Preface
Am I a man of my time? The author of the story hesitates, shyly looks down, but eventually says: yes, I am a man of my time. I am the result of numerous social, cultural and technological changes in my era, which is why I consider myself to be a happy person to one degree or another. But not all people keep up with the times, and sometimes they seek salvation in perdition itself. And it doesn't matter: on the eve of 2100 or 2000. Time is changing, and a person may never find himself in it. So is the hero of the story…
 
One of the connecting rods
The fifth floor is a civil floor. Seriously, the realtor just told me so – civil. He also added, they say, the first and second are for people who are not shy enough, who like to be watched by pedestrians.  In June, poplar fluff reaches the third and fourth. I am not allergic, so I can easily do without such an event. I'm sitting on the quiet fifth, alone. In spring, you don't even need any alarm clocks in the shelter under the roof: a drop falling from the ceiling gives any alarm clock a hundred points ahead. But that's not the point now.
I decided to restore my memory the other day and please with a warm welcome, while I myself am still warm. 2100 is on the horizon, and I have the whole epoch in front of my eyes. I remember how in the preparatory group the children were looking at the digital board, and I was hitting the window. I remember how my classmates put on a virtual helmet at school, they were in other worlds, but somehow it was okay for me.  I remember at work they said that two-dimensional drawings were no longer required, customers should be given three-dimensional models, but I did not want to work in another plane. I remember, I remember, but it's been a long time since I remembered all this. And with the use of "honey" you will forget about a lot of things. I did not accept the era, but honey welcomed me... with open arms. It's just that with us, whoever did not go with the era, like a rod running around the world, went to the pharmacy for this medicine. No memory, no sadness, only a certificate of "shakiness" is needed.
It's twelve o'clock at night. It's time to walk through the frost. I'm too lazy to close the apartment – there's nothing to take out anyway. It seems like I just called the elevator, but it feels so strange, you know, like I forgot something. Yes, Maman said that honey affects memory... it's okay. To me, honey is both a wife, a child, and a mother. He replaces everything for me, even himself. Without that, I won't be there anymore. I would like to get to the first floor as soon as possible. There are literally a couple of steps to the stall. I didn't take a spoonful of honey in my mouth for three days, as if I wouldn't meet a squirrel on the way. 
The fourth floor. The elevator door opens. A woman comes in, a gorgeous madam. The dress emphasized everything that was needed, even a little bit that it shouldn't have. Sheepskin coat on top, leather boots on the bottom, a scared little boy on the right. It's hard not to fall in love with a statuesque woman, especially one who gave birth. I ask her name, and she examines me from the cape to the bald head, covers the child's ears with her sinewy hands. The woman chattered. First, a short list of insults, then something about unpaid alimony. What are you loading me for, Auntie? I can barely stand on my feet without your edification. She also smells disgusting. It is understandable, instead of a human head, she has a fish snout. A herring under a fur coat in a human body. An abomination. The only thing worse is the warm jelly. Although, maybe they can love herring, she learned to ride in the elevator. 
The third floor. I'm falling. I shouldn't have leaned on the elevator door. Only I fall extremely successfully – a man catches me. Of course, I am grateful to him, but he scared me badly. Just imagine my surprise: the elevator expands, at that moment my mother's yellowed headset and dad's folding sofa appear in it. The man's face is exactly mine, only without the stubble and the scar on his cheek. The bliss in the hands of the double did not last long: he confidently threw me at the feet of a stately woman. The man is unhappy that I have moved away from reality. What should I do? I left my grandmother, I left my grandfather… The doppelganger says it's time for me to go to my mother. I ask a nervous friend: "Father, where can I find this mother?" To which he sticks a piece of paper with the address. Thanks, man, I'm the only one who knows where the cemetery is. At least someone would help me in the world. Save me from advice, it's better to give me a penny. Give me a penny! I hit a man in the ear, and out of him, as if he were a piggy bank, a pile of change flies out. The magician! I'm trying to raise money, but my hands are shaking suspiciously…
The second floor. The doors were bustling again. There are enough strange people in the room as it is, and then a handkerchief man comes in. I ask the evil spirits to leave the area, but they are silent, they do not move. Scares me. I look at the handkerchief, and there is the following picture in it. Brown bears are wandering through the forest. One of them says that he found such an elixir that now he does not need to save fat for the winter. He says he doesn't need any sleep or food – the elixir will replace everything for him. Brown bears laugh at him, poke him with their paws. So the bear went wild and became a rod. I was afraid for the connecting rod. I'll tear off my mantle - away with worries. Well, the old lady looks at me: her eyebrows and mouth curve in a thin arc, and on her forehead there is a wreath with icons and a prayer. The boy clung to her on the spot. The kid whimpers, he calls her granny. She shoves nuts at him and reads a spell: the boy turned into a squirrel from that and attacked me. The squirrel is jumping on the head, trying to eat the brain, then the heart, but it doesn't work out. Wherever he dives, there is emptiness everywhere. It's a shame: why is the old woman doing this to the boy? Why is my own mother doing this to me? 
The first floor. I'm running out of this damn thing. But for some reason I find myself alone. All alone. No squirrel boy, no doppelganger, no old woman in a headscarf. Maybe I imagined dysfunctional neighbors? Nothing, I'm not used to it. Of course, it's bad for one person now, but it will definitely get better with honey.
How easy it is for the heart in the cold. It's a pity my nostrils are stinging from the cold. And what a sky, and the fireworks are festive! From above, multicolored lights fall on the balconies of the residents. Happy New Year to me, happy New Year! It's a sin not to take medicinal honey for such a thing.  
I'm already walking along the yellow brick road. Leads to a stall. I knock on the window, and the dragon's head comes out of it. 
– Uh. My throat is burning, and you're screwing around," he says. 
– You're a dragon. Your throat should be burning. 
The dragon scratched his head and asked,
"What do you want?"
– Honey. 
– My friend, who goes for honey on New Year's Eve? We currently have only baby food and mineral water from our products. You don't have to ask about the rest – it's empty. 
The dragon closed the window, and before that he blew a fiery breath and carried me away with a gust of wind to the devil knows where.
Okay, it's time to go home. So, which one is mine? All the houses are here as one. Gray blocks rise, they let their oppression go. Maybe they're all my home? I don't remember anything at all... My head is splitting. I've been without sleep for three days, running, jumping, and now I can't move. I'm going to lie down here in a snowdrift. It's soft and fluffy. It's good here: the overall atmosphere is cozy. For a minute... and I'll get up... for a minute... literally. And then you decide for yourself what to do with me. I wish myself a sweet sleep and a good night. The neighbors will think in the morning: "What a nightmare, a man died of frostbite." Take a bite! As if not so! Your connecting rod has fallen asleep with a well-deserved sound sleep.