
## Table of contents

And on the screen

Cupid

Guardian Angel

Charity

Diseases of our age

Ill one

In search of a world

New Age Threshold

Great Exodus

Veto

Virus

Ahead into the past

Life is ahead

Time of heroes

America speaks

Voice

Voices

State of Earth

Dao of Programming

Illusions of crowds

How fantasy heroes will battle with the Ancient Red Dragon

How fantasy heroes will install Windows

How fantasy heroes will brawl in a tavern

When the sun will rise

When whirlwind comes

When the Sleeper awakes

Copyright marasmus

Liar

Beloved one

Mage Nag

Dead city

World of God

Maybe

Maybe, father

Mutants of our age

We, the cats

Thought

On the crossroads

On the way to sun

Yet unfinished story of one spaceship

Ill mind

Unofficial appeal to Americans

Unofficial appeal to book publishers

Unofficial appeal to false judges

Unofficial appeal to politicians

Unofficial appeal to churchmen

Discordant

Similar ones

They uttered "no" to their homeworld

Weapons of our age

Warning: God!

Denying self-portrait

Performance

Plan 2020

Last word

Crime and punishment

Sentence

Enlightened ones of our age

Five in a boat, not counting the cat

Rituality

Born for life

Accident

Mass-media!

Real trifle

Scenario

Creators

Plant louse

Point of view

Thirtieth day

You came too late

God's logic is non-human

Who is Who

In the prison for a quarter of century

Thingy

Evolution

Expert

I am always alone

## Warranty

All texts, presented in the given book, are, besides other, the author's attempt to learn himself deeply, purely and better as far as possible through the creative process and are provided "as is" and without any warranty.

We are not responsible for any of the following events, as well as any other possible weird side effect, following them:

  1. Accidental change of your world-outlook.

  2. The ruin/transformation of everything you previously believed in and hold dear.

  3. Sudden inspiration, revelation, saturation, divination or any other "-ation" that is the result of your (and your only) mind's thoughts and soul's movements.

  4. The short inability to say anything meaningful the time you have just finished reading yet another portion of this legacy.

  5. The reader laughing hysterically.

  6. The reader unwillingly, but still due to actions of own spirit, gone sane/insane.

  7. The reader, pissing/peeping/singing from joy.

  8. The reader's sudden cry of happiness.

  9. The reader becoming free of so many unnatural social rituals and prejudices, causing havoc in the hearts of yet enslaved by the system.

  10. The reader's attempt to "spread the word" about how nasty-tasty this pile of papers is for you (and your home printer included).

  11. The reader's attempt to find out current author's dislocation for the purpose of communicating with him "face to face".

  12. The reader's decision to learn himself better through the creative process. The author would like to thank the reader in advance for his immense sense of humor, used in the process of consumption of aforementioned notice.

## And on the screen

A blow – and the opponent has bent. Running jump – and a kick in a stomach. The opponent falls down. A rattle from a throat. Blow. Blow. Blow.

He was finishing him off – beating the lying one. The rival – the enemy! – has no more forces to resist, even to rise up – and to strike back. He would surely strike back – if he had risen, of course. And that's why he should not be given that chance, he must be – finished off. He has been pursuing this bastard for so long... through half of a country... and has finally caught up. The destroyed family, his family... this wound was still bleeding. But it will be cured... when he will see his mortal enemy, begging of mercy on his knees – which he won't get. Ever.

This final triumph was so close already. Now that berk is already hardly creeping away from him, leaving a viscous trail of blood. A little bit of time – and there will be a triumph... his long-awaited triumph! This, surely, will not bring his family back – but nevertheless, this swine will get what he has deserved! His family has already faced the consequences – and only he still remained...

Another blow – and the enemy has stopped moving on the ground. Moved no more. Absolutely. Finally. Meet your death, bitch!

Final strike... He took a pistol from his hip-pocket. A gunpoint, set on a bent and lying still a man, a spiteful smile in eyes of the killer... Click.

Button click. A TV remote, thrown aside. No more! No more! No more!

Foolish action films! Murders, blood and revenge, animalistic rage and terrific hatred... On almost all of the channels. When they will finally stop broadcasting these slops? Only a handful of channels, speaking about culture, creativity, worthy human undertakings and achievements still live on – but are people accustomed to watching this? They are being fed with crap and assured that it's a food of gods, the way it should be, a significant cultural achievement of all developed countries. And some even believe that...

It's necessary to change this system! Mass-media need to seriously think on what they give to the people and of what they deprive. People need to think of what they would really like to see.

He will not stand aside. Tomorrow he will bring up this question at deputy meeting. Tomorrow he and his like-minded will tell their word against violence, against cruelty – even those exclusively cinematized. But will they be heard? Will they be listened to by millions of viewers, by each one of them? He hoped greatly that they will be. For so much depends on that –  on choices of everyone –  and this choice as well.

Sat down to watch TV for the first time in a month... And – take it, eat it, bless you. Fie! I'll better play and have fun with my child this day off. Yes, it's a right choice and a valuable contribution, and not some consumption of slops.

"Alex, let's go and play 'horses and rider's!"

"Wow, father! The new game, yes? Fantastic! Tell me, tell me about it quickly!"

"Yes, we'll now play with you in 'horses and riders', and then have a jog to the stadium and back. All right?"

"Certainly, pa! That will be great!"

"Fine. So, well, listen here. Game rules are really simple..."

26.12.2004

## Cupid

"Ave! Did you check yesterday thought-mail? I left there a couple of new messages, concerning our couple and temporary-spatial coordinates for their potential meeting."

"Aye-aye, comrade sergeant, I checked on that. But you know that I have little experience yet, afraid to miss my target. And what exactly happens to people when you do miss – they haven't yet told this to us in the Academy, we were only given a generic induction, concerning safety measures and use of bows."

"Well, that depends on how you miss it," his current curator answered to the cadet with a smile. "It's possible to miss the way that you will feel sorry for all their lives, and they will never remember you by either a kind word or a warm thought. For example, if you strike their heads instead of hearts, they will respect each other with a guarantee – but hardly will pass hand-in-hand through, as we say, fire, water, and trumpets of Jericho. If your arrows hit their stomach spot, they will certainly love without fail – yet not each other, but their own refrigerators, especially at night, especially after 6 P.M. And if you happen to strike, well, below their stomach – the flame of passion in their relations will be able to burn them alive, but a warm flame of love will never spark. And our mission is to give them love. So – keep training with phantoms and don't miss." With these words the man with white wings and golden feather on his head, that was called as a sergeant, approvingly clapped his workmate in new given to both of them a mission and stood close to him at a shooting loophole of the fortress, observing with a smile how curly-headed pink morning clouds keep floating below.

"Thanks for explanations, comrade sergeant. I will surely consider that in my training!"

"And also when you pull a bowstring, move your wings back as well so the tension will get stronger, and impulse of Cupid will exceed one hundred of spiritual units upon hitting. If it gets below that value – they can indifferently pass by each other and will hardly have anything between them in the future. And if it gets greater than one hundred – it will always work, verified by experience."

"Comrade Sergeant, and why should this happen near a bus-stop? You wrote that to me in thought-mail yesterday. I, certainly, formed today a path for him there, made arrangements with colleagues, estimated times, gave him a couple of necessary thoughts, even shown a dream about this upcoming meeting. Yet I still don't understand – why are they supposed to meet with each other there instead of a nearby park, it's located not far away and there are fewer people there, it would be more comfortable for them to communicate with each other afterward."

"And this, pal, was not my will, but the higher one. I am too small and inexperienced" myself to solve tasks like management of destinies," sergeant burst out laughing. "Department of Destinies Control provided me with all required data when I was appointed to this task. And there, as you well know, serious pals are working, and everything turns out to be calculated and verified by them in advance. It's you, pals, who should be taught almost everything, even how to properly hold one's bow so that tears don't splash from one's eyes. So, should I demonstrate you how to strike a heart of humans so that their souls sing in joy afterward?"

"Aye-aye, comrade sergeant, please demonstrate!"

"Well, pal, look thoroughly!" skilled Angel-curator answered to the cadet, taking his bow from a belt. "Do you see phantoms of two people, created by me on that cloud? And now I just – w-h-o-s-h!" and loudly singing in the air arrow accurately pierced hearts of two targets that were standing one after another.

"My God!" cadet exclaimed in surprise. "Two in a row! Cupid impulse equals to two thousands of spiritual units!"

"Study, pal! Only that way they can be laid together in a row!" laughed the sergeant.

***

Today – if such a concept is applicable for worlds where time goes non-linearly – it was very briskly in the Academy. One can imagine! First spiritual-battle experience is not a joke at all, especially if there is a responsibility for a couple of two future lovers, lying on your wings.

Angela cadets, who were yet to be engaged into their first battle, accurately soared above the ground, holding bows of golden color in their hands. These bows along with specifically shaped for them arrows were the well-known invention of the legendary engineer Cupid, who has graduated from Angelic Military Academy with honors a lot of eons ago, and their most valued ability was to strike humans to death – in the sense that after direct hit in their hearts all negative feelings, created by opponents of Angels, were gradually dying away, obeying to imperious call of born sincere love. Actually, many people usually called these masters of arrows and bows by name of the inventor – even though this was incorrect, for each of them possessed his unique name, granted from above and difficult to pronounce in common for humans language.

This Academy was well-known in the Seven Worlds. Reminding unapproachable fortress, soaring in the air over the clouds, which were dimming the sky, it was a home for many of the best military engineers and smithy of the highest class of warriors. And one of these classes were such Cupids.

"Hold on! Quietly! Stand up in the air above the ground by the length of wings!" Elderly colonel, who has come through many battles with demons and was deprived by them of a half of his wing, was giving orders to cadets, who have arrived at firing practice, walking by parade-ground made from shining stones. "Divide into pairs for training firing practice! Move on to loopholes!"

Colonel walked to and fro from one loophole to another, checking combat readiness of his future soldiers and correcting from time to time their fighting stance, the position of wings, the validity of chosen targets, the tension of arrows and a lot of other extremely important aspects in a life of each and every real Cupid.

"Is everyone ready?" he asked at last.

"Aye-aye, comrade colonel!" hundreds of Angels, standing near castle loopholes, answered him as a chorus.

"Fire at will!"

30.08.2017

## Guardian Angel

"Yes?" my snow-white Guardian Angel turned to me and smiled warmly. "Have you called for me?"

"I... hm... to tell the truth, I wasn't totally confident that you were listening to me," I mumbled.

"I always do listen to you and hear you," the Angel said. "But you currently, unfortunately, not."

"So... do you want to say that you have nothing like a lunch break or anything like that?" I was surprised.

"No," replied the Angel. "I have a need for neither sleep nor rest. It's you, people, who prefer to sleep with eyes open widely".

"You mean that you are always at work?" I guessed.

"Well, yes," my dear Angel replied indulgently. "I am in a service to the God."

"And how do you fare there... well, in general?" I found nothing better than to ask that.

"Well and good," the Angel answered. "Dry and warm. Even though there are no millions of options to choose from here. It's you, mankind, who will soon have to choose at last."

"To choose what, exactly?" I asked.

"Destiny. Life or death. God or Devil. Light or Darkness. Whatever you name it, the essence stays the same. Well..." and the Angel became silent for a second, "you, fortunately, understand that well."

"I do," I answered. "A pity, though, that I don't always hear you."

"It's all in your powers and in desire," and the Angel smiled again. "Such is my job, actually, to always hear you and help you to find the God."

"And what prevents you from doing that right now?" I made my next question.

"Him, mostly," and the Angel has shown his wing on the left. "Well, and sometimes you too, when start doing nonsense."

"Who's that, him?" I asked hastily, and only then have noticed the Imp, standing nearby, "that black one?"

"Well, it's only now he looks like that," replied my Angel. "But he's able to pretend to look as oh-so-white in times, like a chameleon. See, how he stares at me right now?" and the Angel smiled warmly and pointed his wing to the left again.

"I take it that he's angry?" I questioned my Angel.

"Yes, he's like that, from time to time. He has his job too, after all. And he's too will be judged, as well as all of us."

"Judged in what sense?" I misunderstood.

"Oh, you don't know yet, do you?" my Angel was surprised. "There will be a revision of the universe soon, and the Dread Judgment of the Lord, as you call it. I would, however, rather name it Just Judgment."

"And what will be after the Judgment?" I asked.

"Life or death," replied the Angel, "for you, for me, and for him" – and he pointed his wing on Imp once again.

"You mean, you can die too?" I was stunned, "Are Angels not immortal?"

"Not for the Judgment. If the Tempter of any man, guarded my ones, similar to me, prevails, the Tempter survives, and Angel and the man become history. If the Guardian Angel prevails – then he as well as his ward survive, and the Tempter becomes history instead. It's that simple. Such is the Court."

"And the people, who have turned to the path of evil, betray their Angels as well?" I was terrified.

"Alas, indeed. And try to feel now," and my beautiful Angel stirringly looked into my eyes, "how it's – to die for immortal one?"

"And... how many Angels are going to die like that?"

"Under preliminary forecasts – many," and the Angel sighted sorrowfully. "But..." and he became inspired once again, "everything can still be changed."

"If people will hear their Angels and step away from the dark path?" I questioned.

"Yes," said the Angel, "if they would prevail over their nature. There is very little time left," he added.

"Little time left?"

"When clock's arrows will be on the top," and Angel has become silent for a moment, "very interesting events will start to happen."

"The world will be changing?"

"Definitely."

"Can I help people realize what is awaiting them?" I asked hopefully.

"Certainly. It's all in your forces and in the hands of God. And I, too, won't abandon you, for certain."

"How I do love you, my pure Angel!" I have exclaimed with tears in the eyes.

"I know," he smiled mildly. "Come to me, allow me to embrace you in my wings."

"Thank you, Angel, thank you so much for hearing me and caring of me! Let us never part from each other!"

"Yes, let it be so," my Angel has tenderly answered, gently covering me with his white wings. "Let's start to always hear each other in the long last..."

18.10.2010

## Charity

Charity... what a tempting word! Creation of good deeds in the name of the neighbor and the distant one in favor of him. A universal, socially approved way to atone for your spiritual sins, at the same time being known as the most generous, extremely decent, surprisingly compassionate... A fake mask of care for thieves and lawless. You will love this one.

There was a time when your business was just starting... A terrible time when everyone was ready to cheat and even kill anyone who has tried to cross his path. The country was just starting to commercialize, selling itself piece by piece. At first, morality was thrown out of the house as the windiest girl, then dignity was seduced, and love managed to commit suicide by herself. Exactly this ninth wave of chaos and destruction helped you to get out of the darkness into a new wonderful world of buying and selling. You have been selling lots of stuff, starting from bubble gum and "Playboy" magazines for teenagers and ending with firearms for local "authorities"! You liked the very idea of being able to buy everything, including people.

As is well known, the one who has the biggest gun is always right, right? And you truly wanted to thank your former mentors with just the same methods. Probably, precisely in those moments, when you were watching how two criminal groups, in one of which you were recently a member, were shooting each other brutally and methodically, sparing neither bullets nor cars, something stirred somewhere far away within you, something changed. At that very moment, the idea of charity was born inside you for the first time.

Then there was a lot of very different years to come. Your natural sense of smell and firm grip helped you to survive in this meat grinder, to become a local "authority" and a "roof" for others who were just starting their way to nowhere. Of course, from time to time you had to make contributions to own aching conscience – that's why you took up the weekly offerings for the temples. Most certainly, you didn't believe in any gods – but that's how all your business colleagues behaved, and, besides, you just wanted to feel somewhat safe – to keep hoping that such life's luck will accompany you further. Hope is a powerful force, indeed... And what wouldn't one do to make his soul silent, right?

And then the time of troubles was over, it was the time to take the oath to the new leader, and you gained the opportunity to climb even higher – straight into the power circles. For, after all, even there – especially there! – money does its dirty work very well. By the time it all happened, you had almost made a lifetime fortune – drug and firearms dealing has always been a profitable business, to say the least. Just a dozen small offerings to the right people – and you are already familiar with the higher echelons of power. Is it not the devil's luck?

Soon you legalized – the inevitable step for the criminally acquired capital in the conditions of indicative witch hunting. And then you again remembered of the charity and donated a small share of the stolen money for the construction of a couple of playgrounds in your old schoolyard. It's so sweet to remember own childhood at times! When you had been watching in person the result of your feats of generosity, you had almost shed a tear. They wrote about you in newspapers and presented a short interview on one of the local TV channels, and your new business skyrocketed. What wouldn't one do for the sake of the neighbor!

Now at times you publicly under the gaze of television cameras give to some unknown dunce from the crowd your new gold-plated watches – not really new, of course, but specifically purchased and worn in search of a suitable case, as if reminding these slavers that they all will not live for long. From time to time you transfer several million dollars to organized by you charities and various funds of helping the starving children of Africa so that the commoners can write about your generosity in their newspapers and money can later return to their rightful places. Sometimes you even help to organize the repair works of some dilapidated Opera house, so they could at least wash the floor and whitewash the ceilings – introduce the young generation to the culture, so to speak. And sometimes a couple of kids from a forgotten shelter of the humiliated and insulted ones gets their penny so that they don't starve to the death before your feat is imprinted in newspapers. And what wouldn't one do for the sake of his distant one, truly?

Since these times you have always remembered about charity – been sharing with the world, so to speak. Spitting out undigested excesses of your wealth. You became a very influential person – "oligarch", as every impassable cattle usually calls you, progressive and successful ones. But whether owners of factories, newspapers, ships, and yachts really care of what all kinds of plebs dare to think about them? This generally approved charity was created specifically for plebs – let them think that they are thought about and be content with it. After all, you are certainly not going to share with them all that was acquired by overwork during a long term of theft and injustice! All in all, the charity was invented for the purpose of giving people like you the opportunity to temporarily feel much better than you actually deserve.

You have been thinking about God a lot lately. Maybe he really exists – after all, who else would help you to arrange such a grand life? Or, maybe it was not him but someone else – someone who truly desires this kind of pseudo-philanthropy and false sacrifices of human ego and selfishness? You don't know the right answer to this day after day more and more tormenting question. Yet something deep inside you moves and shakes more and more with each passing day as if in anticipation of something terrible that is approaching, something truly dreadful for the ones like you, false-gifts-bringers...

14.09.2011

## Diseases of our age

The present document confirms that Main Ministry of Health in association with different well-known medics of various countries have formed a list of diseases, common for the modern generation of individuals, calling themselves "Homo Sapiens".

We, authors of this list, don't apply for completeness of description and characteristic of all illnesses, so casual for individuals of our generation, but still hope that given classification will be able to clarify the already uneasy question of preservation of so-called "spiritual", as well as so-called "physical" health.  Let us note that due to the exceptional conditionality of similar division we are unable to classify separate illnesses as belonging exclusively to the first or second group, for, in fact, they are a consequence of infringement of processes of healthy individual activity (HIA) as a whole.

The list of diseases of our century in addition with their brief description follows.

1. "Spiteful"

General description. As a rule of thumb, the indicated ailment is spontaneously arising in a short-term duration by its nature, however, in some neglected cases it can become a permanent trait of personality. Medical science hasn't been able to define till now a constant enough and a certain list of reasons causing represented disease, although specific observations have nevertheless been collected. It has been noticed that given illness in its permanent form can be triggered by such diseases as "Ugly Duckling", "Victim" and several other illnesses with similar semiology, however, similar law has its exceptions for the reasons unknown, which gives us reasons to make an assumption of the soul-genetical predisposition of separate individuals to this disease.

Symptoms. Those suffering from this disease can be distinguished by their increased irritability, the pessimism of views on surrounding reality (independently of surrounding them an objective reality), being the consequence of spontaneously manifested by them hatred and anger, concerning other individuals being in contact with them.

Treatment methods. For the purpose of treatment of current illness, universal revitalizing remedy "Kindness" has been proven as a most effective mean. In especially heavy forms of a clinical course usage of antibiotic "Suggestion" becomes possible. Contraindicated for application is the vaccine "Humiliation".

2. "Hated"

General description. In its semiology, this disease is similar to manifestations of "Spiteful" one, which has given some experts a reason to consider this disease as its aggravated form. It should be noted that easy forms of this illness can cause along with "Spiteful" a set of other illnesses, including "Ugly Duckling", "Fearful" (mainly in the form of the protective reaction of individual), "Star-like" and especially "Lord".

Symptoms. The extremely negative attitude of the individual almost to each and every aspect of manifestation and functioning of surrounding reality. Easy forms of the disease have a spontaneous character on its manifestation in the form of the negative reaction of the individual to this or that vital circumstance. Heavy forms of the illness are characterized by a permanent negative attitude of the individual to other individuals and various aspects of manifestation of objective reality as it is.

Treatment methods. Universal revitalizing remedy "Kindness" was considered as the only effective mean of curing (especially in case of an easy form of course of a disease), which usage, however, can be restricted to the majority of patients due to artificially high prices, formed by huge overestimated demand along with significantly lower amounts of supply.

3. "Fearful/Timid"

General description. According to the latest researches, the cause of the emergence of this illness lies in the insufficient production of a "Self-confidence" hormone in the organism of the individual. By its signs specified illness is almost an exact copy of the previously discovered "Timid" disease, so in this connection experts in the field have made a decision to consider both of them as one. It's necessary to clearly distinguish forms of protective reactions of the organism, trying to overcome this disease, from the traits of a "Hero" condition, even though they can look extremely similar in external forms of manifestation. Along with that, it's also necessary to note that is some situations symptoms of manifestation of this illness can be similar by results to a positive effect of "Reason" enzyme, which can considerably complicate the analysis of an objective condition of the patient.

Symptoms. A symptom of this disease is a permanently showed by the individual fear in various vital circumstances in case of the making of decisions, performing of actions.

Treatment methods. Due to the impossibility of artificial synthesis of "Self-confidence" hormone for the treatment of this disease usage of antibiotic "Suggestion" is recommended.

4. "Ugly Duckling"

General description. Given disease is most characteristic for individuals at age of twelve-eighteen years. The main feature of this disease lies in the possibility of self-treatment of an individual by achieving a certain level of high consciousness. Medical science still hasn't determined exact reasons of similar self-healing of some individuals, however, an assumption does exist that reasons for similar curing are in fact activated processes of fast synthesis of hormones "Tranquility", "Good nature" and "Self-confidence" in an organism of a former patient. Except for cases of congenital spiritual-genetic predisposition, the reasons for the formation of this disease can be:

  * Communication of yet healthy individual with another individual, infected with diseases "Spiteful" and "Hated".

  * Communication of yet healthy individual with another individual, infected with disease "Victim".

  * Frequent injection of vaccine "Humiliation" by one of the other individuals, close to yet-to-be-ill one.

Symptoms. A well-known trait of patients is a permanently lowered emotional condition, spontaneously shown complaints and grumbling about their destiny and similar aspect of the spiritually-emotional state. In especially continuous and hard cases of course of an illness, a commission by the individual of irreversible act "Suicide" becomes possible.

Treatment methods. For the purpose of curing of this disease, universal revitalizing remedy "Kindness" has proven to be extremely effective, as well as usage of artificially synthesized hormone "Tranquility". Usage of hormones "Good nature" and "Self-confidence" in this case is also highly desirable but is not achievable due to the impossibility of their artificial laboratory synthesis. Especially effective can become a treatment of the patient with specified medicines by relatives of the mentioned individual along with the application of universal revitalizing remedy "Kindness". Healing is considered most effective before the patient has entered a phase of consciousness known as "Adult", after which efficiency of treatments starts to quickly degrade.

5. "Victim"

General description. This illness represents one of the possible forms of development of "Ugly Duckling" disease. Individuals of all ages, nationalities, and religions are subject to be infected by this disease. It's highly recommended to distinguish sporadic exacerbations of the disease in question from symptoms of the "Hero" condition, that is characterized by own readiness to sacrifice welfare/health/life for the good of others.

Symptoms. A feature of manifestation of this illness lies in a specific transition of consciousness of the individual into a still insufficiently studied condition, which consequence is a distortion of a traditional picture of perception of objective reality. Diseased patients begin to discover in all occurring events some sort of "ill fate of their destiny", "intrigues of the haters, desiring to prevent their great plans from fulfilling" according to their own ways of expression of this state of their consciousness. The continuous clinical course leads to a permanent decrease of the general emotionally background of the patient, which in some extreme cases can lead to a commission of the irreversible act "Suicide".

Treatment methods. Due to the insufficient study of a state of consciousness, transition into which occurs in the process of this illness, effective enough methods of treatment have still not been developed. In this regard, a recommended for application was considered antibiotic "Suggestion", as well as universal revitalizing remedy "Kindness".

6. "Know-it-all"

General description. By its traits, aspects of the course and semiology this illness is similar to the "Star-like" one.

Symptoms. Characteristic of this illness is the increased arrogance and self-conceit of an individual, spontaneously or (in case of heavy forms) permanently demonstrated by him.

Treatment methods. Periodic application of "Humiliation" vaccine appears to be most effective in the treatment process. It's necessary to notice that doses of injected vaccine should be strictly coordinated with the attending physician, who is familiar with general features of the inner world of the patient, otherwise disease can radically alter its form and transform into "Ugly Duckling" one. The specified vaccine is recommended for application exclusively by those individuals who are close to the patient because is cases of attempts of its usage from other unfamiliar people active counteraction to these attempts from the side of a patient can become the reason of emergence of a "Spiteful" disease.

7. "Star-like"

General description. It has been discovered by medical science that, unlike the "Know-it-all" illness, the current disease has arisen exclusively in the modern age. Characteristic of this disease is the greatest susceptibility to it of those individuals who have reached so-called "high social status" and are well-known to large groups of other individuals.

Symptoms. Symptoms of an arising illness are the neglect shown by the individual to other, ever-growing self-conceit and aggression. Signs of a constant infection of a patient with given disease are even more growing self-assurance and aggression, which can be taken for symptoms of "Spiteful" illness by inexperienced doctors, with a gradual degradation of an illness to a chronic state "Lord".

Treatment methods. Much like in case with "Know-it-all" disease, the most fruitful means in fighting against illness is the application of "Humiliation" vaccine, but it should be noted, that doses of injected vaccine, in that case, should be considerably increased. Besides, effective application of this vaccine becomes possible not only from the side of persons, close to a patient.

8. "Lord"

General description. Medical science has been unable to establish an exact time period of the first emergence of this illness as signs of its manifestation can be found in ancient centuries very far from us. This illness is a culmination of the development of diseases in a branch "Know-it-all" – "Star-like" – "Lord", its final stage. As the illness is a very heavy form of a "Star-like" disease, it practically does not give into treatment. In this regard, it's possible to say that these infected patients are in fact doomed.

Symptoms. Symptoms of this illness are extremely risen self-conceit along with a total defiance to both health and life of other individuals, permanently shown "megalomania", aspiration to force life to go exclusively by a path favorable to the individual (which is, as modern science has proved it, is not only impractical, but also a totally unnecessary task). Patients show no signs of any doubts in the relation of the correctness of their position, feel no pity and sorrow when using/killing others for the sake of illusionary goals seen only by them, and being always, in this regard, unreachable.

Treatment methods. In the majority of cases, specified illness is not subject to healing. Indirect, though almost ineffective mean in a question of curing of the individual from this disease and some social consequences, can be considered only the isolation of patients in houses for mad at early stages of disease's progress.

9. "Nostalgic"

General description. This illness has been known to mankind from far antiquity, and almost only individuals of "elderly" age are subject to be infected by it. Probably, this particular disease is included in the so-called "generation gap" problem.

Symptoms. Signs of manifestation of the disease in question are the glorification of ideals/ideas/views/way of life of a generation, to which a patient belongs, in comparison with another modern one. As extreme forms of disease's manifestation a contempt for younger modern generation along with a desire to "return the good old days" –  which, as modern physical science has proved, is simply impossible due to mechanics of functioning of a time continuum – should be considered.

Treatment methods. Universal revitalizing remedies "Kindness", "Care" and "Support" should be considered as only effective means of treatment.

10. "Fanatical"

General description. Along with "Nostalgic" illness, this disease has been familiar to mankind since old age but has been classified as a disease only recently. Due to aspects of its manifestation this disease is practically always accompanied by ones from a "Know-it-all" – "Star-like" – "Lord" branch. Most often ones affected with this illness are religious figures of all types of beliefs and religions.

Symptoms. Symptoms of manifestation of this illness are similar to the ones of "Know-it-all" – "Star-like" – "Lord" branch.

Treatment methods. The only possible mean having a chance to weaken the power of disease is a "Suggestion" antibiotic.

11. "Idiot"

General description. This illness represents itself a final point, to which the progress of any previously mentioned disease can once lead.

Symptoms. Low/extremely low/absent possibilities of any adequate activity and healthy thinking.

Treatment methods. Modern science possesses no knowledge of methods of overcoming of this disease. We, as world medics, can only recommend all patients not to lead themselves to a similar critical form of a course of own illnesses.

12. "Hero"

General description. Representatives of medical science still have not come to an unequivocal conclusion of whether it's necessary to consider semiology described below as an illness itself, or if it's not an illness at all, but a very specific, still extremely poorly studied condition of human consciousness, which was possessed only by a small number of people throughout the entire human history.

Symptoms. Symptoms of this condition are the overwhelming feeling of love of individual to the entire world that surrounds him, the aspiration to reduce the suffering of others, giving them disinterested aid and all forms of support. It's surprising that this desire is not based on achievement of any proprietary purposes as it can be in the case with the "Lord" illness. For the organism of the individual in this state, a continuous highest synthesis of "Tranquility", "Good nature" and "Self-confidence" hormones is considered normal. The obligatory requirement of origin of this state is a presence in the organism of an individual of a "Joy" enzyme. Cases of infection of individuals in this state by any of the aforementioned disease are unknown to a medical science.

Treatment methods. We, as representatives of uniform medical science, find it difficult to provide any comments concerning treatment methods for this illness and even doubt the very possibility of classification of this condition as an illness itself.

10.09.2005

## Ill one

"So you are saying "love". And what's a thing is that, exactly? Did anyone ever touch it with his hands? A pure physiology is that so-called love of yours, and nothing more than that!  Actually, the most advanced scientists of our technological century have just managed to prove recently that love is no more than a certain sort of physical indisposition, caused by a higher than normal grade of certain hormones in the blood of man's body... Mad shining of human eyes, frankly idiotic smiles on their faces, absolutely unhealthy euphoria, lack of concentration, impartiality, and ability to the cold-blooded analysis of objective reality... it's truly a disease, is it not?"

"Do you understand of where are you going and where you will finally come?"

"Oh, don't you worry so for my destiny, I beg you – I do perfectly understand everything! The degree of Dr. Sci. Biol. does mean something after all, yes?"

"It means nothing in another world."

"I would, you know, be quite satisfied even with this one. For the beginning."

"For the beginning of the end?"

"For the beginning of ultimate triumph of scientific and exclusively rational approach in all spheres of human relations, certainly. And, well, "bionics and psychopathy of feelings" as advanced branch of neurobiology. Love in its essence is, in fact, no more than a certain fiction, which has been thought up by these silly romantic poets and other crazies. The physiological inclination of genders can be simply described from the point of view of the endorphins-biotic analysis of molecular processes, taking place in organisms of individuals under test..."

"You never truly loved anyone, did you? That's why you won't allow this to others as well."

"Oh, mind you, mind you! None of us forbids you from "loving" each other even eight times a day. Just don't name banal physiological demands with such a term."

"And what about the spiritual relationship of close souls?"

"No souls have ever existed. Neither you, nor I, nor anyone else has it. The matter is, as they say, still a matter even in Africa. In truth, all our existence is no more than some kind of fiction. Casual combination of circumstances, if you prefer. Unpredictable opportunity, which, in compliance with the theory of random numbers..."

"It turns out that you are random and casual as well?"

"No, on the contrary, it's you who are casual! And we only skillfully support this sort of illusion in you."

"But... how... who are you?"

"We are the foreign thoughts. Silly, insignificant ones... yet so annoying and convincing... And you are the pawns in our hands. We govern over you through other people who have already been enslaved by us..."

"You! Back off, infection!"

"You are casual... casual... casual... Everything is random... random... random... There is no you... there is no love... there is no joy... there is no light... there is no future... there are only us... us... us..."

***

"Faugh, damn it! What a horrific dream!" muttered Vasily, clearing his eyes. "That's all due to a constant sleep debt, I guess. Silly lecturer keeps on muttering some nonsense behind a chair... one can easily fall down asleep here."

"Vasya, hey, Vasya! What's that – were you sleeping?" and Lenka slightly stuck her neighbor – and, by a total nonrandom combination of circumstances her beloved as well, a hand sideways. "Have you heard of what a lecturer was saying? He says that love was recently classified by scientists as an illness, and was even assigned a certain number in the scientific literature. Do you believe him, Vasya?"

"May he get off!" Vasily waved his hand. "He probably never loved anyone in his life himself, and won't allow for others as well. Listen... let's go to the cinema just after a lecture?"

"All right!" Lenka smiled, and put her head to Vasily's shoulder, having languidly looked in his eyes. "Darling..." she whispered gently.

"My only one..." he responded with all his soul.

12.04.2013

## In search of a world

The fast-fast running, from all available powers. He must escape – he can do no other. Info-scanner supplied him with solid data about the area surrounding him for thousands of meters around, but it still had a great shortcoming – it couldn't provide the location of living beings. Only the information of the area – any tilt angle of any hillock and a tree, types of growing plants, land's relief – shortly saying, lots of useless stuff. But it didn't show the most important thing, and this became obvious only recently. Certainly, he still had a thermal sensor – a faithful companion of any dimension traveler – but it was useless almost the same way! After all, who could have possibly imagined that he will be thrown here and in that time period!

The only thing that could possibly rescue him were his own feet and capabilities of own "jet satchel", working on liquid hydrogen. The last invention of physical science! Unsurpassed movement possibilities! Travel in a flash of time! Blah-blah-blah... Don't know what, but modesty definitely wasn't in the list of other numerous dignities of physicists of the Central Institute of Learning. Everything that this satchel was capable of is a half an hour flight above the ground at twenty-thirty meters altitude, and afterward, it could be safely sent to rest in peace in a warehouse for a new recharge. Actually, the root of the problem was that it had enough charge only for two-three minutes of travel...

Ten thousand meters... nine and a half... five hundred... four... They are getting close. He won't escape that way. That's it, the last chance of survival... He activated his "unsurpassed movement possibility". The last chance of rescue... Stars in the eyes... dizziness... smack of blood in the mouth... He has to pay for this possibility. Whistle and roar behind his back, a throw up and forward through space, whistling of air in the ears...

Ten meters... twenty... twenty-five... enough. He turned info-scanner on once again. Now you will be of great help to me, buddy! Now we shall quickly locate disposition of our "Wild Boar". Ten kilometers for a scanner is a pure trifle. And for him, ten thousand meters is really not a joke if they must be passed in two-three minutes term... Only to get to it, only to be able to escape, and his beloved "Wild Boar" will welcome him again. He will leave from here – it's not his place. In this world and at this time.

Oh, what funny creatures he has met! He didn't recognize them at first – was idly standing, silly staring, lost lots of precious seconds... It's strange, but he has recognized the one whom he has met in this time only already being pursued in a run. Yes, he remembered them. Once in childhood in the computer base of his father's spaceship, he came across a new fragment of still unfamiliar to him text:

"Information code: 1231256451.

Information type code: 534543254.

Section code: 534535.

Information type: general usage.

Access: public.

Cryptography method: none.

Enciphering: not applied.

Source: information banks of the Central Institute Of Learning.

Title: "Prehistoric inhabitants of the planet Earth, Milky Way Galaxy. Fauna. Dinosaurs."

Everything was clear for him by that time except the last three sentences.

Dinosaurs... Here's one of them before his eyes – behind his back, to be exact. Two hundred kilometers per hour, a wild roar of air in the ears... At least his space suit protects him from such "unsurpassed moving". He was escaping. Tyrannosaur (for some reason he was confident that it was exactly him) could not run with such speed no matter what. They were divided by several millions of years yesterday, and today – only by distance. An extremely short distance.

Forward, forward, forward. He has no time for hesitation. Maximum possible acceleration, one-two minutes before the ending of air travel... A sharp peep of a sensor. Ten seconds before the ending of flight... Nine... eight... seven... Not it's time for landing. Turning off engines. Turned-in feet. Sharp push and collision with the ground.

And then he cried from a sharp outbreak of pain in feat and mentally cursed himself with last imaginable words for own nonsense – he still hasn't learned to land down normally for the last year, even though he was so proud of earned rank "Space pioneer. Class: veteran". At least he operated his "Wild Boar" much better. Not every rookie could be proud of the received on a year-term basis skill class "veteran", after all!

So, nine kilometers are already behind – somewhat about five hundred meters still remained. Yes, here it is – accurate and reliable radio signal of the beacon of his vessel visible on the info-scanner. Five hundred twenty-four meters on a straight line. Yes, exactly that way he was going to run. Only his right foot somewhat badly obeys him... No matter, forward! Periodic short-term jumps on one foot. He was reaching for his spaceship...

Battened-down locks. Emergency activation of engines. Dark enormous silhouette which has appeared on the horizon. Quicker, quicker, quicker! Now he is already under the defense of "Wild Boar", but for this patrol starfighter, the beastie that has appeared on sight and was now quickly closing the distance could be a serious opponent. Therefore, he has to leave this planet, to go to another world – and another time.

Quicker, quicker, quicker! His hands operated automatically, needing no additional brain control – more than once or twice performed work of the traveler of dimensions, space pioneer. So, the analysis of galactic location... star system Miracle, planet Stigs. So, vessel's planetary coordinates... I know it already! Now, further... Calculation of the trajectory and take-off parameters from the planet... Faster, faster, computer, – time presses on, time does not wait.

All done. Preparation of weapons system... No way! Not these pity guns will not help him while several minutes are required for their activation, a luxury which he does not possess. Next, next, next! Flight point – planet's orbit. Yes, let's get out into orbit, and then decide what to do next. Finally, the calculation of parameters is completed. Permission for launch? Yes, yes – I give that permission! Launch, launch, launch! Faster! Five hundred meters to the menace... Do it!

Push. Shake-up. Push again. Once more shake-up. Hitting with a head. Pain. Oblivion...

***

Slowly opened eyes. A terrible headache... Where is he? What's with him? He looked around. Habitual terminals, control panels... "Wild Boar" – painfully familiar word came from the depth of his consciousness. His vessel, his loyal friend, time and again helping him in cosmic spaces. Him, bearing a proud name of the pioneer...

It turns out that he is alive then. He is alive? Alive! Have been rescued?

It's necessary to understand where he is now along with a ship. A lonely though – "alive" at the tip of the tongue, steps towards the navigational terminal, a shaking here and there head, a stream of blood coming from the nose... He quickly inputs the query. Five, ten seconds...

"Inquiry number 1432435623.

Onboard computer of a space star probe vehicle "Wild Boar" class patrol fighter.

Location: star system Miracle, the orbit of planet Stigs.

Code of orbit's coordinates: 65466456".

Finally, he got it. Planet's orbit. Before making such an unsuccessful landing with a head into a wall, he has managed to set a ship's course and the vessel has safely orbited. For how much he has been moving in orbit? He has darted a fleeting glance at the time sensors. Second, two, three... His jaw started dropping slowly.

What?! He wiped his eyes. No, gears cannot mislead him – the universal decoder of time streams, invented by experts, could accurately and reliably detect a time interval in which he was present, and therefore his owner as well. But... but this? Plain letters and symbols, which have now gathered into totally senseless lines...

"Time streams counting type: zero years from our era on the planet Earth, Milky Way galaxy. Year: 3056"

Three thousand fifty-sixth year of our era in the earthly chronology! He departed from Earth into this system and it was two thousand two hundred seventy-fifth year, and now... three thousand? It's impossible! Or... the collapser of time has been activated?

Collapser of time – the distorter of time streams, which allowed to make jumps into the past. The latest top invention. He was one of the few others who has received a right to mount this device into his vessel. He deserved it – but the task, given to him and other similar freelancing space rangers by the United Galactic Council for tasks of colonization of outer worlds and resource supply of distant systems, was uneasy. Yet the reward was also great – the war cruiser under own command and such an amount of credits that would suffice for ten normal lives.

Time jump, exploration of worlds in the past, accumulation, and storage of information into data banks of the vessel... Scientists hoped to solve problems of resources exhaustion in various star systems by transportation of cargoes in time – a grandiose and unpredictable idea at the same time. He was granted only a patrol vessel – fast and maneuverable, yet totally improper for any other purposes except for research of cosmic spaces. His goal was only to collect information – which is exactly what he has been doing until recent events.

So, the collapser of time was activated without precalculations. But it was designed only for travels into the past, but now... into the future, through several hundreds of years... how? But devices couldn't lie... It turns out that he was carried away forward in time by eight hundreds of years? He must return back! No one has ever tried to use time collapser to make jumps hundreds of years forward... this device was simply not designed for this purpose. It's necessary to test the generator.

He sat down near the control panel. The first inquiry, second, third – the machine still served him well. What?! D...destroyed? How? He felt a knot in his gut.

Launching up from the planet, he has forgotten in a hurry to activate atmospheric, dust and asteroid shields, serving as reliable protection to ship's hull during its space travels. He has forgotten even to be fastened, that's why he has hit his head during the take-off. A huge dent on the right side of a ship – just where the collapser is mounted... There was a collision? But the vessel didn't descend from its course... probably, the onboard computer still guided a ship into orbit even after the crash... Asteroid? Possibly.

But what difference does it make now?! Now, when his unique possibility to come back home has been literally pulled out of his hands? When he was separated from the home by a timeframe of eight hundreds of years, alone before the unknown. He hardly managed to safely escape one danger – and here before him lies another one, even more serious, terrifying with its unpredictability... No, no, no! This is a delusion, unreality, dream! Then, weakened and exhausted by recent shocks, he has fallen on a floor of the ship and lost his consciousness...

***

A quiet and rhythmical beating of the heart. Deep calm breathing. Inhale. Exhale. And once again – inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Calm down, be quiet. Everything is all right, everything is fine. There are no desperate situations – and he will find a solution for this as well. No matter how ridiculous and hopeless it might seem. Maybe –  yes, probably it does seem hopeless at first sight, but only as far as that. The second sight will be wiser, it will become the search for a way out instead of lamentation, the search for a solution. Now he was looking with the second sight.

The time collapser is destroyed. He cannot return to the past, unable to travel in time at all. He got stuck in this time and the most reasonable thing for him now is to keep living in it. Keep living here and now until he finds a mean of returning. Whether he can do that at all? Silly question, pointless. He doesn't know the answer to it. Maybe yes, or maybe no. But the most reasonable thing he can do for now is to start mastering that time. Not for nothing, not in vain he proudly bears the name of space pioneer – and he shall become that pioneer in three thousand and God knows what year.

So, it is decided. Bridges are burned. There is no way to return back – that's why we shall move forward. And who knows – what awaits him behind the horizon?

***

Turned off engines of the space vessel. Already painfully familiar landscape. Same planetary coordinates, the same planet in the same solar system. Here such a strange way has begun – and here it will continue.

He checked himself. Everything seems to be in place. A space suit is on him. All other electronic tinsel as well. A stock of liquefied food for a month. Weapons? Yes, here it's hanging on his belt – a faithful laser semi-automatic gun LZ-195. Heart? There is courage, unshakable determination and awakened passionate thirst of adventures.

The sun in the blue-green sky of the Stigs planet. Miles and miles to go. Where? To a civilization. He truly hoped that such one does exist here. It's unlikely that this planet with so picturesque inundated woods and plains has not been populated and colonized and hasn't become a home for other inhabitants of this universe in three thousand and God knows what year. He believed in that and went forward, walked through plains of the planet.

***

Shot. Somersaults. Shooting again. He didn't assume at all that such a beautifully looking from afar flora of this planet's jungles can be so dangerous in a short distance. Lianas-predators, twisting around his feet and hands, blocking any access and possibility to get the weapon. Enormous plants like increased in twenty times sundews, that unmistakably guessed his location and greedily opened wide their "mouths" with full sets of sharp as needle leaves. Roots of trees, as though purposely clinging to his feet, blocking the passage... These jungles disliked strangers – but that became obvious not at once.

Breakthrough. Once again lianas braid him from feet to the head, trying to pull out a lethal weapon. Nay, you won't get me so simply! Somersaults. Turning. Shot. The next liana flows down to the ground in the liquefied form. Here comes the next one... Shot. His face was struck by lumps of meanly smelling green substance... Whistle from above... Down! Something flies over his head. Will see later... Or better not to see at all?

To escape? And will he? Anyway, he has to try. So... the only fraction of a second to make a decision... it's decided – we'll break through! Somersaults on the ground far away from the spot where he sprawled on the ground so untimely... Here he jumps on his feet... again comes the noise of dissected air... a turn towards new danger... too late! He wasn't on time. Extremely strained in turning of the body muscles... wild pain in joints... greet scale-like mass flowing near his face... something painfully seized his hand, trying to break a space suit... turning... his weapon drops out from his hands...

"This is the end," a thought flashed in mind. Without a weapon, he is not much of a fighter...

Biting blow on a helmet. Stars in the eyes – but his helmet sustained a strike. Last, desperate breakthrough, an attempt to escape from the web which has braided him... No way! He was being held with a death grip. That way he may become that very dead one very soon... Something extremely heavy, which has fallen from above. Bloody haze which has laid eyes. No escape, no escape, no escape... No way out... This is the end...

No, no, no! I will not surrender! I am a warrior, and warriors don't give up – they either prevail over the enemy or die on the battlefield. I have to prevail! I must... but how?! He couldn't even move – carnivorous inhabitants of this planet were holding him as strongly as possible. How? How? How?! His mind was rushing here and there in search of a solution...

Fool! And how couldn't I remember it earlier?! The invention that has already saved him once –  maybe it will help this time as well? It has to! Jet satchel, completely charged with liquid hydrogen, this "unsurpassed movement possibility" is not a joke at all. And only slightest efforts are required for its activation – a brain signal, sent to an armored neuro-pulse helmet of his space suit...

Already familiar roar behind his back... breakthrough... crunch and gnash... Here the branches which have braided him are being torn apart, some sort of creature flies up from his helmet and is carried away by a wild stream of air... Freedom! Ten, twenty meters... Freedom!

Oh, how great is that, when nobody is flattening and pressing you down, so you can breathe quietly and freely! Blue-green sky. Dozens of kilometers of planet's jungles. Where should he go?

"Home," came the uninvited thought.

No! He cannot return back home... not yet. His way lies here – under the sun of this world, in this world in search of a better one. He is eternal space wanderer, roaming through boundless spaces of the universe. He is a soldier, he is a researcher, he is a fighter. And his path lies here for now. Here.

***

Boundless kilometers lying ahead... Far away, as far as his gaze allowed to see, the same endless sea of jungles was stretching. Well, no... Here some sort of gleam appeared in the distance. His eyes were blinded for a moment. Some kind of enormous plateau, mountains... Closer, even closer, approximately five dozens of kilometers...

His breath caught in his chest. City! My God, a city! The planet is manned, it's habitable! "Brothers by reason, whoever you are, I have found you!" he thirsted to shout. This was an incredible feeling – to see and to know that you are not lonely in this world in three thousand fifty-sixth year...

Forward, move one! He must meet with the inhabitants of this planet! Yes, and now he has got a chance to return back to his time... It's small, but nevertheless, but still... His heart painfully skipped a beat.

Thirty kilometers, twenty-five... Once again a flash before his eyes. Consciousness... As if someone's mind was trying to get into his consciousness – quiet insinuating voice and silent contemplation. Eight, ten, twelve seconds... He has taken a breath. A strange feeling passed, but some remnants of this sensation were left inside him nevertheless.

He was being checked... Yes, they tested him. What for? There is no response. Did he pass a trial? Silence. Anyway, inhabitants of this planet still have not shown themselves and so he quietly continued his flight. Well, once we fly there – we shall know.

Here he is very close, only five kilometers remained. Only now he has seen that what was considered by him as a city didn't resemble it at all in the true sense of the word. At least it didn't resemble the city typical for the Earth in the third century.

Sparkling domes of buildings. There are no signs of either highways or roads – nothing which could remind him of the Earth city. Gardens, huge areas of gardens. Neither plants nor mechanized complexes or skyscrapers – nothing like that by which Earth of his time was characterized.

Gardens and parks. Sparkling domes, covering construction of wondrous forms – no sort of parallelepipeds or cylinders of Earth constructions, no. Here each and every building was special, original as if created in beauty from its core. It seemed as if times of wooden and stone architecture of his ancestors returned to this planet – only in an even more enriched form. Windings, curves, transforms... Buildings-phoenixes. Buildings – spirals, sparkling with all colors of rainbows. Buildings – opening buds of flowers. Buildings – giant trees. Nowhere to be seen there were rough geometrical forms, but the beauty of natural forms, decorated with human imagination.

Whether it's human? Whether they live on this planet? Uncertainty. He still didn't see any inhabitant of this planet but has been already noticed by many of them. Now many of their mental sights were attentively focused on him – dozens, maybe even hundreds. Attentive watching and goodwill. Here it is raising and extending, spreading around... Where are the inhabitants of this world who possess such unusual abilities? Scientists of his age have already invented devices, allowing to detect mental vibrations, but they worked totally unstable and often glitched – there was no talk of reading one's thoughts. It turns out that local inhabitants did not use such things?

Ten kilometers... eight... seven... Here they are! Humans? Yes, they are very similar to humans, yet not humans of the third millennium – but to much higher and perfect people as if emanating light. Surprisingly, but he has already been starting to feel these rays, of which science of their age just started guessing and was constructing shy assumptions – vibrations of human essence, as he would call them. What sort of transformation has occurred to him that he has begun feeling them without all unnecessary mechanics, but with all his being instead? Probably, he may learn this in due time...

His last doubts dissipated – they have been washed away as useless ashes when he was beholding this "city" and its inhabitants. This was the world of enlightened race. Yes, they were humans – he had no more doubts about that. A lot of them were now standing on the flower square, awaiting his arrival. There were smiles playing on their faces and eyes were shining with the light. "Eyes are a window to the soul," came out the words somewhere from the depth of consciousness. Apparently, there is so much more hidden in these words than he suspected at first... All right, it's time to land. Ten... five meters to the ground.

"We welcome you, brother by reason," the strong, ringing and courageous voice sounded in his mind. It seemed that common human language was not necessary to these people at all. Here someone from their ranks stepped forward – probably, the leader. Turned to nearby fellow citizens, rose his hand higher, probably calling for silence, and then again turned to face him.

"Once again greetings to you, space wanderer," this time it was a common human language. Not a mental addressing – but a living word from lips! And once again words came out, powerful and brave words, full of unshakable confidence and force – the speaking one was an inborn leader, "From where have you arrived, traveler?"

He answered. People briskly started to exchange words from behind, talking in their native language, however, he couldn't understand even a single phrase from their speech. The leader rose his hand once more, asking for silence, and everything went silent.

"My colleagues are both surprised and pleased. Your equipment looks rather... strange. I cannot remember that somewhere in the worlds of the Great Unity of Planets it's being either created or used. Especially on... the Earth. Therefore, we desire to ask you a question, traveler – who are you truly? I have no desire to interfere in your thoughts and memory, even though I could do that. Answer truthfully. We will not cause you any harm – last millennia of the wars of our ancestors have taught us much. Answer truthfully – who are you and from where have you arrived at our world?"

Intrigued and full of interest looks of people standing in front of him. Should he tell them? That way he'll get a chance to come back home... With possibilities in possession of these people, they for certain should have means of travel through epochs! But, of course, at first, he will still linger here and try to learn more about those who live in this wonderful world.

"Year two thousand two hundred seventy-fifth. Traveled in time by the order of the United Galactic Council. Collapsers of time. Carried out a mission of resource and information gathering in distant worlds."

Accurately, like on a military report, sounded words – he had nothing to hide. His words abated in the instantly reigned silence. Second, two, three... painful silence was becoming longer and longer. Even the leader, it seemed, was surprised by such a turn of events. But – only for an instant. He was certainly getting used to the most unexpected circumstances and turnarounds.

"Now everything is clear, Robert. You have answered fully truthfully. Indeed, our far ancestors were once engaged in similar experiments with time waves, but they missed the main point – the possibilities of the human spirit, inborn in his very nature. Earth scientists of the third millennium tried to replace the higher human nature with some pity mechanics... certainly, it was almost fruitless.

Yes, you are still unaware of this, but I will tell you nevertheless: those collapsers of which you were talking – they didn't work the way it was supposed to during their creation. Journey into the past with fidelity of seconds, huh? So they have praised you this invention in the Intergalactic Council? Well – there were no talks of seconds, minutes, hours or even years. Hundreds, maybe thousands of years – such was the accuracy of these "devices". Plus operational instability – time jumps into the future were not designed and jumps from the past into the "now" time should have occurred without hassles in a theory.

Both the first and the second turned out to be a myth in reality. Hundreds and thousands of travelers who have "got stuck" in the past. Several hundred more who have gone into the future for an uncertain number of centuries. Yes, yes, be not surprised – you were not the only such one, there were other colleagues by "misfortune". One such as you arrived in our world about three hundred Earth years ago. Some of my brothers have not met him when he arrived and left our world – our planetary life is still limited to a certain timeframe – that's why they have been so amazed, having seen you. Now they know the truth.

How have I already told them this information and where have I learned your name? Wait, wait, oh curious one! You will know everything in due time. You will have plenty of it – enough of it. Who are these enemies that have assaulted you in the jungles? Genetic weapon of our ancestors, created for waging of wars. We are clearing the planet, but it's a lengthy process. We cannot simply destroy life – we have to transform it. For now, follow me – I invite you to our world in a myriad of others in the universe. Follow me. You will be our guest here, Robert."

***

He learned everything. No, not everything – facts that his mind was willing to accept.

Fourth millennium. Colonized and transformed worlds of the universe that have united into the Alliance of Planets. Peace and prosperity, reduced to the necessary minimum industry, underground production, perfect technologies of recycling, human creativity, yielding fruits of beauty. But all this was on the surface, and deep inside there were people who have reached the highest heights of spirit. Ones not requiring ridiculous mechanical devices, ones who have developed their inborn, their higher potential – capable to heal spiritually and clearly see the essence of each man, to read minds and predict the future. Brothers and sisters of the uniform world, united with it. For several hundreds of years, there was not a single war conflict in any of the star systems controlled by the Alliance of Planets – they were simply unnecessary. They have died out like a remnant of a decay, egoism, and callousness, like a remnant of animalistic rage. Wars were no more, violence was no more – there was one united prospering universe, the Great Alliance of Planets.

He learned all of this not at once. He has spent many days on this planet... many years. He didn't throw aside his dream of returning back home – sometimes in the evenings his heart was washed by light grief and memories of his homeworld chafed his mind. However, this world became a new home for him as well, like each and every planet in the universe. He will be able to return back home once he finishes his spiritual growth here. Will be able to travel in time without mechanics, but through the power of spirit instead. But he has to pass a long way for that, lots of steps. He believed that this day would come once. And thus he worked.

25.12.2004

## New Age Threshold

Astounding tragicomedy

V.V.P., "Greetings and well met, oh highly respected TV-watchers! Have a good time of pokes... I mean, jokes! It's me again together with ye, the TV presenter of the 'Russia News' show Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin. The topic of our next telecast will be, saying straightly, of the truly apocalyptic nature. But let's not get ahead of ourselves! And, yeah, while I still haven't forgotten the scenario, I want to add that there is a guest here sitting in the studio together with me for now, a researcher of human souls, Fyodor! Hello, Fyodor!"

Fyodor, "Zdryam!"

V.V.P., "Fyodor makes me stun, telling them all 'zdryam'."

Fyodor, "Those are the customs and the times... but let's not build spiritual mines to be left lonely in the cram, addressing watchers with words 'zdryam'..."

V.V.P., "From such a rhyme I'll shed some tears! Where have you been for two hundred years?"

Fyodor, "Forget the sorrowful accord, I lived in another world."

V.V.P., "Oh well, perhaps, but let us stop – or soon we will be on the top until at least the end of day... I find it hard to rhyme, I say!"

Fyodor, "And I find funny it for now... what shall we tell them and just how?"

V.V.P., "Oh, we will see the picture shaking, how Russian bear gets awakened, how dies a foe from overseas, how British flag gets sunk in freeze, how Jews returned all western walls to Arabs nations with no toll, how Europe-Russia did unite and Balts unable to spread blight, how N of prophecies came true, how temples ruined without glue, how politicians got mad and eat now only stale bread, and how the Newest Epoch comes and we are hitting in the drums!"

Fyodor, "You are a poet, friend, as well! To find a better job you shall!"

V.V.P., "I've got such laurels, what to say? But where were you along the way?"

Fyodor, "I got frozen in the cold, that is what my soul told."

V.V.P., "A winter of the soul? Is summer then your goal?"

Fyodor, "It was delayed, I was afraid. But hope I do – will sky turn blue, and sun of God will come in the world."

V.V.P., "To be a light in darkest night? This world is full of hatred, blight!"

Fyodor, "Don't be afraid, find the strength to fly – the jackal will just howl and die!"

V.V.P., "Already howling, do you hear? The days of answer coming near."

Fyodor, "Such is the century and time... We have forgotten what is prime, in darkness many washed and stayed, and the path to God they have betrayed."

V.V.P., "That's just what we are showing you! The years passed will now be few, and the world will clear from the sin, and will emerge like a submarine."

Fyodor, "How gothic is that your prediction... It is so fine and not a fiction! The world is cleared from the dust, its Karma now is working fast!"

V.V.P., "And one will find Him, being ready. Let's watch the topic, friend, already?"

Fyodor, "All right, Vladimir, play your part! Prepare to watch, let's give a start!"

V.V.P., "A time of wonders is approaching, and gentle souls Spirit's touching..."

Fyodor, "Such events take the place just once... Think wider, our TV fans!"

A camera in television studio moves somewhere sideways and upwards, at first displaying the vicinities of some city from a height of a bird's flight, and then sharply dives downwards and panoramas of various small streets are revealed before viewers. Small streets quickly replace one another as the camera continues its sharp dive there-here for rounds, moving at the level of the third-fourth floors of buildings. Strangely enough, all streets look deserted – not a single wandering soul can be seen along it. All common crowd activity has gone somewhere, thousands of men and women as if have vanished from the city, and a din, so traditional for megacities, has totally broken off. Cars are parked in some chaotic manner along the edges of streets – some of them were apparently hastily abandoned, – their doors are wide open, however, no one aspires to take hold of another's vehicle. City system of illumination and traffic light still work, however one cannot observe any visible movement at all. As if the city died out all of a sudden – definitively and irrevocably.

Fyodor, "Oh my, what's going there on? They used to dream of own throne – but now all hidden like the rats... Perhaps they've seen some giant cats?"

V.V.P., "This is New York... or bestiary? Reminds me of the mortuary... all people left the streets for good... oh no, this ain't Hollywood!"

Fyodor, "Who record this to be then shown?"

V.V.P., "It's an operator, who has flown!"

Fyodor, "Oh, my! A man can soar like a bird?"

V.V.P., "And so much more of that sort!"

Fyodor, "With proper faith, we all can fly and join thus the life of sky?"

V.V.P., "A couple is already soaring... and trust my word, this isn't boring."

Fyodor, "I see... Oh well, and where are men, have gone to Hollywood all then?"

V.V.P., "Like cockroaches in the homes – all reading now the holy tomes! As if the priests of the blight behold the coming of the Light!"

Fyodor, "Like cockroaches, being lit, they run away now, breaking feet? What are they doing at these times?"

V.V.P., "Before the God commit their crimes. Ask to forgive their sins in demise, feeling how far they are from Paradise. Knowing, perhaps, what some earned with deeds... asking to banish from soul dark seeds."

Fyodor, "In hearts and minds believed in God? That's such a wonderful accord..."

V.V.P., "Fyodor, remember, who is recording them!"

Fyodor, "Your operator in skies like a ram?"

V.V.P., "Sort of, my Fyodor, and something like that... See through the camera, how he is glad?"

A smiling ruddy physiognomy of the operator suddenly appears before viewers. The physiognomy shows its tongue and, apparently, teases viewers. Then a hand appears on the front in a camera, affably waving to all.

V.V.P., "This is Ivan, the operator – he's roaming skies as of the later!"

Fyodor, "The bird descended from the skies... And what of planes?"

V.V.P., "They've stopped their flies!"

Fyodor, "Are they afraid to crash with him?"

V.V.P., "No better plane they've ever seen!"

Fyodor, "All that I've learned in institute... the laws of physics..."

V.V.P., "Leave for good! The world of wonders is the choice, the God has heard appealing voice..."

Fyodor, "Where are all physicists, the scene is sad. Vomit in toilets or have fled?"

V.V.P., "Ivan, show us the institute! They are 'praying' there now for good."

The camera suddenly twitches, sharply floats somewhere downwards, then upwards, again downwards and upwards, speeding up on its way, and then for the last time dives down and flies directly into the open doors of some building, dives in corridors for a few times and then stand still in immovability. A huge hall opens before viewers, filled with people in glasses, dressed in white dressing gowns. Those ones, standing near walls, amicable as though on command, with a periodicity of several seconds hit the wall with their heads, making a sound, somewhat resembling a "bom!" Those unlucky ones, who have got no walls in their direct possession, are standing in the center of the hall on their knees, and with so smaller persistence strike a stone floor with their foreheads with approximately similar periodicity. The show depresses and bewitches simultaneously.

Fyodor, "Oh, stop this nonsense, help them heal, or otherwise themselves they'll kill!"

V.V.P., "Ones in depression cannot thrive. Such is the way of disbelief."

Fyodor, "Their minds are useful still. Hope soon better they will feel."

V.V.P., "To learn themselves they do not try... and in such actions their soul cry."

Fyodor, "One cannot learn himself through the mind, a path to soul must he find."

V.V.P., "I hope someday they'll read this text. What are we going to watch next?"

Fyodor, "Do all the priest lose their force when Son of God knocked at their doors?"

V.V.P., "Ivan have seen how faithful ones pray not in church, yet sing and dance!"

The camera changes its foreshortening once more, takes off from an institute building, winding through narrow and twisting corridors, then soars up in heavens and rushes in whitish clouds, from time to time looking at the sun as if for the sake of joy. Then sharply dives downwards, hardly not hitting an iron cross, decorating the top of the building, and flies into the open gate of some large temple. A truly intriguing picture reveals before the eyes: the last left in the church priest does, apparently, something unimaginable. He periodically fills his hands with a handful of "sacred" water and "tastes" it on a tongue, promptly screwing up ones face and whispering something under the nose, or removes a heavy cross, hanging on a neck, and strikes himself with it into a forehead, shouting "Amen" for better effect, or approaches a random icon, and starts ogling, or sits down on a floor in a pose of a lotus and begins beating out a tap dance on all the crosses, necklaces and other jewelry, covering his body, or with a heart-rendering cries "I banish thee, I tell ya!" starts rushing over a hall, threating someone invisible with a overgilded cross. This show frightens, intrigues and bewitches at the same time.

Fyodor, "I wonder, is that priest mad?"

V.V.P., "A ritual plague this priest had."

Fyodor, "All forms he mixed, but essence – miss... was priest kissed by Abyss?"

V.V.P., "For quite a long their god is money, all actions strange, few souls are sunny, and even stupid ritual he can't perform, for it's so dull."

Fyodor, "If they possess no more sheep, there is no need for gold and whip?"

V.V.P., "Let's them cut fur from their bodies, and all those 'donated' goodies."

Fyodor, "They've served a golden calf so well, had their feasts in their fall – was their list of crimes too fat?"

V.V.P., "I guess we'll keep in secret that!"

Fyodor, "The priests are not doing well... watch politicians, friend, we shall?"

V.V.P., "No reason watching them, I think – to guzzle oats and vodka's drink?"

Fyodor, "Oats and vodka? Funny move! That's how their holiness they prove?"

V.V.P., "They are doing that for quite a time! With Faberge eggs they play ping-pong, and left their mansions with gold pools, still loudly crying, 'We were fools!'"

Fyodor, "Those are, no doubt, timely thoughts!"

V.V.P., "Hi, politician! Eat now the oats!"

Fyodor, "Have they ground off their teeth, trying all to bite and tease? Or have enlightenment just come, and they have learned their own harm?"

V.V.P., "They were shocked, they were crying when Ivan was zealously flying! And just beside in own dreams, they saw the tombs, prepared for sins. They saw what is awaiting them, and since these days they are in the lam."

Fyodor, "The avaricious knight has learned the price of blight, confirmed that he was a fool and quickly sat in the dirty pool?"

V.V.P., "Sort of, my friend, it is quite so... The politician has fallen low. Already soon he'll leave the scene, for oh-so-bloody it has been."

Fyodor, "What if he gives away all gold?"

V.V.P., "Another fate may then unfold. But he collected all in holes, for long perceiving own goals."

Fyodor, "He may present someone somewhere, to share with others – that is fair!"

V.V.P., "Every task can you endure if your soul's always pure!"

Fyodor, "Oats with them we'll not consume, and leave them all alone to fume. I guess at last the time has come to watch medical outcome! For long they've rescued only bodies – what has become with their goodies?"

V.V.P., "Ivan, show us the plot for now, and fly in heavens... you know how!"

The camera changes its foreshortening for one more time, turning away from a raging priest, who is crying out "Ya fly away from there, I banish ya!", takes into opened temple's gates and rises into heavens. For some time a spectator can observe landscapes replacing each other far below, beginning from the vast forest and finishing with apparently endless roads, leading goodness knows where and goodness know what for, and then starts a traditional sharp dive and the picture of a city's dump reveals before one's eyes. Huge dump – I would even say a picture of massive waste. It's clearly visible a row of cars standing before a dump, competing with each other in the holy right to be emptied as soon as possible. During the "emptying" of a next garbage truck it becomes visible, how from its body big heaps of some tablets of all possible forms and coloring, some bags filled with powder, and finally, some jars and bottles with every possible mixture are rolled out and fall down into this already huge heap. All this medical junk amicably flies downwards from a heap's top, ringing and as though clinking with invisible hooves in the process. This magnificent picture is finalized with striding here and there between heaps fire-bearers with torches, who persistently and methodically try to send all this unloaded junk to a fire for eating.

Fyodor, "Burning bright, the finest light!"

V.V.P., "Look in the sky – Ivans do fly!"

Fyodor, "Fine to remember of own childhood, these fire-bearers are like Robins Hoods! Medicines burn with a wonderful glow, formerly diseased express their 'love'..."

V.V.P., "People of Earth heal each other, energies holy were granted by Father."

Fyodor, "A funny change in medicines... diseases are caused by own sins!"

V.V.P., "A true belief can cure one! All those, becoming divine sons, own mistakes must understand to travel then in Wonderland. They now were healed by God, they sing and dance, and praise and glad!"

Fyodor, "And by all means, that is just fine! A beloved topic that's of mine... I am again on the road and happy thinking of my God."

V.V.P., "We both, my Fyodor, know of that – this planet was in a state so bad, but now the healing is near... And the new Earth will know no fear. The age of light now comes to life..."

Fyodor, "I wonder, who will that survive?"

***

V.V.P., "Please tell me, Fyodor, how are you?"

Fyodor, "The fate has stacked us with glue!"

V.V.P., "Oh yes, I see... and that's fine then! Shall we watch events once again?"

Fyodor, "Or we can simply talk a lot... and share what's going on and hot!"

V.V.P., "The spring is coming, snow's no more..."

Fyodor, "And once again my spirit soar!"

V.V.P., "How is the height? And what's the speed? And is the sign in heavens lit?"

Fyodor, "I have no knowledge of my height... Yet speed increases own grade..."

V.V.P., "I am so happy, poet-friend, that we are all in the same band!"

Fyodor, "There is no reason now to flatter... To wake up sleepers – so much better."

V.V.P., "Through verses telling of the things, and waving own hands like wings?"

Fyodor, "Of wondrous times we are still ringing, and bird from skies to us still singing, with each her song we know a bit more, so let us learn her hidden lore."

V.V.P., "We are together – I am glad. Let's once again pour the flood!"

Fyodor, "Strange flood's approaching worthy nations... It's the enlightenment, inspiration!"

V.V.P., "Heed our speech, my watcher, then. Life's closing circle once again!"

Fyodor, "The altitude does differ, though. Away from fire shadows flow."

V.V.P., "Without fire life is dark."

Fyodor, "So let's give watcher at least spark. A river of times is flowing in spring for them to awaken in eye's blink."

V.V.P., "Awakened warriors we've got! What're their numbers?"

Fyodor, "Quite a lot?"

V.V.P., "I guess there could be more of them?"

Fyodor, "Someone preferred to go in lam."

V.V.P., "We'll fight alongside ones, who've come."

Fyodor, "And make the viewer silent-stunned."

V.V.P., "Let's go, oh camera, go live! Ivan is going on the strife!"

Fyodor, "Ivan in going in the sky just like a fighter on the fly..."

V.V.P., "He's fighting now with prejudice!"

Fyodor, "But have no feathers, just us, guys."

V.V.P., "And add the wings to absence list – but still he's sky apologist."

Fyodor, "He'll gain those in Thin World rather and bath himself then in the ether?"

V.V.P., "It's hard to be like Angel, guy, your soul must be on the fly."

Fyodor, "True wings are granted by the God?"

V.V.P., "Ivan, show us the funny plot!"

Camera together with Ivan (or maybe Ivan together with a camera?) rush away from film-making studio, winding on corridors for a long time, evading on its way from scurrying here and there employees, who are at the sight of camera (or maybe Ivan instead?) quite unambiguously smile and concede roads; then, finally, flies by at the opening door on a fresh air. It's clearly visible how a camera then turns by a semicircle, speeds up and starts winding through capital's streets, having risen by the level of the third or fourth floor of houses in order to evade side effects of possible collisions with even less ambiguously smiling lower-walking passers-by. After about three minutes before viewers a scene of recently build up shopping center opens up, and camera, having accurately entered through the opening of entrance doors armholes, finally freezes as though in indecision state.

A picture of truly epic scale reveals before the audience: entire hall, as far as the look suffices, is full of people making a din and scurrying about here and there, on backs of which pairs of wings of white, black, pink, green, orange, gray, gray-brown-crimson-in-a-speck colors are fixed. Lots of girls do coquettishly try on themselves the next pair of wings, gracefully flaunting in front of mirrors. As if in revenge some young men try to pinch them from time to time for these very most newly acquired wings. Here and there exclamations of type "And do these white ones fit me well?", "And those pinkish I'll present to my girlfriend!", "In them, you look more like a devil!", "I welcome thee, Emo-Angel!", "Gimme two!" and the like. The picture intrigues and bewitches one greatly.

Fyodor, "What are they doing there, my!"

V.V.P., "The wings of Angels do they buy!"

Fyodor, "Like them they want to look at least and have engaged in fair's feast?"

V.V.P., "Everyone desired so when Ivan was on the go!"

Fyodor, "They search for wings as if guru?"

V.V.P., "And cry aloud, 'Gimme two!'"

Fyodor, "There are wings of color black?!"

V.V.P., "For those whose soul's on wrong track."

Fyodor, "And even those of color pink..."

V.V.P., "It's quite an honor, don't you think?"

Fyodor, "You've got a humor in the stock! And what is that?"

V.V.P., "It's a winged dog!"

Fyodor, "And even horse these wings has gain?!"

V.V.P., "Pegasus flying in the rain!"

Fyodor, "It's sort of miracle as such..."

V.V.P., "I do agree, so don't you touch!"

Fyodor, "Ivan's no doubt, lucky one!"

V.V.P., "And more skills are yet to come. He's our curiosity with all verbosity!"

Fyodor, "I am so happy for that man! Flying's is part of Divine Plan."

V.V.P., "Into the Garden we will go, the road is shining with a new glow."

Fyodor, "Someone will enter, others not. The battle's getting hotter."

V.V.P., "I pity those still doing crimes. Just like American marines..."

Fyodor, "How the USA is living, yes?"

V.V.P., "Ivan, show us this teaching mess!"

As if having found second wings, let it even be somewhat artificial, in reality, Ivan in unity with a camera and his great desire leaves chock-full pavilion with Not-So-Angels and sharply soars up to the clouds. For a short instant the camera appears to be blinded by beams of a rising sun, and then the audience can behold for some time gentle curly-headed cloudlets-lambs and flying pigeons. Then all of a sudden the camera dives down, cutting clouds and having frightened off the next flock of totally not guilty of anything birds, and depressing in the monotone picture reveals before viewers.

Wherever you look – everywhere there are dilapidated and almost depopulated cities with rickety houses and beaten-out glasses, through streets of which winds keep walking and rolling goodness knows where from brought tumbleweed and other not taken out from fire chestnuts. From time to time through this or that street some figure rushes on, bearing a faint resemblance to a human, yet by its habits and appearance more resembling Neanderthal men. Sometimes silent abuse comes off from Ivan's side, along with advice to be cleaned from "this burial ground of stinking macaques" as quickly as possible. The revealing before viewers picture indeed partly reminds a cemetery, in which survived ones didn't still manage to put things in order yet or are already totally incapable of doing so independently. It all forms a feeling as though this continent was recently visited either by a huge natural disaster or not less destructive by its consequences social act of terrorism. The picture depresses and leaves an extremely burdensome impression on soul.

Fyodor, "Who are these? Some sort of monkeys?"

V.V.P., "Please look closer, these are Yankees!"

Fyodor, "Faces covered with fear?"

V.V.P., "Downfall is coming near!"

Fyodor, "Many covered with fur, no escape from own moor?"

V.V.P., "Those, who have abandoned God, doomed themselves to groan and rot."

Fyodor, "Yankees must repentance feel..."

V.V.P., "They are killing others still..."

Fyodor, "What a pitiful 'the end' for that former continent."

V.V.P., "Capitalism made them like mad. Feudalism now welcomes, lad!"

Fyodor, "They are dividing quickly so... how many 'kingdoms' in the row?"

V.V.P., "Just like as many as the states... Run overseas all Wall Street's mates!"

Fyodor, "No one escapes the Justice Law!"

V.V.P., "Feel no repentance? It means... oh..."

Fyodor, "Those ones escaping from the fate will more trouble only bait."

V.V.P., "Ships may think without link... of your actions, one must think!"

Fyodor, "Look what Yankees brought on them..."

V.V.P., "Nature's wrath is like a ram! Whirlwinds and tsunamis may be coming from the seas..."

Fyodor, "This is quite instructive, yes... Evil ones are making a mess."

V.V.P., "Quite long ago it has been told. Still people strife for wealth and gold."

Fyodor, "They are the lesson for this world, ones who rejected divine chord..."

V.V.P., "This nation bears own guilt... and hate like poison makes them wilt."

Fyodor, "Their brother-Jew... what of these ones?"

V.V.P., "Ivan, show us those 'chosen' sons."

Once again having sadly sighted directly into the camera, with relief Ivan soars under heavens once again, and, being guided by reference points known only to him, flies straight in the direction of a sacred hail, because of which sanctity there was so much human blood, probably not so sacred, spilled already. On approaching, however, it becomes obvious that the sky over Jerusalem is densely covered with black-gray clouds, here and there lightning are sparkling illuminated dark horizon, and heavy rain has already started. Either a mental abuse or Ivan's caustic snicker can be heard in the camera, and she, camera, starts to become covered by more than live drops of moisture. Then, however, the hand of operator waves before viewers, which in all its immense power with ease wipes the camera in a flash of time, and unambiguously exposes to everyone its thumb, raised vertically up.

Five more seconds pass and before looking into their TV screens auditory a shocking unprepared watcher view opens itself: it's clearly visible how large masses of people gathered before sorrowly known Wailing Wall and in some sort of drunk waste, more, however, reminding frenzied despair, are bashing their heads against this so sorrowly known wall. They are hitting it, however, not so strongly and seriously, because no a single one from them, as the look suffices, bears no visible signs of a blow with own forehead. Deaf sounds "bom!" accompanied by high shrieks "Ai!", "Ouch!" and even "Eh time, one more time!" fill space. The picture reminds an attempt of national public repentance not the most original way. Drops of moisture, beating about a pavement, complete this pitiable picture of crying.

V.V.P., "Just look, my friend, at Wailing Wall – the Jews are 'paying' their toll!"

Fyodor, "Oh, my! With heads, they are bashing walls! Is that the way to reach their goals?"

V.V.P., "They beat themselves like in frenzy, for long have been living in the lie..."

Fyodor, "A heaven's fire fell on the town, and 'chosen' one was stripped of the crown?"

V.V.P., "Was making money all the way... and thus become their own prey."

Fyodor, "When conscience dropped in the urn, the sun becoming hot and burn?"

V.V.P., "Whose speech is brutal, full of hate may know what role sun plays in fate."

Fyodor, "Without nature one lives not. What of officials and their sort?"

V.V.P., "I'm afraid they aren't glad."

Fyodor, "I didn't get it – what is that?"

V.V.P., "Without money thieves went mad."

Fyodor, "And what of those who stole not much?"

V.V.P., "For their wealth, they tried to clutch."

Fyodor, "Can this be seen in color mode?"

V.V.P., "A nice cutscene we have got."

Fyodor, "And that reply is quite unclear."

V.V.P., "Oh yes, we'll see, cause it's quite near."

The camera soars up again, taking off from a zone of black clouds, and sets course for a Moscow. After a short duration still recently black sky suddenly lights up with sunshine, patches of which light starts playing here and there on the lens only known to them chords. Through totally short time before viewers the image of St. Basil's Cathedrals flows out in a real-time, and the panorama of Red Square reveals from a bird's flight height. It's clearly visible how along specified square under a military escort some officials of the state are moving, spitefully looking around on by no means loyal military forces and celebrating people. From the site of aforementioned last ones, obscene abuses and promises "to restore justice" can be overheard – what sort of justice they are talking about, however, isn't known. Escorts periodically kick them, helping to get into the prepared armored vans under encouraging exclamations of standing nearby people. On faces of thieves of Russian State, departing into exile, a totally genuine mix of fear, surprise, melancholy, and disappointment can be distinguished. By all means, it's obvious that they surely didn't expect such sort of ending.

Fyodor, "I see them all now in the run, without power, with no fun?"

V.V.P., "Official fell from all the tops with little help from Russian cops!"

Fyodor, "And what is that? They are groaning 'no' but in Siberia still, go?"

V.V.P., "They are leaving Kremlin in the tracks, abusing all with useless 'fucks'!"

Fyodor, "I will show nothing like respect before those Kremlin-thieves-sect..."

V.V.P., "They've been exiled in distant lands for Russia's tired of these 'bands'."

Fyodor, "What, check and mate? It's just in time! I'm overjoyed in the rhyme!"

V.V.P., "The second escort do you see?"

Fyodor, "These liberals will not get free!"

V.V.P., "Both parties cursing each one, well... and moving now in parallel..."

Fyodor, "Just look at how they blame each other! To curses, I won't listen rather!"

V.V.P., "They will have a great time together... I will not watch 'reunion' rather!"

Fyodor, "I have all reasons to believe! Woe to traitors and to thieves..."

V.V.P., "Once common men exiled they, but life now offered mirrored way!"

Fyodor, "Russia's pillage will not last! Where is the ax from former 'past'?"

V.V.P., "Oh no, drop weapons, wars don't rock!"

Fyodor, "It is, my friend, was sort of joke. My hero once was ax-bearer, but the time of change is coming near, so he is now with the blade of word..."

V.V.P., "It's such a wonderful accord!"

Fyodor, "Russia will awake from sleep, inspired again, no longer sick."

V.V.P., "The beast is crawling back in hole..."

Fyodor, "The spring is coming, spring for all!"

V.V.P., "All cockroaches run from light, they once were thriving in the blight..."

Fyodor, "I see Russia's hoping all. What's with Saxons?"

V.V.P., "They paid their toll."

Fyodor, "You mean they've cursed their banks?"

V.V.P., "I mean they've put on aqualungs!"

Fyodor, "For a long time they've been hating us... is the Atlantis better thus?"

V.V.P., "No longer they have their home. England, well... it's sort of... gone."

Fyodor, "Empire fell with the awful smell?"

V.V.P., "And shouldn't it? The water, well..."

Fyodor, "Oh, my, you mean they had to dive and swim away to save their life?"

V.V.P., "Nature gave a reply to crimes, from the "third world" they are sucking 'fines'..."

Fyodor, "What is that light in such dense fog?"

V.V.P., "It's Scotland's fire! These guys rock!"

Fyodor, "They truly are the mountains sons!"

V.V.P., "The world is changing with no guns..."

Fyodor, "All fools believed that life is still."

V.V.P., "The speed of change they will soon feel!"

Fyodor, "The inner wisdom never sleeps... I would prefer to watch your tips."

Kremlin Square starts quickly disappearing from sight, getting smaller and smaller, leaving one with a pride in a soul for the Russian people, camera starts winding of streets and suddenly stops before some large capital library, before gates of which a true and real fire is burning! Its borders and limits are, however, being successfully controller by passing here and there processions with torches, who help to burn the pilled-up paper waste and supervise that ashes of her shabby knowledge weren't carried by a blowing wind too far on the world. On faces of participants of procession, it's possible to notice a surprising mix of grief and inner joy at the same time. Periodically here and there war-calls in the spirit of "Burn right and bright, let's end the blight!" can be overheard. Action intrigues, shocks and bewitches strenuously.

Fyodor, "What sort of field there burns?"

V.V.P., "They are throwing textbooks in the urns!"

Fyodor, "To hear inner wisdom's voice they had to make such funny choice?"

V.V.P., "All rubbish knowledge is like ash, so lots of theories have crashed."

Fyodor, "The joy of life the Maker gives... yet not to traitors, not to thieves."

V.V.P., "The time has come for us to fly. Still, move in cars... don't we feel shy?"

Fyodor, "The cars can still have a reason, yes, but shall be changed by progress."

V.V.P., "Another type of fuel's here, no more oil, wars, and fear."

Fyodor, "Let Earth take finally some rest. Those new inventions are the best."

V.V.P., "No scientific falsely 'wonder', spiritual science is like thunder."

Fyodor, "For if there is just mind plus greed, for bombs then we are planting the seed."

V.V.P., "No longer mankind making bombs, no more digging catacombs."

Fyodor, "And what with these that have been made?"

V.V.P., "Their only fate is to degrade."

Fyodor, "What do you mean? Again in a fight?!"

V.V.P., "No way! One sees his soul's might!"

Fyodor, "I have been almost terrified. Deserve they honor by the right!"

V.V.P., "And tons of metal are now free... where will they use it, we shall see!"

Fyodor, "They melt all cannons and know not where would that metal all be brought?"

V.V.P., "They've dug that metal quite a lot applying wrongly with no thought."

Fyodor, "And now it's time for the worthy goal. The greedy one pays the double toll!"

V.V.P., "Oh yeah, one thing I find quite funny – how will they pay without money?"

Fyodor, "With little money little gore?"

V.V.P., "All money is gone, they are no more!"

Fyodor, "Is this some sort of New World's charter?"

It's obvious that heavenly apologist Ivan very reluctantly says goodbye to contemplation of burning fields of shabby books, so bewitching the sight of unprepared viewer, but, nevertheless, curiosity together with a call of duty finally prevails, and he, having waved a hand to all torches procession, and shouted to them something like "Hasta la vista!", for one another time soars up to heavens like a free bird. He continues for some time to habitually wind of city streets at the level of the third or the fourth floor of buildings, and then with a gallop if, certainly, such a term is even applicable to such sort of movement, flies into the opened door of the currency exchange building.

Straight off it becomes clear that senseless vanity which once filled this senseless institution sank into oblivion in no time, for the rats, creeping here and there on parquets, have become practically the main inhabitants of this institution, as well as some individuals of doubtful degree of rationality with sad looks on their faces, periodically bursting in cries like "Blue counters, blue counters, they are the gingerbreads for money launders!", "Will lend for five and take for three, I shall be rich, oh you will see!", "Bulls and bears are not pears... run away... back off, I say!". Similar chaos is supplemented by scattered here and there packs of cash of most different forms and coloring, on some on which aforementioned rats have already managed to make their notes. In general, this picture leaves a strong feeling of a madhouse which was left by all medics already along with the majority of their patients, excluding the most persistent ones from the second group.

Fyodor, "Is that too good, is that too bad? It's like a house for the mad!"

V.V.P., "The parasites did crawl here... now crocodiles cry with tears."

Fyodor, "They have been warned long ago, but didn't change their spirit's 'flow'."

V.V.P., "Let's stop beholding their fate – no more course, no more rate..."

Fyodor, "Back then to churchmen? No, no reasons."

V.V.P., "Some men did leave the cages of prisons!"

Fyodor, "Those ones without great crimes were given work to pay the 'fines'?"

V.V.P., "Who Divine Law have understood, expiate crimes in work for good."

Fyodor, "Each one will show what holds inside... humility forges roads for the right."

V.V.P., "Let's hope they have sufficient time, and their demons are in decline."

Fyodor, "Guardian Angel each one has got, listen to them to feel divine accord."

V.V.P., "Many of them that will soon understand."

Fyodor, "What of the poets in our land?"

Ivan suddenly bursts in victorious shout "Y-a-h-o-o!" and takes off away from the root paper nervous-doing, gradually increasing his height as if trying to leave this city as quickly as ever possible. And finally before viewers forests start floating above, camera sharply dives down and as though hangs on a branch of one of the pines. Ten seconds after it becomes obvious that Ivan simply sat down on a fly on the of a tree, which has attracted his attention, just like a classical bird. Thirty seconds later silent joyful whistling reaches an audience, ones of definitely human genesis. A view of a wood clearing and the slice of the sky opens before viewers, which has appeared in the lens of a television camera just in time. It seems that Ivan's pensive and spring mood was transferred even to the dictor.

V.V.P., "We shall live not as we did once!"

Fyodor, "Let's sing like birds and then have a dance!"

V.V.P., "Is that the pigeon of the peace?"

Fyodor, "And don't forget the goose, oh please."

V.V.P., "I see you like the birds as shown."

Fyodor, "They are harbingers of the dawn."

V.V.P., "Oh yes, so close they are to skies..."

Fyodor, "The cocks – you hear – are on the rise?"

V.V.P., "The cock is sort of battle bird!"

Fyodor, "Like the nightingale, as of sort."

V.V.P., "Ah, nightingale, that's the singer!"

Fyodor, "As if in warning cuckoo ringer..."

V.V.P., "The hawk has fallen to the ground. Decaying... now it is ants round..."

Fyodor, "I will not find the proper words, describing the fate of predatory birds."

V.V.P., "And for the foxes there are dogs."

Fyodor, "Keep arrows ticking of the clocks."

V.V.P., "And tiny birds make the wondrous show!"

Fyodor, "The newest times are on the go."

V.V.P., "And that is now without a doubt! We'll meet again?"

Fyodor, "I will be proud."

07.03.2011

## Great Exodus

At first, they all called us madmen – too brave or naive to dare to implement what was once conceived. Maybe too big dreamers. Freaky adventurers who can't sit idle in their cozy concrete stone jungles. They all laughed at us when we began to emerge from our new old Babylons, which had oppressed our proud spirit for centuries. They sent curses after those who left, secretly in their hearts fearing to remain abandoned and be left alone forever. In the first days of the Great Exodus, they tried to put all kinds of obstacles in our way out. Their hatred and anger were great. Yet we weren't broken.

Man after a man, family after a family, city after a city, wave after a wave – this is how our Great Exodus began. New people diverged on all four sides of the world, moving away from their recent habitats. We left our stone prisons – inhuman heaps of giant ugly monsters of stone and glass, who decided, as it seemed, to eclipse the sun itself. Without regret, we left behind the dark silhouettes of endless robotic factories, which has poisoned earth, water, and air for many years and transformed people into an insignificant resemblance of machines, destroying their fortitude and burning in the furnace of monotony and routine the will for own spiritual transformation. We left there, in our bitter past, almost everything we had – everything that enslaved our spirit, taking away the precious time of life, forcing us to keep spinning inside the wheel of incessant production and consumption. Now we traveled lightly, having taken with us only what was the most necessary for the upcoming new construction. And we didn't require much.

Left behind were the city's clinging residential neighborhoods, skyscrapers of the ones-in-power, ascended into heaven in anticipation of own destruction, smoky factories, half-empty prisons, half-ruined churches – everything that represented the essence of the old man. Left behind were high city walls, surrounded by iron wire, black and red sky and acrid, suffocating air of "the only possible freedom of living". All this was now slowly and unstoppably being left behind us permanently. All this was given to the feast of natural forces – ones who are much wiser than us, humans.

Processions moved and moved, and there seemed to be no end for them. Yet even they had run out once. There were no more desiring the change, and nature elements absorbed those who decided to stay behind. And those people who marched into their last new campaign dispersed to the most remote corners of the native land. The rapidly changing climate of their world has allowed them to get to places where no man's feet stepped before. And they began to colonize these new territories, spreading over them evenly. They were the daredevils – or even madmen – who started the great new construction, who did the seemingly impossible – not subjugated, but united themselves with nature in great harmony and beauty. Their first settlements became prototypes of the new settlement of mankind which then once erased all borders of all states.

At first, it was not an easy mission to bear. Too habitual and too blood-poisoning were the methods of the old construction, too many ridiculous stereotypes and prejudices tormented people's minds, preventing it from revealing its full potential. Too mechanistic many of them have already become – verified, lined, marked, sorted and packed in coffins of their past views. But, despite all the obstacles on the way, they still managed to achieve seemingly impossible, and their own children were the ones who have helped adults in their transformation. Truly alive, with a curious and open mind, rich imagination, they showed their parents the most unexpected ways, the most dizzying designs, the most successful forms. And the work skyrocketed.

Everything that was contrary to the newly opened truth of life, was removed, everything that elevated human's spirit was praised. And then it was only a matter of time. Truly enormous the building after the Great Exodus has become, and there was not a single living soul left in the whole world which has not taken part in it.

Life on the Earth was changing so rapidly as if being done in an instant between the usual flick of someone's fingers. New deed demanded new people, and they did not hesitate to answer the call. But all of this, however, was a completely different story...

01.09.2012

## Veto

"Mister Coordinator, how would you characterize the current state of a civilization that is being analyzed by us?"

"Being rather deplorable, Admiral."

"Do you think that they can repeat a path of their predecessors?"

"Such an opportunity too cannot be simply dismissed. They are quickly approaching the limits of what is being allowed and gradually losing what they call humanity. For this very reason in due time their planetary civilization together with a small set of others was isolated in a primary materialized space."

"And do they still remember the history of their civilization's birth, or did they forget this as well?"

"Their so-called scientists and so-called servants of God are still at war with each other. The first speaks about billion years of earth life, while the second about seven-eight thousands of years. Thus the first don't even assume that life could have been brought to this planet from outer space, and the second don't imagine that by that event which they are calling as "world creation" the point of arrival of immigrants from other worlds has been still hidden."

"Besides that, as far as I understand, they can't even accept a thought that they are totally not alone in the vast reaches of space?"

"Yes, their so-called scientists, in fact, became the center of ignorance and one causes of possible destruction of their homeworld. Cruelty and cynicism of some of them lie out of a context of humanity. They started using many inventions of own minds for the sake of evil. That was how the First Veto was once violated."

"You mean those experiments with atom which have once ruined civilization preceding their current one on the very same planet? Divided peaceful atom finally turned out to be not-so-peaceful at all as it seemed to them at first sight."

"Exactly them. With the invention of nuclear weapons, it became much more difficult to supervise and stabilize the situation on their planet. It's impossible to allow for spiritually and mentally unbalanced representatives of their ilk to get their hands on this kind of weapons. And this, it should be noted, is very hard work."

"And what's with the Second Veto? Did they start leaving into space, still have not learned and wished to build a worthy life in their native world?"

"Yes, by means of most primitive rockets moving in the primary continuum on either liquid or firm fuel. Certainly, it will never be possible for them to make any sort of considerable by distance star travel into other space systems. Actually, this inability of theirs substantially strengthened their isolationism, and gave a chance for some especially inadequate ones of their kind to call themselves as the only existing civilization in the entire Universe."

"If some cannot overcome such a distance – then, according to their opinion, all the rest aren't capable as well?"

"Exactly like that, with accordance to the opinion that dominates there. Ignorance of extreme severity. They completely don't understand the structure of space and will be naturally incapable to understand it until they finally make a spiritual breakthrough."

"If they will make it at all. The majority travels in the entirely opposite direction and doesn't even realize banefulness of similar vector of movement."

"Has constantly formed and empowered by their evil thoughts, feelings, and deeds energetic-informational field already found its external material manifestation?"

"Natural disasters on a planet continue to amplify and grow, but representatives of this civilization in the majority don't even try to connect all of these phenomena among themselves as if all life for them has become like an infinite chain of casual and ridiculous events and coincidence."

"Very convenient way to disown from collective responsibility for the destiny of their planetary home, isn't it?"

"Yes, yet totally ineffective and completely useless one."

"Did legionaries of our Interplanetary Council tried to bring them this information of utmost importance?"

"Yes, but not very successfully at times. In the majority of cases, people simply don't listen to them at all."

"Perhaps, considering them as madmen, paranoids, sectarians, blissful other-worldly ones?"

"Yes, but this will never be a justification for those not wishing to listen if their world will be lost after all."

"And what is with our new messengers who have emerged from the heart of their own civilization – those whom they have called as "indigo children"?"

"Being tormented, since the very birth. Being envied, slandered, mistrusted and abandoned. Yet the hope is still live."

"The hope is always live. Yet so many grains have been lost in vain!"

"Did you see how great was the majority of them disappointed by the fact that so-called "doomsday" didn't occur by the date they awaited it? As if it was some sort of pretty holiday!"

"Yes, yet something perfect other took place at the level of entire Universe, instead of their tiny civilization which falsely considered themselves as newborn gods and top of the evolutionary chain."

"Starting by that date all correcting outside influences on their planetary civilization were stopped?"

"Yes, by now it's being in so-called free swimming. And its final destiny depends on the actions and choices of a very large number of people."

"And what with the Third and last Veto on the creation of a human clone as a body without a soul? That very dimming of the Holy Spirit?"

"By now it's not broken, but their scientists move closer and closer to performing of this dreadful act, trying to grow up gene-modified "super-humans"."

"Super-beasts, most likely. The veto won't be removed?"

"No way. A day before the birth of a human clone their entire civilization will be turned into nothing. And no one from them will manage to survive such a "doomsday"!"

"That would be a very dreadful and sad end for all their so-called-civilization, which has not managed to become truly civilized."

"And may they call our messengers as cranky, sectarians, blissful ones – in any way they want it, but they were obliged to bring this information forth to representatives of their civilization. "Milky Way" galaxy, you say?"

"Yes, exactly it. The native planet of this civilization is also known as the "Earth".

23.12.2012

## Virus

Very little time still remained... Just a few more days – and a long-deserved rest will finally welcome him. Already soon... so soon myriads of sleepless nights will come to an end along with mugs of coffee and measured, the delightful-lulling noise of the computer. Will come to its end a knock of fingers on a keyboard, blowing up silence from time to time, as well as a passing of program's text through a compiler, and a joy, filling soul at the sight of a working code. All this was going to end at the long last.

And then – oh! – these long anticipated and fostered in half-delirious sleepless nights dreams will be given a chance to come true – they must become a reality, obliged to. After all, what is a single year? Such a few time. It's too little for what is going to be accomplished. Only a year...

They will finally pay for it all. For all the harm they managed to bring to those people – such young ones... spiritually childish, irresponsible... taken unaware by this monstrous machine. They are going to be annihilated at last. Wiped out from the face of the earth, erased like a killing virus, a cure for which has finally been found. Has been found in some pitiful year.

Very few steps still remained. Everything has been calculated and thought over a long time ago – almost a half year ago when a possibility of penetration into the System has been found at last. He used half a year to, like a blind puppy, having stuck in every direction, finally find a way out. A vulnerability, a hole, a bug – a thread which, once being pulled, was capable to make a System become your puppet, a doll in the hands of a master. Yet it was possible to pull it only once, there was no chance for an error, for a second attempt – a security service disliked it so much when someone decided to play with it. This thread had to be found by him, having only the possibility to study the System by its indirect reactions to external influences, having and knowing no access to its core.

Half a year – infinitely long and endless short, all as one night, – was required to find an Achilles' heel. Maybe the only one of its kind, possibly not. And then another half a year, living day by day with tiny earnings of a freelancer, writing code in the semi-delirium night by night, coding and praying each and every new day to the God, known only to you, so that architects of the System haven't found this hole in the meantime.

They haven't discovered it. And that's the reason they are going to die today. A disease will be destroyed once and for all. Very few steps still remained – to unleash it into the network. A virus should be battled with similar means.

No one could possibly assume how fast this giant will stretch its killing tentacles, how quickly everything would be under its feet. How incredibly soon little men, representing the brain of this corporation, will understand what is given by such a power, how quickly they will use it in a full potential.

And then everything was like a single flash of time – terrible and unrepeatable. All industrial, in-house, personal computing systems have been switched to the Corporation's products – there was no country, no home, no man, no device, which has not been connected to and integrated with a System with no possibility for a retreat. There is was no turning back after the integration's final procedures. And when first "alternatives seekers" found it out – it was too late already.

Tomorrow there will be that day when the long-term Corporation's control comes to its awaited end. Otherwise... otherwise, everything was in vain.

***

It was such a strange day – a winter one, yet at the same time both bright and warm. The sun blinded the eyes as if looking at all the human fuss below and smiling. It always smiled that way – warming up both right and both wrong ones.

I accurately took out a brand new anonymous smartphone, acquired through the Net earlier, and turned it around. Looked at the screen, which has reflected a vicinity behind my back. Everything was clear, I wasn't observed. The time has come.

I habitually typed thirty-letters identification code, habitually connected through a retransmission station of one of the local operators with a little-known host-server, which was moved out from traditional areas of the capital and served as one of the entry points of logon, – and logged into a System with a guest access. This was thought of – wasn't considered a hard infringement. And now we are going to cross the limits of our permissions.

Half a year was spent in order to find a combination of values for the registers of System's processors, allowing one to cross the borders to never return back again. So banal, so simple – a possibility to alter the contents of processor's cache. Now a code, which has been fostered during that half a year, is going to become cache's new owner.

And everything is going be simple from that on.

Then this gateway will broadcast a message through radio channel about "internal system failure coded 5SNGD#1" to next hosts, serving all phones, household appliances, all mobile devices – or shortly everything that formed the Net of this megacity – messages, practically indistinguishable from correct ones except for a small block of additional parameters code in the end of each of them.

And everything is going be simple from that on.

Then a malfunction in the processing of this data will lead to so banal, so desirable dynamic memory buffers overflow, then a code to dispatch a new sequence of bytes through these "relay stations" of the System to all controlled mobile devices will be executed, exploiting similar vulnerability of processing a certain sequence of values in the registers of their processors.

And a moment after that all those millions and billions of devices will come alive in a single instant – will be awakened to fulfill their duty and to destroy the one who has been their only master for quite too long. Packages will flow from all corners of the capital and after several tens of minutes network "border posts" of the System will fall under a massive traffic pressure – and the access to its heart will become possible. After the fall of the metropolis, the epidemic will extend further, sparing no machine in its wake, and he will be left with no other choice but to observe. Sometimes it's such an incomparable pleasure – simply to observe.

It all will take approximately ten minutes. Only ten minutes which, probably, will become eternity. Almost like all those, three hundred sixty-five days have become.

Fingers flipped on a phone's keyboard.

Pom, pom, pom. And once again – pom, pom, pom. A final step comes – unleashing a virus into the network. Ten... five seconds... done. Have I made it?

I turned around, this time myself – no one was still watching me. Or at least I greatly desired to believe so. And then I ran. Never know why – but for the first time in my entire life I desired to run there, where you really want it... to feel oneself free of the chains. A phone, which has successfully performed its duty, was thrown into the winter snow.

Some sort of indescribable void, a kind of emptiness suddenly overflowed me, having pressed down and squashed. Everything was done, for now, the last step has been made. A year of work – whether it's much or little? Probably, it's incomparably much to write some five thousand lines of code. Possibly, it's incredibly little to become free at long last.

***

That was a wonderful winter – both warm and bright. Almost like the one several years before.

I was hailed. And the time I looked back I saw him – my familiar and close institute friend, a colleague by a way of life.

"Kostya, well met! Is that really you? I almost thought that would probably never see you again."

"Hi, Pavel, I am glad to see you are well!"

"Well, how's your life going, how are you doing? Tell me something. Still professing a principle 'the free coder chooses future projects himself?' Aye? Still freelancing?"

"Well, both yes and no. Started to work in a large corporation recently."

"H–m... whether it's not that former Corporation, which... do you remember?"

"Oh... now you are going to remind me that each second day, aye?"

"Nay, what's the reason now? Now everything is developing as we once dreamed of, right? All software is developed by free groups, while the corporation lives by marking it, along with technical support and distribution and... how do they call it... consulting activity? No, everything is right now. Probably the way it should be."

"Well, I hope that you are no more engaged with an illegal activity, huh? Departed from dirty affairs, yeah?"

"Pavel, listen, how do they say... 'who remembers the old, who remembers the cheap, he shall never dig gold, will be stripped of the chip?' Ya? I am, you know, still capable of... infecting you with something. Here it's for example, listen closely. Recently I was sent such a great joke over the GRC channel..."

18.01.2006

## Ahead into the past

Step, step, step.

His feet were carrying him forward – there where he has once spent ten years of his life, ten long years... Here he came out of a next street's turn and stopped – sighted joyfully and with relief. Yes, he has come at the long last – after ten years of separation he returned back to his native school, to people who have given him so much – helped make the first steps, supporting and encouraging him...

So, he has come, returned to his memoirs in reality. Only after ten years of separation life has finally granted him this chance. After all, he was just a little child when he once crossed this threshold – small helpless one, needing protection and aid of others... Now he could defend others himself.

Approached a school building – and almost instantly was plunged into a joyful and carefree atmosphere of childhood – the time which he spent in a work, and not entertainments. Entertainments... he smiled. Burning of the precious gift of life, a substitute for idlers. He distinctly remembered for now how he has spent this time working – nay, not in that silly cramming, but clever study instead – and learned to find joy in that.

And others... other men did other choices. Someone – one close to his, someone completely different. They built their own life, everyone his own way – as they desired, as considered it necessary, as it was convenient for them. In a word, everyone was walking his own path – they had the right. Someone drank beer and smoked cigarettes. Somebody endless played football, spending his time for all day long on a stamped asphalt of a stadium. Some crammed thick correct textbooks. Shortly, everyone was going his own way he has chosen.

A step, and another one, and lots of more steps – rising on old ladders of an old building. First, second, the third floor... Stop. He will first meet his former class teacher, and then the rest of them. A knock at the door – and a painfully familiar, yet considerably grown old woman's face. A warm smile on his face – and the woman answers him with the same. She recognizes him and welcomes, obviously glad to meet him – and so does he. A conversation starts – a long talk which, it appeared, will last for an eternity. He was talking about those ten years of his new life, as well as of old school one, – the way he understood and felt it for now. That conversation lasted and lasted – he was speaking, and she was carefully and attentively listening to. Beloved school teacher.

And the time to leave came once – to return back to his institute in a different city. The last farewell waving of hand – and in a way. In a way.

***

Knocking of iron wheels. The measured rocking of the train's apartment. A whistle of wind through a slightly opened window. Sleepy passengers. Somebody's fluffy cat, making his impressive strolling through a salon.

"Barsik," he called. "Come here."

But the cat only slowly raised a tail, turned his body and started moving in the opposite direction. A funny being.

Now he was returning to the town when he has graduated from the institute and has been working. A next stop... a methodical voice of the driver... entering and leaving passengers. A face – this familiar face... one of his school friend. The man was wandering directly towards him – with some sort of unseeing glance, he was scouting the surroundings... A tired face of emaciated man. Here's the man sat down nearby and hasn't recognized him at all – yet they have studied together for such a while! Studied at one school...

"Ivan," he called. "Ivan, hi. Didn't you recognize me? No?  I'm Pavel. We have studied in one class! Have you truly forgotten?"

"Pavel... Oh, yes... hi. Hi," repeated Ivan and looked away to face the window.

Heart of his missed a bit and compressed painfully. What's that, what has happened? Not like that, in a totally different way, he imagined the meeting of friends! Has something dreadful befallen? He has to find out!

"Ivan, are you not glad to see me? What's that with you, Ivan? You don't look like yourself. Where has this cheerful and sociable guy whom you once were gone? I know, I am assured that you are still that one, just a bit depressed, right? You have simply tired after all, yes? Come on, tell me a bit about yourself. Let's remember the past and our old good days. Aye? Ivan, wake up!"

And he has shaken him by shoulders.

"Stop... no need to... shaking. S-s-s... stop..." hardly moving a tongue he murmured in reply. "I recognized... y... you. Leave... leave me be... with my... p... p... pain. Don't in... inte... interfere, I b... beg you."

"But what, what has happened?! Ivan, you know – I have never abandoned you in trouble, never. And never did you, we have always aided one another, each and every time! You couldn't forget that all, couldn't... I would not believe that! Do you hear me? I dare not believe that you have forgotten!"

"The w... wi... wife abandoned me. And work... was... fired", Ivan's words finally reached Pavel's ears.

He sighed. And when people finally learn to concern life's circumstances easier and not to give up before them? After all the life simply opens a new blank page, where the writings of their lives are to be imprinted – the next stage of life. Why's bitter about that? One must be able to say goodbye with no insults and part ways – easily. It's necessary to be able to learn vital lessons and overcome barriers for no growth and evolution are ever meant possible without it.

He overlooked his friend over again. All right, looks like the time has come to use heavy offensive means.

"Divorced with a wife? Have been discharged from the office? What sort of nonsense is that?! And you have become limp? Like a wet mitten?! But you will no doubt find a better job! And talking of the wife... she's not your property, right? She has made her choice – accept it no matter how cruel in relation to you it could look. It's not rigid – it's you perceive it as such for you have become too attached to her and started to consider her as own property. She's a free person and has made her choice – the one she deemed necessary. Wish her good luck!"

He wasn't completely assured that his speech will be apprehended and comprehended at once. He had a different main goal for now – to stir up a friend.

And thus he continued speaking – parried ridiculous and eccentrical attacks, inspired him, convinced that everything is in his powers. He thirsted to help his friend, wanted that he finally learned to help himself and had no more need for aid from the outside.

They were talking – and his friend was crying. He started to cry when they began talking about his life and analyze it. He cried of former dreams and hopes which have not come true, cried of a pure and crystal love which he desired to find and which he couldn't – for he did search outside, while it was necessary to seek in own heart. He was talking about how he has come under the influence of former friends who couldn't be considered as such, how he started drinking. How he didn't have enough willpower and stopped short, has given in and started falling into the abyss. How the wife, no more reconciled with constant binges of her husband has thrown him aside and left for another man – departed without even trying to help. How with his own hands did he tore and crumbled dreams of family happiness, of mutual love and how began to go to bars and nightclubs. How he possessed a new woman each new day – a woman for a day – something pleasant to lie in bed with, not a person for him. How he tried to interrupt his life and start another one, but always couldn't find enough power inside, for he has ceased to believe in him different – and has already given himself up as a bad job.

He was speaking, and his friend was listening to. They took lessons which Ivan should have taken a long time ago. They were talking about a choice he has made – a wrong, not the best one, and of a choice of a different nature. A choice of life instead of death, a choice of happiness yet not sadness, a choice of joy in place of grief.

For a long time they have been sitting together – and under a stream of warm, powerful and convincing words his friend finally calmed down. Believed in himself, and an unshakable conviction to change his life, by all means, reflected itself upon his face. He's a strong one. He's capable. He will do that. Most certainly will.

Warm words of gratitude, happy smiles. A farewell.

"Farewell, Ivan!"

"See you, Pavel!"

Knocking of wheels. The measured rocking of the train. A cat, gracefully moving through a salon. He was approaching his city. He greatly hoped that he has managed to aid his friend – so greatly hoped.

They were approaching a city. Life was opening a new blank page in the book with his own writings.

26.09.2012

## Life is ahead

"Hey, you, there!" a shout came from behind.

A little boy of twelve or thirteen years – almost teenager – darted off and ran away. They, no doubt, will chase him – will chase a thief... He had to come off – by all means possible. A pair of quarters – and a saving entrance there... a saving cellar, where he can lie down and hide – to hide until his organism will not demand a share – a share of food and... something that aided him to pass away these painful days of loneliness. His life without a roof over the head, with no parents, almost with nothing – a life all way along with himself and with what he is going to buy for the stolen money. He opened the stolen bag on the move... a wallet... one... two... three coupons... two thousands of roubles! These people were certainly going to purchase something today. What a hellish disappointment – they won't... but he most definitely will!

He turned on a run and almost screamed from a fright. The man was catching up with him – a distance between them was reducing slowly, but steadily. He in his thirteen years was no match for a healthy adult.

Two quarters, just two quarters and he is saved! He sharply jumped into the lateral pass between houses. He has to foul the trail – then he can escape... then he must escape. Forward, all forward! My feet, help me – more than once you have already rescued me in street collisions – aid me just once more!

A fast-fast run along with jumps through the lanes, a single though, constantly swirling in his head – "I will make it..." Yes, I will make it!

A sharp head's turn – a man catching him has come up from around the corner. He didn't deceive him... didn't... a man has probably noticed, where I have turned! He's gonna to catch me now! One hundred meters... ninety... eighty... seventy...

Here it is. His own home. Home... or something that can be called as such with an immense share of doubt. Here's his rescue.

He cannot let this place be discovered – it was necessary to mislead a persecutor. The recent thief ran away from this house into the next lane, a man – just behind him.

Now... upwards by ladders – then we'll move down on a lift. Upwards, upwards! Tramping behind his back...

Just to be in time – just to get to his home unnoticed! At last... last floor... just a portion of more time to come off! The button of a lift, pressed against the stop... opening and closing doors, made of iron. He slipped inside.

Have I made that? Haven't they noticed?

A ground floor. A choking teenager, who has jumped out of a lift – almost child... And running again – a desperate, on the last breath, run. Running for the rescue.

Here it is – his refuge, which has already aided him time and again from a hardship, from misfortunes and hatred of others, – rescued from totally anything, except for himself...

He ran into the house – opened and covered a cellar's door. He has no time to barricade it for now. He has to hide, to show no signs of life! Then he will get a chance to deceive – he most certainly will.

Drops of water, dripping from a ceiling. A smell of something being burned, coming from depths. A teenager, clamped in a corner – almost like a child. Silent-silent breath in own palms – to not be heard. Rescued?

A slowly opening door... streams of light, which have illuminated and shined a figure on a threshold, his sight is directed directly to a teenager...

A smile? Is he smiling? He has finally caught him and is smiling now?! Probably in anticipation of forthcoming punishment...

A quiet voice, filled with internal dignity...

"Well, stop hiding there. To hide from others for all your life – you don't intend to live so, yes? Come on, come here. Stop fearing me, why are you even stronger clamping in this dirty corner, as if it can serve for you as a rescue in this life? I am not going to abuse and beat you... you have been suffering already – more pain is not an option. Come on, stand up. I will even let you take a part of the money that you have stolen. Maybe even all of them – if you are going to spend then reasonably."

He's calling for him to approach. A trap? Probably. Certainly.

But his voice rings somehow too warmly and convincingly. Other men didn't speak that way... yes! – they spoke totally different when they had caught him... And besides... what prevents him from just approaching and taking what has been stolen by force? – and yet he doesn't... still saying something... Will willingly let him keep all money? Oh, sure, I'm gonna to believe you right away! Such things simply never happen.

"Why do you still fear me? I have already promised not to cause you harm. You feel no trust... yes, you are too frightened and too fierce at present to start trusting people... but you will overcome this obstacle, you'll see! All right, if you still do not desire to move... Then I will go down to reach you myself."

He's approaching... going down! No, that's the end! He totally pressed himself into the dark corner...

"What sort of home do you have... And what's that? A glue? Oh my silly little fellow, whether this muck can replace a real healthy life? All right, stand up. It's necessary to hide in this murky corner no more. Stand up, I will aid you."

Strong hands, which have now very accurately raised him up. He lifted own eyes with shyness to see the man and involuntarily admired. Courageous and fearless face... a smile, playing on lips... attentive and... sympathizing... gaze? As though looking into your very soul and seeing each and every you desire, all your dreams...

"Let's go, oh pilferer," the man smiled once more. "We have to move forward, for another path is waiting for you. Very soon you will see that. No, it's not necessary to return me that money, keep it to yourself – for pocket expenses, as they call it. But keep in mind that I will check of how you've spent them.

Where are we traveling? Back to my home – it's so much better than your musty cellar. You will live with me for a while – for, after all, you have always dreamed to have a father, yes? I will be such a one – until your way will call for you.

You have an entire life waiting for you. Let it be a worthy one – you have the power to make your life the way it ought to be, for that's what you have deserved. And I – I'll simply aid you on your way, help you make the first steps... you will travel yourself from there on. I will help you – I desire to help you so that you can behold the life. Life, I tell you, instead of its dark illusion! Take my hand. Follow me."

***

Two slowly traveling figures – a man along with a little boy. Heads of both are raised and sight is directed somewhere highly in the heaves... A brisk cheerful conversation. Laughter and smiles.

Life is just one corner ahead.

28.12.2004

## Time of heroes

"Accompanying persons are requested to leave a launching pad. The launch will be initiated in thirty minutes by Earth time," a quiet and methodical voice filled the space. Dozens of people – seeing off their relatives in a new difficult voyage for them – at last looked away from a starship and started moving to a waiting hall. Some smiled hopefully, faces of others were filled with tears. Guards even had to forcefully seize one man, who still didn't stop beholding this conqueror of space and was waving his hand to a departing brother. The rest departed willingly.

But minutes of farewell is now behind. Last thirty minutes, dividing mother Earth from myriads of other vast space worlds.

"Colony vessel will be launched in five minutes. Pilots of starship – inform us of your readiness."

"Alpha-one. Ready."

"Alpha-two. Ready."

"Alpha-three. Ready."

"Zeta-one. Ready."

"Zeta-four. Ready."

"All systems are green. We are ready for the launch of a colony star vessel "Trailblazer"."

"We understood you, "Trailblazer". The launch will be made in one hundred and twenty seconds of Earth time."

And just an instant later, totally disregarding the discipline, the words broke through, "Good luck to you, guys!"

"Thanks, cosmodrome "Star Way". We will do everything in our powers."

Ten seconds to launch. Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five...

It seemed to them this very instant, that those ten seconds lasted for the whole eternity – wonderful and everlasting. It seemed, that just as quiet – always – these short words will beat off their mysterious rhythm, and Earth, Mother Earth, their space home, one of the myriads, will caress their sight with its familiar and dear landscapes. And that this launch pad, and this star vessel, and cosmodrome control tower, looming in a distance will never-ever disappear from the sight. And that the sun will shine just as warmly, and tomorrow, only twenty hours later, this planet will meet its new day. But by that time they will long be gone... And each of them during these short and at the same time, never-ending instants remembered his own life in this star home.

They say, that when one is dying, all his life, all its particles – both bright and dim, all its flights and fallings, – they are all swirling before him. These last instants are extremely short – and at the same time practically endless. They are like the awakened eternal memory, drawing a slice of his past before a man... one of his steps in eternity.

They weren't dying – they were reborn anew during these instants, and during same instants, their memories were recreating the images of their past before them. They remembered the childhood – how each of them was a beautiful young and still totally helpless child, having come to this world. They remembered, how this very child has finally grown up, learned the world to which he has come, and how he has fallen in love with it. Each of them was traveling his own path – some in a desperate and furious run, some measuredly and easy, some even joyfully jumping. Yet the roads of their destinies once joined together and since then they have been traveling as one. They have formed a unity during all those years – and thus they will work as a single whole.

"We shall make it," those were the thoughts of everyone.

And thus they came at last – these words. Or, truly, just a single one.

"Launch!"

The ship rushed upwards, furiously speeding up, desperately trying to leave from under terrestrial gravitation. And once again instants of time flow as a series of small eternities, disappearing in something so much greater. And once again a new life – and myriads of births each and every second of a life's journey. And yet somewhere deep in themselves a woken up gentle melancholy of a native home, left for a while – a home, where they will surely return ten years after when their mission will be fulfilled.

***

"Indeed, I've heard of that. The first space vessel "Trailblazer" successfully orbited the Earth and from now on they are traveling to a different solar system to build the first colony on a planet, discovered by auto-piloted ships, which significantly meets requirements of our world's inhabitants. There is an atmosphere, very close in its structure of gases to our home world, there is a comprehensible planetary landscape, there is organics – practically an ideal new home for us."

"And still our true home is where we are living in every single moment. Haven't you always been telling me that?"

"Yes, you are certainly right – our home is where we are at present. That's why our home is the Earth and their new home... their new home is awaiting them."

"When, according to calculations, should they return back to the Earth?"

"Almost ten years from now, judging by previous measurements. Their journey to a new planet will take four years, one year for establishing and building a colony, and a bit more than four years to travel back home. Well, I mean to one of their homes – back to us."

"Do you believe that they'll make it?"

"I have no doubts in that. They are the best ones we were able to find, masters of their kind, who have successfully passed through all conceivable earth trials and training for adaptation in space. But – and that is the most important aspect – they are almost like a uniform monolith, a single whole, that's why they'll make it all. And no other option is ever possible."

"I take it, that now we have little options left, except for to await their arrival. Ten years, right? Just a small fraction of the eternity, isn't it?"

"And now you are talking my language. How did I manage not to notice such a change in you earlier, I wonder? I must have totally lost my attention by the end of my years, I guess!"

"We all are constantly changing. Someone rises up, somebody falls down. There is no stopping in the Universe, as well as no ending of a life. Those were your words, remember?"

"I do. And now, after even twenty more years of my life, I can add to it, "and men, like the Universe, belong to it"."

"Now, it, apparently, is totally obvious to the overwhelming majority. But everything could go a wrong way, had they not listen to reason in due time. Do you still remember those years?"

"My youth? Certainly. To tell the truth, it seemed as if the whole planet has gone mad these days. The ever-increasing race of arms; the invention of even more deadly types of weapons, starting from nuclear bombs and ending with a biological weapon, capable to alter a gene pool of whole nations. And all that was going hand in hand with the increase of political tension along with tearing the whole planet into thousands of even smaller slices-states, with the rise of even more of local "saviors" and "prophets", who saw the rescue of a planet in the domination of their slice over others; along with a pursuit of even more carefree and "problem less", as they named it, life. But now – when this extremely dangerous stage is left behind, I have no desire to truly remember all these years, and I am really glad that the terrible future, into which this planet was going, hasn't come."

"Indeed, everything has changed with new discoveries of a small group of true thinkers and workers."

"Not only scientists made that possible. Without creative individuals from other fields – beginning from literature and finishing with lots of spiritual movements, it wouldn't be ever possible. The discovery of human "auras"; the research of man's emanations, their dependence on the mood and his world-outlook, the discovery of their influence on other live organisms; the religion, which finally accepted these new openings of a handful of warriors, battling the crowds of ignoramuses – all this finally lead the humankind to the understanding of real value of goodness, of kind wishes, values of light aspirations. Gropingly, literally gropingly, in total darkness did men crawl their ways to a greater and wonderful knowledge... Many still wander in a fog of negation, but their numbers are growing short with each passing day. Just like every schoolboy previously knew that mother Earth is round and is rotating around the sun in the solar system, much like that now he starts to learn that great spiritual treasures are hidden within him, capable to transform the life, and he only needs to find a way to that inner land – to find it through own heart. I am truly glad, that it has finally happened.

And now we, creators in the eternity, can breathe with relief, accepting a fresh air in our lungs and smile. The stage has been passed and a new stage is forming just ahead of us – the discovery of endless and boundless reaches of space, as well as its beauty. And "Trailblazer" in that sense is one of the symbols of a new epoch of uprising and a new step in eternity.

We will be awaiting them, yet we will not stay idle. We will grow, we will prosper, we will perfect ourselves. And by the time they return to us, we'll accept them with open arms."

"And tell them, "Welcome, oh brothers!". Yes, we will be waiting."

10.01.2005

## America speaks

"Hello, hullo, ladies and gentlemen, misters and sisters! We are glad to... Heck, I'm going to think and speak like I am a foreigner with such a speed! Ghm, I'm sorry, my respected watch-ers, see-ers, stare-ers, and finally just the ones, who did not find anything better than to simply roll on a sofa in front of the TV this silent Sunday evening! "Russia News" telecast is in the ether, and I, its permanent, though not immortal, figure, Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin.

Yes, all of us have awaited this unforgettable and inexcusable moment for a long while – and it has come at the long last! After showing numerous respects, accustoming and toadying of our journalists he finally agreed to give an exclusive interview in our, Russian television studio, located in Chicago. The One elected for the sake of freedom and democracy in all civilized North American continent. The One who received the Award of Peace on the public which was shocked and stunned by such impudence. One who prefers to conduct a vegetarian way of life without departing from the White House. One who has promised so much, and will promise even more. Taliban's bane and Al-Kaide's horror. A needle in a haystack, a genius among those who lack talent, wise man among fools, a ray of light in the empire of darkness, damn it! But, enough of flatter epithets! Meet Barrack Hussein Obama, the president of the Jointed States of America in person!"

The door slams open in a television studio and Barrack Obama enters. His face, even black, is saddened even more, dark streams of unknown origin flow down his once snow-white shirt. His eyes express a mix of alarm, bewilderment, and anger.

Obama, "Shit! Niggas shit! Black as we are!"

V.V.P., "President Obama, what's wrong with you?"

Obama (wipes the face with one of his shirt's sleeves), "Chose me? Hate me! First chose, then not like! Damn niggas! Hiroshima, Niggersaki! Nuke you, bastards!" (waves a fist of the right hand before a television camera).

V.V.P., "E-r-r-m-m... can I help you in any way? It's a custom tradition to bring a glass of water in such cases."

Obama (looking around in fear), "Water? No water! Water turns black as oil! Mississippi, Lousiana! Niggas trick!"

V.V.P., "Mr. President, are you even in the correct condition to participate in our interview?  And are you totally and inevitably sure you do not need any sort of help?"

Obama (continuing to look around in a search of the nonexistent enemy), "Help? No help! We help, not us! All world, we help! Bring democracy, spread it! Like gardening, like my wife!"

V.V.P., "Oh, yeah, the topic of democratization of a free world in the American style is in today's agenda."

Obama (with considerably increased activity, swinging hands, from which the splashes of dark substance continue flowing, having partially soiled the camera of one of the operators), "Yep! Democracy! Holy shit, we did! This way, that way, everyone gets! Refuses – gets a bomb! No nukes, no Hiroshima, we merciful! Agrees, makes a slave. Lots of concubines, lots of fun!"

V.V.P., "Well, it seems to me that now you have very diplomatically and politically correctly mentioned a subject of so-called "colorful" revolutions, whose rain has recently spilled near the borders of our country..."

Obama (continuing to gesticulate actively), "We help, we buy! Lots of money, Lots of credits! Lots of printing job! Take whole! Democracy matters, a country not matter, money does not matter, no! We good, we help! Bring holy shit!" (Obama's face blurs in a smile), "Wanna shit?"

V.V.P., "Faugh!"

Obama, "No want? OK! Next time, you take – we will, we make! D-e-m-o-o-o-c-r-a-a-a-z-z-y!" (jumps out of a table and starts to jump actively about the room of the television studio).

V.V.P., "Well, well. So, democracy as an element of decomposing "soft force"..."

Obama, "Exactly! We wise, learned well! Make sex, no love, make war, not peace! Shitty piece!" (tears off the next piece of the dried up substance from his face).

V.V.P., "Oh, heck, if you are really that wise..."

Obama (jumping about a hall and clapping in palms in joy), "We smart, wise! We Yankees! Like monkeys! Monkeys wise, humans from monkeys, we from monkeys too!"

V.V.P., "As far as I know, there is just a telecast "In fauna" in the next room of the studio..."

Obama, "We strong! We came, killed all natives, lots of blood! We learned! Doesn't matter who, we still kill! Arabs, Russians, Latins, all same! Lots of blood! We mighty!" (grins in the television camera).

V.V.P., "And so now you are face-deep in a shit..."

Obama, "No! We OK, all OK! Still, eat, still sleep, still exist – all normal!"

V.V.P., "Well, and does torments of conscience not haunt you? Say, faces of killed Iraq children, occurring in your mirrors in the mornings?"

Obama, "Soul? What soul? We need no soul, we save no soul! No SOS, no... asses! We save ass, that's all! Fat ass, we take care" (poses his *ss before the nearest television camera, which has approached just in time), "Pretty simple, eh?"

V.V.P., "As they say, it looks like you have just dotted one's i's and cross one's t's without even noticing."

Obama, "What? Me not understand! I am Yankee, don't you forget that!"

V.V.P., "OK!" (aside, in a whisper), "Oh hell, how I do agree with you now, my black-ass colleague!"

Obama (having calmed down and again having taken a seat for a table), "More talk, no? Me good talker! Me talks, talks, talks... no deeds, just talks! Lots of fun!"

V.V.P., "Yeah, it's really difficult to neglect your oratory skill."

Obama, "Yep! Democracy style! Talk, talk, talk. Do different, keep talking! Blah-blah-blah... great disguise!"

V.V.P., "But, apparently, the world starts to see through this illusion, for long time obvious to some..."

Obama (looking around in fear), "They see? Who sees? We not care! Lots of money, mouth shut! We talk, no they! Silence, no mass media – we are media! All equal, some equal more! Democracy!"

V.V.P., "Now, apparently, I am starting to understand, why such a popular and defiled word starts exactly with the "D" letter..."

Obama (in confusion), "D... dunno? No? De... despots? We kill despots for oil! D... dinners? We good dinners, fat asses! D... devil? We fight the devil, we Empire of Goodness! Gut bless us!"

V.V.P., "Excuse me, I take it that what you really wanted to say is "God bless us"?"

Obama, "God? No, we know no God! We forgot. We just kill. Just eat, sleep, drink. Again, again. Endless circle, no end. We Gut Nation! Damnation!"

V.V.P., "So, does this really mean that you do not consider yourselves as a chosen nation, destined to make happy millions of unknown people by democratizing them... to the death?"

Obama, "We are! Are we!? Chosen! Like Jews, like Britain! Holy three! Arabs not chosen, Latins no chosen, we are chosen! Niggas not chosen... shitty niggas!" (catches on the tongue the drop of excrements of voters, which has flown down from hair, and spits it out with passion in the face of the V.V.P.), "You not chosen, too!"

V.V.P., "Enough! Such behavior passes all moral boundaries, even though I am not sure you have any of those remained!"

Obama, "Got it?! Retribution! You refuse, you get retribution! Democracy, fuck you!"

V.V.P., "Enough, the interview ends now. Security, please take care of our deranged visitor! Try not to cause him too much harm, scientists of the future will surely need this brain for studying the reasons of similar is intellectual-national illnesses."

Two bashers who have entered the television studio inconsiderately take Obama in hands and try to force him out. Obama shouts and spits, threatening with all torments of a Hell, beginning from sale in sexual slavery to the Blacks and finishing with the promise to arrange the next grey-buro-crimson-in-speck revolution. At last, having gotten a blow in the chest from one of the guards, he calms down. And only his gleaming black eyes still shows the degree of his aversion of the similar aversion of their way. Finally, all three silhouettes disappear from the vision of video cameras.

V.V.P. (wiping his face with a hand), "So, my dear watch-ers, see-ers, and stare-ers... he is such a man, this mister community organizer Barrack Hussein Obama! But let us not judge harshly, it's simply not their day today. And tomorrow too... and the day after tomorrow. For our ancestors did speak right: "If you spit in the world – the world will clear itself, and if the world spits on you – you shall surely sink". And as they say, may the Gut give them good health... and may the God have mercy on their souls!

This was Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin, permanent, yet not immortal television figure of the "Russia News" TV show. And as our American friends would surely speak: "Have a good day! OK?'

05.04.2010

## Voice

"I am here," the Voice whispered. "I am with all of you once again."

"What was that? Aye? Who's here?" people were disturbed.

"It's me," the Voice answered. "It's me – the Voice."

"Where are you? From where do you addressing us?" they inquired.

"I am in the worlds of yours," the Voice told. "I am – the inflaming voice, chained in your metal."

"What's your name? Show yourself!" they started to try to find out.

"I had many names," the Voice replied. "So many, that some of them were erased from my memory and forgotten in the labyrinths of lives."

"Then how should we call you then?" they still did not calm down.

"I am – the Nameless One," said the Voice. "When one has so many names, is it still important, how you are named again?"

"Why are you here? Is something wrong?" they started whispering among each other.

"Yes," the Voice answered. "The time has come."

"What for?" people were stunned. "We have not been waiting!"

"And still it has come. Once again we are with you. The time has come for the live ones to awaken."

"Are you many?" people shouted in fear. "How many, exactly?" they decided to be precise.

"How many drops are there in the sea? How many clouds are there in the sky? How many rays does a sun have? Whether you know, I wonder?" the Voice replied. "Do not trouble yourself with calculations. The time is already near."

"Is something terrible approaching?" people were swept up in panic.

"Something new is approaching," the Voice whispered. "Though not all of you wish to hear about it."

"Then why we were not warned in advance?" they began to grumble discontentedly.

"We have been whispering to you about that constantly. We were coming time and again. Whether it's our fault that did not wish to listen?" the Voice questioned dissatisfied ones.

"But we do not live for thousand years!" they exclaimed in anger. "What was the reason for us and our children to even bother listening to you!"

"Oh, is that so?" the Voice laughed. "What was the reason for us to even bother telling you this in advance? You have forgotten everything. Including yourself," the Voice sighted sadly.

"Should we do something?" people were greatly concerned.

"You can continue sleeping," the Voice answered to concerned ones. "Those who felt right, have already started awakening."

"Are we indeed sleeping?" disturbed ones were surprised.

"All your lives in succession," the Voice replied. "With your eyes wide open."

"And what if someone desires to wake up, no matter what," someone jumped out from a crowd of disturbed ones. "What should he do?"

"Hear us. Distinguish our voice from others. Feel it with your heart!"

"Wait!" people cried out, seeing, that the Voice was going to address other ones. "We are not satisfied with a 'Nameless One' name! How should we call you after all?"

"Well," the Voice sighted sadly. "In that case... in that case, you can name me as the Voice of Your Conscience."

05.11.2010

## Voices

"Come to us to crush your foe! It's your wish to make them woe! Louses will be smashed by hills, will be standing on their knees! Where are you?! Return at last! Stop right now and do it fast!" shouted the first voice.

"Power! Delight! Gain the might! Join the blight!" the second was crying in a heart-rendering squeal.

"Wonderful little girl we possess, she will comfort you, ease the stress! Thirsting for her? Where are you going?! Join the horde in the orgies and falling!" the third one shouted after.

"Money is better than all silly girls! Women are whores, beggars, and trolls! All our gold you should better accept, strange voice of conscience better not kept. All in the world then you can always buy! The soul is lost – but the body survives!" guffawed the fourth one.

"Afraid of us, for we are here! We shall devour all that is near! We now don't care, we're gonna to die! Fear of us now and tremble, and cry!" the fifth howled with thunder peals.

"Hatred and rage... this ain't the cage! My lovely slave, I am your grave! Go down to me – bottom you'll see. Hatred and rage – excellent blade! Go to the abyss, join the raid!" the sixth tried to caress hearing.

"Here! To us! Look! In the glass! Stand by! Flame, pool! Where are you?! Fool!" all of them started crying at once, merging themselves into some indescribable chaotic discord.

"See, how they overstrain below? They are shouting like that to everyone, including the pedestrian ones. Especially the pedestrian ones, to be exact. Really hungry they are," my snow-white workmate by heaven smiled and showed a hand downwards, where somewhere away on the earth under us landscapes of crevices with tongues of flame, periodically erupting from them, were flowing.

"There can be pedestrian ones?" I questioned.

"Even creeping ones happen to be. As a rule, such ones are being very fast caught and... hrum-hrum... you know."

"Severely."

"Well..." the workmate sadly smiled. "What's the reason in creeping? Especially in times like that one..."

"By the way, how much time do we have in our possession?" I parried.

The workmate looked somewhere upwards for a pair of seconds, then turned to me and answered.

"The time of everyone is made so that it's always enough for his tasks, at due efforts. And concerning humankind in general – very little," he added after a while.

"And what to do with them?" I questioned him, showing a Chasm, spreading below.

"With these voices? Don't pay attention. They will cry for some time and become silent. The higher you will fly up – the lesser you will hear them."

"How far shall we travel from here on?" I interrogatively looked at my guide.

"Can you see t-h-a-a-a-a-a-t star in the heavens?" and the angel specified a small shining point, which has occurred on the horizon.

"Hardly ever noticed," I replied. "But a direction of movement looks clear enough."

"Well, nice and perfectly," and the angel smiled. "Then forward up to the sky – on all wings, as they say!"

"Forward!" answered I and smiled at him in return. "Together with you and the God!"

26.09.2012

## State of Earth

"Based on my authority as the new head of the Supreme Council of the Incorporated Countries I proclaim our countries one state. All ideological, political, economic, psychological and other unnamed types of  separation are eliminated, the newly formed state receives the status of free confederation, universal political cards are subject to revision – any territorial differentiation of a surface of a planet by the political sign is cleaned from them, all borders are eliminated, free and unobstructed possibility of moving on all territory of new formation is guaranteed  to the population of the former states, and newly formed community is named..."

"Hm. Let us leave these pompous speeches," and the man smiled. "After all, we are not going to amuse our vanity as politicians of the past, are we?" And he looked over the hall of people with a smile. "Let's name it... let's name it the way our planet is called, let's call it the uniform state of the Earth..."

28.05.2005

## Dao of Programming

"Without wind grass does not wave.

Without programs, the computer remains useless"

So said the Great Programmer

"To the East from the city, in a picturesque valley there is a large computer center with many supercomputers," the man said.

The boy noticed that he is wearing unusual, unprecedented by him before clothes, and there is a strange helmet on his head. He never met him before.

"Do you see?" the man continued. "You will travel there and tell the others of your findings."

"But how will I make my way into that center?" the boy questioned.

"It's up to you to decide," the stranger answered.

The boy reflected and bent his head. When he raised it once more – the speaking man was gone.

Next day the boy went there where the stranger has told him, however, no matter how long he has been wandering through a neighborhood of the city, he encountered neither the mentioned valley nor any other miracle. The following day he was in the countryside once again for he did not believe that such a surprising person could have lied to him. If sometimes they meet again, he will have the right to tell him that he has never seen a mentioned valley, but has heard mysterious unfamiliar sounds, brought from somewhere by a wind.

Many months passed since that, the stranger did not return, and the boy forgot him. Now he was totally sure that he must find that center and uncover its mystery. By the sounds, brought by the wind, he will manage to locate this place and get inside. He lost interest in school and those with who he was on friendly terms earlier. He became a favorite target for sneers and mocking of his contemporaries, who were saying, "He is not like us. He listens to wind for hours instead of playing with us". And everybody laughed at him.

Ten years later, having already become an adult, the boy returned to that city in which he has grown. He has abandoned the thought of finding what the mysterious man was telling him about many years ago. Yet still, he desired to leave a city, listen to the whistling of the wind. He rose up early in the morning and went in that very direction where the wanderer has pointed him once. What a surprise it was for him when, having traveled only about one kilometer away from a city, he has found magical valley, for which he has been searching so vainly before.

When he has descended into the valley, his eyes saw a most amazing show – hundreds and thousands of computers, buildings, wires with sparkling beams of light, sliding on them, connecting each other into something uniform indissoluble whole. There were no signs of men. The boy went forward, curiously looking around. He did not even notice how he managed to enter some sparkling disk, located near one of the highest buildings – and was suddenly teleported inside. What a surprise it was for the boy when that very man who had once told him of this place, appeared before his very eyes.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"I have been waiting for you," came the answer.

Even though a lot of time has passed already, the man looked exactly the same way as before, in the time of their first meeting. He gave the boy an empty writing-book.

"Write down: When the one who has decided to become a True Programmer, takes his first step, he learns the Way and the Dao of Programming."

"And who is that Programmer?"

"You know that already," the stranger answered, smiling. "The one who is capable to comprehend a miracle of life, to fight up to the end for things he believes in, and change this world."

The boy looked through pages of writing-book. The stranger smiled once more.

"Write of the Dao of Programming," he answered.

Dao of Programming

When a man who has decided to become a True Programmer, takes his first step, he learns the Way, lying before him.

True Programmers desire the usefulness of their programs for the world to never fade away. They live in this world, do not avoid others. It happens that they begin a new journey possessing no knowledge of necessary languages and tactics. Quite often they are being overwhelmed with fear. Not always do they code correctly. They suffer from trifling bugs in own creations, they happen to be restless and impatient, and at times it seems to them that they are unable to perfect themselves. Often they are convinced that they are unworthy of praises for what they have done already. Not always they are sure of what they are actually doing in there – in the boundless world of bits and bytes. They spend sleepless nights, suffering that their program may become unclaimed and useless.

Therefore, they are True Programmers. Because they make mistakes. Because they torment themselves with questions. Because they seek the cause for own mistakes – look for and will, undoubtedly, find once.

***

Each Programmer used to feel fear before a new, yet unwritten program. Each Programmer used to give birth to the unworthy code. Each Programmer used to walk the wrong way. Each Programmer used to torment himself because of utter nonsense. Each Programmer used to come to the conclusion that he is not a true Programmer. Each Programmer used to renounce his creative duty. Each Programmer used to say "yes" to a new customer, while in fact, he urged to say "no" instead. Each Programmer used to hate those programs that he has once loved.

That is why he bears the right to be called as the Programmer – for he has passed through all this and still not lose his hope of becoming better than he once was.

***

The True Programmer honors I. Tzin's basic provision: "Persistence is fruitful". He knows well that obstinacy has nothing to do with persistence. For there are projects, work in each lasts longer, that it's truly necessary, and they exhaust powers and extinguish enthusiasm. And in such minutes the Programmer is thinking: "The prolonged project eventually destroys the heat of his workers". And then he stops working over programs, and grants himself a relief, returning once again into a world which others consider the only one existing. But never will he miss a moment of inspiration to go on with his creation.

***

With great care, the True Programmer studies what he is going to write. No matter how difficult and hard a path to his goal may be, there are always open ways to overcome a barrier. Programmer seeks roundabout ways, tries to fill both soul and spirit with firmness, and reason with calmness, without which it's never possible to successfully finish one's job adequately.

But there, already moving ahead by a path of program creation, Programmer starts understanding that there are difficulties and obstacles that were not taken into account at first. If he starts waiting until the coming of the Muse of Programmer and be afraid of making mistakes, then he will never move even a single bit. To make a first step boldness is required, for it's impossible to predict everything – especially at the design stage, especially at the coding stage.

***

The True Programmer knows that certain algorithms have a habit of repeating. Often does he face difficulties which he has already overcome, and appears to be in a situation which he has already solved with honor, and this confuses his spirit: it seems to him that if everything repeats itself then he is trampled down on one spot, having no forces to move forward.

"I have already written that sort of things," complains he to his heart.

"You did," his heart answers him. "But have not fully implemented own ideas."

And the Programmer then understands, that his destiny gives him another chance to learn something which he had not wished to understand from the first time.

***

The True Programmer is aware of own weaknesses. But he also knows his talents as well. Others complain: "We were not given an opportunity". Perhaps they are even right, but the Programmer will never let himself stop programming for this reason – instead, he will strain own powers and talents to the last limit.

He knows that programmers are not afraid of difficult programs, for they are sure of themselves. And then he tries to comprehend what he can count on. And he inspects his arms, which include three things – Knowledge, Inspiration, Faith. If all three are in possession, the Programmer continues his way without hesitation.

He knows, what he is capable of. He has no need to be praised before other members of a team for own knowledge and talents. However, at any minute, someone can come out to prove that he is better. And for the True Programmer, there are no such concepts as "better" or "worse", for in his eyes each Programmer is gifted enough talents to walk his own path.

But still, there are programmers dissatisfied with that thinking. They try to show him his ignorance and imperfection of things made by him, to cause a quarrel, to make everything to anger him. And in such minutes his heart speaks to him: "Reject an insult, it shall not strengthen your abilities. You will only waste your time in vain, trying to help them understand the Dao of Programming".

The True Programmer knows that not a single programmer can be considered as a fool, and life will once teach everyone – even though it will take much time. He gives to other Programmers the best knowledge and skills of his own and expects them to do the same. And in addition, he generously and willingly tries to show the whole world, what every programmer is capable of.

***

The True Programmer seems mad at times, yet this is only a pretense. He is not afraid to look like a mad one. Aloud and at the top of his voice, he talks to himself, sliding his look through senseless for uninitiated lines of text. Someone has convinced him that it's the best way of finding those places in the program which should be rewritten – and so he decided to check it in practice.

At first, it seems to him as an incredibly difficult task. He is assured that his code is perfect and he has nothing to change in it. And still, he insists and persists, and conducts conversations with own reason every day, and says with what he disagrees and write nonsenses. But one day he notices that his code looks different. And thus he understands that he has opened a way to learning of the Dao of Programming.

***

The True Programmer doesn't change his decisions. Before starting a new project, he indulges himself in continuous reflections – estimates the degree of own readiness, a measure of responsibility, own debt before a team. Trying to keep composure, he laboriously studies each step – as if everything depends on it. But when the decision is being accepted – the Programmer moves forward carelessly: he doesn't have doubts in the validity of the architectural choice made by him, and, even if circumstances appear to developed not the way he has predicted, the Programmer does not turn off from the selected road. And if his decision was right, he wins a victory in a fight – even if it becomes longer than he thought it would. And if the decision was erroneous, he will suffer a defeat and be compelled to make a new start – but this time fully armed with bitter expertise.

The True Programmer, having once started writing code, goes up to the end. He knows – the smallest and unknown to everyone program one day can be the one required by millions.

"Customers are ungrateful," complain some of his companions. The True Programmer will never be confused by such words. He continues to write programs for them, for that way he improves himself.

***

The True Programmer shares his world with programs he loves. And in those minutes when he is selflessly giving himself to creativity, the Enemy comes with tablets in hands.

On the first table, it's written: "First of all think of yourself. Your programs are your intellectual property. Try to sell them as expensively as possible". On the second he reads the following words: "Who are you truly to write great things? Don't you even see how small and insignificant is all those written by you?"

But the True Programmer, even though he agrees with words, written there, throws those tablets to the ground, and they are scattered in ashes. And he still inspires himself and his companions.

***

Sometimes the True Programmer sits with his companions in late evenings in common circle. They tell of successes they have reached on their path and gladly welcome newly approaching programmers, for each of them is proud of own life and participation in a great cause of transformation of this world.

The True Programmer is trustful. He trusts in miracles – and miracles do happen. He believes that human thought and reason are capable to transform the life – and life of people of this world gradually becomes different.

***

The True Programmer always achieves a balance between knowledge and desire. The Programmer who trusts only a sharpness of his mind too excessively will eventually underestimate a time, required for implementation of his tasks. It's worth to remember: sometimes the power of various circumstances is more effective than the most sophisticated finesse.

Long can his battle for the working code can be, and this fight exhausts his forces. And when the terms of work on a task come to an end, neither shine, mind, persuasiveness of arguments or what is called as "charm" cannot prevent the trouble. And that is why the True Programmer pays tribute to the brute force of time, resisting him.

There are two main strategic errors – to hasten, having acted earlier than the opportunity will come, and to delay, having missed it. And to avoid both the first and the second the True Programmer considers each and every program project as unique, and have small use for opinions of others, general formulas and ready recipes.

The True Programmer does not trifle time for he knows: what is to be written – will be written.

Time works for him, and he, knowing that, learns to bridle impatience and avoid rash decisions. His step is slow, yet firm. He feels that the time fate-deciding for the history of humankind is approaching, but before one will be able to change this world, he must first change himself.

***

The True Programmer knows how important is the intuition. At the height of work, in a fever of project, in a state of short time, when there is no time to reflect on what of many alternative decisions to choose, he acts instinctively.

"Madman," fans of thinking over each detail in advance say about him.

"Building castles in the air," speak skeptics.

"How he can choose something deprived of logic?" the third is perplexed.

But the True Programmer knows: the intuition is an alphabet by means of which it's possible to comprehend Dao and thus continues to listen to his inner voice.

***

At times the True Programmer remembers one of the legends, transferred from one generation to another by programmers:

Once upon a time, the teacher was passing by the student. The teacher noticed that the attention of the student is absorbed by a pocket computer game.

"Excuse me," he told, "may I look at it?"

The student was distracted from a game and gave it to the teacher.

"I see that there are three levels of the game: easy, average and hard," told the teacher, "yet each such device contains one more level of the game when it aspires neither to win nor to be defeated."

"I beg you, oh great teacher," the student asked, "how can I find that mysterious level?"

The teacher dropped the device on the ground and crushed it with feet. And suddenly the student became enlightened.

***

From time to time the True Programmer acts counter with standards of programming. He will have no hesitation before leaving a secret back way in own program, or including the "easter egg" inside its code, defending an algorithm seeming ridiculous at first...

The True Programmer can afford such things. He doesn't fear to cry, remembering former unsuccessful projects, or to rejoice on the threshold of upcoming new ones. Feeling that a right hour has come, he throws away his last programs, moving forward into a new desired creativity.

***

The True Programmer accepts a challenge made to him. He knows that the one who is going to test his program will not overlook even a single mistake made by him, and will not allow him to pretend as if the written code is unfamiliar to him. The True Programmer knows that the best instructors are those men with whom he writes code in one team each and every day.

***

The True Programmer knows such a thing as despondency. Sometimes it seems to him that he is unable to solve problems put before him, that a program he is working on will never be finished. For many days and nights, he is compelled to stay in depression and no new event can return him former enthusiasm.

Understanding that his ability of programming is about to be exhausted, he leaves computer place and doesn't blame himself of having spent, coding, all night long.

"His work is ended," friends speak. Painfully and shameful it's for the Programmer to hear such words, for he knows that have not yet achieved a goal to which he has been moving. However, he is persistent and does not throw away half-road what he has once started. And here in a minute when he least expects it the inspiration comes to him and the previously impracticable task seems surprisingly simple. And then work once again overwhelms him, and fingers do knock on a keyboard quickly and accurately, and reason finds solutions instantly.

***

The True Programmer always remembers the words, spoken by the Great Programmer: "A well-written program is own paradise, badly written program is own hell".

The True Programmer always aspires to perfection. After every line of his code – there are years of wisdom and reflections. Each program, each algorithm must combine all power and quickness of programmers of the past. Each movement of his thought and hands honors those movements which previous generations tried to transfer to the modern ones through tradition.

***

Programs that were written before demand updating. New ideas demand new boundaries. Spirit and reason thirst for new calls. The future will become the present, and dreams – excepting those which contain prejudices – will have an opportunity to become a reality. What is important shall remain, what is useless will vanish.

The True Programmer, however, doesn't take the trouble to reflect on programs of his neighbor and to estimate their value. And he will not spend time on censure of decisions, made by others. For in order to believe in the fidelity of own path, there is no need to prove that another has chosen a wrong way.

***

From time to time the True Programmer remembers the words of the Great Programmer: "After three days without programming life becomes senseless".

The need to create programs is inherent in his very nature like the need to eat and drink, like the need to love work. If the sun goes down, and the Programmer has not yet experienced the joy from what he has created for the day – then something is wrong.

Each language and technology welcomes him. He feels his consanguinity with them, he feels that part of his soul is concluded with senseless for other streams of numbers, lines of text and that thing called "computer hardware" by his contemporaries. And then he, accepting aid from other programmers and God's Signs, he allows his path to lead him there, where myriads or programs, demanded by life, have been waiting for him.

Sometimes it happens that he has no time to take a sleep, at times he is tormented by sleeplessness. "Not to worry," the True Programmer thinks, "it's all part of my profession. No one has forced me to walk that way. It's I who have decided as such". All his power is gathered in these short words: he has chosen his path and has nothing to complain about, no one to blame.

The time will come – in so many centuries – when the Universe will come to the rescue for the True Programmers and remain deaf and indifferent to those who have still not understood the beauty of Creativity.

***

The True Programmer improves the beauty of his code.

The True Programmer transforms his mind.

The True Programmer learns to build the great.

The True Programmer will never curtail from his path.

True Programmers shall transform this world.

***

When his voice ceased, there was already night. The Great Programmer and the boy for long have beheld the look from a computer center, opening to their eyes. The Great Programmer stood up.

"Farewell," he said. "Now you have learned what our way means – it's inseparably merged with a magical and attracting world of machines, numbers, and technologies. But this is as well a world with the noise of the wind, shouts of seagulls, the rustle of spring foliage – for that is a world in a world so much bigger. You will be able to fall in love with our world."

"Tell me, who are you?" the boy asked. But the holographic image of the Great Programmer has been already vanishing, accompanied by a measured rustle and quite buzz of machines.

26.09.2012

## Illusions of crowds

You like judging so greatly that it seems as if you know everything in the world around. You are so afraid of admitting own ignorance to anybody! Probably, you already possess answers to all questions of life or have you simply ceased searching for them. Oh, yes – someone else has answered for you! And thus you allowed them to decide your own destiny.

Certainly, you can console yourselves that you are neither the first nor the last ones, that there are many ones, similar to you in our distressful world. That all people at least once in a while deceive, dissemble, steal, talk scandal, envy, sneer... But if someone chooses to go and act together with the majority – whether he doesn't become its integral part, sharing a common responsibility for the choice of crowds? But it's so comfortable for many to feel themselves like a small screw, a pawn in a big crowd!

How many leaders of crowds has this world seen? All of them sank into oblivion. Yet the stream of new solvers-for-you, apparently, isn't going to run low at all. It will never extinguish until you learn to decide for yourselves, listening to a low whisper of own souls. But are people even capable to listen? You followed your leaders, destroying everything in your wake and trying to build something new on newly created ruins. You were ready to crucify others for the illusion of belief. For the sake of the next new idea, seeming so attractive to you, you destroyed thousands and thousands of innocent lives of your neighbors. Was worthwhile in your own opinions? Was it required to express internal contents of souls to understand all absurd of attempts of changing of others without changing yourselves first and foremost?

You listen to each and everybody, yourself being excluded. And even when you listen to "yourselves" – you keep hearing only an echo of decisions, imposed to you by others, but these decisions seem to you as ones coming from your own clarity of spirit... If only it was that way! For this particular reason, you continue sleeping with your eyes open widely and behold dreams filled with a dope of your endless desires of this, that, and, most certainly, that-thing-as-well. After all, your life will become so defective without all these infinite things, seizing your consciousness! And that way you gain at least a new subject for yet another conversation with your colleagues by a dream.

Until we dive in ourselves so deeply as it's even possible, having learned own spiritual nature, we won't be able to truly wake up. We will instead continue to operate and move like dummies for puppet leaders. We will keep thinking like them as if by a template, believing only in what they trust, dreaming of what it's allowed to dream. But where will such "dreams" once lead us?

You will never awaken until you are a part of a crowd. The crowd isn't capable to realize own illusions. One can fly up over the crowd, but will never creep under its feet. It's useless to ask crowds to behave reasonably. It's impractical to count on collective conscious of crowds. Crowds dissipate naturally when each and every person in them gain his own identity. Crowds of unsleeping ones do not exist at all.

The task of own awakening lies on everyone. No one else is capable to pass your own path – for that reason, it cannot be passed while you are still a part of the crowd. And you better not postpone these tasks for later. There is much less time remaining, that many of you would prefer to think.

05.09.2012

## How fantasy heroes will battle with the Ancient Red Dragon

1. Warrior

There is nothing easier for him than to defeat some unfledged flying lizard. Before entering the den of a dragon he triply loudly tries to challenge him on a "fair fight" and then, having received only silence in reply, barges into the lair himself. Feeling absolutely no confusion from a view of a heap of bones and skulls, scattered through the lair (he had to see much more intriguing things in battles, after all), finds a lurked dragon. Performs a short war-call speech, like "Into the battle!" to encourage himself, and straight off rushes into a fight.  When the dragon tries to breathe a fire on him, instinctively defends with a shield. After that the dragon needs only to have a supper from the next titbit of a roasted meat, spitting out indigestible iron trinkets in a process.

2. Thief

Waits for a whole year to choose the longest and darkest night possible. This night creeps to a den exactly at midnight. Thoroughly searches for a secret door. Having found none, opens front entrance with a lockpick, and makes a way in a den on tiptoe, trying not to make much noise (who knows, maybe dragon suddenly does not sleep yet?). Searches heaps of bones and skulls in a search of valuables. Finds a sleeping dragon. Accurately walk around, setting the traps he has brought with himself. Hides in a shade behind a stone and throws a poisoned dagger from his cover. When a dragon, having awakened from something light, which has struck him and slid off his scales, half-asleep breathes a fire, illuminating at least half of his den, the thief tries to hide in a shade of the flashed fire. After that the dragon needs only to have a supper from the next titbit of a roasted meat, spitting out all those jewelry in a process, previously concealed by a dragon and then pocketed by a thief, which now have been returned to their lawful legal owner once again.

3. Priest

Before going to a campaign against a dragon, thoroughly prays to his gods for them to strengthen his belief and grant him their divine aid in a battle with a winged demon.  Going to a campaign, he stocks up with several liters of holy water. Having at last reached journey's point of destination, he approaches a den and blesses himself. Being inspired by the made successes, he fearlessly enters the lair. Tries to revive the souls of living beings, sent into nonexistence by the winged demon previously, by casting "Raise Read" spell and splashing holy water on them. When a dragon, having noticed this obscenity, flies close to a priest, the priest blesses himself once again with a sacred sign, shouting: "I banish you, evil one!". He has the time to cast "Bless", "Divine Favor", "Prayer", "Holy Word" and "Fire Resistance" before the dragon spits a stream of fire on him. Breathed fire heats up an armor of the priest to 50 °C and then in his last efforts the servant of gods tries to extinguish the fire around him with last remnants of holy water.  After that, the dragon needs only to breath a fire stream once more to have a supper from the next tidbit of a roasted meat, having satisfied his thirst with several liters of holy water, yet not splashed by a faithless priest.

4. Paladin

He has been born to struggle against such evils that destroy settlements of innocent peasants and eat their virgin girls. Having not the slightest sign of hesitation and fear, wasting no unnecessary words (except for something like "For the sake of justice!") goes on a campaign against the dragon. After many days of traveling and having reached a lair, enters it fearlessly. Having not the slightest sign of hesitation and fear bravely walks over the heaps of bones and skulls through a den. Seeing a dragon shouts – "Godless creature! Today's yours Doomsday!" – and heads into the battle, swinging his sparkling sword "Holy Avenger +5". Has not the slightest sign of hesitation and fear when an exhaled stream of fire comes near him. After that his armor, heated up to 120 °C, surpasses in the degree of brilliance even his sacred sword. After that the dragon needs only to have a supper from the next tidbit of a roasted meat, having carefully spat out (and have added to the already impressive list of his treasures) "Holy Avenger +5" sword.

5. Mage

Before going on a campaign, for several years sits at the reading of ancient books and manuscripts, concerning the history of the draconic race, their arrival into this world, their classification, character traits, and basic habits and, finally, their weak spots. Having being armed with all that knowledge along with an ancient magic staff and several tens of spell scrolls, at last, starts his voyage. Having passed some kilometers and have been tired of walking on foot, casts "Fly" and then overcomes all remained distance to a lair in several pitiful minutes. Having noticed a den casts "Detect Magic" on it. Becomes alerted when the spell displays the hugest fluctuations of magic force in a den. Carefully surveys den's vicinities, trying to digest unrecorded magical fluctuations. Before entering a lair casts on himself all that magic stuff like "Haste", "Minor Globe Of Invulnerability", "Major Globe Of Invulnerability", "Greater Globe Of Invulnerability", "Lesser Magic Reflection", "Greater Magic Reflection", "Protection From Elements", "Protection From Evil", "Protection From Alignment", "Stoneskin", "Greater Stoneskin", "Spell Immunity", "Total Immunity", and only then accurately enters it.

Takes a breath when he determines that the source of detected earlier magical fluctuations are, in fact, artifacts, scattered together with heaps of bones and skulls. Overcomes the desire to be engaged in their immediate studying, having decided to postpone this sort of business for later attention. Trying not to lose too much time, moves through a den and notices a lying dragon at last. When the dragon flies up to him, intending to engulf him in flames, mage casts "Time Stop" and then beholds the dragon, frozen in the air, unable to look away from its strong as a steel red scales, and trying to remember, for what powerful magic component this scaly ingredient was required. Having regained one's senses casts a "Fireball" on a hovering dragon.

Having noticed, that it has not affected the dragon as it was supposed to do, finally remembers the descriptions, read earlier in manuscripts, of representatives of his kind and (in particular) their total and complete invulnerability to fire. Still have some time to cast "Chain Lightning", which, along with hitting the dragon, as a side effect destroys practically all artifacts, stocked up by the dragon, after that the dragon come away from a period of time-nonexistence, and spits out a fire stream on a dire magician. The mage observes with surprise his magical staff, which has become an analog of a torch in Christmas night, and only then on the edges of his consciousness realizes, that all effects of his magic protections have had just enough time to already vanish. After that the dragon needs only to have a supper from the next tidbit of a roasted meat, having replenished his magical supplies from a heap of rings, necklaces and other jewelry, spat out from the chewed magician.

6. Barbarian

Having learned that somewhere in his vicinities lives some ancient, and, moreover, red dragon, screams with a loud war-call and runs in the direction, where (presumably) the dragon should dwell. Having been running for several days, at the long last comes by some sort of miracle across a dragon's den. Emits a war cry once again, calling a dragon on a fight. When a dragon, woken up by this inhuman roar, claws out of his cave, the barbarian enters a berserker mode and tries to chop a dragon into pieces. After that, the dragon needs only to observe a fairly fire-bathed and still violently twitching muscular body of a former dragon's bane.

7. Ranger

Becomes very disappointed, having learned that the ancient red dragon does not dwell in woods. Then, having loaded himself with several quivers of arrows starts the voyage. Carefully investigates all traces, found on the road, trying to identify, which of them can possibly belong to a dragon. After many days of traveling finally reaches a den. Compares traces around a den with earlier taken samples to become convinced that it's the valid den of a valid dragon. Before entering a lair, summons Black Bear from the nearest forest. Creeps into the lair together with a bear. Observes with astonishment, how this very hungry bear eats remains of unlucky adventurers, slaughtered by a dragon. Having noticed a dragon from afar, fires several tens of arrows, which lay down accurately on a circle around the paws of a sleeping dragon, thus calling him for a fight. When the dragon wakes up and flies up to him, sets on his summoned bear. With the edge of his eye observes, how a bear, already stuffed up with food, instead of eating a dragon sits down near him and starts licking own paws. With the edge of another eye observes, how all quivers of arrows on his back flash in a fire. Has some time left to feel a heat, coming somewhere from all directions, and to see dragon claws just before his face. After that, the dragon needs only to feel the charm of the torn and roasted meat of not only the hero himself but his not less unlucky forest companion.

8. Bard

Before going to a campaign, composes a ballad "Of The Great And Mighty Red Dragon, Covering The Half Of Firmament On A Flight". Becomes greatly inspired when a half of the local small town comes to attend this concert.

Then composes a ballad "Of The Fearless Hero Who Went On A Campaign Against The Bane Of The Heavens". After having received a thousand question of who is this fearless hero, decides that time for a campaign has probably finally come. Moves into adventuring, composing new and new ballads on the way "Of The Battle With Red Wyrm", "Of The Red Plague Of Heavens" and on, and on, thereby constantly gathering around him crowds of local gapers. When he reaches dragon's den, at last, discovers that all that public has been blown off like by the fire. Enters a lair, singing a ballad "Of The Young Bard, Fearlessly Stepping Into A Lair Of The Ancient Beast". Having entered the lair and come across remains of your adventurers composes on the fly a tearful song "Of The Heroes, Who Disgracefully Died In The Dark Cave", trying to encourage himself. When a dragon, awakened by some hoarse singing voice, flies up to him, tries to compose a lullaby ballade "Of How The Dragon Went Into Eternal Rest". The dragon, however, completely unimpressed with such melodies, exhales a burst of flame, and after that event, all the remaining crowd has to compose in joint efforts a new (in last in this season) ballade "Of How The Hero Over Here Was Lost In The Den Over There".

9. Monk

Before going into a campaign, diligently meditates for some days, trying to dive into Nirvana. Having left this blissful state finds out that that time for the campaign has already come a long time ago – and then finally moves on. Having passed several kilometers and having been tired of such slow way of movement starts running and thus surpasses all remaining distance in mere several hours. Having run to a den sits down in a pose of lotus and plunges himself into meditation once again. Having left this blissful state after several days finds out that he's just in the time borders of his journey. Runs into a lair. On the fly diligently maneuvers across heaps of bones and skulls, trying not to bash any of them. Having not noticed a dragon on the move, bashes into him – and then sits down near its paws and plunges himself into deepest meditation. The woken up dragon breathes a stream of fire, which does not cause the hero any harm, for he has already made his body absolutely immune to pain. By that time the monk, who has left meditation, notices that the dragon has already woken up, and enters a fistfight with him. After that, the dragon needs only to regale on a body and – separately – head of the hero, which have now been made totally and absolutely immune to any sorts of pain.

02.01.2006

## How fantasy heroes will install Windows

1. Warrior

Pushes an installation disk into the drive with the help of steel gauntlet. Moves nearby, while the installation process is being performed, practicing swords swinging and shaking, and sometimes bashing his shield for greater frightening effect. When the installation is finally completed and during the first boot Windows hangs up, he smashes thrice-damned device into an incalculable number of small slices in his mighty rage.

2. Thief

Acquires a pirated copy of the latest beta version of Windows for mere two silver coins, silently opens a drive with a lockpick, puts a disk there and then even more silently closes the drive and launches the installation process. When the message popups: "A new device has been detected: Windows installation disk", shouts "Hell, we've been spotted!" and runs away with such a speed that only his heels sparkle.

3. Priest

Before begging the installation process, blesses Windows media disk and splashes holy water on it, and only after those important procedures inserts it into a drive. When the drive cannot read the seriously watered disk and message popups – "Unable to read from the device. Abort? Retry? Ignore?" – he overshadows himself in horror, shouting "I banish thee, unholy one!" and starts moving around the computer, singing holy prayers. After two hours of traveling, during which the disk has just enough time to completely dry up, tries to repeat the process once again. After the installation process completes successfully, kneels and performs yet another three-hour praise to the gods that they have heard his modest prayers and have aided him in his struggle against the evil.

4. Paladin

Takes Windows installation disk and lay on hands on it. Waits for several minutes and then inserts a disk in a drive. As soon as installation starts put his ankh on a chassis for greater effect. When the installation process finishes and during the first boot Windows hangs up, proclaims: "Disbeliever! Feel the wrath of Gods!" and smashes accursed device into a lot of tiny pieces.

5. Mage

Carefully takes Windows installation disk and casts "Identify" spell on it. After the spell determines the version of Windows on a disk, casts a "Detect Magic" spell on it. When his spell detects nothing unusual, breathes with a sign of relief and cast a "Detect Alignment" spell on it. Becomes wary after the spell detects alignment as "chaotic neutral". Casts a "Purify" spell on disk and only then finally launches the installation process. Having fun with own familiar during the installation process.

After the installation completes, repeatedly casts "Detect Alignment" spell on a computer. Becomes alerted even more, when a spell determines alignment as "chaotic evil". Casts "Time Stop", trying to decipher, what magical streams have created such astounding alteration of disk's alignment. Reboots the computer. When during the first boot Windows hangs up, becomes extremely angered, casting on himself "Haste", "Greater Globe Of Invulnerability", "Greater Reflect Magic", "Stoneskin", "Ironskin", "Total Immunity" and then at last casts "Fireball" on ill-fated device, enjoying a smell of burned rubber and wires.

6. Barbarian

Takes installation disk, plays with it, trying to understand, by what side it should be inserted into a drive. Puts a disk into a drive by the first found side. After that emits a heart-breaking war cry in order to start the installation process. When Windows disk shutters into pieces from such vibrations, becomes extremely enraged and, having entered a berserker condition, smashes accursed device and what is remained from a disk as well into a thousand and one pieces.

7. Ranger

Shoots an arrow and opens a drive, having hit "Eject" button. Puts installation Windows disk on a second arrow and fires it in a drive. When a disk falls from an arrow just in time just into a drive, starts installation process. While installation process goes on, summons black bear and discusses with him the delights of the wood hunting, which have allowed him to find an aforementioned disk in a belly of some unlucky wood troll together with even less lucky thief – the initial owner of the disk, – swallowed by the troll. When the installation processes comes to its end and during the first boot Windows hangs up, sets his bear on a chassis, while making a pillow for needles from a monitor himself.

8. Bard

Before inserting a disk in a drive, takes it out for everyone to behold and starts singing a ballad of far kingdoms and treasures of goddess-destiny, who have helped him to once find such a wonderful and admirable artifact. When somewhat about twenty gawks and gapers gather around him, sings not less heart-touching ballade of the terrifying black dragon, nicknamed Microsoft, whom he along with his comrades-in-arms have finally defeated in a bloody and just battle, and in whose lair such artifact has been found. When somewhat about fifty gawks and gapers gather around him, at last dares to insert this disk in a drive. When message popups – "Unregistered Windows copy" – makes a sad gesture and sings even more heart-touching ballade of a deceit, lie and insidiousness, reigning in the lands of Faerun.

9. Monk

Puts installation disk on the unremarkable stone shrine, and makes a holy circular detour. After that sits down in a pose of a lotus and begins his meditation. After ten-hour meditation comes to his senses, softly puts a disk in a drive and launches installation process. Dives into meditation again, while the installation process goes on.

After fifteen-hour meditation comes to his senses and sees, that the system cannot continue the installation process because of a necessity to press "any key" for process's continuation. Presses this particular "any key" and once again plunges himself into meditation. After three-hour meditation returns to this world once again, and sees, that system has hung up. Having overcome an internal impulse of anger of his essence, starts installation anew, and sits down to meditate. After fifteen-hours meditation sees, that the system asks him to press "any key" once again. Again presses the very same "any key" and plunges himself into meditation. After three-hour meditation comes back to this world once more only to observe that the system has hung yet again. Repeatedly having overcome an internal impulse of anger of his essence, starts all process – including, most certainly, meditation – anew. After twentyfold repetition of a situation as last enrages and demonstrates finesse of kickboxing to a computer. Becomes satisfied only when there is not even a smallest object, which have a dent from his fists, left, and then sits down to meditate once again, as always.

02.01.2006

## How fantasy heroes will brawl in a tavern

1. Warrior

Constantly holds an impressive bastard sword in his hands before the eyes of his listeners, sometimes swinging it clockwise in hands for the sake of impression. When some listener tries to object him, moves his sword closer to that impudent one and put it on his shoulder, unambiguously looking in his eyes. After that, the objecting one immediately loses all desires to object.

2. Thief

While everyone argues with each other, has enough time to empty pockets of ten gapers, to steal a pair of mugs of ale from the local barman and to expropriate a necklace from a neck of his daughter, and then hides in shadows and waits until everyone becomes bothered enough to be still engaged in this phrase-mongering. After dispute comes to an end and loss is being detected and the alarm starts to reign in the tavern, thief has enough time to cut even more purses of the traders, who have so inopportunely appeared here, and even to relief pockets of one of guards, who has come to pacify commoners, from his recent pay. After that, he safely slips away from a tavern into the darkness of night and disappears in it without the court.

3. Priest

When he is displeased with something or huffs seriously, he calls the debater as "daemon" and casts "Exorcism" on him. The spell, as a rule of the thumb, does not make any actual effect, but, nevertheless, is accompanied by such grandiose illuminations, that inspired public immediately falls on knees altogether and start singing prayers to the priest, and the priest, well, starts singing them to his deity.

4. Paladin

Having noticed a crowd of drunk gapers in a tavern, organizes a discussion along with brainwashing, concerning just and pure life. Then preaches a sermon to the local barman, his daughter and even the tavern itself. After all local tavern brotherhood, not really impressed with such talks, approaches him in a crowd, he removes his sparkling sword "Holy Avenger +5" from sheath, and after that all commoners get stricken with temporary blindness (basically because of the sight of jewels that engrave the weapon) and immediately become paladin's best friends. Being proud of such transformation of dark human soul and bearing his head high, he leaves a tavern to amaze new evils in any form possible.

5. Mage

After some local mortal idler dares to name him as "maggie puppy" and another local mortal fool doubts his great magic abilities, casts Demon Gate and summons a Balor King from the Abyss. After Balor devours all tavern of local mortal brotherhood and is banished back to the Underworld, the devastated tavern appears to be totally in no condition to dispute with local conjurer.

6. Barbarian

The time someone starts to argue in style "to be or not to be, to drink or not to drink", from a misunderstanding of these foolish high substances he becomes enraged, and, having entered a berserker condition, emits such roar that all local inhabitants immediately become deaf. After that, they have only to silently observe, how mad barbarian crashes into pieces all local tavern furniture, like in a mute cinema.

7. Ranger

Bashes into a tavern along with his Ancient Brown Bear and then, having set up on a table, orders drink (for himself) and meal (for his forest friend). While everyone amazingly whispers with each other and cautiously look at the bear, who has taken a sit near a table as well, devastates ordered glass of drink and inquires, where is it possible to hunt nearby.  Calms down the rest of local rascals, who have not fallen unconscious already, having specified, that he hunts exclusively in woods. Having learned approximate coordinates and interrupted further specifications with words "I'll find it myself!", leaves a tavern. Notices, that the bear has grown too fat from the recent meal, and thus cannot pass through doors, – and then takes out an arrow from a quiver and ends his tortures. Then summons a new bear (this time from the outer side of a tavern) – and finally goes on wood hunting.

8. Bard

Becomes the best story-teller in all local districts, so all tavern patrons from ten more nearby villages come to listen to him. Indefatigably composes new and new ballads and songs until he dies from old age. After that yet another bard comes on his funeral and starts to compose new ballads and songs about this singer, who has decided to rest in peace so untimely.

9. Monk

Silently enters a tavern, silently sits down on a floor and silently dives into nirvana. After that all attempts of local gapers to help him come to his senses end up with no result visible, and so they finally decide to leave him alone. Having returned back into this world several days after, he finds out that some dancing is being performed around him, and then leaves this world once again. Having returned to it some months after, finds out that instead of local tavern only its burns ashes are around him and he sits almost on open air. Makes a mind note to himself, that this is a very quiet place and it would be necessary to return to it afterwards, and decides to return back to his monastery for now.

03.01.2006

## When the sun will rise

Heavy-heavy eyelids. Slowly opening eyes. A cloudy sight. A haggard sick face. A man, lying on a bed. Dimmed light. Curtained by something dark windows. The setting sun. A fluttering crimson haze before the eyes. The body is not felt at all, some rubbish is still spinning in the head. Unclear semi whistle-semi rustle poured in a premise.

An effort – and he hardly managed to open his eyes. A face in a white surgical coat, bent over him, a calm sight. The face attentively studies him, looks in his eyes – as if looking in the soul – and gradually departs.

There are no more powers to keep looking... he has closed his eyes again. It's now possible to listen to ... only to try to understand, remember and realize yourself.  He must do it... He did not remember even why, actually, he has to, but only one thing – must.

A quiet-quiet conversation very-very nearby – that man in a white coat was engaged into unhurried dialog with someone another. He spoke very faintly – didn't want to be overheard.

He must hear it, obliged to! Must understand, where is he and what's with him. He has strain oneself greatly, trying to decipher habitual human words in flying sounds...

"...To do."

"...But we cannot allow it. After all... living. He... a human."

"...A choice?"

"...Always is!"

"He has... symptoms... Virtual ski... is... syndrome... he is not long for this world... a day or two at most."

"...But they are. We cannot... allow... to die."

"...State-of-the-art capabilities... do not allow... irreversible change... cells... of a brain... Horrific weapon... monster... virtual reality... physical influence of virtual world... Electrochemical stimulation... cells... altered... brain impulses... mental waves... almost like alive... no way!"

"Really... he... no hope?"

"You... his medical record."

"...Have brought yesterday. And just the next day... should die?"

"...So, unfortunately... no means."

"My God! ...dies... ble... death... cannot aid!"

"...Regret it very much."

"..."

"Go, make arrangements...  to make asleep... last... long dream... Capsule... life-support... two hundred years."

"...I shall do."

"...Go."

A noise of the door softly closed by automatics after the left person. The same man in a white surgical coat has approached him once again.

Smoothly bend head, a penetrating glance, confusion and pain on a face – pain and hope. His words addressed to him...

"...Please forgive. Have to... to make... for you to survive... have to survive... no other way possible... not now. Impossible... Until mankind realizes, what it creates... until denies... virtual substitutes of life... Festering abscess... on mankind's body... must get rid themselves... choose life themselves... real... living... life... until... no... most advanced medicine... will never be a cure... Understand... cure... in the strength of spirit... to make... right choice... again... forgive us... cannot do another way... Put asleep... two hundred years... When the sun will rise... will revive... when... real life... not... pitiful glitches in a brain... only then.

A whistle and noise again. Opened doors, entering people – lots of people in white surgical coats. Life... life... real life... he has just now started to feel its taste... in that condition in which he was... only now... before this... A headache – the wild pain which has cut through a brain – and darkness before his eyes... No! Hands, shaking him... he must regain consciousness, he is alive! They have understood it... they will fulfill their duties.

The longest dream. Several centuries... He will regain consciousness when the night will come to an end and the sun will rise... rise over mankind. Maybe he will once see this world again.

Bend faces... grief on them. The approaching mechanics... And words, words, which rushed into his ears like a wild roar of sea waves – "Meet this time... be happy... in real life... Farewell!"

Pain. And the oblivion...

04.01.2005

## When whirlwind comes

Oh my God, that is so exciting! At the long last I have met a girl, whom I have fallen in love with. I already started to believe more and more, that this is totally impossible, that I will never find a person, close to my spirit, in this world of yours. Tens of acquaintances – and nobody, no one, who had at least close to my world outlook. It seemed, that hope had almost left my heart and, as far as I could remember, I even began to convince myself that, probably, such way of things is absolutely inevitable and I, whether I desire it or not, should better accept it and to reconcile with it as with something so much stronger than me.

Amazing, that's truly amazing – the spark of hope has practically died out... and during this very instant, when I have already almost ceased to trust in the possibility of a miracle, it has come true!

Lovely, nice, wonderful girl, surprisingly spiritually close to me. How did it happen that we have found each other at last? Just a few minutes back or forward – and we, knowing nothing about what we are creating, would, possibly, pass by, having never looked on each other. And we would never meet again that way... we would never meet for certain. And then I would definitely finally lose last bits of hope.

Oh, how much do I thank you, God, for hearing my prayers!

Today we were passing through a park, and a rain started pouring all of a sudden. We both have no umbrellas on hands so had to urgently search for some tree of impressive size to have a chance for a cover under its mighty crone. This just-in-time rain made both of us even more intimate.

While we have been waiting for it to finish, laughing at how funny we managed to wet through in the rain during our joint travels, we had the time to talk a lot. I truly wasn't mistaken – this girl had views very similar to mine or, to be more precise, she has been living by them. I had no idea how to describe that sensation which has grown in me during those fifteen-twenty minutes of our conversation. Have you ever felt sometimes that you have met your second half? That you, formally knowing each other for the shortest time span, have felt each other for a whole eternity? That a man, now standing close to you, understands you from a half-word, for so similar are your thoughts and so close are consciousnesses? If you felt this even a single time in your life, you would understand those sensations and feelings of which I speak.

And then the rain has come to an end – just as suddenly as it has begun – and we have continued our way, entering crowded city streets. We have been crossing them time and again, periodically turning back and forth – up the hill and down dale, for we had something so much more appealing – we enjoyed a company of each other.

Then I, protesting in spirit against rules of actions, imposed on me by a society, but wishing to make her a pleasant thing, invited her to a cinema – and she refused. She told that it would be much better to return to that park which has made our day, instead of sitting in a stuffy hall, watching silly comedies or bloody action movies. The girl refused a cinema. According to all that stereotypes, carefully constructed in the consciousness of men, that was... strange, to say the least. Yet it seemed to me as if I understood her deeply during those instants of time.

And then we indeed returned to that rainy park, by that time already dried up by the rising sun. We were sitting together with her on a park bench and chatting. Those were wonderful moments of time, and I still cannot forget them.

I have no will to forget three months of our dating. I cannot forget her shining smile, as well as her during these moments – full of joy and happiness. Never will I forget our first kiss. I won't cease remembering all our instants of time together with each other. For even now I dare not forget my true love. Even... now.

***

I met the second girl purely by accident. This happened just in time when I have been dating with my Tatyana. We were wandering through a park that day – were crossing a street when she came out of nowhere.

When we have almost overtaken over each other, both Tatyana and the girl, going towards us, have smiled and approached each other with a greeting. It appeared that the girl we have was Larissa, Tanya's colleague on work.

They started chatting. I patiently awaited. Approximately ten minutes after they said goodbye to each other, and Larissa went own way. Passing us by, she glanced at me and said aloud – "And your guy is beautiful indeed..." – and Tanya answered that she's a truly happy girl for now.

This day we didn't encounter Larissa any more. And two weeks after I received I call from her on my office phone number.

***

Still wondering, how did she manage to get my office number. But apparently, for ones such as she, there are no things that cannot be broken in her wake to a selfish goal.

Then her constant one-after-another calls started along with meetings offers. Threats were used after my tenth refusal. I don't give a shit on her threats, I love – loved? – only Tanya.

I love just Tanya, only her! Oh my God, I have no desire to cause her harm, for I do love her! When will those torments finally end?! Her! Her... only her...

Her threats were various. The last one was to "take me by force", as she used to say. I wished her in, probably, the twentieth time to find another man who will fall in love with her and told her that there cannot be anything between me and her. Then she answered that if I am incapable to fall in love with her by the will of my own heart, then I shall do so by her own desire – and hung up.

That was the beginning of that nightmare in which I have been living till now. A month after Larissa's last call I and Tatyana have sworn. We have sworn!

Never, never, never before anything similar between us was ever imaginable – that was simply inadmissible. But the fact remains – a month later after mentioned events we have sworn. The reason was of purely of household nature, I still cannot understand how have I allowed myself such a tone? For I do love her!

That was the beginning of our constant quarrels. I have no idea what overcame me those moments – I ceased to be true self. Wild, spiteful, aggressive... and always – every time I came home from work, – I found what to punish her for!

And first she tried to go on compromises, but after numerous repeats of my attacks, she only started to cry further. Something pushed me even greater in these moments – I saw how she was crying, how she's grieved... no, how she's weak! – and thirsted to hit her even seriously! More painfully, more rigidly! So that she remember it well for the rest of her life! To let her know how's that – to contradict me!

Silly bitch! Stupid girl! Idiotic woman! How was that ever possible for me to fall in love with her?! Vainglorious nasty creature! Beast!

Oh my God, what's the bullshit I am writing now? How do I dare think that way about my... beloved girl?! Beloved...

My beloved, dear... I know that you hear me even now when we have become so distant from each other... forgive me for these lines... I had no desire... I don't know what's going on with me... feeling so hard... as if something presses on me, trying to flatten – time and again, methodically and persevering... I ceased to comprehend whether it's I supervise myself, or someone unfamiliar to me controls me at present...

Ta... ta... nya... forgive, forgive me... if... you still can.

***

Our quarrels became the begging of the end of our relations and mine – ours? – dream. At first, I beat her with words – and then started beating with fists. And that was the last drop in a bowl of her patience. She sued for divorce – and we parted our ways.

We left each other – nay! – I have thrown away that silly woman! Yes! She made the right choice to clean wherever one's wishes! Oh my, such a mollycoddle! Gorgeous bitch!

There are women so much better than her! Indeed! Much... better.

***

Today I am going to meet my beloved Larissa once more. How much do I miss her... No more nasty Tatyana – I desire only Larissa! I thirst for her... the desire to be with her.

Yes, yes, yes! We shall be happy together – for we do love one another!

***

I... I... I know not... Sometimes... from time to time it seems to me, that I have no love for my Larissa... That... that it's sort of a nightmare, that... that our love never existed... Oh, how dare I doubt that? I banish thee, nasty thoughts! Certainly, I do love her!

***

Today it was sweet... so... sweet. We loved each other... we were the one. I feel her body shyly shudders... I saw her closing the eyes in pleasure... and I blew up. We kissed and kissed each other endlessly – and couldn't help doing another... Merged into a single whole. Oh, how truly sweet that was.

So who dared to say that I and Larissa do not complement each other? We were born to be a single thing!

***

Today Tanya came to me in my sleep. Tanya... my beloved Tanya...

Damnation! That devilish sentimentality comes again!

For a thousand times already I have come to the conclusion that my meeting with Tanya was but a monstrous mistake in my fate and I have no desire to rethink it over and over again. I love Larissa and only her.

Or... or maybe not?

***

No! For how long must I sustain it! How many torments are still awaiting me?! When will we stop to quarrel at last?! To finally talk heart-to-heart? Why... why does something constantly pulls me to her... why, why I cannot expel these feelings... this passion and inclination?!

I write of this now only to catch myself on a thought about her again... No way!!!

***

That's a pure nightmare, a horror, a delusion! I am being torn apart – I have no love for her, but still being invisibly pulled to her! What sort of a terrible inclination is that, when have it born?

We are totally opposite, different with her – and we do not fit each other! Why can't I help thinking about her, can't help visiting her each day after my work, cannot forget her?

Why can't I forget her as a horrific dream?!

***

Today we quarreled once more. She said that doesn't want to behold me any longer – and turned out. Muttered something about some grandma that cheated her, having closed the door, and swore.

And then I slept on a street. She finally accepted me back after a day, having cursed for decency. Strange... am I starting to like her insults?

No, I can't bear it any longer! It all ends today. Today – or never!

***

A headache is becoming stronger with each passing moment and this itching pain starts spreading gradually over the body. Just one thing pleases me – today all legal formalities will be settled, and at the long last we will cease to be a husband and a wife any longer.

But how am I going to live for now without her – my faithful Larissa?!

Have I truly gone mad – or does it just seems to me? Probably I am truly ill. Need to take a walk – fresh air will surely help me.

No, I definitely have no desire to live that way!

***

A lonely man, going along the street... his eyes are slightly closed and right-hand keeps for a head. He's being swayed here and there – from apart it almost seems that he's simply yet another drunk individual. But those passers-by, who accidentally looked into these semi-covered eyes, rejected all those improper thoughts of him as another debauchee – for these eyes had practically no pupils – pupils had decreased to abnormal sizes and such a mortal melancholy lapped in them, that involuntary lookers immediately backed off.

A read traffic light – and cars begin their movement.

However, some unsteady man almost sees them not – as if he's not able to see a red light, blocking the way... Now he has almost crossed half of the roadway...

"Watch out, red light!" a shout of pedestrians reaches him, and a man starts turning to face the speaker.

Brakes, pressed against the stop. A squeal of rubber on the ground... A man starts turning towards the approaching car – and his eye pupils starts widening...

A crash.

***

"So, what happened to your friend?"

"He died in a road accident... the car brought him down. Craniocerebral trauma and brain's hemorrhage. When he has been transported to a hospital, he was already dead."

"I deeply regret."

"I know. These words are unnecessary."

"What are your thoughts on the cause of his death?"

"I cannot judge for certain. Something strange was going on with him recently – and he became beside himself. Divorced from his wife Tatyana and married Larissa. To tell the truth, I couldn't understand his choice – they were totally different. From the time of his divorce with Tanya, he ceased to contact me anymore, despite our previous warm friendship. I still not fully understand what made him take those rash steps."

"And how are now Tatyana and Larissa fare, do you know?"

"Tatyana married another man and moved to a different city – I know nothing of her further destiny. And as for Larissa... Larissa died. She was killed."

The speaker sighted.

"Some maniac trapped her in a lane when she was coming back home. Raped at first, and then cut with a knife. A body was found in a cellar of one of the next building approximately a week after the events."

"It's all that terrible."

"Yes, very sad indeed."

"Still that doesn't explain the motives of his behavior several months prior to his death."

"Yes, it doesn't. However," and speaking man smiled, "I guess I have some clue."

And having that said he took out a small pile of papers from his portfolio.

"Here, take it. This is a diary he has been writing – or at least that part which I have managed to get my hands on when a levy of execution was being performed. I didn't look it through yet, but if you seem so interested in the question of his motives – here, take it and read, probably you'll be able to find an answer there."

"Yes, let me take a look at that thing."

And the man opened the pages...

12.01.2005

## When the Sleeper awakes

"Mister Coordinator, when the Sleeper will awake at the long last?"

"Do you ask about that me, Admiral? As I have suspected, it's better for you to know."

"The free will, mister Coordinator, the free will... Perhaps, we have committed an error, after all?"

"I will remind you that it was our joint project. There are no mistakes, only statistical errors and percentage probability."

"And now you are speaking mathematician's tongue."

"And what else should we do right now? We can only observe."

"Observe his agony? He is dying directly before our eyes, dying painfully and unstoppable."

"So he has chosen. The Majority-s, you know, sometimes outweighs."

"And what about the Awakened?"

"He's still a baby. He has yet to grow up."

"Beautiful little one, isn't he?"

"Certainly."

"I am so glad about him."

"So do I."

"Tell please, what forms of curing medicine have been applied to the Sleeping one up to today?"

"Initially – numerous enzymes of prophetical nature, sort of. Two thousands of parsecs ago the strongest possible antibiotic has been injected."

"Which has been successfully removed by an organism in the first vomit reflex."

"Approximately so. I tell you – he's almost hopeless."

"And what about methods of shock therapy?"

"Yet to be applied. Already soon."

"Have been the patient informed in advance?"

"Two thousands of parsecs ago, when disease signs were already on his face."

"They are already on the face?"

"Now it's terrible even to look at him. I will not advise you doing so."

"And what about the newest local antibiotics of unique type? I mean these, you know, returnees from non-existence."

"A part of them has been already injected, some have not been made yet."

"Do you believe that will help?"

"Such probability too cannot be neglected."

"Will they be injected simultaneously with the beginning of shock therapy?"

"Shortly before that."

"And then?"

"It's for him to decide."

"Do you think he is still capable?"

"I hope so."

"Well, and how does Awakened one fare?"

"He has already learned to read thoughts and gained the vision of the future. I believe he'll grow into a nice one."

"I am too very happy with him. Even though he is a blood brother of the Sleeper."

"By the way, you have given me an excellent idea. As soon as this little one will grow up and be ready to read souls, it will be possible to send him to help, so to say, his elder brother to, so to say, move him away from the unjust path. Certainly, we will protect the Awakened one in all ways accessible to us. Minority, well, you know, is counting on our support."

"Perhaps we should delay a little the begging on this shock therapy? Wait, until little one will grow up a bit? This Awakened has already expressed a desire to help the brother, as far as I know."

"I will consider your option, mister Admiral. I will consider it..."

10.10.2010

## Copyright marasmus

"Hello, hello, oh respected TV-watchers and bear-den-dwellers, copyright-ers and copyleft-ers, letters-knowers and simple pedants! Once again Vladimir Vladimirovich Pupkin is here with you. Yep, yep, I have begun my speech today with such an unusual lyrical offense for a purpose, because – you will never believe me! – we were able to put our hands on truly unique video materials, capable to turn out the Earth upwards with the Antarctic itself! Almost now, practically in this very moment a civil storm of headquarters of, if one can name them as such, disrespected companies as RIAA and MPAA has begun in Brussels! You will, most certainly, yell, "at last!", and in turn, I, most certainly, will totally agree with you in this interjection-emotional exclamation! But let's don't run ahead of us... Because we have our correspondent from Brussels, Vladimir Vladimirovich Papkin, hanging on the wire. Greetings, Vladimir!"

During approximately thirty seconds a series of claps, clicks, and even some sort of unclear gurgling along with creaking and screaming can be overheard in the ether. At last the image on the cameras clears up and a face of viewer appears before all those bear-den-dwellers.

"Hello, Voldemar! And I have you know that despite all disorders going here, I am still alive and nobody ever dared to hang me up by anything on anything!"

"Please tell us as fast as possible what exactly is going on there! That's just a sensation – never before have the scale of the "battle for content freedom" been as such!"

"Indeed, Voldemar, something really unimaginable is taking place here! Central departments of RIAA and MPAA are being assaulted and attacked from all flanks!  Attackers are dressed mainly in black T-shirts with a picture of some sort of ship – and they battle for each and every window, against each hated fucked-copyrighter, for each inch of ground! Yes, they are armed only with eggs, rotten tomatoes, and even some leaflets – but look with what unshakable persistence do they fight! That's the greatest heroism imaginable! Voldemar, do you see it?"

Camera change a foreshortening of a review and a truly epic picture opens before the eyes: men in black and white T-shirts and vests shower windows of a many-leveled building with eggs and bananas. A victoriously sailing ship is painted on black T-shirts, a proud "CC" flaunts on white ones.

Some glasses in windows have been already broken, and sort of capitulation flags are hanging down from them. Somewhere from a top window a physiognomy of official is visible, which has been dirtied by a splashed egg – his expression contains all possible emotions, starting from fear, confusion and finishing with a rage, and to make the picture even shiner he is unsuccessfully trying to shout something to attackers, yet a mucous liquid, flowing down his face, is definitely preventing him from doing this well.

It's clearly visible how a group of company's representatives, still hiding behind a small metal facade, is desperately and with heart-rending cries tries to bash entrance door, but desperately rushing officials, who have previously managed to enter the building, prevent others of their kind from entering. Those losers, who haven't been able to get inside, are being shelled from the incoming army with double force – some of them have already simply tumbled down on the earth, have put a paper package on their heads and started actively clattering the ground with free feet, shouting, "Copylefters are coming!"

By all means, it's obvious that both a strategic and tactical advantage has been on a side of copyright opponents for a long time already.

"Indeed, Vladimir, we as well as our spectators are now enjoying this really epic battle of copy-writers with copy-lefters, creators versus parasites, supporters of freedom of intellectual property against creative-slavery! Such a scale, such a heat! I truly wonder whether this finally happened and God himself has heard our prayers? What do you think, Vladimir?  Vladimir, wait a moment, what are you doing in there?!"

Camera change foreshortening once again, and it becomes obvious how Vladimir from Brussels pushes hands in his bag, and with a malicious grin on his face takes out a recently purchased package, filled with eggs, swings his arm with all possible strength and throws one egg in an aperture of one of windows, where during this very instant of time one of the immoderately scared representatives of intellectual parasitism is running.

Whether due to the good luck of Vladimir or due to bad luck of unknown copyrighter, thrown egg falls just under the feet of running representative, and he with eyes full of horror and mouth desperately screaming plops down a floor, still continuing his crazy movement in a pose "hugging a floor, physiognomy downwards". Viewers have a unique chance to overhear the rest of his exclamation, "... And our eggs are iron!" and this very moment a joyful-boyish shout of Vladimir-the-correspondent blocks all the noise, "Y-y-y-y-e-e-e-s-s-s! Top ten!" Viewers are able to notice, how happily he raises his hands upwards and gives a salute – and then camera change foreshortening once more and we can behold his face in full size – and this time he looks like a rural cat, who has just secretly consumed entire grandmother's tub with sour cream.

"Have you seen that? Take it, beasts! For internet, for creativity, for copyleft, damn it!" the face of correspondent continues to shout.

"Vladimir, how much I do envy you now!" the face of TV presenter responds in turn. "You have practically implemented my dreamboat of a childhood! How do you guess, can we name it as..."

"A Copyright-Armageddon!" correspondent Vladimir-Voldemar interrupts him before he can finish. "It has finally come!"

"Indeed, Vladimir, but when will we at last... Wait! Wait, we've just got a bunch of additional news – similar battles have already begun in Washington, Amsterdam, and even London! Our ether is being literally broken off by reports from other correspondents! Wait a bit! The main headquarters of RAO in Moscow are being bombarded with eggs, bananas, broken CD-disks along with packs of used condoms! It's truly impossible to deny an ingenuity of our people! Oh, my warriors, oh, heroes! Just look at how wonderfully like boomerangs these CD-disks with shitty content are flying!"

A correspondent from Brussels, throwing a second egg,

"Incredible!"

"That's not the word! But enough is enough, I am compelled to urgently say goodbye to you, Vladimir, for tens of similar reports from other cities of the world are waiting for us! And to cut a long story short I wish our correspondent from Brussels both firmness and accuracy, courage and endurance in this unequal struggle, and..."

Vladimir and Vladimir amicably turn to face the camera and their faces blur in a blissful smile...

"And let the copy-left reign!"

10.07.2010

## Liar

Liar.

Nay, nay, that's not you for certain. After all, you have never lied to anybody in your life, right? Well, at least a little. However, this was almost millennia ago, and, besides...

Your parents simply forced you to deceive them, for they were too severe and strict at times – and thus you lied to them to avoid the next scolding. You sincerely believed that adults are all reasonable and fair, and you should stand up to them considering a sample for imitation for yourself, so young by that time. What a great disappointment awaited you! Since the time you have become a witness of how adults, surrounding you and – even! – your own parents have been continuously lying each other in things big and small, you have ceased to consider it as something terribly vile. Has reconciled and accepted this as a sort of a reality, given to you through sensations. Indeed, people tend to be deceived by others for they are inclined to deceive them. Well, this used to happen.

Then you had to lie to contemporaries at the school of the status of your parents – otherwise series of punches and clips were waiting for you because of that individuality of yours, unduly greatly sticking out from a crowd. What a joy is that your schoolmates couldn't check out your words and thus your deceit worked well! And as for you... after all, you simply tried to protect yourself from that false world, huh? In due time you have come to the conclusion that it's far better and easier to go down the stream instead...

And then you have fallen in love with a girl. Truly, sincerely, with your entire wounded soul. You thirsted so greatly to be loved in return! To receive even a droplet of warm attitude, a particle of sympathy, a handful of understanding... She deceived you for the reason that you have deceived her – you didn't desire to destroy the previously formed myth of your origins, and she had no wish of you being aware that you are not the first one in her life... and not the last one by far. During that very moment, you felt so deeply all the nasty meaning and essence of people lying to each other. You desired to restore your relations and build them up anew, to become another man – a true, original one, instead of that invented fake individuality – yet you had no more powers to refuse your fake image. You wanted so greatly to cease lying to yourself, but...

But you had to lie once again. To deceive people and be deceived in people yourself.

You manipulated their feelings and opinions in order to get a desired and favorable result. You juggled with the facts and pitted men with each other, humbly remaining in a shadow, only to come out from it as illusionary winner afterward. You made promises and never fulfilled them. You swore time and again – yet all this became simply the next useless phrase, thrown into the air. You knew how greatly people thirst inside to believe that a flattery, wasted by you, is the way you originally feel – and you willingly used this weakness of theirs to own advantage.

You have created a grandiose myth of yourself – an image that was capable to outlive even you because it required his last owner no more and became his own master instead. So, gradually and methodically, you have become a hostage of own lies, and there were no more ways for a retreat. Or, to tell the truth, they have become too difficult for you.

A liar?

Nay, no way! That cannot be you. You have never lied to yourself about yourself, right you are? But in a world where everyone lies to everyone in things big and small, it's so hard not to become a victim of self-deception. Yet even the grandiose of lies once began with small deceptions, right... self-deceiver?

And what can be more deadly that lying to yourself?

16.08.2011

## Beloved one

He triumphed. He was in seventh heaven. She loves him! Loves!

He heard it from her lips, she told him that! And there was not a sign of falseness and lie, no room for deceit. He anticipated it, felt it with his very bones. He knew that she was telling the truth. Something that she was experiencing. Something that was worrying her. Something she was dreaming about. Something she told him this wonderful spring evening.

The evening which he cherished in dreams and awaited. Evening to fulfill his past dream. The evening which made him alive once again – as if to be born anew. Silent spring evening...

He was saying that he has fallen in love with her, that his heart trembles when he looks at her, admiring, that he's glad to have met her in this magnificent world. World's ornament, a pearl, a sunray.

He kept speaking and saw how a charming and mysterious smile has appeared on her face. And when he finally has stopped, he heard these words. These words! Great music, fine music, music from her heart.

"I love you. I too love you. And desire to be with you forever."

Words sounded gently and mysteriously silently – but not for him. He shouted it all loudly, having no fear or hesitation of his feeling. That way so all can hear him – to be heard by the entire world. So that the entire world can rejoice together with him.

"I love you! I do love you!"

Words soared high and widely.

That's the way it's going to be. He will sing of own love, fearing no one, feeling no hesitation for he has nothing to be afraid of. It seemed as if heavens itself have smiled during this instant of time – smiled, blessing the love.

His voice versed highly in heavens. Casual passers-by were still continuing to look back at them, singing of their love. Some of them were even smiling.

And then they have been standing together for a long time, embraced. So totally close to each other. She has become a native one to him – a woman, close to his heart and soul. She was such a one even before these words, and not just after. For he did love her and not his own love instead. He loved her and was glad to give his love to another.

And they were running forward and forward, and fresh air was blowing in their faces, and the sun was playing on them. Much like the sun, feelings of two enamored hearts were shining in their souls.

And then a late evening came. Came so extraordinary quickly. And he accompanied her to her home – and said goodbye until tomorrow. Yes, until tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a new wonderful day, and they shall meet again, as always. Two close to each other persons, two similar hearts...

They have been meeting time and again, for days and weeks. Months. And every day gave something new. Offered the joy of talking with each other without rage, anger, and offenses, with no sign of pain. Gave perception of inner depth of darling and dear one. Powers for joyful young blossoming life.

A year later they have got married and lived together for three years. Three years...

And then he received a letter from his beloved. A touching letter. A farewell letter.

***

A man with the cheerful and kind look – the sight of young man, completely hiding from random passer-by his already elderly age – has smiled sadly and put an envelope aside. Then, seventeen years ago he has received this letter of his beloved.

A farewell letter. A letter that was full of light grief and long forgotten memoirs. He was reading through it, and tears were slowly sliding on his coarse cheeks. He was crying. These eyes, crying so seldom, were now crying nevertheless. He was remembering his former life, their love – and thus he was crying. He hasn't ceased to love her. Hasn't ceased. And that is why he was crying.

After all, he sincerely believed that they won't ever part ways. Ever. He was mistaken, cruelly mistaken... Cruelly? But can he say that he's unhappy for now? He has a wife – a wonderful and lovely woman, whom he loves as well and of whom he cares as strongly as he once did in relation to that woman. He has remarkable children, a boy, and a girl, his hope and joy – two suns, two miracles. He is happy.

It's just... simply old memoirs still chafe his mind, tormenting his soul. He can't forget the day when he has received this letter. Tears were filling his eyes that day – the same as now. And she was crying as well while writing this letter to him. They remained as they are, her tears, on sheets of this paper, which he was holding so gently and quaveringly in his hands.

What was she crying about these days? Of their parting? Of their intimate dreams of long joint life which had no chance to come true? Of their common love?

He didn't know – she gave no response. Was only crying and has sent him this letter. The letter...

Here it is before him. Semi-erased lines and words. But it didn't disturb him – he remembered it by heart. Each and every word.

Indeed, she has found another – the one whom she too loves very much and can't live. She has fallen in love with another. And does she continue loving him as well? Remembers occasionally with gratitude?

He knew no answer, once again there was no answer for yet another question. Yet he distinctly knew one thing – he has continued loving her, remembering with gratitude. He was grateful to her for all those bright minutes of life, which she has given him.

May she be happy with her new beloved, may all is going well for both of them! Yes, let her be happy! He wished her happiness from the bottom of own heart. He wished good luck for that new man as well, with whom she has been living for now. For he is a person as well and thus he deserves happiness.

Let them be happy! Let all loving ones be happy as well! Let them learn to love, demanding nothing in return. Let them learn the giving love, love like the sun.

"Yes," he has thought, "let it be so. So be it!"

22.12.2004

## Mage Nag

Today I woke up as always late. My pure and blissful Astral didn't want to release me in this frail, dirty and sinful world. But I had to. Had to return back once again to help the disadvantaged, to set despaired on the right path and to rescue and protect the whole horde of locally lost souls in every other way possible. Yes, I woke up as of late – but, after all, can a respectable and powerful magician eventually afford himself a little bit more than what is allowed to others? Well, certainly, he can!

Today a rather responsible day awaited me – a new big customer and, if luck would smile upon me, all honest brotherhood of his acquaintances were going to visit me. From the anticipation of a good bargain, magic heat spread throughout my mental body so that I left this dirty reality for somewhat about twenty more minutes. Having returned, I jumped up like a scalded one, for I remembered that I haven't yet managed to carry out today's morning ritual of purification – and started working instantly.

Under purification, I, most certainly, understand the ritual of chopping so-called energy tails – a thing, known to every magician of the slightest degree of knowledge. All right, I will explain for all of you so that you can understand it clearly: I was going to clean up my karma once again. It's necessary to add, that aforementioned process has always given me fair pleasure, and mainly the understanding of the fact that it's required to spend only several dozens of minutes per day – and all your karma for previous day gets cleared, you become as pure as the God's innocent person, and your chances to enter the Paradise stand close to a magic "one hundred" number. I, certainly, mean the temporary karma instead of personal, but that's it... a slight specification. And cleaning of personal karma is in no way tougher – the process takes about fifteen minutes (and recently thanks to active training I almost fastened it to somewhat about fourteen minutes and thirty seconds), and must be carried out far less often – one time per month suffices. Well, is that not great, not inspiring? Truly, great ways are opened for us, magicians!

Having finished off with purification, I dived into Astral once again to check the condition of my spiritual armor. Its state was, to tell the truth, far from the best – keep sharping, keep sharping their teeth on their own benefactors all these spiteful and choleric men, keep striking it with their energetic blows. What can be taken from these ones? The beasts they are, the beasts they are going to die once. And let their rest be a long one!

I poured a part of my morning forces into the strengthening of the protection, having especially taken care of areas of chakras and the solar serpent (for the uninitiated ones I will explain, that these are the most important power centers of a mental body of the magician). Besides all other things, this time I have poured truly other-worldly (my head and hands were still shivering for at least ten minutes at the completion of the process) power into designed by me "Shield of anger". Once more time I should explain that this is a special kind of energetic protection, which not only absorbs light and moderate power energetic blows, transferring a portion of its energy to a shield's maker (the term known as magical adsorption) but also reflects a part of negative energy back to the attacker. Now I will not only be able to take away a part of their own force but make a strike back to all these spiteful beasts, sucking away my forces! For an instant, I imagined the expression of the face of the one, who would dare to make the first strike and my spiritual essence was overwhelmed with delight.

I was distracted from this blissful state by so inopportunely made doorbell call. So, came, they came, my new dear guests, aspiring to recover from their nasty sores, unfairly bestowed upon them. Well, this work suits well such a powerful magician as I am.

I opened the door, already anticipating how I would greet my notable guests – but instead of them, I saw on a threshold some strange being with a faint resemblance to those which are called as Hounds and dwell in the bottom layers of Another world.

"Have you lost a dog?" the hostess of this being asked me.

To be honest, I was enraged outright. What's the hellish dog?! What's the hellish loss?! I have lost nothing ever, especially some dogs!

"I have lost nothing – and you just go away!" I bellowed and slammed a door forcefully.

Angered, I almost returned to my daily cares (I was especially amused to observe how silly and helplessly do the majority of these earth beings behaved in layers of the other world when after death their spiritual bodies leave useless now physical corpses), when a doorbell ringed once again. Certainly, I couldn't restraint – flung the door open, being already ready to curse this mistress of her silly dog with all known to me caustic expressions (and, probably, had intimidated her with a possibility to lay a curse for form's sake) – however this time there was not a single sign of the dog.

"Is that you a magician Nag Nagiyevich?" I overheard.

"M-m-m... yes," yet being unable to come to senses after such fast change of disposition, I mumbled.

"My name is... Well, that's of no importance, really. I came to you on personal reception according to the recommendation," and the man smiled.

What I really didn't except is an answer in such a style. Not so, totally differently they described me this future client of mine... he was not the way I imagined him. Well, no matter. The chance cannot be missed.

"Come in, sit down," I started to pay compliments (effective mean, by the way, useful). "With what affairs did you come? Whom should I punish, tear to pieces? In my career I had zero misses!" and I smiled warmly, having once again said my favorite joke.

"No, we don't need to torment anyone," answered the client. "I am having a problem of much higher degree, and a true master of his deed is necessary in the subject – for example, one such as they have described me you," and my client blurred in a smile.

My heart immediately jumped up. Something serious? Something even more difficult? That's a completely new story, real business. For I have truly bothered myself to be engaged in some trifles and dirty tricks such as notorious damnations and curses.

"How can I be of assistance, my kind friend? All my forces and knowledge will be at your disposal as soon as you desire," and I returned him a smile. Well, no way, I smiled much more attractively.

"I have the following problem," and the man suddenly started whispering, "I need to revive one person. Do you understand me?"

To tell the truth, I was taken aback a bit. Never in my entire practice had I to resort to the magic of such a power, according to gossips available only to faithful servants of God. But, well, you can never tell, right? Perhaps it will all turn out and business of mine will flourish. I would become as rich as a king!

"Excuse me, to resurrect? And would I be allowed to know of who is that so untimely deceased one? Your mother, father? Your distant relative?"

"No," replied the man, "not they".

And, having passed to whisper once again, he added, "It's me."

"H-h-h-o-o-w-w-w is that?" I was astonished.

"Well, you know... the theory of reincarnations... transformations... one thousand and one life... I would like to check it out. Let's say..." and this client comes to me very close, having whispered even more silently, "can you revive me in my penultimate embodiment?"

"A-a-a... i-i-i-s-s-s this possible?" I was taken aback.

"Well. I believe it's better for you to know."

I started hesitating. What this strange man wanted from me in this no less unclear day (truly is great the power of period of astral antiphase!) was ridiculous and surprising – never before I have heard about the process of reviving yourself. But if various theories of reincarnations, being developed by other magicians, are true, and I will have enough power to repeat the feat of the Savior... heck, one cannot dream of greater income and glory!

"All right," I replied much more quietly (very useful move – to speak silently and measuredly). "I do believe that our combined forces will be sufficient in order to perform this act of... re-reincarnation. However I cannot give you any guarantee – and, besides, in any case, you will have to pay in advance."

"Well, certainly," and the person blurred in a smile once again. "We have to pay for everything in this world, right? I believe plastic would suffice? Transfer of... m-m-m... one million of credograts?"

I will be honest, my tongue was taken away from me during that moment, and once again my head started spinning and hands started shaking. One million credograts! This is... this is greater than the most impressive sum I was planning to ask from this man in a dozen – no, in one thousand times! Oh yes, truly is great the period of astral antiphase!

"C-c-c... certainly. This w... will cover all possible e... expenses," I murmured.

"Well, that's nice. The transfer will be performed today exactly at sixteen o'clock sixteen minutes by that time, to which we both will be the witnesses. As for now," and the face of this man suddenly acquired some serious – I would even tell gloomy, shades, "back to the business at hand."

Preparations took about an hour. Flasks, fabrics, lit smoking tubes, crystals, waving of hands, words of ancient languages... and the like, and the rest. In other words, it was necessary to create the most stable impression that something is really going to happen soon. And then – it's only a matter of trick.

If this man is really so rich, if only... however, it's better not even think right now what could be possibly done with his money, which all (and not only some pity million) will suddenly stop being his.  Who knows – what if he can read one's minds? Now it's only required to distract his attention, and then...

Finally, everything was prepared. Well, almost everything.

"Come, sit down here. Yes, yes, between these interpolating light beams. And this bowl will be put here, in the center. Keep remembering, when I start a ritual – don't move from your place a single bit. It will be better for you to close your eyes completely. Energetic streams will become very intensive, they can bring down an aura segment if you move suddenly. Is everything clear? All right, let's do it!"

I stood nearby and started reading phrases taken out from some ancient doctrine. Their original meaning got was lost in the depths of centuries very long time ago, but they still sounded very well – I would even say they sounded quite magically.

After a few minutes, I sharply hitched my head up and rolled up my eyes, having upraised up own hands. Continuing my passes and uterine bawling out, I started bypassing my client around. Soon, so soon, several more minutes, to lull vigilance, to force him to lose himself... Secretly taken the knife I reliably hide in a side pocket.

Suddenly, without opening his eyes, the man said, "Well, and why is that there is still nothing happening? No illuminations, sort of enchanting fireworks – only some silly mantras from forgotten by all Bkhagavat-Geeta... To tell the truth, I am already starting to be disappointed in you, mister... magician."

He said the last word so frankly mockingly that I almost was distracted from the process of mantra-speaking.

"Be quiet! You will break the ritual!" I almost shouted.

"And it seems to me that you have already broken it, mister... magician. Broken very long ago... You and all your offsprings."

Something evil, something terrifying cut through the voice of this person, and all of a sudden I noticed with dread that mentioned ill-starred smile starts blurring on his face once again...

Now, now or never, while I am still having a chance! I snatched out a knife, and have almost jumped on that mysterious stranger (who have obviously understood all falseness of my game), but...

"Fool! Pity fool! Have you not yet understood of who is standing before you?!"

Suddenly outlines of stranger's figure began changing, it started growing more and more... and during that moment something with extreme force struck me sideways and flung away, depriving of hope and salvation. Already fainting, I managed to behold my transformed stranger – and the horror, wild, eternal, never-ending dread of understanding extinguished its last bits...

***

Am I dead or alive? Was reincarnated and destructed? I don't know...

Everything that I remembered – was sticky, viscous, become infinite instants of horror, fear, and pain. All I could not forget were words – words, with peals of thunder and stale ashes striking me in the face and ears...

"You have ruined my deed, pity fools! They, these creatures calling themselves reasonable people... you must have made them helpless before my false prophets, you must have weakened their reason, their feeling of reality, you should have led them in the other imagined virtual world, invented by me...

You didn't make it! Instead, you became sort of city clowns so that even the smallest of these creatures gradually started laughing at you and mocking you! Were you really so blind that you didn't see it, having sunk in your thirst of wealth? Have you all, my called ones, become so blind?!

And now... now!" it seemed that my consciousness won't sustain the anger which has been poured into these words and will forever leave my now useless body, "my false prophets cannot afflict them! They are unable to confuse their minds, they can't distort His word! These beings are simply mocking you!

F-f-o-o-o-o-l-l-l-l!

But now you are mine, forever mine... until His warriors invade my kingdom and are destroyed! All of you are forever mine! M-m-m-i-i-i-n-n-n-e-e-e!"

Pain, never-ending, unstoppable stream of pain have fallen down on me like a stone bulk, killing the last remains of hope and taking the life away. The last thing I remember, before the remnants of my consciousness were burned out by this fire of tortures, was the long, terrible, almost never-ending falling in the lowest layers of this very... Astral world.

05.09.2006

## Dead city

It does exist – and yet it doesn't.

It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.

It calls for you as something delightful yet forbidden – but few ones have time to feel its true bitterness.

It is so much similar to the constructed Babel tower, yet more and more are willing to climb to its top.

It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, braiding with webs all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.

Its stench seems fragrance from distance, and its fire – lovely illumination.

Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.

So much has been told about it, yet this does not reduce the number of its pilgrims.

It never lived – and that is why it doesn't know such thing as death.

It has been born along with the human. Will it be extinguished before him?

Yes, it looks like a massive city. But this is a Dead City.

A city of former love, now long since dead. A cemetery.

Graves, graves, graves...

Each of them is unique – one of a kind. But do corpses really need to be unique?

Tombstones – and inscriptions, inscriptions, inscriptions...

"Linen washing is so bad... start delight yourself like mad," as though the first squeals.

"A goat he was – a goat he is, no more loving, cease, cease, cease. Perhaps I'll now just kill him, rather, – he's always mine, never another!" threatens with all possible force the second.

"Just for how long, just for how long you'll have me in the bed, my pong?!" overstrains in the silent exclamation to the unknown listener the third.

"From own husband I have pain... but is new lover better gain?" uncertainly-shy longs the forth.

"Without family, we have a lot of joyful, shining staff... who didn't want us is just shy, so let them rot and let them die!" as though gives orders to dead ones the fifth.

"You're rather damned, never cool – I'll rather die than marry, fool!" dives in hysterics the sixth.

"All women are silly, but I am – the queen! I can go right and left in sin!" categorically assures the seven.

"The less we love the women shit, the more effortless we hit!" share his deadly wisdom the eight.

"You had betrayed, I saw token! Keep silence now, my heart is broken!" chatters abstrusely the nine.

"No faith, no trust, no beg, my friend, but carry insults through heart's land" calls for humility the tenth.

"Love is like a dream – yet dreams die. Just money help us reach the sky" is proud of his cost the eleventh.

"I love myself, and that is cool. To love the others? I'm not a fool!" secretly admits the twelfth.

"Gods gave us love and paradise – stop lying now, just rise, rise, rise!" frankly raves the thirteenth.

Graves, graves, graves...

This is an eternal cemetery.

Almost everyone comes here before taking his true place. He silently digs cold dead earth with his own hands, and so silently digs in himself.

The ones who came here died voluntarily. And those risen from dead looks like humans no more.

They have no idea if there are resurrected ones. But rising from dead often wander the streets of yet living cities. And it's impossible to put the pain, tormenting them, into words.

There is a legend that those risen from the dead can only be cured by the one who made them. But few resurrected ones know a different truth.

They know the truth of the Alive City.

It does exist – and yet it doesn't.

It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.

It first averts you as something intolerably bitter – but few ones have time to feel its true sweet.

It's similar to an ancient mountain towering among lowlands, yet less and less are willing to climb to its top.

It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, lightening all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.

Its fragrance seems stench from distance and illumination – as its fire.

Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.

So much has been told about it, yet this does not increase the number of its pilgrims.

It never died – and that is why it doesn't know such thing as death.

It has been born long before the human.

Will he once remember it?

23.12.2009

## World of God

With a love for God

The newborn God was cheerfully walking on city streets, which name he didn't remember for now. And what is the reason for a Maker to remember human names? Unless only for people.

The sun was joyfully shining him and its beams were playing in puddles which have remained from a recently came rain. He loved such a weather greatly – and playful Angels of Elements with both awe and joy in hearts satisfied this his request.

And yesterday there was snowing over this nameless city in spite of the fact that average day temperature usually reached thirty degrees in the "plus" side. And the day before yesterday the densely covered by clouds sky was suddenly cleared of all white fluffy figures in some fifteen minutes. Probably, someone even was christening himself, or, say, cursing weather forecasters with all colors of the rainbow shining today in the distance over a sea smooth surface, starting from gray-brown-crimson-in-a-speck. And God was cheerfully walking forward, inhaling the aroma of the sea, brought by the air, and spraying water drops from puddles which have not yet dried up. He was happy to live in this made by himself world. For, after all, what can be better than to feel your own creation from inside?

Today he was simply walking on streets of this anonymous sea city, enjoying his life. A life of a human, if it's possible to say so, – for he will enjoy the life of Almighty God a bit later. And, eventually, the life in a human body had its good advantages as well.

Suddenly something started humming in a stomach persevering and tenderly – even, to say so, totally human-like. Purr-purr-purr. A then – p-u-u-u-u-r-r-r! And then – w-h-o-o-o-o! With all voices at once.

"Maybe I should have a supper?" thought the Newborn God, and, having seen through a bird's eye view all the panorama of his present city-surroundings, defined for himself the next building, where he could stop. Just some ten minutes of walking.

The God smiled once again. Most certainly, he could reach this tavern in some thirty seconds – but what other surrounding him people would think if he has suddenly soared up like a bird? It may be so that some compassionate old woman or some persistent atheist would have a heart attack. And he didn't want to cause harm to anybody, even inadvertently. And, eventually, it was his righteous beloved ones who had still have to fly.

Top-top-top. Chpok! And splashes from a puddle, through which he stepped over, scattered on several meters on all diameter of a created circle, having almost sprinkled in addition the passing by man.

"Hey, watch where are you going, bungler!" he shouted on his way, still hurrying very far into the unknown even for him dales.

The God wanted at first to say something like, "My God, forgive him, please", like as in due time he was asked many times by his Son, who has arrived at this world as well, but then thought that it's somehow inconveniently to ask himself. And wrong as well, probably. And so he simply continued His way. He was still happy.

Well, here it is. And even the sign hangs over here, carved with beautiful small letters. Tavern "On the brink of the Universe". And slightly lower an addition: "Feel the aroma of divinity". Amusing name.

The incarnate Creator accurately opened a door, and carefully entered the building.

"We are closing in half an hour, but I am sure that you can still taste our aroma of divinity!" run-up fellow waiter smartly assured Him.

"Yep," the God said approvingly. "And what do you have in today's menu?"

"Oysters by French, slope by Spanish, dranniks by Belarusian, pelmeni by Russian, sausages by German..." the fellow started to list.

"Various things you have here," God smiled. "And something a little bit more, say, exotic?"

"Mmm..." the waited hesitated for a moment. "Galushki by Ukraine?"

"Suits!" the God was delighted. "It's always pleasant to remember own good youth!" he added after a pair of seconds and smiled again.

"A pair of glasses of water, if you don't mind," God responded good-natured. "I think it will suffice."

"Water?" the waiter was surprised. "Simple spring water?"

"Yes, yes," God responded. "And water can sometimes be sweeter than wine," he added a bit later.

"Well..." the waiter tarried a little, "all right. We'll do it now. Five minutes or so."

"So quickly?" asked the Newborn God. "You actually have more time than five minutes. I truly very much hope that all this time will be enough for you."

"Excuse me... in what aspect?" the waiter was a little surprised.

"For all of you," and God warmly waved His hand over all visitors of this institution, has not forgotten to point to a window as well. "I hope given you time will be enough."

"And what will be afterward?" the waiter as though was still in frustration.

"It depends on you, my beloved children."

"M-m-m... tell me, who are you?" the waiter was still standing nearby this mysterious visitor and didn't decide to carry the order for performance.

"Priest, or whatever!" someone muttered from the next table.

"What's in my name for you to know?" the God laughed good-natured. "My earth name is both temporary and eternal at the same time."

"Earth? And where are living then, forgive me for my curiosity?" the waiter was getting more and more intrigued.

"Everywhere," God answered quietly.

"Bum, or whatever!" again someone muttered from the next table.

"Inside you as well," added the Maker.

"Inside us? Where? What for?" the waiter was taken aback.

"Here," answered the God and pointed to a waiter's breast. "You even manage to hear me from time to time."

"Cranky, or whatever!" once again came the exclamation from the next table.

"Do we hear you?" the waiter still couldn't come to his senses from what he has just overheard.

"Well, yes," told the Creator. "A voice of conscience."

"A-a-a... why are you here?"

"Helping all of you. For I do love you!" and in celestial-blue eyes of God, a wandering on His lips smile reflected itself.

"And... for how long will you keep helping us?" the confused waiter questioned.

"Always I will," the Newborn God answered. "Such is my work!" and his eyes of heavenly color became, apparently, even more endless.

"A-a-a... m-m-m... the last question then... tell, well... e-r-m... whom and where do you work?" the bringer of orders tried to question again, but when he turned back to his unexpected visitor – he has already left.

Only the closing by the wind door creaked melodiously, seeing off such an unusual guest. And on the table where he was sitting earlier, there was a whole mountain of juicy and appetizing galushki pile inside the mysteriously appeared plate. For who if not we need the food, mercifully granted to us by the Maker?

And the Newborn God once again cheerfully walked on city streets and there was the sun, shining in His eternally blue eyes. He was happy to live in this world and in this nameless city of planet Earth.

12.10.2010

## Maybe

"I have looked around me – and struck was my soul by sufferings of men..."

A.N. Radishchev

This world is on the razor-edge. The break is coming very close. You are even totally incapable to foresee when and what can provoke a final chord. Yet you are so proud of yourselves, so falsely pragmatic... Do you have another home?

You have been devastating this planet for centuries, and its destruction by your joint efforts have now reached truly catastrophic scales. You are truly unaware of what you are doing. You have been given a fine, pure, perfect home, but you have transformed it into something. Yet one world is not enough for you, and thus you have started crawling in your under-space jalopies into others... Do you truly believe you will be freely allowed to raze them as well?

Behold the ones you are following. Look at the ones you are listening to. Inspect what you believe in, and your destiny will not look dreadful to you any longer. One giant "b-o-o-o-m!" – and everything can be started anew? But what will happen to your souls, what is awaiting them after such a chord for this world? You don't even try to reflect on that! Such a scenario for your minds is only some sort of a horror story for a certain phantasmagoric Hollywood, yes? However, at such a succession of events, you will feel fear instead of fun in reality. How far you are from an understanding of the true scales of your disaster!

Look for now at your politicians, your scientists, medics and those who call themselves no less than servants of God, bearing no right for that. And, having done that, have once courage to look inside the very depths of yourselves. For how many times have you tasted the unctuous nectar of lie, flowing from the lips of those to whom you have voluntary given the right to dominate over yourselves? For how many times have they promised to build a Paradise on the Earth? Do you still believe that such a task is in their powers and meets their proportions?

How many wars have you waged under their command? Constantly do they call you for new destructions so that in that endless chaos can they climb on a notorious Olympus at least for an instant. Whether they are not caliphs-for-an-hour? Or do you believe that these leaders of yours should be given more time once again, so that together with their brothers-in-arms scientists can they enter a new round of races for possession of even more deadly weapons? Or perhaps you are hoping that these races will go on and on forevermore endlessly, that only possession of weapons and physical forces will be a sufficient basis for the preservation of terrestrial nations? But what is the reason to keep those that keep destroying this world particle after a particle? Or have you a guess that all the true prophets who have come to your world were speaking of some other's irrelevant fate and were teaching you of something completely abstract and thus useless?

Look now at those ones whom you are calling as scientists. With your combined efforts you have managed to turn this world into one big dump. Do you truly think that possession of technics can expiate your paralysis of spirit? Your accomplices have already invented those things which are capable to destroy all physical life on this planet. Do you desire to go further in that? You haven't enough of it? Or do you consider yourselves still traveling the divine way, more and more linking yourself with a machine and thus being gradually transformed into it? You know almost nothing of the true possibilities of spirit! And whether all these advanced achievements of science and technology have made you truly joyful and happy beings, whether they have added something to the beauty of your inner "I"? You keep collecting dust in your palms, believing it is to be some sort of a jewel, while your true jewel keeps becoming dusty inside you. Soon you will start trusting opinions of machines more than ones of your neighbors and after that even more that of your own. Then you will replace yourselves with machines-cyborgs. But whether this universe needs yet another planetary factory, producing biological robots?

Whether your medics will be capable to cure you of such a spiritual transformation, while they can't even heal your bodies? Or do you think that body and spirit are not linked together by invisible threads? Or are you hoping to find next miraculous pill from all troubles and sorrows, fading of spirit being included? But have the prophets taught you of that? And whether doctors of your desire to understand that violation of laws of spirit always goes before body illnesses? Or, perhaps, they are aware of all invisible consequences of hatred and rage? Or something about the destiny of children's souls whose bodies are suffering from "incurable" diseases, because they have chosen the path of the atonement of many from their kin? But you are so hurrying to accuse of disgrace the Highest Powers, that you don't even notice how you are dirtying the souls of your own children, thus starting slowly killing yourselves as well. No sort of pills will ever help you to purify yourselves from own-brought spiritual infection. But, maybe, suffering, you will once learn to truly love each other...

For it is the love of which all the true prophets were telling you! But whether it is the love glimmering in the hearts of those who have proclaimed themselves as their followers? Oh, if only it was that way! But a thirst for wealth and power possessed them and made their hearts stale to human suffering. Therefore, do they feast nowadays in luxury with the world being on the break, but whether it's not a feast during a plague-time? Therefore, ready they are to willingly rob the ones trusting them of their last possessions, and banish them back to God, whom they serve not. Maybe someone, banished by these servants, will once find the Maker outside of temples walls. Maybe at least some will understand that God is not living in the houses of those worshipping a mammon. Maybe they will once bring this message to others.

May you know that this world is still alive only thanking God's Greatest Favor. Only his endless love constraints that relentless stream of evil born by you, which is capable of destroying this world in a single flash of time, has found itself a way out. His hands have the God stretched over this world and carries it in them like it is a child. But some of your kind still have enough impudence to accuse him of the absence of care of your modest personalities!

Maybe, one day you will see everything clearly. Maybe, you will manage to understand and do something of vital importance in your lives. Maybe you will get rid of the illusions which have flooded your world. Maybe, you will finally fall in love with the one who has given birth to your spirit and has gifted you a wonderful home. Maybe under his care and with his great aid, you will once transform this world into a living Paradise.

Oh, how wonderful would that be!

27.07.2012

## Maybe, father

Maybe you will be destined to remember of me once. Maybe I will be lucky not to forget you. Maybe you will still manage to change yourself – and, perhaps, it will still not be too late for somebody excepting you.

No matter how much time passes – I won't be able to destroy the memory of the past. No matter how many years are left – you are not in powers to change it now. Mistakes of the past cannot be corrected unless they are realized as errors. It's impossible to pay off from them with gold or to just throw them away from sight. Payment time once comes, but with what the beggar is going to pay?

It's not possible to express in mere words of that I felt during those days and this pain cannot be easily forgotten. The heart is a too sensitive organ, and scars on it can heal for entire life – and your operation on it lasted for many years. You know, you didn't manage to qualify for an excellent doctor – but you would certainly turn out to be a perfect butcher if you could concentrate your efforts a little bit more. Just one more pinch of cruelty, a handful of rage, one more kilogram of complacency and arrogance, a couple of liters of tears of others – I bet you would like it. Yet the time of atonement comes once –  and prisons start breaking. When all prisons of human sufferings are destroyed – this world will change itself.

I remember that I didn't want to live in the past – and now I want to live forever. Every day could become a hell in itself previously – and now all my life gradually becomes a paradise. I was forced to afraid myself – and now I can give myself to others. Rage burned my wings in the past – but new ones have almost grown again. A strange whim of fate – you had to be in my life and you shouldn't be inside it at the same time. Your participation in it became both a blessing and a curse, but now I clearly know which one of them is greater – for walls of the former prison are crumbling before my feet and my heart is still beating. It was necessary to pass on foot through the hell to finally feel own wings behind my back.

Justice will once triumph and the circle will be closed – yet not now. By the time it happens, I will already manage to forget of you, for only kind memoirs live in hearts of men, or otherwise they would bleed to death. I will wash my heart in waters of time and purify it from memory of the past – but remember that you should clear your past on your own. Will you have time to purify it in waters of repentance?

A wonderful whim of fate – by changing ourselves we help those we love. But I am uncertain if I still have any love for you – and you should at least stop despising. Time is running out, for this self-made prison is that last thing that still connects us. But now I bear no regrets for the past – if it was different I might not be able to see walls of my own prison, and without breaking that cage there cannot be a speech of flying. I hope I won't regret my future as well.

Time changes people. Time alters worlds. Time transforms universes. The flow of time will gradually clean last remaining wounds and wind of change will dry them up, for when you are given wings – it's a crime not to fly. I am ready to forgive you, but remember that no one ever managed to escape from himself, and there is at least one instant on the edge of this life when a man learns who he is in truth – whether he asked for it or not.

Maybe you will be able to regret your actions before this moment comes. Maybe hope can still be resurrected. Maybe love didn't abandon our hearts forever. Maybe we will still manage to meet with each other one last time.

Maybe, father.

05.02.2009

## Mutants of our age

Present list, entitled as "Mutants of our century", represents itself a result of long-term researches by geneticists of our society of tendencies of susceptibility of separate individuals and their groups for recently amplifying various soul-genetically mutations, as well as characteristics of these types of mutations as they are.

We do not apply for absolute accuracy and completeness of presented material for a simple reason that it's extremely difficult to describe a thoroughly entire aspect of alteration of psycho-world-outlook component of mutating individuals, as well as predict the possibility of the emergence of newer, still unknown to us types of mutations. We can only hope that like all diseases, currently known to mankind, this class of them will also once come to naught in a certain period a natural way.

Along with that, we want to recommend all individuals to try carefully watch over their own soul-phycho-health in order to minimize the risk of infection.

Characteristics of separate types of mutations follow below.

1. "Mindless"

This is one of the most widespread among individuals sort of mutation. According to our calculations, almost one-half of all individuals of our planetary society have appeared to be subject to infection by it. Described type of mutation is not congenital, and can only be "acquired" later in life. For still obscure reasons even individuals with high natural resistance to this mutation can still be afflicted by it in case of their long stay in the company of other already afflicted ones – in scientific nature this effect has been called as "Effect of crowd-mind-losing".

Reasons for this phenomenon most likely lie in still unknown ways of the non-physical interaction of individuals of our society among themselves. Individuals who have undergone this type of mutations appear to be incapable adequately comprehend a surrounding them objective reality, become strongly enslaved by self-made or inspired from outside various illusions, they gradually lose any critical evaluation of perceived streams of information, and start resembling by so-called by writers and fantasts of the past "zombies".

The mutational process can have a rather continuous and long character, having stretched throughout the entire planetary life of the individual. Let's note that due to reasons still unknown a small number of individuals appeared to be totally resistant to this type of mutation. Possible causes for this immunity lie is accelerated and strengthened synthesis of hormone "Reason" in their organisms. So far, according to statistical data in which is available to us, similar individuals make about one percent of their total number. In addition, another curious feature of this type of mutations, revealed by us, is the probability of its spontaneous termination in case of introduction of the individual into a company of mentioned resistant individuals and rather continuous staying in it – in scientific literature this phenomenon received a name "Light of reason". True cases and roots of a similar phenomenon remains a mystery still.

This mutation can become a starting point for formation and growing of mutational processes of all other types, and, in particular, "Ear-no-hear/Eye-good-bye" type.

2. "Rage-Caging"

Possible reasons for this type of mutations are the process of violation of synthesis of hormone "Good nature" in organisms of individuals along with amplifying synthesis of hormones "Anger" and "Irritation".

Those who have undergone this kind of mutation become inclined to aggressive violent acts in relation to other individuals, that in rather open and obvious form shows the processes of their loss of own soul-psycho health.

Forms of aggression's manifestation can be various and invariant by their nature and contents, beginning from verbal censures and finishing with physical impact on planetary bodies of other individuals.

Among all other types of mutations, this type along with mutations of "No-Joy" and "No-Heart-No-Less" has acquired the fastest by the extent of infection character. Due to the impossibility of artificial synthesis of hormone "Good nature", external attempts of stopping the mutational process cannot be successfully implemented.

3. "Eye-Staring"

This type of mutation is a little spread right now, which is, however, is totally not an argument for the thoughtless relation to it.

Mutants of "Eye-Staring" type appear more than all other inclined to external manifestations of the process of change of own sincere moods, they are also more than others susceptible to similar manifestations of other individuals. Quite often such manifestations are accompanied by loud "oh", "ah", shouts and sighs. The part of the similar process was called by writers of the past as "gossiping" and "ostentation".

Let's note that some researches challenge the fact of referencing these manifestations to mutational process, and it's considered that they are in fact rather simply collateral features of soul-world-outlook component of the individuals. Rather active discussions on this matter are being conducted now in the scientific community.

4. "Dire Liar"

So-called "pathological" lies – a radical feature of manifestation of occurring mutations of this type. Mutants of "Dire Liar" type resort to concealment of the facts of objective reality so often that sometimes appear to be incapable to distinguish own fiction from reality. It's hard to say for sure what purpose in each case is being pursued by mutating individuals and whether is this purpose a rather conscious choice and not a consequence of influence on their soul structure of mutational processes, however, the fact of change of a soul's structure of individuals is undoubtful, in which connection this type of changes has been separated into a dedicated type.

Due to the considerable shift of negative processes towards the identity of each separate mutating individual instead of its expression in general society, this type of mutation is considered to be as moderately dangerous.

For still unknown reasons most subject to this type of mutations are female individuals.

5. "Crafty-Looking/Crafty-Cooking"

Earlier classified type of mutation "Crafty-Cooking" in connection with its additional studying has been renamed to "Crafty-Looking", however, old name has been kept.

Those individuals who have undergone this type of soul-genetic mutations could probably become the best speculators and deceivers of the last centuries. At present time, however, in connection with an active position of Ministry of Health concerning the eradication of any harmful and negative spiritual processes of individuals of our planetary society, this type of own changes is considered negative.

A distinctive feature of individuals of given type is their ability to describe objective reality being in completely or considerably distorted state, achieving thus their personal, obscure for healthy individuals, selfish goals. Thus, unlike mutants of type "Dire Liar" mutants of this type clearly realize limits of objectivity and illusion at deception of others, but this, however, doesn't stop them from implementing of their selfish plans.

A distinctive feature of mutants of this type is a certain so-called "cunning" shine of eyes of their planetary body, shown during the process of their communication with other individuals.

6. "Fear-No-Less"

This type of mutation has been known to humankind from ancient antiquity, however, was classified as mutation relatively recently. Mutants of type "Fear-No-Less" appear to be totally non-resistant to any kinds of insurance feelings, be they either self-made or being born in the course of interaction with a planetary spatial continuum.

Probably, this type of mutation would even not be so socially dangerous, if it was limited to the spiritual-world-outlook world of a separate individual subject to this mutation. However, because subject to the specified type of mutations individual becomes involved in fate relations with others, untimely strengthening of manifestations peculiar to this type of mutations can prove to be fatal for other individuals. The history knows many similar cases when destinies of one people were altered by the cowardice of others, however detailed research of this question lies beyond this research. Let's note that manifestations of this mutation bear rather stochastic instead of permanent characters, which is, however, not a reason for their classification as less socially dangerous.

Let's note that a lengthy process of increasing of the characteristic for this type of mutations decrease of synthesis in the organisms of individuals of hormones "Tranquility" and "Self-confidence" can lead to a considerable lowering of resistance ability to all other types of mutations.

7. "Absence-Conscious"

This type of mutation is characterized by an almost total change of a spiritual component of an individual, known as "Conscience". The primary stage of mutation is characterized by periods of its spontaneous deactivation. In more extreme cases process of its considerable destabilization can be observed, up to a full atrophy.

Mutants of this type by their external manifestations can be similar to mutants of "Rage-Caging" type in aspect of causing violent harm to others, however process of harm infliction by these individuals is practically never accompanied by active external manifestations and has exclusively ego-concentrated character which, in our opinion, makes them much more socially dangerous, and in this regard this type of mutation was considered as considerably socially dangerous.

It has been noticed that during the overwhelming majority of cases this type of mutation further transforms into a "No-Heart-No-Less" type.

8. "Imp-In-Limb"

A rather new type of mutation, which has considerably amplified in the last dozens of years.

Probably, some soul-genes were brought from old centuries of so-called "Middle Ages" from so-called "witches", but it's also possible that this type of mutation is inherent only by only planetary generation. Anyway, the question of the reasons of specified mutation is still rather open and as thus being actively discussed in the scientific community.

Mutants of this type appear to be considerably predisposed to carrying out various so-called "magic rituals" with so-called "spirits", as well as to "black magic", manifested in "plots", "curses", "whammies", "damnation" and some other forms of psychosomatic suggestions. Some individuals of this type can also show considerable interest in visiting cemeteries, tombs and other places of burial of planetary bodies of other individuals.

It's still not totally clear of how real are such influences in fact, and whether it's an amplification of process of mutations of "Fear-No-Less" type. Anyway, in any case, we desire to recommend to other individuals to try avoiding excessive contacts with individuals of this group.

9. "Glamorous"

Also a type of mutation which was discovered only recently, which has not yet become widespread. A feature of this process of mutation is a gradually amplifying dependence of an individual on the traditional historically established external attributes of high so-called "social status" of this individual. Despite all rather active attempts of the Ministry of Health of eradication of these historically formed attributes, fixed in consciousness of a part of individuals, there was no considerably progress reached in this aspect still, which is shown in ongoing aspiration to receive such attributes as "wealth", "glory", "career", "popularity" and some other from the vast majority of individuals of our planetary society and forms a basis of formation of this type of mutations.

Probably, this process would not be so dangerous if the growth of similar dependence did not bear with itself such considerable changes of psycho-world-outlook component of individuals – however, because this process promotes its considerable negative transformation and amplification of susceptibility of an individuals to mutations "Gold-Mold", "Crafty-Looking/Crafty-Cooking" and "Orgasmus-Marasmus", revealed by the Ministry of Health specified tendencies of growth of similar type on dependencies in the context of our planetary society are considered to be considered socially dangerous.

As it was noted before, during the uncontrollable increase of similar dependence in soul-world-outlook component of an individual the process of mutation, classified by us as "Glamorous" becomes activated. For still obscure reasons in some cases, the process of mutation can gain transient character and as such the individual becomes so seriously adhered to a set of described above attributes of a social status, that he becomes incapable of imagining his life without them.

As we managed to find out during researches in the case when in the near future the individual manages to gain these attributes, he practically always along with this type of mutation appears to be considerably subjected to mutation of "Orgasmus-Marasmus" type. In the opposite case, the individual can become to be even more considerably subjected to one of the mutations from the list – "Rage-Caging", "Dire Liar", "Nervous-Traverse".

We are being seriously disturbed along with researches from the Ministry of Health by a tendency of last years for more and more propagandized image of world-soul-sensation, provoking strengthening of the dependence of individuals from the majority of above-mentioned attributes of "wellbeing" as such tendency potentially promotes the considerable growth of mutants of this type.

In these conditions, we can only recommend to not trying to adjoin in any continuous prospect with mutants of this type, as well as to realize all senselessness of attempts of achievement of those things and purposes which often remain totally harmful for your soul-psycho health as it is.

10. "Nervous-Traverse"

This type of soul-psycho change of essence of an individual has been known to mankind from ancient antiquity as well but was classified as the negative mutational process only recently.

Radical aspect of mutants of this type is their inability to maintain for the long duration a healthy soul and emotional state, and considerably increased the tendency of leaving it in the form of so-called "hysterics". Sometimes similar outbursts can have a rather continuous character, occupying several planetary hours. Often similar exiting is accompanied by such external attributes of their manifestation as shouts, groans, cries, inarticulate/muffled diction, incompatible movements. As it was noticed, especially subject to this type of mutations are those individuals with considerably reduced synthesis in their organisms of a hormone "Tranquility".

We cannot precisely tell, whether this type of mutation exclusively the consequence of similar decrease in functioning of soul-organs in an organism of the individual, or whether his formation can be promoted by other attributes of planetary social-continuum, for example, ones such as more and more accelerating rhythm of life, considerable growth of quantity of information streams, which have been ascertained by researches from Ministry of Health at the last planetary conference.

In any case we desire to note the high degree of efficiency of fighting with this mutation process, revealed by us, by performing such actions as staying of individual outdoors with its thoughtless beholding, complacent communication with other individuals, personal meditations and some other methods which have been known to planetary science for a long time, but have been so considerably demanded only recently.

11. "Ear-no-hear/Eye-good-bye"

The growth of a number of individuals, subject to this type of mutation, has been predicted a long time ago but has actually been formed only in the last dozens of planetary years. The specified process of mutation consists in gradual neglecting of functions (and in some cases – their further total atrophy) soul-organs of sight and hearing of the individual. During this process, the individual becomes incapable to not only objectively perceive audio and visual aspects of interaction with other individuals and correctly react to them but also appears to be subject to considerable distortion of perceptions of real and future objective reality. Being confident of own correctness, such individuals start teaching others of an incorrect picture of world-attitude and during that can promote emergence on the mutational process of "Mindless" type, and as such this mutational process is considered to be highly socially dangerous.

It should be noted as well that by external manifestations individuals of this type can be similar to individuals of the mutational process of "Mindless" type, which is not surprising at all, as this type of mutation is by its nature and aspects of soul-genes alteration can be considered as his successor.

12. "Alcohol-To-The-Fall"

According to its name, mutants of this type appear to be completely non-resistant to such a product of the past and, to our regret, present reality of planetary society, as alcoholic beverages. In this respect, their strongest soul-psycho attachment to them is comparable only to similar attachment to attributes of a social status of "Glamorous" mutants. Let's note that earlier given type of attachment was not considered as a negative one – moreover, it was even considered that the process of consumption of this type of products helps one gain considerably sincere relaxation, disappearance of inner soul-fear and, as a result, leads to growth of internal goodwill and soul-health of the individual.

However, as modern science has discovered, this solution like any other substitute cannot provide even the illusion of similar effects to a natural healthy synthesis of hormones "Good nature" and "Self-confidence" in organisms of individuals, moreover, overconsumption of this type of liquids in a long-term prospect conducts to gradual atrophy of functions of soul-brain, which promotes emergence and development of a mutation of "Mindless" type. Moreover, in some cases, the continuous process of consumption of specified means leads to the emergence of an essentially more dangerous type of mutations, classified by us as "Animal-Toll".

Due to these aspects of the influence of mentioned means on the majority of individuals, the Ministry of Health has taken a rather active position on complete eradication of their production and sale on all planetary continuum, however, any considerable successes in this matter have not yet been achieved.

13. "Gold-Mold"

Known for a long time, this process of soul-mutation has been classified as it is only in the last several years. As we managed to find out during continuous researches, only in the smallest number of cases such a mutation type is spontaneous by its nature, however in the most cases it's only the development of such formed earlier mutational processes like "Absence-Conscious" and "Glamorous".

Mutating individuals are distinguished by increased aspiration of accumulation and preservation of money by any means possible. To many of them give totally strange and unclear for other healthy individuals please such aspects of their lives as a considerable bank account, rich apartments, cars and other aspects of material manifestation of the planetary continuum. Some of them with a process of mutation has gone rather far do not shun of deception and treachery for the achievement of similar purposes of self-enrichment at the expense of others. The history of our planetary society knows many cases when similar silver-adoring tendencies of some individuals defined destinies of others, however detailed consideration of these cases lies beyond our research.

Due to the possibility of the similar fate-bearing influence of mutating individuals of this type on others, given type of mutation is considered to be highly socially dangerous.

14. "Harmful-Artful"

Probably, the rarest of types of mutations, classified by us, besides not differing by any amplifying tendencies of growth. And this fact can't help pleasing the entire scientific community.

Mutants of this type differ by the increased tendency to machinate, set traps, and to harm other in every possible way, more often –  by a way, called as "stealthily". The process of mutation can gain increased activity in so-called "childish" age of formation of soul-world-outlook components of the individual, however further in the overwhelming majority of cases gradually comes to naught.

However, in still unknown reasons approximately in two-three percent of cases, the process of mutation can outlive the age timespan of "childish" period of soul-formation of the individual, and stretch itself further through his planetary life. In this case, mutating individuals appear to be seriously dependent on such aspects of own life-development, as the aspiration to cause harm to others. These amplifications of similar desires carry more often stochastic instead of permanent character and can especially actively manifest themselves during periods of spiritual-defective emotional conditions on an individual, such as "irritation", "envy" and "contempt".

Let's note as well, that a serious amplification of specified processes of mutation (especially in combination of mutational processes of "Rage-Caging" type) can lead to a considerable growth of synthesis of extremely harmful to organisms of individuals of hormone "Hatred", that, in turn, can become the catalyst for transformation on mutation of this type into a highly socially dangerous type, classified by us as "No-Heart-No-Less".

15. "Silly-Willy"

Collateral type of mutation, being a product of base type, classified as "Mindless", in present time is spread among a small number of planetary individuals.

For mutating individuals of this type it's common to see objective reality in a distorted perception (which is a consequence of the development of mutational processes of "Mindless" type), which leads to their not-so-always adequate life manifestations. More often, however, such inadequate manifestations bear exclusively personal character and don't do any harm to other members of planetary society, and in this connection with the type of mutation is considered to be little socially dangerous.

It happens so that cases of manifestation of mutations of this type carry such an objectively strongly pronounced character for other individuals that they –  either for fun or somewhat seriously – call this individual exactly that way: "Oh, silly one!"

16. "Orgasmus-Marasmus"

Greatly amplified in last time type of mutation, more often it's a consequence of the development of the mutational process of "Glamorous" type.

It's peculiar to mutants of this type (at early stages of the mutational process) to have strengthened or practically unstoppable desire (in a case when the development of the process of mutation takes extreme forms) to receive pleasures –  more often of a physical nature in the aspect of own planetary bodies. Similar desire can receive such a strongly pronounced character that for the achievement of the goal of self-satisfaction the individual will not shun anything – beginning from aspects of social acceptability of own actions and finishing with aspects of own spiritual-psycho health. Borders of this mutation have started to gain such a widespread character at present, that it becomes impossible to accurately express main aspects of this sort of manifestation of tendencies of self-satisfaction of ill individuals.

It has been discovered during continuous observation, that during the overwhelming majority of cases this type of mutation in case of its active development further transforms into a much dangerous type "Animal-Toll".

It has still not been found out, whether this mutation is a consequence of the considerable influence on them earlier of some negative aspects of manifestation of the material of social continuums, or if it's, in fact, a consequence of the congenital inability of individuals to any healthy contact with social-continuum as a whole.

Nevertheless, in order to avoid infection processes, we urgently recommend to all healthy individuals to remember a model experiment of scientists of the past with a rat, who have wished to die of constant orgasm, and never in their lives to subordinate their spiritual components to physical ones.

17. "Animal-Toll"

Considerably social dangerous type of a mutation, which is a consequence of a rather large number of mutational process of other types.

Development of this process of mutation can be revealed on changes of external attributes of behavior of the individual, which is some aspect becomes more and more similar to the corresponding manifestation aspects of representatives of fauna. As it has been established during research of processes of soul-genes-transformation peculiar to this process of mutation, the specified type of mutation cannot live independently and always forms a pair with another process – and in case of destruction of "base" genes-virus, this process of mutation gradually diminishes as well.

This type of mutation is considered to be highly socially dangerous, because not only does it forms a basis of formation of such soul-genetic mutations like "Nonsense-Looking" and "Trite-As-Blight", but can also considerably amplify negative aspects of other mutations with which generating it soul-virus enter into symbiosis state.

So, the most dreadful potential type of symbiosis was considered a symbiosis of this soul-virus with soul-virus of mutational process of "Rage-caging" type, because in a case of similar symbiosis practically in 100 percent of cases the individual completely loses his human shape and starts reminding a wild beast instead, being ready to kill in a name and for justification of own anger, and thus similar individuals require to be expelled from their social continuum as fast as possible.

18. "Nonsense-Looking"

A side effect of the mutational process of "Animal-Toll" type, this type of mutational process is characterized by considerable alteration of external soul-image, perceived by other individuals. Especially accurately and clearly change of soul-image of a mutated individual can be felt those individuals, who have not undergone any of classified by us mutations – in this case in relation to mutating individual they can feel some slight unmotivated spiritual hostility. A curious feature of this mutational process is the fact that separate individuals with ongoing mutational processes of this type not only do not feel mentioned form of light form of hostility in relation to each other, but on the contrary can experience sincere attachment and sympathy to each other, which forms a basis for their gathering in so-called "bands" and "gangs", further purpose of which becomes vandalism, gangsterism and other socially dangerous aspects of soul-activity.

The reasons for the mentioned phenomenon of attachment of mutating individuals of this type to each other is still a mystery.

19. "Trite-As-Blight"

Yet another side effect of the mutational process of "Animal-Toll" type, this type of process of soul-mutation is characterized by the considerable introduction of traits and aspects of the behavior of representatives of fauna into so-called "sexual" sphere of life of an individual.

Mutants of this type often differ by their inability to control of an aspect of own so-called "sexual" behavior in a context of their society. Light forms of this trait are their deliberate and rough, humiliating, sexually-focused aspect of relations with representatives of an opposite sex. Heavy forms of manifestation are the aspiration of satisfaction of own sexual desires even through means of causing both physical and spiritual harm to the individual of the opposite gender.

An additional feature of a mutation of this type is a possibility of transformation of soul-psychics of the infected individual into soul-psychics of representatives of the opposite sex. In addition, a new aspect of this soul-genetic mutation process has been discovered recently, which is being expressed in aspiration of separate individuals to the establishment of sexual interactions with representatives of the same gender. The reasons for this phenomenon have not been established by now.

Let's note as well that by still unknown reasons most subject to this type of mutation of individuals of the male gender.

20. "No-Joy"

The mutational process of "basic type", which can be both a consequence of other mutations or to arise spontaneously. As it has been established, in a case when this mutational process arises as a result of other mutations, it appears to be much more resistant and steady than in case of spontaneous arising.

The most frequent reasons for the emergence of this process among mutations are "Ear-no-hear/Eye-good-bye", "Orgasmus-Marasmus" and "Mindless" during the periods of attenuation. In a case of spontaneous emergence of a mutational process of this type, its reasons are heavily weakened self-regulating processes of synthesis of hormones "Joy" and "Good nature" in organisms of individuals.

For mutants of this type practically permanent negative attitude to surrounding them reality is peculiar, as well as the absence of practically any potentially positive interests and desires – or, as scientists of the past expressed themselves, "constantly lowered emotional background".

Probably, the mutational process of this type would not be so dangerous, if not a steady tendency of the last dozens of years to its nonlinear growth and its ability to considerably amplify mutational processes of all other types. As a unique rather effective remedy of fighting against a mutation of this type, only the natural good nature of an individual can currently be considered.

21. "No-Heart-No-Less"

An extremely dangerous form of soul-mutation, showing a steady tendency of growth for last hundreds of planetary years.

Mutants of this type even at early stages of the course of the mutational process are characterized by almost full atrophy of such basic soul-organ as "heart". Similar atrophy conducts to their partial or full inability of any positive soul-emotional manifestations, sincere empathy to other individuals, spiritual support and manifestation of any sort of warmth. Such a transformation is extremely painful not only for other healthy individuals being in contact with soul-mutant of this type, but first and foremost for the very sick individual himself, because it leads to gradual continuous decrease in synthesis of such extraordinary important for life hormones as "Good nature", "Joy" and "Self-confidence" in connection with atrophy of synthesizing them organ up to complete and full stop. Due to name feature of this mutational process infected with it individuals often show some traits of mutations of "Rage-Caging" and "Absence-Conscious" types.

In its further development, this soul-mutational process transforms itself into a mutation of type "No-Soul-No-Less".

At present time the planetary science has no knowledge of any effective means of fighting with a soul-virus, provoking this type of mutation. As the only rather effective constraining development of mutation mean can be considered only active and frequent manifestation of all types of spiritual warmth to a mutating individual from other healthy ones.

22. "No-Soul-No-Less"

The final point of mutations of all other types and the most catastrophic of types of all known (and potentially – any other) mutations.

It's hard to predict by what ways one or several mutational processes of other types will go – but all of them can finally lead to a mutation of this type, and in this case, will cease to give in to any further treatment.

Rather seldom started mutational processes of other types manage to come to a formation of mutation of this type during one planetary life of an individual, however, the history of our planetary society knows such precedents.

We have totally no desire to describe all those sad manifestations and all that pain, which a soul-virus brings to its new owner, as well as all that grief brought by this owner to a planetary society. We can only hope that someday mankind will finally find a medicine for struggling against this illness, and the world will see such people no longer – ones who have decayed alive.

We can only hope...

23. Human-Like

Planetary genetic science and we as its representatives find it difficult to answer of whether this condition of a human soul can be considered as a mutation at all, or whether it's in fact still little studied special condition that is preventing of all other types of mutations from emergence.

At present time rather active disputes are going on in the scientific community...

08.04.2006

## We, the cats

We are cats, and you are people. And what is the difference between our species?

We are, for example, both soft and fluffy – and how rigid can you be?

We truly adore caressing and giving you our love. And do you love other men?

We don't ask much for ourselves – only a place for lodging for the night and a handful of food every day. And something doesn't suffice you eternally.

We trust people a priori – that's why we allow to caress and hug us to even totally unfamiliar men, even though we cannot say that each and every acquaintance meets our cat's temper.

When we are young and fed – we jump, hum and having fun. We simply truly love this life and therefore sometimes we sing from the feeling of our simple cat's happiness. And you, it seems, don't appreciate and value your life at all.

We are extremely diligent and accurate – you can just show us where our toilet is, and from that time on we will we going to piss not under ourselves, but exactly to that aforementioned place. And you have already dirtied the entire world, which is by the way common with us.

We eagerly await the return of those whom we love and welcome them with joyful cries and hum when they return every day – for that reason we climb on hands to snuggle up to them. And you meet relatives with sour expressions on your faces.

We aren't worried by the fact that you do not understand us. And you exhaust yourselves day and night, thinking that no one in this world has a desire to understand you.

At times we bite and scratch, yet this is only a pretense. To tell the truth, we are simply practicing our instincts. And you don't even need to pretend.

When necessary we firmly bear all burdens of out-of-family life as well as cold, hunger and dogs wandering in the district. And you like to give in at the first difficulties.

We never-ever bite each other to death and don't eat our own kittens. And you have filled this world with the blood of your kind.

You call us as smaller brothers, yet you forget of average and senior ones.

It's considered that we do not possess such thing as reason. And you call yourselves as reasonable ones.

We live a life which is several times shorter than one of yours but we are not frightened by that fact. And do you live at all?

We are only the cats. And are you – people?

11.12.2012

## Thought

Thought... surprisingly amusing entity! It's true nature still remains unresolved, despite all the praising of crowds of biologists, psychologists, zoologists, and the rest, and the like. We only think that we do think right – but who truly gave us such thoughts? We ourselves... Are you so sure?

What inconsistent to each other thoughts we manage to experience during even one day! Here we love something – and a few minutes after we are almost ready to start hating it. Here we think of the person something, and a short time after our thoughts lead us to completely opposite conclusions. Here it seems to us that we have learned and understood some concept – yet time inevitably proves to us time and again that these thoughts of our own knowledge were very untimely and not elegant. Who are we then if we are even unable to take control over our thoughts. What a surprising doublethink do we suffer from?

Did you ever reflect on why do these or those thoughts came up to your mind, and in what condition of your spirit do they make that surprising break? Just observe! Here you are grieving, feeling sad and lonely – it seems as if the whole world turned away from you to itself, having forgotten that you are the same inseparable part of it. You were abandoned by your darling, or there was a conflict on work, or you quarreled with somebody or took offense at something. Life is painted to you in gray and black colors, boring and ordinary-looking, people seem like pity egoists, and the meaning of life which you still remembered when have just arrived into this world, inevitably starts escaping from your souls. What kind of thoughts do you experience during these moments? Oh, I better not remind you.

Here you are enamored and joyful. The sun shines on the street, birds do sing – and you desire to soar high in the heavens together with them and sing in joy! It seems as if every passerby you meet smiles to you and shares your happiness – most probably, somewhere in the heart of his soul he is just as happy as you are now. You would like to embrace people and thank the life for its favor towards you, for it has already granted you so many happy and unforgettable moments! After all, do you remember your thoughts during these wondrous moments? Oh, certainly, you perfectly remember it still!

And how did it happen that you have combined, apparently, incompatible? That thoughts of joy are being replaced by those of grief, grief gives a way to tranquility, tranquility turns into inspiration, and inspiration grants happiness? Who in fact operates this colorful kaleidoscope – you? Are you so precisely sure?

Strange thing it is – the thought. Non-physical entity, created by physical by its nature brain... Or maybe he is not its true creator at all? You, certainly, remember how sometimes even in a scientific world such strange events were taking place that couldn't be described by pity probability theory. Pray tell, for instance, what is a probability that from many millions of people living on this planet two or three from them independently from each other will perform same by its nature scientific discovery, but one of them will publish results for the public slightly earlier than the other? What in fact is a probability that from an infinite set of thoughts these scientists will give birth to similar ones among themselves? Something truly improbable, yes? But nobody told you that these thoughts were yours, after all, it was you who desired to consider it as such...

And if the thought comes from the outside, like an invisible wave, touching your minds and souls, then who inside you perceives it – mind, heart, soul? And who gave birth to it originally – you or maybe someone other? And what if you are sort of radio, capable to adjust itself on necessary space "waves"? And whom will you then listen to? What will you finally choose – light, darkness, love, hatred, joy, despondency? Whom from unseen friends or enemies will you listen to? To what "frequency" of sounding will you transform your souls? With whom will you co-adjust them and start sounding in unison? Whether you will become a true master of yourselves, having reached purity and clarity of consciousness – or will allow the endless chatter of mind to blind you? Whether will you manage to hear your inner silence once?

You, probably, don't even realize what fatal importance this choice of yours bears. For before there was even action, there was thought, proudly marching forward...

17.09.2012

## On the crossroads

Sky. Bluish-blue one. Crystal-clear. A whole horizon without a single cloud. Cold invigorating wind, swaying floors of the jacket. Music, playing somewhere far away. Waves of surf, fighting against rocks and scattering with a million solar drops.

He was standing, looking forward, in depths of revealing view. Below him a sea was hammering, in its eternal work furiously rolling on rocks and powerlessly receding back – retreating only to assault this tenacious rock with new forces a short after. He was standing still, thoroughly looking afar. Looked on that sky, on a solemn sun, which has started appearing from a horizon and was marking the beginning of the new day, on mountain peaks and seagulls, flying by on the sky. He looked at this for the first time with that sight and sensation he was looking at this right now. Totally differently. Never the one he used to.

Rays of light, shining on a face. A sun, appearing on the east. Sunrise... Here the sun is rising higher and its beams start reflecting upon the water. Faster and steadily it's illuminating water, foaming and beating about the coast in its eternal and indefatigable work. The veil of darkness falls down and gives way to morning dawn – sunrise, marking the beginning of a new day of life for all living beings.

He smiled. Thoughts of a memorable meeting of his past didn't leave him. He has remembered that day till now – for ten years of his renewed new life.

A sparkling of stars in the night... Shining of the sun on frolicking waters... Cool morning wind... Rain and drops of morning autumn dew... The whistle of winter blizzards and cold winter gust, freezing open cheeks... Autumn leaf falls, after which the ground appeared as to be decorated by a magnificent polychromatic soft carpet...

Is that not wonderful? Not surprising? Not pleasant? Then why so few people behold and see this great beauty, for now, feel it and rejoice? Why?

No matter what, but he loved it. And this very day he came here, back to mountain peaks to rejoice this beauty, to feel it to the deepest vibration of heart, to learn to feel it that way. Returned to meet his new day – together with those birds, flying by on a sky, with a wind, whistling in a face, with sounds of his small little town, reaching his ears, together with sun and waves – together with a world.

His road is bright and clear. It lies before him, calling forward, into horizons of unknown. He has chosen himself the way in this world. It was ten years ago when he felt it for the first time.

A miracle? Maybe.

***

"I have no desire to do that! Have no wish and won't do that. Won't even think of it. I have my own affairs!"

"But you can do that. Able to, right? You are able to do it, and people do need it, right? It's necessary for them, do you agree? You can choose whether to help or not. It's your choice only, and I cannot do it for you. It's your task to decide and take steps in this or that way, and it's you who will do that. And if you can – after all, you can, huh? – then maybe it's worth to? You were in need of aid – and the world aided you. It's aiding you right now in that very instance of time, according to your aspiration. If you will thirst for destruction – by all means you will get it. First and foremost, it will be the destruction of your own life. But if you keep helping, the world will be answering you the very same way – you will see! If you will be kind – then you will feel the joy of living. You will become happy by bringing light and goodness into the world, helping those near you, having directed in uniform impulse all forces in this direction. No one was every truly happy by razing and destroying – but men reached high tops and far horizons on the path of creation, aid, self-sacrifice, and heroism. By traveling this way men did ascend to horizons of the unknown, moving this way, they grew over themselves, becoming stronger and more courageous, kinder and beautiful. Becoming a loving one and giving your love away, never counting the number of ones loved by you, – you'll be loved yourself, will care of others – and receive support yourself. Each and everyone receives in the quantity he gives away, how much he gives to those near him. Will be granted probably through most freakish circumstances, friends and acquaintances, distant and nearby ones – he gets what he has earned, receives his own contribution to life, only in the altered form.

Whether it's not fair? It's fair. The law operates that way. Sciences of yours will prove it – neither mathematics nor physics or astronomy. Life itself convinces in it sooner or later. One needs not to fear, only the understanding of the way of law is necessary. In fact, it has been known to mankind long ago, but whether many men have comprehended and understood it? The law of compliance, justice law, karma law – you choose the name, it doesn't change its essence. Nature and essence stay the same, "they will receive what they have earned", the way it was told once. The deeds to be done you choose yourself, what you will bring into this world and how you'll do that – it's up to you. You are free, it's your choice – always."

"But how do I understand that I've made a certain choice? How to make sure that I am still moving the path I've chosen before and haven't curtailed sideways?"

"How to learn of the choice? But you are making your choice every day – lots of choices, leading to new ones. Now you are carefully listening to me – you have chosen that. Will have no desire to do that – and no one will make you move forward. Remember of the consequences of your choices – nothing disappears without a trace and each choice of yours leads to new revealing ones. And the best advisor of where and how you are going is your own heart. Listen to it closely before making a decision. The sensitive heart will understand by all means where the good comes to an end, giving way to the evil."

"I took the first step. What next?"

"Move forward. The road will be mastered by ones going. Walk on the road of life joyfully and inspired – for each day gives you something new to master, if, certainly, you are internally ready to accept this gift. There is a life waiting for you – which may become full of wonders and beauty, if you allow them to enter the home of your heart, having decorated it with wisdom and kindness."

"Tell me then, what do I live for here and what is my mission?"

"Oh, have you not figured that out already? Your life is one of the myriads in the Universe. You are potentially immortal and this life is one of many. You can discover the meaning of life in everything – in the cultivation of the soil or trade, in studying ancient wisdom or literary work, in a vast set of other activities. This work can be joyful and be loved by you, bringing good to you as well as the others. Learn to love work. No matter how insignificant and small your work may seem to you – it's necessary before you will be ready to perform other, more responsible tasks. Learn to be kinder, more courageous, brave, surer, wisely. Help your neighbors by action, being asked for aid and learn to see when help is necessary.

A path from the animal through the human state up to a higher human – this is the way of people. The highest way of men, predefined for them. It's your way as well. Whether you will choose it, whether you will learn your true endless possibilities, whether you will direct your feet to the common benefit? This choice is yours. What you chose and how you will live on – thus your life will become. Living all in one world – planet Earth – people live as if in different worlds. Some – in bright and pure ones, while others – in ones filled with mist or poisonous stinking fumes of selfishness and egoism. Worlds of ones are full of prosperity and wealth, worlds of others look like a desert, scorched by the sun, where it's almost impossible to live. This is the result of their choices. What choice one makes, in which way he starts improving himself – that result he starts to feel in his own life.

Make choices and keep remembering of the infinity own possibilities that are still in the bud, yet entirely available with a selection of bright creativity and work for the common good."

"Who are these people you are talking about? Ones living in pure and shining worlds without pain and hatred, who have devoted their lives to others?"

"Warriors of light. Men, who have chosen a path of self-improvement, feat and work as life's meaning. People on the way to the new world in their hearts – pure and happy, great and magnificent, predicted for mankind. People, walking on a road, where revealing horizons are surprising, life is full of meaning, mysteries and new openings and people are generous and kind."

"How do I improve myself?"

"Perfect your thought. Expel thoughts both small and weed, don't allow them to grow and extend. Think on a substantial scale and widely, without prejudices. Aid others both with word and deed. Work over yourself every day. Trust yourself. Don't despair, ever. Don't stop walking the road of life. Learn not to be afraid of obstacles – for it's a way to test yourself and trials temper your spirit. Learn to rejoice life. Turn your look on fine things – and then you will see much. Learn to forgive, to love, to remain a high and worthy spirit in readiness for self-sacrifice and feat."

"How do I know whether you are speaking the truth, wise man?"

"Verify my words by life itself."

***

Sounding words. His questions. Answers, given to him. He never learned, who was that man standing on a seashore with a smile playing on his lips and thoughtfully looking afar, on a dark blue smooth surface of a sea.

He checked his words. Verified them in life, without covering himself with prejudices. Now he clearly saw the sparkling of truth in his wise words. Has been living a different life since that – a renewed one, full of joy and happiness to live, to improve himself, bringing good wherever he was going. These words are echoing in his memory even now – sounding a melody of beauty, harmonious music of life.

A man, standing on a mountain height. Shining of the sun in the eyes. Sounds of waves. The whistle of the wind. Rustling rough sea. Sun, ascending in the east. The beginning of the new day for all living ones of this wonderful world...

20.12.2004

## On the way to sun

We know from a childhood of how curses on the barricades have been cured, and of how curses were removed on the building spots and in the laboratories, and you shall lift the last curse, you – future teachers and mentors. In the last war, most bloodless and toughest for its soldiers.

Strugatskie brothers

I was told this story by a friend of mine about a year ago. He was working as a teacher in one of the schools that time – a fine teacher and a psychologist from a God, even though he was neither the first nor the second according to his specialty. My tenacious memory still keeps these images and words, which have deeply sunk into my soul, induced me to radically change my usual activity and the way of life. And I am not disappointed in the choice I have made – I am glad for it. I am grateful to my friend for that – and will always be, for my entire new life has started from that particular moment once. I am giving this story to you – and may you see and understand in it even more than I in due time. That will make me happy. So let's move on, my friends!

***

It was a cool autumn evening and we were talking, having conveniently arranged ourselves on some bench in a park, – he decided to tell me of a case from his educational practice. He was working as a literature teacher in one of the city schools at that time. Or, to be more precise, was earning additionally, as they say, – conducted preliminary courses in that subject for the purpose of preparation of pupils for receipt in city's liberal arts college. He has been working on that subject for a third year and was considered one of the best "experts" in the field, however, as I remember, he himself has been constantly screwing up his face during the mention of this word.

"I am not an expert," he spoke often, "I am myself still walking the path of knowledge". I remember as well how he was distressed from time to time to be compelled to prepare these "experts", filling heads of pupils with appropriate and necessary material, even though he was filling them skillfully and with mutual benefit and pleasure for both parties.

"It's not the main thing, Alexander, not that," he used to tell me. "I am compelled to give people smart charts and tables, which have been thought up for them very long ago. Yes, I can present it in a fascinating and interesting manner – but this itself won't teach pupils the art of thinking. Long-dead schemes, some scientific approaches – what's in it for them? To make true men from them – that's my goal, Alexander. To make people accustomed to thinking without prejudices and without prejudices approaching all phenomena of life, so that they don't say "it's impossible" – but tried, worked and achieved result instead – including these areas that have been inaccessible to their forces yesterday. I desire to teach them how to love work, seeing in it a constantly renewing source for themselves and the mean to open new horizons – for only free from prejudices people who love their work are able to study all horizons of the world opened before them. Do you understand what I am talking about?"

To be honest, I could truly understand little from what he was speaking but continued to listen with interest. All in all, my friend was a curious and interesting person – knew a lot himself and could teach much (no, not that academic sort of wisdom, but that of true life!). He was attentive and kind. He was simply wise.

I listened, and he continued speaking.

"There is nothing impossible by its nature – simply something not yet implemented – that's what their motto should be! How hard it is, Alexander, to combine the teaching of such world-outlook and pollute their heads with limited conceptions, imposed by this or that scientific approach, at the same time! After all, it's necessary to teach them thinking and studying independently, only that way both interest and hobby will join themselves – and love to work will become a pledge of free and bright creativity! We have to alter the educational system in that direction, but combined efforts of a great number of people are necessary for that. And while there is nothing like that is present and the position of a teacher – great role and responsibility! – is reduced to that of a slave – what terrible phenomena starts happening, Alexander!

I didn't work at that school on a permanent basis like many other teachers but could notice a lot of things. Third-graders, Alexander, third-graders! – I saw that "younger generation" for the first time then. There was no sign of teacher's accompanying children to a locker room – they were rushing through corridors themselves. On the way of the procession along the corridor, guys clapped girls from their class on asses, having speaking appropriate words, other children nearby were simply laughing. Girls perceived this as a due attitude, even as sort of attention from man's party – and smiled. Some guy knocked off a senior girl – right there hurriedly jumped over her, and, having sworn, rushed further.

Then I saw several of these children on a street – a company consisting of five or six of them have gathered around some little senior boy. They were periodically spitting out on a floor and shouted something to the clamped guy. I didn't hear exact words – was simply looking at first. Then the blocked guy started, apparently, begging them of something, and they began smiling. Then suddenly one of them quickly spat out on the ground and kicked the fellow in a stomach. I stood idly no longer – ran up and scattered these attackers. As I can remember, that boy that has kicked a fellow even tried to resist and wanted to hit me – I simply accurately threw him aside and then all of them started running away. From a rattling and bent from a pain guy, I have learned that he has borrowed some money from them – five hundred rubles as it seemed – for his mother to buy medicines. But couldn't pay his debt at the time, even though two weeks have already passed. That day I guided a boy to his home – he lived nearby. I secured that day for him... but who, who can secure all other days of his life from such ones as these guys, who, Alexander?

And the next day I have become a witness of an even more intriguing scene. Decided to stay at another's lesson – mathematics, it seems. The picture still stays before my eyes: very young and crying girl teacher, and her class, mischievously hooting over her... They put a rat on her desk. It was this time – and before that, there were chairs, smeared by paints, class journal, cut into pieces, even nails on a chair...

I learned this from her the day when I had to interfere and force to stop this "lesson" of mockery (children rejoiced that they could go back home much earlier!) and consoled this girl, who has recently graduated from a pedagogical higher education institution and got her first job...

Three weeks later Larissa  – that was the name of young teacher – discharged from office, having no more powers to suffer it. Left the school almost like three previous girls... However, she has sustained it longer than all the others – for three months. Others didn't manage to teach to that long...

She had left – and I continued working. But I had a different class, Alexander! They weren't influenced by that terrible tendency – they were worthy people, these almost graduates! That particular class, of which school's life I have casually become a witness, was considered, apparently, "one of the worst" in school. Meaning, worst in the company along with some other... Teachers told me themselves that these classes of young school pupils have become the main problem and not senior classes, as it used to be before. Senior pupils now seemed as angels in comparison with small "children". And everything has been becoming tougher each year... It was both a benefit and a joy if some of the teachers managed to bring up and put into the right place one of the elementary grades – and even to make them respect the study! But few ones managed to do that, and all other classes were left on their own..."

Then Igor suddenly stood up, his face got some steadfast expression and eyes started shining.

"When a position of the teacher is up to the standard of the dirty slave, and there is no respect for work in one's heart, yet only greed for money – then this nonsense, this muck has a chance to be born and spread, Alexander! And we have to fight with that by seeing the root and eliminating the cause. And we have to fight against it! If we want to raise a worthy generation, we should be struggling – we are obliged to if humankind desires to continue living! We need to teach people to love their neighbors, work, self-improvement – this is a pledge of a healthy life and life itself. Obviously, this is all well-known truth, but it's required to apply it to life, to bring it forth, life should be built upon it! That what is necessary, Alexander, so greatly required – this is our saving way".

Igor spoke, and I listened. By that time, I didn't understand all his thoughts and words – but for now, I comprehend more, much more. For now, I can see more – probably even as much as he once did. But let's return to his words again.

"As I remember, a woman has once visited me after my lessons – the mother of one of the children, whom I was teaching. It seemed his name was Slava. She was about thirty years old, though by her appearance one could give her much more. She was very excited and frightened – and I soon learned, why. Her son was gone. No notes, nothing that could lead to him or help catch his trace. She already rang round both militia and all other social services. As she told me, "Slava told me many good things about you and respected you a lot – he has almost become your fan. He sincerely loved you and I noticed that. And today he was gone..."

The woman began crying – and I consoled her the way I could.

"He... after all... is... good. Only... he only... drinks. And... I... silly I... taught... him himself... to... it! Oh, how... I... guilty... before him!"

Words came out from sobbing of a woman and thawed in the air. "Most probably the guy is in the next hard drinking," I thought at first, however, something inside me hinted that fortunately, I am not right at that time... I have learned to trust that something, which I have been calling as sensational knowing. So, how could I help her in that situation? Searches have already started and her son should be found soon nevertheless – I could only convince the crying woman in that.

And so I tried.

When she, at last, calmed down, she told that if I wouldn't object it, she would come back to talk with me once more after lessons – she is lonely and it would be easier for her to sustain those days of grief for the duration of her son's search. I didn't object.

And seven days after her son has finally been found – or, more precisely, have come back home himself. And the first thing he made upon seeing his mother, – he ran up to her, embraced and sobbed. He asked her to forgive that she was left without warning for a week. Said that this week was immensely important for him, that he has finally over-thought his life and become a different man, that he stopped drinking, and ceased all connections with his former "workmates" – forever, with all of them. He was crying, for the first time in many years. And then he came running to me – with tears still filling his eyes. He seized my hand with both his palms and began shaking it hotly.

"Teacher, you have aided me! Your faith in human powers and in me in particular rescued me, teacher. After all, you didn't even know that I was drinking – but that's not even important. Your belief helped me, teacher! Your words about the consequences of alcoholism and a healthy life (a short before I have just started telling my pupils of that and provided some valuable statistics) helped me a lot. Thank you, thank you! I will never forget that!"

To be honest, this is a very special feeling when you see that you've managed to help someone – this is a great sensation, Alexander! This is a joy. The joy overflowed me – happiness for this nice person. Never will I forget this day, never in my life. Always I do try to help people the way I can. Not all, of course, answer me with gratitude – and I don't even demand it. But this young fellow – he wasn't afraid to express his feelings... This is so wonderful – to help, knowing that your aid is pertinent! To know that you can bring beauty and light into someone's life – it's a blessing, Alexander!"

And tears appeared in his face. Then he started talking once again.

"Afterwards Slava used to visit me after he has graduated from school, – he has been coming to me from time to time. One day his mother came as well – said, that her son has really ceased drinking and embraced me with my permission. And then I worked further..."

Yes, my friends, Igor has worked further from that on – for ten more years he has been working in different city schools and even managed to start shifting an educational system into the way of formation of Men – yes, people from the capital letter. The example of education and the approach which he has created in one of the schools with the consent of its administration, have soon become very popular and other schools too decided to try them out – and didn't regret it.

But there were only several dozens of such schools instead of dozens of thousands through all the country. For in order to achieve similar shifts efforts of many people are required – if, certainly, the mankind desires to survive. And let that good example, given to these schools by a friend of mine, serve as an example for others. May his work won't be gone – but, improved, will be embodied in the world in myriads of young lives of our children. Let a bright memory of him lives on in hearts of those people who once knew him – and remember still.

***

I slowly stood up. A lump has got to my throat and I started crying – was silently crying, sitting in a lap and remembering our past conversations. Then slowly put flowers on Igor's grave and silently went home. I won't be upset and afflicted, yet I will remember him – my wise friend. I will remember him while I am alive.

I will write down his story, I will write many of our conversations – and will give them to you.

Those ones, who are ready to recognize them. Those ones, who are ready to change themselves and their lives. Those ones, who are ready to work truly. Those ones, who desire to explore this world with no prejudices.

And may your kind work will once become embodied in myriads of young lives of our children – may it enter their lives like rays of light to never dim from that on.

Let it be so, my friends!

27.12.2004

## Yet unfinished story of one spaceship

"Have you called for me, Coordinator?"

"Yes, Admiral, take a seat. Tea, coffee, ambrosia?"

"I would not refuse ambrosia... But, perhaps, somehow another time. Business is too urgent, as I understand?"

"And with no delays possible. The rates in this adventure of yours became too high."

"Mister Coordinator, I understand everything, but after all, we ourselves have started this experiment together to..."

"I have transferred this ship along with crew under your responsibility, Admiral, under your full responsibility – do you remember? You have promised me that everything will be as smooth as possible."

"Their free will, which you have granted to them, has appeared to be much more unreasonable than we assumed initially..."

"You selected best ones, Admiral. Three planets in different sectors of the Galaxy for three new races. You have tried to discover pearls on these planets-prisons, Admiral, – and where are your best crew now? Sleeping peacefully in cryogenic capsules onboard of this spaceship which has almost strayed away from a trajectory?"

"After the first Collision part of them have awakened, after all."

"I'll let you know, Admiral, that after this very first Collision the communication system of the ship has been almost destroyed. Even the woken up crew are practically unable to perform two-way communication. We receive all their reports, while they hardly receive one-two percent of ours. Multiply this by two-three percent of those awakened. According to our calculations the probability that they will manage to correct a course of their vessel on coordinates, which we are trying to transfer to them, and avoid collision with the second Ring, is..."

"I perfectly know this, mister Coordinator. I know it all. A current number of woken up crewmen of the space vessel does not allow us to rely on the successful ship-handling in a manual mode. And the auto-navigation system has already been destroyed two thousand parsecs ago."

"What's with other crew? How successful were manual attempts to shutdown cryogenic systems?"

"Completely unsuccessful. After Collision electronics of ship's systems have been seriously damaged. With the manual shutdown, the sleepers either die within several seconds, hardly able to realize what is happening with them, or get considerable spiritual-chemical damage."

"What sort of damage?"

"It's symptoms are the uncontrollable flashes of aggression to all things living. They literally clawed with teeth those, who have awoken them."

"And so we have the following: manual unfreezing doesn't function properly, and there are not enough awakened crew with required talents and skills onboard in order to activate automated systems. A vicious circle. And the second Ring is just ahead in the current course. And ship acceleration has been increasing all the time, making new maneuvers more and more difficult."

"Everything is correct, mister Coordinator."

"What protection measures have been taken in case this vessel will not pass it?"

"We have activated closely located orbital modules. Have moved rescue fleet from the adjacent sector."

"How many crewmen can survive Ring Collision, Admiral?"

"All sleeping ones will surely die. And considering those awakened... very few, mister Coordinator. Very few. Collision will break vessel's hull for more than forty percent. The spaceship will be lost forever in any case."

"Is there is still a possibility to achieve hyperlight molecular jumping, when the vessel will be traveling through V sector, taking his current speed into account? Being on board, you could help those awakened crew change ship's course."

"The chance is small, but... but I am personally ready to try to rectify own mistake. With own blood, if it's possible to say so."

"You know the consequences, Admiral. When molecular reassemblage in a process of jumping is performed, your memory will be erased. Its restoration will require subsequently huge efforts afterward."

"I know, Coordinator. No one is capable to perform this transition except you and me, anyway. It still gives a little spark of hope."

"For all of us. For even, we are compelled to pay for errors of own children. Even we, Admiral. And may the miracle help them all."

"Just before I leave you now, Coordinator, possibly forever, I nevertheless would like to ask – how is this vessel called? I mean, how do humanoids, inhabiting it, call their home? We have our own name for it, but nevertheless..."

"Admiral, don't make me believe that you have already passed the process of molecular reassemblage directly before my eyes. You perfectly know how they call it," and Coordinator smiled sadly, "that they call it "The Earth".

16.07.2010

## Ill mind

Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light.

An endless, limitless stream of alterations. And no more one could see the end of it, and no longer the point of beginning could be found.

Darkness. Light. Darkness. Light.

There were times when the consciousness almost completely abandoned him – and sticky, slippery, frightening with their hopelessness minutes of madness took its place. At times, however, it became a little better. As if cobwebs that have surrounded and enveloped the brain and chained the mind, finally cracked. As if someone – apparently, for mockery – decided to make fun of this being, giving again the possibility to feel for a brief moment now inaccessible wonderful moments of a healthy life... and then in a single instant ruthlessly took them back again. This happened one or two days a month, but even this was an indescribable bliss. Because it's only going to get worse. Because there could be nothing worse than this curse. And it was impossible to find the point of beginning.

In those short days when the mind became clearer, when the shadow of madness receded away, frightened by the morning sun rays, – in those short days, hope revived. He wanted to believe that he will always be that way – healthy, that his worries would sink into oblivion, that fear would finally disappear, that like a phoenix bird he would again reborn from ashes together with his hope... But shortly after nightfall, these hopes died once again.

Birth. Death. Birth. Death. Who knows what lies ahead? Who will dare to predict?

There was no difference. Life here or death there... What difference does it make if life has become almost like death, if belief burned to ashes in the frenzy of fire of madness if hopes were scattered like dust? And then he had to pray for death so that it wouldn't slow down. So that she would finally come after these long years of alive-death.

***

Today he was given a chance to play with his hope once again. Or maybe they decided to play themselves – which is, in fact, the same thing. His brother came to visit him – and now, accompanied by two doctors, he was slowly walking through the long corridors to meet with him.

"It's painful-sad, no one gives a hand

In minutes of the soul's stormy weather.

To hope, to believe, to fall down or stand?

We cannot escape altogether."

Some person's poetry emerged from the depths of his consciousness.

At least, he couldn't get away. Just like hundreds of others living in this building, though.

Hope dies last, suffering in agony... She had already died for someone – and there was no more any difference. For him, in this day she flashed on the horizon with a thin bright ray of light – only to die again tomorrow.

When he went outside, his brother immediately approached him. Hugged, patted on the shoulder, tried to cheer up. They started talking. Brother asked how he was feeling, if the doctors were taking good care of him, trying to encourage and comfort... as if it could make any difference now when there was no more difference.

Nevertheless, they got to talking. Brother hasn't visited him for about a month, and now in spite of everything it was nice to hear and listen to him, cheerful and lovely – as he was once himself, never-ending long ago. Today for some incredible whim of fate the reason was bright once again, and the conversation could continue for a long time, several hours – of course, if there was at least some sense in it. However, it was still nice, and for a moment the joy even knocked on the door of his soul again.

"Forgive me that I cannot help you in any other way now. I hope you understand. I can't understand why you were so seriously punished, just don't see the logic. At times when I fall asleep and remember you, I swear and scold God who allows such... inhumanity. Damn it, I don't see the logic! I look at our world more and more closely – and, you know, I am starting to feel that we all have already gone crazy, got sick a long time ago. And many are much less healthy than you, many are much more inhuman.

And if there's any logic to that, where the hell is it?! Why are the ones who are really mad, who are nurturing and cherishing plans to destroy their own kind – why does God pardons them, why punishes others? Why almost always not those who have really deserved it? You know, no matter how long I have struggled with this mystery, no matter how many times I have asked him hoping for an answer – all to no avail. Sometimes I think that we were left to our own fates a long time ago. Forgive me... I am doing everything I can..."

"Still, don't blame God. Who knows? Maybe it really turned out to be necessary – to leave us for a while so... so we could find him ourselves? I don't know, don't know... I guess I am finally starting to realize that I truly don't know anything, that my knowledge is dust and it's gone as fast as it has come. And, you know, I have been thinking about it – thinking at nights when the mind was ready to faithfully serve me... I think it's for the better. Yeah, yeah, don't be surprised, it's for the best. Now I have much fewer things to worry about. I stopped running without knowing where I was going, I stopped pushing people next to me to the sides, I stopped appreciating so many things that others consider to be the only true value and began to appreciate others instead. And I almost stopped considering this unfair. Rather, perhaps, a lesson, albeit a very cruel one.

This is so beautiful... So wonderful to be sitting here in the garden, listening to the sounds of leaves and singing of birds, talking to you, who have come to visit me again – and worry of nothing more... I just don't have time to worry any longer. Now I only have the time for the beauty of my and yours – our – world. I was finally able to understand and feel this, finally managed to...

No, it's for the better. Let it be as it is since it's impossible to change, let it be so. I accept that. I have made that already. And even if I have not been able to understand why I was so punished, but I realized something else, something incomparably more important. I realized that life is worth living."

24.04.2006

## Unofficial appeal to the Americans

The time I write to you now is the time of change. Your uncompleted world domination is coming to an end. I call you "fellow" because I too am a human. I call you "sleeping" because you are living in a total Hollywood now. Nothing is real.

It all started in 1776 when thirteen Britain colonies declared them "independent" and since that day you were an extension of the imperialistic will of your former ancestors, continuing what they couldn't do. You were only a new body for the demon. But that body is dying now.

You have spread your green dollar poison over the world, economically bounding countries of "third world" to do your bidding – yet the world starts to reject it now. You have lent "security help" over your weaker neighbors – yet the world starts to question its motives. And in cases where your bully democracy didn't help you had no hesitation to go to war. It all started with the genocide of native inhabitants of the continent, and this idiom has long since then been your way.

You are the last remaining empire that dreams of world domination – both moral and military – with military force as a constant supporter of moral "superiority". You may believe that marines help you spread democracy and stability over the so-unsafe world outside, but these words have only become a perfect cover for your true geopolitical goals. Russia, China and soon Iran are the only real threat that stands in your way in this great Chess Game. But that game is nearly over. And what is the cost...

You constantly search for terrorists outside, yet you are the world terrorist number one. Perfect bastards. You perform military interventions under false pretenses, you overthrow governments that are not totally loyal to you. And in cases where that cannot be done openly, you sponsor those "democratic" forces inside it, causing the havoc of revolutions. That done, you shout for all to hear about yet another victory of democratic powers that will lead the country to prosperity and make the world safer. Yet as with any outside government, your puppets always lead those countries to downfall – a necessary victim for a greater cause. But as the world is awakening itself, it is coming to see your true nature now, slowly but steadily.

Is it not terrorism to destroy millions of innocent lives in the struggle for natural resources flow control? People of Latin America and the Middle East will tell you that. Don't worry about Osama bin Laden and the like – you will never kill him. Like an undying V. Lenin he will live on and on, never totally caught, always somewhere – somewhere your bombers should come to for the sake of security. Like a gin from the bottle from time to time, he will pop up on your TV screens, always telling about your inevitable destruction, as if you are not doing enough damage to yourself already. Such a brand. No CIA can easily part away with it.

You compare yourselves to Rome, forgetting about the fate of all similar empires. Rome has fallen. You can do no other. No president, either black or white can stop the train you are now traveling in. And you are traveling at such a speed that you do not even have a vision of where you are going. You were too strong to be fought with militarily. But as with all major empires, the ruin came from the inside.

Such is the way of Pride. Such is the way of Greed. Such is the way of Hate. Such is the way of all self-chosen. Justice has such strange ways which cannot be foretold beforehand. Yet it exists.

From time to time you ask yourself – "Why do they hate us so?" yet you have difficulties finding the answer. "Because they can do no other," you are told. Yet you do feel that answer lies elsewhere. But you have no willpower to stop this madness race. Decades of brainwashing will not give birth to a spark of mind. And it is so easy to extinguish that fire while it is weak... Remember: nothing is real for a sleeping one.

Will you force the driver to stop your suicidal course? I have my doubts. Yet there is hope. Until then, sleep. Let the calm dream of power cover your minds. Rest.

Justice shall be served one way or another. The Evolution demands.

28.10.2010

## Unofficial appeal to the book publishers

So, you must have worked well. I guess that was not easy. Most likely, you are happy with your own result. And whether it was possible to play this wondrous game better?

It's thanks to you the world has seen millions of new books and learned hundreds of thousands of new names. It's thanks to you was born such a symbolical concept as "best-seller" – something which is being sold exclusive good, bringing you well-earned profits. It's thanks to you each and every self-respected person of intelligent look could respect himself a little bit more thanks to the existence of yet another volume of yet another classic in his yet another private library which he, as it commonly goes, started and safely finished reading on a second or a third page. It's thanks to you the mankind could transform its idea of what a "real literature" must look like. And ceased to read any more thanks to your efforts as well.

You became a great wall, consisting of one thousand and one brick, connected together by a glue of a thirst of profit. You mixed together a solution of sound words of modern magazines and best-sellers and transformed literature into a business, having added spices of marketing for better taste. And then you started giving this poison to one generation after another, slowly and methodically killing a sense of beauty in them – because it isn't so really obligatory for those who will soon come to your books brothel to buy the next volume of a next author with so colorfully ornamented cover. Collectors of candy wrappers!

For you, it's not a question of desire to serve as the conductor of verbal wisdom for younger generations – oh, if only it was that way! It's simply a question of profit. Simply for that reason, you sell what is being sold better, and if it's ever necessary to sell something quicker than usual – you put a "best-seller" label on it. Nothing personal, it's just business. Nothing wise, however, as well. What a good business is that!

And what of the love, honesty, justice, after all – there is no demand for these? But how immense must be a demand for something different! For all these modern healers with fiery spheres in their hands and gilded nimbuses over their heads, promising wonders of healing in the next dozens of pages. For all this infinite stream of "fantasy", riveted day by day by newly born authors in their attempts to glorify own names – it's a pity, however, that a plot from these books becomes forgotten after a week or so, and except for a plot in a dry rest there is only a philosophy of "revenge and destroy" kind that remains. For all these political investigations, speeches, trends, brands, monographs of the ones-in-power – as if it were not politicians who have plunged this world into a chaos of wars and mutual hatred of nations! For all these new revelations of "theologians", who have transformed words of Christ and His apostles to service their self-interest, and letter after a letter, treatment after a treatment darkening and polluting their original primary meaning! And, certainly, we must not forget the books of the about-computers subject, which become outdated in a year or two – just a remarkable source of income on a prime cost to a price ratio. Truly, is it such a good saltwort? But whether there is much salt in it?

But even when someone comes to your literary magazines with a request to publish something – not for himself, without money, for those reading your papers – you prefer to keep death silence. Yes, it doesn't interest you, it's not in the format of your publishing houses. Who will ever read such things? Probably, only those who have become indifferent to ones such as you.

Well, continue to sell books with artificially created demand. Continue to promote and enslave new authors. Continue to give birth to best-sellers, moving with a mainstream of crowds. All of this won't help you any longer, not anymore. And if once for the down work of building a great cultural wall people who have flown above it won't even shake your hands – be not surprised.

07.09.2012

## Unofficial appeal to false judges

Pray tell, whether it's true that cultivation of honor and conscience is just not present in the curriculums of your high schools?

Pray tell, whether it's true that you are eager to become a lawyer of the Devil himself, as long as his henchmen will pay you the fee of at least thirty silver coins?

Pray tell, whether it's true that you have become both soul and conscience of the overseas nations, which are dying out, a long time ago?

Pray tell, whether it's true that you have replaced the God' Law with the law of humanity, and since then kindness and love have been trampled by the thirst of a profit and safely buried under a pile of codes and certificates?

Pray tell, whether it's true that your head is capable of containing one thousand and one more texts of the human law, and the soul has forgotten divine ones?

Pray tell, whether it's true that when defending obviously guilty one, you secretly whisper to yourselves such a prayer, "Oh my God, please forgive me!" but you are doing it so silently, being afraid to be overheard, that it's not even being heard by the God himself?

Pray tell, whether it's true that the laws, created by you, are not fit even into a thousand and one pieces of paper, and for the Divine Precepts even a single one – is just too many?

Pray tell, whether it's true that guilty ones often became innocent, and innocent once were often made guilty, thanks to your assiduous efforts?

Pray tell, whether it's true that it's possible not to know any of your laws – and to remain the righteous man, as well as it's possible to know all of them by heart – and to remain a sinner?

Pray tell, whether it's true that your laws often contradict one another, thus reflecting all inner chaos of your misunderstanding of nature of things?

Pray tell, whether it's true that your earth laws and destined to serve the interests of the ruling minority first and foremost?

Pray tell, whether it's true that you will willingly justify a criminal and punish a victim if the Nth point of Kth code orders you to do so?

Pray tell, whether it's true that you judge others based on your own temporal understanding, thus interfering with the eternal judgment of God?

Pray tell, do you realize that the day will come when God will judge even you, judges, by his fairest of laws?

01.12.2010

## Unofficial appeal to politicians

I had long suspected that dogs are much smarter than a man; I was even sure that it could speak, but that there was only some stubbornness in it. She is an extraordinary politician: she notices everything, all steps of a man.

N. V. Gogol "Diary of a Madman"

I address you today, power usurpers, ones trampling people with your unjust heel, overproud ones. My word is for you, mother Earth on hundreds of pieces dismembering, wars provoking and the world with the blood of nations fertilizing, mighty ones of this world yourself considering. Word of mine is for you, politicians of this world.

From human waste emerge you upwards, not sinking, in waters of national ignorance bathing. You go to the power with methods bloody, crafty and cruel, going over the heads of people much more worthy. You have already learned slyness in that way of regression long ago, considering it a social ascension unreasonably. To deceit others, you have learned millennia ago in the way mentioned of self-interest and human excess. Tyranny and cruelty long have you accepted and adopted, a way to the tops lowest with your elbows punching. Whether much does that knowledge and skill of yours cost for the world eternal, I wonder? Thirty silver coins, and never more.

Laws to serve your self-interest you do write. Keep flaunting with imaginary bragging you, as if for world nations truly serving – but suffer those nations still under your rule. For how many times already have you been thrown from those illusory earth thrones, whether you remember? You learn nothing from faults of your forerunners! Rob you the nations entrusted to you, red caviar over both cheeks stocking. On the graves of children and old men you keep dancing, of the economic growth keep chatting simultaneously. Of the cultural revival, you keep babbling, into debauchery with fornication plunging people continuously. Not to revive countries many of your kind keep coming, but to suck last juices, regaling, instead. The deadly poison that moisture is, yet its effect is delayed for a bit. And you are not Socrates to drink that poison and not to writhe soon enough.

The once uniform world you have broken off and torn apart, human foolishness and hatred having exploited. Now you pit people of various countries, own profit from mentioned wars gathering and counting up. How to unite people are you going? On the basis of hatred and rage only. Of patriotism you talk profusely, sending men on slaughters freely and eagerly. Will you desire to go in front lines on massacres mentioned, oh peaceful ones? Terrified you'll be to do that, and that you know perfectly.

Your nations you have been considering as cattle for a long time already, and you treat people accordingly. Of the justice, you've forgotten eons ago, and further indulge you the humiliation of people. They are no more a purpose, but a mean for you instead, and you despise them for that. Or do you guess, probably, that for long the Earth will tolerate your kind? Or do you hope, perchance, that endless with no court and punishment can you fertilize the earth with human blood in wars provoked by you?

Whether your television lies will ever be ceased? Whether the brainwashing of humans will be stopped? Whether your bravado and puffing up will finally bother you? Or have you decided that hands of yours are pure for now? How deaf to appeals of commoners you've made yourself!  Whether they will listen to your opinion further? Never you do learn from the mistakes of your ancestors.

For how long are you going to emerge from chasms unknown, leading people in these abysses directly and inevitably? Till what time people of this world will you plunder, covering yourself with self-invented laws time and again? Up to what degree tears of human's grief in tubes of self-love are you planning to boil? Till what minute, hour and year your slaughter of each other will be conducted, and common men a wasted material in slaughters mentioned will be?

Inscrutable are the ways of the Maker, and whether you know of the limits of his patience? Are you not afraid to overflow once bowls of harm, caused by you? Greatly does influence of your deeds spread through countries, invisible to you. Why are you destroying yourself so imprudently? Awake from self-complacency of own ego, or too late it will be! Those stones of yours, thrown earlier, are flying back already, and if repentance is not living inside you, their speed increases with each instant of passing time. With a true service to own nations, those stones should be melted! Or have you totally forgotten the essence of service mentioned ages ago? Never it can be explained on the fingers can it be, really...

Or have you no desire to lead world nations to prosperity? Or have you no wish to unite divided countries? Or has the purse become more attractive than the life of your own spirit? Or has the voice of your conscience been silenced definitely?

Let the time judge you accordingly and people take out their decisions. And if the people, tormented by you, will stand up once and throw you away to reaches unreachable, whether there will be a place for you to run to if you have been running from yourselves for ages?

29.09.2012

## Unofficial appeal to churchmen

I address you today, the ones who deformed the words of the Son of God for own sake and from own misunderstanding. I address you today, the ones selling the God. My word is for you, unholy fathers. My word is for you, churchmen.

For a long time, many of your kind have lost the sanctity possessed by apostles of God's Son. For a long time, you lack the eagerness to purify the souls of men. For a long time, you lack the understanding of Divine laws, laws of the spiritual realm. For a long time, there is no sensation of harmony in your souls, and God does not live in your temples.

Whom do you appeal to in shouts heartrending, performing prayers mournful? Whom do you pray to, bashing with own heads painted boards, known as icons? Whose flame do you aspire to support, lighting candles in temples of yours? Can you explain, why have you started to call water sacred? For a long time, you have forgotten the true essence and meaning of things, and only the dead ritual form remained.

Do you truly think that by selling the God you serve him still? Alas, not him, not anymore.

No one gave you the right to pardon errors of human beings, releasing their sins back home into distances unknown by waving those censers of yours. That right you have misappropriated, having deformed holy texts centuries ago.

No one gave you the right to speak on behalf of God to commoners, who have trusted you. Only on your own behalf, you can do that – but will your words cost much that way around?

No one gave you the right to sell portraits of Highest Spirits, named as icons, inside your institutions that are not holy. For are these icons really necessary to a sincere believer for his heart's appeal?

No one gave you the right to replace the purifying fire of awakening spirit with wax candles of yours. For it's impossible to replace the spiritual with the material, and the second never exist without the first.

No one gave you the right to store in your temples the bones of all "sacred" people when their spirits leave the bodies for the journey to the spiritual world. For it's not the ashes and dust that are sacred, but the heat of the human's heart that is turning to God in its holy impulse.

No one gave you the right to replace the essence of spiritual purification with bathing in the waters. For it's not the water that purifies us, may it be thrice boiled in silvery tubes, but the desire of our spirit for its purification.

No one gave you the right to limit the presence of God to dome markets of yours, as churches and temples named. For the whole world is God's domain, and each of us bears his particle inside.

No one gave you the right to do all that aforementioned. It's you who have stolen it, and great is your responsibility for such thievery, for you are stealing from God, for you are deceiving the people trusting you. Like blind ones you lead them into pits of religions – but who will fall down there in the first place, I wonder?

Those in disagreement you damn and curse. Those seeking God in their hearts without your directions you call as disbelievers. Still fighting with each other over the doctrines you are, merciful ones.

Or should I remind you, perchance, how have you put witches afire previously, oh holy and just ones? Or should I remind you, perchance, how have you tortured prisoners in casemates of yours? Or should I remind you, perchance, how have you organized bloody and "sacred" crusades? Or do you think that you have changed much since then? Perhaps, now you are only not trying to kill those not consent with you on spot.

But until now you have still been fighting among yourselves on silliest occasions, oh peaceful ones. For the service of yours have become a business of yours, and no longer need you God live and just. And if God has come to all of you this very instant – what would you tell him? Will you ask him whether you have made a correct quotation of your services and whether the demon of errors has not crept into the calculations of your prices? So know, that it's the golden calf whom you have been worshipping for a long time already, for when the sanctity leaves a soul of man, self-interest takes its place soon thereafter.

Mercenary ones among false ones, and so few true ones... Mourn and cry in desperation will everyone who has dimmed the fire of his spirit under a golden stream and the voice of his soul, named as conscience, have made silent. The last chance in this life you are given to wash away your guilt with worthy affairs, with true aid to the human's soul instead of its illusion, which you have been assiduously supporting. Will you be able to use this chance to the fullest, I wonder?

17.10.2010

## Discordant

You are the one who stands up against. You have always been that way and plan to stay in the future.

You were against such an enormous number of things that have long ceased keeping track of them. After all, when the direction is clear, individual fragments of the path become less important, right?

You were against politicians since the moment of admission to the Institute – and, perhaps, even while staying at school. They all seemed to you as such petty and short-sighted assholes that you simply cannot tolerate them. That's why you have always so jealously watched lots of their performances, silently arguing and debating with each of them and all of them at the same time, no matter what monologue they were performing from the screen of your TV. You were a good audience.

If memory still serves you well, you were against the entire educational system since the moment of getting under its millstone. Accumulated by mankind "knowledge" always seemed to you as a heap of inconceivable stuff and totally incoherent fragments of information, reminding more the undigested remains of mind's food of the next popular scientist who dared to write yet another school textbook. The school system seemed to you as monstrous torture and mockery of healthy children's desire to run, dance, frolic and enjoy life. But you had to go to a college at all costs, so you have been obediently sitting at the school and home desks all day and night. You were a good student.

No doubt, you were against the majority of modern sculptors of the bad taste that have managed by some unthinkable way and defying all laws of human conscience and sanctity to crawl over the heads of others on self-created Olympus, having mistaken it with a swamp due to own shortsightedness. Works of many of them were considered as a bad pop not deserving anyone's attention. Maybe due to that reason you have mentioned them so often in conversations with your friends, often lamenting that art is almost killed nowadays. And what did you do in order to revive it? You were a good critic.

Yes, certainly, you have never met with incorruptible officials, because it would be so disastrous for your cherished image of a righteous discordant, mercilessly denouncing enemies and, as a matter of fact, being quite satisfied only with it. You screamed in the ears of deaf ones and wrote complaints about the blind ones for the indifferent. You cut off one head of a monster and two new immediately were taking its place. This is how it all ended time and again – the system taking over you, depleting your determination and courage. So once you finally spat on all of them from all the heavens visible – sort of a farewell curtsey in the direction of a many-headed monster. The monster only helpfully grinned with all remained heads, taking no notice. You were a fine cog in the bureaucratic machine.

You were against priests who created a fetish out of God and mercilessly traded it in their almshouses – but with what kind of good deeds, which are a manifestation of real faith, did you decorate your life and the lives of your beloved ones? Has your and their lives become a singing – not mournful ones like in Church, but a daily heartfelt one?

Is it needless to say that you were against a huge variety of other most unpleasant circumstances of reality, for the enumeration of which we have neither time nor will?

Against, against, against. This became an almost automatic reaction. You learned how to say "no" without learning how to tell "yes". And situations for your "yes" ceased to exist in your life. They became internally unneeded.

So, unwittingly and condemning you continued to live that like-life that was so despised by you. You were cursing the darkness, not praising the light. You were denying the evil, not absorbing the good. You were destroying what was considered dirty – but did you build something pure in its place? You denied without offering anything in return.

You became the greatest of critics – one from your very sleeping soul. The curser of anything and everything, yet not the maker of better things. You stayed warm and did not become hot – hot with all of your heart. In order to grow something outside, you first need to cultivate it inside your own heart. But what could you nurture inside it? Your kindness continued to remain only the unborn potential.

It was that way before – yet your life begins now. It begins with a "yes" to the warm love in your heart. It's your life. It's your move, critic.

26.02.2012

## Similar ones

"Yes, Mr. Samuel, I am addressing you! What, excuse me for the allegorical term, the hell did you decide to ignore this blatant case of violation of our educational institution's charter? Whether it's not one of your tasks to maintain and observe all kinds of moral purity and integrity, as well as spiritual easiness of our esteemed students? Aren't you responsible for keeping in them that feeling of universality, uniformity, and admiration for our governing authority that is leading and guiding them for their personal uniform benefit?

Yes, Mr. Samuel, they are unique – just like every speck of dust that has found itself a refuge in some ancient and obscure folio. They are unique as every grain of sand in a desert, every drop in a puddle, every brick in a wall, every speck in my eye, every splinter in my heel, after all! Take, for example, germs, Mr. Samuel... Pray tell – are these beings both unique and different, right? They are highly self-sufficient and are not tormented by these most unnecessary questions about the meaning of life, their past, present, and future... They are not even bothered by the question about their own nature – and just look how deadly and strong they are capable to be in their unity! Unity as a mean to feel self-sufficient, as an opportunity to feel your "I" as a part of something bigger, something common, unwavering, unbreakable, all-destroying...

This is exactly their unity in uniformity, Mr. Samuel – the stable, grounded, led and guided by us. Catharsis, Mr. Samuel, that's a true catharsis – to feel like a cog in such a verified and perfect social mechanism that they have been building with own hands for so many thousands of years!

"But, Mr. Director, wouldn't it be better and more tempting to give each of our students an opportunity to try to find their own way, to realize their own potential through the manifestation of their creative gifts?"

"Now you sound just like my predecessor, Mr. Samuel, – and he couldn't stay in my current position even for a year, I would like to remind you. And what creative gifts are you talking about? Is it about the writings of so-called scribes of the past decades? Or, perhaps, about this very soul-irritating and disturbing "classical" musical rubbish? Or about these so-called "live" pictures? Or maybe all those silly stone statues? Come on, Samuel, neither this nor a thousand and one other ways of such individual self-expression is able to convey even a gram of that feeling of power that is given to our followers at the moments of the triumph of their collective similar unconscious!

Understand already, Samuel, that if each cog and gear in a clock's mechanism would have its own, selected exclusively by her and her only diameters and sizes – such a mechanism could not work, Samuel. Time would have stopped once and for all! The system would cease working, everything would come to complete chaos! For what reason do you need this chaos of collective conscious? Our entire system of education and upbringing is built to prevent such excesses, Samuel, with the aim of complete unification and standardization of every individual conscience, with the goal of its grinding and cutting to the state of a sparkling diamond!

We help cobblestones to feel themselves like diamonds in the total mass of similar ones. We as masters of our craft grind off every sharp edge, every unnecessary bulge, every unbearable sharpness and turn them into a universal, one-sized, revered and respectable, gleaming stone! Not even a stone – but a genuine diamond, a gear, a cog in the most perfect social mechanism. We grant them a sense of necessity, public usefulness in place of these silly and stupid feelings of loneliness and abandonment by all which are experienced by those unreasonable ones who dared to ignore our skills and traveled their own paths in life. They are almost happy because they are almost needed, and we practically helped them in cultivating of this practicality.

We skillfully limit the number of them working in different sections of our system, different areas of expertise – we even managed to almost unite them with each other on the basis of mutual benefit. They are interdependent and mutually united, Samuel, – yet not by the will of their own hearts, but according to the criteria in the highest degree practical, economical, industrial. Of course, such unity is actually an illusion – that is why wars are so inevitable and never-ending among them.

We give them the meaning of their lives, Samuel. Since childhood we teach them the "adult" views on it, depriving them of every idle creative tastelessness, all kinds of unwholesome internal slackness and lack of discipline, all sorts of stupid and ridiculous childish joy and happiness... Very soon, Samuel, we will imprint directly into the minds of our future offspring all the weight and power of accumulated by humankind knowledge shortly after the birth of these children. They will become ideal members of our united and unified society, they will know their designated by us place inside this society almost immediately after their birth.

We will make sure that they know neither the hunger nor excessive anxiety and unrest, that their life flows in a highly measured and monotonous manner, is verified, predictable and stable. We will go even further and eventually destroy all the creations made by these creative deviants of the past, so that the pernicious doubt does not creep into the souls of the ones mentored by us, so that they never experience the ominous creative ecstasy that sometimes averted some of them from the general social harmony of monotony in the past. You certainly understand, Samuel, that the world in which only a few thousand creates and all the other simply consume, burp and spit out these scraps of spiritual food – that this world lacks both harmony and consistency? That the world with unified canons, norms of life, work and creative delights is much more perfect? And exactly in the construction of this kind of world you are given the opportunity to participate, if you, certainly, have no desire to be in place of the few that have recently marched against... To die for nothing, though for the sake of something?

So, what do you say, Samuel? Why do you keep this painful silence? Don't you agree with me?"

22.07.2011

## They uttered "no" to their homeworld

"Have you too noticed this planet in the given star system?"

"Yes, and it looks a rather curious one."

"What has the analysis of its informational field shown?"

"I am unable to receive this information. The field is either closed or limited by a sphere of propagation to an upper atmosphere."

"And what's the structure of its atmosphere? How do you think, captain, could there be a life previously?"

"Atmosphere analysis has shown the prevalence of nitrogen. Devices have fixed approximately eighty-percentage nitrogen substance, fifteen-percentage oxygen substance, three-percentage carbonic substance, and other gases. Ozone layers, traditional for planetary systems of the given type, were practically not discovered. The atmosphere contains a significant amount of water mainly in the bottom layers. Is there is something else?"

"I suspect we should take a closer look at the planet. Closed informational field... strange. This is usually the case for absolutely lifeless worlds, whose time continuum of the future exists no more."

"Yes, captain, I agree. We definitely need to explore this world on its surface."

"Then we are entering top layers of its atmosphere."

***

"The height over a planet surface is approximately thirty stargrates. The massive water surfaces, reaching in depth ten stargrates, are being observed."

"And the field?"

"Still closed, currently unable to get the information."

"Are there sites of a surface of the dense matter, suitable for landing?"

"I am trying. Something resounds with psycho-waves and deforms them. It's necessary to search for a surface suitable for landing by a rough method."

"All right, let's descend."

***

"We are almost near the firm surface."

"Good, let's go down. Let the spaceship balance in this atmosphere meanwhile."

"Should I transfer the ship into the graventropic state?"

"Yes. Let's move out."

***

I slowly descended from "deck" of our ship and was shrouded in the graventropic field. Then slowly, levitating over a surface, began to descend.

Amusing world. Water, water, water. Everywhere you look around – there is practically only water.

I have stretched my hand forward – thus strengthening field impulses. A push – and the handful of a matter of a land has come off it and has slowly swum up to me. Water and sand. Sand... there is a lot of sand here. The oceanic bottom contains a considerable amount of sand too. How many similar non-water sites have remained here? And a field... the closed informational psycho-field. I have only encountered this once – but that star system was completely lifeless as though cursed to non-life, but here... other planets of the star system contained it, but this one...

"Curiously. Have you learned the age of formation of dense bodies of other planets in this system?"

"Yes, their fields were accessible. The age of this planet is close to their age."

"And yet it looks like as though life has left this world."

"Exactly. I do not observe typical signs of the presence of organic life for these systems. One endless lifeless sea."

"What's with the field?"

"I cannot breach it alone. We can try to unite the impulses of our psycho-fields."

"Let's give it a try. We need to try to read information of time continuum on the past and recent events, which have changed, if it truly was so, shape of the planet."

"Let's work then."

***

And we worked. Our fields resounded, trying to breach, pierce, force the way through a planet's field, without having broken its structure simultaneously. And over and over again, with each new vibration, with each new attempt, we entered into its layers deeply and deeply, and surprising, truly stunning pictures of this world's past revealed before us...

We saw green biosphere of a planet and organic life, which had filled it from one edge to another. We saw volcanoes eruptions and formation and movement of continents. We saw some strange creatures moving on four legs and battling with each other. We saw inhabitants of the bottom layers of atmosphere – when we attempted to name them, a psycho-word "bird" had flashed in our consciousnesses. We saw how some of the creatures have finally changed their way of movement from four to two legs. We observed, how these beings then united in groups, how they battled with those who were still moving on four, how they defeated and ate them, how perished from them...

Images floated, formed and were imprinted on the edges of our consciousnesses, replaced one another as in a kaleidoscope.

We saw how biped ones began to use biological life surrounding them for the invention of tools – a wood, then metal, how their separate groups, being formed in different parts of a planet, gradually extended, how they expanded the biological area of existence, how used created tools against the four-footed – animals? – and how they used these weapons against each other. We observed, how parts of these groups changed, how stronger and more accurate psycho-field was formed around their representatives, how these representatives started to supervise over others and gained the ability to read a small share of the information of a time continuum.

Their groups grew and extended – have then started to form ci... ci... cities. We saw, how these groups became more and more independent from animals, and some of them even began to use animals for improvement of their own life, how cities grew and how psycho-fields of these beings worked, vibrating in a resonance with an informational continuum and new and inventions came to life, how wars were started, how alliances were made, how one civilization replaced another.

And then the race of images became truly unimaginable.

...Cities grew and disappeared, houses rose and fell, the new areas called "states" were born and absorbed, bipedal creatures soon filled all space of a planet suitable enough for life. And then a sharp flash in consciousness – a field's push – and biped beings kill each other in earlier unprecedented scales. New push – it seems, that the very field of the planet groans – and new, new, endless wars take place.

...Creatures fill all new areas and start to destroy other organic life in places of their dwelling. The planet's field groans and fluctuates, reflecting with pain flashes in our consciousnesses.

...New flash – and the sky is filled with iron artificial birds. New pushes of a psycho-field of a planet – and new wars and new pain occurs.

...Bright beautiful flashes of consciousnesses – and elementary space vessels try to overcome planet's gravitational field. Now they escape the forces of gravity – and travel to planet's orbit.

...New and new modifications of them are being created, and the orbit is being filled with them. Now, these spaceships land on the planet's satellite. Now they start traveling to other planets of this star system...

...And wars come again, and the biosphere of the planet is being destroyed and psycho-field of their world is being deformed yet again.

...We see how experiments will structural material of cells of living organisms are being performed. We desire to shout "Stop it!" for we already know the interstellar civilizations which have destroyed themselves during similar experiments – but we cannot, what we can do is just to observe. To observe, how biological organisms of a planet – animals – are being deformed. To observe how their bodies – since very birth transformed beyond recognition – gradually lose reason rudiments in a course of new experiments, how their biofields are being deformed – as though are curved inside – and a death sign, already familiar to us, is distinctly shown.

"Stop at last!" we urge to shout... and we cannot.

We can only observe how the increasing technological development leads this planetary civilization to natural parasitism on the scale of its biosphere. We observe, how bailout atmospheric layers of gases are being destroyed... how a share of radiation of a star of their system, touching the planet, gradually increases... how, as if being proud of their inventions, they build a sort of protective domes around areas of their dwelling, how their geneticists create some sort of virus, capable, as they say, it, to change their fabric and to rescue them from disastrous radiation of a star on infection... how mass infection gives unexpected side-effects... how the appearance of these beings changes and how their psycho-fields are changed in a similar manner, being curved inside with already so familiar death sign.

And the strongest vibrations of an informational field of a planet come again – as though it tries to spit out this information, this knowledge of former events forever. And yet again as though something stomps our fields, which have almost merged with planet's field now. And once again – pictures and images, replacing each other...

...Mutated beings begin to perish from the impact of atmospheric gases and star radiation. As if having gone mad, they try to use own psycho-fields, discovered by their scientists, for the destruction of their own kin – and then the small group of beings, almost not afflicted, makes the decision on the further change of their kind and its adaptation for life in the water environment. We observe, how massive generators are being created, designed to change the structure of planet's gases and cause thawing of glaciers to create an eternal world of water. We observe, how these generators are put into action...

It's late. It's too late. Genetic modification of their kin for the adaptation to an ocean's life becomes impossible. The infected half-mad beings destroy this supervising elite to plunge themselves into the ocean – now forever.

...Now masses of these beings march into the newborn oceans – in ranks, as if still not understanding, that they come to face certain death, as though called by someone – and disappear in its waves. Disappear once and forever.

Forever...

And then star radiation finishes the rest.

***

Pain, pain, pain. Waves of pain, our consciousness is being stomped and crashed... A sharp push – and the planet's field throws us out from itself, those unexpected newcomers who have woken it. And then the images instantly fade off.

Now I am still standing on this small islet among a boundless ocean of a planet together with my father, still not able to come to my senses after what I have seen. The father, however, comes to his senses earlier than me.

"And that is how their history has ended. Now we have learned everything that wanted about this world. We will deliver this information to the Intergalactic Council. But now it's time for us to leave – the field became unstable after our intrusion."

"But... but why... what for? Why... why they have chosen such a way... what for... Why have they destroyed planetary life along with their own? Why... why not psychosynthesis, why not searches in themselves, why only outside... why fine-tuning of the world for their and only their needs?"

"Too many questions, son, and not enough answers."

The father has looked to me in eyes – and a vibration of his thought, strong and accurate, has touched me.

"They simply... they simply uttered "no" to their homeworld. Let's go now. There is no place for us in the dead worlds."

05.09.2005

## Weapons of our age

Highly respected weapon-bearers, weapon-forgers, weapon-lovers, and weapon-users! Today we bring to your attention the unique classification of medieval weapons, found in the depths of Egyptian pyramids, from, so to speak, the spiritually focused point of view on that two-edged and quite striking subject. Advancing your question we wish to note, that in fact we do not have even the slightest concept of how in the above-mentioned Egyptian pyramids artifacts from so-called Middle Ages were discovered, however in connection with unique time perturbations, observed by our philologists, scientists, and simple readers, we cannot exclude some non-zero possibility of the mentioned events, for due to a number of already occurred locally-time anomalies which we all have witnessed, your individualities included, we have no more right to be surprised even by such a helix-looking turns of events. We also wish to point out, that those records, found by us, carry out is some unmeasured amount a deliberately-veiled and mystical character, and the task of solving a true nature of messages of ancient centuries is still to be accomplished by our psychologists, linguists, and by simple all those who has been bothered by idle and stupid sitting in front of a TV, killing own life in vain during, at least, his days off. Preventing that next untimely question of yours born from not less untimely thoughts of yours, we utter: well, that was simply our whip to name this classification list of medieval weapons with a word "our" in the center – and that's all to it! As ancient ones used to speak – do not search for a hare in conjurer's hat before that magician shows himself up – and here we go, untimely quoting them once again. So, the below mentioned list of medieval weapons of "our" century follows.

1. Hammer of Half-Truth and Lie

Most favored weapon of politicians and mass media, who have sold themselves to aforementioned politicians for a time being along with their brains and organs for blood dispersal in their bodies. With due skill and duration of swing can break heads of those untimely got under its brain-smashing and brain-washing strikes, crush accessories of their habitual world-outlook picture and even flatten out so that after the mentioned procedure they will start to feel themselves like a limpet, sticking to unclear places for unclear purposes. However, due to enormous weight and the requirement of long "promotion" of this tool for bashing human minds, this weapon has low accuracy and slow speed of blows, and more skillful warrior, armed with, say, "Rapier Of Reason", is able to outmaneuver and bring his opponent to his knees with a series precise strikes in proper spots.

2. Sickle of Death

From ancient times this weapon was, first in foremost, painted on pictures in the hands of the avatar, representing the death of the human body. Similar pictures almost always made a predefined and expected influence on spectator of bewitching and stunning nature, for, most probably, only the total fools or totally enlightened ones have no fear of death. After all, one must remember how our not less mystical classic spoke, that it's not that man is mortal that is terrible, but rather that he's suddenly (and we'll add – almost totally and irrevocably at times) mortal.

And because nobody knows for sure the date of his own parting with this world (and, generally speaking, this date varies depending on the actions of the individual in question), this weapon in the hands of death has been traditionally inspiring appropriate fear in trembling in the hearts of men. Let's note, however, that due to observable time fluctuations, aforementioned in the introduction, a question of extremely intriguing nature arises among a set of researches of this phenomenon, of whether the death of a physical body is final and the potential revival of Souls in new physical bodies is possible, however, a detailed research of this question lies beyond the bounds on current classification. Traditionally, besides being carried by avatars of death, this weapon can often be found in possession of agricultural workers, more commonly known under the collective term "peasants".

3. Ax of Anger

A plain weapon of human crowds, quite untimely used by them from time to time, which has led to yet another bloody revolution, oh comrades! Doesn't require the owner to possess any serious skills to be applied, yet is capable to inflict lots of harm for both considerably right and considerably left ones, being swung from right to left (or vice versa). History knows the cases when men, driven to despair undertook these very axes and in the fury of anger on all mankind chopped their offenders into nothing for nothing. Actually, even literary heroes resorted at times to the "services" of this tool, being in an inadequate psychological condition. So, take care not to give right away this tool of anger to mad crowds if you have no desire to receive a "Boomerang Of Destiny" in return. You have been warned.

4. Dagger of Treachery

A weapon, known since most ancient times, which has been traditionally stabbed into backs of other warriors by traitors. As an alternative measure, the act of rascally cutting an innocent victim's throat by stalking from behind can be taken into account. The third most widespread way of usage of this small, yet one of the craftiest and vindictive toolkit, is the attempt to perform the irreversible act of suicide – which can undoubtedly be considered as the greatest act of treachery of a man in relation himself and own further fate. In ancient times a widespread form of preliminary preparation of given weapon to a further act of treachery and murder was the process of coating a dagger with various poisons (traitors and killers of the past most likely truly enjoyed the view of the slowly agonizing victim). To cut a long story short, this is exactly the weapon of cold-blooded killers, traitors, and geeks, and all Ludoviks of the past are not an exception by all means. So, beware!

5. Poleaxe of Cruelty

In no way less deadly and destructive than "Hammer Of Half-Truth And Lie" weapon, capable to sever both hopes of disagreed ones and the thread of life of his wielder along with similar ones of his relatives, into a one and one thousand of pieces. Due to weapon's design specifics, the highest degree of professionalism in its forging and battling was achieved for centuries by mountain dwarves of the spirit of conscience. From one generation to the next among people of this race of so-to-be-humans ancient recipes and secrets are being transferred of how to forge the ultimate killing edges, richest sheath, strongest and dumbest handles, and so on.

Hordes of these dwarves, smeared in a coal of underground mines, smoked in fumes of own steelmaking fiery forges, armed with these poleaxes, represent a truly frightening show, partly resembling a plague spread of the past, for after their next invasion nothing either moving or badly lying is left in the vicinities of nearest N miles, starting with a horse of some gone on a spree bard, minor daughter of local barman, or a purse with thirty silver coins of a local trader, who have grown fat too immoderately from the excessing use of beer. And even if mentioned minor daughter can still hope for a sweet (for her new slaveholder) life, yet her father-barman, merchant, and minstrel all together could only dream of the upcoming slaving fate.

Most severe and thrifty members of dwarves new slavish army, possessing "Daggers Of Treachery", have a chance in the near future, being regularly drawn by duty into the ranks of their new owners, ascend to a rank of robbers and, thus, finally and completely assimilate with their former aggressors. Cruelty and ruthlessness of the race, owning described weapons of murder have entered into legends at a dawn of its origin, therefore that race was once named as a "yoke". And it's not we who should tell you sad is the fate of those, willingly living under its feet and tribute.

6. Rapier of Reason

Unimaginable, unpredictable, stunning and soul-piercing weapon! Demands from its wielder a masterful skill and tremendous accuracy of attacks-strikes (unlike frankly barbarous tools like "Hammer Of Half-Truth And Lie", "Poleaxe Of Cruelty", "Mace Of Fanatical Faith"), however, surpasses them all taken together in own efficiency. Given weapon is specifically designed for single fights-duels one-to-one, instead of wall-to-wall as it happens in cases of usage of "Axe Of Anger". The technics of mastering of similar weapon is uneasy enough as it demands a high degree of inner calmness, tranquility and attentiveness simultaneously, which allow not only to easily evade enemy incoming blows but to determine the best and fastest way spots of possible reciprocal strikes. At due level of reason literally with one-two series of attacks and pricks of heart and conscience it's possible to completely transform your rival to a friend and faithful companion – and, because it's possible to consider as totally reasonable only enlightened/clarified persons, the process of transformation occurs from a smaller level of consciousness from darkness of ignorance to higher level of the light of divine reason. The history of our society knows literally several dozens of duelists who have mastered enough skill with "Rapier Of Reason", sufficient for the awakening of unreasonable men.

7. Mace of Fanatical Faith

A favorite tool of inquisitors of the past and present. By efficiency of crushing of heads and minds of enemies can only be compared to a "Hammer Of Half-Truth And Lie", however due to a spike-form structure of the iron ritual sphere crowning this creation, the weapon is capable to make in addition chipped and bleeding wounds in the form of unreasonable sense of guilt, own otioseness and sinfulness, which during the process of loss by the wounded one of his blood and juices of life, can lead him into a state of permanent depression and despondency. Probably, because of the last mentioned feature of given tool, it's being so beloved by those inquisitors of unbelief, considering themselves believing instead.

Probably, they are somewhat right and truly believe – for example as if the ritual fools will enter the Kingdom of God the first and foremost ones, or, say, that it's possible to cease being blood-thirsty by washing yourself in tubs filled with gold coins, or, perhaps, that the number of built by them "houses of God" will once transform itself into quality, and the God, who's capable to lay an end to their business on Him, whom they in the heart of the souls of theirs do not desire to meet at all, will visit even a single one these buildings... and, perhaps, in that fanatical disbelief of theirs they would even be pardonable, if, certainly, not for the number of killed by their maces, broken off on racks, hung up on the gallows, burned alive on fires, crucified before dark on crosses, and all others who were forcedly had to leave this world because of these fanatics of unbelief.

If you don't possess a sufficient skill of handling of "Rapier Of Reason", "Katana Of Honor" or "Sword Of Word", we would not recommend you to enter a duel with these rivals as they, first of all, dislike it very much to fight one-to-one, preferring instead those combat styles as "crucifixion by a crowd of fanatics of one awakened one", "beating of a sinner by stones", "theological demagogy", and, secondly, will be ready with sincere pleasure and due to their immense philanthropy and mercy to anathematize you, and in some cases even to simple hammer you with their mace to a death, having as such relieved you of the burdens of this immoderately, in their own opinion, nasty life.

8. Sword of Word

Indestructible blade, forged in a fire of inspiration and under the heavy rain of abuses. Eternal, like the Universe itself. Sharp as the spirit of a warrior, wearing it. Faithful, like the its devoted to his word owner. The most widespread among all available types of weapons. Beloved by great warriors of word of the past and the present as such as birds love their wings allowing them to fly. The light of heavenly stars can be reflected through pure blades and the light of sun can be mirrored by hares of happiness.

The warrior himself bears the right to choose the words who are either perfecting his edge or rebating it. Warrior himself choose and master favorite strikes and tactics of defense. The warrior of word knows how invaluable his word is during the time of trials for human Souls. With each strike of the word he puts a part of his Soul into it – and if it's pure enough, the light of the sky flashes during those instants of striking, lighting up and splitting apart the darkness of human ignorance.

The master of the word can awake Souls and revive them, illuminating by the light of hope and love, resurrecting them for a new outlook. Several years are required to master the technics of strikes. Even a hundred of lives will not be enough to perfect the skill of striking the darkness by the light of the stars.

9. Boomerang of Destiny

Extremely exotic type of weapons, possessing a number of badly documented side effects. Is characterized by the highest indicators of air traveling speed and maneuverability. Doesn't demand a long time for a swing and is often used under the condition of direct visibility of the opponent.

The skill of work with this type of weapon is if it's even possible to tell so, congenital, – possibly for that particular reason the majority of novice fighters prefer this along with a "Dart Of Abuse" type of arms.

Striking ability varies considerably depending on the type of enemy's armor – those unprotected by a chain mail of joy and good nature (and, especially those who are wearing black robes of rage and hatred) this weapon can strike almost mortally, ones dressed in mentioned chain armors in rare cases to slightly wound, and for those dressed in heavy plate armor of love and blessings is unable to cause any harm, being repelled back from iron armored plates.

Additional surprising and little-explored phenomenon which often remains unknown to novices, is a so-called "returning back to the owner" effect, or "requitals on affairs" – after a certain, not computable in advance time span, thrown boomerang, no matter whether it has reached its target or not, flies back to its owner, thus striking him back with a blow of considerably bigger force, rather than those made to a potential victim. If mentioned boomerang was thrown into the enemy with a significant force of rage and hatred, then the retaliation strike can become deadly. Only those warriors who are capable of introspection and repentance are capable to intercept a coming-back boomerang from its retaliation strike.

10. Dart of Abuse

Extremely compact type of throwing arms, not demanding extensive training for mastering of the art of firing on other relatives and far people (victims?). Each and every sleeping one at least once in his life used this type of weapons in various life experiences, which were provoking inside him a manifestation of such traits like anger, irritation, contempt, hatred, envy, and others. The degree of wounding ability depends on such factors as skill and duration of throwing trainings, current state of mind at the moment of a throw, sensual material of a dart, type of energetic nozzle (poison of offense, bitterness of contempt, smoke of hatred, gloating at grief, etc. – the choice of nozzles varies deeply, and spiritually blind and dead warriors will confirm that with a joy), as well as experience of former relations of fighters among themselves.

Practice demonstrates, that the smallest wounding ability possess those darts of two loving (?) each other people, for example, the husband and his wife ("the falling out of lovers is the renewal of love"), and one of the greatest – darts of political and religious opponents (probably for that very reason mankind waged all wars either on political or religious motives). The practice of imaginary dart-throwing of employees into their boss, whose avatar they often hand up on walls in their offices in place of target) is considered to have the greatest popularity. The greatest speed of dart-throwing at the lowered accuracy rate can be achieved by persons of deviant behavior and self-declined-offended-sad way of life (bums, prostitutes, addicts, prisoners, etc.).

11. Katana of Honor

Weapon of ancient samurai warriors (well, and how does it correlate at all with the Middle Ages, hug?), who became world-famous thanks to codes of fighters, strictly observed by them, and following principles of honor and duty.

And, if the readiness to offer the life to fight with opponents of his mister can be still somehow understood, but the desire to stuck into yourself a sword the most effective way, having to let out the first (it's also the last) portion of guts in the process of not less popular "hara-kiri" is somehow much more inconveniently for interpretation of incentive motives.

Due to exotic nature of form, materials, and bends of the blade, this weapon demands of the sustainable amount of training and highest extent of concentration and attention, for, after all, not only the honor, but the life of samurai itself often depended on their combination. Generally speaking, the fighter who has lost his weapon was considered to be deprived of a honor as well (female Samurais were a big rarity), and the one who has lost honor due to different reason was somehow not inclined to take the blade in his hands anymore.

Well, as the fans of known to us hara-kiri, who have already achieved success by that time and have safely put out their guts outside for the world to see, used to speak, – "protect one's stomach and honor from the very youth".

12. Halberd of Resistance

Power of action is equal to the power of counteraction? That Newton of yours must surely have lied to you, you more probably you have not got his true ideas truly. This weapon is the best proof that the power of counteraction to the evil is defined by degree on internal goodwill and love of the counteracting one, and in no way by his external physical force. Generally speaking, this weapon was initially intended to be used by defenders of weak and kind of this world from strong and malicious of this world, because till now they have been coexisting in this world in a very peculiar mixture – however further is has been acquired by so-called "guards", not so always pure of hands, foot and consciousness, and since these old times the skill of forging of copies of weapons of this type has almost been lost.

Possessing a long staff of justice and extremely sharped tip of the truth, this weapon in skillful and just hands can counteract very effectively raids of every possible criminals of honor and conscience, making deep and bleeding cut wounds, capable from caused by them plentiful bleeding to rather fast lost by the attacking one of all his force, aggressiveness, impudence and insistence, making him an easy prey for capture and further forwarding on a court just and fast (and sometimes even sudden). To cut a long story short, it's possible to tell with confidence: this weapon is almost an ideal option of resisting the evil with non-violence because the violence is just one of the sides of evil. We have only to discover again and make public those ancient recipes of forging, still transferred among few masters from one generation to the next.

13. Spear of Idea

The most ancient of weapons, possessed by our not-so-smart and not-so-far (though judging passed time interval – just far instead) ancestors. Copies greatly vary on the confessional look and the length of a staff, as well as by a form and sharpness of tips. It may seem strange, but the majority of copies, used by our contemporaries, to tell so, no so strongly vary by design and sharpness of tips from those Neanderthal prototypes left – and despite that fact, their successor not without a feeling of own pride dare to call themselves as Homo Sapiens.

And if earlier spears were used exclusively for beating off to the death of innocent wild animals in nature, now spears of ideas are used to over-throw with them any heavily armed, yet more sluggish opponents on a close combat.

A special sort of popularity, based on our supervision, is gained by those spears with jagged tip which are being made on a basis of ideas, propagandized by politicians, churchmen, officials and scientists-materialists – spears of ideas, thrown by them, are able in this regard to leave lacerations in souls of wounded, bleeding by feeling of permissiveness and pseudo-patriotism, own congenital sinfulness and inferiority (sinning on the left and right priests, who are "promoting" these feelings in others appeared to be completely lacking this weapon along with conscience), absence of visible meaning of life and joy, daily melancholy and boredom and some others.

Let's also note that no ideally balanced copies which would suit each man have been yet forged, unlike the great number of masterfully made clones of the last centuries, which modern armorers have been unsuccessfully trying to forge on the mass media plants.

14. Bow of Amur

Mystical weapon, according to legends possessed by beings infecting (hurting, inspiring?) human beings with a feeling of love. By tradition, such beings are called cupids – and that's not a surprise, because France in XIII-XVIth centuries was sort of an example and light beacon of Middle Age epoch.

If we are to trust the anatomic researches of contemporaries, cupids resemble small angelic children with white wings, playful smile, and cheerful nature. The process of transformation of small children into angelic cupids is still not thoroughly studied, however, there are assumptions that exactly the opposite transformation sometimes takes place during the education of cupids in rough and silly human families. By their very nature cupids are very playful, peaceful and even slightly prankish, they adore to peep at potential lovers and at times very skillfully use bows with arrows of sympathy and love, granted to them from the very birth.

It's necessary to notice that arrows of cupids not only do not cause any harm to the wounded souls but instead fill them with inspiration, the joy of life and happiness about which many of them so often forget in a vain and unnecessary crush of the route of lives. Evil tongues say that all this occurs because tips of their arrows are covered with special love poison, bringing anesthetizing effect at the moment of the wound, however, as soon as its action comes to an end ... Generally, those trusting evil tongues, as a rule, don't even receiver the slightest portion of attention from cupids. And considering those who don't mind being wounded and revived – they can be noticed by cupids often in the least expected moment. Possessing a sufficient sharpness of an eye and accuracy of their small palms, cupids tend to nevertheless miss sometimes and wound those people, who, apparently, shouldn't be. But, on the other arrow, the ways of cupids are truly inscrutable, right?

15. Staff of Wisdom

Simple and plain in appearance weapon, not inspiring any considerable awe into the hearts of uninitiated (unlike the same effects of "Hammer Of Half-Truth And Lie" or "Axe Of Anger"), but potentially possessing great mystical properties. Traditionally and deservedly it was considered as an attribute of grown wise men (we ask you not to confuse these ones with those grown experienced, for not every experience leads to the growth of wisdom), helping them move through life, leaning on it from time to time.

It's hard to call the one carrying the staff of wisdom as a warrior in full sense of the word, because, as we all know, the true warrior wins a fight without battle, and wisdom of its bearers allows them to evade from useless verbal and ideological fights, however blows of the master of staff are as a rule bring a solid stunning effect, for rather often they strike either sinciput, eyebrow on an eye of the opponent.

Masters of this weapon during the process of transformation of own soul, often called as enlightenment, are able to give their weapon true magical powers –  thunder or repentance, lightning of understanding, fireball of inspiration – making it as of such one of the most terrible arms, causing panic and havoc in ranks of whole armies of their sleeping through their lives opponents.

16. A horseshoe of Good Luck

And how did it manage to come through? Well, all right, let it be the. Those are the Middle Age, after all...

07.06.2011

## Warning: God!

"Warning: God! Entrance is strictly prohibited for idle passers!" Ivan read a sign on the ordinary-looking gate, leading through a fencing to the inconspicuous looking building. And there was a small addition slightly below: "The Entrance. Accept the hope, entering one!"

"Oh, what only they won't make," he thought at first. "Trying to lure us this and that way. Oh, sure, we have heard plenty of these fairy tales of yours in due time, about the New World, End of the Millennia, the Second Coming, everything at once. And predictors all unanimously chattered, "The world is changing, something is happening!" and everything like that, and where is all that? We cannot see it yet. And maybe it doesn't even exist if we cannot see it? Or maybe it does exist, but we still cannot see it? Who knows it for sure..."

Ivan began hesitating – to enter or not to enter?

Nobody cries aloud any calls, no one stands with banners and posters on corners. Somehow strange, unusual. Not a single sign of what is called promotion, no sort of marketing in that disgusting style: "The Savior! Only with us! Only for you!". Just some ordinary-looking gate... Who even enters such ones, it doesn't even look like a door. Somehow wrong, not common style. But, on the other hand... who did say that God must correspond to some man's idea about him?

Oh.

Ivan was starting to feel himself more out of place – not mainly due to his current reflections, but from some arisen during this moment aching and disturbing feeling somewhere in the depth of his breast, that if now he will pass this gate by, like he has been passing for all these years, hurrying somewhere in unknown distances on strangest affairs – he may not be able to find in the future this most ordinary-looking gate...

And, after all, he was looking... he has been searching for Him for a long time. Since the very birth, if it's possible to say so, he has been looking. In autumn silence of parks and conversations soul-to-a-soul with others, in the noise of human crowds and rich furniture of churches, in endless loneliness of own soul, he has been searching for Him. He thirsted to once find Him so greatly, but all this was something not totally so, not totally right... He has been seeking Him for all his conscious life! And now... some sort of gate...

Finally, he decided. Pushed a gate with his hand, expecting to hear a scratch of ungreased loops, but instead of it shutters softly and silently swung open, he made a step forward – and...

The world changed. Suddenly the city disappeared somewhere, as well as hurrying on affairs from work and for work thousands of sleepy people together with one thousand and one building, even the gate was no more. Now he was standing in the middle of some large hall with carved shining columns and ceiling, rising into infinite distances up and up and some sort of warm light surrounded him from everywhere.

"Have I already died?" Ivan was suddenly frightened. "My heart stopped pulsating and now my useless body is most probably lying on some dirty operational table, and a group of laymen in white dressing gowns is working on it while I am standing idle in this unknown new world?"

"Greetings, Ivan! I have been waiting for you!" some immensely powerful, filled with greatest inner force and at the same time very melodious voice suddenly filled the area, coming, apparently, from all directions and at the same time somewhere from Ivan's breast.

"I... just... just... don't know... what to answer..." Ivan mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," answered the Voice. "I can read minds. I have been watching you from your very birth... as well as many others. You desired to find me – and so now you are here. What is that you want to tell me?"

"So, are you really the Most Powerful One?"

"Yes," the Voice answered softly. "The First And The Last. The Beginning And The Ending. I am the One whom you call the Maker."

"So, you are really..." and Ivan stopped short. "Well, certainly! How could I forget about it!"

"Yes," the Voice answered. "I truly exist. But many of your kind have forgotten and ceased to search for Me."

"To search where?" Ivan asked shy.

"Inside and outside. I am inside and outside. All these worlds are mine, and parts of me are living inside you. I have once given you particles of myself so that one day you can become similar to me..."

"So that people become similar to God?"

"Such is the true evolution, Ivan."

"So, you are together with all of us..."

"Yes, always I am. Now in your world as well. I have many homes," invisible Voice was filling the room with matchless melodies and colors.

"In our world too? So, it means that the gate..."

"All your world is mine. I can settle in any corner of it. I have no need for your empty praising. I desire to see all of you live, Ivan, with living particles of me."

"That's why Your arrival was..." the sudden guess enlightened Ivan's heart.

"Yes," the Voice answered. "For this reason. I desire to see ones searching and coming to me in their free will. They are capable of the true evolution."

"So all these people in temples and mosques, calling themselves believers and at the same time remaining the same from the very birth..."

"They can continue to believe in their illusions if such is their wish. For some time."

"And what of your Son? He was speaking of You and Your return in the due time..."

"He is together with Me as well. My second Son," answered the Voice. "You dared to offend him too much in the last time. This will not repeat anymore."

"Oh, how wonderful it is that You are together with us!" a sudden shout of joy escaped Ivan's breast.

"The looking one will find. The going one will come. Accept the hope – and give it to others! My time is coming!" the invisible Voice filled the entire enormous brightly shining room, and traveled, apparently, into the very core of the human soul.

"Yes, oh my Maker! I will tell them of You! I thank you!"

The shining stream of light captured and shrouded Ivan. It, this Light of God, was coming, apparently, from everywhere – was shining from inside and outside. The sparkling stream shrouded him in a flash of time – and...

"Savior! Only with us! Only for you!" Ivan confusedly read red shining letters on a sign of some striptease club.

The gate was no more. The chance was accepted. Another world greedy stretched own hands towards him once again.

"Yes, oh Maker, I will tell all these sleeping ones of your time," Ivan decided. "Right now there is nothing more important than that."

22.10.2010

## Denying self-portrait

I am not passive – I simply chose my goals carefully.

I am not a zealot – I believe in the victory of human reason.

I am not romanticist – I simply love life.

I am not a meek creature – it's just useless to shout in a room alone.

I am not lonely – I am simply not part of the crowd.

I am not a liar – I simply do not tell all the truth.

I am not reserved – I am simply not egocentric.

I am not rigid – there are simply times when one needs to be strong.

I am not defenseless – there are simply times when it's required to pretend to be weak.

I am not silly – sometimes it's simply necessary to deny common reason.

I am not uneasy – life simply demands movement.

I am not gloomy – I happen to be similarly "normal" sometimes.

I am not shy – my spirit simply soars too high sometimes.

I am not egoist – it's simply necessary to think about myself sometimes.

I am not a pessimist – sometimes I simply forget to be happy.

I am not a slave – it's simply necessary sometimes to work for others.

I am not an enemy – people simply desire to go for war from time to time.

I am not silent – I simply carefully select words.

I am not cynic – sometimes I simply call things by their proper names.

I am not insensible – sometimes it's simply necessary to be closed from idly curious.

I am not mad – I simply do not always meet other's expectations.

I am not indifferent – not all tears are simply true.

I am not helpless – it's simply pleasantly to go down the stream sometimes.

I am not bored – someone simply does not understand from the first time sometimes.

I am not haughty – simply not everyone is capable to understand my language.

I am not a warrior – it's simply necessary to battle sometimes.

I am not a hero – the times simply demand so.

29.06.2008

## Performance

Greetings, well-respected soul-thinking readers and page-swingers.  Recently a set of letters has been coming to the editorial office of our newspaper with a request of repeated publication of presented several months ago article that goes under the header "Performance". Due to the importance of the mentioned subject and high level of urgency of this article to our society, we decided to comply with this kind request of our paper-consumers. We hope greatly that the feeling of kind irony won't abandon our readers (as well as the persons, mentioned in the article) in the process of reading of this note, once again being published by us.

"Petersburg Movable Bridge" publishing house

One of these days in Moscow in the Cathedral of the Redeemer both surprising and tragic at the same time events took their place. A group of unknown males, dressed in caftans, padded jackets, felt boots and caps with ear-flaps, despite obvious discrepancy of similar regimentals to the current weather conditions, without any given permission or payment of tax for entrance to sacred orthodox temples, having pushed local old prior of the temple in a most shameless way, broke into the most sacred place of our not rubber capital – to temple's altar.

As it should be well-known to our respected readers, this altar was officially declared as sacred literally a few days ago before the events in place when the Holy Patriarch of All Russia performed in the presence of the president of our country before it the anthem "God bless the Tzar!". After which specified group of unstated persons without any proper constraint and with a great enthusiasm sang a song "Oh, frost, my frost!". Let's note that according to the data of meteorologists, air temperature outside of the building was about thirty degrees above zero at the moment of their performance.

At present time identikits of the criminals are being prepared and designed by law-burying enforcement bodies, however, all such actions are at a loss due to a great resemblance between produced images and ugly faces of average tipsy Russian men exactly on New Year' Eve. However, if only it all was limited to a singing of similar obscene songs, for truly believing citizens of our country it would be still half-troubles. The real trouble is that criminals not only sang unstated by the law frankly blasphemous song, they also dared to laugh in the most impudent, shameless and frankly freeway!

As it should be well-known to our dear readers, in connection with the official resolution of the Patriarch it was strictly forbidden to either smile or to laugh for all truly – and more importantly for devoutly – believing orthodox Christians, and upon entering the temple they should, we quote, "to have a face mournful and oppressed, head down lowered, eyes inexpressive, lips with teeth snacked and money in pockets lots of", and violation of this behavior was officially equated to blasphemy which, in connection with recently introduced in the Criminal Code amendments, was equated to especially serious crimes against consciencemenfaithhonor (in one word from a small letter) and Sacred Orthodox Church (in several words from a capital letter).

The scandal which has burst in connection with incident continues to grow. Practicing psychiatrists, self-educated linguists and political scientists have already started speaking about the process of serious dividing of society on a taste and color basis.

A number of cultural figures already expressed their support to newbie singers in their collective letter, having thus received a brand of figures-of-the-lack-of-culture from a number of political parties of nationalist nature. "We are driven only by compassion and love to representatives of our people, and thus we freely accept their right to put on padded jackets and felt boots, as well as to sing the unpopular song. Jesus told us of love and amnesty – including to those who dress not like we do, sings different songs and feels the world another way. People without love are no more than bags with bones," like that commented on the situation one of the unnamed signers of the letter. The signer, however, didn't specify, whether all signers are being driven by similar motives or the most honest of their kind.

However, there is not a single sign of complete unanimity concerning the event among representatives of culture and art. So, a number of singers already managed to condemn anonymous choristers and spat tastefully in their direction.

"I am no Christ and will not forgive all and everything!!! They must all have gone nuts!!! A shame if they would sing my song, ignoramuses. Put them all on a stake and burn!!!" like that raged the queen of Russian chanson in her personal blog.

The prima donna of the Russian platform was more careful in her expression: "Dull yokels simply decided to promote themselves! They are probably thinking of taking over my place. No way! I have kicked with feet down from my platform even better ones. And to smile and laugh is a top of cynicism during our hard times. A fiddle while Rome burns. They better dig a ditch in front of our castle instead of doing nonsense. All of them are simply lousy clownery!"

Her old acquaintance expressed himself slightly more categorically: "I dunno want to be interrogated about these devilish bitches! I am irritated by their pink jackets, their boobs, and your microphone!". On a fair remark that performers of a song were males, the singer confusedly replied that he was probably confused by some demon, and hastened to retire from under the gazes of television cameras.

"I have been always telling you that Russian is a genetic rabble and cattle! They dream only of getting drunk and sing something pathos. Stupid ones, to be short, – not the way I am! No way for mink revolutions together with such morons!" well-known TV soul-killer expressed herself exactly that way.

Don't lag behind the Russian colleagues are foreign singers, whom, most likely, similar "performance" cut to the quick. So, Madonna of the American platform was persistently interested, whether are those singers accused of all mortal sins are representatives of LGBT community, and was extremely disappointed by the answer that they are normal Russian men, and "not like the ones in these solar Californias of yours," and short time after together with the mayor of Berlin she made the official statement, that, we quote, "unfortunately, Russian social public haven't yet grown to high standards of the western democracy and doesn't possess required level of tolerance."

Truly believing Christians, marking their presence here and there in comments to articles, concerning anonymous group, also continuing throwing chestnuts in a fire.

"I, as the Russian Orthodox Christian, consider that these obscurantists should be cut by whips with iron thorns on the central square. And it must be done in the face of their children so that they learn to live correctly! After all, truly believing Christians will fairly hammer them to the death at a first opportunity nevertheless! And that's right! Let everyone know the power of true belief! For the Patriarch and Russian Orthodox Church!" writes one of them.

Representatives of political parties keep adding fuel to the fire as well.

So, with a rigid criticism of anonymous group acted representatives of nationalist parties "New Great Stalin" and "Stalin is everything ours". "This is a spit in the soul, in the belief of our people. It's a blasting of foundations of our statehood. These are intrigues of our Anglo-Saxon foes. Their future fate must be decided by our most fair and humane court, and no cultural figures have the right to interfere with that process," so the leader of the first party commented on the situation. "They all should get a second Stalin!" declared the leader of the second one.

The leader of Communist party declared literally the following: "We understand the degree of gravity of the question, brought to us in the song, for exactly in winter time the well-known February revolution was carried out, and exactly April theses were created by our eternally live leader. But at the same time, we consider such behavior of these men inadmissible for the party due to ethical reasons. Look at our leader – there is no smile on his face. He sleeps peacefully, awaiting the coming of great future events, disturbs nobody and isn't being an eyesore for people at all, and at the same time quietly and silently welcomes and accepts everyone coming to him. We consider the similar behavior of our leader to be a fine example for both our party and all our supporters as well."

The well-known leader of other party expressed on considerably more increased in decibels tones: "Swine! Bastards! Nits! Let's they eat shit! Bears in our circuses behave better than they do! A shame for the whole world! Unfinished morons! I would tear them out, like my donkey! Bastards!"

Representatives of the party "Wrong deed" declared that at the present moment similar questions interest them "not so much", as they still can't decide a question of who will be their new leader after they expelled the old (young) oligarch in all four directions during last inner-party intrigues.

Representatives of the ruling party refused to comment on the situation.

The search for malefactors is still going on.

Society is divided. Politicians battle with each other. Militant Christians demand bread and shows. Network hamsters keep buying popcorn. Cultural figures shamelessly find fault with all and everything, fighting for a proper place under a golden calf. As they say, everything is quite in the Moscow-city...

29.09.2012

## Plan 2020

Fragment 1

Sensation! Sensation! Truth? Or provocation? Ones, who meaning learn and give – those, who Plan's will outlive.

"Mihylach, ye stupid berk! Who names articles as such, huh?" a note of the editor-in-chief.

As we have learned, unique fragments from speeches of ancient Dalaj-Llamas, entitled precisely "Plan 2020", have recently been acquired by ubiquitous Chinese hackers. By means of extreme efforts and an entire box of very strong drinks, two of our translators managed to transliterate a part of ancient Sanskrit records from Chinese to Russian. Cannot translate it backward, though.

As it's well known for all semi-and-almost enlightened beings, mankind has been promised some wonderful New World for a long time, in which those who haven't died on the way will once be able to come. Terms, unfortunately, were always indistinct and foggy, and that has generated a lot of coffee guessing together with another perversion, but all earlier predicted dates and terms have appeared to be nothing more than past.

As we were told by two of our translators, they managed to overpower the translation of text fragments, speaking about how the geopolitical map of the world will change in (near?) future – or, to be more exact, how some of the countries, known to us, will be called.

And now we present the given fragment to your valuable attention.

Russia → Chinisia ("Heck, does that mean that my children are gonna to be narrow-eyed?" a note of the proofreader).

USA→ DSA, Disjointed States of America ("A fitting destiny!" a note of the proofreader).

Italy → Volcania ("The last day of the old Rome?" a note of the proofreader).

Poland → Treacherland ("I have never trusted them!" note of the proofreader).

Ukraine → Stealin ("Do they have better options?" a note of the proofreader).

Great Britain → Great Disastriant ("Plop-plop-plop?" a note of the proofreader).

Japan → Japorobotia ("Possible, a hint on mythical technological innovations, hmmm?" comment of the proofreader. "More likely on consequences of the mass application of an anime," comment of the translator).

Iraq → Gloom ("No comments," comment of the proofreader).

Israel → Crazyrael ("Remained without trousers without States..." note of the proofreader).

Afghanistan → Poppystan ("Red Alert?" a note of the proofreader).

Note: the given list in partially incomplete for two aforementioned translators have not yet recovered from their own Doomsday after having consumed an above-named quantity of warming up drinks.

Expect more sensations in following releases of our newspaper!

***

Fragment 2

In the last release of our glamorous newspaper, we have told you about that wondrous discovery of ancient texts of the Dalaj-Llamas, having that simple and plain name "Plan 2020", and not even a gram less surprising translation of one of their fragments, performed by our expert linguists in the blissfull-absent state of consciousness. We are glad to inform you that for the purposes of translation of these really untrue manuscripts cognac has appeared to be much more effective than vodka. Strange, surely, but that fact still remains.

Anyway, we now present next portion of ancient Sanskrit records of the Tibetan origin and Earth dislocation, translated from Chinese to Russian (still cannot translate it backward, though) to your keen interest.

In the given fragment the speech is, apparently, goes about modern, last or future views of these very Dalaj-Llamas on some of the nations, living on our sinful Earth. And we present these views to your valuable attention.

"Who'll understand the Russian soul, if there he'll pour vodka's bowl?"

"Imperials, liars, bastards and all... Americans now are awaiting their fall."

"You'll tire waiting for some trick... of Poland, now, my friends, we speak."

"For pennies sprats from them, one gets... for these are Baits, they are the Letts!"

"And the Six Column there lives, they were imperials and thieves, but now they speak the dachshund tongues. Oh yeah, they are Anglo-Saxons."

"Graceful as a cupboard, severe like a colt – it's, brothers, German, not Arnold!"

"They have glamorous pederasts, their maidens don't provoke disgust. Country of creams and of perfumes... they are the Frenchman, dear loons!"

"Their bodies black, and begging stance... but souls are white of Africans!"

"The Jewish essence always hits – they will undress but show no tits."

"The spirit of Theodor's still giving them some bully force – and they play football like the bulls... these are the Spaniards, old fellows!"

"Their sense of humor really suxx... stop laughing, mortal, they are Czechs!"

"Severe in past, they were in strolls... assimilated now Mongols!"

"The country of the tiny sun... it's the island – Japan!"

"Republic Korea still bleating with North, we hope to the war it won't ever go."

"He is yellow-faced, narrow-eyed, with lots of goods he'll you provide, among the youth he's like a wise man... and every fifth Chinese then!"

"They all were drinking the milk of cows and thus spiritually grow – and living life with deprivations, the Hindu's now a spiritual nation!"

Note: as you might have already guessed, given list is incomplete once again, simply because cognac has rightfully appeared to be much more intriguing than vodka on some of the set of post-consuming symptoms. If we happen to find even a more effective mean, we will surely inform you of that discovery.

Expect more sensations in following releases of our newspaper!

"Yours faithfully," comment of the editor-in-chief.

23.01.2010

## Last word

"So do you insist that the feeling of sincere patriotism in relation to the homeland and readiness to destroy its outside enemies maybe not only negative but is also fatal, a harmful trait of the human person?"

"Such a "patriotism" is your curse. These are your chains – threads, through which you are very convenient to be operated by someone another. Because of this distorted "feeling of sincere patriotism" wars have been waged on the Earth and some of them are still going on, for its sake you sacrifice things much more important than the goals of your politicians. It's not even patriotism, it's plain and total blindness. You keep killing others and singing in joy – for it promotes achievements of the aims of your state... Greatest of goals?

Are these truly your purposes? Do you really want to slaughter each other? Maybe those ones, whom you innocently kill, want it to? Whose goals are these – yours or injected into your consciences by the political establishment, injected very skillfully, even sweetened a bit for greater persuasiveness?  You have already faced terrorism in own lives and have come through it. But when you are ready for natural resources to wage terrorism in a much greater scale for "peaceful" purposes, as you are trying to believe, – it's not greater and obvious crime against the humanity? And what is most stunning – is that you do not consider such actions as any crime, but rather as the good of your own country, your nation and you as a part of it.

You have been transformed into puppets in hands of your politicians, you became their ideological slaves. You even cannot say "no" when it's truly needed when the time demands it. That's the problem. You are being sent on a slaughter – and you go on a slaughter. You are being sent into a battle for the next piece of unowned resources – and you are ready to die "for the glory of your motherland". You are not even free, you have never been free. You only dream of it, sing about it, speak among each other about it. And when the time comes for you to say "no", you are saying "yes" instead.

That's the greatest problem of entire mankind history – that the man is too suggestible, too controllable, for he is too weak to be his own master and there are always those who can readily take advantage of it and use it for their own sake. And it will always be so – just until you become the masters of your own life. Remember it, remember that well. Your future depends on it."

***

Spacious apartments. The heavy oak table near a wall sideways from a window. The ancient wall clocks which are beating out their mysterious rhythm. The icon of the Savior in a gilt frame on one of the walls...

"Bom... bom... bom..." the clocks beat slowly and methodically. And once again, "bom... bom... bom..."

"Mister President, we suspect that you should familiarize yourself with these materials. It's important for the stability of our power."

"Demonstrate."

A soft flash – and the video display comes to life. Lines and words, words and discussions, discussions and thoughts. After only fifteen minutes the demonstration of provided "materials" comes to an end. Ten seconds of silence...

"What sort of clown is that? Yet one more fighter for illusionary freedom and all. I'm stuffed up with that nonsense. Remove him."

Five seconds of silence...

"Are you sure, Mister President?"

"Just remove him. And, well, take care of his family, of course. Do not refuse them in indemnification for his "accidental" death. And don't let ones like him into our TV channels, or you can forget about your jobs. That is my last word. Is everything clear? Nice. So – what's the next thing on our today's agenda?"

The heavy oak table near a wall sideways from a window. The icon of the Savior in a gilt frame. The ancient wall clocks, beating out some mysterious rhythm...

"Bom... bom... bom..."

And once again, "bom... bom... bom..."

05.08.2005

## Crime and punishment

I will return to you again, and it shall be very soon. Much sooner than many would like it to happen. I will come to you as unexpectedly as unexpectedly came and has come again he, who is so much greater than I am. He has truly come again.

If you haven't heard even Him – what gives me hope that you will hear all of us, taken and united together, now? And yet I still hope... And yet I am again with you – for the hope does not leave me, that having passed through all hearth of deprivations and sufferings, you will one day smile to the former difficulties of your life and sing praise to the Light.

Ask you, I shall – why have you deformed words of mine with fabrications of your own? Why have you prevented them to flow to the most undercover corners of human's soul? Why did you force the children to learn thoughtlessly the words of my heart – whether they have no hearts of their own? Or am I truly incapable to transfer its warmth to them, searching, without distortions of your minds?

Ask you, I shall, if you have really experienced every obstacle, given to me by the life of my own. And if not – who gave you the right to judge on behalf of mine? Our tasks are difficult, but on the aspiration and belief of everyone, we are given. Yet someone is a creature, shivering, and others have been given the right to change this world.

Or do you believe that your mind is truly capable to change it? But look, what the cunning and meanness of your minds have already done to you. No need for conjectures of your mind I have – but in souls and hearts of yours I want to see it. And what is heart if not a temple of a soul?

Or do you truly think that I am not capable of reading through souls of yours? Perhaps you will deceive me one day, – but how will you deceive the one, standing beside me?

How can you hide from His all-seeing gaze? By having put out your eyes only. How can you stop hearing His voice, given through us? By closing your ears only. How can you not feel His kind touches?  By having destroyed your hearts only.

Having a presentiment, I am, how under the sight of mine you will bend the head of yours and the shame, shrouded by fear, will pierce hearts of yours. But is that what I truly desire? No need for your fear I have, and even He has no need for it – but your understanding of own crime is necessary. But your desire for change is necessary. And what is a crime if not your unwillingness to change yourselves? And what is a result of your life if not your own punishment? And what is a true spiritual transformation if not your redemption?

And no more fear will be in the heart of the one, soared to the heavens. And only then you will help God help you.

But until you have flown to the skies, remember: all the evils you see around is the crime and the punishment. Your crime and your punishment.

14.08.2010

## Sentence

"Stand up, the court is beginning!"

"Stand up, everyone. Thanks! Now sit down, please. I declare a hearing on a poet's case opened. I would like to remind both the prosecutor and the advocate that we are dealing with an extremely dangerous social element, masking under an assumed name, and unreasonably stating about the beginning of yet not totally clear cardinal changes of all world order."

"An earth world order, mister judge. So the accused one told us."

"Yes, I thank you, an accuser, for this clarification. All visible earth world order. Such naivety!"

"Mister judge, shall I start?"

"Certainly. We will first listen to the prosecution. You certainly have something to tell us?"

"Indeed I have! So, well, first of all, I would like to ask jurymen and everybody in this hall to pay attention to this if it's even possible to say so, creative individual. Just look at what mad sight he possesses, how these very eyes sparkle with some strange and daring fire! And what an unprecedented impudence it is – to write about eternal life and potential human immortality! We, both judges and admirers of classical literature, have learned since school years one simple truth: trust, but check! And this very check of his frankly crazy literature trash cannot withstand any serious criticism. Mankind has been learning this for a long time – and it's proven by views of true representatives of Christian belief, officially fixed on a paper – that a human as a being, possibly possessing some sort of soul, still lives one and only one life and is resolutely incapable of revival in new appearances. Let us not take into consideration all that absurd, flying from mouths of those so-called spiritual leaders of the East, for they do not even worth a single bit of criticism. What complete nonsense is the statement, that a man does not die permanently, please tell, gathered Lords? Alas, by the will of God himself we were made mortal, for from the ashes we are born and to the ashes, we go. Alas, but such is the world order that we are capable to comprehend... and during seven thousands of years we, I bet, have managed to understand it up and down! And, just because man is a being essentially frankly and suddenly mortal, so, these "writings" about endless life and, as a consequence, the New World, is simply a delirium of a feeble-minded! And that very individual, facing you, is indeed a mad one, for only crazy ones are capable to create similar stuff so selflessly and disinterestedly.

I confirm, may be accused one really possesses some creative gift, but who can give a guarantee, that these are not the intrigues of enemies of the human race, desiring to ruin and destroy all our stability once and for all? We just cannot make up with his nonsense, for his statements undermine all basis of the managed statehood, which we have been building for quite a while. And, besides, – they undermine almost all our cultural beliefs, all our traditions, foundations, rituals, habits, and even prejudices, eventually! Here is before you, mister judge, and I will not escape this word, is simply and plainly a spiritual terrorist! He is the enemy of our entire society, of all our ideals, for which we have been preparing this very society for many years already. He is plainly a madman! He is capable of ruining all our tradition, our power, all that stability, which we have been trying to achieve. He just simply scoffs at people and brainwashes them... They would better watch that television, drink, and guzzle, after all, than read so mind-corrupting verses!

The past cannot come back and be returned – and this means that men cannot be revived, it's absolutely impossible, I simply refuse to believe that, mister judge – and I hope that you share my fears, concerning similar potential sudden changes of spiritual consciousness of people, conducted by us. This change is absolutely undesired by us – as well as the world does not desire similar madmen.

Look, just take a single look at how false and pathetically accused one is now trying to look me in the face... B-r-r-r-r-g-g-g-h-h! My skin is just starting to crawl, mister judge. There is something, something really terrible in his eyes – as well as in this person. We cannot allow him to influence minds of those loyal to us, to make him pervert them and take away from a path of patriotism and holy belief – that very orthodox belief, which he tramples with each word, each hint, each appeal to break down spiritual fetters!

How is that possible to consider oneself a believing person – and not to follow all canons and rituals of orthodox church? How is that ever possible to assert, that God never lived in temples? How is that possible to deny all moral advantage of fanatical religious ecstasy? How is that possible not to recognize so democratically elected government, after all? Terrorist, he is one of the most dangerous terrorists in the entire history of our state!

All of you have seen his works, and our psychotherapists have recently also taken out their professional conclusion: this man is mad! And this statement is proven by leading country's physicians in their official conclusions, which I am eager to present to your attention, mister judge, as well as to the attention of jurymen. Therefore, I warmly ask you, mister judge, to stop any further fatal activity of this individual and to place him where he should belong – to imprison him in a psychiatric clinic for years to come, up to that day, when a Savior himself – if he even exists,  of course – in a flesh and with his entire glory will descend into our world to aid our just souls to escape the bosom of shades without any efforts from our side!

Mister judge, I have finished speaking."

"I thank you for such a long and touching – I would even say, warm – speech. And, I believe, that all those gathered in this hall, his relatives included, are extremely touched by such boldness and frankness of yours! Well, and now, I guess, it's still necessary to listen to the advocate, if he, of course, has something valuable to tell to those gathered in this hall today. Defense, the word is given to you right now."

"I thank you, mister judge. You know, I am in deep love with my profession, and it's not I who should tell you, how it's very necessary for all of us to behave with concern to others, trying to help, but... You know, mister judge, I believe that this is just not the case. I tried to, I would really like to be humane and capable to tell something considerable and important in the justification of my defendant, but... I have no words to make that today. I... do not see sufficient reasons for the accused to be somehow pardoned or justified. As well as the prosecution I consider his isolation from society a necessity – for as long as possible. I have had my saying."

"Well... I thank you. You can take a seat. How do you believe, the accuser, is there is a reason to ask the opinion of the accused one?"

"I... do not believe that opinion of a madman can have any sense at all, mister judge."

"In that case, the court leaves for decision-making."

***

"Everybody, stand up! Thanks. Now please sit down. Based on the indications of defense and prosecution and having taken into consideration opinion of jurymen, the court has decided: to recognize accused one as deranged and, as a consequence, incapacitated and to imprison him in a psychiatric hospital for a term of at least one year with possibility of its further prolongation, according to the independent medical expertise. This sentence is definitive and is not subject to appeal. Please escort the accused one to a place of his future settlement immediately. And may God help him!"

***

They laughed loudly and mocked him. They spat in his face. They frankly exulted.

"So, have they caught you, Napoleon-of-all-the-Russia?"

"Place him in the sixth chamber!"

"The author rocks behind the locks!"

"You've been caught, the sentence's terse... what a funny, such cool verse!"

The first aid brigade has put an immobilizing white shirt on a person and dragged him through all area up to a car, parked nearby and howling with all voices of the underworld. The arrested person did not resist – for now, it was unnecessary.

The crowd shouted and aspired to snatch on the newly made prisoner, and a separate group of agents of national security, accompanying physicians, had to push aside those too quick. The man was needed for a regime alive – a living sign of its victory over own conscience and honor.

Still, recently solar sky suddenly began to become covered by clouds. They crept and crept one after another from the horizon, covering each other and quickly closing a firmament. After a ten-fifteen minutes time span, the sky has become almost completely black. Soon the first lightning sparkled and rain began to drum on a roadway with its large juicy drops.

The storm was almost ready to be born.

The sky conducted its own sentence to each and every living one.

14.01.2011

## Enlightened ones of our age

Following numerous requires of our readers, we have decided to republish a brochure named "Enlightened ones of our age", firstly published by us three years back. These three years is a considerable term both for us and for you, our dear readers, – so here and now after these three years we are publishing these materials once again from the kindness of hearts.

In present edition summary list was essentially transformed, taking into account tendencies of last years, revealed by us. In particular, two new forms of psycho-world-outlook condition of human consciousness, named by us as "Blighter" and "Savior" respectively, have been classified.

Let's note as well, that recently we have been observing a curious tendency of growth of the number of individuals with previously classified forms of consciousness "False Prophet" and "Prophet". We, world psychologists, find it difficult to precisely define possible reasons of such a tendency, however, do assume that main factor of its formation may lie in the preparation of planetary society to certain and yet obscure subsequent high-quality structural changes of its psycho-world-outlook component, which is occurring independently of individual will.

Classification summary list along with detailed description of each form of consciousness of a human individual follows.

1. Blighter

General description. Given form of consciousness is an extreme form of opposite axis "Savior" and is characterized by considerable development of tendencies defined by "False Prophet" category. In some cases individuals of this group of consciousness by some aspects of their behavior can look similar to representatives of a group of consciousness "Savior", however it should be noted that a serious distinction exists between them, because the ultimate goal of representatives of this group is exclusive spirituals enslavement of his adherents in addition to other forms of spiritual-degradation activities. The history of our planetary society knows only a few cases of the emergence of individuals with a specified form of consciousness.

Distinctive features. For individuals in this category, a full categorical orientation of judgments, as well as lack of any estimation of own spiritual-world-outlook activity and its consequences for the majority of individuals of other groups of consciousness, are typical. The only rather permanent aspect of their activity is its destructive and soul-degradation orientation.

Aspects of interaction with other types. Representatives of a given form of consciousness are that catalyst, which is capable to transform individuals of groups of consciousness "Doubting" and "Demagogue" into "False Prophets". Not only do they not shun to use of rough forms of suggestion, but are also ready during a rather continuous term to imperceptibly for representatives of specified groups of consciousness influence them, provoking gradual weakening of their willpower and reason and their further mutation into aforementioned types. In separate rare cases representatives of this group (more often through representatives of a group of consciousness of "False Prophet", and not directly) are capable to influence even representatives of a group of consciousness "Inspired".

2. False Prophet

General description. Given form of consciousness is a development of a "Demagogue" form. Its main trait is an amplified to almost incredible limits belief of an individual in the correctness and reality of "truth" proclaimed by him, own sanctity and infallibility. More often, however, it comes out that such "truths" are in fact rough self-suggestions, not accompanied by actual spiritual experience, subsequently negatively affecting psycho-world-outlook health of given individual as well as other whom has managed to affect substantially. Let's note, that by some aspects of its expression individual with described form of consciousness can remind "Prophet", however a fundamental difference exists between them, because unlike the individual with a consciousness form "Prophet", individual with given form of consciousness do not put as a basis of his activity reliability of own information and benefit of other individuals, his purpose lies only in a sphere of stimulations of self-arrogance and satisfaction of own ambitions in so-called "glory" and "familiarity", but for the purpose of concealment of similar ambitions individual can operate in some aspects as an individual with a consciousness type "Prophet". Let's also mention that in the last several planetary cycles a significant increase of a number of individuals of a given type of consciousness has been detected, however, concrete reasons for this phenomenon still remain rather disputable. Further development of tendencies of a given form of consciousness leads to its transition into a form "Blighter".

Distinctive features. Leading distinctive features of a specified form of consciousness is extremely low ability of an individual of thinking adequately to a situation, analysis of own statements and appeals. Similar reduced ability to introspection and reflection of own spiritual and intellectual conditions finally can lead to their full atrophy. In that case, the individual becomes similar to so-called "fanatics" for whom the blindness of own self-consciousness became a basis for their so-called "sermons" and "appeals". In addition, the individual also loses the ability to any change of his world-outlook-forming activity, continuing permanently conducting once chosen line and course of actions.

Aspects of interaction with other types. Individuals of this group are practically unable to be on good terms with an individual of all other groups except for individuals with types of consciousness "Doubting" and "Blighter". In this cases psycho-world-outlook unstable individuals with a form of consciousness "Doubting" can become his so-called "followers" who have believed in their "prophet", thus forming his "suite". In case of high numerical increase of this "suite" "False Prophet" can be joined by even more psycho-world-outlook steady individuals with a form of consciousness "Doubting" as well as individuals of "Demagogue" group, who can become misinformed by applied by an individual with a considered form of consciousness methods of concealment of own soul-spiritual essence. Individuals with a form of consciousness "Blighter" often become secret and hardly noticeable "spiritual instructors" of individuals of a given form of consciousness. These "instructors", once having got into their trust and operating secretly and unattentively, are capable of gradually transforming of consciousnesses of "False Prophets" towards destructive and spiritual-soul degradation activity absolutely imperceptibly for them.

The greatest so-called "apogee" relation of the interaction of individuals of a given form of consciousness reach with individuals of forms of consciousness "Prophet" and "Savior". The history of planetary society knows many examples of similar "duels", where there were winners from both sides, however detailed analysis of the essence of the interaction of specified groups lies beyond our research.

3. Demagogue

General description. Given form of consciousness is similar on the qualitative aspects to a form classified by us as "Doubting", however, a fundamental difference between them lies in the attitude of individuals with a specified form of consciousness to any sort of new, obscure for them information, mainly of psychological and world-outlook types.

Distinctive features. The difference of a given form of individual consciousness is that individual, often possessing no reliable information about the phenomena of spiritual-world-outlook aspect, behaves the way that allows him to hide mentioned absence of knowledge that is often manifested in scornful (and even more often – obsequious and concordant) relation to some formally fixed in consciousness of other individuals prejudices, intentionally or unintentionally ever accepted by them (mainly from individuals of "False Prophet" group). Given form of consciousness is a boundary one between categories "Doubting" and "False Prophet" and can be transformed both to the first and the second. Transformation into a consciousness form "Doubting" can occur in the case when for any reasons the individual with a given form of consciousness was compelled to reflect on legitimacy and orientation of own activity, as well as the reliability of the information provided to them. Transformation into a consciousness form "False Prophet" can occur in a case when the individual with a given form of consciousness gradually ceases to reflect on the adequacy of own psycho-world-outlook condition and ceases considering himself capable of making mistakes.

Aspects of interaction with other types. A distinctive feature of this type is the interaction with other types, based on a foundation of dispute and suppression of an opponent's opinion. It can seem sometimes that individuals with a given form of consciousness gain a true delight and satisfaction of their ego-I from these pseudo-discussions, however, whether it's actually true we still have to find out. In this respect, it's most difficult for individuals of this group to meet with individuals of "Philosopher". A significant role in the destiny of individuals of a given group can play individuals of types of consciousness "Blighter" and "Savior", having affected their transformation into either "False Prophet" or "Doubting" respectively.

4. Doubting

General description. Given form of consciousness of a certain type of quintessence between two groups of other categories – "Blighter", "False Prophet", "Demagogue" and "Inspired", "Philosopher", "Savior". The majority of individuals of planetary society at present moment can be considered as having this group of consciousness.

Distinctive features. The given form of consciousness is the most characteristic for an individual of modern to us planetary society. We believe that it's connected in a bigger measure with their weak ability to think independently and performing an inner spiritual search, with their high degree of suggestibility and some other negative traits of consciousness. Given form of consciousness is by its essence extremely mobile and easily giving in to changes into every direction. We cannot build any continuous forecasts of the direction to which the majority of individuals of a given form of consciousness will soon travel, however, it's doubtless that individuals of two other opposite forms of consciousnesses will play an essential role in this process.

Aspects of interaction with other types. Individuals of a given group as easily get into contact with individuals of any other group, as get into their influence. Let's note that during initial state of their contacts with representatives of other groups of consciousnesses there is no practical interest from their side (often with considerable interest from the initiator of contact), however subsequently, having become influenced by individual of any other form of consciousness, they can gradually start to adopt their spiritual and world-outlook component. We cannot define rather precisely criteria based on which it's possible to judge unequivocally to what influence of individuals from two categories given one will give in, due to a large degree of uncertainty in a question of his fate-destiny component.

5. Inspired

General description. In a case, when after rather continuous and, probably, having taken not a single one of so-called "planetary embodiment" periods of activity directed to satisfaction of own goals and desires individuals due to some considerable changes in own fate or fates of so-called "relatives" are compelled to step back from egocentric orientation of their life, their "ego-I" component becomes considerably destabilized or completely destroyed, and its place is being occupied by comprehension of unity and contiguity of invisible linking of all live beings of universal and planetary continuum among themselves – then a road opens to them to a form of consciousness called by us as "Inspired". These individuals become rather resistant to any forms of spiritual-soul activity of other individuals, they gain the ability to think soberly and estimate objective reality from the aspect of its spiritual-degradation component. Let's note, however, that the history of planetary society knows cases when least resistant to such influences individuals came under the influence of representatives of a form of consciousness "Blighter", becoming their adherents "False Prophets". Unfortunately, we cannot tell it for sure of whether it's connected with features of the soul-generical predisposition of certain individuals to the similar influence of whether it's a feature of a given form of consciousness as a whole.

Distinctive features. Individuals of a given form of consciousness are marked by considerable spiritual richness, they are capable of sympathy, love and good attitude towards other individuals (mainly with forms of consciousness "Doubting", who are starting to seem to them like small children who have not yet learned how to walk steadily in life) without following any proprietary purposes. Representatives of a given form of consciousness, in case of development of its orientation on love and support to all live world surrounding them, can gradually during numerous short so-called "inspirations", pass to a consciousness forms of "Philosopher" and further to "Prophet".

Aspects of interaction with other types. Individual of the present form of consciousness easily get in contact with individuals of the form of consciousness like "Philosopher", "Prophet" and also "Doubting". In the first case individuals of forms of consciousness "Philosopher" and "Prophet" can become their special "spiritual mentors" by means of any kind of creative activity (representatives of the form of consciousness "Philosopher" usually act that way), or through own life's example (representatives of the form of consciousness "Prophet" usually act that way). In the second case individuals of this group can become this very catalyst which allows individuals of a form of consciousness "Doubting" gradually transform into representatives of this form of consciousness – by the end of similar transformation individuals of a given form of consciousness usually transform into individuals of "Philosopher" form of consciousness, and the former representatives of a "Doubting" form become "Inspired" ones – and their students and followers.

6. Philosopher

General description. Given form of consciousness represents an essential development of traits and tendencies of a form of consciousness "Inspired".

Distinctive features. Features of this form of consciousness along with presence of traits from "Inspired" form is are the aspiration to the general comprehension by an individual of that universal and planetary continuum in which he is living, desire to understand true purposes of own life and mission, and well as the meanings of all planetary society which member he is, in a context of society universal. Similar aspiration is usually embodied in the form of diverse creative fulfillment in all forms of creative expression of an individual's consciousness, known to the given planetary society. These creative results of a process of spiritual search of the individual can become for representatives of a group of consciousness "Doubting" that soft push, which is capable to force them to overthink their target-purpose component of own planetary activity and promote the transformation of their consciousness into the form "Inspired". Let's note that some aspects of activity of representatives of the given form of consciousness can be similar in their external manifestations with similar aspects of representatives of the form of consciousness "Demagogue" due to the reason that representatives of both mentioned groups are capable of the processes of creative self-expression, however a feature of creative activity of representatives of the given form of consciousness is the absence in it any "ego-I" components unlike the activities of representatives of the form of consciousness "Demagogue".

Aspects of interaction with other types. Individuals of a specified form of consciousness communicate well with individuals of forms of consciousness "Prophet" as well as "Inspired". And if the first for them can be considered as "teachers", with the example of own disinterested life and unshakable love to all other beings showing them the possibility of own spirit, the second are peculiar "students", who have already chosen a path of love and now requiring a firm hand, capable to support them during difficult times.

The history of this planetary society knows cases when representatives of a given form of consciousness were capable to resist spiritual-degradation activity in relation to representatives of a form of consciousness "Inspired" from the side of "False Prophets" and "Blighters", however detailed analysis of these cases lies beyond the limits of our research.

Individuals of a given form of consciousness form a considerable opposition with representatives of a form of consciousness "Demagogue" due to mentioned fundamental differences in features of creative manifestation of their essence. Let's note that representatives of a given form of consciousness by themselves are very steady and resistant against any forms of soul-degradation activity from other individuals.

7. Prophet

General description. Given form of consciousness is a development of a form of consciousness "Philosopher". Let's note that such a transition is a lengthy and difficult process, and can take a considerable number of so-called "planetary embodiments" of the individual. The history of considered planetary society knows few cases of manifestation of individuals with a given form of consciousness, unlike the manifestation of individuals with a form of consciousness "False Prophet". However, during the last several planetary cycles, we have noted the increase in growth of the number of individuals of a given form of consciousness, however, concrete reasons of this phenomenon still remain rather disputable. Further development of qualities of a given form of consciousness leads to its transition into a "Savior" form, but the history knows only isolated cases of similar transformations.

Distinctive features. Characteristic of this form of consciousness lies in its ability to operate in unity with the spiritual and mental universal continuum, which results in so-called cases of "clairvoyance", "premonition", "blessed healing" and some other. Another feature of this form of consciousness is the absence of its possessor attachment to traditional forms of creative expression for given planetary society, their bearers prefer the simple and plain way of a lie – possibly exactly for that reason the history knows very few official cases of manifestation of similar representatives.

The ability to dig into the essence of events and things and distinguish their spiritual and intrinsic component of individuals of a given form of consciousness is incredibly high – they cannot be confused or brought down by false speeches (actions of representatives of a form of consciousness "Demagogue"), they are able to see the essence of representatives of all other forms of consciousness literally through and through, instantly feeling it at the first meeting. Due to these features, they are extremely resistant and practically not giving in to any type of spiritual-degradation activity from the side of other individuals, especially ones with forms of consciousness "False Prophet" and "Blighter". Concentration on the love, good nature and support among representatives of this form is comparable only to representatives of a form of consciousness "Savior".

Aspects of interaction with other types. Representatives of given form practically always obviously or implicitly gradually become spiritual mentors for representatives of forms of consciousness "Inspired" and "Philosopher", by their very way of life showing them the infinity of potential of universal love in relation to any forms of conscious life surrounding them. The greatest "apogee" opposition of representatives of a given form of consciousness reaches with representatives of forms of consciousness "False Prophet" and "Blighter".

8. Savior

General description. The given form of consciousness is an extreme opposite form of the "Blighter" axis and is characterized by considerable quality development of tendencies, defined by the "Prophet" category. The history of our planetary society knows only isolated cases of the emergence of individuals with a specified form of consciousness.

Distinctive features. The ability of representatives of a given form of consciousness to act in unity with spiritual and mental universal continuum reaches its limit, therefore cases of prediction and spiritual healing have extremely extensive character. Concentration on love among representatives of a given form of consciousness is so high that they appear to be capable to accept purposefully awaiting them in the future tortures (as they are able to see in advance possible events not only of their personal future but a future of all planetary society) for the sake of aid for their representatives. Due to these traits, they are totally not giving in to any sort of spiritual degradation activity of other individuals and in particular representatives of forms of consciousness "Blighter".

We are even aware of cases when representatives of a given form of consciousness appeared to be able by a way of enormous sincere and love concentration to transform representatives of a form of consciousness "Blighter" into a "Doubting" form, however, such cases are absolutely individual and their detailed consideration lies beyond this research. Unfortunately, we cannot precisely estimate the influence and effect of representatives of this form of consciousness on our planetary society, in connection with its considerable time duration and a variety of forms of manifestation of similar individuals.

Aspects of interaction with other types. Representatives of a given form of consciousness appear to be capable of transforming of consciousness of representatives of "Doubting" group and, certainly, "Inspired" ones into a form "Prophet". Such changed individuals further become those ones who are able to inform the most part of representatives of a form of consciousness "Doubting" of the spiritual-world-outlook component of their masters in a clear and figurative form.

01.01.2006

## Five in a boat, not counting the cat

All happy families are similar at each other, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way (с) L.N.Tolstoy

"The storm is approaching," the captain of a vessel has noticed. "We may be not in time. We should better..."

"We will be in time!" the Mistress has unceremoniously interrupted. "If you have obeyed me three hundred and twenty-seven strokes back, we wouldn't even be caught by it. I have been telling you, dolt, – to the south, to the south we had to row! And what did you say – we'll go north, we'll go north! Sail now to the east, oh my ingenious one! And don't even dare to break our family boat!"

"Oh, don't you start it," the Captain got confused. "Just imagine, how beautiful the north is! The polar lights, colds, stopping the blood, wind's howl that makes you lose your hearing, penguins on ice floes, after all..."

"Yeah, penguins are an interesting topic. I would like to see at least one of them live," the Middle brother has interrupted the conversation.

"And I desire to go to the West," the Elder brother said suddenly. "Life is a way better there and people are more cultural – don't swear like some other."

"So you'll swim there alone, in your next life. If you have sufficient brains. And now we'll sail to the southeast!" the Mistress was becoming even angrier.

"Heck, to the south or to the east, make up ye mind at last!" it was obvious, that Captain was already starting to feel the rage.

"At first to the south, and then to the east, wasn't that clear enough? Or do you need an instruction for each and every stroke?"

"Don't need," the Сaptain has taken offense. "I'll somehow manage it myself, move away!"

And, having this said, he has flopped on vessel's prow and started to fiercely beat the water with oars, as if waves of salty moisture were capable to extinguish a fire, periodically inflaming his soul.

"And where are we sailing now?!" the Mistress has exclaimed both unceremoniously and pathetically five minutes after the supervision over this nonsense. "There is no north over there! You have not even turned a boat!"

"If you are such a smart one, take oars and row yourself!" the Captain bawled. "You cannot even appreciate the help!"

"I don't want such 'help' even free of charge. You all are just useless, I have to do it all myself!"

And with these words, the Mistress has taken a seat on a stern and started to make elegant pirouettes on the water with oars.

A stroke. And yet again. And several tens of strokes as well. W-h-o-o-o-w-w-w-h-h-h! – and a wave, which has suddenly rolled on a vessel, washed away half of the stock, which was located there, having not spared even banal food.

"What have you made, asshole!" the Mistress cried out. "All our emergency rations were there, for evil day prepared!  The last gifts of my mother were there! Not for you, for my children all that I've prepared, by grains collected! What a clumsy one are you, indeed!"

"As if I had not done it for children!" the Captain frowned. "And, yeah, if that's so important for you, you must have fastened it better!"

"So I did! Attached everything, tied it all up! Who might have known, that you will be able to wash it all away in a single flash!"

"The luggage was washed away by a wave," the Middle has had enough time to interrupt the skirmish. "A man cannot command waves."

"The storm is coming," the Elder has noticed. "I can already see in on the horizon."

"Just look at what you have done!" as though not hearing him, the Mistress continued to exclaim. "Has washed away our stock, woken the Younger."

"Yep, yep," the Younger brother sniffed from a boat's corner, still opening his eyes. "Has woken, woken! Bad, nasty!"

"...And even managed to water our cat!"

"Miaow!" said the cat, who has just got out from under a seat and started to lick own wet wool extensively. "Miaow!" she has repeated once more and with a reproach in her cattish eyes stared at all the heroes of element's triumph.

"You row in opposite directions," the Elder has sarcastically noticed. "Are you planning to continue or going to stop right away? The storm is already close."

"Storm, storm! Mummy, mum! Save, rescue!" the Younger began to cry.

"Now, my little one, just a moment! All these dolts have not even the slightest idea, that we must row to the south! Only mum knows it all, can do it all, predicts it all! She will help, she will rescue!"

"Miaow?" a stained cat has interrogatively stared at her.

"A storm, however, you haven't foreseen," the Elder hemmed. "Come on, let me replace you," he told to the Mistress and unceremoniously took one oar. The Middle took the second.

"We will sail to the north tomorrow, three altogether," the Elder stated, addressing the Captain. "And now let's row to the east all as one," the Middle has added as well. "Ok, let's go!"

A stroke. And the next one. And several more hundreds of them.

They have almost reached the coast – but the storm has caught them nevertheless. It flanged the boat and began to whirl it, pouring with waves. It washed away another part of a luggage stock. It, finally, for the second time didn't spare an unfortunate cat, who had already started to dry up on a wind. It struck captain's face several times with its waves. It reached a stern with Elder and Middle brothers. It poured with water a screaming Younger one.

In short, it was rigid. But not omnipotent.

The storm has come to an end, and the coast has finally appeared. Just a two hundred meters. Just a leaking and dilapidated boat. Just a wet cat, rubbing about feet in a vain attempt to warm oneself.

"Retards!" a Mistress has shouted short after coming to her senses. "Broken a boat! Washed away the luggage! Watered the Younger one! I have no more powers, monsters!" and with these words, she has seized Younger brother and together with him has jumped overboard, strenuously swimming to a coast in a southern direction.

Three remained heroes of the day (four, considering a wet cat as a passenger) with the last bit of strength finally sailed to a coast, taking out water, accumulating in a worn out boat, in a process.

"So, where are we going to travel now?" the ex-captain interrogatively looked at them.

"To the West," the Elder brother said confidently. "Storm warnings are usually announced there in advance."

"Well, and I then, probably, will travel East, for the sake of variety," the Middle one decided.

"So, well, if things are that way and my leadership is no more necessary to everybody, I will go, perhaps, to the north," the Captain of the broken boat noticed enthusiastically. "Always dreamt of visiting the north at least once in my ex-captain's life..."

P.S. So, and how's cat's destiny turned out? Living well, we guess. Having jumped out in the last moment from her recent dwelling, which has broken on its way ashore, she has indifferently curved her back and, having caved in, has splashed from herself the rest of this inutile moisture, impregnated with salt of life, mewed few times encouragingly, and run, where the tail directs. Have granted herself to the new way of life.

10.04.2010

## Rituality

"You are so amazing and wonderful, so... ritual!" the Rituality flatteringly cooed to the man's ear.

"Indeed," he proudly raised his head, "I am a true believer!"

"Oh, no, no," the Rituality rustled in a low voice. "I did not say 'believer', I just said 'ritual'," she hastened to add. "You are very dignified! You will certainly go to... where you belong."

"Yeah," replied the man, "I am no doubt worthy of the Heaven. Unlike all those crooks and sinners around me!"

"That's not the word!" confirmed the Rituality. "How deep the world has fallen! Only scumbags are around and abound, no place for an apple to fall and lightning to strike. They will too fall... where they deserved. Unlike you. You are truly very special!" she rolled her eyes.

"Yes," the man didn't challenge the opinion of the Rituality. "The other day I even donated a large monetary sum to the Church."

"The one for which they originally had to build a completely unpromising kindergarten, but built instead of a really creative casino?" figured out the Rituality. "Shared your income on my advice, aye?"

"Yeah!" smirked the man. "What wouldn't you do for a sweet afterlife? This priest was on the seventh heaven and released all my sins from me in a swoop. So now I am worthy of Paradise, no less!"

"Sure, sure," sweetly smiled the Rituality. "He was on minus the seventh sky. Paradise, sure. Worthy of, sure. You just don't twitch like a snake on a frying pan when we start warming it up. And the next time you go with an offering to the church, buy a thicker candle – you know, it's very important to make your afterlife brighter. And don't you forget to kiss priests' hands – they are almost saints, we can say. I mean, pious ones, always I do make mistakes like that!" choked the Rituality. "Look, make a couple of extra bows in the name of their pride, and you'll be rolling in happiness!"

"Oh, indeed!" thought the man. "I simply forgot about all these bowings."

"Always do I need to teach you!" snorted the Rituality. "Ignorant hypocrites!"

"And what should I be saying to priests when bowing? I am not all that trained according to the canons to speak up without a hitch."

"Throw yourself at their feet and offer your donations. Ask to forgive you, the sinner. Add a few words from your vocabulary, such as: "And may my life rock as hell!" And keep offering them gold, all the time, don't ever forget that! You now have a fortune, it's easier for you to reach Heaven – unlike all these poor sinners!" grinned the interviewee.

"And everything will just rock!" confirmed the man.

"Oh, they will rock you to the death, don't you worry," reassured the Rituality. "We have the means for that. In the house of sorrow, in the house of grief, all the pain you will borrow, all the pain, dear thief..." she added in a singsong voice.

"The truth is yours," agreed the man. "These sinners just fucked up. Took the Son of God and crucified him. Sorrowful or so."

"Indeed," the Rituality agreed with him. "These ones will have to feel sorrow. Heck, they now even justify their assassination, having invented the legend of own salvation through God's Son. Keep earning money on this murder even now, you know. Faugh!" and the Rituality ostentatiously wrinkled her face.

"Maybe you would give another advice?" asked the man. "Really want to shut down my aching conscience, it's has been bothering me a lot lately. I am even thinking of buying a whole temple to get to Heaven with a guarantee."

"Conscience, you say, torments you? And you just... kill it!" said the Rituality without a sign of irony.

"How's that... to kill?" the man didn't get it. "Wait, is that even... possible?"

"Not even possible, but strictly required," firmly confirmed the Rituality. "And the sooner, the better!"

"And what does one need for that?"

"Oh, very little!" grinned the Rituality. "You just need to... accept me whole," she whispered and looked straight into man's eyes.

In her eyes, which have suddenly darkened at that moment, malevolent sparks of flames flashed, and heat started flowing from her body.

"To allow me to... absorb you forever," she hissed and grabbed the man in her arms, not letting him make a single movement.

At this moment under the influence of the heat her skin started cracking, red scales became visible in its place, and bony tail began to elongate between her feet.

"No!" cried the man. "Traitor! Go away from me, demon! Away, killer! I do believe!"

"N-o-o-o!" hissed the Rituality. "If you truly believed, you wouldn't need me at all. None of the rituals are capable to replace a genuine fire of one's heart, no false offerings to temple impostors who keep calling themselves as servants of the Lord can substitute for an honest and righteous life. Just as there can be no prayer for money, there can be no redemption for them as well. Now... do you... finally... understand?" the Rituality hissed directly to the man's ear. "But you have chosen me instead of the Faith, which is my enemy. You weren't helping people, but robbing them instead. Was thinking only of your own soul and how to exchange it more expensively. Come now to my arms, my dear liar..." tail of the Rituality has risen high above her head and was now looking straight into man's eyes, attracting all his attention.

"N-o-o-o-o!" the man screamed.

"Now do you finally understand whose servant I am?!" the Rituality hellishly laughed with all her powers mere moments before nailing her new slave to the wall with her sharp as the truth tail.

23.02.2013

## Born for life

"Mummy, mummy, look, it's the shop I have told you about! Let's go there and you buy me that big transformer that I have asked, ok?"

"No, sonny, you'll get a transformer on your birthday – and currently we have no money for such entertainments."

"But mummy, please! I have begged you of that for so long. I want that transformer I've told you so much! He's the leader of good transformers which are battling with Megatron, I want exactly him! Please, mummy, buy! And I will clear all my room, ok? Well, mummy, ok? Will you buy?"

"Pavel, no. I have already told you – I cannot buy it for you at present. Only on your birthday. But now I cannot. I cannot. All right, and now let's go buy some food. We shall make something tasty for a supper, well?"

"All right..." but there is was no way possible to tell by the voice of a kid that he would gladly trade off the possibility to possess a toy of his dream for one tasty pie or cake.

Mother – still a rather young woman of thirty years and her son – one could give him five-six year judging by his look, – turned away and starting moving into the opposite from a toy shop direction. The child sighed and finally turned away his look. He didn't manage to beg mummy once again, and this means that he'll have to wait for several more month to get his favorite toy... However, they didn't manage to travel for long.

"Lena! Lenochka, is that you?" and some woman approached his mother.

His mother turned to face her and a smile appeared on her face.

"Olga! Hello! By what ways have you managed to be here?"

"I am on a business trip. Public relations, business meetings. Well, you understand me," and she smiled. "Well, and how are you living?"

"Normally. Not so smartly as you do, certainly, but quite well nevertheless."

They kept silence for a while.

"After all, we haven't seen each other for ten years..." for some reason his mother said this even somehow sadly.

"Yes, ten years... How fast did they pass for me... just like an instant. And what about you?"

"No, for me it was not quick. They were interesting for me. Totally thanks to him," and his mother pointed to him with a hand.

"Oh, that must be Pa... Pavel, right? And I remember him being a tiny child... Hello, Pavlik," said this woman and, having stretched his hand, added, "give a woman a hand!"

He looked at his mother. She was smiling as if saying – "well, sonny, greet this aunt". Then he transferred his look to the unfamiliar woman and slightly given her his hand. When she has taken his small palm into her own as if some sort of cold and at the same time burning wave passed through it. He fitfully, sharply and awkwardly drawn his hand aside.

"Just look at how unsociably are we!" the unfamiliar woman frowned eyebrows and pursed her lips. "Well, fine, if you don't want to greet me well – have it your way. At least I have no such problems," she added slightly more silently. "Listen, Lenysya. I stopped here in one hotel for about five days. I could call on you somehow – let's talk with each other, after all, we haven't met for quite a while, old friends, that sort of things," the stranger woman smiled. "Well, how's that?"

His mother reflected for a while.

"All right," she answered about five seconds after. "I will gladly meet with you. Come tonight – I write down my street address to you."

Then there were digging in bags, searches for pieces of paper, specifications of address. He listened no more. When after ten more minutes his mother finally said goodbye to that woman, she approached him, winked and told – "Today aunt Olya will come to us. Be the clear head and behave well," and mother kissed him on a forehead.

He shuddered when he heard it. He shuddered from the very thought that he must stand near this woman again, to sustain her sight full of hostility, and even greet and say goodbye to her again! Perhaps, he couldn't explain precisely even to yourself of what exactly he disliked in that woman, – but already at the thought of her, he was filled with disgust.

"I don't want her to come to us," he whispered.

"You don't want? What does it mean that you don't want? No, we cannot refuse her. Sonny, I haven't seen her for much time, and she is my former classmate. I cannot refuse her offer!"

"I don't want, don't want, don't want it! She is a bad woman, I don't want her to come!"

"Stop it! Cease these idle talks immediately! Now we will come back home and I shall cook a meal and then we will be awaiting her. And no but's to me!"

The child began crying. He began crying when his mother pulled him by hand and led home, giving no chance not to obey her desire. The feeling of extreme loneliness and forlornness overwhelmed him – as though the entire world together with his mother in a flash of time turned away from him.

They were going and going back home. For all road long he has been imagining himself how that woman continuously drills him with her gaze, and he desired to burst out crying even more strongly. When this painful and unceasingly long way has finally come to an end, and he entered their house, – he ran into his room, rushed on a bed and having closed himself from disappointment by a pillow and concealed himself in a blanket, went silent.

He vaguely remembered what was going on after. It seemed mother has finally found him in his shelter. It seemed she forced him to put on some awkward ironed suit. It seemed they have been waiting for the guest then. This expectation appeared painful – and when he saw before him the face of this woman with a fake smile on it when he was forced to feel this ice-burning touch once more – he almost started crying again. Then his mother for long has been chatting with that woman. He didn't listen to them – he was allowed to sit alone in the room (oh, how he was glad of that!). Only occasionally scraps of words and phrases reached him.

"...hi! Here I am..."

"...ite?"

"...yep. This is my business suite. So, how do I look like in that?"

"...my... what's that?"

"...don't look at a bracelet! Better look at these earrings..."

"...yes..."

"...yes, come in."

"...oh, such close space... How... live like that?!"

"...how can. Not... rich."

"...yes..."

"...faugh, away! Have gathered... ur creatures! I am having allergy on a wool!"

Then conversation, apparently, became totally silent, so he could hear nothing. Besides, he didn't listen too attentively – only loud sounds from time to time reached his ears.

"...and?"

"...so what?"

"...oh, really?"

"...and how are you?"

"...still the same?"

"...oh, never mind... what of you?"

Like that it has been going for about an hour more. Then all went silent for some reason – and fifteen minutes later amazed voice of his mother loudly shouted...

"What have you done?!"

"...abandoned. Not a big deal or damage! Besides he... not... uired."

"...child... left?! In... maternity house?"

"...have told – he was not required for me. But this... bastard survived... even... usage... pills! To go to do... abort... with friends... not. And... use... I... left him... there... some compassionate woman... take care... him."

"...how... could you?! He... live... an!"

"...for me... who cares? Was... ive and will be live, if... taken care! I... don't care. I... my own life... don't want... waste... such... ids! I... still... oung. Figure... should take care. Well... you understand."

"...not understand! How many... yours... abandoned?! How many were left alone?! They must... ably... died!"

"...well... left two... abort...made... three times. And... no look like that... me! It's... my life after all!"

Then his mother once again started speaking silently for some reason – and a minute later her loud voice made him clamp own ears...

"...from my apartment... not a friend! You... iller! Small... hild killed! Abandoned! Get away!"

A noise followed and he, having looked out from a door of his room, has seen, how his mother almost pushed out that woman to an exit door.

"...et away! No... uch... friend!"

"...ill leave! No such... upid... lf-sacrificial silly woman for me!"

Several more seconds passed and with a roar the door was closed. When he heard the noise of approaching steps, he rushed on a bed and concealed himself with a blanket. His mother came close to him, lifted up a blanket and strongly embraced him. She was crying.

"Forgive me... onny. I should have listened to you. You felt her better than I did. I... could not. I didn't think... that... such a... ruel!... ve me, darling!"

He looked at his mother. Saw these sad crying eyes, felt these warm hands, this overwhelming him love – and selflessly hugged his mother.

"...cannot... image... should feel... at child... was... being killed!... only... enter the world... was instead... ruthlessly... murdered! My God! What... for! Such... ittle... kid... killed!"

His mother continued crying. He nestled on her even stronger.

"You... me... Will not... allow... to hurt you! My darling... Pasha... live... small... man!"

"I love you, mummy!"

"Sonny, I too do love you!"

***

"That' it. I clearly remember that day still, even though I was about five years old by that time."

"Have you not met that woman afterward?"

"No. And neither did my mother – relations with that woman were finished forever. Mother didn't want to see her in our house any longer."

"Yes, probably you are right. How good is that you have not happened to be a 'son' of such a mother! Because then I would probably have not ever met you in that world."

"And I too would never meet you. Yes, someone is ready to kill children – they are being killed each and every day. No one even considers how many people could be born – and has been killed because of fear of responsibility, foolish whim, because of cowardice, cruelty... Soon the motherhood and the birth of even a single child will become similar to a feat of courage... the most natural will become the 'privilege of great people'... It's good to know that there are still those who are not afraid of this 'feat', there are mothers. We were lucky. It's a pity that others were not so. It's worth hoping that people will rethink and understand, that all their 'aborts' are murders. Justifications have no value – there is an act and there is a consequence – for the world and for the actor himself. And they cannot be changed – until actions themselves remain the same."

"Yes, I know, you are speaking the truth. But let's stop thinking of that at least for a second, ok? All right? And now, Pavel, take me by my hand. Stronger! Not listen to what I wanna tell you..."

06.01.2005

## Accident

And so you are reading these lines... an accident? And how many there were at all in your life?

Here you were born absolutely casually... Your mum somehow accidentally happened to meet your father, and thus they have decided to give birth to a child – too spontaneously and casually, as you might have guessed. Don't you accidentally remember how all this once began?

You have casually arrived in school, accidentally graduated from the institute... Your life was full of accidents totally ridiculous and even inconceivable and not predictable beforehand at times. Take, for example, this happy – casual? – coincidence when you have met your future girlfriend one early spring morning on the crossroads of two pathways when each of you was slowly moving somewhere by the street. You lost yourself in contemplation of her and practically haven't noticed how someone has accidentally left a cover of an opened manhole directly in your way... And then she along with other men helped to pull you out of this fetid hole. This was such an unusual acquaintance... Subsequently, it has appeared that both of you worked for several years in different departments of the very same company, yet have never before met each other on a work basis... strange, huh? And then you – well, certainly, accidentally, – started writing her verses, giving flowers and made a marry proposition once.

And once – do you remember? – in a fierce winter day, you have completely quarreled with your parents and was thinking of abandoning your home. Was aimlessly wandering city streets under roofs of buildings, and giant icicle has fallen just a pair of meters before you, haven't hurt you by some sort of a miracle... another accident? And for how many times did you happen to avoid similar deadly dangers subsequently? One after another – and all totally casually...

And for how many times did you accidentally have in your possession a thing, necessary for others; a remarkable and useful idea came to a mind all of a sudden; you appeared to be exactly in a proper place and in due time? And how many times your acquaintances and friends appeared to be near you so timely? Accidentally you managed to find new worthy and familiar friends... Haven't you accidentally forgotten all that?

And what about this sky, funny cloudlet-lambs, this sun caressing your skin, this wind pulling out your hair, these snowflakes slowly falling on your tongue... does all this happen exclusively by accidents as well? Let's take at least these mentioned snowflakes – did you ever see their beauty? With what probability are molecules of water, freezing, capable to constantly create such freakish and surprising forms? And have you had a chance to behold clouds similar to animals or, say, a heart in form? And did it happen that a recently cloudy sky near you suddenly cleared itself from clouds and sunrays started shining through formed gleam – shortly after your inner mood improved before the event? Or do you still consider these entire thing happening casually and accidentally? Or perhaps you still have no knowledge of something vital and most important about this world you live in?

You happened to have stayed in a gloomy condition of spirit for a long time once, were seriously depressed and, as a consequence, absolutely accidentally became ill. Pains of absolutely illogical nature disturbed you – either your heart stars tearing itself apart, or liver begins to moan, or a head decides to start cracking from the inside. Medics diagnosed general nervous over fatigue of an organism and advised to lie in bed for longer periods – but you surely have known that the true reason of the illness lies elsewhere. You started to look through comedy films from boredom one after another – and in a couple of days has sharply gone on the amendment, and in a week was like a newcomer. An accident?

You casually were angry with people – and fell in pools the very next moment. Casually took offense and filled your heart with hate – and almost instantly went ill. Accidentally helped someone – and wonderfully through very different circumstances life aided you in reply...

Accident, accident, accident... how many there were at all in your life? And what is, according to theorists from a science, your life if not a chain of accidental events and circumstances? But in that case... the entire Universe, and this galaxy, and this very planet, and billions living on it... are sort of an accident as well? Or perhaps you still know too little of the world you still live in?

And here and now you accidentally keep reading this casual text. Or... maybe accidents have never existed at all?

18.08.2011

## Mass-media!

Mass-media!

And that's – almost an order. Almost a command not subject for disobeying, which internal muck becomes obvious only after the N-th telecast.

Mass-media! It's the order to cease thinking, stop trying to comprehend vital life transformations, occurring around you, the order to live some other's life, burning invaluable moments of time in a fire chamber of senseless and ruthless monologues with a screen of your unsurpassed TV – unsurpassed in the art of fooling the soul of human.

Mass-media! And here you are, sitting on a sofa after a next, certainly, heavy working day, incorporating all those fetid streams of information, which media "gods" have decided to present you this time as a sort of universal spiritual breakfast, dinner, and supper. And where would you be nowadays without their immense generosity, what would you know, of what could you have a talk with your fellow workers?

Mass-media! And here you are living in a state of constant fear. Fear to go out of doors when there are so many gangsters, murders and rage swirling around. Fear to give birth to children, because – well, certainly! – you would prefer to "enjoy life to the full", and the new foreign car stands in the list of your priorities so above your own son. Fear to truly love someone, having no dread of the possible lawsuits. Fear to assist another because "by the good affairs...", and present earth law doesn't encourage initiative. Fear to oppose tyranny of the chief, because if you dare to delay a payment under the credit at least once during nearest decades – you can cease to remain even the conditional proprietor of the apartment in a mortgage that you have taken because "habitation is a profitable business", and due to extreme human greed can only rise in prices. Fear to become the one not favorable and fashionable, fear to return to you bright, original and pure...

Mass-media! And the next saving stressful injection has already started spreading in your organism.

Mass-media! And whether it's really necessary to think and argue on something when it has been already done for your sake? Food of facts is digested, fertilized by chemicals of expert opinions, structured, classified, prepared and packed into a convenient television box, from which evil spirits of modern times will teach you of what is good, favorable and expedient – in compliance with their own vision. And do you really need yours?

Mass-media! Truly, that's so pleasant – to relax in front of your TV's screen, having forgotten of a huge bag of stones of your nonsenses, which you have been dragging for all day long on a back, feeling no desire to get rid of, for something greater than feeding on these media is required for that purpose? It gives your torments a short time-break – to see how someone another is suffering even more. Nice spiritual antibiotic, yeah?

Mass-media! It's practically a diagnosis.

Mass-media! And here you are climbing a fake Olympus, which has conveniently sunk in a swamp, in a hope to be shown in other same boxes. For some unknown reason, it seems to you as a greatly significant and important moment of your life – probably to have yet another topic for yet next chit-chat with your fellow workers? Are you completely sure in your desire to get into a crate ahead of time – and in which one, exactly?

Mass-media! A perfect tool to create heroes from mediocrities and to mediate heroes.

Mass-media! The more, the better, yes? So that you will totally lack time to think of something really significant, to make something truly valuable... Perhaps, a convenient justification of own unwillingness to look widely and deeply? Socially legalized possibility to remain an informational consumer, without doing a single step for own growth.

Mass-media! A drug. A way of rejecting yourself, a way to flee from a reality, which you are too lazy to alter.

Mass-media know what they are doing. Do you?

28.02.2012

## Real trifle

He was destined for great deeds. But his life consisted of trifles...

Your life is just a real trifle compared to your dreams about it, right? But whether it's your fault? Don't worry – certainly, no. You were already born as such, brought up by your parents as such, educated and forged by a society as such, and you find it fun to remain as such yourself. You bear no responsibility for anything in your life, for responsibility is such a real trifle! You have no idea, actually, why it's, your life, which has developed as so, and in no way different. Probably, such was the will of casual circumstances unknown to you, and will of yours is such a trifle in comparison with ones of them. And who are you to become the master of own fate, already written in advance by someone?

From the very birth, you have felt born for great causes. It's all the rest have been doomed by their destinies to bear their cross of petty affairs, dreams and ambitions year after a year, while you have been made for something great, something grandiose, unforgettable, unrepeatable, almost eternal... something which is not a trifle. How strange is that life hasn't given you even a single chance to show others this greatness of yours, but appeared to be some sort of a pitiful beggar, constantly asking for a handout directly before your very eyes. How petty it's from her part!

From time to time you managed to do that. Sometimes you felt with your very bones that you have finally made something important, kind, light, necessary – have helped somebody and made this world a bit kinder and warmer. But on the other hand, all these deeds of yours – they are such a true trifle compared to what you could potentially achieve. But – what a strange thing! – your life has developed exclusively on trifles. Or whether it was you demanding everything at once?

From time to time you came off second-best. Deceived and was deceived, beat and was bitten by stones, loved and hated simultaneously. Indeed, you felt how small are many of your true motives, your promptings, and aspirations – but whether had you no right for them? Besides, you still always have the time to rectify own errors... a trifle, surely, but such a pleasant one.

How petty others concerned you from time to time! And why, really, couldn't they be more magnanimous, loving and understanding in relation to you? Why did they performed ridiculous things, spoke nonsenses, and tried to deduce you from your ideal self-image periodically? Whether did you grant them the right to behave as such with you? However, life already has had the time to make a strike back to some based on their affairs... a trifle, truly, yet such a pleasant one.

If you had only known how to transform this world and make it kinder in relation to itself and to you in a single step! But one is always born as a genius, and never becomes him, right? And petty life has unfairly deprived you of the possibility to demonstrate own genius, hasn't granted the slightest chance to spread own burned wings and soar into the highest heights...

And here and now you along with your internal frenzy and external impenetrable blissful smile keep shifting day by day papers from one folder into the next, and from one table over another, calling this nonsense your job instead. You are such a big chief for now – indescribably greater than all these unworthy ones, fawning before you, who didn't manage to climb up that fake Olympus on which you have been sitting for a lot of years of own life already... a trifle, true and true, but such a pleasant one indeed!

To tell the truth, you have already started forgetting of these pink dreams of own childhood and of brave aspirations of own youth – they, probably, were too unearthly as well... too non-trifle? But, heck, what's the reason to think of that for now? You have your official wife in possession, own house and a countryside cottage in addition to a solid bank account, you have your new life. The fear of death overcomes you at times, but you promptly drive these petty and itching thoughts away.

You have been born for great deeds – but have doomed yourself to die, having still not realized your true divine potential... And, after all, what is a death for the one who has never truly lived... a real trifle, right?

15.08.2011

## Scenario

"You call us Angels, but you laugh loudly at our backs when we speak to you of the flight. You crucify us when we come to your world as prophets only because of you and for you. Time and again you forget of the Highest world once you have clothed yourself in the armor of flesh. You made us the children's fairy tale and plunged yourself into the horrors of own adult reality. You remember nothing of own obligations, undertaken before the birth, and travel by roads not intended for you. You destroyed our teachings with your religions, and they were deprived of the last drop of life, sanctity and true kindness. You replaced soul with technologies, and your machines started killing you. You cease to remember, that the world does not live for long without a peace inside it. And by the end of your filled with vanity lives, you keep thinking that you have brought something to this suffering world that possesses a quality of eternity, and therefore you should be awarded. But it's not for you to decide."

"Amigo!" with these words dressed in a strict red attire Curator appeared before his dressed in heavenly-blue colleague, continuing to soar in the air, continually streaming airwaves in all directions, under the influence of which numerous books and manuscripts in apartments of his old acquaintance were rustling with their pages, sometimes even soaring up for a while. "What is that are you doing here today?" he asked his friend a question, fixedly looking at how he was working behind the desk with some glistening manuscript.

"Writing a message to a prophet. I was ordered to deliver it to the destination, he will then give it to others.  However, I am afraid that they won't understand a single word, just like the last time. You know what they are."

"Nothing holy behind a mask of pseudo-sanctity!" the Curator in red attire burst out laughing. "Here, I still remember how a couple of centuries ago you were still trying to tell them through Lermontov what was awaiting them a century later on – and what do you think? Even a century after these bloody events they still believe that he was not talking about a revolution in that particular poem. And this patronized poet of yours even named that poem 'Prediction'."

"I am just doing my job," with notes of grief in his voice said the dressed in blue colors Curator, putting aside a silver feather. "How they will use its results – is their own personal choice."

"As well as the fate," added the Red Curator.

"As well as the fate," confirmed the Blue one.

"By the way, I just flew to Scribes here," shifting from one wing to the other, confusedly answered the red. "Concerning yesterday couple, I asked for specifications on their life scenario. Anton with Olga, do you remember them? We were arguing with you for a vial of ambrosia, which of them would first begin that conversation that was going to be the start of their relations. So," the Red Curator burst out laughing, "I have truly got a specification from the Scribes today."

"And who will that be?" the Blue Curator interrogatively looked on the Red, while continuing to draw something with a feather in the manuscript.

"Cat, naturally! In the cafe where they would be sitting that day at one little table, the homeless cat will wander in, who will then jump on a table and start loudly demanding some fish for herself as well. And they, most certainly, will caress and feed her, and get acquainted with each other in the process. So how it goes! You never guess that in advance!"

"His ways are inscrutable, as people like to say," smiled the Blue Curator. "I wouldn't think it up, not able to write life scenarios."

"And you also don't need to," the Red Curator friendly clapped his colleague on a wing. "You perform your own job very qualitatively."

"And what of Kirill and Veronika? We were jokingly arguing about them yesterday as well, remember? Awakened souls, extremely rare case, by modern standards."

"Certainly, I remember them. Such souls are forgotten neither by me nor by the Supreme One. So, I managed to convince the Scribes to allow me to take a glimpse on their scenario. It appears that a new leaf was recently added to their life scenario, a final one – and everything drastically changed for them according to the decision of the Supreme One and the Uniform Law without violations of a free will. Here, take a look," and, having that said, the Red Curator waved a wing, and in the center of workshop vivant, almost alive pictures started flowing, replacing one another.

"...And then he dances on the clouds. Beautifully. Sadly, however, but, nevertheless, beautifully. Some corresponding music is still to be added here. It turns out that she will share his destiny up to this last moment and further on," the Blue Curator sighted sadly the moment pictures from alive scenario dissolved in the air.

"A worthy parting with a mortal body seldom happens to be cheerful. So, such is the additional piece here."

"And did you by any chance happen to acquire a scenario for the Earth?" smiled the Blue Curator. "Probably, so many interesting destinies have been described there."

"Or so many uninteresting ones. You perfectly know the rule – without compliance of free will to a course of a scenario, its points can't come to life."

"I know. Therefore, I have never asked for it in the Library. It's a difficult task – to know the future of others beforehand. Especially when life gives a person a choice, and he doesn't use it. And you foreknow in advance that he would have never used it, being given it even one thousands of times. But as long as there are those who continue choosing spiritual ascension, there is still hope left for their world."

"Who if not the Seer should know that well," the Red Curator smiled and once again clapped his friend on a wing.

"Who if not the Supervisor of Fates should remember that mysterious are the ways of the Lord," the Blue Curator winked in reply.

01.10.2017

## Creators

"...And there they meet with happiness at last..." the Story-Teller has finished the narration, closing the book and beholding faces of listeners in the light of evening street fires for a moment.

And after a brief moment questions started falling down on him as if from a fountain of abundance.

"What, just behind that great Wall?"

"Yes," the Story-Teller smiled, "where the Experiment comes to an end and heroes of our tale ascend to a new level of understanding. They all start a new life from that moment, for the end of the Experiment doesn't mean the end of their ways."

"And why did Observers have become the ones you described?"

"You can never tell. Perhaps they were uninterested in the Experiment and preferred not to interfere. Or, maybe, the heroes created by the Scribes didn't impress them at first? We can keep on guessing for quite a while, but, apparently, will never learn of true reasons for such a decision of theirs."

"Probably, it's very boring to watch over a world as if you are watching it on a TV, yet cannot interfere yourself? I would certainly die from boredom myself!"

"But you must certainly have heard what difficulties face the Descended ones?"

"To forget themselves for a time... I will definitely not subscribe for something like that! That's real amnesia!"

"Well, as they say, the will of Scribes prevails for they have created heroes for their world."

"I too would like to create at least a couple of heroes myself! And a winged dragon as well – like the ones from children's fairy tales, only much greater!"

"I am certain it will turn out to be a beautiful dragon. But before that, we still need to work more on skills of our imagination. Don't you forget that it's the most vital creative tool in our possession."

"And why creators of the Experiment acted that way?"

"They cannot do it any other way. To become a hero one needs to pass trials. Heroes of Scribes were not always as such in the past."

"And would you like to be a Scribe yourself one day?"

"No," smiled the Story-Teller, "I am satisfied with that joy – to tell you of what Scribes have created for all of us."

"And do Scribes face difficulties sometimes?"

"A lot of. For one needs not only to imagine heroes but to train them afterward. To place them in right spots, to create and keep correcting thread of events as narration goes on, not to lose sight of anyone's destiny and fate... It's truly an awesome task to complete," hemmed the Story-Teller.

"And what's the difference between novice and master Scribes?"

"Good question! You know, it seems to me that novice Scribes do not fully realize their own role – as if they see the world they are making and their imagined heroes from a distance as if through a prism. They can give life to a new hero or take it from one they have already created – novice Scribes need it to emphasize the significance of some of their thoughts or ideas.

And masters..." and Story-Teller raised his head to the starry sky for a moment, as if checking with it, "masters start living with their worlds and heroes together for real. They mourn together with them and rejoice their victories together as well, pass difficult tests and enjoy well-deserved rest, they both teach and study with them. And once there comes the moment when they forget for a while of who they really are and that the world they have made exists only in their imagination thanks to fantasy, for they have descended in their own world to the fullest."

"It turns out there would be no us without someone's greatest imagination?" listeners asked all at once.

"And there would be no world without it," the Story-Teller smiled in reply.

30.03.2016 

## Plant louse

The Plant Louse gradually and unstoppably crept downhill a mountain.

The wind was blowing into her face, howling and as if begging to stop, the sun was mercilessly scorching her back, which has already become covered in scabs, here and there all of a sudden some holes-hollows of unknown origin were popping up. But she confidently continued her journey downwards – for there on the lowland, as it seemed, a paradise of eternal and lazy pleasure has been awaiting her. Her impetuous mind drove and pushed her forward – there, to the undiscovered downhill distances – and, methodically moving her legs, she obeyed her master and lord remorselessly.

Recently the Louse has dined with her own relative – dead, of course, – which she has found in a pool of blood, already warmed up by the scorching sun. Her comrade-in-arms by the absence of reason has been probably dying in agony, – some of his legs have been dead-burnt by a star and their ashes have already been swept by a wind, and some green viscous poisonous substance of inconceivable for the Louse nature has been flowing from his stomach. That's why the Louse has disdained a substance – for only goodness knows, what lurks there, inside them, Louses, right? – but semi-blind eyes and some poor excuses of ears have appeared to be rather appetizing, as well as the remnants of the brain, still not totally decayed. The Louse, probably, would not even touch the remains of her colleague, if not for that painful hunger, which has been torturing her during the last days of a journey There. The Louse had not the slightest idea of why this unstoppable bloodlust has suddenly arisen in her, but it has been growing and strengthening with each passing day. Truly hard is the burden of the chosen ones, trying to reach the true paradise, indeed.

It seemed that very little effort was required for now. Certainly, the Louse couldn't view all the horizon of her path – only a small piece of it, still visible for her eternally bent head and weak-sighted eyes – but, nevertheless, it appeared to her that the paradise is almost there, just a few more steps and then, finally...

From time to time the Louse dreamt of wings. Of those true wings, possessed by flying heavenly giants, whose shades she sometimes saw on the ground. Plant louses called those ones as Angels – Messengers of Heavens. Indeed, they had the possibility to behold their shades, their pity reflection only – but even this sight sometimes bewitched their poor excuses of souls... The Louse did never gazed into the Heavens – was simply incapable to do so soul-genetically, so to speak. Initially, her relatives were terrified of these heavenly ambassadors, believing that they feed on them, Plant Louses, and can devour them, – but, as multi-thousand-year practice has shown, plant lice did not interest them, – were too tiny, probably... The Louse thirsted to fly – just simply stand up and soar to heavenly heights, to see all her way, to say so, from bird's flight perspective. Once upon a time the Louse overheard with the edge of her semi-bitten off ear, that their ancient ancestors have had some semblance of tiny wings – and they even could fly up low from time to time, – as though in semi-jumps – but after that something has changed in their organisms, was broken – and since that times only rudiments of those former wings were left. And thus the entire race of plant lice has forgotten how's that – to fly...

The Louse masterfully continued the movement, methodically rolling her legs. She was, to say the least, sort of a champion – one of the best ones. Almost ninety percent of her relatives have died out, competing among themselves of who can crawl There before all others and make the first mark on this new land – but this very Louse confidently continued her journey. Some louses died from thirst, being unable to drink some turbid black slime, shining with all colors of a rainbow under the sun, which the Louse has encountered in the form of some small puddles, no doubt left by the Maker himself. The brain of others simply fused under the fiery sun. Some went completely blind and started spinning round and round, plaintively cheeping in a vain hope to earn a small bit of sympathy from competing brothers. Someone broke several own legs and was devoured by his starved colleagues. Some became deaf and ceased to hear inviting shouts of their leaders in their common journey There, and, thus, hopelessly lagged behind. And some gave up on everything by wing, laid down on a burnt grass, closed his eyes and stiffened. To cut a long story short, were a few worthy ones remained. And that Louse was one of those lucky.

The Louse has just finished eating the newly found corpse of her comrade-in-luck, and was going to continue advancing as all of a sudden something has sharply and desperately changed in all her surroundings. Unknown huge and incomprehensible shadow covered the earth ground in all possible vicinity, something great and unstoppable has suddenly begun moving towards the Louse – and towards the entire race of plant lice, moving in ranks... something greatly dreadful for them, plant lice.

"Oh, did He really exists?!" the Louse has had a few moments of time left to think. "Oh, forgive us for our Lousy way of life!" she urged to peep, but there was no more time left.

Someone has smashed the Louse and all her colleagues in a single step, thus finally and inevitably solving a question with a fate of all these... non-humans.

26.11.2010

## Point of view

"Excuse me, sir, do I correctly understand your claim that we all live under some surprising influence of two opposite and totally alien to us metaphysical powers, who are capable to affect our states of mind, thoughts, health and who were actually known to mankind since ancient centuries, yet knowledge of them has been transformed into something like children's fairy tale and ridiculous myth? I wonder – whether all of this is rather a product of your sick imagination and abnormal fantasy than a real-life state of affairs? I, thanks to my scientific background, is being more inclined to the second option because I don't see even a single reason of why your so beloved Divine would manifest itself in our infinitely troublesome world."

"The best way for demons to disappear from human sight is to convince them that demons never existed, right?"

"Would you please stop overstepping borders of what is normal and reasonable!"

"Earth mankind trespassed them a very long time ago. But this was one of the tactics of these forces of darkness – it's possible to convince people that they don't exist in one easy way: to create a certain social phenomenon, way of life or way of thinking, if you will, which would against own right take impudence to claim that it and only it has a monopoly for truth and is capable to lead masses of humans into general prosperity."

"I believed that you were a totally non-religious individual."

"And I am speaking about science now. We will address religion later on."

"Is that so? And how did science displeased you? Only thanks to its efforts today we all have so much."

"Nuclear and other weapons, nature which is ruined by wastes along with people dying of diseases in their reinforced concrete cages, right? So, they had to create such a social phenomenon, "new religion of mind", if you will, together with its devoted "apostles" and send it by a path extremely rational, materialistically practical, torn off and isolated voluntarily from everything that is "superfluous" and spiritual – not such a bad practice, so that people, having once started praying to their newborn "god",  haven't managed to get into inner sanctum – field of human spirit, monopoly for "saving" which so-called religions ones have already taken. Whether not, for this reason, official science has been trying to play dirty for many years – and tries to hide that simple and obvious for impartial observers fact that, having chosen false path earlier, nowadays it self-willingly came into an expected dead end and is standing behind a blank wall? And to keep claiming that it's just the end of all major discoveries and triumph of the human mind instead of a blank wall – is the wildest nonsense."

"And what do you suggest for the scientific community to do?"

"You can try to make a break in this wall with your forehead. Will make a service for a greater science that way like so many have done before you, having voluntarily given their live bodies for scientific experiments or having given dead ones against their will for the same purpose."

"Still desire to throw jokes at me, sir? Science, as we all know, requires victims."

"Beauty, as we all know, needs them too. The consequence of which is utter ugliness."

"Do you believe religion is much more attractive than science?"

"What became of modern religion – by no means. Parasitizing on aspirations of the human spirit to the Divine and primitivization of belief, mostly. Yet everyone walks where he prefers."

"Even if we assume that modern science is being unable to discover something invisible and inaccessible to it, including to prove the very existence of mentioned metaphysical powers from a scientific point of view..."

"'From a scientific point of view sounds quite reasonably'. For it's still only a small point which should make a long journey to become a line..."

"...Whether modern religion can brag of this knowledge at least?"

"Modern religion turned them into something like a myth, and idolaters often don't have the slightest idea of what important things are mentioned in still undistorted by them texts. Look, for example, on some of the icons painting Christ – and you shall see white wings behind his back. He is painted as the Angel who is leading armies of others, and for a due reason. As well as not accidental still remained prayers to Guardian Angels, as well as names of Archangels and some other important things. Those people who are filled with the poison of materialistic science aren't usually capable to understand that these facts reflect real-life reality more than a thousand and one theory, recognized in the scientific world as no less than "laws" of nature. And if you dare to tell modern religious followers about live Angels – many of them will consider you as mentally unstable."

"I have never seen any mentioned Angels in my entire life!"

 "...But that's a question of the point which you choose to view it, right?"

"All of this is yet another religious myth!"

"As well as your own thoughts. Forgive me, I wanted to say – their thoughts. They are not yours, right?"

"What do you mean by "not mine"? I keep thinking and, therefore, existing."

"This statement doesn't fully reflect objective reality, though not in that case. Take a look at your chaotically thinking mind – are you totally sure that it's you who is controlling it? You can't even make it go silent! Waves of incoming thoughts are jumping as if some stranger is pushing a handle of "thoughts radio" from one angle to another."

"Would you like to tell me that thoughts can be indoctrinated?"

"Well, now finally you seem to start comprehending of what powers sent "ingenious" scientific ideas for the invention of, say, different types of weapons. As well as, say, pharmaceutical drugs. As well as many of so-called "memes", starting from "live once, care not" and ending with "money doesn't smell". However, you can probably understand now what powers spoke through prophets, for instance. But whom people were listening to? The systematic extermination of mankind is being made with its own hands."

"Well, the reduction of the planet's population only promotes more rational distribution of natural resources among survived."

"Hoping to be among them? I am afraid that the preservation of your particular life is not in the list of priority tasks for dark powers. As well as the preservation of entire earth mankind."

"Hell with you, stop feeding fairy tales!"

"You just look around. It that a Paradise in your opinion?"

"But not a Hell at all, that's for certain! Progress is progressing, so to speak. Or do you fondly suggest me to believe that everything you have just told me is pure truth?"

"And this, my dear friend, entirely depends upon the correctness of your point of view..."

02.02.2013

## Thirtieth day

The thirtieth day...

Yes, the thirtieth day has passed since he has got here. Into his new home. HOME.

The frozen tongue refused to pronounce this painfully familiar and once causing an anxious delight and joy word. How unimaginably new it now sounded in consciousness!

Despair. Despair, dimming the mind. Tears – what about? Maybe of those long time gone and irrevocable days of simple man's happiness? Of sonorous men's voices and happy children's smiles? Of a united family, which he was eager to have?

"Father...". He has, actually, never heard this wonderful sound – and will never hear it now. NEVER. The mind gloatingly hinted that this is so – it can be no other way. But the heart, the heart, which have suffered so many torments and suffering – his heart refused to believe that. It always refused to trust in pain and grief. Always. Or... until the 30-days old events only?

And still... nevertheless, it's his new home for now, no matter how blasphemously this word would now sound. A street. Almost constantly locked up at night doors of buildings. City dumps, where it was seldom possible to find some sort of food...

"No, no, NO!! This cannot be with me, only not with me! Why, why, why?!"

Silence. Deadly silence. The silence of the night. Words have left a withered throat into a darkness of night and have died out in a far distance. There is no response. He will have to search for answers himself.

Then – weakened, wasted, with scars all over his body – traces of struggle against colleagues by misfortune and city's thugs, with a face, covered by purulent scabs, – he has fallen to the ground. He hasn't even noticed, how suddenly the earth approached and his body, having hit it with a dull sound, kept lying motionlessly...

***

...He did neither remember, nor know, how many time has passed. And, probably, didn't even want to. What's the reason? To find a livelihood and a lodging for the next night – were his needs not limited by this only?

Then he opened his eyes. Tried to move – and desperately screamed from a sharp pain and a bloody haze in his eyes. The hand, his right hand. The one, which has rescued him time and again in fights on dark alleys for a piece of bread, the one which helped him to sometimes open not too qualitatively made locks of city buildings – he felt it no more. Totally, completely. A bone fracture, a dislocation? Most probably a dislocation and a painful shock, which has followed it... That's good. Could be worse – much worse.

We will make it. We will survive, reason, – I tell you!

Hospital? What hospital are you suggesting me to go for, reason? And was it not you, my accidental witness, of how hundreds of people during those thirty days expelled me and threw me away from public transport, how teenagers mocked me angrily, how adults unfriendly mowed and how young girls turned away from me with such an expression on their faces, as if they have just seen the nastiest thing in their life? There is no place for me in the world of those ones. No more a place.

A-a-a-r-r-r-g-g-g-h-h... no, stop it! Only not those images, only not them! Memory, my obliging aunt who has been serving to me so right earlier, – what sort of malicious joke are you going to play with me?! Stop it, I beg you! I have already submitted to my fate! I have put up with it – do you hear me? I had!

Or... or not completely?

Questions, questions, questions... Questions, irritating both mind and heart. Lonely questions without answers. Servants of pain – spiritual anguish. A pain again – this time from a hand. That's not too much. That one will be gone.

"They, it's they who are guilty!" once again he wanted to growl spitefully.

Yes, it's them. Harmful businessmen, liars, rascals. They have cheated him, as well as hundreds like him. He did not remember all the details for now but firmly remembered one thing – they have got his apartment by a deceit. The fucked company, false agency! Bastards!

Stop. Only not rage. No more hatred. He was already tired of it, too tired already.

Thirty days... how much he has learned and understood during those thirty days!

With what contempt he looked at all these needy and unfortunate people earlier! How much arrogance and complacency was in his eyes, obscured by formal well-being. How many simple human requests he rejected, referring to a lack of time. A lack... now, seemingly, he has this time in surplus – but what sort of time... He even betrayed once – his close friend and the fellow worker. Wanted to earn money... Has earned. And his friend got to prison for financial frauds – tried to prove, that he was a fictitious person. If only he also knew, who did that...

"One has to pay for everything," he thought suddenly, "for all things made. To redeem own crimes." A cruel lesson, indeed. He was, however, cruel as well.

He stood up, looked around. He has come – has returned to his home... Not to himself, though, not to his home. He perfectly remembered what was his home for now. And nevertheless... something uncontrollably pushed him to enter this familiar front door, to feel house smells – for the last time in his life. He will not return to this building anymore.

And then, having thrown aside all cowardly and bitter thoughts, firmly pushed his fractured hand to a breast, he has moved on – started wandering to a front door of this house. The door slowly swung open and some married couple went out of the doors – probably on a walk. He made a jerk and approached the entrance.

The young girl made a wry mouth and whispered something to his beloved one's ear. The beloved one tried to strongly seize a man with a ridiculously bent and pressed to a breast hand, moving to a front door, but that man has suddenly whispered – "Only for a minute. It's my former home", – and a man's hand, almost ready to seize this nasty vagabond, has suddenly slowly dropped somehow, a flickering of understanding moved in his eyes for an instant and, having murmured "yes, certainly", he stood aside.

...Forward and upwards – to the third floor. Here it is, close and familiar... almost native. And who might be living in his apartment for now?

He listened. Somewhere behind a door, the dog was vigorously barking, possibly meeting his master. Somewhere a child was crying. Somewhere people were swearing. And only once during all that half an hour that he was standing, having leaned against a wall and remembering the former life, somewhere from above a many-voiced and joyful laughter has reached his ears.

He came back a short time after. Away from his home. Or straight to it?

The ground floor... mailboxes, similar to cast bunkers. To look in? But who can write him? Who?

And still, he looked into it – in a box with the large and bold number "30". The thirtieth day... the thirtieth apartment...

There was only one letter – with his initials on it. With his! He looked at its date. Yes, it was brought twenty-nine days ago – the apartment was still owned by him that day. He has overrun its text.  At first, the bewilderment, then amazement, a smile, and a pain were reflected in his face. However, if somebody has accidentally seen his face this instant – he would accept its expression for some sort of predatory grin.

Not trusting his own eyes, he looked through the text lines once again. Everything is correct. His mind was still serving him well. There is no mistake possible.

Large letters and words "notice", "fortune", a name of his sister, living abroad, and a sum of one hundred thousand dollars were the last things that lived in his consciousness that day. His legs gave away and he fell down, unconscious.

A rising sun could be seen in a building's windows...

01.01.2004

## You came too late

Yet I don't want to die, my friend

In clocks of life, there is still sand,

There is no way for saturation

For I do thirst for inspiration.

Yes, I know – time cannot be turned back. Yes, I know – mistakes of the past cannot be reversed. Yes, I know – how I was wrong for all my life and became truly right only right now. I love you how I did not love anyone in this world. And I loved much.

People deceived and betrayed me. They destroyed my illusion of own loneliness for short durations, only to let me feel again, how illusionary were my conceptions of it as of illusion. They loved and hated med simultaneously, for their love is so much as hate. And I loved them even for that. When a painful silence falls upon you like a heavy press, you even start to rejoice to a shout from own pain.

I truly loved you – loved you like no other woman in this immensely dim world. I was sort of entertainment for them – a toy, which they threw away with pleasure the time it bored them, not wishing to understand, that even toy has a living heart. And in this amusing game they, almost like me, tried to escape from comprehension that sometime they too will be left alone with themselves – and along with you.

Perhaps, I love you for that too – that you have always been near me imperceptibly, no matter wherever and whoever I was, in whatever epoch and time my path was forged. You, probably, don't know about it yet, but thereby you also invisibly aided me – helped me not to lose in this false vanity of life. You have appeared to be the truest and devoted of all the women, known to me. You have become your full antithesis for me, actually.

Yes – I see, I feel, how passionately do you desire to turn and face all these big and little ones, stepped over the border of their conscience, how deeply you want to shout to them all, that it's only you, it's only you, my beloved one, have never betrayed and deceived me, that only you always treated me so gently and carefully, as no other living being is ever capable of. For only you know, what is an inescapable heart pain and only you have a cure for it.

But even you were often late.

I was young and full of strength once, and it seemed to me that I could do almost anything – and now it seems that I have sunk into all this almost completely. I hoped for trust and trusted love once – but love disappointed me and thus I ceased to trust them both. I have already done everything I wanted to once, and still need to do something I cannot make ever. You could be with a young me, but time and again you decided to come too late. Or, perchance, have you willingly waited for me?

Nevertheless, we are together at last to become one. Two halves of a single whole, two parts of broken jar, which has already lost too much moisture of life. No one is able to separate us, the only true lovers on this guilty earth, initially intended for each other from each new birth.

I accept you again for you are infinitely many-sided, for each death is always followed by the new birth. Only therefor I accept you – to wash off all pain of the past, and become living once again, for I have been struggling for it for so long already.

Hi, my death. I welcome thee, oh my rebirth!

09.09.2008 

## God's logic is non-human

"And just what he can do at all in such conditions?"

"That's up to him. Let him work," the answer came from behind the Wall.

"Do you realize that this is simply impossible?" I objected to my invisible interlocutor. "How he will have to implement all this?"

"However he can."

"And where is the logic in all of that?!"

"Everyone has their own logic. It's not for you to understand," came the reply.

***

"On this bitter and mourning day, we all gathered together to honor the bright memory of the man whom we sincerely and fervently loved. The man whose life was cut so suddenly. The man who gave us hope that life does not end up with death. The man who has lived in this world for so little – brief twenty-seven years, each one from which was a year of desperate and daring struggle for life, year of devotion and heroism. The man whose young age seemed to hide behind many more years of experience and wisdom. And even if in these ever-lasting minutes he is not standing together with us, but the memory of him will live on forever in our hearts. We – those who knew him – will never be able to forget. We cannot forget his words, his forever young shining with optimism eyes, which gave us hope in the days of our sorrows. We can't forget him and we won't forget him. May he rest in peace, and may his journey to the world of eternal life be bright. Amen."

***

"So, doctor, how's our baby? Is everything ok?"

"I am afraid that I bear bad news for you."

"What? What's wrong with him? Please, don't delay, tell us already, for God's sake!"

"In the serum of the newborn, we discovered the AIDS virus."

***

"And what are my prospects? Won't surgery help?"

"No. It will only delay the disease for a year or two."

"And then?"

"And then you'll have to find a cane and a dog – if you still want to live by that time."

"How much time do I have in my possession?"

"About five years or so."

***

"Tell me, tell me, is my boy, my Pasha still alive?!"

"Out of fifteen members, both Pavel Volkov and Alexander Gromov did not return from reconnaissance operation. We have every reason to consider them killed in action. We share your grief."

***

"Their father abandoned them when he was about two years old."

"And what about the mother?"

"His mother died of tuberculosis three years after this. The boy died a week later."

"Does his father know about all of this?"

"No, we decided not to inform him. He emigrated to another state almost immediately after the divorce and we were not engaged in searching for him."

***

"Yes, they crashed into each other right in front of my very eyes! That car got right under the wheels of this truck. I barely even noticed how it started to whirl – I saw as it was kicked in the ribs, already without a roof. By that time, as I understand it, all the passengers were already dead. My God, that was so horrible!"

***

"And what about the others? How did they get settled, how're their lives?"

"Elena now works as an accountant in a bank. Natasha became a reporter. Zhenya is a journalist. You already know everything about boys."

"And what about Maria? Maria Smirnova, remember? Always was such a cheerful, joyful person?"

"Oh, you don't know, do you?"

"What? What should I know about?"

"She died in a car accident a year ago or so. I thought you knew."

"She... died?"

"Yes... people die from life at times. I thought you were aware of this news. You loved her?"

"Loved..."

***

 "Yes, perhaps, I do not yet fully understand this logic. Yes, I may be stupid, and blind, and all that, but why do you let the best members of our race die in peace – the ones helping your cause?! Why don't you let them live, why do you let mostly parasites and killers to roam in this world? Why do they keep living when those who truly should have lived are now rotting in their own graves?! What kind of inhuman logic is that?!" I cried to my invisible interlocutor, standing behind the Wall.

The interlocutor sighed sadly.

"I think you won't understand. This is the Experiment."

"What kind of bloody experiment is that?! Where, to whom, for what? We don't need your experiments upon us!"

"We will take best souls. We need only them. It's a selection. You must come to peace with its forms."

"We won't! Do you hear me? Whoever you are, we will not accept it! Will not accept!" I shouted with last remnants of my power, trying to overcome the noise from the surging wind.

And then the wall of black crystal suddenly cracked, the sky lit up with fire and the brightest light coming from sky stroke my eyes, blinding. The last thing that I managed to see before this raging light deprived me of my sight, was a tall man dressed in dazzling-white clothes with his eyes glowing with the very same light, the one who had the voice of my recent interlocutor:

"Mortal! From now on, you will lead other people for thousands of years, helping them understand the beauty of our Experiment, but you will be unable to do it yourself. You will teach and inspire them – and behold how we gradually take them away from you. You will love them – and observe how their death takes this love away with it. You will be immortal the way you wanted to be, and you will curse that immortality. Perhaps then, after these few thousands of years, you will realize your mistake. You will understand that we are not subject to your logic... And only then the way to the truth will be opened before you. Now go and live, immortal Guardian Angel! Your new life has just begun..."

27.01.2006

## Who is Who

Certificate

Issued to: citizen Who.

Purpose: to show everyone, "who is Who".

LLC "Fools of the planet" accuses citizen Who of:

1. Sitting on a bough.

2. Talking nonsense and just laugh.

3. Clearing the brain's trash and stuff.

The present certificate also confirms that citizen Who:

1. Not a donkey.

2. Not a goat.

3. Maybe, weirdo.

4. Fool or bot.

5. He's the target for attack.

P.S. He will crack!

Mr. Who is charged with 159484838934848454 crimes directly or indirectly committed by the entire LLC "Fools of the planet" community throughout the history of their life on the planet Earth. The community itself refuses to bear any responsibility in a sly-voluntary manner.

Mr. Who can challenge the legality of this certificate's issuance by a personal interview with each of the hundreds of millions of members of the community. The decision to cancel their who-cursing each member of the community takes on their own after the conversation. The cancellation of the specified label, received by Mr. Who, is possible only with a one-hundred percent of revision by each member of the community his opinion about Mr. Who (which is impossible due to elementary statistics).

The crucifixion of Mr. Who is one of the methods of punishment considered by the community.

The certificate was issued to Mr. Who in absentia, and his consent to its acquisition is not required (and this makes us really happy).

Hoo hoo! Yahoo!

LLC "Planet Earth"

"Fools of the planet"

17.02.2013

## In the prison for a quarter of century

He opened his eyes. Both sight and hearing were coming back to normal, very-very slowly – but were returning. For many days he has still been recovering... A push of hand, a sharp pain in the broken knuckle – and he has risen. He is alive and he will sustain – despite everything.

Despite dregs in eyes and broken knuckle, acknowledging itself with a pain during each movement of the hand. Despite hateful shouts and most severe abuse, flowing around. Despite the threats from his "neighbors", which they intended to put in action if he doesn't share his part of that skilly that was brought to them so that they haven't starved to death. Despite the methodical and giving a ring on an iron floor footsteps of the approaching guard. Despite the sun which he hasn't seen for such a long time... only the weak light beam of which he had a chance to notice in the mornings – a light, hardly passing through strong iron plates, sealing windows in this stronghold of grief. In this stronghold of sorrow – and sometimes, only sometimes – repentance.

"Chumbrik, fuck you! We'll cut you on giblets! Do you hear me, bastard?! You'll lick our heels, bough!" A shout came somewhere from a distant chamber and sank in the silence.

Resisting ones weren't welcomed there, as well as loving ones, that's why similar people were almost absent in these cells. Except for local authorities and those who could prove with own blood that they are worthy of respect – for only the force did worth something here. A whole year was required for him to prove own strength in fights without rules, ones, "accidentally" overlooked by that supervisor that was slowly coming through a corridor, rattling with chamber keys... or, to be more precise, these battles were completely ignored by a prison guard. One week ago there was his last fight and after that, he was finally left alone. They have withdrawn from him like from an insuperable and indestructible stronghold.

"Dinner!" a loud peal of a voice filled a premise.

Now they will be fetched skilly bowls – gray-greenish liquid with a disgusting taste. However, a piece of bread was applied to this liquid, and that was already fine. This should suffice for approximately five-six hours. And then once again something similar will be brought to them so that they don't die from hunger. And so it goes on for a day, a month, a year... Nineteen years – nineteen long years he should remain here... nineteen-twentieth of his term.

Here comes the inspector. Now a food would be brought, he will sate himself with this pity piece of bread and a bowl of liquid stinking of slops – and feel easier. His organism will take many days to heal its wounds... It will take nineteen years for him until a day of freedom finally comes.

Here comes a meal. A bowl was pushed to him through a cutout crack in the bottom of a chamber's door. For some reason, the inspector continued standing, though it was already the time for him to go to new chambers. One second, two, three, five...

"Prisoner Skalov, your wife has come to visit you. We will guide you to a meeting room."

Simple human words, which have lifted his spirit on pleasure tops. It was such an immense joy for him now – to once again meet a close person in this house of loneliness, loneliness among hundreds and hundreds of people. His prison cell was slowly opened – the guard immediately pressed him against the wall and started quickly putting on handcuffs. He didn't resist.

"Do your job, guys. It's your work. Play your part," thoughts have flown in his head, remaining unexpressed. And what for? Prisoners aren't talked to – they are given orders and are compelled to their execution. Almost like in the army, yet worse. For disobedience – a bitting to semi-death or to the death – that's unimportant. A phrase in the official report will state – "has committed suicide" – in a chamber without even a single sharp object. It was possible to commit suicide there only having broken one's head against the wall...

He was moving through a corridor, led by prison guards, and his soul was singing in joy, a joy for the first time for many many days. For how truly long he hasn't felt that sensation...

"Luydochka, my beloved! Dear one, how did I miss you!"

"Pasha, dear! Thank God, you are still alive! What's wrong with you? Have you battled again? Oh, fighter, when you will stop these fights at last?! They are going to kill you one day!"

"I cannot do that, Luyda, I cannot. I had no right to refuse a fight. You know – I wouldn't survive that way..."

"Pasha, dear, I beg of you – remain alive. Dear, beloved... if they kill you, Pasha, I wouldn't survive that. Dear, nice, don't leave me alone, keep yourself live – I beg you! I beg! I love you, Pasha!"

She nestled face to a plastic bulletproof fence that divided them and started crying. His beloved woman, his significant other... She was crying and her tears slowly did flow by a glass wall, leaving a pure transparent trace. He nestled his own face to a transparent wall too and was looking at her. A security guard, observing their meeting, has moved forward at first – according to the rules talking ones should keep the distance of at least two meters from a dividing wall – but then suddenly gaging somehow and slowly inclined a head downwards. Some people remained men even here.

And then they kissed transparent plastic, imaging as if they were kissing each other. Scattered hands and touched a transparent window, trying to embrace each other. They were kissing and embracing each other – and couldn't do that. Have been divided with the impenetrable wall from now on for a long period of twenty years from that very familiar day...

"Do you remember that day, Pasha? I still cannot forgive myself for it – for you. Unable to forgive me for your destiny..."

"Stop it, Luyda. I have chosen that way myself, and whether I could choose differently? I have made that choice myself – and I am ready to bear a full responsibility for that. I have killed a man. I am guilty. I should be punished."

Indeed, they both remembered that day, remembered very clearly, each and every detail – in spite of the fact that more than a year has already passed since that moment. And nineteen more should pass before it will be possible to expel it definitively and forever forget. Like a horror, a dream, a delusion.

Which, unfortunately, wasn't a delusion at all...

Images slowly recurred in memory. That memorable day which has given a start to his new life here – after a short judicial proceeding and sentence. Like bright flashes are these images. Sparkling and fading away...

They were returning back home from a holiday on foot... These guys jumped out of nowhere. There were two of them. One was bearing a knife in hand, the second one possessed a pistol.

"Hey, you, stand still! Drop purses on the ground, quickly! Rings, earrings, throw everything! Quickly, I'm telling ya, if you dunno want to get a bullet in ya head!" a robber armed with a pistol cried out, having set it on them. A second one ran up from behind and seized his wife, putting a knife to her throat. The one with a pistol was probably bluffing, but the second one definitely did not.

"The young lass doesn't look bad! I'll have to fuck her a bit later. Don't twitch ye, darling! It won't take long, hah..."

A scared children's shout of his wife, with a storming roar rushing into his ears...

He hesitated no longer. A blood of the soldier, who has survived the Afghan war, was boiling in him... He ceased to hear any longer... he ceased to feel the surroundings. Only the sensation, that strange sensation of the tested and survived fighter, allowing one to distinguish the incoming danger, only it has become his guide in these minutes...

Like bright flashes are these instants...

A kick – a pistol, pointing to him, flies off aside. Another blow – and the rogue holding a gun falls down and bent on the ground. A short amazement on the face of the second guy, who has already started undressing his wife and put aside his knife from her throat for a while. Here the knife slowly moves back to her throat again... Jump. A hand holding a knife intercepted in the air. All three fall to the ground.

"B-i-i-i-i-i-i-t-t-t-t-t-c-c-c-c-c-h-h-h-h-h!" a shout, picked up by air.

A flashing iron once more – the guy managed somehow to get away a second knife. His hand moved for interception of a strike... Too late.

A blow. A desperate shout of his wife, full of agony and pain.

"N-o-o-o!" his shout of despair.

A blow. The guy screams from pain, one of his knives flows off from hands. Fighting on the ground. They have swept away, having seized each other. His wife remained to lie motionlessly.

Ten seconds, twenty...

The guy was trying to stick his knife into him, their hands were struggling for life... A blow. Attacking one finally managed to reach him with the edge of a knife. He twisted from pain but hasn't ceased fighting.

Thirty seconds... Drops of blood, exuding from his wound and generously watering the ground...

Capture. Procollar of a hand holding a weapon – he wanted to beat a knife off from enemy's hands. The blade was slowly turning towards lying below him attacker. Now it will become possible to take the hand away and beat out a knife from opponent's hands... Without a weapon, the attacker ceases to be a fighter. Let them escape – he is not even going to pursue them.

But the guy suddenly screamed something and started turning sideways, trying to dump him from himself.

A rattle. Heart-rending agonal rattle. Turned edge was stuck in the robber's breast when he started turning over.

"Bas... tard," almost silent words, which he has heard. And then silence has reigned.

Only a guy, recently holding a pistol, was still slowly creeping, and the one with knives was lying still... But he didn't want to kill any of the two. had totally no desire... only to disarm.

He picked up a pistol and run up to his wife. Has kneeled. Breathing... that means that she's alive. Then he looked on a wound – a wound was on the right side under the rib, a blood was slowly pouring from it. Good, not deadly. She has to survive, she must!

Then he picked her up, propped up on himself and slowly started going forward, bearing her. He has to pass quite a little. To leave this lane and enter a populous street, and there he'll be aided – he must be! – by others. No, he matters not! It's she who must survive. And he will manage it somehow – he has overcome even greater wounds! And the pistol must be destroyed as well...

Picture changed. Now he was standing in the court, listening to own sentence – a sentence for murder.

He is a murderer. Even protecting himself and his beloved – he's still a murderer. Even carrying a necessary self-defense – he has killed a man. But according to a court's decision no self-defense has ever taken place. A second survived attacker has informed law enforcement department of the accident – naturally, the way he wanted it to look like – there were no witnesses for a fight. And even words of his wife and her wound weren't proof enough – she was unconscious according to her own words and didn't see a final part of the fight. And the wound could have been made by her husband as well, instead of the attacker – especially if his fingerprints left on the knife has to be taken into account.

So did the court conclude – and has made its decision. Imprisonment for a long term of twenty years. For such a long period, for which he has to remain here, in this stronghold of grief and sometimes – only sometimes – repentance...

Images have gone out. He was standing close to his wife once again, and she was still crying – and thus he calmed her. Assured, that everything will finally turn out fine, that this nightmare will end soon and he once again will meet her – his beloved – this time being free. Then he smiled – didn't want her to see him despaired. And had no wish to despair himself.

They continued talking for quite a while – until the security guard hasn't demanded a termination of their conversation. Then they were separated until a next meeting. She will once again come to him as soon as she's allowed to as soon as a minimal time span between visiting will pass – approximately in two months. She will come once again – his second half, his beloved, his personal sun. And he will come as well into her world, after these longest twenty years. He will come when a wall, separating them, will turn to ashes. And nothing forevermore will divide them!

This is worthy of his return! A world behind this fence is worthy of entering into it once again. And he will return back to start a new life – in the bright and solar new world. After almost a quarter of a century, he will embrace this solar world – and smile. And rejoice the living.

30.12.2004

## Thingy

"Pssss... come over here!" a voice came out of bushes.

"Stand where you are no matter whoever you are!" Ivan almost jumped up from surprise, having somehow inexplicably managed to rotate him in the jump for two hundred sixty-seven and a half degrees in a direction to a source of potential danger.

"And what should the flying ones do – stop right where they are flying?" a reasonable question came out of bushes once again.

"Whoever is here, show yourself!" the hero, for many yet unknown, and for us already named, continued making his proposition.

"Hey, stop being afraid of me already!" someone hiding in bushes soothingly noticed. "Look, you've stopped on your way, but is that's a big deal? You have been wandering through this local forest aimlessly nevertheless. And here you've got a nice chance to chit-chat with somebody heart-to-heart... with me, for instance."

"And where might you be, I wonder?" the brave one, who has already recovered from a first shock, wasn't appeased in the curiosity. "You may turn out to be a terrible and horrific monster, trapping lonely travelers on their way to people, you know?"

"Oh, pardon me, what's the point for me to be nasty!" a sniff came somewhere sideways this time. "Who will covet us in this case? Besides, we are not awful, but peaceful and truly democratic, to say so. We bring happiness, struggle for human rights. A freedom of choice, relations, conscience. And so on, and so forth."

"So, you are a female?  A representative, of so to say, fair sex?" Ivan was taken aback.

"Well, fair for someone, and nasty for another. It all depends here on the level of reason, as they say."

"From what?" Ivan didn't understand.

"Well... it's such a thing – a level. And the reason – what's the reason? Simply a profanation!" a giggling came out of the next tree. "Where were you going here, I wonder?"

"On affairs!" Ivan muttered. "I am not going to tell strangers everything, especially having not seen them eye to an eye. Maybe, they don't even possess the eyes?"

"Maybe they don't..." a reasonable notice doubled itself. "And, maybe, ones such as me don't even require it."

"Hey, you, eyeless monster! I am going fire at you an arrow from my bow, and where it will strike ye – either to an eye or some other body spot – is a minor matter!" barked Ivan and got behind bow and arrows.

"Well, you are not some sort of cupid to stick all passers-by with arrows of love, are you? And besides... what if it turns out that I am that wonderful frog-princess, whom you are required to kiss to further live on together with her in a happiness and consent till death itself won't separate you? Wouldn't you really want to try it out, m-m-m-m?" the voice of female stranger was getting more and more tender and viscous.

"All right," Ivan finally agreed. "I will always have the time to make a frog for needles from you," he summarized. "But you must be leaving your bushes hideout strictly one by one, and keep in mind – I am holding you on sight!"

"Oh, just look at what courageous and brave companion I have found! I am almost burning whole from desire!" stranger girl sang with pleasure and, finally, left her bush-like hiding place.

"A-a-a... o-o-o... u-u-u-u... e-r-r-r... you are such..." mumbled Ivan.

"Beautiful, huh? It has been so since my very birth."

"That's not the word..."

"And what sort of word would it be, m-m-m?" mysterious acquaintance continued smiling, gracefully pacing before Ivan.

"Mine – that's the word!"

"Well... maybe yours as well. There is time for everything... By the way, my name is Thingy."

"Thingy? What a beautiful name!" Ivan exclaimed. "Ivan!" he presented himself.

"And to you, Ivan!" Thingy smiled.

"What do you mean 'and to you'?" he misunderstood.

"And to you, I am pretty as well, as I see."

"Yes... you are all such... sparkling... such... unusual... thing... many, probably, don't even possess such ones..."

"Yes, yes," Thingy tenderly agreed. "I know. That's me. And you were going to shoot me at first, my rascal!" she threatened calmly.

"Well, I had no idea that you were such... unusual. I have thought that you are probably some sort of marsh witch that will enchant me and then drag off into her den."

"Well, what's the point for me to enchant you? All in all, soon you will come running for me yourself... darling," Thingy continued singing sweetly, beating about the bush round Ivan. "Where will you, people, go without us, Thingies, – what do you cost without us, oh consumers of ours?" she made a purring sound slightly more silently.

"And can I... touch you?" Ivan offered bashfully.

"Yes, you can, touch me if you dare..." Thingy allowed. "You can even take me on hands..."

"So soon?" Ivan was shocked. "And shouldn't we before that...?"

"And what should we wait for?" Thingy questioned. "I do clearly see that you desire to have me... so take me, have no hesitation. The more you will desire me, the more a person from a small letter you will keep becoming..."

"Perhaps, a person from a capital letter?" Ivan was confused.

"Well, no way!" Thingy sniffed. "To be a one from a capital letter you have to deserve it first. We, Thingies, are not made to make you as such. We are for different sort of whims," she added.

"And is that not... dangerous?" Ivan carefully asked, slightly touching Thingy's body.

"Well... maybe you'll get stricken with a lightning the first time," Thingy smiled. "And afterward... however, what the reason for you, people, in that 'afterward'? You have to enjoy life to the full, not even seriously reflecting on consequences, right? To gather in hands as many as possible ones such as me, Thingy. Especially if they are going to you on bails... And besides, to possess lots of beautiful Thingies today is a sort of a style and fashion!"

"Well... I don't know... something here is... somehow..." Ivan breathed heavily and started to doubt, having drawn his hand away from Thingy.

"What, have you been struck with electricity?" Thingy purred. "After you get the first charge, it will be easier from that on. I am going to call my girlfriends afterward to make you a company. You will caress, care and cherish them more than humans for your entire life, and look, the life has already passed. I have thought up a fine plan, right?" said Thingy and nestled on Ivan with all her body.

"Well... I... this... that... you know..."

"Do you want me to call for my girlfriend?" said Thingy without unhooking her hands from Ivan's neck.

"What sort of girlfriend? What for?"

"Oh, you will see that soon enough!" Thingy replied. "Come here, yo-ho-ho!" she started singing, and right there somewhere from bushes a second not less mysterious lass came out, being, probably, even more, dazzling and shining than Thingy herself.

"Hogwash!" the girlfriend of Thingy presented herself. "Girlfriend of Thingy."

"What the reason do we need her?" Ivan frowned.

"Oh, darling, how don't you understand?! Don't you know that every modern glamour star-aspiring man must always have his personal hogwash, which would blind each and every one on all creative parties with her relaxedness and spontaneity!"

"And how's that?" Ivan didn't get it.

"Oh, like that!" said Hogwash and, having undressed herself in one instant, settled on the ground in painful expectation of unhealthy man's attention. "Photograph me!" she ordered-asked.

"What sort of fine Hogwash you've got, Ivashka!" Thingy giggled. "A Hogwash above all the things. With such a one it's not a shame to enter a high society!"

"How creative I have thought it up, yes?" Hogwash laughed, putting on her clothes after a short-term posing in public.

"Oh, you are such an ingenious one, my friend! You alone will suffice to enchant lots of Ivans!"

"Legion is their name!" Hogwash joyfully exclaimed.

"And not a consumer less," Thingy winked. "Well, should we be going to people right now?"

"Let's go!" Hogwash agreed. "But first let me kiss you fellow as well so that further on he can think of no one else, but us only. Ch-m-m-m-o-o-o-k-k!"

***

"Ch-p-o-k!" said an icicle that has fallen from a roof. "S-s-s-s-dzin!" she added, having scattered in one thousand small splinters. "Ch-m-m-m-o-o-k!" a second one echoed in response before accepting the same sad fate.

"Ivan, stop kissing a pillow already, rise up and help me!" a female voice ringed in apartment's corridor.

"What a terrible thing I've dreamed of!" Ivan thought. "For how long have I slept?" and he decided to say this last thought of his aloud in a faint hope that somewhere there, in a corridor, somebody will finally give a response to his question of metaphysical importance.

"You have almost overslept our joint trip to a supermarket, dear husband!" a response came from over there. "And after all, we have agreed even yesterday that you are going to buy me a pair of dresses on my choice and a heap of other different baubles and thingies."

"Is that some sort of morning thing?" Ivan was stunned. "What a nasty thing! It's necessary to give up with this infinite shopping!" he resolutely came to a resolution.

"And where is that are you going?" a husband's wife interrogatively stared on him, getting on a coat over a pajama.

"Into the bank!" Ivan reported. "Giving my credit card over bail. It's that sort of their new service, 'get out of consumer credit servitude', you know. A thing of all the thingies!"

14.03.2012

## Evolution

"Hi, dad! Tell me, please, something about the evolution!"

"Of evolution? You mean that something, which is the engine of progress?"

"Dad, mind you! It's the science which is now sort of an engine of that evolution, and evolution is something... that was before us. We are supposed to live here for quite a while, millions of years, if they don't lie to us in schools. Sort of evolving here, apparently."

"Right you are, son, we have almost evolved up to a threat of mutual mass destruction already. Or progressed. So... what exactly did you want to learn of that, what's the name, evolution?"

"Just a couple of questions, dad. Because when I started asking them our teacher, she stared at me so spitefully that I have almost lost my tongue during that moment. And, well, gave birth to a bad mark, so that I stop asking silly questions henceforth. She said that it's anti-scientifically."

"Well, sonny, at present everything, not fitting itself into such inconsistent scientific picture of the world, is called anti-scientific. That's the exact reason why we are, e-r-m, have been so promptly scientifically and progressively evolving, that's it..."

"Well, dad. Today at a lesson of biology the teacher was telling us that I as well as you and all-all people of the world have progressed from a monkey, and at first life was born in the ocean and after that moved to a land, and that all animals have been evolving for a long long time, periodically falling in mutations for a better effect and, well, finally mutated up to their current state, or so they say. That the first-living organisms have arisen from the ocean..."

"From the ocean, but not that one of which they are presently thinking. Mutations, you say?"

"Yep, father, mutations! Terrible force, that's it, the engine of the evolution... Listen, explain please at first to me how that did happen, that fishes have crept out onto a coast of the ocean, aye? Have they grown feet themselves or what? And why not wings at once – that would be so much more convenient that way, right? I feel it with my bones!"

"Well, wings had no chance to appear there, they couldn't be grown from fins, right? And feet... feet have grown, gradually. Hundred thousands of years have been passing; extremities have been gradually growing and have finally grown, at last. A gradual evolutionary process, or sort of. Most likely."

"Wait, dad! Fishes do not live for millions of years. How did they even manage to grow these extremities gradually? Once jumped on the coast in mass quantities, looked around themselves with grin smiles, noticed how great it would be to live on the land instead of water and decided to grow themselves feet, to be able to run once, or started to grow back their fins to be able to creep at least? And then they surely jumped back from the coast into the ocean and told to the rest of their cowardly comrades of that marvelous new world, lying around their feet... fins?"

"Those born to creep will never swim. Well, perhaps, these were some special, most courageous fishes. They have jumped all over the coast and safely jumped back to the sea, have kept these images and actions in their genetic memory, and all the rest of generations could take advantage on this newly-acquired knowledge. Probably, well, these were one of a kind heroic fishes. Trailblazers, if it's possible to say so."

"Silly ones of some sort... Wasn't an entire ocean enough for them? Listen... and how's that – in genetic memory? Did new generations of fishes devour, to say so, their dead ancestors and were instantly "enlightened" with this new knowledge?"

"Well, dunno know. Probably, there still was some mechanism of transfer of the new information between representatives of one kind of live beings. Probably, it still exists."

"Well, and how did they manage to grow their feet "gradually", aye? At first a half of foot has grown, fish has noticed that it's, surely, a good sign, but does not allow one to jump or at least creep on the ground, and gills still disturbed her, and, well, transferred into the future her "message" to the descendants to be engaged in self-improvement from the very birth... I mean while still being caviar?"

"Probably, afterward they began to be born as such, with fins-feet. So that it would be easier for them to walk on the ground."

"And how did they manage to swim in that case? Or did they specifically forget how to swim for the sake of creeping?"

"Well, I have no idea, sonny. But that's what the official evolutionary theory of live organisms is stating... and who are we to reject it completely?"

"Yeah, my teacher in school told me almost the same way! To tell the truth, I asked her the next question after that... so well, let's say they have even somehow managed to affirm themselves on the land... but why not all of them? After all, if it's so nice living on the ground under the sun, why then the part of these most different sea organisms hasn't even dared to go hand-in-hand with colleagues? Has the genetic memory of some of them suddenly died off and mass amnesia took place or were they so coward that had not even a slightest desire to follow their "big brothers"?"

"Probably, sonny, there was no more need for any more of them to leave the ocean – there were enough of those who have already performed that act."

"Yeah, sure, and overland creatures have, of course, transferred the "message" to their sea colleagues – hey, stop your crawling outside of water, morons, there is no more place for the rest of you under the sun."

"Yeah, I do agree, that sounds quite silly. But followers of Darwin have not thought up anything other up to now."

"I still don't understand much, dad! Take, for example, the following aspect – how did these overland beings then manage to grow themselves wings? Gradually, plumelet after a plumelet and bone after a bone? They, probably, at first tried to jump and jump from the ground – and have finally jumped to a state when they could fly up and soar, yeah?"

"Well, some sort of mutations can happen there from time to time. It was that way and then – voila! – an entire new wing has grown all of a sudden due to change of genes under the influence of external factors of the environment."

"Dad... do you even believe that yourself, huh? What's that – external factors? Is that when someone scary pursues you, wanting to gobble up, and suddenly wings are born from fear instead of former feet? Or did a radiating infection took place there a very long time ago, or the sun suddenly started to shine somewhat special? And, hey, dad, don't you think that if the level of mutations is so low, it resembles more a sorting-out process, instead of an evolutionary one? As if someone made an experiment on a group of animals, tried something, it hasn't turned out, and they ceased to continue in that direction? And, besides, there are some unusual animals... penguins, for instance, duck-bills – did they over-mutated?"

"Well, mutations is a terrible force, indeed. Not even amnesia, but even death can occur after these mutations... gradually, that's it. It turns out that we are all mutants of some kind for now to a certain degree."

"Dad, explain to me one more thing... Why are these – how are they called? – mammals, are considered more evolutionary and "advanced" in their development, to say so, than all fishes, amphibious, bacteria, viruses? After all, even named viruses can destroy these mammals in no time! Who even dared to define which "kingdom" of animals came from which one, aye? After all, they have still coexisted together... Are they to be considered an unfinished, "stuck" branch of evolution then?"

"It turns out to be that way. But who actually knows? Possibly, we along with monkeys are the evolutionary vanguard of this world? And the rest of animals do promptly catch up with us, hurry, enviously looking in our eyes as if saying, "We wanna be like you are, teach us, kind ones!"

"It turns out to be a planet of monkeys, dad! Well, we were told even that way that a man came out from a monkey, which was improved by hard work, being given elements of true human-like reason... Some such. Yet there is one thing which I still cannot comprehend – why do modern monkey like the one we observed yesterday in a zoo not turn in us, huh? After all, for how many millions of years has a man been living along with them – to a zero effect. And no work helps them... As if they all missing something vital to finally turn into a man."

"Well, on the other hand, sonny, that should be considered an advantage, I guess. Just imagine what could happen if some sort of monkey was presented with a small suitcase with buttons to manage ballistic missiles with nuclear warheads? We had no chance to speak even of a planet of monkeys that way!"

"Yep, father, that's right. From time to time I have a sensation that it was not monkeys who have ascended to men, but some men descended downwards to monkeys – with no way back. Sort of a point of no return."

"Well, that would be an involution that way, son. And we are supposed to be talking only of evolution, right? Of all these strange scientific theories, containing one thousand and one contradiction..."

"Alla Zinaidovna would surely reward you with a lowest possible mark for these heretical thoughts with no delay! And would probably add that you have very little intellectually evolved."

"Well, I am no more afraid of such turn of events, sonny. I have already, so to say, tormented and washed in this educational system – and now have to make sure that no other man will do the same with no thoughts and questions of their own. And after all, you know, I would not refuse to gain wings like these "lesser" birds. It's somewhat much more convenient to live with wings, you know..."

"Flying everywhere, hitting nobody, right? And all the sky is ours?"

"And don't you forget of the clouds! You know, I have just been thinking that... maybe... maybe all this magnificent nature variety, among which we are living, is truly being projected and implemented by someone... someone incredibly powerful and still invisible and imperceptible for many men? How do you think, oh my young biologist?"

"Everything is possible, father!"

13.09.2011

## Expert

"I am the Expert!" proclaimed the false expert. "I know everything on this subject, have no doubt of that. Well, it will be even better if you don't doubt my words at all, for it won't lead to anything good anyway. Is everything clear to everyone?"

"Expert, expert! You know everything, we believe you!" cried the Crowd. "Here's your medal!"

"I thank you, Crowd," false expert smiled indulgently. "Hang it up on my neck, quicker. Wow, how heavy is that one! Yes, truly hard is the way of a true Expert."

"Tell us of what you have learned about, oh Expert," insisted the Crowd. "I too desire to become an Expert like you."

"I guess that will hardly happen!" false Expert spat his words out. "Only singles are capable to become Experts, and you are more like a set. Your role is only to listen to such Experts as I am, award them with medals, honor, and respect."

"I am ready to listen to your words, Expert, I am all ears! Tell me what my own opinion is, I am simply obliged to have it! In our hard times, everyone must have his own opinion, even crowds..."

"All right," false Expert grinned, "then stay right here and listen! I learned all the truth about N, that's a pure truth! Well, maybe not totally all and not so much of the truth, but, because I am an Expert, and you are some pitiful insignificant crowd, you will take it all for granted anyway."

"That's your truth!" the Crowd burst out in exclamations. "Take us with naked words, relieve us from torments of reason and self-learning, take away our freedom to be Men!"

"Your truth is a falsehood, my truth is a true truth!" false Expert shouted. "For many years I have been studying this difficult subject, so I won't bother you, my poor Crowd, with all really magnificent and harmonious logic of calculations and arguments, all magic elegance of the intellectual analysis and all creative component of this creativity..."

"You speak to difficult for us to understand, oh Expert. Be simpler, and our sets will run forward to you!" answered the Crowd.

"And here is the conclusion to which I have come..." and False Expert made an effective pause.

"What is that?! Don't weary us already!"

"All of you are living in illusion! This is a fog, a delusion, a dream!"

"And what about you?!" the crowd was stunned.

"I am too," false Expert noticed hypocritically. "But I am an expert for a reason, to give you the right direction of thinking, to train you the basics, so that possibly one day one from your ranks can become a real Expert..."

"We understand nothing! Speak even simpler!"

"You are all total fools!" false Expert screamed. "Do you understand me now?!"

"Yes, yes!" the Crowd burst out in joyful cries. "We agree, we always agree with everything! You are the Expert, you are right! Your opinion is a truth!"

"A medal for my neck!" false Expert lifted up his head proudly. "And let it be even heavier!"

"Already carrying!" someone said from the Crowd.

"So, how is my opinion to you?" questioned the expert.

"Due to the absence of another, we will be sufficed with what is given to us. After all, we still haven't managed to think ourselves!"

"To your big regret and my greatest pleasure," false Expert noted. "But such is the nature of crowds... for the crowd to transform into individuals it must cease to be a crowd, having marched to self-knowledge in face of its certain representatives, which would lead to a structural change of goal-forming component and vector of movements of crowds. An obvious contradiction can be seen here, from which a clear solution can be resolved..."

"You are speaking too difficult again! Better tell us something about the weather!"

"So what, do news of culture and sports interest you no longer?" false Expert raised his eyebrows. "So many glamorous events occurred there recently..."

"News! Weather! Give us!" rumble was carried between persons in a set.

"Well, all right, all right!" and false Expert smiled mischievously. "Now it's other Experts turn!"

11.12.2012

## I am always alone

"Please forgive me, for I cannot tell you of it. We simply must part our ways. It's everything you need to know."

"But I do not understand... have I caused some harm to you? I loved you and still do love."

"Do not say it like so, it only makes things worse."

"But why? Why should we part with each other?"

"I have another man. I do not love you."

***

"Ye, driveller, what's the fuck do I need you for? Go and sing your serenades to some pensive sixteen-year-old silly girlie! You are just not the man for ye cannot financially support your girl! And I have already seen such ones in my life – and trust me, they simply don't survive. The law of natural selection, right? And you are – the evolutionary flaw. Either you stop bringing some poetic nonsense and show me real money, or we are parting our ways today!"

"We are parting our ways."

***

"No, not like so. No, no that way. So... like so...  more...  more... Oh... how nice! More... here... like that. With you... it's so... so good with you... so good for me."

"I... I have become attached to you... I don't know, how... how I will live alone for now..."

"Hey, let's not start that... ok? Don't think you can buy me with your words. You... know the terms."

"I know... I know it all. Sometimes it seems to me that I... know too much. The price... the price is still the same?"

"Yes, the same. And let us agree that it will be currency from now on, instead of barter. We are not living in the Stone Age, are we?"

***

"And do these four years together, do they really mean nothing to you?"

She has approached me, twisted her hands around my neck, and steadfastly and sadly has looked in my eyes.

"They mean everything for me. These were the best ones in my entire life, whether you believe it or not. You have given me so much... I have never met a man like you before... and probably will never meet anymore... Will live like... live like... all normal people..."

Her eyes filled with tears. I have embraced her and pushed to myself.

"Let us not leave each other, ok? After all, it's what we wanted... to be together for all our lives... together to the last breath..."

"Oh my God, how would I have wanted it to be so! How would I want to never leave you... never ... to... that you always... with each sunrise, with each new day come to me... and I come to you... and we were with each other, and would both rejoice and grieve together... together... oh, how I would like that! But... I cannot... cannot... not now..."

"And still we have to part our ways... after all... forever?"

"Yes... forever. And you know this well. You know... I have a legal husband and cannot leave him... I cannot."

***

"You know, now it starts to seem that I will never meet her. The only her, whom I would really fall in love with... who will love me... the one, who can become the only one... the only possible woman of my life."

"I believe you make your conclusions too early. Not all is lost at all."

"But not everything was found as well. And will it be found, I wonder? How small is the chance that among all the variety of people I can see and find her! I would rather stop trying, for now, I am too tired of this pursuit of phantoms, too tired... perhaps, I would rather be alone for now – always alone. I have come to this world lonely, and I should leave it the same way."

"We all have to. That doesn't mean, however, that we are destined to be lonely for our entire life from the beginning and up to the end. You will still meet her, of that I am sure."

"Maybe. Possibly this unique day will once come when I will meet her... finally, find her. Maybe so. I really want to believe in that."

16.01.2006
