but it was a memory of the mind. Now the memory of emotions has come. Let it become my tribute to the sufferers of the Yeletskaya roof. And I don’t really believe in the possibility of changing their fate with publications...

In prison and in the zone, those who are imprisoned under a shameful article are especially not favored.

For example, there is an opinion that someone who has received a sentence for rape (Article 131 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation, in the old Criminal Code - the famous 117th) immediately goes into the category of those who have been disqualified. But is it? And in general, what articles are considered shameful in the world of thieves? And does it make sense in places of detention to hide the fact that you are related to them?

In the world of thieves, there is no such idea that a shameful article puts an end to the fate of this or that person. Yes, there are disrespectful articles, namely sexual ones. But not everyone who sits on them will become depressed.

Many authorities and thieves in law had an article for rape in their criminal biography, and they were often sentenced on a trumped-up case. It was sometimes difficult for the Soviet police to imprison this or that authority, no matter what the scale - allied or peripheral. There was nothing to grab onto. Then a case was initiated based on the testimony of a certain victim. No examinations were carried out. One statement was enough to put a person behind bars. But in prison, everything is in full view, you can’t hide. As the saying goes: “You haven’t entered the cell yet, but everyone already knows everything about you.”

Therefore, some novice authorities, having received Article 117, popularly called “youth”, met only sympathy from their brothers. Ordinary defendants and prisoners were treated in the same way. If you are not guilty, then you can live in peace. So by the early 1980s, Soviet prisons had become accustomed to “rape.” Among the thieves in law who were convicted for this case on false charges in their youth, one can single out such influential ones as Stepan Furman (Styopa Murmansky), Vladimir Tyurin (Tyurik), Viktor Alimpiev (Kosolapy), Oleg Sukhochev (Sukhach), Andrey Trofimov (Trofa ), Alexey Alexandrov (Pastor).

Vladimir Podatev (Pudel), a former crime boss, told how he had to restore his reputation when he was imprisoned for rape on the basis of falsified facts: “...I wanted to hang myself because the article was shameful. As a rule, those convicted under this article did not have the right to vote, and certainly could not become authorities. At first I had many conflicts on this basis, in which I did not yield to anyone. Then many realized that it was better not to mess with me, and after some time I positioned myself in such a way that everyone without exception began to take me into account. After I managed to consolidate my authority, I began to have a noticeable influence not only on individual prisoners, but also on the prisons and zones in general where I happened to be. I created a common fund, stopped lawlessness on the part of prisoners who were accustomed to resolving issues from a position of strength, and resisted the arbitrariness of the camp authorities. For me, the most important thing in any situation was to remain human.”

Articles for evasion of treatment of sexually transmitted diseases, for sodomy, for depraved acts against minors, for the murder of loved ones - father or mother - were also considered shameful. But I repeat once again that the cases could have been fabricated. An example is the former Primorsky authority Sergei Kliger (Skorzeny). By the age of 40, he had two convictions: for indecent acts against a minor and for theft through official position. He started his career in sports and even coached the Primorye basketball team. The position of a sports functionary helped him establish contacts in the structures around the government, and the zone gave him the opportunity to get closer to the thieves' elite. Skorzeny was the main intermediary between criminal structures and guilds in Soviet Primorye. Another example is the legendary Otari Kvantrishvili (Otarik). In 1966, he was sentenced by the Moscow City Court for rape, but did not serve the term due to a mental disorder. In 1980, he joined the criminal group of the famous Vyacheslav Ivankov (Yaponchik). He worked as a coach for the Dynamo sports society, where he united famous wrestlers, boxers, and karatekas, some of whom later became part of gangster groups. He was respected in the criminal world. And not only in criminal matters. He was a regular participant in all significant social events, easily communicated with people from Boris Yeltsin’s entourage, and was friends with Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov and other government officials, in particular with the generals of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and special services.

Nowadays, the criminal world of Russia has changed a lot. The old principle that says that if you, being innocent, go to prison under a shameful article, you will live normally - practically does not work. Sometimes a fake verdict serves as another reason to deal with an unwanted person.

This is not quite a dictionary, but also not quite a list of “slang” words, of which there are so many on the Internet. Here are just some words from thieves' jargon. Words that have a different meaning in prison jargon than in the general spoken language are marked with the letter "t", professional slang of employees of correctional institutions and operational services of internal affairs bodies (UR, BEP, BOP, NON) - with the letter "s", official terms and abbreviations - the letter "o".

Authority(t) - a representative of the highest group in the informal hierarchy of prisoners.
The informal order operating in the zone is extremely authoritarian in nature, therefore the real situation that develops in the shadow life of a correctional institution, pre-trial detention center or part thereof (cell, PKT, punishment cell, etc.) is determined by the personal qualities of those in power authorities and the presence of a connection with authorities in the wild or in other correctional institutions, as well as the tactics followed by local emergency services workers. In general spoken Russian, the word authority is more often used in the meaning of “influence”, and is contrasted in meaning to the word “power”, but does not complement it. Power exists in the space of formal structures, influencing people through a system of statuses, prestige, positions, and sanctions. Authority Most obey voluntarily.

Authoritative(t) - a prisoner who has a high status in one of two groups (suits) of the informal hierarchy of prisoners: thieves and muzhiks. Not used in relation to representatives of such informal groups as goats, devils, omitted ones.

Jamb(t) - 1) Violation of rules, norms of prison law; 2) Armband of a member of the SPP or other section with the corresponding abbreviation. Most often blue;
3) Unsuccessful action or deed; 4) Cigarette or rolled-up cigarette with marijuana.

Kosyachny(t) - a person who constantly commits acts that contradict generally accepted norms in the prisoner community.

Red zone- a zone where the administration rules with the help of goats and, regardless of prison law, for example, he tries to seat those in the dining room at common tables, demands that prisoners walk in formation to and from the dining room, prohibits movement through zone, entrance to other people's barracks, etc.
In such a zone, activists have broad powers and can behave very aggressively; surveillance of each other, denunciation, and petty quibbles about the behavior and clothing of prisoners are encouraged.

Red(t) - euphemism for goat .

Circle- education broader than family or kentovka; formed most often according to the principle of fraternity.

Wing (put on wing)- a bandage on the sleeve, signifying the prisoner's entry into assets, i.e., in prison jargon, in goats.

Covered(t, s) - Prison-type ITU for those convicted of serious crimes or sent to prison by court order from ITK for systematic violations of the detention regime.

Ksiva(t) - 1) Note, letter. It is transferred illegally from cell to cell, from camp to camp, from prison to freedom and vice versa. Often contains important information about events and persons, sometimes - instructions from authorities. Xivy There are also purely personal content. Constant communication between the camps and prisons scattered throughout the country is carried out using xiv. Synonym - little one, little one;
2) Document, identity card.

Godfather(t) - operational unit employee ITU or Pre-trial detention center.

Nepotistic mutka, nepotistic weed- provocations organized in the zone by operatives to achieve their goals.

Khipezh (kipezh)- unrest, unrest, rebellion started by prisoners against the administration, or by the administration against prisoners.

Shkvarnoy(t) - the same as lowered.

Shkonka, shkonar(t) - bed. In the prison there is a bed, welded from metal pipes and strips, embedded in the floor; often two or three tiers. By number shkonok usually judged on the size and capacity of the cells.

Skin- prisoner's jacket.

Skin(t) - denunciation, report on another prisoner.

Shmon(t, s) - search.

Shnyr(t) - 1) A prisoner who has taken (sometimes under pressure from other prisoners) the responsibility of cleaning a cell, barracks, industrial premises, and performing work that prisoners are required to do in turn. For this work, he receives a certain payment from the prisoners themselves in food, smoke, and money.
2) Prisoners occupying the positions of orderlies (attendants, guards, cleaners) in certain structural units of correctional institutions (punishment isolation wards, PKT, headquarters, visiting rooms, detachments, etc.). Shnyr counts goat already by the position itself.

Banging- to spy for someone else, most often for the benefit of the administration.

Headquarters(c) - the premises of the penitentiary complex, in which the offices of the colony employees (chief, deputies, operational workers, etc.) are located. Often the medical unit is located in the same room.

Stage(t) - a room for prisoners newly arrived at the colony (transporters), where they are kept in isolation from other prisoners of the correctional facility for several days.

Maybe such stories don’t need to be told, but it seems to me that they should be told, just to be aware that prison is not only our cheerful, smiling, inflexible political prisoners playing chess and monopoly with their fellow inmates. There is another, terrible thing, no one is safe from it.

And here’s the story: some parents ask us - why is our son sitting in a pre-trial detention center in a cell with “lowered” ones, and what will happen to him in the zone after that? Take action.

And we come to the interrogation room, and we sit there, and this guy is brought to us in a line of other prisoners. I, my permanent partner Lidia Borisovna Dubikova, an officer accompanying us. The guy doesn't look so great, he's very frail, he looks gloomy, his eyes are dull, he speaks incoherently and contently. He is over twenty years old. Student, in his last year of study. Ended up in a pre-trial detention center. I'll tell you why later. I'm still trying to understand the problem.

In general, at first everything was fine in the cell. There was a Russian watching, it was possible to live. Then the measure of restraint was changed for the Russian, and an Armenian became the person watching the cell. It got worse. And there was another Georgian... they showed, in general, an unhealthy interest. And once... once I was watching an erotic channel...

I say: calm down. I ask the officer: what else is there for the erotic channel in the pre-trial detention center? He: yes, there’s nothing like that, maybe there was an erotic program on a normal channel... Well, OK, I say, we’ll come back to the channel, but what was the unhealthy interest? Well,” the guy answers, “they forced us to be on duty for everyone, to clean the cell for everyone.” You can take turns cleaning, or all together, in different ways, but they didn’t want to...

The officer explodes: why didn’t you tell the employees right away when it started? You came here to the pre-trial detention center, the operational officers talked to you, explained what was happening, why didn’t you tell the longitudinal officer right away? Ugh!

The guy sits, drooping. Well, like complaining is somehow not good... Then he remembers: and I didn’t need their mobile phone, so I called a couple of times - they told me that I now owed them money, they forced me to call home and beg my parents for money . I did not want. They insisted. I told them all sorts of stories... made them up...

I say: what stories? Silent.

I say: okay. Let's move on to the erotic channel. What happened?

Well, that evening the erotic channel was turned on. Yes, I didn’t watch it at all, but they started teasing me, making all sorts of jokes... And, in general, they asked - but, for example, have you touched a woman’s genitals with your lips? I say: no, I don’t want to talk to you about this at all, but they ask again. They ask and ask. And they pestered me so much that I basically said - yes, just leave me alone. They say: really? And for how long? I say: well, five seconds... or ten.

They then first say: well, it won’t be long, it’s okay. And then...

I say: damn, but you knew you shouldn’t say that! Did you know?

The officer yells: but you knew you couldn’t say that! Did you know?

The guy says: well, I knew... I say: they beat you, so you said that? He says: no... just somehow with his jokes... well, I said... I thought they would leave me behind...

What happened then, he can’t or doesn’t want to say at all. I ask: was sexual violence used against you? He says no. (Who knows what really happened there, I don’t even want to know). In general, they said that it was the custom in prison that if you did it with a woman, you can do it with a man, they beat him and broke him out of his cell. Like, that’s it, goodbye.

They transferred him to another cell. There was a normal person watching, they felt sorry for the guy, they said that it was completely lawless how they treated him, like sit still. He seemed to relax. But no, then they say: I’m sorry, but the person in charge of the pre-trial detention center sent you so that you won’t be allowed into more than one boy’s cell anymore. In short, they broke him out of this cell too.

Well, the administration transferred him to the cell where he is now. It’s an unusual camera, there’s no road going through it, it’s a very low-profile camera. And bad fame will follow him to the colony. I say, Lydia Borisovna speaks, the officer says: watch your language! This is your main enemy! Haven’t you even told this whole story in this cell? He says: no, I won’t tell anyone anything else! Oh. OK Go. Hold on.

Leaves. I say: so what?

The officer says: we do what we can. There is special control over him. And during the assembly, if we go anywhere, we make sure that we don’t cross paths with representatives of the criminal subculture. And he sits in a glass in the car. We look after him as best we can. And it’s unlikely that they will send news about him to the zone: who needs him anyway?..

Lydia Borisovna and I say: oh well... we’re adults, the news will fly...

Well, then, says the officer, there is only one option left. If they give him less than five years, and if there are no violations of the regime, and if there is a place, we will leave him in the economic detachment. It's safer that way. Well, if they give you more than five, then alas. But the court will decide that... Of course, I wouldn’t want to ruin the guy’s fate. Something like this... maybe it will work out.

Oh, and I promised to tell you why the student was put in a pre-trial detention center. For hashish. Not for heroin, not for crocodile - for hashish. He came out of the entrance one day with a dose, and then the cops came. They write distribution. It seems that his friend turned him on to this matter: after the injury, the guy had a severe headache at times, and hashish seemed to relieve this pain. Well, occasionally, not that often. And he admitted the spread. Talked to myself. I ask: why? He says: the investigator promised to let him go, he believed the investigator...

I don’t have any special comments on this story. Well, yes, hashish. Well, yes, the guy is not a fighter. Well, yes, he didn’t even have the moral strength to complain - his “comrades” explained to him that this was a waste. But to ruin a person’s life for this damn hashish... well, it happens.