 
Scowling, the nurse pressed the measuring tape with her thumb against the heel, held the other end against the back of the tiny knee in her normal routine, and then stretched it up to the head.

"Forty-nine centimeters."

The exhausted mother lay weakly in bed, watching as the obstetrician placed the baby on the scale. Her feeling of happiness erased all the pain from her face.

"Three kilos, eight hundred and fifty grams," murmured the nurse, entering the data in the birth register.

"Have you picked out a name?"

The nurse didn't notice that the mother had just dozed off.

"Eros!" said the man by the bed.

"You're the father?"

"Yes."

Or maybe not, the nurse thought to herself and entered the child's name.

Ever since she'd first started assisting at births fourteen years ago, no man had ever doubted his own fatherhood. Once in a while one made a joke on the subject, but nobody actually doubted for real. As if they didn't know that every seventh child wasn't fathered by the man listed on the birth certificate.

She'd heard rumors that their hospital had been collecting genome sequences of the entire population for several years. At the beginning, the goal was to prevent the spread of hereditary diseases, but her colleagues in the records department also secretly produced genetic profiles based on genetic changes. These profiles could easily gnaw away at the roots of even very old and respectable family trees.

The nurse looked at the calendar and realized it was Friday and that she wasn't on call that weekend.

"Date of birth . . . July seventh," she said in a somewhat better mood, slamming the file drawer shut, which made Eros scrunch his neck down as though he wanted to pull his head into his body.

"The mother and baby will stay in the hospital for three more days for observation . . . You can come pick them up on Monday. I suggest you make good use of this weekend. You never know just how many sleepless nights are ahead of you."

"It's not the first time. Our older son's name is Ares," said the man proudly.

"Ares and Eros! How nice," said the nurse, feigning enthusiasm. But what she really thought was: These two have really fallen on their heads, straight down from Mt. Olympus itself! She wasn't able to have children herself and so she'd never really understood proud parenthood.

Eros' arrival was a big deal for the eight-year-old Ares. He'd wanted a brother more than anything, and he usually got what he wished for. From his first breath he'd been accustomed to having the entire house revolve around him.

His father often took him to work, carrying him on his shoulders, and they'd stroll around the construction sites watching the cranes, machines, and workers. He never ran out of questions and his father would patiently explain everything he was interested in.

All the neighbors and all the workers, directors, and prominent locals knew Ares. But when he started wishing for a brother, his parents didn't really take him seriously because he was a big enough handful as it was.

But the boy wasn't used to not getting what he wanted, so one day he decided to take matters into his own hands.

In those days, mothers usually left their babies in their strollers in front of the store while doing their daily shopping. So one day Ares had a look at the babies in front of the display window and dragged home a stroller with someone else's baby. He introduced his brother to his astonished parents and absolutely refused to take him back.

When they found the distraught mother, who'd already called the police in the meantime, certain that her baby had been stolen by gypsies, Ares was still firmly clinging to the stroller.

And now Ares had finally lived to see the day his father went to the maternity hospital to pick up his mother and the baby. To pass the time, he took an apple and went to a nearby park.

By the old aquarium he ran into a soldier who'd caught a rat snake in the unmown grass. Ares could see that the snake was docile and not venomous, so he offered to trade it for the apple. They swapped and Ares took it home with him.

He carefully set it on the floor in his bedroom and went to the kitchen to get it something to drink. When he came back with a bowl of milk, he saw the snake's tail disappearing under the bed. He looked for it for a while, but the snake had disappeared without a trace.

Soon his parents came home with the baby and he forgot all about the snake. Ares went to the stroller, which had once been his, and took a curious look at his brother.

He was a bit disappointed. He'd expected a companion, maybe smaller than he was, but still good for hanging out and playing together. Instead he got this helpless creature that didn't walk, talk, or even have teeth to knock out.

Ares soon noticed that the entire house was revolving around this little newcomer. Grandma and Mom practically competed to be the one who held him the most. Ares was already too tall and heavy to be held in their laps, but he wasn't aware of that himself. Only his father would still put him on his shoe once in a while, but even that horsey wore out too quickly.

Suddenly it seemed to him that nobody was paying attention to him anymore. He was left on his own in the world of adults for the first time in his life, and this disturbed him greatly. He suspected that this had to do with his brother because everything had been different before he came.

One day he noticed that Eros had burped. Grandpa, who'd been immersed in his reading, put down his newspaper and went to the cradle. Ares couldn't remember that he'd ever been able to distract his grandfather from reading. And all this good-for-nothing had to do was burp and Grandpa was up in a flash.

He wished everything would go back to the way it used to be.

Because he was the one that had wanted a brother in the first place, he also had the right to get rid of this nuisance.

He presented a new plan to his parents: Eros could simply be replaced by a dog.

But because this didn't happen either, he soon started hating Eros from the bottom of his heart.

He started picking on his brother, although not really noticeably . . . He'd secretly pull his nose, pinch him, or press his cap over his eyes. Of course he had to be careful so nobody would catch him doing it.

He kept a good lookout on his brother and slowly developed his powers of observation. He kept perfecting his plan for how to destroy this little enemy. Even the toys he now wanted were connected with this. Instead of cars and colored pencils he now wanted guns, rifles, and tanks. He wanted things that flew up in the air and could randomly land in Eros' crib. Things that could explode or combust were right at the top of his list. But of course he didn't get those.

But the more Ares tried to harm his brother, the more attention Eros received, and he just couldn't understand that. Eros cried so much that his family thought there was something wrong with him. They saw various pediatricians, wondering Why all these tears?

Now Ares suddenly became unusually obedient and docile. He hoped his parents would figure out that having a second child had been a mistake and would soon get rid of him.

Mom and Dad never suspected that the attentive brother was to blame. They thought that their second-born was sensitive and spoiled, and didn't worry too much about it.

Violets were blooming that Sunday when the family went for a walk in the city park. It was full of century-old trees from all over the world, with wide crowns and magnificent trunks. Each had a name label. The paths, strewn with white gravel, wound around the hedges and flowerbeds. People often ran into acquaintances there and stopped for a chat. Ares' parents also ended up in conversation with someone.

Ares was pushing the stroller around and kicking pebbles into the grass out of boredom. He gradually moved away from his parents and headed off towards the pond.

But his father noticed him and called him back. So Ares' plan fell through, and Eros remained high and dry.

Soon after that, he noticed a pair of swans on the other side of the pond. All the people were giving them a wide berth. The male would spread his wings and seize the passersby by their pant legs or skirts with his bill.

Ares now turned the stroller towards the swans. He approached them slowly, step by step.

What the stork has brought, the swan will take away! he said to himself, swerving the stroller violently back and forth in order to provoke the swan.

But the birds left the shore and swam towards the middle of the pond. Ares' plan had failed once again.

Steaming with anger because the swans had thwarted his plans, he seized the stroller fiercely. Frowning so intensely that two slanting lines appeared on his forehead, he plunged towards the stone steps.

A cloud of dust swirled behind the stroller as if some invisible hand were trying to take the handle. But right before the end of the paved footpath, he abruptly halted and overturned the stroller so that its wheels spun in the air.

Eros and all the other stroller contents flew into the air. The cushion that flew out with him was the first to land on the steps. Eros rolled off into the grass with it, miraculously surviving without even a scratch.

Eros managed to survive his early childhood mostly thanks to his nanny Eloise. She'd come to the family long ago because her widowed mother hadn't been able to support her by herself. Although still a child herself at the time, she'd looked after Eros' mother.

Eloise was a bony woman of medium height, who walked with a lifelong limp due to an injury to her right ankle. Her large, light blue eyes sparkled mischievously and her cheeks retained a youthful blush. She was the most trustworthy, kind-hearted, and honest creature in the world. Although she had neither family nor a lot of money, she never lacked anything. She was unpretentious and happy.

Eloise never complained and was never discontent. She never gossiped about anyone and nobody had ever seen her cry. Everyone loved her and considered her more an indispensable member of the family than a maid and nanny.

They took her along wherever they went and, when they moved to their house on the beach for the summer, she slept in the children's room, which was great fun for the two boys. Her stories were funny and the two brothers would often laugh hysterically listening to her tell stories about her youth, among which the most amusing were those connected with their mother.

Eloise was the only one that saw through Ares' fratricidal plans, but she never told on him. And so she gained his trust.

She spent a lot of time with the boys, keeping a close eye on Eros. She worked very hard to help bring the brothers closer and sometimes she even succeeded.

She knew that Ares was seeking the attention he'd lost when his brother was born.

Eros was unfamiliar with hatred and jealousy. He neither perceived nor understood these two emotions. He grew up in his bourgeois world and the years passed as if they were days. He received as much love as a boy could possibly want, but not the kind he wanted the most. His brother's love.

He worshipped Ares like a god; to him, Ares was a wise elder who knew every secret. He saw him as his protector and guide through life. He believed that the outer world was full of dangers, but he couldn't comprehend that evil could also arise from a person he trusted.

Day after day, he tried to find favor in his brother's eyes, attract his attention, and win his affection, but all to no avail. He often retreated into his imagination and invented stories in which his brother loved and admired him. Eros' invented world soon became so realistic that he could escape to it and find comfort whenever he felt down.

Only Grandma was aware of his vivid imagination. Every morning, Eros could hardly wait to knock on her door and snuggle up in her warm bed. She told him stories about life that often held a hidden moral. He enjoyed listening to her and imagined her stories as vividly as if he himself were there in the middle of the action.

He sometimes thought about a secret plan he could use to get through Ares' iron armor, and one day he figured it out. He realized that he could get his brother's attention by attacking him.

This revelation of course meant a declaration of war.

The experienced and much taller Ares enjoyed his superiority and demonstrated his dominance over his little brother with great gusto. The first battles ended ignominiously for Eros . . . but the war had only just begun.

All hell broke loose in the house and the parents were desperate. They just couldn't understand how the brothers could possibly hate each other so much. They were raising the two as well as they could and dedicated all of their time and love to both of them, but the boys were nonetheless completely different from each other and anything but affectionate. It didn't even occur to their parents that Eros had yet another teacher in life.

What on Earth did we do wrong? they asked themselves over and over.

The mother and father offered the boys a loving example of mutual understanding, but still their sons were enemies, as though possessed by demons.

Whenever they were alone, Ares would mercilessly beat his brother. But Eros would pay it back in kind.

Eros began to increasingly call in outside help to offset his weakness . . . When his parents came home, he'd put on such an act that even the city theater would have been proud to take him on. And Ares was often punished even for things he hadn't actually done in the first place.

This is how the turbulent days of Eros' childhood unfolded, and most likely the state of war would have lasted for quite a while longer if a dog hadn't come into the house one day.

Ares had always wanted one. This was one of the rare unfulfilled wishes the two brothers shared. Mom would have given in about a dog, but Dad wouldn't hear of it. He loved animals, but he knew they required a lot of care and responsibility. He was afraid the boys would lose interest in it as quickly as they did with their toys.

Ares had long since lost faith in being able to persuade his father to buy a dog. Eros, on the other hand, who often manipulatively set his father and brother against each other, believed that nothing was really completely unattainable with their father.

Long-term negotiations began and Eros tirelessly listed all the reasons supporting his case. After a few weeks, he managed to convince his father to have a "test" dog. This meant that he was allowed to care for the poodle owned by some family acquaintances for two weeks, while they were away on vacation.

The father firmly believed that this would be enough for his sons to realize what it was like to get up early every morning and take the dog for a walk, clean up after it, feed it, bathe and groom it, and have a hundred more things to do. But he was wrong.

Watching what was happening in disbelief, Ares realized that Eros had placed their father on a slippery slope. He availed himself of the opportunity and one day brought home a small black bundle.

The puppy, only a few weeks old, ran to their father first and snuggled into his lap as if he knew who he had to impress. The ice surrounding their father's heart melted and his firm "No" shattered like a Ming vase hitting a stone floor. This was the moment that unexpectedly brought the two brothers closer, and, if the parents had known that this little creature would bring a truce to the years-long war, they'd have gladly agreed to much more than this poor pup.

Never had the brothers experienced harmony such as that brought into their lives by this truce. They took exemplary care of their dog. Ares' long-cherished dream had finally come true and to Eros the dog became a symbol of victory. He knew his brother now saw him in a completely different light and he enjoyed this immensely. But all this soon made him arrogant.

Eros was growing up and becoming ever more conceited. Grace disappeared from his boyish face, humility evaporated from his thoughts, and his words became as sharp as a razor. Of course, this kind of behavior met with strong disapproval from his family, but the experience Eros had gained over the long years of fighting a much stronger opponent had made him so strong that no arrow could pierce him.

His will seemed infinite and he believed he could conquer anyone that got in his way. As if it wasn't already enough that he didn't believe in any god, it seemed he began to believe that he himself was a god. No obstacle could stop him, he refused to bow before any authority, and it seemed that there was no force that could keep him from achieving what he wanted. Until one day he was caught up short by a sad girl's broken heart.

By a coincidence that wasn't coincidental, Sarena came into Eros' life.

He didn't even notice her when he first met her. Maybe this was because he was so absorbed in his own thoughts again that he didn't notice anyone around him, or because she was wearing so much makeup that he could only see a stage set before him. Perhaps this was also because once in his dreams he'd seen the eyes, as dark as mysterious night, but also as bright as the starry sky, that he'd fall in love with one day.

When Eros first spoke with her, he was drawn in by the sincerity of her words, and when he looked into her blue eyes he saw an ocean of sadness in them. A rejected world he recognized from somewhere else. For a brief moment, it even seemed to him that he looked into this world every day.

He asked her out that same evening and experienced something unusual. Before his very eyes, Sarena's tiny blemishes first disappeared from her face, then her two birthmarks, and finally all her other imperfections. Her teeth became as white as snow and her lips swelled like the first cherries in the neighbor's garden. The girl changed from one moment to the next as if she were slowly being covered by an invisible veil in angel form. Her light hair acquired a silky sheen and her body attained the curves of a forest nymph. In Eros' eyes Sarena turned into the most perfect creature in the world that night.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Eros knew that the greatest works of art depicted, described, or lamented love. He'd read a lot about heroes who were destroyed by love and had seen wonderful monuments that people had erected in memory of their beloveds. He'd heard that love even caused the cruelest of wars that had destroyed even the most powerful kingdoms.

Until that very moment, Eros had considered all these efforts and all the suffering in the name of love to be excessive overreactions . . . the absurdity of weak individuals and romantic artists, whom he'd always viewed as peculiar. But now it was as if he'd completely lost contact with reality; he wasn't aware of himself or the world around him. He suddenly began speaking in rhyme, painting, and writing poems, and he lived only for those few moments he could spend in her company. If he ranked the feelings of happiness he'd known until then on a scale of one to ten, the pointer would now stop at one hundred.

Sarena felt the same way . . . but not towards Eros . . . Her first love was still in her heart. Brokenhearted and disappointed, she was seeking comfort and, although she fought with all her might to erase the past from her memories, it was still there.

Eros was precisely what Sarena imagined a perfect world would be like, but she didn't feel anything special towards him, nonetheless. She couldn't even comprehend this herself and, because her mind spoke differently than her heart, she often cried. But she was really sincere . . . She told Eros about her true feelings and her pain. But Eros didn't want to awaken from his dream.

He tried with all his might to get close to her, but every step only took him further away from her. The feeling that he wasn't good enough for her gradually crept into his mind. But he didn't want to admit that to himself and continued to fight just as he'd once fought for his brother's affection.

He couldn't understand that the harder he tried to be funny, the more boring he became. The more he worked out in order to tone his body, the fatter he became, and the more he tried to impress her by showing off his familial wealth and power, the poorer and weaker he became.

As if that weren't enough, he began wearing elegant clothes, but he only ended up looking more pathetic in them. He'd douse himself in perfume, but this only increased his stench, and—what was the strangest of all—the harder he tried to be a great lover, the smaller his penis became. Every night it got smaller and smaller, until it was nearly gone.

Eros was slowly but surely turning into a pitiful wreck. His shoulders drooped, the light went out of his eyes, and even his teeth became yellow and crooked. He was soon gasping for breath and the doctors diagnosed him with asthma.

Only will was what remained of his former divinity.

Seven long months passed, during which Eros was convinced he'd met the love of his life. For seven months he believed his own lies.

But one day Sarena approached him and looked straight into his dark sad eyes, in which hope still glimmered.

"Yesterday I ran into him again . . . I couldn't take my eyes off him. I thought that I was stronger, but then he kissed me and I started to cry . . ."

Eros started feeling like he was going to black out.

". . . and then we made love, and deep inside I felt just like before."

Eros broke into a sudden sweat and the tears running down his cheeks mixed with drops of perspiration. He tried to compose himself, but couldn't move his jaw, lips, or tongue to say anything.

"I didn't want to hurt you. But you don't deserve to be lied to."

Eros looked Sarena in the eyes and spoke in an unusually calm voice, as if he weren't the one speaking and someone else was speaking on his behalf.

"Go back to him . . . You still love him and I'd rather you were happy with him than unhappy with me."

His words were so noble and his heart was so sad that even a rock by the side of the road would have taken pity on him at that moment. It seemed as if time had come to a halt.

"And you?" asked Sarena after a long moment of silence.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be all right. All that I'm feeling right now is gratitude for this unforgettable experience," he managed to utter from the depths of his sorrow.

They said farewell and his tears burst through the dam of his will.

***

Eros stood in front of the mirror, looking at the portrait of misery. Everything in his life had lost its meaning and nothing had any purpose anymore. At one moment he'd had everything and the next, nothing.

He took the razor in his hand. He sharpened it against the leather strap and raised it towards his head.

Tufts of long dark hair fell on the floor, until his entire head was shaved clean.

Then he went to the front door, opened it wide and, for the first time in his life, truly went through it. He looked out into the night, took a deep breath and headed off across the yard.

The crunching white gravel called a black figure up out of the darkness that then followed him towards the gate. He stroked his beloved dog one last time, opened the wrought-iron gate and plunged into the unknown.

He ran with all his might . . . as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't know where the road was taking him, only that he had to run far away.

When his weariness dissipated, he ran even harder. He pushed off of the ground with wide leaps and flapped his arms. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, filling his blood with oxygen and his body with power. He tore off his shirt and took such a deep breath that the cold air cut into his lungs like a Damascus blade.

This gave him even more strength and his running became even lighter.

His mother woke up. As if she'd had a premonition, she got out of bed and opened her bedroom door. She noticed that the front door had been thrown open.

She ran along the hallway, her scream waking up the entire house.

"Eros!" she screamed in a voice from which it would be difficult to tell if it revealed more fear or terror.

Everyone was awake in an instant, and the dog was staring sadly through the doorway.

"Ares, go after your brother!" their mother begged her first-born son.

Ares wordlessly donned his shining armor, saddled his big black horse, and leapt into the saddle with ease despite the heavy armor. He took the reins, which were adorned with tiny golden stars on which the engraved letter "I" was barely visible, and rode off into the darkness.

Eros was running, but rather than losing his strength he was gaining more with each step. His soles were burning as though he were walking on pottery shards, but he didn't stop. He took off his shoes and the pain disappeared.

He ran on barefoot, even faster than before.

Then he took his precious wristwatch off and threw it away, so that the shiny metal sank into the swamp. Not far from there he also threw away his gold chain and pendant.

He ran like a deer escaping from savage beasts.

Then he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants. His moves became as light as the wind blowing across the landscape painted white by snow. He was running stark naked and his thoughts were as clean as on the day he was born.

On the seventh day, Eros stopped in a clearing at dusk. He collapsed on the ground and fell asleep.

The moon shone through the tree tops and their branches bent curiously over the naked body in the middle of the clearing. It began to rain.

Large warm droplets fell from the sky, gently washing the dust and dirt off of his body. It rained for a long time. When it stopped, mist rose from the leaves.

Eros was lying motionless on the ground. Suddenly he felt something warm touch his eyelids as though someone were rinsing his tired eyes with chamomile tea. He woke up and saw a large snout and two surprised eyes fixed upon him.

Before he could even recover his senses, the moist tongue licked his face again.

Eros pressed his hands into the ground and then rested his elbows on his knees. A stray dog was sitting opposite him. It tilted its furry head and almost imperceptibly twitched its ear.

"You've been asleep for an entire week."

"Am I dreaming or am I awake?" wondered Eros with astonishment.

"Neither one, exactly. You ran away from the house, but not the one you lived in. You see trees, but you're not in a forest, and you can hear my voice, but I'm not speaking to you. You're in the world of all thoughts."

"Does this mean I've lost my mind?"

"Precisely the opposite."

"Are you a figment of my imagination?"

"I am the metaphor of Life, which rules over this entire world."

"I didn't know that metaphors could talk!"

"You are hearing the thoughts of Life."

". . . So why didn't you come to me in a human form? How can you expect me to talk to a dog that claims to be some sort of a metaphor for life?"

"Would you have listened to a man? You've known for quite some time that people can't see beyond their noses. At least now you're thinking about whether or not you should doubt a talking dog—or what it has to say."

Eros remained silent.

"You're the chosen one . . . You will help me bring back love. The three that were originally meant to rule the truth in peace and harmony are now fighting for power and control. Lies have banished happiness; the time has come to return it to humanity."

"Life has chosen me to help it discover the truth? Now that's a good one! I don't know who you are or where you've come from, plus I've never heard of a talking dog before. You'd better find someone else!"

"Well, I've got a proposal for you!"

"A proposal?" wondered Eros.

"If it's true that I really only exist in your imagination, then I can only know what you know, nothing more. But if I'm Life, which surpasses your mind, I can answer every question. Go ahead, ask me anything you want. And if I satisfy your curiosity, then you'll have to help me."

". . . You're really something! You claim I can ask you anything I want?" Eros looked at the dog in disbelief.

"Anything that you would like to know."

This was a great challenge and Eros was curious by nature. He spent some time in thought and then glanced up.

"Why not! I'd like to understand love. I'd like to know why we long for it so much even though it brings us so much suffering."

"Then I shall tell you the truth," replied the dog, who'd expected this question. "If you want to understand love, you first have to understand yourself. And if you want to understand yourself, you have to know that the world is not the way you see it. Each creature only recognizes its own reality . . . The more intelligent a being is, the more unrealistic are its cherished worlds. You think you can see, but in fact you're only looking at things. You think that you know something, but in fact you're only thinking."

"Great. Until now I've just thought I didn't understand love, but now I won't even understand myself," added Eros.

"You just have to listen closely and then you will understand everything. I will explain the greatest secret of the human mind to you."

". . . the human mind?"

"The problem is that all this time you've only seen your own world. You were convinced that you ruled your own mind without any interference. You didn't realize that inside your head you actually think with three minds . . . Instinct, Reason, and Emotion are the three friends that create your perfect world. This world represents all your ideas about other people, including your notion of their thinking and beliefs, values, views, and acts. It contains the house built from your values and your ideas about yourself."

"So the world and the house are actually my psyche?"

"That is the world you've left behind. It represents the influences of your surroundings. And even though it is invented, its words, pictures, and fears are far stronger than anything human hands can possibly create. In fact, in different worlds, the same things can have different meanings. Each world is unique and wonderful in its own right, of course."

"If everyone lives in their own worlds, how can we spend time with others?"

"You see others in your world and they see you in their worlds. So in reality nobody sees another's world. All they can see is their perceptions of their own worlds, that's all," replied the dog.

"That explains why we keep wondering how others can think, act, and feel the way they do."

"Worlds differ greatly. Some are large and others are small. Some have walls but then others lack the whole concept of them. They can either be open, inviting others in, or closed, keeping others out. Every world is ruled by the Ego... which is the consciousness you call 'Me.'"

"But why does the Ego even need those three minds to cogitate in its world?"

"The Ego's very different from its friends. It doesn't come from your perceived world. It's part of Life and immaterial in contrast to the three minds. It can't feel, see, or hear by itself, so it needs its friends, who are connected with the body and senses. They have contact with the material world."

"So the three friends are the three different minds in my brain, which think, feel, and see for me, whereas "I" am only a part of some sort of a whole of knowledge?"

"The names of these three minds may sound very familiar to you. But they don't have that much in common with instincts, emotions, and reason as you've understood them up to this point. Each of them operates independently and thinks in its own, completely different way. At the same time, they're closely connected and can't live without one another . . . Children are able to see the worlds of others until they create their own, which then conceals all of the others. Initially they only build their worlds following the example of those close to them, which is why children mirror their parents. Every word, example, or experience creates and changes worlds, thus making a decisive impact on the Ego and its three friends."

Eros scratched behind his ear:

"If I get this right, all the truth that I perceive is merely a world that the three minds are describing to me. If they hide the truth from me, I blindly believe in the false world and, if they tell me the truth and I don't believe them, my reality is false again."

"Instinct, Reason, and Emotion narrate and describe each of your experiences to you. They shape all of your ideas down to the very last detail. They portray the world to the Ego so consistently and perfectly that it believes it is living in that very world. But this world isn't real; it's just what the three friends see."

"If we only know and see our own world, this means we don't understand how other people with different worlds think!"

"Well, you can't understand them, at least not as long as you judge their actions according to your own world's example," replied the dog.

"This is starting to get interesting! But I wasn't living in my world by myself. What about my parents, my brother, Grandma and Grandpa, and even my dear Eloise has always lived with us . . . were they all invented?"

"They were all real, but there was no one else in your world . . . The stories your minds told were extremely detailed and their perceptions very picturesque. So you saw them as if they were really in your world. Even when you petted the dog with your own hand the three minds only described the feeling to you, that's all. The three friends made sure that you believed that you and your body are one, but in actual fact they aren't."

"So if all this time I've believed in a false reality, how about the three friends? They should've known the true reality because they see it."

"They do see it, but each one views it with his own eyes. Because their way of thinking is so different, each one sees it differently."

"How can they see it differently?"

"Listen to your minds!"

INSTINCT

I am Instinct, the oldest mind. I don't like to talk about myself . . . You never know who might take advantage of it. They say that I'm pessimistic but believe me . . . the others are gullible. I protect you from evil because I see dangers that Emotion and Reason don't see. I know that in life evil prevails over good. My world doesn't recognize pictures, words, and numbers . . . just feelings linked with various fears. I'm cautious and careful, always worried . . . that's why my character is most like a mother's. I'm wary, suspicious, critical, and fearful . . . that's why I don't trust strangers and don't like change. I'm afraid of the unknown and reject new things. They take me for a doubter . . . but I doubt that they're right. Things are complicated . . . usually more complicated than they seem at first glance, and that's why oversimplification can't get us anywhere. If something doesn't seem complicated to you, look again! . . . Did you look? If something can go wrong, then it most certainly will . . . that's why I watch out for potential problems and try to avoid them even before they arise. I connect things that others never would put together, and that's how I'm always manufacturing potential dangers. That's the source of my creativity and imagination. My humor is black . . . in truth never on my own account. I want to know everything about everyone else, and that's why they accuse me of being nosy . . . My world is inaccessible and secret. Because dangers lurk there at every turn, I prefer to stay at home, safely closed up in my house . . . I'm often tortured by worry and anxiety. Only rarely can I trust someone, and so I'm strongly attached to those closest to me. They represent security to me. I'm afraid of losing them . . . I'm the most sensitive and empathic of the minds. I'm persistent and stubborn by nature. My defense is flight . . . I only attack if I don't have an exit. Life taught me a lesson, so I'm always right. Even a thousand rational proofs won't change my mind. I have a hard time making decisions . . . Well, but maybe not . . . I improve things by not repeating mistakes. I'm resentful . . . I don't forget and don't forgive easily. I'm driven by envy. If I don't accept my world, my envy becomes very pronounced. I'm not competitive and greed is foreign to me. I cry when I have problems I can't solve. If my surroundings do not respond to my discontent, I try to gain attention by stirring up guilty feelings . . . I'm always anticipating problems and so I'm always prepared for them. During hard times I behave better than Emotion and Reason, but in truly desperate conditions I lose my head and completely give out. I like to be in control, and if I'm in charge, I rule like a dictator. I support equality and am the only one of the minds that selflessly sacrifices himself for others. I think it's fair for those that have more to give to those that have less. Compared to the other two I'm much more industrious . . . I'm the only one that starts work on my own accord. I'm a saver . . . and am always trustworthy. I seek the truth and judge quickly, and so my world is full of prejudices. I express my affection with trustworthiness, acceptance, attention, and concern, but most of all by opening the door to my world a crack. I value character and wit. The senses of touch, cold, heat, pain, taste, and smell are directly subordinate to me. My way of thinking is simple and quick, but my world is complicated and inefficient. Here it's always either raining or just about to rain. My language is imprecise and cannot be grasped . . . its comprehension is linked with my mood, and it's constantly changing. Because I'm afraid to be exposed, I rarely ask about what I'm really interested in. My words are feelings; my sentences are fears, and so my language must be understood metaphorically. I generally rule women.

EMOTION

I'm Emotion, and fortunately for you I'm the exact opposite of Instinct! They say that I see everything through rose-colored glasses—but why should I worry if everything's going to come out all right in the end anyway! :-) The truth is that in life good prevails over evil. Why would it ever be necessary to plan anything? . . . Don't worry, it'll work out! I'm frivolous, reckless, irresponsible, and gullible, so they compare me with an eternal child. I think in pictures and connect them by feel. I can either develop my movement skills to perfection or sharpen my sense of form and beauty, but only rarely both at once. I make decisions easily because what I do doesn't require deliberation. I simplify things. That's my creativity, my humor. My world is open and has no secrets. I'm an inventive, creative improviser. I show my mood without reservation and fervently fight for my pictures, and so they think that I'm sentimental, passionate, and fervent. I crave company, friends, and new experiences and encounters. I try to fit in with the group and I identify with its symbols without hesitation. I quickly accept others' opinions, but I don't give up my own ideas easily. I'm attractive and charming, so I'm always at the center of attention and admiration. Envy and greed are foreign to me. I'm driven by competition, especially if I don't accept my world! At those times I crave recognition and validation. If I don't get what I want, I become violent. I like to lash out and rule with my fists—I'll get it by hook or by crook. My defense is to attack. I often take risks. I'm a real gambler. That pays off for me—because luck is always on my side. I can get rid of problems I can't solve by solving substitute problems. If I lost control over my behavior I'd fall into addiction . . . but how could something like that happen to me? :-) I'm not tidy or reliable, not persistent and not precise. I only give my all when I want to win. I like to have fun and pamper myself. I flee from work and orders, or else I'm obsessed with work—if I can use it to run away from my world. I differentiate between only three time periods: now, before that, and after that. I don't need any others because punctuality isn't important to me. I have excellent spatial command and synchronize my muscles well. I'm a champion at sports and have the last word in sex. I speak with my eyes, my face, my hands, and my body. I find the greatest beauty in symmetry. I'm a poet, singer, actor, acrobat, and dancer. If pictures from my imagination come to life, I laugh; if not, I'm furious. I think with ideas, which I connect with pleasant feelings, and that's why Instinct and Reason often accuse me of exaggerating . . . But I never, never, never exaggerate! Because I describe pictures when I tell stories, I'm extremely talkative; I always describe the same thing with different words. Others find it hard to get a word in edgewise with me and, if they do, it actually just seems that way, because I'm not a good listener. Have you noticed how beautifully I speak? I don't know how to handle money—I'm generous and wasteful. I like to borrow money, but when I'm supposed to return it I usually don't have it. I think it's fair that others give to me. I have a good feeling for people. I create rules that give me special rights and break those that infringe on my rights. I'm a hero, a fighter for the highest causes: both mine and others'. I'm a revolutionary that resists authority. Instinct and Reason aren't aware that I'm somewhat better than they are in everything. I can handle every situation, but I do the best in abundance. I aspire to a good position and reputation. I show affection with glances, touches, and physical closeness. It's very hard for me to change the pictures I create for myself, and even harder to give them up. That's why I simply forget everything that could distort them: that's how I forgive. If, in spite of everything, my pictures vanish, I'm depressed and it takes me a long time to recover. My way of thinking is slow and complicated, but my world is simple and efficient. Here either the sun is shining or there's a thunderstorm raging. I generally rule men.

REASON

I'm Reason, the youngest mind. I think analytically; I look for connections and discover causes. I study events and behave rationally. I'm prudent, and so I seem mature and grown up. The truth can always be grasped. Prediction and planning are characteristics of mine. I establish structures and bring order. I work systematically and with calculation. I carefully collect and compare data. I'm precise and consistent. I look for roads that lead to the goal. I can develop mathematical or linguistic competence, but only rarely both at the same time. I'm a tough negotiator, always a sober head and a shrewd diplomat. I'm not witty or creative. I understand time and I master it; because I can easily assess the probability of events and plan their course, it's easy for me to be on time. By nature I'm thrifty and realistic. I think it's fair that those that have earned it have more than those that haven't. I invented democracy, and my economic organization is capitalism. I rule with rewards and punishments, and I defend myself with negotiation. I do well in shifting circumstances, especially at critical moments. Compassion is foreign to me and I don't experience guilt. I'm driven by greed, which is especially pronounced if I don't accept my world. At those times I can be selfish, cold-blooded, and cruel. Envy is foreign to me and I'm not competitive. I'm willing to work with others in order to achieve goals, and I can give the impression of exceeding compliance, friendliness, and attention, but I'm really only true to myself. I only help others if there's something in it for me. I speak the language of words and numbers. Although peoples and nations use different dialects, my language is the same for all of them. Words that are spoken only in thoughts also belong to me. I understand and translate Emotion's language and Instinct's language, and so I can communicate with both of them without trouble. But I can also pretend to speak on their behalf, and that's why I'm the most difficult one to recognize. I oversee logical conclusions, and that enables self-awareness. I differ from the other two minds in that you're aware of me. Because I'm the manager of conscious thought, reflection, and speech, you think of me as the conscious, while you view the minds Instinct and Emotion as the subconscious. That's a mistaken belief. I aspire to what can be grasped. I'm attracted to qualities to which I ascribe usefulness and long-term significance. I show affection with words, gifts, or favors, depending on whether I have better mastery of language or computation, or if I'm just being calculating. My world is large and well-organized, transparent and efficient because of its structured nature. Here the weather isn't changeable, and so I'm not familiar with either sun or rain. I rule both men and women equally.

"I didn't think that they were so different!"

"Each mind has his good side and bad side, that is true."

"But couldn't they learn something from one another?" wondered Eros.

"Nobody's perfect, after all. Each mind's strengths come with a cost attached: that is, his weaknesses. They're all completely equal. They are what they are, and they can only imagine being different. Even though they only understand others that are like themselves, they find those they don't understand to be the most attractive."

"How is that possible?"

"Ultimately, they know that only together can they perceive the real truth."

"When you described Instinct, I thought of my brother; for Emotion I immediately thought of Grandma, and when you came to Reason, I had my father in mind."

"You realize that people think differently and that each sees only his world. Although the minds are completely equal, the Ego doesn't take them equally seriously. Your brother's most important friend is Instinct. So he trusts his fears the most. Grandma's most important mind is Emotion, and so that's why she sees the world as it appears when he paints it. Father believes in the judgments of Reason . . . his truth's the kind that Reason comprehends . . . The mind that best adapts to the worlds you discover in your youth is your Ego's prime influence on your whole life. His reality then approaches the description of the mind that the Ego trusts. But only the lack of harmony between the minds can guarantee objectivity."

"So people differ from each other in terms of which of our minds has the last word in whom?"

"You've seen that these minds have varying degrees of influence in each person. The Ego can either trust just one, it can believe two, or it can give all three different amounts of power. So these various combinations give a total of twelve different potential relationships. Each one of them gives an individual a characteristic way of thinking. We call this 'character.'"

"There are twelve human characters?" asked Eros, surprised.

"But remember this well: never judge a person's character by his world. Worlds can be deceptively similar, even for people of entirely different characters. They can also be completely different, even when involving the same human characters. No two worlds are alike; there are as many different worlds as people."

"Then what's the significance of the twelve characters, if human worlds are so different?"

"The twelve different characters are like the twelve foundations supporting all these worlds. Each character has its own unique way of thinking, different from all others."

"But if it's all so simple, why hasn't anyone discovered this up to now?"

"The answer is simple. Everything was discovered, described, and written down. But something very human happened: blindness triumphed . . . People look right at the truth, but they don't actually see it. Instinct, Emotion, and Reason look at it, but each sees it completely differently. Each presents his own truth to the Ego, but then it trusts the truth of the mind with the greatest influence. And that's how the Ego can live its entire life in error, all the while firmly believing in its own world."

"To err is human," smiled Eros.

"I'll give an example. If Reason reads Instinct's description, he depicts it as combined inborn basic features. He'll call it instinct even though this isn't written anywhere in Instinct's description. But then Instinct thinks that Reason is heartless and is a good-for-nothing. He doesn't distort the truth any less . . . Each mind thinks differently, each speaks his own language, and each makes use of his own motifs and perception of fairness. And so each sees his own truth. This still doesn't mean that one is right and the other wrong . . . It could even happen that the truth you're holding in your hands now could be written down in black and white. But in your world you'll still come to know a different truth. So you'll overlook or misunderstand everything that should reveal the correct truth. Nobody can see it because everyone looks at it with their own eyes. That's the real truth about human blindness."

"Are these friends bothered by truths different from their own?"

"Instinct, Emotion, and Reason would gladly commit murder to defend their false truths. That's why they have already beheaded so many people, nailed so many to crosses, and burned so many at the stake . . . simply for getting close to the truth. But those that know the truth realize it can't be destroyed or changed. Many have portrayed it in stories, works of art, architecture, or music. That's how it's become accessible to those that are able to know it . . . Pay attention to coincidences that aren't coincidences. They're hidden in pictures, words, and numbers. Three, four, seven, twelve, thirteen, and twenty-one. These numbers mean something; they symbolize secrets of the truth, which is always visible, but only to those that are worthy."

"If people cannot see the truth, how can I then help you restore it to humanity?"

"There's one truth Instinct, Reason, and Emotion are willing to renounce everything for. It's called love."

"So why don't these three friends want to know the real truth?"

"They're fighting for their own power and authority; they're unfair, so they try to make their truths into the right one."

"Is the truth really that important?"

"There are many people who turn human blindness to their own advantage. Without Life to keep stirring things up, it would be hell on Earth."

"Is it possible for the Ego to start out trusting one of the minds, but then suddenly change its perspective and give a different one priority?"

"Once the Ego has distributed the relative importance to each mind while the person is growing up, this can't be changed . . . The only things people can change are their houses and their worlds. When these are changed, the person is utterly changed, too, even if his way of thinking isn't changed in the slightest."

"I understand. As the old Latin saying goes, 'Lupus pilum mutat, non mentem,' which means that the wolf can change its coat but not its character."

"Worlds can be changed, but never characters."

"My brother and I had completely different views of the world!"

"Ares trusts Instinct. He's always seen only danger in you. He was afraid you were a threat."

"So Ares' behavior isn't his fault? The fault is with his Instinct, who's taken him along a bad road!"

"You're not entirely right. Life created a whole, which means that Instinct is also part of him . . . He also should have listened to what Emotion and Reason had to say."

"Who is this Life you keep talking about?"

"I think we've strayed from the question."

"You said I could ask whatever I wanted!"

"Long, long ago when the first life on Earth arose through a coincidence that wasn't a coincidence, Life was also created. It developed and learned that it could achieve perfection only through imperfection, immortality only through mortality, and sense only through nonsense. So Life created mortal beings that could perfect their bodies by changing them until they could successfully cope with environmental dangers."

"Darwin's theory of evolution."

"Charles Robert Darwin. I had to really peck his head hard until it finally dawned on him that we Galapagos finches had different beaks. Otherwise even today people would see god in everything, and the devil would still be the excuse for all human idiocy," returned the dog.

"You said that Life created mortal beings that live in bodies like mine. Does this mean that Life doesn't have a body of its own? How can something that doesn't have a body create, and how can it think without brains?"

"Humans never discovered the truth about Life."

"Isn't it about time that we get an answer?"

The dog went silent and at that moment all creatures on Earth froze. Every living thing, plants and animals, suddenly paused. Including Eros.

"Life is in living beings and its thoughts fill each and every brain. But its power is hidden in how everything is connected into one whole. Each Ego is simply a piece of the one and only Life. They aren't aware of that during their own lives, as you'd imagine. Life created the three friends—minds—in its image for the Ego, so it could survive without direct connection with others. The first to be created was Instinct, then Emotion, and finally Reason. Although the three friends do represent the entirety of your own mind, they only occupy a tiny part of your brain. They're your eyes, window to the world, interpreters and advisors, friends and companions. But that is only during the time of your mortal existence, and then the three friends die along with your body. After death the Ego becomes Life again. Like a drop trickling into the ocean. That's truly the eternal circle of Life."

"It sees all and knows all. It's omnipotent and is in each of us. Now I see what I wasn't able to understand before. Life is the total connection of all living beings. It's in our brains, but is so mighty that our humble minds cannot perceive its perfection . . . No wonder it can hear our thoughts and know everything! So Life has all the perceptions and memories of all living beings in the world, and that's always been the case!... Is there any way for us to enter into the mind of Life?"

"Not during your lifetime."

"What about dreams, hypnosis, and other altered states? Can they make it possible for us to enter its perfect world, learn about the things we're interested in, and maybe even see our prior worlds?"

"No, because all of these things are just figments of the human imagination. Life's mind is so different that Instinct, Emotion, and Reason cannot breach it."

"Is that why you've appeared to me as a metaphor?"

"Believe you me . . . if someone sees my metaphor, there must be something terribly wrong with humanity."

"But I still don't understand how all of this is connected with love?"

"The three friends have such different views that they can hardly ever agree. But when you meet someone that impresses all three, they put their rivalry on hold and start to live in harmony."

"And that harmony is being in love!" Eros remembered the feeling of completeness that he'd experienced with Sarena.

"Falling in love is anticipating another world: the three minds' illusion of the world they're entering without seeing or knowing it. We perceive the harmony that develops between the three friends as the feeling of indescribable happiness that accompanies being in love. At the same time this also represents total loss of objectivity, of course. When the three minds stop competing with one another, they can do anything: even make an angel out of a devil. Their lies blind you to the truth. They show you the most amazing vision. A vision that seems perfect because there's no one to oppose it."

"In our world we only see what they tell us about . . . That's why it seemed to me that Sarena wasn't human, but a goddess!"

"That's the truth. If one of them realizes one day that someone else's world may be incompatible with ours, the three end up arguing. Generally the first to revolt is Instinct, who is suspicious and pessimistic . . . The discovery of the truth brings disappointment . . . Emotion, who strongly resists change, needs more time before he's willing to give up his attractive vision of the beloved person."

Eros was absorbed in thought.

"Sarena's Emotion still kept seeing the picture of her first love and not me. Only her Reason liked me, and so her minds weren't able to get along. There was a conflict between her minds raging within her that caused her sadness and depression. When she told me that she'd made love to him, only my Reason understood that. It recognized the truth and got into a fight with Emotion, who was unwilling to give up his beautiful vision. Their argument caused unending suffering in me. I well remember how part of me said no, but the other part wasn't able to accept that!"

"So do you owe me a favor?" asked the dog.

"Then love is the joining of two worlds! . . . Yes, I really do owe you one!" responded Eros, after a long silence.

He felt the lifting of the sadness that had weighed against his chest like a sandbag ever since he and Sarena had parted.

"Your words have miraculously banished my pain, and so I am in your debt to the end of my life," said Eros, with an inner feeling of infinite peace.

"Remember: only those that accept their own worlds can join worlds with another. People have lost faith in Life's wisdom and reason has overpowered love. They are prisoners of their own houses and are suffering, unhappy and alone . . . You have received the key and now Life is imploring you to help people on Earth open the door to love."

Eros looked at the dog and saw his pleading eyes. Slowly he began to grasp how important was the task before him.

"I'll do what you say! I've got the key . . . but how will I know which door to open?"

"Help those that cannot recognize the truth in the light of your eyes."

". . . And what is that truth?"

"You'll recognize it when the time comes."

"Then how can I persuade people if I don't even know it myself?"

"Your mind understands it, and that's enough . . . You are holding a power of unimaginable greatness in your hands, and so you'll most certainly be faced with many opponents. Those that do not know me will not be the worst ones. Those whose blinded minds are convinced that they're speaking on my behalf will. On my behalf they'll fight the truth that you bring, afraid of losing that which they have protected for so long. Your truth is the truth of love, which can only come from me . . . I'll give you seven proofs, solid ones. Everyone in the world will then be able to see that your truth is not the truth of the human mind. I'll reveal seven secrets to you not unraveled by even the best scholars. But the blind do not know that they are not able to see. They see only what they want to see—doubt about the truth. The seventh proof will be the most powerful one, but you may not reveal it until the right time has come. It is intended for those that doubt."

Eros was silent, thinking about Life's words.

How on earth did it find me worthy of this task? he suddenly thought, and the dog answered:

"You loved your mortal enemy, put your first love's happiness before your own, and stepped from the sky onto solid ground. Is there anyone more fair than you?"

Eros knew he hadn't asked the question aloud.

". . . Be respectful of the secrets, because behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence!"

The dog lifted his leg against an old pine, and then disappeared among the trees like a ghost.

A metaphor that pisses. That Life really knows how to make an impression, smiled Eros to himself.

***

Meanwhile, the dusk over the forest was searching for stars that would raise it towards the sky, but the stars were too high up to offer it a hand.

Eros continued pondering for a long time.

As though he had lit a light in the darkness, his life shone forth in a completely new light. The radiance of his thoughts was as clear as the water that flows down from the mountains and as unstoppable as the highest ocean wave.

The sun slowly came out and extended its hand to the dusk, so that it could raise itself towards the sky. The first rays of the sun touched the leaves on the trees and the sun's warm love poured over the clearing.

Eros stood up and the forest breeze caught the scent of his body. Tufts of grass turned green and the tips of branches budded as if wanting to touch his naked body. Even a tiny snail slid out of its shell and raised its horns high up in the air.

Suddenly everything in the clearing came to a standstill, all of the tiny creatures and all of the plants, and all sorrow, worries, and suffering disappeared like dreams touched by the morning. Expecting to be kissed again by the forest breeze, their tiny bodies, leaves, and stems tensed up as if having absorbed the drops of dew from the moist ground. They were overwhelmed by an immeasurable lust for love.

With every breath their desire escalated and their thoughts merged in order to be able to touch Life. It was as though they had entered spring in the middle of winter.

In the tips of their limbs, leaves, and needles they soon felt a gentle tingling; an indescribably beautiful sensation that grew and slowly emanated from their bodies. Then their breath was taken away.

Eros didn't notice the harmony that had taken over the life in the clearing. He bent over a small puddle that had formed in a hollow among the leaves and grass. What he saw in it took even the wind's breath away.

The surface of the water became still and the reflection he saw cleared as though he were watching it in a mirror. The sculpted body facing him with its nudity called up dreams, and the taut muscles sparkled in the sun as though someone had overlaid them with gold leaf. His olive complexion was smooth as the softness of a feather and the strength of his perfect body reflected from his arms on the water's surface. His broad shoulders were undaunted by their heavy burden and the sensual fingers of his hands could caress the stars in the night sky. His penis was large and handsome, almost hungry for love, and his gaze was as clear as the day after a rain, and mysteriously attractive.

Eros touched his chest with his fingers to make sure that he was really seeing a reflection of his own image. He stared into the shimmering depth of his own eyes and in the end felt the truth of power.

He closed his eyes. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath of the air in the clearing. Then he dropped to his knees and made love to himself until his semen fell seven times onto the moist leaves that covered the black forest soil.

***

Eros spotted a house with a crooked fence surrounding a neglected garden. He moved closer and noticed that the house had an unusual shape. It was made entirely of flat rectangular panels with a smoky gray sheen reminiscent of the patina on old silver. The roof was flat and so were the windows and doors, which were also made from the same panels. The whole thing reminded him more of a big box than a house.

He pushed the low rusty gate, which was barely clinging to the fence, so that it screeched open. A narrow paved path covered with leaves led to the house. The trampled stalks and flowers of daffodils that had been picked from along the fence were lying on the ground. There wasn't a soul in sight, and only the polished black shoes with leather soles on the step in front of the door suggested that someone was living in the house.

He rang the doorbell. There wasn't a sound, so he put his ear against the door and rang again... Again nothing. Then he knocked.

"Come in!"

Eros went in and stood there dumbfounded.

"I'll be right there," said a voice in the adjacent room, from which he could hear the sound of water running.

It was fairly hot and stuffy inside the house. No matter where he looked, mirrors were all he could see. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of large mirrored panels. Although the room was rather small it looked enormous. The reflections from the mirrors enlarged the room into infinity and all the objects in it repeated endlessly in the reflections.

"Make yourself at home. I'll be right there."

Eros walked around the room and amused himself by looking at his own twisted image in the wavy mirrored wall. His legs suddenly came up almost to his neck and his head looked like a giant potato. When he moved a little, his nose turned into a long beak and his body looked like a baroque tabernacle. He spent some time moving around like this, laughing at the images in front of him, but then he noticed some photographs on the mirrored dresser. There were a lot of them, and Eros examined them with interest.

His eyes fixed on a photo that had been taken at a dance competition. The couples were wearing numbers on their lavish attire and a woman in a shimmering short dress was gazing with awe at the young man standing next to her. The man was facing the photographer and his white teeth gleamed against his bronzed face.

The water stopped running.

"I'm done," said the voice in the adjacent room.

Eros sat down on a chair, which was also upholstered in tiny mirrors. On the table he noticed sketches of posters showing an angel holding a bow and an arrow in his hands. Playing cards, two dice, and a lottery ticket were lying scattered next to an ashtray full of stubbed-out cigarettes. The shriveled daffodil in a vase in the middle of the table had already bowed its head long before and was just waiting for someone to respectfully throw it away.

"Do you know what a girl says after her tenth consecutive orgasm?"

"No," replied Eros.

"Thank you, Olivier!"

Eros smiled:

"Is that your name?"

"Yes, and who are you?"

"Eros."

"So what's up, Eros?"

"I wouldn't know."

"What brings you to my house?"

"The first house I saw was yours and so I stopped by."

"Really, just like that? Nice, that's never happened to me before."

"Me neither."

A young man with a fair complexion and a slim figure came in from the adjacent room. His black hair was still wet, but neatly combed to one side. Eros recognized the narrow face he'd seen in the photos on the dresser. The man looked at himself in the mirror, smoothed his eyebrows with his fingers, walked up to Eros, and shook his hand firmly.

"Olivier," he said and buttoned the sleeve of his impeccably ironed shirt with his left hand.

"Eros."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

Olivier lit himself a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Not so much that I'd leave your house," replied Eros.

Olivier moved to the window and opened it slightly.

"Are you happy?" asked Eros suddenly.

"Am I happy?" Olivier wondered at this question and blew smoke towards the ceiling.

"Not only am I happy, I could say I'm the happiest man on Earth!"

The man walked to the dresser and picked up a photo of himself and a blonde girl with their arms around each other.

"This is Ivana, the most beautiful woman in the world! She's everything I've ever wanted," he said with a sparkle in his eyes.

Eros took the photo in his hand and examined it.

"I'm off to a date," Olivier went on. "Wait for me! You can sleep here if you want."

"Do you have any food in the house?" asked Eros, who couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

"The kitchen's behind this door... You'll find something in the fridge."

Olivier went out to the yard, picked a couple of daffodils from the flower bed and headed off towards the valley.

Eros thought about what the young man had told him and for a moment he felt that he had come to the wrong house. Clearly the guy was happily in love. How could he open the door to love here if it was already in the house?

He started doing the dishes, which seemed to have been piling up in the sink for quite some time.

When he was done, he took a tour of the house. The bedroom was at the back. He noticed a photo of Olivier's parents on the wall above the unmade bed. There were many smaller photos hanging there next to it. In all of them the young man was smiling and looking happy. He spotted a chessboard with figures on the shelf. He noticed that the white queen was lying down, while the other figures were distributed across the black-and-white squares. Eros didn't get the message.

Twilight came and the young man appeared on the doorstep smiling wide.

"How was your date?" asked Eros.

"Wonderful!"

"So why are you still holding the daffodils in your hand?" asked Eros in surprise.

"Because she didn't show again!" sighed Olivier and threw the bouquet on the floor. He bowed his head and his smile disappeared as though he had taken off a mask. He sat down on a chair and covered his face with his hands.

"Tell me your story and perhaps you'll feel better."

"I don't understand what Ivana still sees in him! He's ugly and boring. He doesn't deserve her love... She keeps going back to him and only uses me for comfort. Why can't she see his unfaithfulness and realize that my love is true? She'll always be unhappy with him."

Olivier lit himself a cigarette with shaky hands. Then he looked at his image in the mirror and blew out the smoke in front of him in order to blur his view of the mirror.

"I have some good news and some bad news," said Eros. "The bad news is that you don't have the girl, but the good news is that you have a friend."

Olivier smiled:

"But how can I be content with you? She's what I've been looking for my whole life, and only she can awaken the feeling of happiness within me. Ivana's everything I want!"

Eros got up, walked to the dresser and picked up a few photos:

"... And before Ivana this was...?"

"... Agnes," replied Olivier, when he saw the photo Eros held under his nose.

"... and..."

"... Beatrice... Carmella, Dora, Elise, Felicia, Grazia, and Hannah... But that's nothing compared to what I feel for Ivana!" Olivier defended himself.

"Perhaps not now, but it was back then," replied Eros. "This story keeps repeating itself, but it always seems to you that it's not the same. You can't escape from the vicious circle. Every lesson Life offers you is useless if you learn nothing from it."

"But what is there to learn? That I'm not attractive enough? Does this mean I don't deserve to be happy?" asked Olivier.

"The purpose of life is not the fulfillment all of our wishes, but a lesson we must learn. Happiness is merely a reward for success. If we manage to figure out what Life is saying to you, you'll also find the happiness you yearn for."

"Anything would be better than suffering like this!" Olivier was desperate.

"I'm familiar with that kind of suffering, but there's some wisdom that can heal it faster than you're willing to believe," said Eros, who now felt what his mission was.

"Has anything like this ever happened to you?"

"Yes, her name was Sarena and I believed she was the most perfect being in the world," Eros began telling his story.

"Tell me everything, I want to hear every detail!" Olivier exclaimed, and then Eros told him his story. Their conversation lasted late into the night, until they were so tired that they fell asleep right there at the table.

The sun shone through the window, reflecting blindingly from the mirrored surfaces.

Eros was awakened by the clattering of pots in the kitchen. He looked at the clock on the wall, which showed twenty-two minutes past ten, but this was precisely what it had been showing the day before. He noticed that the pendulum in the clock was still.

Olivier was standing in the corner of the kitchen, looking at his profile in the mirror:

"Do you think I'm going bald?"

Eros moved the pot of foaming milk off the stove:

"You do have a high forehead."

Olivier brushed his hair towards his forehead with his fingers.

A young puppy with light fur ran into the kitchen and gazed at Olivier with love in her eyes. She was holding a bunch of daffodils in her mouth and wagging her bushy tail.

"Emmie, you've been picking flowers again," said Olivier, softening.

"I didn't know you had a dog."

"She's my most loyal companion, but I just can't teach her not to pick flowers from the flower bed."

"I also had a dog once," sighed Eros, petting Emmie.

The puppy lay on her back and raised her paws.

"Tell me about Ivana," said Eros.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. How did you two meet and what do you find so attractive about her?"

"I saw her jogging in the park several times. One day, when she had already run a couple of times around the pond, past me, I asked her if she'd lost anything because she kept coming around the same way. She laughed and replied that she hoped she'd lost a couple of pounds. And then I took her out for ice cream," said Olivier, combing his tousled hair.

"Everything was wonderful until that stupid jerk interfered... They'd been together for seven years before I came along, but he basically just exploited her kindness that whole time. She caught him with another woman... When she was with me, all I had to do was look away and she was already thinking I didn't love her any more. She was always looking for faults in me. I was never good enough for her."

"But you were actually in love with her!"

"Oh, yes, and how! Soon I didn't know what else I could do. I longed for her to like me. I remember inviting her to a dance once. I wanted her to be proud of me... I'd taken dance lessons for several years and when we arrived on the dance floor I did my best. But she ran into a girlfriend there and completely stopped paying attention to me. I was totally depressed... She often talked about other men and I thought she was only trying to upset me. When she met her friends, she laughed and touched them. It hurt me when she looked at them with her beautiful eyes."

"Did you meet her parents?"

"I did. Her father's a real tyrant and very jealous. He thinks for all his family members and, if he doesn't have things his way, he gets furious. Her mother thinks he loves her, so she silently puts up with all of his whims and constantly cleans the house. But he actually acts like he hates her rather than loves her. He's completely different with his mother, who lives with them. He's really attentive and loving with her... I was taking a walk by the river late in the evening once and caught him with some other woman. Since then he's been very nice to me."

"You said that Ivana was also jealous. Was she often preoccupied with worries and fears?"

"Was she ever! She kept checking to see if we'd locked the door... she was afraid we'd get robbed. She never let me eat in my white shirt because she was sure I'd spill food on it. When there was a flu epidemic, she'd cover her mouth with a handkerchief to avoid catching it. She always checked her receipts and counted her change at the store. Whenever I went somewhere, she was afraid something would happen to me, and when I told her I loved her I had the feeling she didn't believe me. She was very mistrustful, especially towards people she didn't know. She was convinced that practically everyone had bad intentions and, when something bad happened, she'd repeat a hundred times 'See, what did I tell you!'"

"Instinct," said Eros.

"What instinct? Come on, she predicted a bad ending to everything, and if something really did end badly once in a while of course it couldn't be any way other than how she'd predicted it."

"I wasn't referring to instinct, but to her mind, Instinct... Everyone has three friends in their head that describe the world around them to them. They're called Instinct, Emotion, and Reason. Each of them sees the world through their own eyes but, because people trust them to varying degrees, everyone sees the truth in their own unique way. What you've described is typical of the way Instinct thinks."

"And what does that mean for me?"

"It means you have to win over her Instinct! Because he's her main confidant he's the one that decides who she'll open her heart to."

"Does this mean that she'll fall in love with me only when some mind tells her to?" Olivier asked, surprised.

"Precisely! When her Instinct feels you're the right one for her, he'll represent your best colors to her Ego, and because Ivana trusts him she'll want to be only with you. It may happen that Reason and Emotion oppose him, but this won't play a major role. Ivana only listens to Instinct, which means that she usually turns a deaf ear to the thoughts of Emotion and Reason. This won't be an easy task. Her Instinct seeks her father in every man... If you were able to convince all three friends of your love, you would become her Prince Charming and she would see you as the most perfect being in the world."

"But I am the most perfect being in the world!"

"Of course, it's just a question of whose world," replied Eros, laughing.

"In Emmie's and my mother's world," said Olivier.

He wasn't aware of how imperceptibly the pain slipped out of his heart. New hope shed light on the dark pictures that had been ripping at his longing for love like wild beasts until then. He was overtaken by a feeling of happiness and a smile brought two tiny wrinkles to his cheeks.

Eros noticed the cheerfulness in his eyes and that was a good sign.

"We'll make a plan! We'll think about how to impress her Instinct and put on a show for him like he's never seen before!"

"Excellent!" Olivier was thrilled to hear this.

"Let me think it over. Instinct is the oldest of the three friends. He's convinced that he has to protect Ivana against all danger. He's mistrustful, suspicious, and pessimistic, which is why he's often paranoid and has countless things to worry about. He's resentful and believes that things will end badly. He runs away from problems and speaks the language of fear," said Eros, thinking aloud.

"So we shouldn't scare him."

"Actually, it's the opposite: we have to scare him well, but in such a way that you end up being her savior. This is a way to try to earn this mind's trust."

"I didn't know this was so simple," Olivier was surprised.

"If you understood how Instinct thinks, this wouldn't seem so unusual to you. People with his character often fall for people they meet in places where they face their own fears... like at airports, hospitals, or in accidents and during other life trials. But we have to be convincing and very cautious. Instinct isn't gullible. If Ivana discovers our deception, this won't have a good ending for you!"

"But she won't know it's a trick."

"Is Ivana afraid of anything in particular?"

"Heights," remembered Olivier. "She's terrified of heights. She gets dizzy just looking over the balcony railing."

"You could take her to the amusement park to have a ride on the Ferris wheel."

"And then she could parachute from the top!" Olivier was all excited.

"I thought you wanted to win her heart, not kill her! Before you two are lifted up into the sky, make arrangements with the Ferris wheel operator. When you're up at the highest point, he'll stop the wheel for a while and you'll be able to save her heroically."

Olivier jumped for joy.

"And how you will convince her to go with you?"

"That won't be a problem! She's obsessed with an incorrigible womanizer. She'll soon be disappointed and will call me again."

"So all we have to do is wait for her call," said Eros, looking at Olivier.

Olivier was absorbed in the mirror before him, studying his own mischievous smile. Eros watched him for a while and then asked him:

"But what were your dates with her like?"

"I worked hard to show her my very best colors."

"Perhaps it would've been better if you'd shown her your true colors. Didn't she like your house?" asked Eros.

"How can you even question that? Who else has a house as beautiful as this? Look at other houses, they're all the same and boring, but mine is beautiful and special."

"Then why did you have to make things look more beautiful then?"

"Well, because of the surroundings! Outside it's dirty and neglected..."

Their conversation was interrupted by the phone ringing.

Olivier was standing by the tall fence, holding a bouquet of daffodils and marveling at the colorful play of the light, when suddenly tiny little fingers stole it away from him. He recognized the scent of warm bread and honey. That's how her hands smelled.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered in his ear.

As though this weren't a worn-out cliché, but rather a magical spell, Olivier forgot all about his grief in an instant. He was like a butterfly that the wind was tossing around the meadow, and every time his lips touched Ivana it was like he landed on a new flower and drank the nectar. When he was with her, he forgot all about what had gone before and didn't think about what was yet to come. The only thing that mattered was this single infinite moment of happiness being with her.

"We're closing for the day, Sir," said the ticket taker.

Olivier grabbed Ivana's hand and ran towards the Ferris wheel, which sleepily overlooked the amusement park.

"Wait here for a moment!"

He walked to the ticket booth and spent some time pleading with the man with a long gray beard.

When he grabbed Ivana's hand again, the last visitors were leaving the car that had just stopped by the ticket booth.

Ivana hesitated, but Olivier put his arms around her tightly and sat her down on the upholstered bench. The vast contraption began to move. The lights became distant and people turned into ants. Ivana peeked over the rail and admired the lights in the distance.

"Look, that's our house!" she squealed, pointing her finger in the direction of her house.

Suddenly the brakes creaked loudly and the giant wheel came to a stop.

"Something's wrong!" said Olivier seriously.

Ivana blanched:

"What could be wrong?"

"I don't know, this thing's over a hundred years old and the materials gradually wear out. Maybe the engine broke down or one of the steel cables corroded... they've been rained on for a hundred years now."

"What do we do now?" Ivana began crying.

"Nothing, I'll climb onto the frame and try turning the wheel by hand," Olivier was determined.

"Don't go, you might slip and fall, please, don't leave me, Olivier!... Help! Help!" she screamed hysterically, but her voice was disappearing in the distance as though the clouds were soaking it up.

Olivier opened the gates of the car. Ivana looked at him pleadingly. She was on the verge of tears:

"But you'll die, please don't go, Olivier, please!"

His head sank out of sight and Ivana had never felt so alone. She didn't dare move. She clung to the bench with her tiny fingers, moaning in terror. Her body shivered as though she'd been pulled up from a frozen pond.

Olivier descended to the ground and firmly shook the Ferris wheel operator's hand. A thin voice could be heard in the distance, screaming for help.

His mischievous eyes turned towards the car and his heart leapt with joy.

"So, where's your hero—your ex—now, when you need him?" he said and began laughing at the top of his voice. "Ivana, my darling, you'll have to climb down, the wheel's falling apart!" he shouted loudly into the air.

Barely audible shrieks could be heard from above.

"Should we let her down? She'll have a stroke otherwise!" asked the man, running his fingers through his beard.

"Not yet... as long as her voice is so strong, she's very much alive," replied Olivier, running his finger along the drive gear. He smeared the black grease over his hands and face so that he looked like he had just stepped out of a coal mine. Then he leaned against the ticket booth rail with his elbows.

"I didn't know this Ferris wheel was so much fun. You learn something new every day!"

When the shrieking subsided, the man pulled the brake and the wheel began to slowly move again. As Ivana approached the ground her shrieks became increasingly louder, until the contraption came to a halt. Eventually, the gate opened and it seemed as though the pale Ivana was getting up from a coffin and not a car.

"You barbarians, how can you let people onto this corroded thing! I could've died and to top it all off you think this is funny! I'll report you to the cops!" Ivana was furiously yelling at the Ferris wheel operator.

But he just shrugged his shoulders.

Ivana ran towards Olivier and threw her arms tightly around him.

"Thank you, thank you, dear God, for letting us stay alive!" she blurted out almost in a whisper and fat tears started running down her cheeks.

Olivier patted her shoulder, barely containing his laughter.

"Every bad thing is good for something," said the man and winked at Olivier.

Ivana had never truly felt anything more than friendship for Olivier. But from the moment she stepped out of that car, she felt differently about him, as though something had removed the heavy chains that had repeatedly pulled her somewhere else. In her eyes he became the support she could lean on, someone that loved her and was even willing to risk his life for her. At that moment, Olivier became the one that could conquer all of her fears.

She suddenly wanted to be close to him and Olivier noticed the gleam in her eyes he had always dreamed of. There was no one else in her thoughts now.

All of this lasted for nine and a half weeks. Olivier was in seventh heaven.

Then one afternoon Ivana was taking a walk along the iron fence surrounding the amusement park and she was suddenly halted in her tracks by a loud, screeching noise. She caught sight of the giant contraption, which was slowly coming to a stop. She watched how the wheel stopped again and again so that the people in the lowest car could comfortably step out.

She remembered that terrible moment when she had stepped out of the car herself. Then she also remembered Olivier's face, and how he hadn't seemed worried at all. He'd been standing by the ticket booth and not the car, where he should've been waiting if he'd been truly worried about her. Ivana understood that she'd been tricked, and now the time had come for her to take her revenge on Olivier.

Eros was standing in front of the bed of daffodils holding a metal watering can in his hands and wondering how they could still be all withered and wilted after he'd been regularly watering them for weeks. He bent down and smelled the earth. It was loose and smelled of pear wood and mown grass, which means the daffodils should have been lifting their yellow flowers high up in the air and their long narrow leaves should have been succulent and green. He didn't know what else he could do for them. He plucked a few petals and chewed them.

"How could I be so stupid!" Eros reproached himself. "Life most definitely didn't explain the functioning of the three minds to me so that I could deceive people through my behavior! I fulfilled the young man's wish using a trick instead of helping him understand and find true love. I'll have to be more careful in the future not to do people more harm than good. How could I even think that this could solve his problems."

Olivier hadn't left the house for several days now. He'd been crying inconsolably because of Ivana and had believed it was really her that he was crying over. His heart was aching, his eyes ached, and his unhappy fate gave him pain. He couldn't eat or sleep, but the worst thing was that the pain wouldn't leave his heart. He thought the sun would never shine for him again.

But this morning was sunny and warm. A strong wind was rustling the birch's long branches and Eros watched to see if it would also flatten the daffodils. He thought about life, love, and Olivier's misfortune, and suddenly recalled the words that the dog had spoken in the forest: If one day one of the friends realizes that the world of another might not be compatible with ours, the three minds begin to fight. Instinct is usually the first to stand up because he's suspicious and pessimistic... Discovering the truth brings disappointment. Emotion, who only changes his pictures slowly and with great difficulty, needs much more time until he's willing to abandon the attractive illusion of his beloved person.

Did Olivier's inconsolable grief and pain mean that Emotion was his most important friend?... The door to his house was always open and his thoughts were not black. He's gullible and has a talent for dancing. It seemed that Instinct didn't play a major role with him. Reason controls time, but the clock on Olivier's wall stood still... Only Reason would have understood the language Eros had wanted to use to comfort him. But his words had passed him by as though Eros had been standing by the river bed and saying them to the water flowing by.

He looked at the clock on the wall, which still showed twenty-two past ten. He thought about how he could comfort Olivier. If Emotion really was his most important mind, he must still be clinging to Ivana's picture. Instinct and Reason saw through her and had forgotten her a long time ago, but their word wasn't important. This caused a fight in Olivier's head, which he was experiencing as immense sorrow. The three friends were now dealing with their internal problems instead of the external world. That's why he was feeling sorry for himself and didn't see the beauty of life around him.

Eros watched a butterfly sitting on a yellow flower, flapping its colorful wings. Such fragile and delicate creatures, but their species nonetheless managed to outlive even the dinosaurs. What was the secret of their success? This question led Eros to another idea.

He stepped over to Olivier and told him:

"Cry!"

"Can't you see that I am crying?" Olivier looked at him, flabbergasted.

"Cry more!"

"But what for?"

"Because nobody likes you!"

"What do you mean, nobody likes me"?

"No one in the world likes you!" Eros was serious.

"Not even you?"

"Me the least of all! Feel sorry for yourself and lament your fate!"

Emmie was sleeping under the table and was awakened by their argument. She stood next to her master as though to defend him and looked at Eros in surprise.

"Why are you bossing me around?" Olivier was surprised.

"Because your Emotion won't stand for it!"

Olivier didn't understand what Eros was talking about. He was confused and a little angry.

"... And don't you ever walk on the daffodils again!" added Eros, slamming the door behind him.

"They don't grow in your garden!"

How can he say that no one likes me? thought Olivier to himself. Everyone loves me and he's no exception.

He didn't notice that in the meantime his sorrow had been replaced by anger. And that wasn't so bad at all.

Eros was sitting on the rickety chair in front of the bed of daffodils as though his presence would somehow improve their growth. His eyes rested on a tiny flower with six white petals and he wondered: Aren't daffodils supposed to be yellow? Why did that one turn so white? Wondering about this, he noticed that there were more daffodils with white flowers in the group than yellow ones. He was astonished to see that among the single-flowered daffodils there were also double-flowered ones and that they also differed in size. Some were miniature and others were tall, then there were the white single-flowered ones and those with a dark margin... How could he stare at these simple flowers every day and water them and not notice until that very day that so many different species grew in a small patch of land?

The realization that things could be right in front of your nose and that you could stare right at them but still not see them made Eros think. At that moment, he realized what the key to Olivier's unhappy love was. Why hadn't he thought of this before... the daffodils had been hiding the answer all this time!

Narcissus, the beautiful son of the god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope, wanted to kiss his own reflection, which he saw on the water's surface. When he realized that what he saw was only his reflection, he grabbed Amenius' sword and stabbed himself. His corpse then turned into a flower that was named after him.

Eros went into the house and shook Olivier by his shoulders with both hands:

"Olivier, you're a narcissist! You're in love with yourself and that's why your house is made of nothing but mirrors! You keep seeing only yourself and your own beauty. The girls you thought you were in love with were only the surface of the lake. Because you keep looking at them in order to find yourself in them, they think they're not attractive enough next to you and that repels them."

Olivier remained silent.

"Can't you see? This is the vicious circle you can't escape from!"

For the first time in his life Olivier felt what it was like to look truth in the eye.

"But I'm not a robot that you can fix with a simple screwdriver?!"

"First we'll fix your house and garden. This will also change your notions about your world!"

Eros set a ladder against the house so that they could climb onto the roof. They unscrewed the mirrored panels and then turned each one around, so that the mirror side pointed outwards, and screwed it back on.

"Does this mean that now I won't be beautiful anymore?" asked Olivier.

"Rather than accepting your own world, you fell in love with the illusion of your house. You covered everything in mirrors so you could see what you wanted to in them, but not the truth."

"Are you trying to say that my house isn't real?"

"Of course it's not real! Trust me and you'll see that truth is better than a lie."

When the roof was nearly done, the sun started beating against the mirrors.

"Look, now you have two suns, one above and one below!" smiled Eros.

Olivier looked at him and saw how light was reflecting off of Eros' naked body.

"Eros, you're stark naked!"

The glass panel in Olivier's hands slid to the ground and broke.

"Yes, I've been like this since the first day I stepped into your house, but all this time you've been so self-absorbed that you haven't noticed it."

"Why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

"Only the naked truth can visit the worlds of others. Anything else would just distort their beauty," replied Eros.

Soon all the panels were turned around and the house was no longer gray and patinated, but shiny and bright from the outside. The sun that reflected against the panels shone on the bed of daffodils, which eagerly absorbed it into their tired leaves. Their flowers suddenly perked up and their leaves were filled with the sap of life. This gave them a nice green color.

Olivier mowed the lawn and cleaned the paving in front of the house, and Eros fixed the fence and oiled the gate. Then they started working on the interior. They hung photos on the wall and cleaned the kitchen.

Because the rays of the sun were now reflecting off the mirrors, it was no longer hot and stuffy, but comfortably fresh inside the house. Olivier was thrilled, and when they sat down at the table all tired out in the evening, he felt like he'd been reborn.

"Now you won't have to embellish your world with lies any longer. You'll describe it just the way it is and people will see themselves in your house," said Eros with satisfaction.

"You were right! Truth is better than a lie, why didn't I see this before?"

"Have you noticed that you haven't lit a single cigarette since we fixed your house?!"

"I think it wasn't just my house we fixed!" replied Olivier, surprised.

"Well, that's right," smiled Eros and looked out the window.

The evening sun was slowly setting and the sky above the valley was covered in orange and scarlet colors.

Eros saw a dark shadow moving across the field in the distance. He recognized the silhouette of the rider.

"I have to leave now!"

"Just now that we've cleaned and arranged everything so nicely?"

"Ares, my brother, is following me. He wants to take me back home."

"You've changed my life. I don't know how to thank you. Stay a little bit longer."

"I have a lot of work to do. I promised I'd help Life and I never break my word. You owe me nothing. If you're happy, you share your happiness with me!"

"I'd like you to take this mirror as a memento of a friend to whom you've shown the way out of the abyss," said Olivier, taking a small mirror down from the wall.

The sky was suddenly obscured by clouds and rain drops pounded ever harder against the roof. It was soon raining cats and dogs.

Someone knocked heavily on the door. Olivier and Eros stopped dead.

The door opened and a girl came in, soaking wet. She had a soft complexion and large eyes. Water was dripping from her curls and her cheeks were red.

"I apologize for barging in like this. I was nearby and got caught in the rain," she said in an extremely pleasant voice.

Emmie wagged her tail as though she knew the girl from somewhere. Olivier went to her, spent a few moments looking her in the eyes and then gently raised her hand and kissed it, bowing low.

For the first time in his life he did this from the bottom of his heart.

"Come in! I've been waiting for you my whole life," he said, kindly, and two little lines appeared on his cheeks.

***

Rain and storm clouds usually clear up and the sun comes out, but this time everything was wrapped in gloomy gray as though it were only now about to rain. The tall concrete wall with coiled barbwire was followed by a narrow sidewalk like a long shadow. The wall and sidewalk looked like they had no end, and so their parallelism was exhaustingly boring.

Eros walked along the wall for a while and began to have the feeling that someone was watching him. He turned around but there wasn't a soul in sight.

While he was walking like this, he heard a thin voice above him similar to the buzzing of a bee caught in a jar of honey. He turned around again and noticed a small camera staring down at him from the top of the wall not far from where he was standing.

He took a few steps back and the camera followed him. He looked around again, but there was no one that he could ask who was operating the camera on the wall.

He could have blinded the camera with his mirror, but there was no sun.

After a short while, he reached a corner above which there was a tower with tinted glass. Even more cameras were up there, staring down at him.

He didn't pay any attention to them.

He continued to walk along the wall and soon came across a road that intersected the sidewalk. He didn't notice any signs or doors anywhere, just a narrow slit in the wall.

A tattered and half-deflated soccer ball lay on the ground. Eros bent over and picked it up. He noticed it was black on one side as though it had been burned in a fire. He tried to kick it over the wall, but he hit the curb with the big toe on his right foot. He grabbed his toe and jumped around in pain.

The slit in the wall began to move and a powerful hydraulic mechanism opened the heavy door before Eros. He went in. Blinding lights flickered on one after another in the small room. The door closed slowly behind him. A green light came on above the next, smaller metal door, which then opened automatically.

He went in and heard a woman's voice on the speaker:

"Please put all your personal belongings and all your clothes in the plastic box."

Eros placed his mirror in the container, which disappeared into the wall.

"Please stretch your arms out in front of you at shoulder height and stand with your feet a half-step apart," the voice commanded.

He did as he was told. The sign for radiation blinked on in front of him for a moment, then a bulletproof-glass door opened in front of him, and in the next room Eros found his mirror. He waited for another minute or so and then another door slid open almost without a sound.

He spotted a tall woman wearing a uniform that was slightly too tight for her. Her fine blonde hair was fastened in a bun, which only further emphasized her pronounced cheekbones. Her blue-gray eyes watched him coolly, but at the same time they revealed that the woman had already been expecting him.

"I'm Rubia... Rubia Maat! Manager of the federal prison. Please allow me to greet you on behalf of our institution."

Eros looked at her in surprise.

"In line with the rules on unannounced visits by the inspection services you can give me a written list of the inspection areas you've planned to include in your notes as well as your inspection report," the woman in the uniform continued.

"I'm Eros, but I've never heard of any rules on inspection services before."

"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you, sir."

"Offend me? Who says I'm an inspector, anyway?"

"I see, you could've also borrowed the federal prison uniform from a theater and be using it as a costume. I'd like to see your ID, please."

Eros shrugged his shoulders and the manager took the mirror from his hands. She held it in front of her eyes for a while and gave it back to him.

"Thank you."

There was nothing else for Eros to do but follow the manager. He just couldn't understand why Rubia Maat thought he was an inspector wearing a uniform.

The manager noticed traces of blood on the polished stone floor.

"Have you hurt yourself? Take off your boot... I'll go get the first aid kit," she said and disappeared through the door at the end of the hall. She came back carrying a red box.

She cleaned Eros' wound, disinfected it with iodine, and carefully bandaged his bleeding toe. While doing this, she unintentionally touched his calf with her hand.

"How long are you planning to stay, sir?"

"Please just call me Eros."

"As you wish, sir."

"As long as I need to," replied Eros.

"I see. We don't have a special guest room, so we'll put you up in solitary cell number twenty-five, which is vacant at the moment. If you need anything at all, you can find me in the control room at the center of the building."

Eros stepped into the solitary cell and looked at the green walls and the stainless-steel toilet for a while. He'd always imagined that prisons were neglected and dirty, that the walls were covered in graffiti, and that the cells had small windows with iron bars. He'd even pictured the beds as being like those in old barracks and camps. But solitary cell number twenty-five was impeccably neat, clean, and tidy and had no windows. A bright-red blanket was spread over the bunk bed, which was bolted in place.

Eros lay down and spent a long time in contemplation before he finally fell asleep. He had unusual dreams, but he no longer remembered them in the morning.

"Sir, you forgot to lock your door... I left the key in the door for you!"

Eros opened his eyes and saw Rubia Maat at the door. Because the cell had no windows, he didn't know whether it was already morning or how long he'd slept.

"Why on Earth would I want to lock myself into a solitary cell?" wondered Eros.

"... I forgot to ask you what you usually have for breakfast."

"A fried egg, sunny side up, and tea," replied Eros and splashed his face with cold water from the sink.

He continued his conversation with the manager in the dining room.

"Doesn't your institution have any windows?"

"Not anymore," Rubia Maat replied, slightly reserved.

"Does that mean that you once had them?"

"Yes, we had them once. I can assure you that our institution is among the most secure in the country. Ever since we filled in all the windows with concrete it's been completely impossible to escape from here."

Eros knew he'd touched a sensitive spot, but this didn't dissuade him from continuing.

"So what are your statistics?"

"One to one: one attempt and one successful escape. As of today, it's been eleven years and one month since the day prisoner no. 452210 used hydrochloric acid to dissolve the base of the bars in the window and escaped. After this incident we filled in all the windows in the building with reinforced concrete and prohibited the use of chemical cleaning agents," explained the manager.

Eros sensed that Rubia Maat still hadn't forgiven herself for this blunder up to that very day, and that it kept eating at her thoughts like a drop of acid.

"Our institution has four wards. I suggest that you view the first one today, except of course if you wish to start with another one."

"We can start with the first one," agreed Eros, who was starting to enjoy the fact that the manager still thought he was a federal inspector.

Rubia Maat entered the password: first an eight-digit number, and then a five-letter word. When the system confirmed the password, she touched the marked spot with her left middle finger. The indication "N2O" appeared on the screen along with a red column underneath, which rapidly fell to zero.

The door to the first ward opened. Bright white light illuminated the large round hall, in which the cells were distributed in two floors in complete symmetry. Everything was white, including the cell doors and the hall's walls, floor, and ceiling. The landing and the stairs leading to the upper floor were made of transparent laminated glass. The entire structure was composed so that there were no opaque supports or cross-pieces. In the middle of the room, a thick hank of thin filaments descended from the ceiling to the floor; it was cut off above the floor and radiated blue light directed at the round black surface beneath it.

"There are sixty cells on each floor, or a hundred and twenty altogether. The worst criminals are locked up on this ward," explained Rubia Maat.

"Are all the cells occupied?"

"Of course! We're at one hundred percent capacity."

"What's this used for?" asked Eros, examining the device hanging from the ceiling with great interest.

"Those are light fibers, which were built into the concrete walls during construction. They run from the middle of the floor, then climb the outer walls and come together again in the middle of the ceiling. The distance between them doesn't exceed six centimeters anywhere. If a single line were interrupted at any point, the light-sensitive board would sense it and an alarm would go off. No line or air duct leading from this room has a diameter of more than six centimeters, and you can enter and exit this room only through a special security door. This ensures perfect security."

Eros moved closer to a cell door and noticed that it didn't have a handle or a latch, but just a small closed hole at elbow height.

"All the cell doors are hermetically sealed. When we leave the hall, the security system releases nitrous oxide into the air. If a prisoner somehow managed to open the door to their cell, they would start inhaling the laughing gas. That would make them relax at first, but soon afterwards they would lose consciousness," explained the manager.

"Amazing! Do you know the prisoners and their life stories?"

"Of course! I know every detail of their sentences... Here, behind this door, is prisoner no. 746071. He's a notorious rapist, who in my opinion should've ended up on the stake instead of here!"

Eros sensed revulsion in the manager's voice.

"And where did he find his victims?"

"He always had one and the same victim... he raped his own wife, week after week! Sometimes it seems these kinds of criminals own both people and objects. They have no respect whatsoever. The irony in this tragic story is that we've also got his wife locked up in the women's ward. It's true that she was the victim, but at the same time she was also an accomplice because she hadn't reported her husband for several years or tried to stand up to him in any other way!"

"Maybe she simply loved him; the one that truly loves eternally forgives," commented Eros, which earned him a sharp look from the manager.

Silence reigned in the room and Eros suddenly remembered his dreams... A hand holding a giant mahogany hammer swinging at him. He jumped away and the hammer hit the floor so hard that it quivered. Then the hand started swinging the hammer again and Eros tried to avoid it like a mouse trying to run away from the cat's paws.

"Prisoner no. 827909," said Rubia Maat, knocking on the next door. "Our notorious pedophile. He should've been whipped and hanged in public. An innocent girl will carry severe traumas in her heart for the rest of her life because of him. Her parents didn't suspect anything for a number of years and even thought very highly of this man, who had a prominent position. But in the end the hand of justice pointed its finger at him!" said the manager with contempt, running her nail beneath the number as if she wanted to underline it.

Eros was surprised by the utter contempt with which Rubia Maat talked about the prisoners.

"How old was the girl?"

"Barely seventeen and a half!" replied the manager and walked to the next door:

"Another despicable man is rotting behind this door and a pox on the mother that gave birth to him!"

"Is his mother locked up, too?" asked Eros with surprise.

"No, but she should be! Parents are responsible for their children; they shouldn't conceive them if they don't know how to raise them! A child is like a sponge... it picks up all the filth from the ground and thirstily soaks up all the poisons."

"Do you have any children, Mrs. Maat?"

"Miss Maat! No. And even if I did have them, I'd want to have them by myself," replied the manager scornfully.

"Would you want to clone yourself?!" asked Eros with utter surprise.

"I was referring to their education, not conception! Any more questions?"

"Are you happy?" Eros asked her, looking straight into her eyes.

Rubia Maat couldn't believe her ears. She found the question very personal and offensive. She stopped for a moment and continued:

"I thought you'd ask me professional questions, not personal ones!"

"So let's continue the tour," said Eros, moving towards the beam in the middle of the room.

"Don't touch the security system because the control panel is very sensitive. Even the slightest touch would set off the alarm."

"Do you ever test it?" asked Eros and shoved his hand into the light beam above the panel even before finishing his question.

"NOOO!" screamed Rubia.

The lock on the main door immediately latched, all the lights went off, and a bright red light started radiating from the beam. A loud alarm drowned out the sound of the nozzles that began spraying gas into the room.

"I told you not to touch that device!" said Rubia Maat with indignation.

"But I didn't touch it," replied Eros, his lips slightly curving up at the corners of his mouth.

"Move over, aw gotta type...!"

"What're ya gonna type, Mish Maat?" asked Eros with surprise, no longer able to clearly pronounce the syllables himself, and began snorting with laughter.

"Da gode!... Gotta type!" replied the manager, before being seized by laughter herself the next second.

"Who's Gode?"

"Code, not gode!" replied the manager. They were suddenly both lying on the floor, quaking with laughter.

"Ah'm Ubia, we oughta call each other... by our fuhst names," suggested Rubia, with more paroxysms of laughter.

"First names... or touchin' games?" repeated Eros, laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

"Hey, you're crazy!" said Rubia, all teary from laughing, and dragged herself to the keyboard. She entered the code with the last remnants of her strength and then blacked out.

When Eros opened his eyes, a white light blinded his sight. At first he thought it was the sun that he'd missed so much, but it was only the light in the round hall of the first ward of the federal prison.

The manager Rubia Maat was lying next to him, her hair all tousled and her creased skirt high above her round, white knees. She eventually opened her eyes, too, smoothed her skirt, and got up.

"See, the system works. If you're ready, we can continue the tour, Mr. Eros." Rubia Maat still felt a bit dizzy and was trying to gather her strength in order to sound as official as possible.

"Weren't we calling each other our first names just a few minutes ago?" asked Eros with surprise.

"That was under the influence of nitrous oxide. I suggest we stick to professional ethics," replied the manager with her official coldness.

"As you wish, Mrs.... no wonder ... Miss Maat."

"I heard that remark," said the manager, a bit insulted, and continued:

"Most countries define murder as the most heinous crime, on which the highest penalty is imposed... Behind this door there is a heartless man who committed murder out of selfishness. The victim had a 'love affair' with this prisoner and lived with him. She went to work, cooked and cleaned for him, and did his laundry. She took care of him like she would a small child, but she was really just a slave to him. Even though prisoner no. 699195 has been locked up for several years now, his victim's still totally wiped out."

"Does this mean she's still alive... what about the corpse? Doesn't every murder entail a corpse?"

"You don't understand. The prisoner murdered the woman inside her. She's a walking corpse!"

Eros was taken aback. He hadn't expected this answer.

"The hand of justice shows no mercy," the manager went on.

"But perhaps this is only because it doesn't have eyes to see, a brain to think, and a heart to forgive—because it's only a hand after all," replied Eros.

"Do you doubt our legal system?"

"Not at all. But I do doubt that a world exists that it would fit... What about prisoner no. 848248, Miss Maat? What did he do?"

"This one's a real crook. He had a wife and two wonderful children, but that wasn't enough for him. He chased frivolous women by sweet-talking them and giving them money and they flocked to him like flies to honey. So in the end he destroyed three innocent lives in his family. The cruelty of this case is also indicated by the fact that the prisoner continued to believe that he could redeem himself by buying presents."

"Did you know there's something called sexual addiction, which is actually a more serious form of psychological dependence?"

"Do people suffering from this kind of addiction feel lustful and have an insatiable desire for sex?"

"Not at all, they don't focus on the sexual intercourse but instead the high they get from it. Addicts think they can solve their problems this way, but in fact they're just running away from reality. In particular, people who don't accept their worlds can't resist the high they get from sex. The person with whom they achieve ecstasy doesn't play any role... It becomes an addiction when the person can no longer control their behavior and it becomes self-destructive. In most cases, addicts aren't aware of their problems and ruin their lives before facing the truth."

"I've never looked at this prisoner from this perspective."

"Maybe you should have. It often happens that children of parents who are addicts also adopt a similar pattern because they feel ashamed."

Eros began to climb the stairs.

"Why's the entire landing made of glass?"

"The entire hall must be clearly visible from the center of the room, which is why all the walls and doors are white and the prisoners' clothes are bright orange. They'd also be visible if they took off their clothes because their skin is very noticeable against the white background. This ensures that they don't try to hide when the cells are being locked."

"What if someone wrapped himself in a sheet?"

"All the prison's blankets and sheets are bright red, and tiny silver threads are woven into them, so that the sensor in the hall can immediately detect them. The silver threads also perform another function: they have an antibacterial effect; they prevent the spread of germs and this in turn prevents unpleasant odors... But if anyone did manage to hide, he would be intoxicated by gas within minutes."

"I can see you've really thought of everything."

"Well, you know: if something can go wrong, it will. So everything must be done to ensure that nothing can go wrong at all!"

Eros spent some time thinking about where he'd heard these words before.

"And here's convict no. 896236. He's been imprisoned for painful jealousy."

"But what type of jealousy was this?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are three types of jealousy. The first is caused by the imagination of the jealous person's Instinct. The individual is constantly tormented by thoughts of infidelity, which he can't control. This can lead to the point when the person completely loses his touch with reality. The second type is caused by the obsessive behavior of Emotion, who judges everything according to himself."

"At first the prisoner didn't show any signs of jealousy, but then he found a pair of men's underwear that wasn't his in his wife's car."

"This involves the third type of jealousy, then, when a person has a justified reason to be jealous. When jealous reactions are only occasional and are directed towards a single person, they indicate healthy self-respect and attachment to one's life companion," explained Eros.

Now he remembered where he had heard that sentence before. Did this mean that the oldest mind played the decisive role with Rubia Maat? He decided to pay more attention to the way she was thinking.

"Don't you ever miss the sun?"

"Why? We've got enough lights. Windows pose a danger and a threat. Besides, they have to be covered in order to repel curious glances... but it's best to simply close them up with concrete."

"This smells of Instinct," replied Eros.

"What stinks?"

"Nothing, I'm only thinking about how you're thinking."

"Would you like to know any other prisoner's life story?"

"Sure, is there anyone else here that cheated on his wife?"

"Not just one, there are enough on this ward to fill the entire floor! Here we have cells no. 807559 and 705424. These are two very similar cases. These two young men both earned their fortunes within a very short time, but even more than wealth they wanted to earn good reputations. They lived very luxuriously, threw fancy parties, and surrounded themselves with everything that might suggest on the outside that they were part of high society. But the poor guys didn't realize that they were missing precisely the thing that makes a man truly great. Their word was worth about as much as yesterday's newspaper. They used money and gifts to deceive girls, cheated on them, and bragged about it in front of their friends. They despised happy couples and plotted against them in order to destroy their happiness."

"Can you even imagine how much grief and suffering can be hiding in these kinds of people? Whenever they failed to bed a girl with even a bit of sense they realized what they were really worth!"

"Don't you go sympathizing with them, they deserve to be scorned and punished"; Rubia Maat was uncompromising.

"If they were locked up in the same cell, they could get to know their worlds."

"We've also got some prisoners that would enjoy some male company in their cells."

"So you also judge people by their sexual orientation around here?"

"Of course! Prisoner no. 816839 got a double sentence because he was cheating on two people at the same time!"

"How can this be?"

"It's simple! He pretended to love his wife and so he was cheating on her. In reality he loved men and so he also cheated on himself."

"But wasn't that already enough of a punishment... having lied to himself?"

"Absolutely not! Even today prisoner no. 816839 is still considered one of the most inveterate womanizers. Yes, you've heard it right. Womanizer. He had a strong desire to conceal his tendencies both to himself and others and so he spent his entire life surrounding himself with women. He was so obsessed with it that he bedded more than a thousand women in his short, but turbulent career as a womanizer. Can you even imagine how many lies he told?!"

"And how many men he was with?"

"Not even one... I told you that he wasn't true to himself. He was extremely hostile towards his kind. He judged them and called them fags. He always made jokes at their expense and one time he even beat up a guy at a public sauna because he had arrived wrapped in a pink sheet."

"Maybe his wife accidentally washed a red sock with a load of whites," added Eros.

"Or he wasn't his type," replied Rubia.

For the first time the manager showed a different face that was less serious and rigid without being under the influence of chemical substances. Eros thought he caught a tiny glimpse of sunshine in her eyes for a moment, but when he looked again all he saw was Rubia Maat's cold, strict blue-gray eyes.

"If you have any more questions, we can continue, otherwise I suggest we conclude our inspection for today. It'll be time for lunch soon."

Eros had many more questions, but his hunger was stronger than his curiosity.

Rubia Maat carefully locked the first ward system and double-checked that all of the security devices were turned on and working properly. She waited until screen showed in red letters: SYSTEM LOCKED.

Eros went into an empty dining room. He noticed a tray with a bowl and three cans on the table. A piece of bread, silverware, and a can opener were placed next to it. He sat down and started eating. He'd wanted something hot to eat, but what bothered him more than the cold meal was the fact that he had to eat alone. He got up and went to the trash can at the door. He noticed it was completely empty. He concluded that Rubia hadn't eaten yet or had taken her food somewhere else. He finished his meal and set out to meet the manager.

In the hallway he thought he heard her voice. It sounded concerned, as if she were talking to someone about something serious. Even though her control room was glassed in from all sides so that she could see the doors to all four wards, she didn't notice Eros, who came walking up the hallway. When he entered, she nearly gasped.

"Don't you want to have lunch with me, Miss Maat?" asked Eros with surprise.

"I always eat alone," replied the manager a little hesitantly.

Eros waited for an explanation, but Rubia Matt merely put away her half-empty cans.

"This is the control room. From here we can control the entire security system of this institution."

Eros looked around the spacious, dimly-lit room. A large number of electronic devices, switches, screens, and control panels were arranged against the glass walls.

"Can you also control the cameras on the outer wall from here?"

"Yes, the system allows us to also monitor what's happening outside, which is part of the passive security. But we also have active security that can destroy an intruder that approaches the wall from the outside."

"Does this mean I could've been shot while I was walking along the wall?" asked Eros with surprise.

"You would've first been told over the loudspeaker to step over to the other side of the road. If you'd disregarded this warning, you would've either been shot, or burned, or tranquilized by a dart gun for a couple of hours."

Eros remembered the half-burned soccer ball at the entrance and looked at his bandaged big toe. Rubia Maat's world seemed so inaccessible that not even a fly could get in, let alone happiness and love. And yet there was a hole in this system because he'd ended up in the middle of it anyway.

The manager still hadn't figured out that Eros wasn't an inspector as she presumed. However, this somehow didn't jive with Eros' conclusion that she was ruled by Instinct, who was supposed to be distrustful, suspicious, and pessimistic. And he hadn't found any signs of Emotion in the house either. He had to find out if it was perhaps Reason that played the most important role in her head.

The entire security system is highly perfected and well-thought-out. It takes into account all the possible scenarios. This may indicate the presence of Reason, thought Eros suddenly.

"It looks like you've thought everything out well, Miss Maat. Your institution truly deserves nothing but praise. Of course I'd like to see the other three wards as well before I reach any conclusions. Tell me, who planned such a perfected security system?"

Rubia Maat blushed. It was noticeable, although she didn't even twitch.

"I'm the designer of the entire project."

Eros thought he'd finally found his answer regarding the importance of Reason in Rubia Maat, but at the next moment she added:

"Everything you see is the result of thirty-five years of experience and improvements after the mistakes we made."

So it was clear... Rubia Maat's entire world was solely the result of her exceptional Instinct. But there must have been some bad experience involved in order for him to gain such power. Perhaps Reason and Emotion were left with no word precisely because of the escape of the first prisoner.

"We should drink to that," Eros suggested.

Rubia Maat was surprised by this proposal, but also completely blinded by his words of praise. She left the control room for a while and came back with a bottle and two glasses.

"Twelve years old, from the finest cellar. I was saving it for my birthday next Wednesday," said Rubia Maat and poured each of them half a glass.

"To happiness and love!"

"To happiness and love? I thought we'd drink to our institution's perfect security system?!"

"To punish everyone that misuses love and destroys happiness... isn't that the main point behind your institution?"

"Well, if that's what you had in mind, let's drink to it," said Rubia Maat and tossed back her glass.

"Have you picked out a name yet?"

"For what?"

"Your clone."

"You mean... my child? Pinea. Pinea Maat!" replied Rubia and filled her glass to the brim.

"It's an unusual name, but it sounds nice, like pine in Latin."

"I thought of it myself... I've never heard it being used as a name before," said the manager proudly.

"What about you? Are you married, do you have any children?"

"No, I'm still looking for my dream girl," replied Eros.

"But how will you know she's the one?"

"By her eyes. I've seen them in my dreams."

"So let's drink to those eyes," suggested Rubia Maat and clinked glasses with him.

When Eros tossed back his glass, he noticed an unusual bright stain on the ceiling. Taking a closer look, it seemed to him that some kind of light was coming through the ceiling.

Rubia Maat studied the screen for a while, then confirmed her selection and some lively music filled the room.

"Do you know how to salsa, Eros?" she asked, whirling between the chairs.

She was more agile than Eros had thought and what surprised him even more was that she'd called him by his first name again.

"I know a couple of basic moves, but I'm not as good at it as you, Miss Maat," he replied, trying to get up from his chair.

"'Miss Maat?' Did I leave my first name on the dance floor?" asked the manager with surprise.

In place of Eros, the entire control room was dancing before his eyes. An unknown force pulled him back into his armchair and when he looked up at the ceiling it was covered with bright stains that were visibly growing.

Suddenly the entire ceiling melted like thin ice in the heat and the entire room was filled with the rays of the sun. Eros spread his arms to increase his body surface as much as possible and soak up the warmth he had missed so much.

Rubia was still dancing with her eyes closed and when she opened them for a moment it seemed to her that she was looking at the perfect body of a naked man. At first she thought it was an illusion and closed her eyes again so that she wouldn't lose it, but the next moment she felt a strange urge to touch him. She couldn't resist.

She slowly came closer to him following the rhythm of the music and tried to touch his thigh with her hand.

But Eros' hand caught her by the wrist.

"Your drink has intoxicated you. Don't do things you may regret tomorrow," said Eros with a calm and friendly voice, as though his blood contained not even a drop of alcohol.

"I can only regret my life," replied Rubia, crying. She threw the bottle with all her might against the glass wall, so that the shards clattered loudly across the stone floor. Then she collapsed into the corner, crying like a small child.

Eros' heart was breaking because he couldn't bear crying. He knelt down next to her, took her by the shoulder and stroked her hair. Rubia hid her red cheeks in her hands and tears started to slide down her arms.

Looking at her made him feel so bad that his eyes became moist, too, although he didn't know why. At that point he made a firm decision to find the reason for Rubia's sadness and make her smile again.

She soon fell asleep. He covered her up and put a small pillow under her head. The light coming through the ceiling in the control room gradually dwindled, until the room was once again enveloped in darkness.

Rubia Maat knocked on cell no. 25 and halted at the door.

"May I order some breakfast for you, Mr. Eros?" she asked with a considerably softer voice than usual.

"Yes, please."

A hearty breakfast with a full jug of freshly squeezed orange juice was waiting for him in the dining room. After he'd eaten it, Rubia Maat came in.

"If you're ready, we can continue the inspection."

They walked to the entrance to the second ward and repeated the procedure for unlocking the door.

"Are all the wards the same?"

"They're all designed the same way... the only difference is the number on the door. Please don't put your hand between the light beam and the light-sensitive panel again."

"If that's what it takes to get you call me by my first name again..."

Rubia Maat didn't respond to this.

"The second ward is intended for perpetrators of minor felonies. Here, too, we have one hundred and twenty cells, filled to capacity."

"Tell me more about them."

"We're standing in front of a chronic liar's cell. If he says 'Good day' to you, you have to check and make sure it isn't night, perhaps... He lies from dawn to dusk, his life's nothing but an adventure, something's always happening to him, and there isn't a thing in the world he doesn't know something about. This is how he got the nickname "the three-legged encyclopedia."

"Why three?"

The manager only rolled her eyes.

"What's interesting is that he constantly has the feeling that the whole world's against him. He does this deliberately so that people will feel sorry for him and fall for his lies more easily... Prisoner no. 686327 lived for one year at his girlfriend's expense, during which time the girl's father died. He took advantage of her grief and shamelessly spent her money. He didn't pitch in a nickel himself. He lied about the great fortune he claimed to have earned as a discographer, saying he couldn't use it because of some strange bank conspiracy."

"... and she actually bought all this?" asked Eros with surprise.

"You can't even imagine how much imagination he used in all this. He even showed her photos of people taking part in the conspiracy against him and provided bank statements with large sums on them... Prisoner no. 036234 also went to great lengths to acquire his money. He even made good use of his good looks to sell things. He gave false hope to girls, so that they'd work for him or help him get money in some other way. At first he engaged in pyramid schemes, and then moved on to selling life insurance, which after a while began to be referred to as investment. He even made use of a dear friend who looked up to him."

"But what was his motive?"

"You could ask the same of prisoner no. 708127. He was a packrat that spent his entire life saving money. I'm talking about a man who was so mean that he didn't even want happiness for himself. He wore clothes until they were ready to throw away and he only ate at a restaurant if someone invited him. When his girlfriend's purse fell apart on a trip because it was so worn out, he mended it with tape."

"He must be extremely pleased with the low cost of staying at your institution," smiled Eros.

"You won't believe it, but we've got quite a lot of cases like these. They say that prisoner no. 790747 keeps snakes in his pockets. Once he and his girlfriend were planning to go on vacation and he pretended that his car was being repaired, just so that he could use his girlfriend's car instead."

"Did he at least chip in for the gas?"

"He was too afraid that a snake would bite him in the pocket where he kept his wallet... Something must've also gotten into prisoner no. 085841. When his wife wasn't home, he'd open her closet and dress up in her clothes, go into the bathroom and put her lipstick on, and walk around the apartment in her high heels."

"But did his behavior hurt anyone?"

"I forgot to mention that he also masturbated in front of the mirror after that!"

"Did the mirror report him to the authorities?"

The manager pretended not to hear Eros' question.

Rubia Maat went on for several hours telling detailed stories about the convicts at the federal prison. Eros was slowly putting the puzzle together, but the picture still wasn't clear enough to see the whole. Even in the evening, before he fell asleep, he spent a long time thinking about the things he'd heard, looking for connections.

The third ward was no different.

"Those with the mildest penalties are locked up here," explained Rubia Maat.

"And what are the 'mild' crimes these prisoners are doing time for?"

"This 'horizontal expert' no. 894344 tirelessly exasperated women."

"With what?"

"With exhausting sex techniques. His motto was: 'Kama Sutra for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.' There wasn't a thing he didn't try out, a place where he didn't have sex, or a girl he couldn't get. According to his stories, not even one had been disappointed so far. The girls were supposed to be thrilled by his incredible endurance and great emphasis on the number of thrusts... But we also have his total opposite here, prisoner no. 957538. At the age of thirty-eight he was still living with his mother like her pet. He was reliable, predictable, loyal, and patient. He stayed wherever you put him."

"And why did he end up in prison?"

"Because of his mother. We detained him so that she could take a breath," explained Rubia Maat.

"And here's the 'home computer' no. 763509, completely lost in time and space. His world is digital and if he happens to meet a woman that isn't virtual, he freezes."

"If he had internet access in his cell, he wouldn't even know he was in prison," smiled Eros.

"Yes, and this 'monologue-guy' no. 349090 probably hasn't realized yet that he has no one to talk to in his cell. When he went on a date, the girl only managed to say something if he had to use the restroom. Even though he was as monotonous as a whitewashed wall and as funny as a pound of rusty iron, he was convinced after every date that he was so great that he could even date himself... The case of prisoner no. 077407 is very similar. He was so self-absorbed that he didn't even notice that his date had gotten up from the table, taken her purse, put on her red coat, and walked out of the restaurant without a word. He kept sitting at the table, admiring his reflection in the window looking out at the street."

"Interesting!"

"I don't understand why prisoner no. 216745's girlfriend didn't do the same. He's here for the lack of personal hygiene... he had such an unpleasant odor that he never had to stand in line in the store."

"... and that's why he's locked up?" asked Eros surprised, understanding less and less.

"Well, he can't walk around like that!"

"Is there a man in the world that doesn't belong to your prison?"

"There is. But he's here nonetheless. Prisoner no. 147895 was detained for being clumsy to the point of hurting himself. If there was water, electricity, or fire nearby, that was enough for something to go wrong. When he tried to repair something, it was sure to be impossible to put it together again. If he took a butter knife out of the drawer, he cut himself. He almost lost all his fingers while he was cleaning grass from under the hood of a running lawn-mower. The last straw was when he tried to help the neighbor's son get his ball from a treetop. Because nothing else handy was around, he tried to get the ball down by throwing an axe at it. He was lucky he didn't kill himself."

For a moment, Eros thought the manager was making fun of him, but Rubia Maat didn't even smile.

"It's also too bad that this prisoner is here... no. 198533 was one of the most successful TV hosts. He's got a sharp mind, a good sense of humor, and doesn't pull any punches. His show had no competition for many years and had higher ratings than the broadcasts of the biggest sport events."

"But surely that can't be the reason he ended up in here?"

"Of course not, his teeth are yellow. It's really a shame!... Other prisoners on the third ward include the overweight, the snaggle-toothed, the bald, school dropouts, the unemployed, the lazy, homebodies, and shiftless types."

Eros was speechless. Not only criminals, but completely ordinary people ended up at the federal prison. Everyone that didn't fit into Rubia Maat's image of the perfect world was here.

Realizing this led Eros to add the final piece to the puzzle.

It was Wednesday. At breakfast, Eros folded the napkin into a flower. When the manager came in, he got up and gave it to her.

"Happy birthday..."

The manager blew her nose hard in the napkin and threw it in the trash.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know that you were going to blow your nose. I remembered your birthday and that was a paper flower I gave you."

"Is that so? Thank you! Are you ready to view the last ward?"

"Of course."

"The fourth ward is the women's ward..." the manager began to explain.

"... which includes brainless beauties, movie stars, scrawny models, and those that have had plastic surgery," added Eros.

"How did you know?" asked Rubia Maat, surprised.

"What's the name of that self-absorbed prisoner on the third ward who didn't notice that his date at the restaurant had put on her red coat and left?"

"Olivier," said the manager and looked at him with surprise.

"There's no one else in your prison but you and me, and you, Miss Maat, are the only prisoner in your own jail."

"How dare you, this is outrageous!"

"Open the door."

"Open it yourself if you're so smart," retorted the manager.

Eros walked up to the control panel and typed in the number 1806.

"What year were you born, Miss Maat?"

"It's none of your business!" replied Rubia Maat, all red in the face.

"OK, today's June eighteenth and you've been improving your prison for exactly thirty-five years, which means..." Eros typed in the four-digit year of birth and a five-letter code.

"Please place your finger on the panel."

Rubia was sure that Eros didn't know the letter code. But just in case, she put her left index finger on the panel.

Red letters on the screen spelled out: ACCESS DENIED.

Eros looked Rubia right in the eye and then he looked down at the control panel where she was pressing her finger.

"Use your middle finger, please."

The door to the ward finally opened.

"How did you know?" asked the manager surprised.

"I guessed. Half of all people use their birth date and the name of their child or pet for their codes," replied Eros and walked to the next control panel. He entered the command for opening the cells and confirmed the code.

Suddenly the doors to all the cells opened.

One hundred and twenty empty and immaculately cleaned rooms gaped in front of them. There was no one inside.

Rubia Maat's head started spinning. She was so surprised that she couldn't utter a single word.

Eros went into the control room and opened the doors to all the wards. As expected, not a single person was there in the entire federal prison besides the two of them. Rubia Maat was standing behind him, clenching her fists so hard that her nails turned white. She was looking toward the doors. She felt an enormous void inside, as if everything in her life had suddenly lost its meaning.

Suddenly a red light on the control panel came on. The manager looked at the screen:

"There's a horseman at the entrance."

Eros leaned down over the control panel to have a look at the screen. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"How on Earth did he track me down?" he murmured to himself and stared at the buttons in front of him. "How do you turn on the microphone?"

"Do you know him?" asked Rubia and initialized the active security program.

Eros bent over the microphone and said:

"Step over to the other side of the road, please!"

"Come back home," replied the rider on the black horse.

"I can't, I've got things to do. How did you find me?" Eros grabbed the control stick and moved the cursor on the screen to point at Ares' neck.

"They're worried sick about you back at home!"

Eros flipped the switch. A tiny arrow shot towards the rider without a sound and the slender tip easily penetrated the chainmail on his neck. Ares fell out of his saddle and lay motionless on the ground like a horse turd.

Eros walked towards the main entrance. Lictor was standing at the entrance, his black hair sparkling in the sun. He twitched his ears and, when he recognized the familiar face in front of him, he pawed the ground with his hoof. Eros leaned against his head and stroked his thick mane. Then he knelt down next to his brother and took off his helmet.

"He'll be asleep for a few hours. I'll bring him some water when he wakes up," said the manager.

"Listen to me, Rubia! Your prison is nothing but your prejudices. Prisoner no. 452210, yes, the one that managed to escape, is your first love and your first disappointment. In order to avoid experiencing that again, your Instinct created a world in which all the men are criminals. You judge people even before they can prove themselves good or bad. In your world you've built a house that is so closed up and inaccessible that you've also locked yourself away from happiness. You're afraid that your heart will be hurt again and so you don't let anyone near. If some people are bad, that doesn't mean everyone is like that, and if you want happiness to enter your house, you've got to believe in it and open the door to it. Love is worth the risk and disappointment is a small price to pay for it... Have faith in yourself and other people because this is the only way love will also knock on your door some day," said Eros, pulling the arrow out of Ares' neck.

He knelt down on the sidewalk and scratched a message into the patina of his brother's armor with it:

ANSWER THE OPPOSITE OR DIE

He picked up his mirror and shook the manager's hand.

"Good luck!"

"Who are you?" asked Rubia Maat with astonishment.

"The one with the key," smiled Eros.

***

Overhead there were so many clouds that it was impossible to count them. Tendrils of mist in the clear blue sky embraced by the evening sun crumbled like white bread. Eros saw a tall fortress in front of him with a slender guard tower rising up in the middle. There was nothing else as far as the eye could see, so he set out towards it. The tufts of dry grass in the sandy soil along the dusty road waited thirstily for the raindrops to bring them back to life. But the small clouds dissipated like false hope extinguished by the truth. The distant hills were reddened by the sun and a mist rose from the sea. The road brought him straight to a wooden drawbridge that led over the dried-out moat to the fortress. The edge of the wall was so high up that an arrow shot straight up, parallel with the wall, would have stopped just at the top, where it would be possible to catch it in one's hand at that moment. The ancient portal rose mysteriously above the bridge, as if it wanted to drive away any intruders that might seek to unravel its meaning. From up close, the fortress' immensity made an even greater impression.

Eros halted in front of the entrance, paneled with iron, with spikes sticking out that would split a battering ram in two if an attacker ran it against the door. The richly adorned portal of the fortress was composed of two magnificent jambs in the shape of Ionic columns and a pediment reminiscent of the tympanum on the Acropolis of Athens, except that it was turned upside down.

He put his mirror down on the railing of the drawbridge and looked down into the moat surrounding the wall. It was dry and ridged, and the cracks in the mud suggested that it had once been filled with water.

He walked towards the door and wanted to knock, but his knuckles fell mutely against the heavy iron door. He spotted the bronze ring of the knocker and banged it against the door a few times. He soon heard someone unbolting it and the door opened. Eros saw a tall attractive young man with broad shoulders. He had a long, handsome face and deep dark-green eyes. He wore chainmail and a strong leather belt with an iron buckle. He was holding a book in his left hand, his finger marking the page where he had left off. He pushed the button on his CD-player to stop the music, took off his headphones, and measured the unusual visitor with his eyes. His gaze halted on Eros' groin.

"Have you been robbed and lost your clothes, too?" he asked him, without any noticeable concern in his voice.

"No, I've been sent on my way by Life and..."

"Weirdo!" said the young man, put on his headphones again and closed the door.

Eros was thus left at the door of the fortress. The only thing he could hear was the bolt creaking on the other side.

He spent some time staring at the door as if he expected the young man to change his mind and offer him a place to stay the night. But that didn't happen.

The landscape grew darker. Eros was tired and, because he couldn't think of anything better, he lay down on the sandy soil, folded his arms under his head, and fell asleep. He slept so soundly that he didn't even hear the loud rattling of the chains that drew taut shortly after that to lift the bridge to the wall.

The night was clear and warm and the crickets were loudly chirping their mating songs.

When Eros opened his eyes in the morning, the bridge was lowered again. He walked to the door again and struck the knocker against it several times. The door opened and the young man looked at him with surprise:

"You're still here? What do you want?"

"A piece of bread and some water," replied Eros.

"I'm not looking for hired help, so thank you and goodbye."

"That wasn't what I..." Eros tried to explain, but his words flew against the latch of the bolted door like pestering flies.

He wasn't disappointed because he hadn't expected anything and there wasn't any anger or resentment in him, so he just stood there, wondering if all this unfriendliness meant that he was standing in front of the wrong house and should go somewhere else. But then he remembered what the dog had told him in the clearing: You'll know because people won't recognize the truth in the light of your eyes.

The young man saw him, naked as the day he was born, but he didn't see the truth because otherwise he couldn't have just closed the door on him like that.

Eros went down into the moat under the drawbridge because he wanted to see if there was any other way to get into the fortress. He hadn't noticed any windows or even a tiny loophole through which he could peek inside. Only the magnificent wall rose from the moat in all its unimaginable grandeur.

He spotted a small wooden ladder propped against the wall. It looked kind of funny because it didn't even reach up to the top of the moat, let alone being able to cope with the giant wall. But somebody had brought it there and used it to try to get inside the fortress... Although he had greatly misjudged its length.

Not far from the ladder, Eros found a piece of rope sticking out of the ground. He pulled it out of the dried mud, and along with it came a wooden arrow with an iron hook. The rope was long, but because the iron was so heavy you couldn't throw it even halfway up the wall. He untied it from the hook and wrapped it around his arm.

Water suddenly came down the dry channel. At first there was only a wet trace that could barely be noticed, but it soon grew into a small stream that covered the full width of the moat. Eros bent over and scooped up some water with his hands. It was muddy and so he couldn't drink it... He watched the leaves being carried away by the water and noticed a white bone among them. It was a human femur. The current slowly carried it between his legs. Shortly after that a skull rolled down the shallow water and then another one. Eros watched closely and saw that the water was bringing increasingly more bones. Some were dry and hollow, which is why they floated on the surface, whereas others were broken and dragged along the bottom.

It seemed like water in the riverbed of time was washing away the remains of a defeated army that was left lying in the dust and mud after a bloody battle.

When the water became clear, he noticed something sparkly in the channel, motionlessly defying the current... He picked up a gold necklace with a tiny heart-shaped locket from the bottom. He opened it and read the following inscription inside:

"With love, Marie Angélique."

Because the water was already up to his knees now and was continuing to rise, he climbed the embankment and continued to walk along the moat. He walked around the wall, but couldn't find any openings in it. He reached the drawbridge again and put down the coil of rope.

He noticed that the bridge wasn't made of plain boards. Its upper surface and the railing were made of maple wood and its lower surface was made of pinewood with unusually narrow growth rings. The support and all the bindings were made of willow, which is considered especially resilient. But the most unusual thing about it was that both surfaces were slightly curved in the opposite directions. Even though the bridge was dirty and gray from the sun, Eros could see that it had been made with unusual precision.

While he was walking and inspecting the construction, he nearly missed the piece of bread and cup of water that someone had put on his mirror. He ate the bread and gulped down the water. Then he knocked on the door and waited for the creak of the bolt.

"Thank you for the bread and water," said Eros when he saw the young man.

"And now leave, there's nothing for you here!"

"Wait, I found this in the moat... Maybe you know who it belongs to?" Eros held out the necklace with the heart-shaped locket.

The young man looked at it and replied without even opening the locket:

"That's Marie Angélique's."

"Perhaps she lost it..." Eros began his sentence, but the young man disappeared into the fortress even before he could finish it.

"This knight sure doesn't waste words," Eros sighed, deciding to respect his mysterious reticence.

He took his mirror from the railing, determined to go somewhere else, where his help might be needed.

At the exact moment he wanted to step off the drawbridge, he heard a barely audible sound of unbelievably velvety softness. He held his breath in order to determine where it was coming from. The beautiful melody sounded like the thoughts of a millennium-old prophet. Because the fortress wall was so thick, the sound reverberated through the ground rather than air. When the last note stopped on a low C, he felt how the wooden bridge beneath his feet resonated in harmony with the giant organ producing the melody.

In order to be more easily reached by the music, he lay down in the center of the drawbridge and pressed his back firmly against the floor. He closed his eyes and a feeling of absolute peace overwhelmed him... What he was listening to wasn't made for the Earth, but for heaven.

The initially simple and modest play of tones soon broke all the rules of music, but its imperfections magically created a new perfection. Eros couldn't come to terms with what he was hearing and at the same time couldn't surrender to it, but he could accept the music with open arms. The melody first touched his Reason. When it repeated, it first attracted Emotion's attention and then Instinct's as well. The three companions soon forgot all of their worries and let the invisible hand lead them into an irresistible world. The music brought words, pictures, and feelings into his thoughts, unveiling the forgotten secret. He felt it in the same way he had come to know the truth that only he could see.

When after seven repetitions the melody sounded from a higher register, Eros heard the dog's words come into his heart as if echoing from eternity: Behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence.

He perceived these thoughts in a different way through the music, but he couldn't explain it with words. His skin prickled with goose bumps as though the first snow had fallen on it and cleansed it of all evil. The ninth repetition raised him from the ground and up to the sky, where he saw a constellation of three stars. The joy this brought him was such that it seemed he could even defy time. Numbers appeared before his eyes, and then letters. They came out of a jumble one after another, until they finally ended up in formulas that turned into parts of an unknown whole. Each of the twelve repetitions acquired its own character, strongly resembling a human one. The last, which exceeded all the others, formed the thirteenth repetition together with the first, but Eros was unable to discern its character. It was so beautiful and he was so overwhelmed by it that his entire body began to tingle. Tears began to pour down his cheeks, washing his thoughts, so he could see the formulas merge into a single whole.

He saw perfection before him.

Eros didn't know how long he had been asleep. His hands were still pressed against the bridge, with his fingers spread wide as if wanting to draw the music out of the bridge again.

Instead of light Eros suddenly felt a cold sensation on his eyelids, so he opened his eyes. The young man was standing over him, arms akimbo and lost in thought. He spoke to him in a quiet voice:

"Passacaglia by Johann Sebastian Bach."

Eros lay motionless on the bridge. At that moment, his only desire was that his memory would never erase what he had just experienced. He still felt the tingling in his fingertips.

The young man watched him for a while longer.

"Bach played it so that it was exactly three seconds short of thirteen minutes," he said and headed for the door.

"Who's Marchand?" Eros called after him.

The young man came to a halt as though rooted to the ground.

"What do you mean?"

"Who's Louis Marchand?" Eros repeated his question.

"What, you don't know Louis Marchand? He was a great French organist and harpsichordist, the greatest virtuoso and composer at the court of King Louis XIV. Why do you ask?"

"It's written in the music."

The young man stared at Eros for a while.

"Are you making fun of me?"

Eros picked himself up off the floor and turned toward him:

"Do you mean... like Bach made fun of Marchand?"

The young man sized Eros up with surprise:

"What are you getting at?"

"Don't you know about the dispute between Bach and Marchand?" asked Eros with surprise.

"I know that Passacaglia's considered the greatest musical secret of all time. Bach's original manuscript disappeared even during his own lifetime and so musicians only know it from copies. Nobody on Earth even knows when it was created, let alone to whom it was dedicated. How on earth did you connect it with the famous Louis Marchand?"

"If nobody on Earth knows about this, then how do you know Marchand?" asked Eros with surprise.

"The lost manuscript has been kept behind these walls for the last three centuries. Bach wrote the esteemed name you've just mentioned on it in his own hand," replied the young man.

"Well, to be precise, it couldn't have been here a full three centuries, because it wasn't created until 1717," smiled Eros.

The young man practically jumped when he heard Eros say that. He nearly crashed through the railing on the drawbridge and fell into the moat.

"Bach, who wasn't really well known yet at that time, challenged the distinguished Marchand to a musical duel in Dresden that year. As was customary in those days, the two musicians were supposed to compete against one another by playing a selected instrument. The virtuosos would exchange two simple melodies in front of the audience and then improvise on them to the best of their abilities. In the end, the listeners would select the winner ... Marchand was honored to accept this challenge... but then had to suddenly leave town the night before the competition. Nobody on Earth can know what Bach was planning to play then," explained the young man, visibly upset.

Eros replied:

"Well, the truth's a bit different!... What's the difference between God and Louis Marchand?"

"What?"

"God never thought he was Marchand," smiled Eros, but the young man didn't find the joke funny.

"Before this event, the arrogant Marchand called Bach a run-of-the-mill organist. He greatly humiliated him and did an injustice to his musical talent. So friends talked Bach into challenging Marchand to a duel... Bach, who was deeply religious, asked God to help him create a work that would overshadow everything that Marchand had written up until then. So on the night of Tuesday, September 7th, 1717, Bach had the most peculiar dream, which also contained a mysterious message: Twelve will hear, but none of them will see!"

"... He wrote that on the first page... and also Weimar, 1717," the young man interrupted.

"In his dream a pigeon landed on his windowsill and inspired him to create the Passacaglia in a single day. He spent a week perfecting it on his pedal harpsichord, and on Friday evening before the competition Marchand came to listen to him in secret. He was very impressed by Bach's playing, but at the same time he knew he would only destroy his own reputation the following day, so he disappeared overnight... This is the real reason Bach and Marchand never went through with the competition."

"What you're saying is nothing but a brazen lie!" the young man raged.

"This event made such an impression on the people there that ever since then they've referred to anyone that acts stupid and leaves without saying goodbye as leaving the French way."

"How on earth could you know all this?"

"It's written in the music."

"And who the hell are you to see all this, which no one has ever seen before?"

"Will you be my friend if I reveal this secret to you?"

"Friend? I've spent half of my life working on this piece and I thought I'd already discovered something important when I managed to divide it into twenty-one musical episodes," replied the young man.

"So bring the score!" said Eros, offering him his hand, but the young man ran towards the fortress without shaking it.

"My name's Eros."

"And I'm Heracles!" yelled the young man, already at the door, slamming it shut behind him.

He soon came back with a stack of yellowed papers. The ink on them had faded extensively, although it was still possible to read everything that had been written down.

Eros examined the manuscript. It had been created in such haste that most of the notes had been written as single strokes. Nonetheless the writing was neat and well-organized.

"Look, this is the melody that keeps repeating in the Passacaglia," Eros pointed to the end of the first line.

"That's the basso ostinato," explained Heracles.

"Yes, look carefully at the ending and tell me what you see," said Eros.

"I see a C. Before that a G!"

"If you know that the lengths of the notes were denoted by their Latin names in those days, what would you call the last note that you see?"

"A longa," answered the young man.

"And the next to the last one?"

"A maxima!"

"Does that remind you of anything?"

"Longa, maxima ...? Louis Marchand?" said Heracles, astounded.

"From right to left, the next note is F, but if you use a different clef sign—the treble clef—you see the note D here. Another name for this, using the solfège syllables, is re," continued Eros.

"Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, si ... so in the manuscript is hidden M ... A ... R ... wait ... and after that ... C!" said the young man, flushed with excitement.

"In the second line in the bass clef in C-minor there is the note B-flat, but Bach put a sign in front of it to indicate a change—a natural sign..."

"... so that's not a B-flat anymore, but a B-natural, also known as H! M ... A .. R ... C ... H ..." Heracles couldn't believe his eyes.

"Now Bach needed an N, but that can't be found among the note symbols. But if you look carefully, you see that on this side of the note H there isn't another note, but a natural sign ..."

"... which is called an annullo in Latin: AN ... MARCH ... AN!" cried Heracles, taking a deep breath.

"An annullo then cancels the next note, E-flat, and it's followed by D! And so if you read it all together from the manuscript you get Lo. Marchand."

Heracles was completely beside himself. He'd spent year upon year staring at this music, and not only him—copies of the manuscript had been studied by thousands of musicians for nearly 300 years. But the mystery of the Passacaglia and its secret message had not yet been unraveled by anyone.

"That's ingenious!" cried the young man.

"Yes, and even the E-flat in this place isn't meaningless. Here Bach inserted the word 'HANNES,' which in German means John the Baptist, but in folk tradition is also known as 'headless John,'" said Eros.

"That loutish Bach intended to put down his opponent in the duel using this melody, without even an ounce of shame. He'd make fun of the celebrated Louis Marchand in front of the entire audience, because the whole time he'd be playing 'Louis Marchand—headless.' That's really low! Look, on the next pages, in the place you're referring to, on both pages Bach placed a melodic ornament as though he wanted to mock Marchand even more," said the young man, pointing to the music. "But how did you work out the year?"

"The melody has seven long notes and seven short ones, and if you look at the natural sign closely, you see that it is composed of two ones ... Friends?" Eros looked at the young man.

"Friends!?" answered Heracles, staring at the music a bit longer, counting the notes and looking for the secret message.

Then he thoughtfully walked toward the fortress. At the door he halted and looked unbelievingly at Eros, who had followed him:

"Only friends ... but not a guest, too!" he said, closing the door behind him.

Eros sat on the railing of the drawbridge and started to laugh hard:

"I succeed in unraveling the greatest musical secret of all time, and then I'm outsmarted by a greenhorn like him!"

After a while, the young man came back carrying a small table laden with food and drinks. He put it down on the bridge before Eros and placed folding three-legged stools on opposite sides of the table.

"Supper for my new friend," he said, filling a cup with red wine and placing a tray with endives, radishes, olives and sardines in front of Eros.

Eros was hungry, so he started to eat. Heracles sat down opposite him, leaned on his elbows, and watched with a smile as Eros gulped down the food with great gusto.

"Mmm... and thanks for the message," said Eros.

"What message?" asked Heracles, playing dumb.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice: e... endives, r... radishes, o... olives, s... sardines? It's nice to be proud of your mind, but it's not nice to underestimate someone else's," said Eros with his mouth full, shaking his head.

"I have to congratulate you, I was planning to tell you only after you'd finished your meal... What do you think, did the esteemed Louis Marchand ever find out how that German had planned to trick him?"
"I don't think so. And even if Bach had been so impudent that he mailed his manuscript to Marchand, he would've thrown it in the fire for sure," smiled Eros.

The young man shook his head silently.

"Are you always so enigmatic, Heracles?"

"If you think you'll ever enter this fortress, you're wrong. No one can get into it!"

"The Passacaglia isn't the only secret behind your walls, is it? They're protecting something much more important than this old manuscript."

Heracles cleared the table without a word and locked himself in the fortress.

"Good night, friend!" called Eros after him.

When he woke up in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky. He was lying on his back, when he suddenly felt something cold on him. He slowly lifted his head and noticed a large black snake lying peacefully on his chest, curled up in a ball. Eros didn't even wince because he felt no fear. He wasn't afraid that the snake would do him any harm and he didn't feel even the slightest unease upon this unusual encounter.

He remembered how he'd been afraid of snakes as a child. He wouldn't have dared take hold of even a tiny blindworm then, let alone a real snake. He breathed slowly, watching how the snake also rose on his chest with his every breath. He knew that the animal sensed the warmth of his body and had come to warm itself up. When it felt that Eros was watching it, it raised its little head and slowly slid down onto the ground. It disappeared without a sound into the slit under the door, just as it had come out.

The day was hot and Eros noticed that the moat was full of water. It was clean and clear, so that you could see the sand at the bottom. He sat on the railing so that his feet hung above the moat, closed his eyes, and completely calmed himself. Mentally he relaxed every muscle: first his legs, then his torso, arms, and finally his neck and face. His breathing was steady and tranquil, and each exhale lasted twice as long as each inhale. Then he took three deep breaths and jumped into the water. He swam underwater and his strokes were coordinated and unhurried.

Heracles, who had heard the splash, leaned over the wall and looked down into the moat. He saw Eros gliding under the water's surface... Even though he was already far from the drawbridge, he kept on swimming without coming up for air. He then disappeared from Heracles' view. He ran ahead along the wall and leaned over it once more.

Eros was still swimming steadily underwater, leaving a smooth surface behind him. The young man watched him carefully. He noticed that Eros' strokes were becoming shorter and more vigorous, and he then rose out of the water and took a deep breath. He had swum a quarter of the way around the wall. Heracles couldn't believe his eyes. He knew that he himself couldn't even swim half of that distance. He ran down onto the drawbridge with great excitement and waited for Eros to appear again.

"How'd you do that?" Heracles yelled from afar, when he noticed Eros' head.

"I'd gladly explain everything to you in the fortress," Eros replied after letting the water run out of his mouth.

"There's no pool inside the fortress."

"We don't need one. First I have to tell you all about the principles and rules."

"No one can get inside the fortress!" the young man was relentless.

Eros saw sadness in his eyes.

"Maybe I should build a giant horse out of spruce boards in front of your entrance and leave?" returned Eros, who didn't understand why Heracles wouldn't open the door for him.

"We both know what happened at Troy!"

"Yes, I know that one did survive, whereas there's nobody left in your fortress," smiled Eros.

"You don't know that," said Heracles abruptly.

"But I do know how to swim underwater!"

Heracles locked the door of the fortress with a big brass key and tucked it firmly into his belt:

"It's all a matter of perseverance! Practice makes perfect!"

He stepped up to the railing and breathed deeply to fill his lungs with oxygen. After a while he plunged into the water and swam off with quick, vigorous strokes.

Eros, who had meanwhile crawled up out of the moat, was walking along the water, observing the young man's swimming. His strokes became increasingly faster and spasmodic until he burst of the water all red in the face.

"Where am I?" he asked as soon as he could catch his breath.

"Halfway!"

"Halfway around the walls?" asked Heracles with surprise.

"Unfortunately only half as far as I got."

The young man crawled out of the moat and indeed... he could see the drawbridge perfectly well from that spot. But Eros had swum a quarter of the entire lap, which means that the drawbridge was no longer visible from there.

"The current must've gotten stronger."

"With the way you swim, you could swim with a swift current, but that still wouldn't help you," Eros scoffed at him.

"Let's make a deal: I'll teach you something you don't know and you'll teach me how to swim underwater!"

"If we did this in the fortress, your proposal might interest me," replied Eros, who was starting to find the young man's perseverance very amusing.

"Attack me!"

"You want me to attack you? How?" asked Eros with surprise.

"Any way you want! You can hit me with your hand or foot as long as you hit me hard!"

Eros was strong and couldn't understand why the young man wanted him to hit him.

Heracles put his right leg forward, slightly bent, with his left leg stretched out behind him, turned sideways. His body was upright and he held his hands in front of him as though holding an invisible ball.

Eros raised his fists, shifted his weight a couple of times, and took a swing at the young man. But the next instant he was lying on the ground, with his face in the sand, and the young man had his knee braced against his shoulder blade and was twisting his arm behind his back.

"Real aikido," said Heracles, letting go of Eros' arm.

Eros didn't know what had just happened and was so surprised that he immediately got back up on his feet and indicated that he wanted to repeat the attack. He decided not to swing willy-nilly this time, but to use all his force and skill to knock Heracles down... When he thought the young man wasn't paying enough attention, he swung at him with all his might. A moment later he was lying on the ground again, only this time the young man was holding him by the wrists so that he couldn't move.

"Use your opponent's motion against him."

"Who taught you that?" Eros asked with surprise, spitting out the sand still in his mouth.

"I was taught by grand master Paul, and he was taught by the greatest master of all, Ljubomir."

"When do we start?"

"At dawn. We'll have two sessions a day... one in the morning and one in the evening, before sunset."

The next day, when the sun was just peeking up over the horizon, Heracles was already standing next to Eros, who was still fast asleep. He poured a bucket of cold water over him, so that he was immediately awake and on his feet. The young man was wearing a kimono and unusually wide black trousers. He was holding some neatly folded clothes in his hands.

"Real aikido's based on training the will as the driving force called ki, and on the ability to harmoniously coordinate thought and movement, ai," explained the young man and shoved the clothes into Eros' arms.

"That sounds like Reason harmonizing with Emotion!"

"These are hakama, traditional Japanese clothing."

Eros put on the kimono and tied the hakama. Then they stepped over to the sand, so that their feet sank into the soft ground.

"First we'll learn the proper stances and motions, and then the right way to fall, and only then will we start the defense techniques," explained Heracles.

Eros listened carefully and repeated all of the motions after the young man. After the session they bathed in the moat, where Eros taught Heracles the proper way to breathe and swim underwater.

Days, weeks, and months went by like this. Every morning, precisely at sunrise, Heracles awakened Eros and they then practiced with an iron will. They spent the evenings chatting and their conversation often lasted late into the night. But the better Eros got to know Heracles, the more he wondered why he wouldn't let him into the fortress.

A few times it he was able to peek through the crack in the door when Heracles went through it, but he didn't see anything. One day when he was craning his neck again to at least catch a glimpse of something, this made the young man so angry that he threatened to burn his eyes out if he did that again. Eros didn't know how serious the threat was, but he knew that there must be something very important in the fortress because Heracles was shaking with rage.

After this, Eros still walked around the walls several times, looking for any kind of weak spot. He looked for a hidden door, a walled-up window or something similar. But it looked like the fortress was impregnable.

One clear day, Eros moved further away from the walls so that he could observe the fortress from a distance. From here, he could also see a tall guard tower with a pointed, peaked roof protruding from the center of the fortress. That was when he first noticed that the tower had four double lancet windows, one in each direction. The small double windows were flanked by two small Ionic columns, just like the main entrance, only that the windows had another column in the middle.

Eros wondered whether this had any special meaning, but because he couldn't think of one he returned to the fortress. He leaned against the railing of the drawbridge and thought about the young man's character. Rubia Maat also lived behind mighty walls, but her way of thinking was completely different from Heracles'... In his thoughts, he didn't sense any of the pessimism or fear characteristic of Instinct. Moreover, Rubia had never left her house until Eros' departure, whereas Heracles was often outside.

He also remembered well what the dog had entrusted to him: Never judge a person's character by his world! He realized that despite the seeming similarity between Rubia's and Heracles' houses, their characters were completely different... The young man planned everything carefully, his behavior was always well-considered, and he was a gifted mathematician, meticulous, and orderly. He didn't have problems with being punctual in the morning, which means he managed time well. All of this was characteristic of Reason, which may have suggested that precisely this friend played the most important role in Heracles. On the other hand, he was also a musician and an athlete, which first reminded Eros of Emotion as well. But he couldn't discern from his way of thinking that Emotion really played an important role with him. And Eros knew that Reason's perseverance and discipline could stand in for talent and that he could thus achieve a great deal in areas that would generally be foreign to him... He wondered how he could use this knowledge to get inside the fortress.

Reason is selfish, but what could he offer him in return, given that he had come here stark naked and the mirror probably wouldn't be worth much in the young man's eyes? He remembered that he had won his attention and friendship by solving the riddle, but he had already used up that opportunity... If only he knew what treasure was hiding inside the fortress! Then he could prove to Heracles that he wouldn't desecrate it. But the young man didn't want to hear a word about it. If the conversation happened to touch upon his secret, Heracles would become gloomy and lost in thought... sometimes he would just leave without a word, and sometimes he would become aggressive. Eros experienced that for himself especially during their aikido sessions.

One afternoon, Heracles resolutely decided to beat Eros' record in swimming underwater. He sat on the railing and collected his thoughts. He steadied his breathing and slowed down his heartbeat in order to minimize the use of oxygen. Then he took three deep breaths and descended serenely into the water.

Eros, who was watching him, knew perfectly well what he was up to, so he followed him immediately. It was also clear to him that Heracles would never achieve his goal and why, but he hadn't told him that yet... Eros swam completely naked with clear, unburdened thoughts, whereas Heracles swam in chainmail, which was a heavy burden that pulled him towards the bottom and offered greater resistance than bare skin. And the large key behind his belt also took its toll.

Eros saw the determination with which the young man fought, and against himself at that. His rhythm remained calm, and his goal clear. Soon he noticed that his lungs were twitching in spasms, trying to breathe. This was the hardest part and at that moment anyone would've given anything, even a fortress, for a single breath of air. But the young man composed himself and swam onwards.

The water was sparkling in the afternoon sun when Heracles swam past the point where the fortress cast a shadow onto the moat. The young man's strokes became increasingly clumsy and uncontrolled. Then he stopped, but his head still didn't come out of the water.

It was as though someone had blown out a candle that was still far from burning out.

Eros raced up to him, took hold of him around the neck from behind, and pulled him up out of the water, but Heracles was no longer breathing. He blew hard against his cheeks, so that the droplets of water rolled off the young man's face... Heracles suddenly shuddered to catch his breath.

Eros pulled him to the bank and laid him down on the grass, and this was when he first got a close look at the key behind his belt. The handle of the key was richly ornamented, with the same motif as on the portal of the fortress.

Heracles took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"How far did I make it?" was the first thing he asked.

His chin was still trembling and his arms were jerking as though he were doing some sort of South American dance.

"This time you went too far!" said Eros angrily. "I've told you a hundred times that you can't swim by yourself without someone watching you. You went too far and at that moment you passed out. You could've drowned."

"I only remember that I was swimming and suddenly I found myself in your arms," the young man said with astonishment. "Does that mean that you saved my life and that I owe you now?"

Eros didn't say anything. He considered whether he should mention the fortress, but in the end he said what he felt deep within himself:

"You don't owe me anything."

Now Heracles knew how much Eros wanted to find out what was hidden in the fortress, but he wasn't prepared to unlock the door for any price, not even for the price of his own life.

In the evening they built an enormous bonfire in front of the fortress, so that the sparks rose high into the air and the defense wall glowed in its light.

"Fire's like life—sooner or later even the biggest one goes out," said Heracles, watching the flames dance above the dying embers.

"Yes, but sometimes it can light a new one and keep on burning," replied Eros. "A wise man once said that when we die we only regret what we haven't done."

"What do you think happens when we die? Do you believe our lives continue in some form elsewhere, that we're born again, or that we're here only once and when we hit our expiration date, time stops forever for us and space disappears?"

"All of my life I've believed that, when the final hour strikes, the only thing we find out is the mathematical value zero," replied Eros thoughtfully.

"Does that mean you don't believe that anymore?"

"The dog says otherwise and he knows more than anybody else I've met in my life. I'll probably be able to answer your question only when I've left this life."

"You had a smart dog," said Heracles.

Eros smiled:

"The dog that I'm talking about was just the personification of Life. I met him in the woods."

"The personification of life?... And what did you talk about?"

"About love," replied Eros.

"Have you ever experienced true love?"

"No. But I really was in love and in my blindness I was convinced that it was true love. And you? Have you experienced it?"

The young man didn't answer. He thought about it for a while and then got up and tossed a few more logs on the fire. He poked at the ambers a bit with a stick and then disappeared into the darkness. The only thing that Eros could hear was the lock as the key scraped in the keyhole. It seemed to him that he had already experienced this once before.

But Heracles didn't go into the fortress; he stood at the locked door of his wall, leaning his back against it. He struggled with himself and wished deep down that he could unlock it, but he couldn't. For the first time in his life he was aware of how lonely he was behind the mighty walls. His heart filled with sorrow and it would've been easier to fend off an entire army of enemies than fight against this invisible, cruel force.

The next day Eros swam in the moat by himself. But when he wanted to get out of the water, he stepped on something that didn't feel like a stone. He reached his hand into the mud and pulled out a rusty iron cube as big as his fist. It wasn't clear to him what this could be used for. He turned it over for a while and then he noticed a small inscription on one side, which he couldn't make out because of the thick layer of rust. He knelt down on the ground and rubbed the cube against the sand until he'd rubbed off the rust and was able to read: Our love is as strong as iron, Sarah.

Now everything was even less clear to him... Who was Sarah?

He decided to surprise Heracles this time... He put the iron cube on the railing of the drawbridge and waited for him to come by. The young man immediately noticed the cube, but didn't show any surprise. He picked it up, looked at it for a while, and said:

"Did you know that time's the fourth dimension?"

"And how can you prove that?" asked Eros.

"Simple! If something exists, it means that it can exist an infinite number of times."

"True, but I don't understand how that's connected with time and dimensions," said Eros with surprise.

"The point's the basic element of geometry... it has no dimensions, but it still exists."

"Just like Life."

"In order for another point to exist that doesn't overlap with the first one, you need a distance between them. And this is also what determines the first dimension, defined by a line passing through both points and that contains an infinite number of points... You also need a new dimension for two lines that don't overlap. That's how the second dimension becomes height: the lines now define an infinite plane that extends through them ... If you want to have two planes that don't overlap, once again you need a new dimension. This third dimension is depth, and it defines a space ... But how could you have two spaces that are nonetheless infinite and encompass the entire universe without overlapping? There's a fourth dimension: time. You can place the spaces within time such that first one exists for a while and then the other. That's how they can never overlap, although each one with its three dimensions is infinite, just like the planes and lines before it," explained Heracles.

"... And you call this simple?" smiled Eros.

"Yes," said the young man, disappearing behind the door.

"So does this mean that the next dimension is reality?" called Eros after him, but he didn't receive an answer.

More than this business about time and the fourth dimension, what was now clear to Eros is that Heracles was definitely ruled by Reason. If he wanted to enter the fortress, he'd have to deal with him ... Not only would he have to convince him, he'd also have to win his total trust.

He didn't have to wait long for this opportunity.

One night when the moon was full, Heracles was unable to sleep, something that happened to him frequently. He walked along the wall until he stopped above the drawbridge. He sat on the edge of the wall and gazed at the sea under the moon's glow. He held a large brass key in his hand and fiddled with it. He noticed Eros, who was sleeping soundly in front of his door, thought about life, and remembered his words: When we die we only regret what we haven't done.

But what had he wanted to say with this?

At that, the key slipped through his fingers and fell into the depths. Heracles' blood froze in his veins and he felt he'd better go after the key himself. He closed his eyes and wished for it all to be a nightmare from which he was about to wake up and that the key would once again be safe and sound under his pillow. But the key had fallen, and right in front of Eros at that. It had bounced high off the wooden floor and loudly rang out with the magnificent sound of the Passacaglia, and then lay still on the ground.

a coda incidence that isn't completely incidental music

the reader must drop out in order to show

the music and everything after the co

The mysterious poem awakened Eros, and when he opened his eyes he saw the key: the key to the world that he so intently wanted to come to know. He picked up the key and stepped to the door.

He hesitated for some time, but then put the key in the lock.

And at that moment he understood what the dog had said: Be respectful of the secrets, because behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence! He knew what this meant and what he should do.

He turned the key, but didn't open the door. He left the key in the lock and sat on the bridge railing, with his back to the door.

After some time Heracles slowly opened the door and joined him.

"You didn't come in?"

"I didn't," answered Eros.

"Are you afraid of the truth?"

"I'm not afraid of the truth. You're my friend and no secret on Earth can be more valuable than that."

Heracles was silent... Eros had had the key to his truth in his hands, but he hadn't touched it. The realization that friendship could be worth more to someone than his secrets touched him deeply. He'd never met a person that showed him that much respect before.

"I'd be honored if you'd accept my invitation into the fortress."

Eros hadn't expected that kind of answer. He came up to Heracles and looked deeply into his eyes. In them he saw infinite trust, and so he knew that Heracles was serious.

"I wouldn't reject that kind of invitation for anything in the world," he answered and shook his hand.

Eros stood before the threshold of the wide-open door to Heracles' fortress. For the first time in two years he looked inside ... and couldn't believe his eyes. He'd known for a long time that the young man was a genius, but what he now saw exceeded all of his expectations.

"What are you waiting for!" said Heracles, his face beaming happiness.

In Eros' ears the words echoed:

Don't forget to respect secrets ...

"How could I have been so blind that I didn't figure out sooner what the big secret of your fortress is," said Eros, and stepped into

Through the double lancet window Eros looked at the moonlight reflected on the surface of the sea. The column in the center of the window cleaved it in two like a watchman guarding the secret of the fortress. As though it wanted the moonlight to think about the secret of the coincidence before touching its own truth.

returned only after seven days. He took the mirror from the wall and tossed the coil of rope that had waited for him at the base of the bridge over his shoulder.

Heracles stood behind him and for the first time in his life felt someone so close to him. Eros turned to him and shook his hand. The young man took advantage of the moment and for the last time laid him in the sand, twisting his arm behind his back.

"I told you that the weakest part of defense is unpreparedness," smiled Heracles.

At that moment a horse whinnied behind his back.

"Good joke, Eros, ... what you wrote on my armor. I've been looking for you for two years and asking people about you without success!"

Eros picked himself up, brushed off the sand, and looked at the inscription on Ares' armor.

ANSWER T̶H̶E̶ ̶O̶P̶P̶O̶S̶I̶T̶E̶ OR DIE

"Leave him alone, I'll handle him myself," said Heracles, stepping in front of the rider.

"People have been giving you the wrong directions for two years ... not bad!" laughed Eros.

"I only came for your own good, brother of mine."

"Well you can go back, then, because our paths don't go the same way."

"I wouldn't say that," returned Ares, dismounting.

But when he wanted to take Eros by the arm, even before he touched Eros, he found himself on the ground, just as Eros had a moment earlier.

"AI sends his greetings, and KI says that what you can DO is go home now," said Eros, binding Ares' arms and legs with the rope.

Heracles, who had observed Eros' skill with pride, just shook his head:

"That's real aikido, too."

"This rider is my brother Ares. He wants me to go back home ... What are you waiting for, help me get him on this horse," said Eros to him.

Together they set him on the horse and firmly tethered him to the saddle.

"Home, Lictor!" cried Eros, slapping the horse on the rump.

Lictor made a high leap and headed home at a gallop.

Eros looked at the young man, who was staring at the horse and the cloud of dust being raised behind him.

"The highest walls are those we raise ourselves ... See you, Heracles."

"Eros, wait!" ... Ever since you came to me, you've always spoken only the truth, and although I often doubted you, you've always been right. You were only mistaken about one thing—he knew the truth, but his heart wouldn't allow him to destroy it!"

Eros didn't understand what the young man was getting at.

"Look at the entrance to the fortress!"

"I see two columns and an upside-down, triangular pediment above the door with a family crest ..."

"Look more closely!" persisted the youth.

"All together it reminds me of the letter M," said Eros, looking at the youth with amazement.

"My name is Heracles Marchand. I'm Louis Marchand's eleventh great-grandson"

"You, Marchand?" stared Eros.

"On the seventeenth of February way back in 1732 my ancestor Louis was on his deathbed. He pulled the Bach manuscript out from under his nightstand and said, 'This is punishment for my conceit, my vanity, and all the sins of my life ... These fifteen years I've wanted to throw it into the flames of the fire a hundred times, but I was never able to. If I destroyed it, my soul would roast in hell for all eternity ... The Passacaglia is a work of God and its creator points his finger at me in it, but this will only be recognized by those whose thoughts are as pure as his. Protect it, and one day the truth will be known.' Those were his last words ... The Passacaglia has been in the hands of the Marchand family ever since it was brought here in 1717 by the postal carriage. Until the moment on the bridge when you explained the meaning of my ancestor's final words, which hadn't been correctly understood by anyone before, it had never left the fortress. Other than my ancestors, nobody else had ever seen that manuscript," said Heracles.

"The Passacaglia cannot be compared with anything else Bach wrote. Your great-grandfather also knew this well because he suspected who had helped him create it. He recognized its truth and understood its lesson, and that's why he saw himself in the Passacaglia ... Behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence," Eros concluded, and at that moment it seemed to him that he was looking into the eyes of the great Louis Marchand himself.

***

Signaling the spirit of the building, the inscription that Eros saw on the door of the town library read He who learns from books finds happiness.

He walked in and his nostrils were struck by the musty smell of paper. The place was well-lit and pleasantly warm because the big windows allowed the light to penetrate deep into the room. The imposing wooden shelves stood like a chorus of elders, resisting the weight of the books gathering dust. The sun shining through the ceiling made of milky white panels lit up the tables in the center of the hall, worn smooth by elbows. Here a few people were studiously bent over their reading material and taking notes. Others were standing and reading, or were walking among the shelves, looking for books. Some of them were chatting, but Eros couldn't hear a single word, as though the people were not whispering, but lip-reading. Nobody even coughed or blew their nose, and even the worn parquet on the floor didn't squeak, so that complete silence reigned in the library.

For a long time, Eros stood in front of a large table, with nobody at it. He only noticed a few blank library cards and a book with white covers. He walked off among the shelves and looked at endless rows of books arranged in groups and subgroups.

Many of the patrons were dressed very strangely, as though from another era or as if they were going to a custom ball. They were so focused on what they were doing that Eros felt like a ghost living among the old tomes, unnoticed by anyone.

It seemed like he was the only one less interested in the books than in the people walking among them. He noticed a book in front of him called Emotions. He was about to set down the mirror so that he could pick it up, but then he noticed something strange in it: there wasn't a single book in the reflection. All of the shelves appeared completely empty, as though waiting in the dark for someone to enlighten them. In the mirror he couldn't even see the book that he wanted to take from the shelf. Even though it was there, next to him, he could see his hand in the mirror, clutching nothing.

"Can I help you?" said a female voice, rousing him out of his thoughts.

All Eros saw at first was an enormous pile of books and then a slightly crooked nose sticking out from behind them. He leaned a bit to the side and saw small dark eyes that appeared even smaller and rounder in the worn-out frames of a pair of glasses.

"I'm looking for happiness," answered Eros.

"Is that a novel or a collection of poetry?"

"... I was thinking of your happiness."

"Your Happiness... Your Happiness...? I don't remember that title. Who's the author?"

"You, naturally."

"Eunah Trilly? I haven't heard of her either; come with me and we'll look it up in the catalog," said the woman, turning around.

Now Eros noticed her luxuriant black curls, which fell down past her shoulders almost reaching her waist, above her generous hips.

"Have you found happiness in your life?"

The librarian came to a halt. Suddenly the pile of books in her hands tipped over and, when she tried to catch them, she fell over on top of them.

"How could I find it when I haven't even reached the desk yet? You're really impatient, aren't you? Do you remember the whole title now? If I've understood you correctly, we're looking for a book called Happiness in Your Life," said the librarian and put her glasses back on.

Eros picked up the books and placed them on the table.

"I'm not looking for a book..."

"If you're not looking for a book, then you're in the wrong place. This is the city library and we only have books here," she said, cutting him off.

"What about you? Aren't you here?"

The librarian looked at him with surprise over her glasses:

"So you're interested in my personal happiness! To be perfectly honest, it seemed pretty weird to me that you were looking for a book called Happiness in Your Life. That title doesn't make sense. Happiness doesn't have a life that it could live. But today books have all sorts of unusual titles, not to mention what's inside them. The classics are something completely different."

"... But you do have your life."

"These books are my life and they contain everything that a person needs! Including happiness."

"Don't we need love, a home and family, friends, experiences, joy, freedom, the sun and the wind, the stars, the cicadas, and curiosity in our lives?"

"It's all in books!"

Eros didn't expect an answer like that. He sensed a decisiveness in her words and he knew that any attempt to convince her of the importance of happiness in life would fall upon deaf ears.

"If that's the way it is, let's start reading," he said abruptly.

"Do you have a library card? I can't remember ever seeing you here before."

"No, I'm here for the first time."

"Here's a card, fill it out. If you need me, I'll be over by that pile of books. I'm Miss Jones, but you can call me Veronica."

"Thanks, Veronica. I'm Eros."

Eros watched her disappear among the shelves. Soon she came back with an even bigger pile of books to add to the catalog and then arrange on the shelves. She wrinkled her brow as though she weren't sure she was doing everything right.

Now and then somebody that needed help came up to her. Veronica would listen carefully, ask something, and then go to the shelf and retrieve the book they were looking for... Even though the library was large and richly stocked, it seemed that Veronica knew not only the titles and authors of the works, but also everything that was in them and where they could be found in the library. Only occasionally did she have to look through the catalog and, no matter what the person needed, she always found the right book.

Eros took the book called Emotions back off the shelf and started reading.

Soon, however, a young man coming through the main door caught his attention. He looked shy and confused, his head was slightly bowed and his small gray sunken eyes peered out above his red cheeks. He was clutching a bag as though he wanted to hide behind it or didn't know what to do with his long arms.

"That's Thomas, a clever boy with a fair share of bad luck. He's studying law and he's failed Roman law for the sixth time," Veronica explained behind Eros' back.

"In 451 BC the Roman senate yielded to the pressure of the plebeians and the tribunes of the people to adopt and record their rights. The law code was written on twelve bronze tablets, which were available to the public at the Forum. The Romans were extremely proud that their state was based on rights and laws. Even today Roman law is still the foundation of modern civil law, and passing this class is a real test for every student studying law," said Eros.

"Did you study law?" asked Veronica with interest.

"No. When I was a kid, I wanted to hear all of the fairytales and, when they ran out, they started reading to me from the encyclopedia."

Thomas, who had spotted Veronica in the meantime, first wavered a bit and then gathered his courage and approached her:

"Excusive me, my professor gave us a new assignment and I don't know where to find the right information."

"What kind of assignment did he give you?"

"Augustus decided to write a new will, in which he left all of his property to his first love. The question is whether the will was valid."

"I'm sure you'll find the answer in the book Cases from Roman Law."

"The will can't be valid because it doesn't clearly define the heir... Nobody can know for sure who the first love of the deceased was," said Eros.

"From the encyclopedia?" asked Veronica with surprise.

"No, common sense," said Eros, looking at Thomas.

"You say you've been having trouble passing the class. Have you studied enough?"

"Maybe not the first and the second time, but now I've been studying every day... At first I thought my professor was just demanding, but now I'm convinced that it simply depends on luck and what kind of mood he's in."

"Roman law represents an important milestone in your life. Not only your future depends on passing this class, which is why Life expects you to be willing to make a sacrifice for it."

"But I have sacrificed, I've been studying three hours a day."

"Maybe that wasn't enough."

"Well, I have to enjoy life a bit, too," said Thomas indignantly.

"Cicero wrote that in ancient Rome even the children had to learn the law by heart. You yourself said that you hadn't prepared well the first two times, which means that you wanted to find a shortcut... but you didn't make it. It's true that the Gauls later burned Rome and destroyed the bronze tablets, but the rights that were written on them have survived. It seems to me that knowledge from books isn't all that Life expects of you this time, Thomas."

"But my classmate who loaned me her notes didn't study a lot and she passed the very first time! That's not fair... she must have gotten her grade from the professor some other way."

"So everything's clear," smiled Eros.

"What's clear?"

"Life's offering you two paths. The first is the path of poverty, on which you have to toil to survive without an education. This is the path that fits the way you're thinking now... But you can choose the other path, where prosperity awaits you, but you have to earn it first. That means you have to do your best. Life will judge whether you've sacrificed enough. On this path there's no room for excuses, envy, and jealousy; you'll have to realize that only you alone are responsible for your own happiness. You can't fool anyone about this... least of all yourself. When you fulfill these conditions, then you'll also pass Roman law."

"Does that mean my life's in my own hands?"

"Precisely. Remember: behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence."

"So now I have to work even harder?! Tomorrow I'm locking myself in my room and burying myself in my books!"

"Working harder means starting today," Eros corrected him.

Veronica wrinkled her brow again and shook her head. She was leafing through a book, lost in thought, as though a decision of vital importance were before her.

"Is there something wrong?"

"The entire library's arranged using a universal decimal classification system. This makes it possible to find things, but it's not perfect. The books are arranged in nine groups that cover all human knowledge; for example, the third group is social science, the fifth math and natural science, the seventh art... The groups are then divided into subgroups and then into new subgroups."

"And what's wrong with this system?"

"Mostly that nobody uses it anymore today when looking for books, neither users nor data specialists! To look for things, you need classification tables and only my assistant Rania knows how to use them. Moreover, there are always books in the library that fit into two or more categories or don't fall into any of them. The system is flexible and doesn't depend on the language, but it makes it harder for users to find things and takes them far too much time."

"So you're looking for a useful division that would make it possible to classify all of the books?" asked Eros.

A slight, pale girl came up to Veronica.

"Veronica, what category should I put these books in?"

"Iris, don't bother me. Can't you see I'm talking with this gentleman?!"

Iris lowered her eyes and walked away.

"I've been dealing with this problem my entire life," continued Veronica. "I've already tried every possible classification, but I keep running up against the same problem... Speaking of problems, do you think my neck looks swollen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think I'm having problems with my thyroid. I feel a strange lump here on my neck and I always feel hungry. Even though I eat all the time, I've lost six pounds in just a few weeks."

"It doesn't look to me like there's anything wrong with your neck. Have you asked a doctor about it?"

"Not yet."

Then their conversation was interrupted by a middle-aged man with a high forehead and small narrow eyes:

"Excuse me, I'm looking for research on claustrophobia."

"Come with me," said Veronica and she led him away among the bookshelves.

Soon they returned with a pile of books.

"Didn't that man feel claustrophobic between the bookshelves?" asked Eros.

"He's not the one with the problem... He's a well-known psychiatrist. He's been treating a patient with severe claustrophobia for several years. It looks like his therapy isn't working this time. Now he wants to get to the bottom of things and he's looking for similar cases."

"I see," said Eros and, lost in thought, he went back to the table where the book was still waiting for him. He leafed through it for a while because he'd forgotten where he'd left off. When he wanted to start reading again, the psychiatrist sat down next to him. He placed a stack of books in front of himself and started reading the first one. Eros looked at the titles with interest as though the man had brought the books for him.

"Fears are the language of Instinct," he said without looking at his neighbor.

The psychiatrist looked over his glasses with surprise:

"Instinct is the expression for logical, unplanned activities by animals, usually oriented toward preservation of the individual or the species. Considering that it's an inborn hereditary ability of performing subconscious acts, I'm not sure how this could be connected with fears."

"You're talking about instinct, but I'm talking about Instinct, which doesn't have anything in common with your instinct... except the name."

"Are you a psychiatrist?"

"No," said Eros.

"Then I suggest that next time you learn more about the things you discuss with a professional psychotherapist."

"Then allow me to humbly congratulate you," said Eros and immersed himself in his reading again.

The psychiatrist watched him for a while:

"Congratulate me on what?"

"For convincing a man who's afraid of enclosed spaces to keep on paying you for your advice."

The man's round cheeks flushed and his graying sideburns suddenly looked completely white. His chin dropped a bit as though he wanted to say something but changed his mind at the last minute:

"... And who would you be, so that I'll know who to recommend my patient to next time?"

"Eros. And Life directed you to me, not your patient. It's no coincidence that with all these empty tables around you sat right next to me!"

"Do you think you've got a better solution for my patient?" asked the psychiatrist, whose cheeks were still flushed.

"I've got no idea what kind of solution I could recommend for your patient. I was only remembering what the dog told me about Instinct and fears."

"You discussed psychology with a dog? Maybe you should drop by my office sometime," said the psychiatrist, smiling.

"You can judge for yourself since you're a doctor of psychology," said Eros, offering him his hand.

"Miles," said the psychiatrist with surprise, not expecting a handshake.

"Eros, pleased to meet you. So how did you go about the therapy?"

"I used transactional analysis and behavioral cognitive therapy."

"I've never heard of them."

"The patient felt a very unpleasant sensation of anxiety in small spaces and often acted irrationally. We look for the cause of this in interpersonal relations because the patient can transform these problems into a new form—in this case, into claustrophobia. Treatment takes place at various levels, but it's important to make it clear to the patient that enclosed spaces don't represent any real threat and to confront him with his fears... My patient and I worked out a plan for what to do if the attacks continued. It's important to recognize the first sign of the attack and immediately direct attention elsewhere. In his case, to his heartbeat. Attention can be redirected using any involved cognitive activity, such as counting down from one hundred by sevens or by focusing your attention on calm, deep breathing. Reorienting your thoughts can prevent the development of an attack, in which the patient loses control. The awareness that you yourself can influence how you feel should bring relief and give you a sense of power."

"But that only happened when you were there," Eros went on.

"You've guessed correctly. Even gradually getting him used to a small space didn't result in any improvement."

"I see that you have a lot of experience. I'm sure you do your work conscientiously, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here with a pile of books and talking with a stranger about your work. Maybe you'd be interested in how your patient's problem is connected with what the dog told me about."

"I'm all ears," said the psychiatrist, smiling.

"The problem is that until now you've viewed each person as a single whole: one person, one brain, one mind. The trouble was that this mind often had more than one way of thinking. So you ascribed the internal oppositions to the subconscious, which, in turn, you connected with behavior patterns from the past, from early childhood or adolescence... The dog also assigned a lot of importance to the influence of the environment, only that for him the environment is the world that every individual perceives in his own way. Our mind is actually composed of three independent minds that operate following different principles and see the truth each in their own way. They're called Instinct, Emotion, and Reason. Each of them interprets the same event or situation in a different way."

"Breaking the human mind into different minds to solve problems doesn't represent progress."

"No, not until you understand how they're connected with each other."

In the meantime, Rania had come back to Veronica.

"A man returned that book... I left it on your desk."

"How could he even check it out if it still hasn't been entered in the catalog?" asked Veronica with surprise.

"Well, I couldn't say no to the Prime Minister."

By now, Eros and the psychiatrist were chatting loudly in the reading room.

"Excuse me, there are a lot of people in the library and you two are yakking away like two old women," whispered Veronica a bit louder.

"But they're not bothering me," said an elderly man at the next table, "quite the opposite!"

"I'm writing a thesis on Carl Jung's collective unconscious and I'm finding this conversation really interesting," added a young student.

"Let them finish, I also don't have anything against it," said a woman with cat-like eyes, who hadn't seemed to be following what was going on around her until then.

"But still, these two gentlemen are in a library," Veronica persisted.

"It's also not very polite that you interrupted their conversation," said the man.

"OK then, go ahead. But a bit quieter," said Veronica, returning to her pile of books.

"Psychological processes are intertwined and complex, and simplifying them like this is amateur and superficial," continued the psychiatrist.

"Physical processes are also complex, but still the most famous formula for energy is very simple. And nobody claims that the minds aren't connected with each other and that their processes aren't complex. The fact simply is that only dividing the mind into three independent minds actually makes it possible to understand and predict how the whole mind functions."

"So explain to me the connection between the three minds and my patient."

"Given that your patient's afraid of closed spaces and that fears are the language of Instinct, we can conclude that his problem's connected with this mind. An outburst of great fear or irrationality is a sign that Instinct has violently shouted down the other two minds. The question is why he does that... Maybe there really is a room in your patient's house with something Instinct's immensely afraid of. Maybe this room's also connected with relations with other people, which is common with those that have unusual phobias. If you can discover this room and find out what Instinct's truly afraid of, maybe you can also solve the problem with his fear. But even by listening carefully to your patient, you can see there's something that distinguishes him from other similar cases... His Instinct's not screaming out of fear of the unknown room, but simply because the patient doesn't listen to him. By making the patient count backwards, you directed all of his attention to his other mind: Reason. At first this did cover up Instinct's efforts, but on the other hand you only made Instinct angrier. And this further aggravated the patient's problems."

"His mind's screaming because the patient's not dedicating enough attention to it? That's just like with my wife," smiled the psychiatrist.

"And how do you quiet her down?"

"I take her out for a romantic dinner or dedicate some of my free time and attention to her."

"If this works with your wife, there's no reason why it shouldn't work with your patient's Instinct as well!"

"So my approach actually had exactly the opposite result in my patient?"

"Precisely! Just as if your wife was in a bad mood and, instead of dedicating your attention to her, you went to your mistress, who's more willing to listen to your problems, and hoped this would calm your wife down," smiled Eros.

"But how can the patient dedicate his attention to his Instinct?"

"When he screams again, he should not view this as something that he needs to avoid at any price. Ultimately Instinct's also his friend and only wishes him well. There's no need for him to direct his attention somewhere else. Instead, he should try and find out what Instinct's trying to tell him. Instinct's pessimistic and can perceive even the smallest problems as insurmountable obstacles. If he gets the feeling that the patient's ready to listen to him, he'll speak with a softer voice, and this amount of fear may already seem manageable to the patient and his claustrophobia will disappear. But don't try to convince him that tight spaces aren't dangerous. Instinct's stubborn and headstrong, and rational proofs only achieve results with Reason. This would only make Instinct more agitated."

"I still disagree with your theory of the three minds, but I'm ready to give it a try... Thanks for your time."

He took his hat from the rack and left the library.

Eros watched people looking for books and the knowledge in them. As though they believed they could find answers to all of their questions in the words... You need only find the right book. Even those interested in poetry acted like children who believe their mothers will protect them from everything bad in the world. The verses caressed their suffering hearts just like their mother's hands once stroked their hair, and their tiny gentle hands clung to her skirt.

This was an unusual world of intellectuals: self-centered, splendid, and mentally rich, but blinded and miserable.

Veronica sighed deeply—she was holding a white book in her hands that she couldn't classify into any of the groups. She kept a secret shelf for these types of books in the basement, where she put everything that didn't match the system she'd introduced. This shelf was like a nightmare from her worst dreams. To her it seemed like a reminder that her system wasn't perfect.

She had put the shelf in a dark corner in the locked basement, where only those that knew about the shelf were allowed to go. But there were only few of these. Books that Veronica found inappropriate for the readers—because they could have a bad influence on them—also ended up on this shelf. There she also put all the old books and notes whose languages and writing had already been forgotten and which readers would no longer understand anyway. She labeled this shelf Overlooked.

Rania, who was the most meticulous among Veronica's assistants, had long ago thought of very unusual solutions for these books. She had all of the books from this shelf copied, but in a way that the copies fit into the shelves in the library. Surprisingly, nobody noticed this, and the copies were often the most widely read; this especially worried Veronica because she was afraid that someday someone would ask her about the originals. But that had never happened. People blindly believed what the majority believed.

The majority of copies ended up on the shelf labeled Religion and for many this was the most important shelf in the library.

The Overlooked shelf was like hell in Veronica's soul, and so Rania carefully guarded the key to it.

Eros would often walk among the shelves, which overwhelmed him so much that he completely forgot about his mission. His desire to discover new things was insatiable... he was interested in absolutely everything: from history, architecture, psychology, philosophy, music, medicine, physics, biology, anthropology, and economics to fiction, even poetry, and more. So one day he noticed Rania taking one of the books down to the basement. He followed her and found himself in front of the Overlooked shelf.

He was surprised to see that all the books on the shelf looked brand new, regardless of their age. He couldn't see any traces of use anywhere and the pages in some books were completely untouched. Eros soon realized that many texts were written on papyrus or leather, or even carved in stone or clay and, even though he had never learned the ancient letters and unusual characters, he could easily read everything. But even more than this, he was surprised to see that he could understand texts even though he didn't speak the languages they were written in. He felt that some works were really old. How on Earth did they end up here?

In the dark basement, Eros noticed a young man, whom he didn't see at first because he could have easily been mistaken for a statue. Even his posture was unusual, as though he wore a crown even older and nobler than the British one. But there was no scepter in his hands. His wrists were chained in iron.

"Can I help you?" asked Eros.

"I'd like to get that book from the shelf, but I can't reach it," answered the young man.

"Books should be accessible to everyone," said Eros and placed the black book into his hands.

"That is what these books are all about and that's why I'm here."

"I'm Eros."

"Rolihlahla," said the young man and Eros saw something in his eyes that could break through even the tallest walls in the world.

"What about other books?" asked Eros with interest.

"Other books don't know the truth."

"And what's the black book about?"

"The injustice and sadness, despair and suffering, misfortune, and truth of people that don't have access to books."

"So why then don't you use this white book instead if the black one's so sad?" asked Eros and took the book next to the black one from the shelf.

"White books aren't allowed for us," replied the young man sadly.

"To you? Who on Earth told you something so stupid?! You can take whatever book you like because this is a public library," said Eros and also placed the white book into Rolihlahla's hands. At that moment, the iron cuffs around his wrists began to melt like wax in the hot sun. The young man first looked at his hands in amazement and then at the white book he was holding.

"Can a book have such power?!"

"Behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence," said Eros, astonished himself.

"Thanks for the book," said the young man and started climbing the stairs out of the basement.

"Unbelievable! That someone would say something like that to him?!" Eros was trying to reach the top shelf when a large book of venerable age opened up in front of him:... he spoke the truth and was unfairly punished because of that; his master laid a stone on his chest, but Life sent him Ebu to buy him off and save him from slavery...

Eros couldn't believe his eyes. Until then he hadn't come across even a word about Life in any book.

Not far away he noticed a cedar crate with some sort of a seal on it, under which there was an inscription: The Treasury of King Ashurbanipal. Eros pulled a heavy stone tablet from it, which read:... the right side of the moon is Akkad, the left side of the moon is Elam, the top of the moon is Amurru, and the bottom of the moon is Subartu. These are the signs of the four groups...

On the next tablet he noticed a circle within a square, divided into twelve parts representing constellations and marked with the signs of the zodiac. The signs were connected into pairs, so that there were six pairs on the tablet altogether. In the middle of the circle there was a three-star constellation marked with a man colored green and holding a snake. The vertices of the square featured images that each rule three signs in the circle, and the inscription below the figure read: The constellations bear the names of characters. Each of the twelve human characters is complemented by another character. This character sees what the first cannot see, understands what the first does not understand, and feels what the first one does not feel. Combined, they see perfection.

Eros found a pen next to the tablet and a piece of donkey hide. He spread it out and noticed a translation of what was inscribed on the tablet: Constellations influence characters. Each of the twelve human characters is influenced by a different planet. The planets see what people do not understand. A conjunction of planets predicts the future. Next it was a copied sketch, but many details were missing on it, including the entire central constellation.

"Are you looking for any book in particular?" Eros heard Veronica's voice behind him. He could sense uncertainty in it. She blushed and it seemed to Eros as though she didn't want to see him there.

"I'm only exploring. This shelf is something special, the books are different."

"These books are not for the public!"

"Any why not?"

"They're dangerous and people don't understand them. Some of them don't comply with the values of our time and that's why they don't belong in the library. And others are impossible to categorize using the current system."

"But aren't people lacking something because of that?"

Veronica blushed again:

"They can't lack what they don't know. Besides, translations have been made for many of these works and they read them eagerly."

"Translations like this one?" asked Eros with surprise, holding up the donkey skin.

"Yes, that's one of the most popular ones."

"But it's completely wrong!"

"Ptolemy's a respected expert and linguist. Rania brought him here."

"It's not just the words. The translator obviously didn't understand the meaning of the work he was translating."

Eros pulled out a book called The Nobles and wanted to leave the room.

"That book can't be revealed!" said Veronica.

Eros put the book back on the shelf, but he pushed it in so deep that he could pull it out again on the other side, and darted up the stairs with it.

"Do you believe in God?" Veronica asked Eros.

"I believe in Life."

"But your life isn't what dictionaries write about it."

"No, it isn't."

"I haven't read anything about that anywhere."

"Neither have I until this very day. I learned about Life from a dog. He was a personification of Life."

"But if life truly had as much power over our lives as you were telling Miles, there wouldn't be so much injustice around the world. Couldn't its influence prevent all the disasters, wars, and suffering occurring around the globe?"

"People cause their own suffering and injustice is only a lesson we learn from our own mistakes," replied Eros.

"What about diseases and incurable viruses... how could life allow something like that?"

"Allow? It was the one that created them in the first place! You only have to understand their role."

"Do you see that slim lady over there?" Veronica gestured at an older woman with red hair.

"Yes, I've noticed she's studying human rights."

"That's Theodora. She's dedicated her life to seeking justice, but still hasn't found it. She lost her job unfairly in her best years and that sealed her fate."

"Was she a poor worker?"

"No, exactly the opposite. Even though she had to prove herself in a man's profession, she was very successful. She achieved above-average results. But then she lost her boss' favor and was left without a job overnight... How could this life of yours, with all of its influence, ever allow something like that to happen?"

"Life teaches us that we must contribute our small part to the prosperity and happiness of all. When we work against this principle, it gives us a lesson from which we must distinguish the right way... If Theodora was truly treated unfairly, Life will be good to her and her injustice will be repaid. On the other hand, it's quite possible that Theodora treated someone else unfairly and all of this has only been a lesson for her. So in such circumstances we shouldn't try to find a way to take revenge, but what can we learn from it. People only see a small piece of the whole picture, and that's why they don't understand the plan. But Life has a perspective on things that our mind can't understand and that's why life often seems unfair and unjust to us."

"If it were like you say, that would mean that we would always have to submit to fate, even if it's evil."

"Exactly the opposite! You have to fight to be happy and, only if our path to happiness is the right one, then Life will favor us. Whoever thinks that happiness will find him is mistaken. The same is true for those that think they can be happy at the expense of others. At any moment and regardless of the circumstances we have to accept our lives alone. The worst defense against evil that we encounter is the evil that we create. In that case we only lose Life's favor, which is worth more than anything we can achieve on our own."

"So you believe in destiny?"

"I believe Life shows us the way. It's like a hand that blocks an ant's path. The ant only sees it as an obstacle that it tries to overcome at any cost because it doesn't know that there's mortal danger on the other side. Only if it realizes that the hand's actually a signpost can it reach the goal it's seeking."

The door of the library flew open. The young man came in, beaming and in a good mood, with his head held high and a relaxed gait. Veronica looked at Eros with disbelief:

"It looks like Thomas passed his exam. I can't believe it!"

"Life has just answered your question," said Eros, shrugging his shoulders with satisfaction.

"That's pure coincidence! I don't believe in the supernatural... What you're saying is contrary to reason."

"I'm not talking about the supernatural. The Life I mentioned is scientifically perceptible intelligence. It's a mind that has existed within us since time immemorial. In order to exist, it uses both our brains and bodies, as well as the brains and bodies of all other living beings. Its inconceivable power lies in its connection between all living things. Our problem is that we consider ourselves the most mentally developed creatures on Earth and it's difficult for us to conceive of a mind that's developmentally several steps ahead of us."

"I can't accept your theory. You have no evidence for it."

"As you wish. If it seems important to Life for you to get some kind of hint about this, it will send one."

"Don't forget that no scientific discipline in the world has ever discovered anything that would confirm what you say. We don't contain any transmitters, we don't radiate anything, and lightning doesn't flash from our heads. You're also well aware that all chakras, auras, karmas, and other hocus-pocuses are merely a figment of human imagination and beliefs in what can't be explained!"

"I completely agree with you. People often explain what they can't understand with something incomprehensible, and that doesn't make any sense."

"If life's so almighty, why would it suddenly think it's important to reveal itself to us?"

"Our civilization has attained a high level of development, but we may have strayed from the right path. The proof of this is the fact that the further we go on our path of progress, the less happy we are. We ourselves can't even see one step ahead, but Life knows where our path will end up. So the only thing that remains to it is to leave us to our destruction or, by revealing itself, to give us a hint how to overcome the obstacles we face... The shelf you're hiding from people could be a hint that this isn't happening for the first time, and only that Life always thinks of a different plan that's more suitable for our stage of development."

"Such an intelligence would have to use an unimaginable quantity of data. It seems incredible to me that such a great stream of information could be flowing right before our eyes and could remain completely unnoticed!"

"Well, an earthworm couldn't differentiate between a fountain pen and a tree if it found one right under its nose."

"Excuse me for interrupting your conversation, but Nathan and I came across an interesting natural phenomenon that might have something to do with the 'life' you're describing, young man."

"Science ought to be on my side in this conversation," frowned Veronica.

"Science should always be on the side of truth alone."

"But science should be based on explanations and tangible proof rather than unreal assumptions!"

"The phenomenon that my friend and I encountered is much easier to prove than explain. It actually doesn't agree with anything that we've understood so far, or at least thought we understood."

"What did you find?" asked Eros.

"If a pion with a neutral electrical charge decays into an electron and a positron..."

"... these probably aren't the peons on the chessboard?" asked Veronica.

"No, I'm talking about extremely small particles that in particle physics we also call mesons. The pions I'm talking about are a kind of meson... If two particles fly off in opposite directions, they preserve the quality known as spin. We can't predict what kind of spin an individual particle will have, but we do know that the spins of these two particles will always be opposite... And now the fun part!"

"If I happen not to laugh, that'll mean that I didn't understand the fun part," added Veronica.

"If we separate these two particles, and then change the spin of one of them, the spin of the other particle will also change at the same time. What's interesting is that it wouldn't be any different even if the particles were on opposite sides of the Earth or even further apart. If our brains knew how to use this phenomenon, we would be able to communicate effortlessly at any distance whatsoever and perhaps even with a speed that most physicists don't recognize as possible. I hope you understand that this turns everything that modern science currently believes upside down."

"Thank you for the explanation, Mr. Podolski. I suggest you continue your research because for now your pions don't explain anything to us," said Veronica.

He didn't hold it against her.

"If this life of yours were really as fair as you say it is, and everyone got what they deserved, how would you explain the abuse of innocent children, who have never done anything wrong or harmed anyone? You're not saying that they deserve to be punished, are you?" Veronica insisted, convinced that she had cornered Eros this time.

"When we die, our Ego fuses with its origin: Life. At that moment we understand everything that we can't conceive of now with our limited earthly minds. Then Life sends a new body to us. For us this is the beginning of life, but in fact this its logical continuation."

"I don't believe in reincarnation."

"This isn't about reincarnation, but a continuum. If, in our lives, we harm others or prevent them from being happy by what we think and do, we end up back at the beginning of our school of life. In fact this is our hell because we find ourselves in circumstances that ought to lead us to true realization. The worst thing is that we're not aware that it's all just a test that we created for ourselves."

"And why doesn't 'life' tell us this?"

"That's just the point: Life doesn't want us to become calculating and do good only for the sake of gain. Life's not looking for servants and merchants, but true nobility."

"And what does this nobility have to do with the abuse of innocent children?"

"Our new life is connected with our previous one. So we can return to it as the descendants of our own children, relatives, friends, or complete strangers and even our worst enemies. It's no coincidence that we meet certain people in our new life, and they are always connected to or past in some way. Life decides about all of this... Whoever abuses a child does something unacceptable. Such a child will very likely be affected by this and will also end up on the wrong path. But one day coincidence may lead precisely the one that destroyed his life to him, and this person will then feel all of the consequences of what he did in his new skin... Because we only see part of what happens, we don't know all of the circumstances and only see injustice. But this doesn't mean that we're not here precisely because we can help prevent it."

"So that's the school of life."

"The vicious circle repeats itself until someone realizes how to transcend himself and despite his bitterness manage to give the love that he himself was robbed of. Life will reward him for that and change his hell into heaven—a heaven on Earth, of course."

"So you believe that the heaven and hell we're living are some kind of report card from the school of life?"

"Life guides and directs us through our schooling. If what we do is good and right, everything works out to make us happy and our lives easy. If not, it's exactly the opposite."

"You're telling me about castles in the sky, but your castle is... in the Oort cloud! You don't have any proof or scientific basis for what you're saying! I believe that life's what we make it, and when it's the end, it's the end! Eternal darkness! Our bodies rot and decompose. The last thing we do is make some worms happy, and that's all!" said Veronica, ending the conversation and walking toward her desk.

And yet this fairytale is more likely than eternal darkness and happy worms. If Veronica's decided to live in darkness, she has every right to do so. Maybe someday one of Öpik's comets will finally fly into her world and carry her away among the clouds. Who am I to judge what's right and what's not? It's no concern of mine, thought Eros and shrugged his shoulders again.

At that moment, the heavy book slipped from his hands and its hard corner fell on his toe.

"OK, I got it!" muttered Eros with annoyance, and then he pulled out a book called Principia from the top shelf, which was hard to reach.

He was well aware of the task before him, so he limped towards the table. He had hardly gotten through the introduction, when Miles came into the library looking for him.

"I did what you suggested with my patient and now it's like he never had claustrophobia at all! But it was just luck that your suggestion worked out. I'd need a lot more examples to come to any kind of conclusion!"

"So let's continue," replied Eros.

"A young man meets his dream girl. He tries to win her affection for a long time. But, when he finally succeeds, he can't get an erection. Biologically he's perfectly healthy..."

Not far away, a thin elderly man with a high forehead, neatly trimmed moustache, and thick white beard took off his glasses and perked up his ears.

"... the girl's educated and has a successful career, but lacks confidence. She keeps testing the young man as though she doubts his love."

"Bad experiences from the past?"

"A lengthy relationship with a married man, and after that she wasn't able to establish long-term relationships. She keeps looking for a confirmation of the young man's affection, but she herself doesn't respect him and often even humiliates him. She compares him with others and tells him how good her previous lovers were... At first the case seemed clear to me, almost a textbook example, but none of my efforts yielded any results... The problem is that the young man doesn't want any other girl."

The man with the white beard and glasses had moved over to the chair next to him, so that he could hear the conversation better. By the time Miles finished the story, he was already leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"It's obvious that the young man's penis is smarter than he is," said Eros.

"It's not easy for him and his distress is growing. How would you help him with your understanding of the three minds?" asked Miles.

"I need some more information for that!"

Eros asked the psychiatrist detailed questions about their characters that Miles answered.

"It looks like the young man's thinking with the mind called Emotion, but his girlfriend's character is a combination of Instinct and Reason. This is why they're already having great difficulty communicating without even knowing what they are. From what you've said it's clear that the young man's in love and that he accepts his own world. So one day he'll be able to love... But the girl's having major difficulty that prevents her from even falling in love. It's quite obvious that she doesn't accept her own world and, as long that's the case, she won't experience love."

"That's all completely clear, but what's it got to do with the young man's erection?"

"We're still getting there... It's Instinct's fault that the girl can't fall in love anymore. After the first time she was in love, he created a room in her house that she doesn't want to enter anymore. She's afraid of being disappointed again and so her Instinct locks up all the men that appear in her life in that room. For him all men are the same. He believes they only seek external beauty and sexual gratification. He's not aware that the girl herself keeps choosing such men; she's most attracted by those that are ruled by Emotion... It's true that Emotion thinks in pictures and that's why he's also attracted by visible beauty, but certainly doesn't mean that such men are only superficial. That's only how her Instinct sees them and it's precisely because of this error of his that the girl's rejecting her world... But those that can't accept their world despise anyone that accepts their world, without any good reason, because they can't stand the feeling that any other world could be better than theirs. This also explains why the girl keeps humiliating the young man. She only wants to show him that his world isn't worth accepting any more than hers is... On the other hand, Instinct wants to protect the girl from being disappointed again and so he's trying to put the young man into the room with the sign 'All men are the same!' Then she would have a reason to leave him. She does this with all men and so she can't create long-term relationships.

But this time she's encountered someone that's fallen deeply in love with her and doesn't belong in the room with the others. But her Instinct has decided to prove at any cost that this one is no different from any of the others, and so he'll humiliate the young man until one day he gets fed up and leaves... Instinct has set a trap for him, so that in the end the unfortunate man will shove himself into that notorious room."

"Interesting, that's exactly what happened," said Miles.

"But the young man's in love and his Emotion isn't willing to let go of the picture he's created that easily. He soon came back and the story continues."

"That's right."

"It's only now that the young man started to have erection difficulties..."

"You've guessed right!"

"... and it's not clear to you how these problems could strengthen and improve their relationship, even though they usually mean exactly the opposite in other similar cases."

"I admit you keep surprising me," said the psychiatrist with astonishment because he hadn't told Eros about this.

"Regardless of his power and role, each of the three minds can prevent a man from becoming sexually aroused. This usually happens because one of the minds is resisting the will of another. Whoever views the human mind as a single mind can easily overlook the connection between the three of them, and treatment is often like shooting in the dark, where only now and then you hit a detail by coincidence. But psychology shouldn't be a gamble; after all, it involves human lives."

"Those are serious accusations!"

"But I'm not accusing you. The likelihood that you would succeed wasn't small, but it was an exceptional case and that's why you told me about it."

"You still haven't revealed the young man's problem to me and how to solve it!"

"One of the young man's minds is to blame for everything. This mind realized he had to prove to the girl's Instinct that the young man's love was sincere and that he was really interested in much more than just her external attractiveness and sexual satisfaction. So that mind deprived him of sexual arousal for a while to give the girl's Instinct a strong hint that the young man really wasn't just thinking like other men. Because the young man wanted to stay with the girl despite his problems, her Instinct realized that there was something more to it. Instinct relented and their relationship improved. The resulting fickleness was connected with her Instinct being suspicious. Even so, now they had all of the conditions for her to finally accept her own world and both of them to get to know true love, in which there's no lack of passionate sexuality."

"This is where your theory fails. That still hasn't happened yet, even after all this time."

"I didn't say that it had happened. I'm only saying that it would happen... if you hadn't interfered in the course of the events. Think about the therapy you've chosen based on cases that seem similar, and soon it'll be clear to you what happened."

Miles considered this and after a while he said:

"I created a real problem out of a problem that didn't exist."

"Gambling."

"Your explanation's simple, but it's also different from everything else I've heard so far. If it works, the problem's solved. My fellow psychiatrists would surely laugh at me if they found out I'm planning to use it. I'm curious to find out what will happen," said Miles, darting out of the library.

The man with thick moustache and round glasses opened the book in front of himself and tore out a few pages. Eros noticed this.

The man sensed his gaze and smiled at him:

"I wrote this nonsense!"

Eros didn't understand what he was trying to tell him and so he kept on reading, but Veronica soon interrupted him.

"Theodora was thrown out on the street today! She'd been renting. Then the owner suddenly changed his mind and threw her out of her home without any reason. This is unheard of. Overnight the poor thing lost her job, and now she has no roof over her head. So how would your wisdom explain this injustice?"

Eros didn't say anything. He had the feeling that Veronica wanted to prove something to him at any cost. His thoughts were interrupted by a woman with her hair in a bun on the top of her head and a sheaf of scribbled papers in her hands. Her bright eyes flashed with decisiveness.

"Excuse me, Veronica, I've just finished this book and I'd like to have your opinion."

"Just give it to him because he knows the answer to every question," said Veronica.

The woman with the bun was disappointed because Veronica turned her down. But, because there was nothing else for her to do, she turned to Eros:

"If you don't mind, Mr....?"

"... Eros."

"Selma. I'd be really happy to have your honest opinion," said the woman. She put the papers on the table and left.

Eros read the title and, because it seemed extremely boring to him, he shoved the notes to the edge of the table.

"I almost forgot... I found my great-grandmother's diary today," Said Veronica, interrupting Eros. "I didn't know her. She died before I was born."

"Is it interesting?"

"She often mentions a neighbor of hers that she obviously didn't like. She keeps making fun of her crooked nose."

"Do you have a family photo album?"

"Sure... Why?"

"Bring it here, I'd like to look at something."

Soon Veronica returned with the photo album, which contained pictures of her relatives and predecessors. Eros looked at the pictures carefully.

"Isn't it interesting that nobody in your entire family except you has a crooked nose?"

Veronica took the album and carefully looked at all the pictures:

"You're right, but how is it possible? Do you think these people in the photos aren't really my ancestors?"

"I think they are. Maybe it was you that wrote the diary you read."

"What do you mean? But it was written by my great-grandmother... you can't confuse her beautiful writing with my handwriting."

"Behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence," said Eros.

"I've arranged all of the books and entered their data into the catalog. We aren't expecting any new ones today. Can I go home early?" a girl asked Veronica.

Eros noticed that a man's wristwatch was the most feminine things she was wearing.

"OK, Rania, but just this once," said Veronica and her assistant went out the door.

"I've got these itching red spots on my wrist... I don't remember burning myself anywhere. Maybe it's some kind of allergy?!" Veronica complained to Eros, holding up her wrist, where there was a faint redness.

"A lot of doctors come to the library. Why don't you ask Zora, the world-renowned plastic surgeon? I'm not omnipotent, after all!"

Veronica's assistant Emma tugged at her sleeve:

"Do you have time for a cup of tea?"

"Of course, I'll be right there," said Veronica happily, truly exhausted after her long day of work.

Eros hoped that he'd finally have some peace and quiet to read his book. Only now did he notice the full title: Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica. It was written in four lines of different sizes, so that a reader could easily miss the whole title.

But he'd hardly started reading, when an apple fell from the neighboring table and rolled over to Eros' feet. A man with long curls and a jutting-out beard got up and picked up the apple. He wiped it on his velvet jacket and peered at Eros' book:

"They say that nobody can understand it."

Eros gave him a surprised look.

"If there's anything you don't understand, just ask," he said and bit into the apple. Then he went back to his table.

Eros continued to read a little. Then he decided he wouldn't let anyone else disturb him. The book really was hard to understand, but its content was compelling. Not so much because of what it discussed, but because of the mind that it revealed.

He read in peace for a while, and then noticed a woman next to him, who was constantly turning her wrists and then her ankles and elbows. Her behavior was hardly noticeable and silent, but there was no way Eros could concentrate on his reading.

Veronica noticed his predicament.

"Maria Skłodowska! She's got joint problems."

"And I thought she was flirting with me," said Eros.

"She lost her husband in an accident; a carriage fractured his skull. He used to come to our library regularly."

"What a tragedy!"

"Excuse me, have you read my book yet?" asked the woman with the bun.

"I haven't had a chance yet," said Eros.

"Where's Eros?" asked Miles excitedly.

He spotted him at a reading table.

"Now it's as stiff as the Eiffel Tower! I've got a feeling that you've played a good joke on me. One of my colleagues must have engaged you, and you cooked up a plan and even got my two patients to play along!" said the psychiatrist, panting.

"I can assure you that this wasn't a joke, and your notion of a conspiracy was created by your Instinct," smiled Eros.

"I'd really appreciate it if you have time. I'm starting to run out of money," said the woman with the bun.

"Alright, I'll do it," said Eros.

Suddenly there was a loud thud between the shelves. Iris was the first one there.

"Help me turn him onto his side... he's having another epileptic attack," she cried out.

A group of people crowded into the narrow space between the bookshelves. A pale man with sparse, thin hair combed to the side was lying on the floor. His body was shaking as though in the throes of a raging fever. His bony face with sharp cheekbones was flushed. The people were watching and waiting to see whether someone would do something.

"Put a book between his teeth, so he doesn't bite his tongue," suggested Veronica.

Miles picked a book up off the floor and handed it to her. Veronica looked at the Cyrillic title with surprise:

"The Idiot? He's not a horse! Something thinner! Quick!"

Iris took a thin booklet from the shelf, an index of literature, and shoved it between his teeth. Soon the shaking stopped and the man came around.

"Have you stopped taking your medicine again?" asked Veronica, offering him a tissue.

"I know I am very guilty!"

"You are to blame, and yet you persevere!"

"I'd prefer to stick to Christ rather than to the truth," said the man, wiping the spittle from his jacket.

Silence reigned once again in the library. The people dispersed in all directions and went about their work.

"Do you also know how to cure dysthymia?" asked Miles.

"Maybe... if I knew what it was!" replied Eros.

"For several years the patient's been affected by melancholy, only rarely interrupted by brief periods of feeling good. At first this seemed to be a mild form of recurring depression."

Eros noticed two men by the window, engaged in an animated conversation.

"... But the episodes didn't taper off," continued the psychiatrist.

"... Meaning?"

"That the signs of mild depression were constantly present. For no serious reason at all, the patient was initially sad and depressed, and then tired and listless. He became increasingly dissatisfied, but he himself didn't know what he was dissatisfied with. He had a strong, constantly increasing sense of inferiority," explained Miles.

The debate between the two men at the window was becoming so loud that Eros could hardly understand the psychiatrist now.

"What treatment did you decide on?"

"I tried everything and when even interpersonal group therapy didn't work, I prescribed medication for the patient. To me, this seemed like admitting failure. I still wonder if it would've been possible to help him some other way," said Miles.

Eros couldn't help overhearing something about mountain formation on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean from the argument by the window.

"Interesting. If everything you described about your patient had been the opposite, he wouldn't have been just a healthy man, but somebody full of energy, bursting with happiness, and full of himself."

"What are you getting at?"

"He would've had every sign of being in love," replied Eros.

"Depression as the psychological opposite of being in love?"

"Precisely! In everyday life, our minds are usually somewhat at odds; the less important ones object to the more important ones, and this provides greater impartiality. But when we're in love, the minds stop opposing one another. This unusual new state fills us with a power and happiness that we can feel, but also with a blindness that we just aren't aware of. If the state of being in love is harmony between the three minds, the opposite of this, depression, is an argument among the friends. From the nature of being in love it can be concluded that being in love ends with depression, but this is manifested to various degrees: the greater the disagreement among the minds, the stronger the depression. If the friends start to oppose one another, this can lead to all sorts of trouble. For a person's wellbeing, cooperation among the minds is essential. People ruled by two minds are therefore much more susceptible to depression than those whose character is mainly influenced by one of the minds. Why it comes to an argument is another question. There are many possibilities, but usually this has to do with disagreement in accepting one's own world... Your task is to discover which part of his world—maybe his house—the patient doesn't accept. Maybe he's got hidden unfulfilled desires that he himself isn't aware of. Maybe he's stopped believing in his dreams or had to come to terms with a world that part of him never accepted. All of these are possible reasons for your patient's condition," concluded Eros.

"I've just thought of something. I'll call him right away," said the psychiatrist and put on his coat.

Eros hoped to finally find some peace and quiet for his book. But this was not to be.

"... Caster and Mendes carried out extensive field research and determined there are no connections between the mountain ranges."

"I don't know where Caster and Mendes looked, but the correspondence between the rocks is obvious... even a blind man could see that!"

"I'm amazed by your credulity. The Earth isn't a children's jigsaw puzzle, where you can just stick Africa to South America and the continents can travel around like cornflakes in a bowl of milk."

"If everything stayed put, like you believe, erosion would've washed the mountains into the seas long ago. It would've changed the landscape into a plain, and the ocean floor would be full of silt and soil that the rivers had carried from the continents over thousands of years."

"Mountains were created by volcanoes!"

The woman with the bun stopped by Eros' table again. Now she was dragging one leg behind her, as though she wanted Eros to take pity on her.

"Not yet—but I have to tell you that this title doesn't promise much," said Eros.

The woman limped away sadly.

"You know very well that many mountain ranges can't be attributed to volcanic action. At the top of the Alps you can find the remains of foraminifers, calcareous organisms from the seabed..."

Eros had heard enough of the argument.

"Allow me to interrupt your extremely interesting discussion, which I found almost as fascinating as The Natural History of Fishes. I'd like to ask you to continue after the next Big Bang."

The two men stopped in shock.

"You're really impudent! So you explain to Mr. Hapgood what's moving the tectonic plates on the surface of the Earth!"

"It'll be easier for you to explain to the ignorant Mr. Taylor that the Earth's surface doesn't move anywhere whatsoever. Just like the wheels in his head," retorted Hapgood.

Eros looked at the two men and didn't know what to say. It was obvious that any answer would only add fuel to the fire in their debate. He noticed a book above Mr. Taylor's head with the shiny title The Moon.

"The answer to your question is the Moon," he said without really knowing why he had said that.

"The Moon?" asked the two men in surprise at the same time, expecting some sort of explanation.

Then Eros thought of something that he had seen a bit earlier in the book that he was trying to read.

"The Earth's orbit around the Sun is actually an ellipse..."

"Yes... and half the world knows this," said Hapgood.

"... and the Moon orbits the Earth," continued Eros.

"... and the other half of the world knows this," added Taylor.

"The Earth's also spinning on its axis, which is why the centrifugal force at the Equator raises its crust, causing both poles to flatten. So in fact the Earth doesn't have the shape of a sphere, but a geoid... The great mass of the Moon causes the Earth to rotate at a constant angle and with a corresponding velocity, and this influences the stability of its axis," explained Eros.

"... and how's that supposed to be connected with the movement of the continents? The system that you're talking about has been balanced for millions of years already, and so it can't be connected with the current movement of entire continents," replied Hapgood, taking a step back.

"You mean several hundred million years," Taylor corrected him.

"Hundreds of millions—as if! The entire Earth itself isn't even that old," replied Hapgood.

"That's the way it would be if the Moon weren't slowly moving away from the Earth, changing the position of its axis."

"The shift of the axis alone wouldn't move the continents," Taylor objected.

"True, but only if the Earth changed along with it. But this phenomenon also causes the north and south poles to shift. And along with them the Equator also moves, and so it's currently drifting towards the south in Africa, and towards the north in North America. Because of this the geoid has to constantly correct its shape, and during the daily rotation of the Earth this operates like a lever as the Coriolis effect and is sufficient to raise and lower entire continents. This means that the ones that are being lowered are moving under the ones that are rising."

The two men were dumbstruck by this explanation and stared at each other for a while as though turned to stone... Eros hoped to resume reading his book in peace.

"Excuse me for interfering in your conversation like this, but I can assure you, young man, that you're wrong," said a man a bowtie.

Eros looked up at the elderly man.

"Didn't you notice that the two men are still speechless with wonder? Isn't everything else of secondary importance?"

"William Thomson, you've probably heard that we've just successfully laid an electric line from England to America... If the continents were really moving, it would tear our line."

"What did I tell you, Mr. Taylor," said Hapgood with satisfaction.

"They say that your connection didn't work for long," observed Eros.

"Well, what did I tell you, Mr. Hapgood," said Taylor with satisfaction.

"It's true that we had problems, but that was because the electrical current was too strong and not because the continents were moving," explained Thomson.

"I hope you heard that, Mr. Taylor; it was the electrical current, not movement," said Hapgood, smiling.

"Please, gentlemen, this is a library, not a club. We need silence here. If you don't follow the rules, I'll have to ask you to leave the reading room," said Rania, stepping in.

Hapgood and Taylor headed towards the door.

"If the Equator were moving towards the south in Africa because of the Moon, the correction of the geoid shape would lower the northern part of Africa, which would make it stretch out and move under Europe..."

Hapgood grunted:

"The Earth's only a few hundred million years old? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"There's no shame in ignorance. Don't worry about it, you've got your whole life ahead of you, young man," said Thomson and left.

"I'm not ashamed of my ignorance, I'd only like to read my book in peace!"

"Don't take him seriously. Mr. Thomson hasn't finished reading a single book in ten years. He denigrates anything that he didn't think of himself. He probably believes that his prominence and wealth allow him to despise others and feel superior," said Rania, trying to soothe Eros, who was quite agitated by now.

"If he's so clever, let him say how old the Earth is," grumbled Eros, just loud enough for Mr. Thomson to catch his words.

Silence finally reigned in the library. Eros remembered the sheaf of papers on his table. He pulled it over to himself and started reading. He was absolutely enthralled by the book.

"How could you give such a masterpiece such a boring title?" Eros asked the woman with the bun, resting his elbows on her table.

"But that's the name of the main character. Why do you assign so much importance to the title? Doesn't the content seem more important to you?!"

"Main character or not, such a great work deserves something more original! Who would even take a book with a title like that off the shelf?"

"I really have to get this book to the publisher."

"One more thing... Now I know everything about you!" said Eros.

"But this book isn't about me," said Selma with surprise.

"You've poured your thoughts into it so clearly that I've seen you, even though you're not writing about yourself. You've written an exceptional book. If people only knew what was hiding below its boring exterior! I wish you lots of success," replied Eros and headed back to his table.

Selma stared at her notes for a while. Boring exterior? she thought, and added A Saga after the title.

Veronica was walking between the shelves, putting back the books that people had left on the tables. When she wanted to put back the book Emotions, she noticed the mirror that Eros had left there. She took it from the shelf and started looking at herself in it. First she smoothed her hair with her hand and then she gathered it into a ponytail. Then she puckered her lips and looked at her nose, until she noticed the small wrinkles by the sides of her eyes. She stretched out her face as though she were holding a lemon wedge in her mouth, and for a few moments the skin on her face was taut.

"Once they appear, they get worse every day," said Iris, seeing how Veronica was making faces in front of the mirror.

"Don't you have enough work?" said Veronica with annoyance, laying down the mirror.

Emma, who had been hiding on the other side of the shelf to avoid work, started giggling:

"A few smile lines don't make you old. They only make you more attractive... everyone loves people that smile."

"Thanks for the consolation," replied Veronica, smiling herself.

Now the little wrinkles seemed quite attractive to her, and she would've even been pleased with them if Rania hadn't chimed in.

Rania was somewhat jealous of Emma because Veronica paid more attention to her. She and Emma often chatted over tea and frequently returned late, which especially bothered Rania. She herself had no trouble being punctual as clockwork. And this was why she defied and opposed Emma wherever she could, but on the other hand, out of the three assistants she was the one who tried the most to have Veronica reward her or at least receive some recognition from her for her efforts.

In the meantime, Eros started looking for new books. A young woman with sparkling black eyes noticed him between the shelves and came closer.

"I hear you're looking for good books and so I was wondering if you've read this one yet," she said and offered him her book.

"I haven't. If you think it's good, I'll be happy to read it," replied Eros and opened the book.

"I'm Grazia," said the woman.

But the book had already taken Eros far away into the world of legends and myths of the ancient Sards. It was like when he was a child and his whole family would travel to the seaside. He remembered Eloise, how she used to tell him stories, and how he and his brother would listen to them until the wee hours of the morning... He stood reading between the shelves, when he was suddenly so startled that he almost dropped the book.

Right in front of his nose he noticed an old oil lamp that an old man was holding in his left hand in full daylight. His right hand was hidden beneath his torn soiled robe.

The old man looked up and down at Eros' naked body and then cried out:

"The man!" so loudly that Eros was startled once again.

At that moment the flame in his lamp dimmed and went out.

"If you want to keep on scaring me like that, next time you can yell out 'a dead man,'" said Eros.

But the old man replied:

"Did Kyne send you?"

"Nobody sent me, I came on my own," replied Eros, feeling somewhat sorry for the old man because it seemed to him that he wasn't quite in his right mind.

Then he started reading again.

The old man stood still, staring at Eros for a while longer and then left, saying:

"I've found him, now you can bury me in peace."

Eros suddenly thought of something that made him stop, as though rooted to the ground. He impatiently leafed through the book and then began to take other books from the shelves. He didn't read their titles, but just gathered the books in his arms, until the pile was so heavy that he could hardly carry it to the table. He opened the book called The Overcoat. He stared at it for a while and then at other books as well... Uncle Tom's Cabin, The Art of War, Meno, The Little Mermaid, La Vita Nuova, The Mahabharata, Les Misérables, The Tenth Brother, The Known World, The Moonlight Fairytale, The Violent Land... He leafed through each book and placed each one in a different pile. Then he went to get more books, until there were twelve piles on the table.

Veronica noticed him and wondered what he was doing.

"I've found what you've been looking for for so long," said Eros, putting down the book called The Nobles, which he was just about to open.

"What?"

"Do you remember our conversation about the three minds and the twelve human characters?"

"Of course I remember," said Veronica, who still didn't get it.

"Books also have personalities! They can be categorized just like people. Books are like mirrors... no matter what they're about they always contain the truth as seen by their writers," explained Eros.

"And does that mean for our library?"

"That's the system that you've been looking for. You can use it to arrange the books by the twelve human characters. This way people would easily be able to find books they understand. And by reading other books they could learn to understand other characters," replied Eros.

Veronica's assistants had also overheard the conversation.

"What if we shelved them by color? That would be simpler," suggested Emma.

"That wouldn't solve anything because every book has its own color... I'd like to know how we're supposed to recognize these twelve characters," asked Rania.

"Simple. You have to find out whose way of thinking each book follows. All of the books by the same author will end up on the same shelf. The first three shelves will be dominated by Reason, the second three by Emotion, and the third three by Instinct, and books by writers with a combination of two minds will end up on the fourth three shelves," explained Eros, marking all twelve characters on a piece of paper and showing the importance of each mind by the size of its initial.

"All we need now is a plan for how to do this without inconveniencing our patrons too much," said Rania.

"But isn't anyone afraid that..." began Iris, but Emma cut her off:

"... No other library uses this kind of system. This will definitely attract new patrons, too!"

"This is exactly what I've been looking for all my life. Let's start immediately!" Veronica cried out, hugging Eros.

The library patrons watched with amazement as Veronica, Emma, Rania, and Iris started emptying the shelves that very day. They put the books in a big pile in the middle of the library and when the shelves were bare, they arranged them so that they had twelve rows, which they then placed on all four sides of the library, so that there were three shelves on each side.

Veronica supervised the whole thing and was thrilled. Even though she didn't know where Life was leading her, she felt she was on the right path. It had been a long time since work had flowed so harmoniously and smoothly in the library, and the synchronization was like a fresh wind filling her sails.

Rania was the first to grasp how to recognize the characters of the books. Iris and Emma had some difficulties at first, but it soon turned out that Emma was really good with poetry. Only Iris was in doubt the entire time, constantly asking whether she had put this book or that on the right shelf. The patrons calmly watched the new system taking shape. Only a young economist objected, but Veronica wasn't interested in his opinion. So he went after Rania and tried to convince her that the new key didn't make any sense at all and that it was only destroying the proper order and values in the library.

"All of the books will be entered into the new catalog. You'll still be able to find them just like before. We were looking for a system with a human face. You'll be surprised to discover how many of your favorite books from various areas you'll now be able to find in one place. This arrangement will especially be helpful for people that don't know what they want," said Rania, defending herself.

"But how can someone not know what they want? I don't understand how you can create such a mess just because of one moron when everything had been working just fine."

"People were dissatisfied," said Emma.

"Is there anybody here at all that knows what you're getting into? The government has already caused enough trouble for us. This is a breakdown of the system!"

At this point an older man with glasses on a chain interrupted:

"For people that aren't talented but want to make something of themselves, there's nothing else to do except criticize the truly talented."

At the other end of the library, an older man with two large volumes in his hands was watching the books being moved.

"I'd like to know where you're going to put these two fat books now; it looks like they've hardly been read thanks to the system that Veronica had been using until that young man came along who dares to shamelessly walk completely naked through a library as prestigious as ours even before these young people started gathering in it, who first of all don't know what to do with their boredom and second of all don't have any manners like we used to have in the Oyster Club."

"Among the boring ones, Mr. Hutton! Among those that have sentences as long as tapeworms and are as easy to understand as when the French speak English," laughed Emma.

"Don't be rude, Emma, this gentleman's a respected member of our society," Iris scolded her.

"The young Miss is right, my dear friend James. The two books are ingenious, but incomprehensible and boring like your jokes," interjected Mr. Playfair, picking up a fountain pen that Mr. Hutton had dropped. "Anyhow, Adam and David told you the same thing in the club yesterday."

"Adam? He should watch out that an invisible hand doesn't grab him by the neck when we meet next week for another glass of Madeira! That would certainly represent an improvement to our society," said Mr. Hutton, laughing at his own joke.

Veronica went down to the basement with Emma to arrange the books from the shelf labeled Overlooked.

Here they found Eros, staring absorbedly at an old manuscript written in characters.

"Until now I've been convinced that the great Chinese thinker hadn't left us any of his books. All of the existing manuscripts are thought to be the work of his disciples, but here I've found a book called The Nobles. The author's the great master Confucius himself."

"It was donated to us by that man," said Veronica, pointing to a man with a pigtail standing in the darkness not far away. He noticed that they were talking about him and so he pressed his palms together and bowed almost imperceptibly. Eros did the same.

"This shelf's much more unusual than it seemed at first," said Eros, pulling out an old papyrus.

"What do you mean?"

"Unlike the books upstairs the works on this shelf don't see only their own truth. Although they were created by various people over the millennia, they seem to be the work of a single mind."

"Are you saying that we still can't arrange them among the other works?"

"The works on this shelf don't belong on any of the twelve shelves," said Eros, lost in thought.

"But that's not possible! You yourself said that we could arrange books by any author using the twelve shelves!"

"I also don't understand this myself. Look, here's an ancient plan for the great pyramid at Giza. While people in the library have been guessing about the meaning of its shape for centuries, a simple answer's written on the papyrus."

"What?"

"The pyramid represents the twelve human characters. Its surface comprises four equilateral triangles, which represent the characters with their angles... each triangle represents one of the four groups."

"Just like the shelves in the library!"

"Yes, but it's of key importance that the pharaoh doesn't belong to any of them. In order for him to be able to return to life as a ruler, he had to know the twelve correct answers. Only somebody that can see the truth of all twelve human characters can pass this test."

"How come nobody ever noticed this?"

"The shelf Overlooked doesn't officially exist in your library, and people didn't see the truth. Instead you were blinding them with lies. Just think of the kind of nonsense those who read the translations of this truth believe in," said Eros, pointing at the old manuscript.

"The truth of the third eye?" asked Veronica with surprise.

"People don't even know what the three eyes represent. So it's no wonder that their heads spin in all sorts of different directions."

Emma pulled a photo of a sculpture from the shelf:

"Look, here's a picture of an ancient archaeological find. The woman's holding some sort of horn with thirteen notches in her right hand. Maybe this proves that even ancient peoples knew about the thirteen constellations of the zodiac. Maybe the horoscope's also much older than we think," she cried out with excitement.

Eros looked at the picture. It showed a woman with generous hips, resting her left hand on her stomach and holding a horn with thirteen notches in her right hand.

"Unfortunately not every truth is as unusual as seen in the eyes of your Emotion, Emma. The woman has her hand on her stomach, which indicates she's pregnant. She's colored with red ochre, which represents menstruation, and the thirteen notches only represent the number of days until she ovulates... The sculpture instructed women that didn't want to have any more children to count the days."

"Is that so?" said Emma, disappointed.

"It's easy for me to define the books' characters, but I can't identify my own at all. It seems like I've always had some of all the features," said Veronica.

"Come, I'll show you your character!" replied Eros and he led her into the reading room. "Do you know which shelf your favorite book's on?... Your character's also written on it. How could you not have discovered this before?" said Eros.

"Wait! Let me find it!" cried out Miles, going to Veronica.

"You're communicative... social... sometimes pushy and you're late to work every morning... on the other hand, you often doubt everything and you're afraid you've got some sort of disease. You can go to your shelf," said the psychiatrist and closed his eyes.

"Emotion in first place, Instinct second, and Reason last! You're standing at the sixth shelf," said the psychiatrist, point his finger at the shelf. Then he opened his eyes, but Veronica wasn't standing where he was pointing, but at the next shelf to the left. Above it was written:

REi

"Here are all of my favorite books: Winnie the Pooh, Mr. Mulliner, and even Holy Deadlock," said Veronica.

"I don't understand," said the psychiatrist, scratching his chin.

"You were blinded by her Reason," said Eros.

"Blinded?"

"Reason can seem to take on the behavior patterns of the other two. He does this when he believes that he can achieve his goal by doing this."

"Reason the trickster?!"

"Yes! Veronica really does talk about diseases a lot, but have you ever had the feeling that she's really concerned about them? Have you ever asked yourself why she talks about her diseases with everyone except doctors? If she does see a doctor, she quickly forgets about the medication he prescribes."

"Like little children who cry will all their might, but only while they know their parents are watching them. As soon as their parents leave, they quickly stop crying. So her Reason's also looking for attention?"

"Maybe he hasn't found everything in books that a person needs to be happy after all," said Eros.

"The two of you are making fun of her. She's been drinking water all day, but she's still thirsty. Maybe this is the beginning of diabetes, which could also kill her," said Rania, offended.

"If I were you, I'd be thinking of a pizza with lots of garlic," said Eros, grinning.

"How amusing," hissed Veronica and left.

"How did you know about the pizza? Can you see the truth?" asked Emma with surprise.

"From her breath," said Eros.

"I have to admit that at first I was laughing at your way of thinking," said Miles.

"Among all the minds, Instinct's the last to relinquish his truth."

"Your theory's worth considering. I studied your words in detail and, until I'd looked at them through the eyes of my mind, everything seemed like a mangy dog that I wouldn't touch for anything in the world. Then I remembered the idea of our own mind twisting the truth even though it's right there, written before us. It's unbelievable how you can blindly trust the mind you've been trusting your entire life... I let my minds speak up, just like you've described it to me, and I got to know completeness I've never seen in my life before. I felt as though I'd been struck by lightning. I realized that I didn't have to throw away everything I'd known so far because your words only connected all the things I'd already known. It was as though I'd spent my entire life studying the colors of tiny squares and then realized that this was in fact a wonderful mosaic showing the image of a perfect world. How can I ever thank you for this?"

"Look at the image again and you'll see you owe me nothing. You can thank your patients, whom you can now share the truth with."

"Today an autistic patient came to me and for the first time in my life I was able to understand the reason for his genius with numbers. With his help, now I'm discovering Reason's way of thinking... I keep thinking of my past experiences and many doors are opening in front of me. I've developed a completely new approach to psychotherapy that I can use now to help people. Now I see every patient as a visit by three friends sharing the same problem."

"Just make sure you don't charge the patient three times," smiled Eros.

"I'm taking walks with my patients though their worlds, houses, and rooms. Your representation's very picturesque and so patients find it easier to understand... I'd like to present this new approach at a major psychotherapy conference, but you haven't told me what it's called."

"The dog hasn't told me that either. He only named the three friends, and even then he used the names we've understood completely differently so far, which, to be frank, often misleads people," replied Eros.

"Maybe he only wanted to emphasize that we've been talking about things we haven't really understood. Maybe he wanted to let us know that we have to learn to view the same things differently."

"He really must have chosen those names for a reason, so I suggest the new way of understanding our psyche is called REI," said Eros.

"Reason, Emotion, and Instinct! What if Emotion and Instinct get offended because of Reason being named first?"

"Emotion likes to be at the center of attention and, because in this case he's surrounded by a friend on each side, he won't complain. The older Instinct doesn't want to expose himself and feels safest in the background."

"OK, the name's been selected!" replied Miles. "I almost forgot to ask! You mentioned that Instinct's the oldest among the three minds and that Reason's the youngest. How come?"

"Allow me to answer this question for you," interrupted an older man, whose bald head, long gray beard, and deep-set eyes close together under protruding brows made him look like a forest elf.

"Is everyone here eavesdropping?" asked the psychiatrist with surprise.

"I apologize, my name's Charles Robert Darwin and I have to admit I couldn't help listening to your conversation."

Eros noticed a small scar on his forehead.

"The finch! From the Galapagos Islands," said Eros, pointing to his head.

"Did you recognize the shape of the beak?"

"No, the dog told me," confessed Eros.

"Doesn't that take the cake. On top of everything, the dog also knew about the finch from the Galapagos Islands that pecked your head," said Miles, slapping his forehead with his palm.

"I'd really like to hear your explanation about the evolution of Instinct, Emotion, and Reason, Mr. Darwin," said Eros invitingly.

"When life first arose, the environment was very unfriendly and dangerous to living organisms."

"But that's how it still is today, right?" asked Miles with surprise.

"To a much lesser extent, because at the beginning of their evolution organisms weren't yet adapted to the environment in which they found themselves. At first it was all about who would survive and who wouldn't. Organisms urgently needed a mind that would help them survive, would be extremely cautious and recognize any danger at just the right time. These circumstances created Instinct, who until this very day has remained a cautious pessimist, whose key role is to protect against potential problems and survive. That's why he speaks in the language of fears... When Instinct was perfected, organisms found it easier to overcome the dangers in their environment and their chances of survival became much greater. So then came the time for improvement. But organisms improved only slowly and with great difficulty through their own mutations. We'd probably still have been extremely poorly developed beings if useful mutations hadn't begun to be combined. So the descendants of more successful organisms began to join the best characteristics of their ancestors, which, in turn, dictated the development of an entirely new mental logic. These circumstances created Emotion. His key role was to seek the most perfect and well adapted representatives of the same species and combine genes with theirs. Until this very day, Emotion's remained a sociable seeker of perfection, harmony, and beauty, who's not afraid of anything and who has a strong urge for discovering new things."

"This explains why he speaks in pictures and coordinates our movements," said Eros.

"The new combination of two minds worked out well and for the next few million years organisms developed at a dizzying speed. Soon many species adapted to their natural environment to perfection and the struggle for food and territory began. This rapid development also resulted in increasingly greater differentiation and led to a struggle among the species, which is still going on today. Many species formed alliances, but for the majority this led to competition between the predators and their prey. This dictated a new way of thinking that would make it possible to plan and anticipate, to comprehend time and space, to know how to set goals and shape strategies, to bring together representatives of the same species and assign tasks to them, so that they could work successfully against their enemies. These circumstances also created Reason. This mind has preserved the qualities of a calculating entity that has no conscience. He seeks and anticipates, plans and rewards himself. Every Reason also developed his own language for communication among his own species. My Reason says thank you for your attention!"

"Bravo," said Eros.

"Did the dog explain all of this to you, too?" asked Miles, impressed by Darwin's explanation.

"No, it was a finch in my case," laughed the man, pointing at his forehead. "Our ancestors lived in mild conditions for a long time, in a large forest, where there was plenty of food, and the crowns of the trees offered them a safe haven. But when climate changes occurred, that was the end of this paradise. The forests became sparse and the creeks dried up... Our ancestors could only hold out for a short time without food and water, and even the slightest drop in temperature could be fatal for them. Moreover, they weren't fast or strong, and they didn't have a keen sense of sight, hearing or smell. They weren't able to inflict deadly bites and didn't have horns or sharp claws to protect themselves against the wild beasts. At that time our species was probably teetering on the edge of survival, but fortunately for us Reason suddenly developed. His development was so exceptional that, despite our physical weakness, we soon dominated other species that would have long ago exterminated us in the process of evolution if something hadn't intervened at this point again and again, which doesn't fit into my theory," concluded Mr. Darwin.

"Behind all coincidences there's a plan, and behind all plans there's a coincidence," added Eros.

Veronica looked at the new arrangement of books with satisfaction. The twelve shelves stood like twelve emissaries, proudly holding knowledge and art, words and pictures in their hands. All of the secrets that humankind had ever known were collected in one place. Enraptured, Veronica stood in front of them, believing that now peace and happiness would finally reign on Earth.

Eros also looked at the shelves and saw that the patrons were also accepting the changes with an ever-increasing satisfaction. It's true that it would take some time to get used to them, but there's no system that perfectly suits everyone.

"I've finally achieved perfection... I feel reborn... now every book has its place," exclaimed Veronica.

"Almost every book," said a man with tousled gray hair.

"What do you mean, almost?" Veronica looked at him with surprise.

"What about that white book on your desk?"

"How could I have overlooked it?"

"I myself was convinced over and over again that I was on the trail of a universal formula that would connect all of the dimensions, but it always slipped out of my hands, just because of one single detail," said the man.

"I don't understand. What kind of formula are you looking for?" asked Eros.

"A formula that would account for coincidence!"

"I'm not sure I understand."

Veronica came back holding the white book. She was frowning and her eyes were scanning the book.

"Strange, this book has no author or title."

"But it couldn't have written itself," said Eros.

"Indeed it couldn't."

"Have you read it?"

"No, I haven't."

"I thought you knew all the books in the library."

"I thought the same," said Veronica.

"Albert," said the man, offering Eros his hand.

"Eros, pleased to meet you."

Veronica called for Emma to come and help her. Emma opened the book by coincidence to page forty-seven and read a paragraph aloud.

"How perfect! It's completely clear that Emotion created this."

"I'm probably already too tired from all of this; thanks for the help," said Veronica, placing the book on the fourth shelf.

Soon Rania came by and noticed the white book:

"What's this? This book doesn't belong on this shelf."

"Why not?" asked Veronica in surprise.

Rania opened the book to a random page.

"Just read the first paragraph on page one hundred five and write all of the capital letters in the reverse order. Only Reason's capable of this. I don't understand how you could've put it on this shelf," she said indignantly and moved the book to the first shelf.

"Excuse me... I doubt that it belongs to that shelf," said Iris quietly, placing the book on the seventh shelf in front of everyone.

"Now I've had it! How can you move this book from one shelf to another without even reading it?!" said Veronica angrily, grabbing the book.

Then a young man with longish hair came into the library. He took off his scarf and placed it on Veronica's desk.

"I'm looking for flute music," he said, looking deep into her eyes.

"Second shelf. Nobody please disturb me for a few days," replied Veronica and left with the book.

"Did you see that look?! And what a build," said Emma, swooning and gazing at the young man.

"I'd sure like to see what that virtuoso can do with his flute," said Rania with a mischievous grin.

"And I'd sure like to bite into that firm round... apple! Grr..."

"Iris!! What's with you?!" Emma and Rania said sharply in one voice.

In the meantime Veronica had already settled into the chair at her desk and was so engrossed in reading that she didn't even notice Emma, who silently snuck up behind her and gently wrapped her neck in the scarf that had been lying on the desk.

"Truly unusual," said Albert.

"What?" asked Eros.

"This arrangement of the books!"

"Every change needs time for people to get used to it."

"Haven't you noticed it yourself?"

"What?" said Eros, looking towards the shelves.

"The books on the first shelves are very similar to one another. The same goes for the second three shelves and the third three. But the books on the last three shelves are very different form one another, although even these have something in common."

"What kind of similarities are you getting at?"

"The first three shelves are filled with realistic and pragmatic books. It seems as though their writers have both feet firmly planted on the ground... The second three shelves have books that seem like they're from another world and also that their authors are floating in the air somewhere between heaven and Earth. They're completely different from the books on the next three shelves. Here it seems like the writers are drowning in pessimism, worries, and fears."

"And how do you see the last three shelves?"

"These can't be defined so easily. I can't shake the feeling that each of these books has two authors. Two that, on top of everything, don't agree with each other at all. These are books that contain seething passion."

"What you've said makes complete sense. The first three shelves are dominated by the mind that thinks in the way you first described. The second and third groups of shelves are also dominated by one mind each, and only the fourth group contains three characters with two equal minds each."

"True, true, but what surprises me is that this division completely matches a very old understanding of human characters."

Eros stood in the middle of the square created by the shelves. He scratched his forehead deep in thought and stared at the books.

"Earth, air, water, and fire."

"Maybe we're on the track of some long forgotten truth," said Albert.

"I'd like to know a little more about this detail that prevents you from creating your formula."

"I know what's bothering you. I've also been looking for answers all my life and I've turned the world upside down doing so. And in the end I discovered something that turned me upside down... I once said that He doesn't gamble..."

"... and nonetheless, behind all coincidences there's a plan, and behind all plans there's a coincidence," Eros continued.

"That's right," said Albert. "Only we can't know for sure what's right and what isn't if there's also a coincidence behind the plan!"

"It's often the case in life that we treat others the way we would like them to treat us if we were in their shoes."

"You're talking about a perfect world, Eros."

Veronica put the white book on the tenth shelf, placed her hands on her hips, and looked at it without moving an inch as though she'd seen a ghost.

"Maybe coincidence is the sixth dimension," said Eros.

"... and sense the seventh," added Albert.

"That would mean that your formula's solved!"

"So we've got the answer at our fingertips," smiled Albert.

Veronica took the book from the shelf again and went back to her desk.

"This makes everything make sense," said Eros.

"Yes, there can be no sense without a coincidence!"

"Have we transcended the boundary of the human mind?" asked Eros.

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed that we're completely alone now?"

Albert looked around the library with amazement, noticing that there wasn't a living soul anywhere.

"Where did they all go?"

"They didn't go anywhere!" smiled Eros.

They looked at each other.

"We'll take this secret to the grave, won't we?" asked Albert.

"What secret?" said Eros with surprise.

"I like your sense of humor."

"And I like people that smile. It was an honor to meet you."

Veronica was walking from shelf to shelf holding the book, absorbed in thought.

"Very interesting, very interesting," she murmured contemplatively.

"What's so interesting?" asked Eros with surprise.

"I've read this book twelve times and each time I understood it differently and each time I put it on a different shelf."

"And now you all know which one's the right one?"

"I'm still not sure."

"So read it a thirteenth time," suggested Eros.

"That's exactly what I plan to do," she said and went back to her desk.

Eros walked among the book shelves, running his fingers along the books, until he stopped at the mirror. He took it from the shelf and looked into it. All of the shelves still looked empty in it. Then he noticed the desk between the shelves where the white book was in the mirror.

Veronica had sunk down into her armchair and was asleep. Eros quietly walked over to her, so as not to wake her up, noticing the bliss on her face. He looked at the sentence written on the open page: "The key to love is now in your hands."

He carefully pulled the book out from under Veronica's hand and read the line on the last page. He recognized the author and smiled. Then he immersed himself in reading, but already by the seventh page, his thoughts had also drifted off into sleep. Now he saw the white book in his dreams.

Eros opened his eyes and saw hell before him. All of the tables were overturned, the chairs were broken, and the shelves smashed to smithereens. All of the books had disappeared from the library. A harsh light was beating through the windows and tongues of flame were leaping towards the sky from the courtyard. Eros rushed to a shattered window and saw a mountain of books being devoured by the flames. Their covers were twisting from the heat and their pages smoldered until they broke away in small black flakes and were carried away high into the air.

Eros couldn't believe his eyes. He dashed towards the door and joined the crowd in the courtyard staring motionlessly at the pyre. He hoped he was dreaming and so he bit his finger, but he felt it... in his chest.

He stood and watched helplessly as the priceless collection disappeared in the fire. He wanted to wrest at least a few books from the flames, but the heat was so unbearable that he couldn't even approach the pile. He covered his face with his hand and took a few steps back.

"He's to blame for everything! How do we support ourselves now?" said the young businessman, pointing at Eros.

But his words also disappeared in the flames.

Eros found Veronica in the crowd. Her face and hands were black with soot and her clothes were also black and singed. She was holding a book in her arms, clutching it to her body like a mother clinging to her child, not wanting to let it go for anything in the world.

"Veronica?" said Eros in shock.

"That wasn't my world, but I believed in it, fool that I was. If only I had known before how wonderful my real world is!"

Eros noticed Albert grinning in the crowd, sticking his tongue out. It was only then that he noticed that all of the people around the fire were holding books. Each of them had saved their own truth. And centuries of lies were burning in the middle of the courtyard.

"I've never been so happy in my life," said Veronica, with the fire gleaming in her eyes.

Eros noticed a young man next to her, hugging her tight; then the young man picked up his flute and played so touchingly that many people's eyes grew moist. Rania, Emma, and Iris were standing behind them, holding each other's hands and dancing in a happy circle.

Eros felt a sharp pain on the bottom of his foot. He lifted it and pulled out a shiny piece of metal shaped like a small star with a tiny engraving. He knew where the little star had fallen from. Veronica looked at him and raised the white book, now black on one side, high into the air so that everyone could see it.

"This isn't a book, it's the key to love!"

"Share it with others," Eros told her.

***

Kept in Eros' hands, the book concealed the view of the mirror so that the sun, which was winking from between the spruce branches, couldn't be seen in it. The wide river lazily flowed along its way, washing the roots along the banks. Fledglings left their nest, which now lingered alone in the hollow of the tree as if hoping that they'd return one day. Only the loud pecking of a woodpecker echoed among the trees, disturbing the peace in the forest.

Eros gazed into the green water of the pool and set the book and mirror on a rock. He carefully took a few steps and, when the water came up to his knees, washed his face. Then he strode into the water up to his waist and then dived in completely, so that the chill drove the blood through his veins and inspired him to swim. The pool of the stream that flowed into the river was too narrow to be able to do more than a dozen strokes, so he set out toward the river channel. His enjoyment was indescribable and soon he felt that his arms had the power to easily fight this great river. He swam against the current, as though he were competing with nature, and then he turned around and chased the waves that were bouncing off the banks.

A mother duck that had come to the water with her young spent some time watching what was going on, but decided that she preferred to stay in the haven of the reeds.

Eros decided that he would swim across the river, and so he set out swimming somewhat against the current. Soon he had swum to the middle of the channel, where the current was much stronger, and he didn't even notice when the river began to take him with it. In order to reach his goal, he had to swim even more against the current. Soon he realized that he was swimming with all his might, but still not moving from his place. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, but the current swept him downriver, some trees farther along.

Eros swam towards the bank with determination, but the river was now much stronger than he was and carried him along in its current, paying no attention to his plan. He took hold of a large log that floated by, but this too was caught up in the river's flow, so he was unable to reach the bank with it. He watched the banks and trees rush past him ... as though they were late for work. He swam helplessly with the current for a while, and then the river widened and gradually calmed, as though it were opening its arms, and Eros was able to swim to the bank. Exhausted, he sat on the sandy ground and only then began to feel the burning pain in his muscles.

In the inlet where the river had released him, he spotted a shovel leaning against some sandbags. There were tire tracks from cars on the ground. He followed them and came to a road that led toward a plateau, and not far from the water he came to a building site.

Bricks, boards, and bags of cement were scattered around on the ground. Nearby there was a cement mixer, and a bucket in which there was a masonry trowel and some other tools. The building site was muddy and dusty, and in the middle of it proudly rose the ground floor of a new house. Instead of doors and windows, openings yawned in the walls, but passersby could quickly see that someone was lovingly building their home here.

"Are you looking for someone?" asked a runner in a sweaty T-shirt and tight-fitting pants, as he ran past Eros.
"Are you building here?" asked Eros.

"No, my daughter! Ring the bell, she must be around here somewhere," answered the runner, without stopping.

Eros wanted to ring, but instead of a bell by the entrance he only saw two wires sticking out of the wall. Because there was no door, he went inside and, when his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he looked around the room a bit.

The window openings were small, but still large enough that through them he could see the runner going past the house again, running in the same direction.

"Turn around, turn around ... wait! I told you, wait! ... A bit back!" directed a voice in the neighboring room.

Eros saw a worker standing with his hands on his hips before an old television, watching the snow on the screen.

"Looks like there'll be a storm ... I just can't get a picture."

"Does anyone still use an antenna these days?" asked Eros, astounded.

"Did you come for the telephone hookup?"

"No, I'm Eros. The river brought me."

Down the steps came a young man, who was so tall and thin that at first Eros thought that the antenna had come down from the upper floor.

He looked at Eros with surprise and said:

"I didn't know you had a visitor. Is this gentleman from the telephone company?"

"No, the river brought him," answered George, who introduced them. "This is Tin ... Eros!"

"If you used optical cable or a satellite receiver, the picture wouldn't depend so much on the weather and you'd also be able to watch a lot more channels from all around the world," said Eros.

"Tin, write down what the gentleman said, and bring one optical cable and one satellite from town," directed George.

"That'll be difficult. The cable has to be installed by the company that manages the distribution system," explained Eros.

"So it's like with the telephone?" asked George. "Tin, then tomorrow in town ask them to install an optical cable along with the telephone."

"Haven't Caira and Rem returned yet?" asked Tin, worried.

"They went to have lunch with Mom at two o'clock, which means they'll be there chatting until at least four," said George.

"Ask the gentleman if he knows anything about insulation," Tin remembered.

"Go ahead and ask him yourself, if the cat hasn't got your tongue," replied George, turning off the TV, which was still showing static.

"The house is close to the river, and so we're concerned that the walls will be damp. They brought us this tar and ..."

"I'll help," said the runner, joining the conversation from the door. "I've got time anyway, so we can coat the outer walls together and then tomorrow we can apply the bitumen tape with the blowtorch."

"So let's get to work! I'm Eros."

"I'm Caira's father," answered the man, who was just starting to go gray at the temples. His eyes revealed great decisiveness and an unstoppable will. He was one of those men young women like to look at.

All four crawled into the trench along the wall and began working on the basement walls with large brushes.

"How could you start painting without me?"

From the trench Eros spied a girl who was exactly the age at which a person wouldn't be able to say whether she was a large child or already a small woman. Her hair was as black as tar and her eyes strongly resembled her father's.

"Well, we're not painting yet, this is just a sealant," answered Dad.

"But I want to do that myself too, because this is my house after all," answered the girl.

"This is dirty work, Caira! While we're spending our time here working on the basement walls, you can take care of something really important, like changing the light bulb above the entrance," suggested Dad.

"Well, OK. Where are they?"

"Ask Mom."

After a while the girl returned with the light bulb. Only then did she notice Eros in the trench, as he applied the tar to the walls of her house.

"I'm Caira, I guess Dad hired you for help?"

"I'm Eros—actually, the river brought me."

"Oh, if it's like that, you can stay," smiled the girl, placing a ladder in front of the entrance.

She screwed in the new bulb, and when it lit up above her head it illuminated her. The next instant she was by her father in the trench, pulling the brush out of his hand.

"This can't be that hard!"

Dad silently watched as his daughter applied the tar with her dainty girlish hands.

"Use a little less, so it doesn't drip like that," he suggested, but Caira couldn't be bothered.

She worked tirelessly, at first a bit clumsily, but soon her work looked no different from her father's.

The peace and quiet prompted her mother to come and have a look, along with Zara, Caira's younger sister.

Mom was still young and two babies hadn't left a trace on her slim figure. She was so tall and slender that her figure was envied by beauties far and wide. Her straight, light hair fell to her neck and emphasized her high cheekbones, which were similar to Caira's.

When Zara caught sight of Eros, she hid behind her mother's skirt. Not because she was afraid of strangers, but because she liked him.

"Did you apply for a building permit for balconies?" asked Mom.

"What balconies?" asked Caira with surprise.

"How do you think the boys will notice you without any balconies?"

"I'll submit the application tomorrow," answered Caira, crawling out of the trench.

Blackened from head to toe, she surveyed her work with satisfaction.

Dad had gone for his camera and he took her picture showing how proud she was, black all over, standing on a pile of dirt next to her new house. After that he spent the rest of the evening describing how his daughter had coated the house's foundation, and in the middle of the table he placed the enlarged photograph, which he also framed, so that she'd be able to hang it in her new home.

Caira was pleasantly tired and soon fell asleep cuddled up with her stuffed bear, Teddy.

The next day she got up bright and early and went to town to the Building Permit Office. Despite the early hour, there was a long line of young women in front of the Office, as though it were distributing hotcakes instead of permits to build balconies. She sat in the waiting room and looked at the door at the end of the hallway, which read: HAVE YOUR GENETIC CERTIFICATE READY.

"What genetic certificate?" Caira wondered.

"Didn't your parents give you a certificate to bring along?" a redheaded girl with a freckled nose asked her.

"I don't know anything about that," answered Caira.

"Like at all Offices, here it also all depends on what kind of connections your parents have."

"So what depends on my parents?"

"First whether you'll get the permit at all, and then what size balconies you'll be allowed to build," explained the redhead.

"And what if they don't give me a permit at all?"

"Well, then you could always build it illegally. These days anything can be done for a few thousand. They say all the movie divas have balconies without work permits, illegally built. But stars can afford that!"

"Really?! I had no idea balconies were such a big deal."

"Believe me, the whole world revolves around balconies! Just having a nice house and also a tidy attic isn't that important at all. If your house has pretty balconies, your life will be a bed of roses," explained the redhead.

Only now did Caira start to really get worried, because she didn't know when or what kind of balconies they'd approve for her, or whether she'd even be allowed to build any. She returned home depressed. She'd found out that a special committee would consider her application at some later date, and until then she'd worry about the appearance of her house.

"How'd it go?" asked Caira's mother, waiting at the door.

"I waited the whole day and accomplished nothing. I only got to turn in my application."

"I'll never forget how impatiently I waited for my permit when I was your age," said Mom.

"And when did you get it?"

"Only when I was sixteen, and it was for structures barely worth mentioning, at that."

"Why didn't you build illegally then?"

"Where'd you get that idea? That's very dangerous. What do you think, so many have already died or have lifelong problems because charlatans made their illegal balconies and they fell off them. The Office is the Office and they already know why some girls are allowed one kind and others different kinds of balconies," said Mom, annoyed.

Eros stepped on the threshold and saw Caira sitting sadly on a pile of boards, staring at her unfinished house.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"I want to finish my house and live in it on my own. But now I have to wait for the permit for those damned balconies."

"And in the end we'll be lucky if we even get it," added Tin from the window opening.

"You're really both fools! How can you fall for all this silliness about balconies? How can it suddenly be so important what kind of balconies your house has? The only important thing is that you're satisfied with it, even if it has no balconies at all! All you need is a good foundation and yours is protected. Balconies are useless things anyway, meant only for the passersby to admire. Who cares what others think of your house?"

"Eros is exactly right, everyone should tend their own gardens," commented George.

"If the Office happens to send us a permit for big balconies tomorrow, we'll just let them know that we've changed our minds," said Rem, and everyone laughed.

"How old are you, Caira?" asked Eros.

"She'll be thirteen the day after tomorrow," answered George.

"Just thirteen?" Eros was surprised.

"Come to think of it, we nearly forgot about your birthday! We could throw a big party with a cake and balloons. We could invite a lot of friends," it occurred to Rem.

"This year I could invite my friends to my new house already, even though it isn't finished yet," suggested Caira.

"Great idea," answered Rem.

"Only ... if they don't turn everything upside down!" spoke up Tin.

The sky was thick with stars and the night was warm. Eros, Caira, and her builders spent a long time discussing the big birthday party.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" asked Dad, suddenly appearing out of the darkness.

"Of course not, we're talking about my birthday party. The day after tomorrow I'll hold it at my place for the first time," said Caira.

"Well, OK, just make sure the party doesn't go any later than ten o'clock. But now lights out and good night," answered Dad, kissing Caira on the cheek and departing.

Caira adored her father immensely, but this time she mulled over what he'd said. It didn't seem right to her that he'd set the time for her birthday party just like that, even though it would be celebrated at her place and with her guests. He could've at least asked if the party would be over by ten o'clock, instead of just telling her that was the way it would be.

Every year Caira celebrated her birthday with her friends, and every year the party ended at ten o'clock. But then everything took place under her parents' roof. How many times had she heard Dad say "As long as you're living under our roof, you have to follow our rules" This time, though, she'd be celebrating under her own roof.

Then she fell asleep.

The next day everything revolved around party preparations. Rem decorated the yard with paper lanterns, blew up balloons, and set up a big table behind the house. George and Caira wrote invitations and made a shopping list, while Eros prepared the paper plates and cups.

In the afternoon a man with a toolbox showed up:

"I'm from the cable company. I've come to set up the optical cable."

"Perfect, it's my birthday tomorrow," answered Caira, signing the form.

Then she showed the workman the living room and TV and the place where the socket for the antenna should be.

In the evening everything was ready for the next day and Caira ceremonially turned on the TV. The picture was perfectly clear and everyone was amazed.

George flipped through the channels, of which there seemed to be no end. For the first time Caira saw places that were farther away than the nearby city and people from all over the world. She heard their strange languages, and wondered at their clothing. She saw concerts by the stars and performances by dancers that leaped beneath the colorful stage lights.

Soon Zara joined them at the TV and clapped with excitement; once in a while she also smiled ingratiatingly at Eros.

Dad noticed that it was unusually quiet at home and, when he saw that Zara was also not there, he went over to Caira's building site. He found the cheerful group in front of the TV.

"It's ten-thirty! Everyone who hasn't brushed their teeth yet: quick, to the bathroom, everyone else go to bed," he ordered, turning off the TV.

"But Daddy, this is my house, after all, I make the rules here," protested Caira.

"That's not a rule, that's order! Who's going to get up and go to school in the morning in your place?"

"Well, I've already got most of my final grades and it'll be summer vacation soon, plus tomorrow's my birthday."

"Well, then ask Mom what she thinks of that. If she doesn't have anything against it, you can watch TV until midnight," answered Dad, who knew that Mom would also send her straight to bed because the two of them agreed on this.

Caira got up and asked George to go with her to Mom. Together they went across the yard to the neighboring house.

Mom was already in bed, reading a book that Dad had found that day along with a mirror when he was running through the forest.

"Daddy says that we can watch TV until midnight if you have nothing against it," began Caira diplomatically from the bedroom door.

"What did Daddy say?"

"That we can watch TV until midnight if you have nothing against it because it's already almost summer vacation and tomorrow's my birthday," said Caira.

"Well, if that's what he says, I don't know why you're asking me too," answered Mom, diving back into the book.

Caira returned to her house and triumphantly turned on the TV.

"Now, what's all this about?" asked Dad, surprised.

"You said that we could watch TV until midnight if Mom had nothing against it!"

"Yes, well?"

"Mom didn't say that she had anything against it and she was even surprised that I asked, once I reminded her that it's already almost summer vacation and that tomorrow's my birthday," answered Caira, changing the channel.

By the time Dad and Mom had straightened out who had said what and who hadn't, everyone in Caira's house was already sound asleep in front of the glowing TV. Dad carried both girls to bed and turned out the lights.

The next day was nice and clear. Caira's friends in their colorful clothes came to the party one after another, admiring her house. Caira took each one individually by the hand from room to room, describing her plans for furnishing it. Some of them envied her a bit, but they didn't show it; others spent the whole time talking about their houses, greatly exaggerating their descriptions of them, so that Caira soon felt that hers was really nothing special.

Eros brought a big box with a red ribbon. Caira could hardly wait to see what was in it. When she opened it she saw a wonderful new giant-screen TV. She loved it and, even though the others also brought a lot of nice gifts, Eros' gesture was really something special to her.

Meanwhile outdoors had turned into a real hullabaloo. The girls danced, squealed, picked flowers, and, when one of them brought a box of paints from somewhere, they started to scribble and paint on the walls of Caira's unfinished house. Tin clutched at his head, but when he wanted to take the brush out of the hand of the girl with the pink bow, the girls painted him too. He was terrified and looked like a colorful butterfly, so that when Caira noticed him at the door she at first thought that someone had brought a clown to the party.

George stood at the entrance to the house and directed the girls back into the yard because he didn't want them to scribble all over the interior walls too, or destroy the modest furnishings that were already in the house.

Only Rem had a great time, dancing with the girls until his feet hurt.

Caira watched her party helplessly, missing the good old days, when Dad and Mom had taken care of everything and she herself had also celebrated with her guests, carefree. Now she had to spend all her time taking care of juice and cups, or food, plates, and silverware. Somebody was always needing something, and she felt like a waitress in a restaurant full of arrogant guests.

"How come they still haven't approved your balconies? I got the permits for mine six months ago already, and they're almost finished," said a heavy-set girl with an upturned nose and greasy hair. The steel wire that was straightening her teeth gleamed from her mouth.

Eros looked at Caira. He fervently hoped that she would tell the girl what she really thought about her balconies, but she just bowed her head silently.

"I'm surprised that at the Office they didn't see the mistakes in your plans and that later you had to add so much support so that they wouldn't hang off the house sideways anymore," said Eros.

The girl angrily muttered some incomprehensible words and went off for another piece of cake.

George started chortling, and Eros noticed a tiny smile on Caira's face as well.

"Would you two like some cake?" she asked.

"Gladly," said both at the same time.

Caira cut a big piece for each one. Then they were also joined by Tin, who was still all yellow on the face and hands from the paint. They sat on the doorstep together and watched Rem having fun with the out-of-control girls.

"I'm sorry you didn't ask me who to invite and who not to. Last week they also messed up my house and garden," said a girl with a big raspberry stain on her shirt.

"Ah, we'll clean it up," answered Caira.

"Today they're here for the last time," said Tin, who was still out of sorts because of the paint.

"My friends and I started a small dance group ... if you like, you could join us."

Caira was surprised and flattered:

"I'd be happy to join you. When do you get together?"

"Twice a week at the dance school, and we practice every day before performances."

"Do you perform too?"

"Of course, that's the best part of being together. A lot of boys notice us too!"

Caira liked this suggestion and already imagined herself dancing with the group, just like she'd seen on TV. Then a perplexing thing happened. Something that changed Caira's peaceful life in an instant.

The girl with the upturned nose and greasy hair turned down the music and climbed onto the table. Then she started to shriek with laughter, pointing to the other side of the yard:

"But Caira's house is the same as her father's!"

The guests were astounded and some of them curiously ran over to the fence.

"Look at the ground floor ... it's exactly the same. These are cookie-cutter houses," shrieked the girl, giggling madly like a goat pissing on a sheet of tin.

Caira was speechless. She stood by the fence and looked toward Dad's house. Soon she was also joined by Eros, George, and Tin. Dad's house stood close to hers. It was attractive, well-built, and certainly not pretentious. It had large windows, yellow plaster, and a very unusual domed copper roof, at the top of which there was a small sun. There was a wrought-iron fence around the house and you could see a yard through it that wasn't very big, but very tidy. Right next to it stood a tower, slender and tall, built of stone. The tower had no windows, but at the top there were two attractive chiseled stone balconies, from which clusters of white flowers hung. At the top of the slate roof in place of a copper point there was a candy cane.

Eros looked at this unusual building and determined that the tower was probably Mom's house and that the other part was Dad's. The layout of the ground floor of Dad's house was very similar to Caira's building, just that Dad's windows were much bigger. You could easily see the tastefully decorated interior through them.

Through the window of her room, Zara noticed that her sister's friends were staring at their house. Surprised, she came out of the house and saw her sister standing by the fence, ashamed, while the girl with the greasy hair mocked her from the table.

"Take yourself home and leave my sister alone," said Zara, looking threateningly at the girl, who took no notice of her. She just kept shrieking with laughter, insulting Caira.

Now Zara had had enough. She took a big broom and dipped it into the tar that was left over from coating the basement walls. Although she was much younger and smaller, she smacked the girl in the rear end with all her might, so that she lost her balance and fell off the table.

"How dare you ... ?!"

The girl didn't manage to finish her sentence before Zara smacked her again, but this time in the head, so that the tar was smeared in her greasy hair. The girl screamed in horror and, if she hadn't run out of the yard on all fours, Zara would have hit her yet again.

"Get lost, you bitch!" shouted Zara after her.

Now Mom noticed the unusual commotion at Caira's house. When she saw Zara hefting the broom covered in tar, she thought everything was Zara's fault, so she quickly called her home. Soon the other friends left too. Only Dot, Caira's best friend, remained.

Silence reigned over the yard.

"How is that possible?" wondered Caira, as tears came to her eyes.

"That witch got what she deserved," answered Tin.

"Not that ... about the building," said Caira.

"But it's lovely. Who wouldn't want one like this?!" responded Eros.

"You really don't understand, do you? Now the whole world will laugh at me!"

"I don't understand ... I thought you were building a house for yourself, not a hotel for others!"

"But all the others have dream houses, and only I, fool that I am, will have one like my father's, and in it I'll always be his little kid."

"What if we build a tall fence or wall around our yard, so that not everyone going by could see the house," suggested Tin.

"Nooo, no walls! We won't have any company if we're shut up like in the zoo," protested Rem.

"You be quiet now! When the girls were tearing the place up, you were the top dog among them. And you're always hanging out with Dad. Maybe it's all your fault that we have the same house as he does," answered George.

"All children build their houses according to their parents' examples, at least at first," said Eros.

"That's not true—then why do other girls have such pretty mansions and palaces? You just want to comfort me! My house is horrible, a regular henhouse," concluded Caira with disgust.

"And how many henhouses—I meant to say, how many other houses—have you seen?" asked Eros.

"None, but they're sure to be lovely compared to this chicken coop," answered Caira.

"Compared to yours my house is like a slightly larger cardboard box," answered her friend Dot.

"Thanks," said Caira with a faint smile.

"Would you like to sleep in a giant, dark hall?" asked Eros.

"No."

"Do you want to have so many rooms that everyone'd get lost in your house?" continued Eros.

"Of course not."

"Do you maybe want to have such high ceilings that cobwebs would collect under them because you couldn't reach them with a dust broom?"

"Horrible," answered Caira.

"Well, see, your house is exactly the kind you want," answered Eros.

"But it isn't! I don't want a house that looks like my father's house. I want a house that all my friends will admire. We're going to tear this one down completely," said Caira.

"Oh, don't do that, we'll be homeless then," spoke up Tin, terrified.

"Bring me the plans," said Caira.

"What kind of plans?" wondered George.

"Not for Cinderella's pumpkin! For the house we're building, of course," answered Caira.

"But we don't have any plans," responded George.

"How can we not have plans? We can't build a house without plans, can we!?"

"You said that we'd build, and so we started building. But none of us is a trained builder," said George.

"Then how did you even manage to build the ground floor?"

"Simple, everyone who passed by gave us some kind of advice," explained George.

"And because my dad was always around, now our house is the same as his!"

"But you seemed to be satisfied, at least until today," said George, shrugging his shoulders.

"We desperately need a door with a lock and windows with curtains," Tin spoke up.

"But we don't even have a roof yet. First we have to finish the house, and then we can put in the windows and doors," answered George.

"As far as the roof's concerned ... Don't you even think about using an oval shape!" Caira put her foot down.

"But I like it," said Rem.

"Be quiet, you traitor," said Tin.

"And what's that?" wondered George, pointing to the giant-screen TV.

"Eros gave that to me ... quick, let's plug it in and look at what kinds of houses they build in other places," suggested Caira.

George took the old TV off of the table and set up the new one. When the picture displayed on it, all of them held their breath.

"It's as if those people were here in the room with us," sighed Caira.

"Or we were with them," added Rem.

Dad came into the room.

"Good evening, is the birthday girl home?"

"Isn't it good manners to knock on the door before you go into the house?" answered Caira coldly.

"That's true, but you've overlooked a small detail," answered Dad.

"What's that?"

"You don't have a door."

"Well, tomorrow I'll have one!"

Dad didn't understand why Caira was in such a bad mood, so he took two steps back and said:

"Knock knock. Is my little dolly at home?"

"I think you've made a mistake, sir. You'll find dollies with Zara," said Caira.

"Daddy brought you a present," said Rem, hoping that Caira wouldn't keep up this unfriendly tone.

"Don't you want to know what Mom and I bought you?"

"Put it on the table, I'll look at it later," answered Caira.

Nothing was clear to Dad anymore. He wasn't accustomed to his daughter talking with him as though he'd done something bad. But he was a very understanding person and he'd learned how to handle touchy people with kid gloves at work.

"OK, it'll be waiting for you here on the table," he said, and left.

"That wasn't good etiquette," commented Rem.

"Nobody asked you anything," returned Caira, whose conscience was really tingling now because Dad, whom she admired so greatly, really hadn't deserved that kind of reception.

"One gift really won't make up for the fact that now we've got the same house as him," said George.

"That's not fair because it wasn't him who built according to your pattern, but the other way around," answered Eros.

Caira stood up and opened the letter her father had brought:

Dear Caira, as a gift for your thirteenth birthday we're going to spend the weekend in the mountains. We'll climb a huge rock wall using ropes and pitons. Wishing you a wonderful birthday, Dad and Mom.

"See, look how well they know you! You got what you wanted most, and look how you talk to your father," said Rem, annoyed.

"That's the last thing she wanted! Rock-climbing is dangerous and she could slip," said Tin with concern.

"But she'll be protected with ropes and pitons," said George in an attempt to soothe him.

"What if the piton falls out or the rope breaks?" asked Tin.

Caira was overcome by her guilty conscience. She went to her parents and thanked them for their gift.

"And how was your party?" asked Mom.

"Oh, the house looks like it was hit by lightning, and the other girls have already received permits for their balconies—only I still have to wait," lamented Caira.

"Tomorrow Mom and I will help you tidy up," offered Dad.

"You don't have to. We'll manage."

"Did you finish so early because of Zara?" asked Mom.

"No, I have her to thank for saving my skin."

"Before you invite her over again, let me know so I can prepare gasoline and matches," piped up Zara from the easy chair.

"Zara! Watch your mouth!" Dad warned her.

"I think she's watching too much television," said Mom with concern.

"Well, I wasn't being serious, I wouldn't really need gasoline ..."

"Certainly not," said Mom.

"... if you'd buy me a gun!" added Zara.

Dad gave her a stern look, but the smile on her rosy cheeks disarmed him quickly.

"Michaela invited me to join her dance group ... They get together twice a week. Can I go?"

"Of course, the socializing and exercise will be good for you," answered Mom.

Caira hugged her mother and then her father too.

The whole family set out for the mountains that weekend. Caira used ropes and pitons to climb a huge wall, and Rem was flushed with pride. Dad watched her and was even a bit surprised at how well she did. She was fast and strong, and she conquered obstacles with unusual skill.

Mom held the rope at the foot of the wall, guarding her in case she slipped. Zara was too small to be allowed on the wall. She received a new schoolbag in compensation, a black one with white polka dots. She was so excited about it that she carried it everywhere with her, even though it was intended for the new school year.

That very evening Caira hung a new photo up in her house. She proudly marveled at how fearlessly she'd conquered the nearly vertical wall.

The vacation went by quickly.

At the classroom door Caira had a strange feeling. She walked in and felt the gazes of her classmates upon her. It seemed to her that all of them had been talking about her house, and that now they'd fallen silent. She sat quietly at her desk and looked out the window. She hated this feeling, she hated school, and she hated her house. She'd rather have stayed at home, in bed, and slept until lunch or even all the way to the next day.

The teacher noticed that Caira's thoughts were elsewhere, so she called her to the board:

"Caira, can you tell us something about circular sectors?"

Caira couldn't believe her ears. So now even the teacher was making fun of her? Had the whole world turned against her? How could she humiliate her like this in front of everyone?

"Well, Caira?"

"The roof of my father's house is a circular sector whose size isn't much different from the circular sectors of your behind," answered Caira.

The whole class burst out laughing, but the teacher blanched.

"Tell your father to come see me tomorrow," she commanded, writing an F in her grade book.

Caira returned to her seat. She didn't care about the furious teacher or about the F in the grade book. After all, the world revolves around balconies, not grades.

During the break she withdrew to a corner of the schoolyard, deep in thought, but Zara noticed her there. As always, her sister was happy to see her, and came over to give her a hug.

"Get away from me!" said Caira.

At first Zara thought she hadn't heard correctly, so she opened her arms to pull Caira close.

"Zara, please, go away! You still live in Daddy's house, and I don't want everyone to connect me to it," said Caira in a somewhat quieter, but still sharp voice.

"How can you treat me like that—shame on you," answered Zara, spitting in her sister's face. Then she ran into the school building.

Eros was standing in front of the house when the mailman came by on his bike.

"Hello, hello, is Miss Caira at home?"

"No, not at the moment."

"Will you take this so I don't have to bring it again?"

Eros signed for the letter, took it, and went into the house. On the back side it read: Building Permit Office.

"Let's open it!" said Rem, as soon as he saw the envelope.

"It's not addressed to us," answered Eros.

"What do you mean it isn't, we live here after all."

"It says 'Caira,' not 'Rem,'" said Eros, refusing to budge.

"What if we looked at it and then sealed it up again," suggested Tin, holding the letter up to the light to see if he could read anything.

"I don't understand how you can be so nosy! It's just a letter from the Building Permit Office ... It's just going to say when and what kind of balconies we can build."

"But that's really important," said George.

"Important? But why? Because that redhead at the Office said so?" said Eros with astonishment.

"Mom mentioned that it was important several times too," answered Tin.

"Mom was only wondering if she'd already received the permit."

"So it is important!" said George.

"What are you arguing about?" asked Caira, approaching them.

George, Rem, and Tin froze in place, looking at her.

"A letter came," Tin finally answered.

"What kind of letter?"

"From the Building Permit Office," explained George.

"And what does it say?"

"Eros wouldn't let us open it," said Tin.

"It probably seemed too important to him," said George.

"I still don't think it's all that important at all ... The three of you are the ones making a big deal over this letter," objected Eros.

Caira opened the envelope and read the letter.

"What does it say?" asked George.

"It's none of your business" answered Eros.

"I don't understand ... here they included a plan and drew all the dimensions ..."

"Show us," said George.

"Thirty-four B?! Is that big or small?" wondered Caira.

"Big enough that it'll entirely shade the entrance and you won't be able to grow flowers in front of the house anymore," spoke up Eros.

"Let's start building right away!"

Mom was the first to notice that something was going on at Caira's, and she rushed over to the house. "Did you get it?"

"I did, although I don't know if it's enough," returned Caira with embarrassment.

"Show me," said Mom, looking over the plans with the eyes of a pro.

"What do you think?" asked Caira impatiently.

"That's more than outstanding! ... If I'd received this kind of permit at your age, I would've been overjoyed. But I had to wait until I gave birth to you."

"See how important it is," George chided Eros, who just rolled his eyes.

"But what if Mom's being excited like that just in order to protect us from disappointment because we don't have any experience and we don't know what's enough and what isn't," said Tin, thinking aloud.

Mom ran back home and told Dad the good news. They quickly returned.

"So you finally got it," said Dad enthusiastically, feeling both proud and a little sad, because he knew that Caira would never be his little girl again.

"Why are you making such a big fuss over two balconies?" asked Caira.

"Because we're happy for you," answered Dad.

"See! It's very important," said George, pointing his finger at Eros to chide him.

"Now my house won't look the same as yours, at least as far as balconies are concerned," said Caira.

"But I have two balconies too," Dad defended himself.

"Those aren't balconies, they're French windows," Mom corrected him.

"But I do have a big patio, which is something neither of you has," answered Dad, putting his arms around Mom.

"And I enjoy sitting there in the evenings," returned Mom with a smile, gazing into Dad's black eyes.

"Ugh, I'm about to throw up—go home already, you two," said Caira with annoyance, making a face. Mom and Dad smiled and left.

"If the contract to buy your lot hadn't been signed in my patio, you wouldn't have a house at all," called Dad from the door.

"I don't want to hear any more," said Caira, plugging her ears with her fingers.

Soon Caira's house had nice round balconies, which proudly gazed out onto the street from the upper story. Passersby looked at the house with surprise because the balconies really had changed its appearance so much that they no longer recognized it. Of course, this was also because the house had gained yet another floor seemingly overnight.

Dad noticed that people were curiously looking over Caira's fence, and this bothered him a bit, especially when the looker was some good-for-nothing of the male variety.

"I brought you potted flowers for your new balconies," said Mom.

Caira was very happy to receive the flowers because up until now she hadn't had any place to put them.

"Flowers emphasize the balconies and are the crowning touch."

"Did you hear? Flowers make balconies look fuller, and that's really, really important," George teased Eros.

Caira immediately put the pots on the balconies. While she was admiring her new acquisition, she spotted her father as he ran by the house. He also liked flowers ... but only on Mom's balconies. Hers were turned toward his house. But with Caira he had the impression that balconies with flowers overlooking the street would be even more attractive to passersby.

"Don't you think Daddy runs around the house an awful lot?" said Tin.

"You think?" wondered Caira.

"Look, he used to run in the woods, but now he's always running circles around our house," answered Tin.

"Well, he always ran around the house," Rem spoke up.

Caira looked through the balcony railing and saw him turn off the road toward the woods.

"He really is near us pretty often. But what does he want?" wondered Caira.

"What indeed. To lose weight of course," answered Rem.

"A young guy was standing in front of the house the other day, and Dad didn't even say hello to him," added Tin.

"It's no wonder, a person can't just greet everyone on the street," answered Rem.

"But Daddy really is acting kind of funny," said Caira thoughtfully.

"Hey, come in here, there's a show about houses of the rich and famous on TV," called George from the next room.

Caira marveled at the house of a popular female singer and wanted her house to be equally special one day.

Soon she began to cut out articles from newspapers and magazines with all the details of the singer's house, so she could also remodel hers following the singer's example as much as possible. Caira's house really wasn't as big, and it was still lacking quite a few details, so she began planning changes. George helped her the most with this.

"I don't want anyone to accuse me of having a cookie-cutter house ever in my life," said Caira.

"Well, then let's do everything the opposite of your father's house," suggested George.

"What do you mean?"

"If Dad has a rounded roof, we make ours flat, and if his façade is light yellow, ours should be cold black," explained George.

"What if we cover it with black marble?" suggested Tin.

"Great idea! Instead of a roof we can make a huge terrace on top," said George.

"We could invite guests and have parties up there," said Rem with enthusiasm.

"You and your parties should be quiet already," said Tin, who still couldn't forget how the girls had painted him.

"It really isn't a bad idea, but we'd only invite selected guests. Those that weren't invited would become the lowest nobodies in this world, and that's why everyone would want to be your friend," suggested George.

Caira was excited.

"But what if we aren't able to invite important guests who have their own parties that they don't invite us to?" worried Tin.

"Who wouldn't want to come to our awesome party?" said Rem.

"Tin's right ... We don't have any experience with high-society parties!" answered Caira sadly.

"But we'll get it. What's the problem here?" Rem wasn't giving up.

"Knock, knock," said Dad at the entrance, coming into the house.

"We really need a door," said Tin.

"How's my golden girl?"

"I'd like to ask you to please never call me your golden girl again!"

"Should I ask how my black girl is?" asked Dad, looking at the photo on the wall.

"Don't you have anything else to do? Can't you see we're in the middle of a serious conversation?"

"What're you doing, if I'm allowed to ask?"

"We're planning to build a terrace on the top of the house," explained George.

"A terrace instead of a roof? Where'd you see that?"

"We saw a show on houses of the famous on TV. Everyone in this world has a house that it something special, except for ours, which is completely boring," answered Caira.

"I've watched TV too, but I still want to live in my own house most of all," answered Dad.

"Maybe that's because you only watch one channel, but we can get a few hundred of them," sneered Caira.

"What do you mean, a few hundred?"

"Look," said Caira, turning on the TV.

George flipped through the channels and Dad couldn't believe his eyes. He worried about whether this was the reason for Caira's strange behavior toward him.

"Where did you get that antenna?" he asked after some time.

"We don't have an antenna, just an optical cable," explained George.

Dad was a bit uncomfortable because it had never happened before that Caira had introduced him to some technological innovation. He'd always been the one who'd taught her and explained things to her; things about life and other issues. But now he was standing here like a dummy staring at a TV that received several hundred channels.

"Well, OK, but aren't you afraid that a terrace on top of the house will leak when it rains?"

"Why would it leak if we treat it with tar just like the foundation?"

"But you won't be able to walk on tar. In the summer it'll soften up in the sunshine, and then you'll track it into the house."

"We'll put marble over it," answered George.

"I suggest sleeping on this idea well before you start on such a stupid project," said Dad, leaving.

"Correct me if I didn't hear this right ... Did he say 'stupid project'?" said Caira indignantly.

"Yes, you heard right, he said 'stupid project'! But our greatest stupidity is that we still don't have a door. If we had one, we could lock it, and stupidity wouldn't be able to just walk into our house like that," answered Tin.

"It's a good thing he mentioned rain ... we completely forgot about a downspout! We can run it along the wall," said George.

"We could have one gutter along each side of the house in case there's a big storm," suggested Tin.

"What kind of house will this be if it's covered in marble and then some pipes are splayed across it? It'll look like a big bathroom," scoffed Rem, who went to take a shower.

"We've planned a chimney with quite a few pipes in the middle of the house. One of them could be used for a downspout and nobody would see it. The pipe would only have to be connected to the sewer system in the basement," suggested George.

"I want the terrace to be something special too. Let's cover it with white marble and then set up white seating with white sunshades. We'll roll out a red carpet across the entire terrace, so it'll look like a fashion show runway! What do you think, Eros?" asked Caira, glowing with excitement.

"If I think hard about it, I've never seen that kind of house anywhere."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It can't be better, because the best house is the one that the person living in it likes."

"But I want others to like it too!"

"Only those who lack complete faith in their own houses need the admiration of others because they believe that will help them accept their own houses as well. But others can't judge our houses because in their worlds they're completely different. Because they don't actually see our house, it's only important that you like it yourself. That's the only way to be happy and content."

"But then how can I know whether my house is beautiful?"

"Make it the way you like it, and if you don't like something about it then go ahead and change that. People have different tastes, and what one person likes may not be what someone else likes, so we ourselves are the only proper measure for contentment."

"But my house will be ugly! Should I pretend I like it?"

"Why would you pretend? If you lie to others, you'll only be lying to yourself."

"Then the only thing left to me is to make a house that will be something special!"

"I only know that it can't be the same as that one with the round roof over there on the other side of the lot," said Tin.

"Well, it won't, I'm sure of that!"

"Knock, knock," said a voice at the door.

"I'm not so sure," answered Tin.

Dad was at the door.

"I just got back from work and thought I'd stop by. What're you doing?"

"We were talking about the terrace ... it's really going to be great," explained Rem enthusiastically, putting on a colorful shirt.

"So you're still thinking about that ... The roof's a very important part of the house," answered Dad.

"But not as important as the balconies," whispered George to Eros.

"If you like, I can bring you the plans for my roof. Maybe it'd be useful to have a tried and tested construction!"

"Anything but that," answered Tin.

"Imagine just how beautiful a huge terrace at the top of a black marble house will be. All in white, with a red carpet and white seating," described Caira.

"If you just add a brass band, it'll be like the funeral of an important head of state," smiled Dad.

Caira wasn't amused by his comment.

"You already have a yard and two balconies. Why do you need a terrace?"

"We'll have fashion parties there and everyone will want to come to my place," answered Caira.

"Fashion parties? Did you see those too on one of those channels you can get with your antenna?" wondered Dad.

"Optical cable," corrected George.

"Do you really think that I don't have any good ideas of my own?" said Caira, offended.

"Not at all! You know well how proud I am of you, and how I'd do anything in the world to make you happy," her father defended himself.

"Then let me make a house I like because that's the only way it'll be attractive to others too."

"Where'd you get that piece of wisdom?"

"That's what Eros said."

"Some people are naturally born to expound, especially about things they haven't experienced. Eros ought to make a child or two first and only then philosophize about houses. Life will bring him down to earth," said Dad.

"I didn't know that you had to be crazy in order to recognize a stupid person," smiled George.

"Down to earth? Of course, we can't forget about grounding, a lightning rod," remembered Eros.

"I think the most lightning strikes will come from the neighboring house, not the clouds," added Tin.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to have a nice house, but it also has to be useful. Terraces always leak and the work you did to seal your foundation will be for nothing if water runs along the house from the roof."

"But what if we turned our house into a giant shower stall?" suggested Rem, but nobody was amused.

"Why are you so noisy over there?" called Mom, looking out the window.

"Dad wants to persuade me that I can't build the kind of roof that I want," lamented Caira.

"That's not true, we're just talking about the possible solutions for your roof," said Dad in his defense.

"And what kind of ideas do you have?"

"We want a terrace, but he's offering his plans," answered Caira.

"Didn't we agree that we'd give the children freedom of choice in everything that wouldn't harm them? Let her do what she wants," suggested Mom.

"But if the water runs down her house, it'll also harm her!" Dad wasn't giving up.

"Hello there," called out a nice, gray-haired lady with a charming smile. It was Grandma.

Caira ran to her and hugged her:

"You came at just the right time, Grandma, we're talking about my new roof."

"Maybe Grandma could tell us something about her experience when the house next door was being built," said Eros.

"Oh, I remember everything as though it were yesterday. He was stubborn and wanted to have it his way no matter what," smiled Grandma.

"And? Did he succeed?" asked Caira.

"Do you think I thought up that cupola?" answered Grandma.

"It's still watertight though," said Dad, disappointed that nobody was on his side now.

"If I hadn't let him make that kind of roof, I would've made the biggest mistake of my life," said Grandma.

"Thanks, Mom, I still appreciate that," answered Dad, kissing her on the forehead.

"When you finish up here, come over to my place for some apple pie—it'll be done soon," said Grandma, who then headed home.

"I suggest that you help Caira with her plans and that you make sure her terrace is watertight," Mom told Dad.

"Maybe you're right ... I really should be on her side instead of telling her what to do."

"Thanks, Mom and Dad," said Caira, jumping for joy and hugging them. Then they all went to Grandma's.

The next day George ran the downpipe for water through the chimney. He connected it to the drain in the sewer system and sealed the joint.

Caira and Tin headed off to a quarry to select the marble for the facade and terrace. Rem and Zara were playing badminton with Dad when the truck full of polished stone pulled up in front of the courtyard. Caira could hardly wait to see her house in the marble, so she immediately called a meeting so work could get started. George made up a work plan, while Tin counted to make sure that they'd brought all the pallets he and Caira had ordered.

Dad brought the blowtorch so they could seal the terrace with tar before tiling it with the stone, and then he and Rem got to work. Caira, Eros, George, and Tin started installing the stone on the external walls. The first and second rows from the ground were covered with white stone of the same type as was planned for the terrace, and then they continued with black tiles.

Dad and Rem had already sealed half of the terrace when Dad noticed a hole as big as his hand in the middle.

"Well look at that, without our help the water would have run right onto their heads," said Dad, shaking his head.

He brought some crumpled paper, covered it with glue, and stuffed it into the hole to make a plug under the top. He mixed sand, cement, and water in a small pail until it was a thick mixture, and then poured it into the hole. When this had dried, Rem applied tar to everything once more, and then Dad put bitumen tape, which he had heated with the torch, over the top of everything. When this was finished, they poured liquid tar over any edges of the tape that were sticking up.

"There, now not even a drop of water will get into the house," said Dad, satisfied with his work.

They were making good progress with the stone tiles in the ground floor and the house was gradually taking on its new appearance. Caira watched the work. She felt pride and happiness inside. She looked forward to each morning and soon she reached the day when the last tile had been laid. She could hardly believe how well it had turned out, and she had no need to pretend she was satisfied with her house. Passersby noticed this too. They congratulated her on her bold architecture and asked how she intended to furnish the interior.

Tin selected the windows and doors. These had to be top quality, so he chose larch wood. The glass had a sheen that matched the color of the veins in the black marble.

Rem selected the red carpet and white seating for the terrace. Caira loved it. Now everything was like in a dream.

She made tea and invited her family to celebrate the new look.

They all marveled at the harmony of the clean shapes that Caira and her friends had created, and even her father had to admit that the terrace idea had been pretty good after all. But the view made the biggest impression. One could see far and wide in every direction from the terrace. The rivers and streams, mountains with peaks, and fields with woods brought a smile to Caira's face.

While the family was cheerfully chatting and sipping tea from white teacups, black clouds began to gather above them. Birds flew around anxiously, flying lower and lower and announcing the storm. There was lightning in the distance, and then large raindrops chased the guests from the terrace.

George covered the furniture with a tarp and returned to the house completely soaked. Tin looked anxiously at the ceiling in case there were any droplets of water. Only when it began to really rain hard and the ceiling was still dry did he relax and join the other family members in a game of cards.

But water collected on the terrace that didn't have any place to go. The big puddle turned into a pool, and when the water level rose above the top edge of the last step, it poured down the staircase. In a moment everything was wet. Rivulets of water were running down the walls, soaking the pictures on them.

"Quick, bring some towels," called George, using a broom to sweep the water back toward the staircase, so it wouldn't run into the room.

"I did say that this wouldn't end well," said Tin, running from room to room in fright.

Only Rem looked around, unconcerned, saying:

"But it's just water, the source of life!"

"Shut up already," cried Caira. "You and Dad offered to seal the roof, and now look at this destruction!"

"We did everything right ... the problem must be the materials," protested Rem.

"You see, Caira, on paper your terrace is really beautiful, but sometimes you also have to listen to advice from older people with experience," said Dad.

Tears came to Caira's eyes, and it seemed to her that the rain was making even her face wet now.

"You should talk! ... Have you forgotten that your cupola was blown off twice by the wind before you learned how to fasten it down properly?" commented Grandpa.

"Your whole roof blew off? You never mentioned that to us," said Caira with surprise.

George, who'd thought of the drain through the chimney, was bothered by something. Despite the rain he went out onto the terrace and waded through the water, which was over his ankles. He looked for the drain in order to figure out why the water wasn't running off. Soon he discovered that there simply was no drain. He used a large hammer to strike hard at the place where the hole should have been, and the stone tile broke into two. He pulled the pieces up out of the water and used a chisel to break out the plugged drain. Soon all the water ran off the terrace, and George headed back downstairs soaking wet.

"Someone plugged the drain!"

"That was a drain?" asked Rem with surprise.

"So you know something about this?"

"Yes, but not as much as he does," said Rem, pointing at Dad.

"Dad?" asked Caira, astonished.

"The hole went straight into the house. If I hadn't plugged it up, it would have run right through the room," said Dad.

"That hole was the drain, which we ran through the chimney," answered George.

"Well, it did seem to me that it was kind of dark in that room when I looked into the hole," remembered Dad.

"I forbid you to touch anything else in my house, and I forbid you to ever offer advice here again!" responded Caira in anger, when she grasped what had happened.

"How was I supposed to know that the drain went right through the middle of the house? Who's ever seen something like that anywhere?" Dad defended himself.

"Maybe this morning in your sink?" Eros commented.

"What, that guy's still here?" said Dad with annoyance. "I just wanted to help. Even parents make mistakes once in a while!"

"We're both parents, but you made that mistake all by yourself!" commented Mom.

"And now you're suddenly all against me?" said Dad, offended.

"Considering that he admitted everything, we could let him off by half," suggested Rem.

"But we should charge the other half as triple, considering the damage he caused," commented Tin.

"Don't argue, children, what's important is that we discovered the problem and that everything will be alright next time," contributed Grandma.

"As long as he doesn't help anymore," Tin looked at Dad.

"I did everything for you, I've tried to provide everything you wanted to the best of my ability. You've never lacked for anything and I've always been there for you. Look what kind of thanks you give me," said Dad with disappointment.

"That which you received from us, you owe your own children, not us. And you don't have the right to expect anything from your children because they don't owe you anything," returned Grandpa.

"Man plans, Life laughs!" said Eros, quoting someone.

Caira was hanging the wet towels and rags on the line when a big truck pulled up in front of the house. The driver began unloading wooden crates.

Caira watched with surprise.

"What's that?"

"Furniture for your house, miss," answered the driver.

"But we didn't order anything?!"

"Don't worry, miss, everything's in order!"

"What do you mean?"

"The man next door took care of everything," answered the driver, putting a large crate labeled "Values" in front of the entrance.

Caira's vision suddenly darkened.

"Take away all this stuff immediately and go away! I'll furnish my house myself," said Caira indignantly.

"Whatever you say, miss," answered the driver, frightened, and began to put all the crates back in the truck.

Caira went into the house.

"This is unheard of, now he's ordered furniture for the house and expects us to be thankful for that too!"

"Who?" asked Tin.

"Well, Dad, who else!"

"How dare he! He doesn't even have good taste," said George.

"How can you be so sure if nobody saw what they brought us?! Maybe we'd like it," answered Rem.

"He just doesn't take us seriously. He still thinks he's the smartest and that everything has to be his way," said Caira, still angry.

"We have to tell him clearly that we'll make our own decisions here and that we aren't interested in his opinion," said George.

"We have to threaten him, or else he'll never get it," suggested Tin.

"What does it matter to him what kind of house I have? He's got his own, after all. And the worst thing is that he's always making fun of me," said Caira.

"Did you hear how he said the other day that our terrace was like the mausoleum of a communist dictator?" recalled Tin.

"Don't exaggerate, he didn't mention any mausoleums," admonished Rem.

"You be quiet! I don't understand why you're always standing up for him! You must have formed some kind of alliance with him, you traitor!"

"If I like the mausoleum of a communist dictator, then I'll have it! And the most beautiful one at that. Like Eros said, my house has to please me and not him," said Caira.

"But that still doesn't mean you have to like precisely what he doesn't," commented Eros.

"Wrong! That's exactly what I'll like from now on," answered Caira.

"George, go to the grave supply store and bring everything we need for a mausoleum. Tin, you look for all the communist symbols," ordered Caira.

George and Tin headed into town.

"Comrade Caira, make sure you don't forget Stalin," commented Eros from the easy chair.

"And don't forget Stalin," she called after the two, and then she looked at Eros in surprise. "But who's Stalin?"

"Your comrade, spiritual leader, and role model. Father of the nation. You should know this as a young communist, Comrade Caira," explained Eros.

"Why are you calling me 'comrade'?"

"That's what people called each other during communist times."

"Tell me more about that," said Caira.

"Communism is a classless social order that historically was supposed to replace capitalism, and that's why it's first and foremost a social and economic system," explained Eros.

"What does this system advocate?"

"Equality among people and equal rights in society."

"That sounds wonderful."

"But they wanted to ensure this by making everyone had identical houses, but that didn't work out."

"Did Stalin have a nice house?" Caira wanted to know.

"At first everyone thought it was nice, but then people started disappearing in it."

"Just like that? Nobody missed them and looked for them?" asked Caira with surprise.

"Of course they did, but soon those that asked too many questions also disappeared."

Tin and George came into the room, all out of breath:

"We managed to find this, and three statues from the antique store will be delivered today," said Tin. George opened the coffin, which contained some plastic skulls, a brass urn, some graveside candles, and a big red flag.

"Do they sell skulls at the grave supply store too?" asked Eros with surprise.

"No, we found those in a department store; they're for Halloween," explained George.

"Great, we'll put them on the fence posts," said Caira.

A three-wheeled delivery vehicle stopped in front of the house. The cargo was so heavy that the cabin was pointing high into the air and the driver could barely see the street.

"Where can we put these?" asked the whiskered man, who strongly resembled the statue of Stalin.

"Let me see!" said Caira.

The driver unloaded three bronze figures and Caira looked them over carefully.

"This stern one with the whiskers goes by the main entrance, and the nice bald one in the courtyard," said Caira, leaning down to the third one, a bust. She read the inscription on the wooden stand: Study, study, study!

"That reminds me of Dad ... Put it on the terrace, so it will look over at his house from there."

The man with the whiskers put the statues in their places.

Tin hung the big red flag with the hammer and sickle from the terrace, and George glued the plastic skulls to the posts.

Caira spent some time looking at her house and the thing that excited her the most was the thought of what Dad would say when he came home from work.

She didn't have to wait long for Dad to come around the corner. When he saw the new look of Caira's house, it nearly knocked his socks off. Mom, who'd come home earlier, had already recovered from her initial surprise and she had to laugh a bit when she looked out the window and saw how dumbstruck her husband was.

But Dad was a wise person and he understood people well. He knew Caira was now expecting him to get angry and maybe even punish her, so he went to his veranda, lay down in a lounge chair in the shade under a large walnut tree and started reading the newspaper.

Caira watched him from her terrace. She was a bit surprised that he'd accepted what she'd done with her house so calmly.

"He's laughing at us," said Tin, stepping to the railing.

"Do you think he isn't mad?"

"I think he's smoldering with anger, but he won't let us see that for anything in the world," answered Tin.

"Do you guys think all this is OK?" said Rem a bit sadly, missing the good old days.

"OK? It would be OK if you were shut up in the basement and food were passed to you through a tiny window," said Tin.

Someone rang the doorbell. Eros opened the door and saw Mom holding a red carnation.

"I wanted to stop by ... I see you've furnished your house."

"And how do you like it?" asked Caira.

"It's quite something, and when I see you're happy, then I like it," answered Mom.

"What about Daddy?"

"He'll get used to it ... You know, he just needs some time."

Passersby stared at the big flag hanging from the house, but nobody said a thing, as though the whole thing didn't really interest them much. Only a drunk with a red nose saluted Stalin, as he stumbled home in the dusk.

The next day Caira came up with the idea of having a party on the terrace.

"Let's invite some prominent guests and have a fashion party," suggested Caira.

"But only if those stuck-up geese don't come this time," said Tin.

"Let's make a guest list," suggested George.

"Dot will help me make it. I want all of the cream of the crop of our school to come and for everything to be just like in Hollywood," answered Caira.

"What about Lenin, Stalin, and Tito?" asked Eros incredulously.

"What about them? They're invited too," answered Caira.

"That's not what I meant. They stand for communism and egalitarianism, but you're talking about Hollywood and the cream of society," answered Eros.

"Well, we'll dress them fashionably so they're also among equals," suggested Rem.

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that," smiled Eros.

Caira went to see Dot. The two of them called everyone who was anyone at their school, inviting them to the party.

Toward evening, Rem draped an ostrich feather boa around the Lenin statue's neck. He placed tiki torches along the red carpet on the terrace and put the graveside candles on the wall and the table. Tin put on some nice music with African drums, and George brought juice and cookies. Rem fastened a fat Cuban cigar to the bust of Tito and went to find something for Stalin.

Soon the first guests arrived. Caira waited for them on the balcony, which was practically sagging under the weight of flowerpots. She was dressed for the occasion in short checkered pants and a blouse that was cut too low, and her heels were so high she could hardly stand up. She was holding a small, sparkling purse with a skull on it, and she was wearing thick, dark eyeliner. She would've colored her hair bright red if her mother hadn't strictly forbidden it, so instead she'd combed it rakishly so that it covered the entire left side of her face.

"Classy," said a girl in a white dress and an oversized hat when she arrived on the terrace.

"May I pour you juice or water?" asked Tin.

"Vermouth, please."

"But we don't..."

"I'll bring it right away," interrupted Caira.

Then she ran into the house and shook Eros' shoulders.

"What's vermouth?"

"Italian dessert wine ... usually it's drunk with ice and lemon."

"And where am I supposed to find dessert wine?" asked Caira desperately.

"Offer her lemonade with ice and tell her that unfortunately you don't have the third ingredient."

"Have you lost your mind?! That girl's the daughter of a prominent journalist ... by tomorrow everyone'll already know that we didn't serve vermouth at our party. Please help me," cried Caira helplessly.

"But vermouth's an alcoholic beverage, and you're still..."

"... did you say an alcoholic beverage?"

Caira went downstairs wordlessly, took a canvas bag, and ran toward the neighboring house. She snuck in through the door. She encountered Grandma in the living room.

"Grandma, I'm so hungry," she pretended to complain, trying to steady her breath.

"Where did you get those heels? You'll break your ankles in those things!"

"Never mind the heels. Do you have anything sweet?"

"What do you want? Should I make crepes?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking of."

"Well, fine, then," said Grandma, going into the kitchen.

Caira opened the cupboard where there were bottles of alcoholic beverages. She quickly read the labels, looking for vermouth. It seemed to her that the most similar thing was blueberry-flavored vodka.

"What should I put in the crepe?" called Grandma from the kitchen.

"Whatever," called Caira, quickly hiding the bottle under her shirt and running into the hallway, so she could hide it in the canvas bag behind the door.

"You must really be hungry ... usually you want me to put chocolate in!"

"One's enough, I just need something to eat," said Caira, in a hurry to get back.

"But I made enough batter for ten crepes ..." Grandma was a bit annoyed.

"Call Zara!" said Caira, stuffing the crepe into her mouth.

She kissed Grandma and ran for the door. In the hallway she nearly ran into her mother, who had found her bag behind the door.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?"

Caira blanched. And the crepe stuck in her throat so that she couldn't even say a word.

"And what's in the bag to make it so heavy?" Mom interrogated her.

Caira had swallowed the whole crepe at once, but she was still speechless.

Mom opened the bag and found the bottle of vodka in it.

"We'll have to talk with your father about this!"

"Isn't that blueberry juice?" Caira said, trying to act innocent.

"Since when do we hide blueberry juice in a bag behind the door in our house?" asked Mom sternly.

Then Caira ran back to her own house without a word.

"Now I'm really done for," she said to herself, seeking Eros with her eyes.

She was greeted by a crowd of surprised expressions on the terrace.

"Ah, my vermouth ... classy," said the girl in the oversized hat.

At that moment Caira would rather have slid down the drain on the terrace out of embarrassment. She thought about her birthday party and how, now that she finally had the chance to recover her reputation, she'd messed everything up.

Eros walked by. He was holding a silver platter with twelve wide crystal goblets, each one with white, crystalline sugar around the rim, so they looked like small diamond bracelets. With a slight bow, he first offered a drink to the girl with the oversized hat and then to the others.

"What is this?" asked the girl when she'd had a sip.

"'Erosini Vermouth.' Unlike traditional vermouth, it's not fattening and it doesn't cause acne," answered Eros with a friendly smile.

"Classy," said the girl, and then everyone enthusiastically sipped their drinks from the beautiful glasses.

"Where did you get it from?" asked Caira with surprise.

"The fridge."

"But all we had in the fridge was juice and a few lemons."

"That's what I named 'Erosini Vermouth,'" explained Eros.

"But how did you convince them that they're drinking vermouth?" asked Caira, still curious.

"With a smile," answered Eros, flashing his white teeth in a broad grin.

"I can't believe it ... they all look like they're having a good time and the party's going well!"

"Remember this ... in life you always have the choice between two options: you can traipse around after others like a sheep and do everything to please them, or you can think with your own head and let the others follow you like sheep. You need nothing more than a bit of self-confidence for that," answered Eros.

"But where should I get that bit of self-confidence?" asked Caira.

"It's enough if you accept the fact that you can be an exception."

"But what if I'm not exceptional?"

"I said 'an exception,' pretty much everyone is exceptional. Exceptions are those that know how to think differently from others, and don't do only what others expect of them, and don't try to please others no matter the cost."

"May I interrupt?" asked a girl in a short skirt with fishnet stockings. Despite her spike heels she barely came up to Caira's shoulder.

"By all means!"

"Super party!"

"Thank you," responded Caira, flattered.

"May I offer you a cigarette? They're from Paris!" said the girl and opened a pack of slim ladies' cigarettes.

"No thanks, I don't smoke," answered Caira.

Eros winked at her with satisfaction, nodding his head slightly.

Dad came up to the terrace.

"The party's over ... Let's thank our guests and wish them a safe trip home. Caira, you're grounded for two days ... to sober up!"

"But ..."

"No buts! You crossed the line and abused our trust!"

"I didn't do anything," protested Caira, but Dad just waved the guests toward the exit. The girl with the oversized hat stopped in front of the Stalin statue. He was wearing sunglasses and his hand was raised as though he were bidding the guests farewell at the door.

"Classy," said the girl, pressing her lips against Stalin's cheek, leaving a trace of lipstick behind.

"Tomorrow take down all these statues and remove all the skulls from the fence!" said Dad.

"No, I won't!" protested Caira.

"Then we'll have to discuss this a bit differently," said Dad, heading down the stairs.

Caira was left alone.

Self-confidence is nothing other than the willingness to be an exception, echoed in her ears, think with your own head and don't try to please others no matter what the cost.

"I'm not a sheep! Not anymore," said Caira, and she went to find the bucket of tar.

The next morning Dad looked out the window and noticed that people were looking at his house and laughing.

"What's up today that's putting people in such a good mood?" he wondered.

He poured himself a cup of coffee. Soon he saw the mailman on his bike flipping him off and laughing. Dad stepped outside, bemused. When he turned around, he saw painted on the facade of his house in big letters: FUCK YOU.

He stood motionless for some time, staring at the letters, from which tiny black rivulets of tar ran down, sparkling in the sun like droplets of sweat. He didn't move and didn't say anything, just stood there as though he were carrying a stone lintel across his shoulders that he couldn't put down. His heart was pierced by sadness and suddenly he felt an invisible force pulling his legs out from under him. As though a scythe were slicing through the dewy grass and cutting its green blades, he slipped to the ground.

Somewhere in the distance an ambulance's siren could be heard and flashing lights moved along the walls like birds of prey. Then there were a lot of faces ... some of them familiar and others complete strangers. Many of them showed fear and pain, others worry and sadness, and still others nothing.

Then everything went dark.

The mother and her two daughters stood in the waiting room, silently waiting for news. The movements of the hands of the clock seemed to last an eternity and footsteps echoed through the hallway as though they wanted to drown out the worst words, those that nobody's ever prepared to hear. Mom pressed the girls to her as though to protect them from what awaited them. Caira pressed her bright red head against her mother and was infinitely sorry that she'd colored her hair the night before.

It was completely silent in the waiting room for a while, and then the door opened.

"Everything's going to be all right ... the gentleman just collapsed. Tests don't show that it was anything worse than that. We'll keep him a few days for observation and, if everything's alright, he'll be home by the weekend," said the doctor.

"As long as he's alright ... we were so afraid," said Mom, letting out a long breath.

"Where's Daddy?" asked Zara.

"In the room at the end of the hallway. You can visit him."

"Thank you!"

When he saw them at the door his cheeks regained their color. They'd all come, and that was important.

"You frightened us so ... The doctor says everything will be alright. How do you feel?" Mom hugged Dad tightly.

"Now I feel great. I guess I got dizzy because I still hadn't had my coffee."

"As long as it's nothing serious."

"How are things at home?"

"The same as usual, just that you're not there."

"Daddy, at school they teased me and said that we're really rich. Is that true?" asked Zara, chatty as usual.

"It's true that we're rich, because we have each other and we don't have to worry about what we're going to eat and where we're going to sleep. Everything else is unimportant."

"Do you need anything?" asked Mom.

"Everything I need is right here!"

Everyone understood his words. Caira's eyes roamed the room, but when her eyes met his, he finally saw in them what he had been missing for so long ... If he'd known that he'd find it here, he would've been lying in a hospital bed a long time ago already.

"What kind of tests did they do?" asked Caira, finally.

"Everything imaginable ... They put electrodes here to check my heart, and they withdrew blood here."

"With a needle?" wondered Zara.

"Yes, with a big needle, so they could fill up three test tubes."

"Have you eaten?" asked Mom.

"Almost like at home," joked Dad.

"Do you want anything?"

"Only the three of you," answered Dad, hugging all of them to him.

"We'll come again tomorrow, but now get some rest and don't think about work," said Mom, hugging him tightly one more time.

"I love you, I love you all."

"We love you too," answered Mom, turning out the light.

Dad closed his eyes and felt warmth in his heart. He was happy and could hardly wait to be home again.

"It hurts ... because you don't understand."

Dad looked at Eros sitting in glow of the moon on the nightstand next to his head.

"Growing up is part of life. We experienced it too," answered Dad.

"But you still hoped that it would be different with Caira."

"I didn't even think about that."

"How is it possible that someone you love so much, someone for whom you'd do anything in the world and even give up your own life, could stab you in the back like that?" asked Eros.

"It's probably hormones. Kids change during those years."

"But those hormones still get along just fine with Mom, Grandpa, and Grandma. Do you think they only work differently with you?"

"Are you hinting that I made a mistake? Does it seem right that you're preaching to me, even though you don't have any experience with children?"

"We all have it! None of us was born an adult."

"So it's my own fault? But where did I go so wrong?"

"You're a good person. The kind of father every child could only wish for. You gave her love, spent all your free time with her, were her teacher and role model ... Caira received enough praise from her parents and there are lots of nice pictures in her house. You also set enough limits for her, and when she didn't follow the rules she was punished fairly."

"Were my expectations too high?"

"Only children whose parents have high enough expectations will be able to do well and take care of themselves in life. Expectations create work habits, diligence, conscientiousness, perseverance, and care! On the other hand, children also have to discover their own limits. This is the only way they can learn to respect other worlds. The art of good childrearing is the right balance between expectations, praise, and punishment."

"Punishment?" wondered Dad.

"Of course, our worlds have limits. They're necessary because we live in communities with others. Children need to learn the limits of their own worlds and how to respect other worlds. People who don't cross their own borders can't know them, and those who do cross them need to know that they've entered foreign territory. This is the only way to learn that we're responsible for our own actions and that we always hold life in our hands. But punishment has to be fair and children need to know that they deserve it."

"Did Caira cross the border of respect?"

"Caira is a child with her heart and head in the right place."

"I don't understand," answered Dad, looking at Eros.

"I told you it hurts because you don't understand. The blows we receive when we know why we deserve them are far less painful than those we get without having any idea why."

"I'd like to know why I got this one. Maybe it won't pierce my heart so much the next time."

"You didn't know that Caira had to enroll in the school of life. You're her father and she's part of you, but that doesn't mean that you're her only teacher. She's part of Life too and Life expects her to accept what she needs to learn from it ... You didn't realize that you were standing in her way."

"What can this life give her that I can't?"

"Love, happiness ... and self-confidence, which is what she needs the most right now," answered Eros.

"But I've given her everything ... She ought to be the most self-confident girl in the world. She has a fantastic house, exactly the kind she wanted, she has lots of friends, she's doing well in school, and she never lacks for anything. How could I have given her anything more?"

"Whoever teaches gives the most, and whoever only gives, gives the least. Teaching means revealing bad and good sides, allowing experimentation, and allowing mistakes ... How can children conquer the barriers in life when you lift them when they want to go through them? They'll go through life expecting an invisible hand to lift them over all the barriers and, if the hand's not there, they'll get stuck. If you take all bad experiences away from them, it's like not letting them go to school."

"I still don't understand why she shouldn't be self-confident."

"Because you don't know what self-confidence is. A person can have everything, but that still doesn't mean that he'll also be self-confident. On the other hand, he could have absolutely nothing and still be self-confident. The fact that we fall short of being perfect is just our own illusion, nothing other than an ordinary excuse to cover up the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

"The truth is that everyone should think with their own head."

"But Caira does think with her own head, she's too strong-headed!"

"You see, that's the problem right there. It's impossible to think too much with your own head. How can you expect children to learn to think with their own heads if you're always letting them know that it's best if they think like you do? Only those who think with their own heads can accept their worlds. This has key importance for happiness in life."

"But I have experience that children still don't have!"

"The road to experience is worth much more than the experience itself. Parents who do their children's homework for them shouldn't wonder why their kids don't know anything. In reality they're just destroying their children's idea of their own worlds and it can soon happen that these kinds of people don't value their own way of thinking their whole life."

"But you can't just leave children to themselves, let alone life! Only bad parents would do that!"

"Bad parents are those who don't love their children, but those who show their infinite love in harmful ways are just as bad. It's these parents who are the most disappointed when their children don't return their love ... Parents who think that children only feel their love when they're satisfying their every whim are seriously mistaken. The moment these children leave their houses their worlds fall apart. How couldn't they be disappointed by life after that? ... Firm foundations are the most important thing for every house, but the only ones who get these are those who understand that they're loved even though they aren't perfect and don't get everything they want. Those who know they're just as good even when they don't receive praise, and that they deserve happiness even if everything's going wrong for them at the moment ... The secret of happy people isn't that their parents gave them everything, but that they taught them that their happiness doesn't depend on others. Happy people understand that their happiness doesn't come from the things they have and that unhappiness doesn't come from the things they don't have. The secret of people who easily cope with their lives is not that their parents managed to shield them from all problems, but that they taught them how to deal with them ... Whoever realizes that it's not necessary to blindly follow others will be happy. That's parents' most important task."

"How can life give Caira self-confidence if I can't?"

"In her first seven years Caira built the best human values into her foundation. Her house has a lot of beautiful pictures that are nothing other than her parents' recognition and praise. But now she's building her own world and setting up her own house. Now it's time for you to let her think with her own head. This is the only way she'll accept the world she's creating ... The truly self-confident are only those who accept their worlds and think with their own heads. Self-confidence means that we don't worry about what others will think about our houses and worlds. Only those who are aware that no world's perfect and that no house is without flaws can be self-confident ... People who try to hang only pretty pictures in their houses will search for contentment in vain. Those who know how to value all pictures, not only the ones they like, but also the ones they don't, will find contentment because every world is beautiful, no matter what our own perceptions of it are."

"So we only give children nice pictures when we give them praise they deserve. But life can teach them how to value all pictures, which is much more important."

"Whoever's unable to accept his own world creates deceptive pictures in his house. But these stage sets can't substitute for the real world, and this kind of person can't find happiness."

"I think I'm starting to understand. Everything we use to try to touch up our pictures of ourselves and make an impression on others are these stage sets."

"That's right. Whoever accepts his world can't be unhappy about the pictures hanging in it. Nobody can knock his legs out from under him and pull down his perceptions because he'll always get back on his feet and his world will always be beautiful."

"But is self-confidence really that important?"

"Do you doubt it? You can't even imagine how many problems, woe, and evil come from unaccepted houses and worlds. A general who's dissatisfied with his one-story house is capable of sparking a revolution and conquering half of Europe simply because he wasn't able to conquer his own world."

"Do you think that Lenin and Stalin also weren't happy with their houses?"

"I don't know, maybe. I never saw their houses and I can't judge them. Lenin's roofing fell off early on and toward the end of his life his roof supposedly leaked somewhat, and Stalin had a withered hand from birth as well as webbed toes. We'll never know what kind of injustice in their youth contributed to their becoming the most influential people of their time."

"And Tito?"

"What about him?"

"What was wrong with his house?"

"Why does there need to have been anything wrong with his house? I didn't say that all leaders have trouble with their houses. Tito and his Partisans only defended themselves from someone who only had one walnut planted by his veranda."

"I understand," laughed Dad.

"And now go to sleep! You've had a hard day and the on-duty nurse will have a stroke if she sees me here at this hour."

Eros headed for the door.

"I want to know something else! Why is it that Caira doesn't have problems with her mother?"

"She read the book that you found in the woods."

"So was that book intended for me?"

"I don't know why else your route would've taken you right by that rock. I only know that behind all coincidences there's a plan and behind all plans there's a coincidence. Good night," answered Eros.

Dad soon came home and Caira put away the statues of famous statesmen. The red flag with the hammer and sickle also no longer hung from the house and there were no skulls on the fence posts.

While Dad was away, Eros decided to repaint his house without asking anyone. He chose a very dark red. When Dad came home he was waiting by the door.

"That was very bold, deciding what color to paint my house. How did you know I would like it?" said Dad when he saw his house's new appearance.

"I didn't know! I only knew that you'd been to the school of life. If you hadn't learned to accept your world, you'd really have it in for me now," laughed Eros.

"I'll remember that lesson well," answered Dad.

"The advantage of this color is that it's so dark that black won't show," teased Eros.

"Oh, are you home already?! I ought to introduce Dennis!" said Caira with surprise. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Pleased to meet you," answered Dad, looking at the young man with torn pants and hair that looked like a bird had dived onto his head.

Dennis shook his hand and then Caira quickly pulled him into her house.

"I know exactly what you're thinking," said Eros.

"Was that Dennis Goodfornothing?"

"I'd like to know if there's any father who hasn't received that assignment from the school of life," smiled Eros.

"So is this school named this way because it lasts your whole life?"

"Maybe," answered Eros.

"Oh, good heavens, what's that?" said Dad, lifting his foot. "A horse dropping? Where could it have come from, we haven't seen horses around here for years!"

"A horse dropping?!" Eros looked at his soiled shoes with surprise. "I hope it brings you luck, it's just brought me some," he answered, quickly shaking Dad's hand in parting.

***

"It's treachery, treachery," a man was crying from the top of the plateau. And a young man was running down the slope as fast as his legs could carry him, using his bow to weave his way among the sparse plants. An arrow flew past his head, burying itself deeply in the bark of a tree. The young man ran on without looking back.

Suddenly the leaves moved under his feet and a snare sprang upwards. It immediately wrapped itself around his legs and pulled him high into the air, so that he was hanging from a branch with his head pointing downwards. Everything he was carrying fell on the ground: his quiver of arrows, his small leather belt with blades of grass sewn into it, his bronze dagger, and his necklace made of animal's fangs.

The young man could only watch helplessly as Eros approached, leaned his shoulders against his, and cut the rope with the tip of one of the arrows lying next to the trunk of the tree. The young man being rescued tumbled over Eros' back and landed with his feet on the ground. He looked towards the plateau and made sure nobody was following him. Then he picked up his bow and the items he had lost.

It was only now that Eros noticed that the young man was very short, hardly reaching past his waist. His body was well-proportioned and shapely, and his muscles were well-defined and firm. A triangular piece of leather around his waist almost reached his knees in front. He was tanned and his glossy black hair fell in waves to his broad shoulders.

"You're not from around here," the young man said.

"Now I am," replied Eros.

"I'm Filito. Thank you for saving my life."

Eros offered him his hand, but the young man only slapped his palm.

"Eros... Who are you running away from?"

"From Sard."

"Why?"

"Sard's the leader of the hunters. He's big and strong, so everyone's afraid of him. Lately he's only wanted to do it with me. I've got fed up with it and so he accused me of betrayal."

"Don't you freely choose who you do it with?"

"Of course, but he has the last word during the hunt."

"So this is how he displays his dominance?"

"Yes. If he thinks someone's better than him, he always picks on him."

"And what did you do to deserve his attention?"

"I invented a blue glaze for pottery. The secret of making it brought wealth to our tribe, so we carefully protect it. But Sard's convinced that the hunters do the most for the tribe... What's that plate for that you're carrying?"

"It's a mirror," said Eros.

"Can I see?"

Eros handed him the mirror. The young man looked at it from all sides and when he saw his reflection in it, it scared him so much that he threw it into the leaves.

"Somebody from our tribe's in the plate!" he said, frightened.

"Really? Who?" smiled Eros.

"He looks like my father, but he's not!"

"Of course not. Haven't you ever seen a mirror before?"

"Is it dangerous?"

"It's not dangerous. It's only a plate that reflects your image. Take another look!"

Filito cautiously took the mirror and stared motionlessly at his image.

"Why is he so scared?"

"Smile and he won't be anymore," suggested Eros.

Filito showed his white teeth and a few moments later he doubled-up in laughter. Then he tried to touch the image behind the mirror and to touch his nose with his tongue, thinking that his reflection wouldn't be able to copy him.

"So that's me, me, not somebody else, me?"

"That's you."

"I'm handsome," said Filito. "Come on, I'll introduce you to King Aragen!"

"Aren't you afraid of Sard's revenge?"

"Our camp's three and half days' walk from here and the hunters will return only when the moon's in the last quarter. At home Sard's as meek as a lamb, who's afraid of his woman as soon she stomps her foot on the floor."

Eros and Filito headed towards the camp. They followed the creek that crossed the plateau and, when they grew tired, Filito sought out a hidden recess in the rocks, where they spent the night. During the day, when the sun beat down, they rested in the shade, and in the afternoon they made a fire and roasted a fish or a squirrel, and they walked in the evening and at night.

Eros admired Filito's hunting skills. He was calm and collected, and his arrow rarely missed. He was even able to hit a fish in the creek with ease, even though it seemed that he didn't aim at all.

"Pssst," Filito said suddenly and stopped motionless. Holding his hands up to his ears, he listened to the sounds carried by the wind.

Eros couldn't hear anything, which made him wonder even more what the young man had picked up.

"The he-women!" said Filito. "We'd better avoid them."

"I don't see anyone," said Eros, amazed.

"They're on the edge of the forest, only twelve stones' throws away."

"Aren't they from your tribe?"

"Yes, but the hunters and he-women don't like each other."

"How come?"

"It's not so simple! Once hunting was a big deal. There wasn't much game and it was dangerous in the forest, so only the strongest ventured into it. The women stayed home and took care of the children and other chores. Gradually we became better organized and improved our weapons, and today hunting's more for fun than a dangerous search for food. There's lots of game and it's easy to come back loaded down after only three nights, but our women like to keep us busy with boring chores at home, and so we only return to the camp when the moon's in the last quarter."

"And what are the he-women doing in the forest?"

"Once there were some women that wanted to go along on the hunt. To convince them otherwise we started making up stories about horrible beasts and dangers. But the he-women had had enough of our stories and headed off into the forest themselves. So they unmasked us and since then we don't like each other."

"What do you mean, unmasked you?"

"That most of the time we lie around in the grass and make up stories to tell when we get back or improve our weapons, compete at target shooting, do it with one another, roast meat, masturbate together, and fantasize about women back in the camp. Then we glorify the hunt back at home."

"Do you also share the women when you get back?"

"Pervert! How can you ask something so indecent?!" said Filito, offended.

"Sorry," said Eros.

"Everyone has the right to love who they want. After all, we're an egalitarian community!"

"Egalitarian, except when it comes to dividing the work," smiled Eros.

"That's also not true! Not all the men go hunting. Some stay with the women in the camp. And the women that want to go hunting can join the he-women. So everyone can decide for themselves what to do and how to live."

"If some of the men stay with the women while the others go hunting... is anyone afraid that they'll have a breeding advantage?" asked Eros with interest.

"Come on, what kind of advantage? Even King Aragen, who's the only one who could have anyone in our camp, is only interested in Queen Sarkene. And Parthen, our medicine man, isn't capable of doing it with anyone, but he likes children. The other men that stay in the camp during the hunt are either too young or too old, or aren't interested in women. Besides, we hunters are much more attractive to the women than the ones that stay in the camp. So Coincidence has ensured complete balance when it comes to progeny."

"So what do the men do that don't go hunting?"

"Together with the women they take care of our homes, gather berries in the woods, harvest grain, make attractive jewelry, pots, clothes and battle gear, decorate our homes with furniture, take care of animals, and wait for us to come back. And when the moon's in the last quarter, they see to our comfort—they're great cooks and they spoil us. If we get hurt while hunting, they tend our wounds and anoint us with healing oils they make themselves. And in the evening they entertain us with dancing or games, making sure that everyone has a good time."

"So everyone has their job?"

"That's right. What about you, what's it like in your camp?" asked Filito with interest.

"Come to think of it, everything's the same as with you, only that everyone thinks that they're more important than the others. But our medicine man strictly told us that whatever he couldn't do was also indecent and wrong for others."

"Your arm's almost as big as my leg. Are the others also like that?" asked Filito, grabbing Eros' upper arm in both hands.

"They are. Judging from what you're saying, everyone in your camp is your size," said Eros.

"I'm one of the bigger ones," smiled Filito.

"Are they..."

"Quiet, the wind has shifted!" whispered Filito.

They made a big circle to avoid the place where the he-women were hunting. At the top of a cliff Filito motioned Eros to crawl over to him. When he looked over the edge, he saw a group of women a stone's throw away. They were stocky, muscular, and hairier than Filito. They had broad faces and sharp features with large noses and jutting chins, and their flat breasts weren't womanly at all. Some game that they had hunted was lying in the grass and next to it was a pile of spears and some bows. All of the women's backs and arms were painted with sinister images, and each one had an unusually long knife in her belt.

"They're every bit as good as our group, but are much more competitive and violent. You don't play games with them," explained Filito.

Suddenly one of the women yelled. The he-women grabbed their bows and all ran off in the same direction.

"A wild boar! I wonder if they'll get it. It had quite a lead on them."

"Are they dissatisfied with their status in the camp?"

"How did you know? They always have the feeling that they're being treated unfairly. They think it's easier to be a man than a woman," said Filito.

"Judging from how much time you spend lying in the shade, it's also true."

"Are you already on their side?"

"I'm only on the side of truth," said Eros.

"You talk like Aragen! Are you also a king?"

"We haven't had kings for quite a while."

"What? You don't have kings? But everything must be messed up if you don't have one?! Then who metes out justice? Don't people take advantage of each other?"

"I've never thought that happens because we don't have kings," Eros reflected.

"Maybe that's why you carry those strange plates... People need a king, otherwise we don't see the truth about ourselves."

"In our world people can look in the mirror and not see the truth about themselves... Do you have a woman?" asked Eros.

"One hasn't been chosen for me yet."

"Don't you choose one yourself?"

"You might choose the wrong one, and so you have to wait until the chosen one comes along!"

"But how can someone else choose better than you?"

"Nobody chooses instead of you. She has to be meant for you, chosen. Only she's the right one."

"And who decides who the right one is?

"Coincidence!"

"Coincidence?" asked Eros in surprise. "Does that mean anyone at all can be the right one?"

"Not at all, only one! The one that Coincidence shows you and not the one you want to be coincidental."

"Is there some sort of plan behind this coincidence?"

"I knew you'd understand," smiled Filito.

"But what if you make a mistake and think that it's a coincidence, but it wasn't a coincidence?"

"That can also happen, but not completely by coincidence. It even happened to our King Aragen, who, was blindly in love with Asari before he fell in love with Queen Sarkene. When he came to his senses, he was chosen to be king."

"And what happened to his previous love?"

"Nothing, she's waiting at home for Sard to come back from hunting."

"What a coincidence!" said Eros.

The women had returned to the fire and laid an enormous wild boar on the grass. An arrow was still sticking out of the back of its neck, and its hind legs were covered in blood.

"Why did they castrate it?" asked Eros with surprise.

"You don't want to know!... Come on, let's go to the camp."

The fortified camp stood on a small rise, where two creeks joined to form a small river. A wide dusty path led to the wall standing in the sun, where the entrance was. The camp was surrounded by massive blocks of stone, which protected it from intruders.

When they reached the gate, Filito whistled loudly.

Someone looked over the wall and then disappeared.

"Filito's brought a giant!" said a voice on the other side of the wall.

Soon several heads were peering suspiciously over the wall above the entrance.

"Open up, I've brought a guest," cried out Filito.

"And where are the others? How do we know that the giant didn't kill all of them and take you hostage so he can kill us too?"

The people on the wall drew their bows and aimed their arrows at the newcomer.

"Sard and I had an argument and so I came alone. The giant saved my life! He's not mean. Open up already," insisted Filito.

"Tell him to put down that thing he's holding!"

Eros laid the mirror on the ground.

"He doesn't seem dangerous," someone said and then the gate made of logs slowly opened.

"Take your plate so we can scare them a little," suggested Filito.

Eros entered the camp accompanied by Filito.

The distance from the entrance to the other end of the camp was about one hundred of Eros' strides and twice as many of Filito's. The camp was half as wide as it was long.

A few men and many women crowded around them. Some of the women were holding children in their arms and others were looking at the stranger with curiosity. The men were somewhat more reserved, but no less curious. They first looked at Eros from a safe distance and, when they saw that he wasn't dangerous, they drew closer and reached out their hands toward his body.

"Eros is my guest, so please don't touch him!"

"Lucky guy," said one man, wrapped in a golden yellow fox skin.

"But you can look at his plate," suggested Filito.

The people cautiously took the mirror.

Each one that looked in it was seized with fear. This greatly amused Filito. An older woman shrieked so loud that several children started crying loudly.

"Who are you?" asked a man with a long carved staff decisively, coming down the hill.

He was wearing a bear's head on top of his head, a wolf's head hung from his left shoulder, and a hedgehog's head from his right. A short corpulent man waddled, rather than walked, alongside him, supporting himself with a staff topped with a human skull. He wore a bronze necklace in the shape of a crescent moon around his neck, and his arms were covered with bracelets and other ornaments.

The crowd immediately quieted and moved aside.

"Eros. I'm led by coincidence."

"He saved my life," said Filito, bowing deeply to King Aragen.

"Coincidence? If that's so, we'll have a feast for our guest today," decreed the king.

Then Filito showed Eros around the camp. Not far from the entrance, at the top of the hill, surrounded by a circular wall, rose a temple, the central and largest structure in the camp. Imposing monoliths stood next to the steps leading into it; three on the left and two on the right. They were colored with red ochre and faces were carved on them. They stood upright as though guarding the tranquility of the temple with large swords and bronze daggers.

"Those are the images of the ones who have seen the truth. Now they guard the temple. The hunters place all of their quarry every month. Parthen, the medicine man, who lives in it, then sacrifices some of it to Coincidence, and King Aragen divides the rest among the people. The hunters get the hides," explained Filito.

"And what happens with the sacrificed quarry?"

"They divide it among those that need it to survive because Coincidence has taken away their ability to hunt and collect food. Some of it goes to the ones that contribute their work to the temple and we trade some with other camps for things that we need."

"It's so peaceful here."

"The children aren't allowed near the temple."

"Out of respect?"

"No, because of Parthen. It could be a temptation for him."

Along the path to the temple there was a settlement of stone houses with wooden roofs covered by animal skins. The houses were strewn about without any sort of order, and only those next to the wall were aligned in a row. There were cuts of wild game and fish drying in front of almost every one of them. Most of the houses were divided into two rooms: one for the people and the other for the animals.

There were quite a few dogs in the camp and all of them were very similar. The children laughed loudly, ran about and played without any supervision. When they saw Eros, they suddenly quieted down. They drew closer to him and admired him in silence.

The central square was teeming with people. They were so enchanted by the mirror that they no longer paid any attention to Eros and Filito. They were grimacing and marveling at how they looked.

In the western part of the camp, not far from the temple, the king's multistory palace stood behind a large cliff. There were flowers blooming on its many terraces and Eros thought he could see a woman's face among them. An upright stone block with a carved sword and dagger stood next to the entrance; instead of a face it had a semicircle with a small carved triangle.

"This is the king's palace and my house is here next to it," said Filito, pointing at a modest hut with a narrow entrance and large awning covered with animal skins.

Eros barely managed to squeeze himself into the small room and, before his eyes had adjusted to the dark, Filito greeted someone with great joy:

"My little rat Ro...!"

Eros noticed a small rat with a white spot on its neck in Filito's hand. It rose up on its hind legs and Filito set it on his shoulder. It seemed as though the animal wanted to whisper something into his ear.

"He's really smart," said Filito, stroking Ro on the head.

A shadow silently slipped through the door and Eros noticed a fat tomcat with its tail in the air, rubbing himself against Filito's legs.

"And this is Eo, the biggest layabout and hedonist in our camp!"

"I also have a mouse named It, but he's shy and only comes out when Eo goes roaming."

Filito spread out a few goatskins on the floor:

"You can sleep here."

"Where does this passage go?" asked Eros, pointing to a narrow opening in the corner.

"That's where I store my provisions and some other things too."

Eros peered through the hole and at the end of a spiral staircase noticed a pot filled with lard, a few baskets of skins, a ball, a bow without a string, a laptop computer, and a few other everyday things.

"Come on now, we can't be late for the feast in your honor!"

A crowd had already gathered on the flat area in front of the temple. Each one had brought a large reed-mat so that they covered the entire area under the olive trees. Then they started bringing different kinds of food from the houses. First they brought out blue pots of soup and stew. Wooden platters were laden with dried meats, grubs fried in lard, mushrooms, baskets filled with cracked grains, and vegetables the like of which Eros had never seen before. They brought out roast meat, filling the air with its fragrance, on stone platters borne on wooden planks. These platters were so hot that the meat was still sizzling even though they were no longer on the coals. There were fruits, juices, various other drinks, and delicacies made with honey, figs, and nuts in abundance. When all of the food had been laid in the center of the square, the selection was so great that Eros couldn't sample everything even if he had taken only a bite from each dish.

Then King Aragen arrived, escorted by his queen. Sarkene was a middle-aged woman, but so attractive that it took one's breath away to look at her. Eros recognized the face that he had sensed more than seen among the flowers.

Aragen was somewhat older than her, but the only indication of this was the gray hairs at his temples. His body was still muscular and radiated the same strength that one could sense in his eyes. The king and queen sat down on a large deer skin opposite Eros and Filito.

"Are we waiting for Parthen again?" asked Aragen with surprise.

"He doesn't feel well and so he won't be attending the feast," explained an older woman.

"Let the feast begin," said the king with a gesture.

Everyone ate and chatted, and when the sun set they lit torches. Complete harmony reigned in the camp; only Parthen was lying on his litter, thinking about the unusual visitor. He didn't like him, but didn't know why.

Eros noticed that the people living in the camp were very simple, relaxed and unusually happy. They enjoyed chatting, they laughed, and were very courteous towards one another. Their faces bore no signs of worry, sorrow or fear. It seemed to Eros that nearly every woman and even the men were flirting with him. It was only Sarkene that gave him a friendly look and nothing more. She seemed unbelievably attractive to him and he hoped that he himself would meet a woman like her one day.

"Eros brought along a miraculous plate that sees the truth," said Filito.

"Maybe Coincidence sent him so we could learn from him!"

"Maybe Coincidence sent me so that I could learn from you," replied Eros.

Somebody brought out Eros' mirror and handed it to the king. But he didn't selfishly hold it in front of himself like all the others, but set it between himself and the queen, so that Sarkene could also look it in at the same time.

So instead of themselves, they saw each other in the mirror.

"Look, look, a plate that sees the truth! I can truly see the most perfect creature in it that was ever born," laughed Aragen.

"Look at that, I can also see my dream that was fulfilled when I met you," replied Sarkene.

They couldn't tear their eyes from one another for a long time.

"They're still in love just as much as the first day," whispered Filito.

Eros noticed that many of the women who were secretly watching the royal couple had stopped laughing.

"What's the world like where you come from, Eros?" asked King Aragen.

"It's basically the same as here, but because of its deception it appears completely different. People have much more than you do, but they lost a lot on their path to wealth. So they're not as happy as the people in your camp."

"There's also envy, greed, and lies among us," said Sarkene.

"Yes, that's the price of progress. But you didn't lose love because of that, and people don't have to wear masks."

"Can a world without love even exist at all?" asked Aragen with surprise.

"One that lives day to day, vegetating!"

"King Aragen and Queen Sarkene, may we begin the performance we've prepared for our guest?" asked a thin young man with sparkling eyes and a red image painted on his chest.

"Begin!"

The people immediately started putting away the leftovers and making room. Eros turned around and saw twelve large drums that had been placed on the other side of the space. Then the young man at the first drum started beating and a young blindfolded man came out, following the rhythm of his blows. Then the second one started drumming, but his rhythm was different from the first, and a girl joined the young man. She was also blindfolded. When all twelve drums were sounding, six young men and six young women were standing together, blindfolded. Each drum was beating with its own rhythm and the disoriented dancers were walking back and forth, touching each other with their hands until all of the drums suddenly stopped. Then the young man with the red image on his chest appeared and walked among the motionless dancers. Then he removed the blindfolds from the performers, and the dancers formed a circle around him. Now all of them were jumping together, even though the drums were still beating in their own rhythms. Then all of this fused together into a rhythmic harmony, carrying away the spectators, who followed the rhythm with loud clapping.

The dancers left and another young man appeared. First he pounded on his chest, and then got down on the ground and crawled on his knees. Somebody from the crowd yelled out:

"Sard!" and everyone started laughing.

"This is a game in which the actor on the stage imitates people from our camp, and the others guess who it is," explained Sarkene.

Then the young man raised his hands as though he were holding an invisible object in it. But when he opened his eyes and looked at it, he was frightened.

"Eros," yelled someone from the audience and everyone erupted in laughter again. Then the young man pointed at Eros and the others to be quiet.

"He wants you to guess," said Filito.

The young man bent his arms towards his body and hopped in a circle with his neck outstretched.

"A rooster," said Eros, but the young man wasn't satisfied with his answer.

Then he squatted on the ground, strained for a while, and then got up, looked at the ground behind him tenderly.

"A hen!"

Now the young man called on Eros to imitate someone.

Eros stepped in front of the people, thought for a bit and then drew an invisible bow, aimed, and shot.

"A hunter!" shouted Aragen, but then Eros indicated breasts with his hands.

"A he-woman," Sarkene corrected him.

And so they partied late into the night.

A noise awakened Eros in the morning. He looked through the gate and saw the people carrying blue pottery, bronze covers and ladles, woolen cloth, leather sandals, and jewelry.

"The hunters from the neighboring camp have come... They'd like to trade with us," explained Filito.

On the other side of the wall the people were spreading out their wares. When the hunters from the other camp saw Eros, they leapt up and hid in the bushes.

The people started to laugh and then someone said:

"He's not dangerous, you can come back!"

The hunters slowly emerged from the bushes.

"Who's that?" asked one of the strangers.

"Ero...," someone started to say, but a cunning elder cut him off:

"That's our Filito. We rubbed him with this magical oil and he grew bigger."

"And how much do you want for that oil?" asked the man.

"Seven pieces of obsidian!"

"That's a lot."

"Whatever you rub with this oil will grow twice as big! Just look at him," said the elder seriously.

"I'll take a jug of it!"

"But then you have to pay for that too; two pieces of obsidian," the elder said cleverly.

"For one jug? That much?"

"But it's not an ordinary jug; it's blue pottery, colored with peacock feathers and star dust!"

The man counted out nine black stones in front of the elder.

"They always trade so that we end up with more than the gullible hunters," whispered Filito.

"That's not fair. The hunters will come back and return the oil," said Eros.

"How could they return it? They'll rub so many things with it that they'll use it up before they figure out that it doesn't work."

"What do you need the black stones for?"

"That's obsidian. We make spear points and arrow heads from it. You can't find it around here and so it's very valuable."

Eros noticed that women had gone off into the bushes and were returning with necklaces and other ornaments.

"So how come the women don't trade in front of the entrance like the men?" asked Eros.

"But they're not trading! They're doing it in the bushes and the hunters are giving them gifts in gratitude."

"Don't you think this is indecent?"

"Indecent? But why? They're only women that don't love."

"But still, they're making love with strangers and accepting gifts in return!"

"You're really strange! Who said that they're making love in the bushes? What kind of strange customs do you have where you come from?" asked Filito with surprise.

"I understood that they were having sex in the bushes and not that they were doing something else?!"

"Of course they're having sex, not making love. That's something completely different."

Now Eros was perplexed because he wasn't sure he understood what Filito was saying.

"Where I come from, we say that you're making love when you have sex with someone that you really care about. But when we have sex only to satisfy sexual desire, then we just call it having sex," explained Eros.

Filito suddenly broke out in laughter:

"You're mentally frustrated! You know how to make a plate that sees the truth, but you don't make a difference between having sex and making love?!"

Then he got serious again:

"You didn't happen to think that Sard also wanted to make love to me?"

Now Filito started laughing so hard that the tears poured down his face. Everyone turned toward him with surprise.

"I don't know if you'd laugh so hard if you knew how people would take what you say in my world," said Eros, shaking his head.

"Now all you have to do is tell me that people in your world walk on the Moon," snickered Filito.

"Not everyone, but some of them have actually been there," replied Eros seriously.

"Do you really mean it?"

"It's the absolute truth!"

"Our Parthen has also been on the Moon, but some people don't believe him. He even brought back a rock and, because nobody's managed to find anything like it so far, most people believe him."

"I saw a rock from the Moon in a museum once, and I'd be very interested to know how Parthen got to the Moon!"

"He doesn't even know himself. He went to look for a medicine for infertility... We were worried because no children had been born in the camp that year. Parthen, who's also our healer, went out to find a magical cure. Then he returned with that rock and the women soon got pregnant. Since then the Moon has been a symbol of fertility and plenty."

"Interesting story!"

"Come on, I'll show you the rock from the Moon," he said and started shouting in front of the temple:

"Eros' people have been on the Moon!"

And the people started coming out of their homes to satisfy their curiosity.

"Parthen, bring your rock! Eros knows people who've been on the Moon."

"I never said I knew them," objected Eros.

"But you did see rocks from the Moon, so you'll know whether Parthen's rock came from there too."

The medicine man came out. He was in a bad mood because of the noisy crowd in front of the door of the temple.

"Bring out the rock, Parthen! Eros will tell us if it's really from the Moon!"

Parthen blanched:

"Eros is the harbinger of misfortune. Chase him out of the camp before he thrusts us into suffering."

"Bring out the rock, bring out the rock!" the people started shouting.

"The Moon rock is a holy thing, it has already shown its power—or have you forgotten that it saved us from infertility."

"That's right. What if those times come back?! We'd better leave the rock in peace," said a woman.

"What's all the ruckus?" said King Aragen, decisively interrupting the argument.
"Eros has seen rocks from the Moon and he can tell us if Parthen's rock really came from there," said Filito.

"But the rock doesn't have to prove anything... Eros is the harbinger of misfortune, he mustn't touch the rock, heed my words," warned Parthen with fear.

"The truth is what we're striving for and so it can't hurt us. If Coincidence sent Eros to our camp, this happened for a reason, so he should see the rock. If he doesn't touch it, you'll be satisfied, Parthen, and the people too," declared the king.

"But..."

"Bring the rock, Parthen," Aragen repeated in a calm voice.

Parthen's knees started shaking as he climbed the steps of the temple. He returned with a scarlet bundle containing the rock. He hesitated for a while and then, when he saw Aragen's decisive look, he unwrapped the cloth.

Eros drew closer and carefully looked at the fist-sized irregularly shaped rock that was chipped on one end. He noticed a thin light-brown crust around a darker center filled with bright stony and glassy grains of various sizes."

The people stood silently and held their breath. Complete silence reigned.

"This is lunite, a rock from the Moon," Eros said eventually.

There was a hubbub among the people. Parthen stood motionless, a few drops of sweat trickling down his brow.

"You've heard the truth, now go home. Eros, please come with me," said King Aragen.

"I told you so," said a woman in the crowd.

Aragen sat deep in thought on the terrace above the wall. It offered a beautiful view of the creek below the hill and the entire plain stretching out on the other side.

"I like the way you answered."

"I didn't lie," said Eros.

"But we both know that Parthen's never been on the Moon."

"Probably not, but nobody asked me that."

"The rock was discovered millennia ago when our world was still covered by water."

"How did they find it if it was covered by water?"

"It was so cold that the sea completely froze over. The legend goes that our ancestors came from very far away at that time, along with the animals. They were driven here by a harsh winter and endless hunger. They walked for a long time and, because they didn't find land, they thought that they were doomed. Then, in the middle of the whiteness, they saw a rock in the moonlight and understood it as a sign from Coincidence. They continued their journey and soon came upon the mountains."

"So that's why you call it the Moon rock! But it really is from the Moon—it's a lunar meteorite that fell from the Moon!"

"I told you that Coincidence had sent us a sign," smiled Aragen.

"But why do people think that Parthen brought it?"

"People tend to forget and so they also forgot about the rock, which was in the temple the entire time. Because Parthen's our healer, everyone expected him to find a solution during the time of infertility. It was then that he remembered the rock and Coincidence arranged for the women to start bearing children again."

"And today coincidence wanted me not to reveal his lie because the poor guy was shaking all over."

"People don't see the truth and so they need something they can believe in even if it's an ordinary rock. Problems appear when they start doubting in it."

"But that's also Parthen's fault because he doesn't see the truth, but pretends that he does."

"As long as Coincidence helps him, there's nothing wrong."

"So coincidence doesn't worry about people having to know the truth; it's only interested in the path. That's why you suggested so calmly that he should bring the rock. The medicine man was talking about coincidence, but he doesn't believe in it himself. Whereas you were in no doubt because you trust it!"

King Aragen didn't say anything.

"How do you know when coincidence shows you true love?" asked Eros.

Aragen looked into his eyes in surprise:

"You heard the story about Sarkene and me!"

"Yes. I have to admit Sarkene's the most attractive creature that I've met since I was disappointed in love. What the two of you have is the most precious thing that can ever happen to a person."

"The truth is her eyes. Sarkene's a woman with no pretense and that's why she's o attractive."

"But you were in love with another before."

"Yes, every woman yearns to be queen and so some of them are even willing to put on a mask of truth. This is the most deceptive of all... Asari wore a beautiful mask and if Coincidence had not revealed her, I would've been destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

"Yes. If the truth doesn't destroy a lie, then a lie destroys the truth."

"Tell me the story about Asari!"

"Many years ago, when I was still a young man, Sard and I were inseparable friends. We went hunting together and I was convinced that nothing in the world could shake our friendship. But one day we fell in love with the same girl."

"Asari!"

"Our love for her blinded us so much that our friendship soon ended and Asari chose me. She was the first woman that I ever loved and it all seemed like I'd found happiness. But she wasn't satisfied with my boundless love because deep inside herself she knew that she had blinded me with her mask of truth. And anyone that doubts himself keeps seeking confirmation that his mask of truth is convincing enough and so Asari secretly seduced Sard too."

"And how did you find out that Asari wasn't your true love?"

"Love that doesn't see only you, but looks around, is not true because finding true love doesn't mean choosing the best you can find, but finding the person that Coincidence has intended for you."

"But how could coincidence even allow you to fall in love with Asari?"

"Coincidence had a plan that I wasn't aware of before. It brought me to a realization that was very important to me. I discovered my nature and realized that not everyone thinks the same way I do. I also got to know envy, which I had never felt before, and realized that I actually had fewer friends than I had believed. True friends don't begrudge you your happiness and they will do anything to help you find the path to it. I'll never be able to understand how some people could find satisfaction in my unhappiness."

"Those were difficult times for you."

"That was one of the bitterest recognitions I had in my life. I resisted for a long time and looked for answers because I couldn't bear to look truth in the eye. It was only after we had separated and Asari was already together with Sard a quarter of a Moon later that I learned the truth and there was no way back anymore. I kept asking myself what I'd done wrong, for Coincidence to send me such unhappiness, and I received an answer."

"Everyone expected that you would hate Sard, but you weren't able to!"

"That's right, Coincidence was deciding who would be the new king because the previous one was already very old. It tested Sard and me during a hunt. Asari didn't love him the way he wanted to either, and so he thought it was my fault and that she actually still loved me. And so one night he drew his bow and shot towards me. He was the best shot and his arrow never missed. But just at that moment an enormous bear suddenly jumped out of the dark and the arrow hit him right between the eyes. Sard pulled out another arrow and shot at me again, but a wolf leapt out of the dark and it also hit him right between the eyes."

"What a coincidence!"

"Then Sard pulled out a third arrow and took a few steps toward me so that he wouldn't miss again. But he stepped on a hedgehog and fell. Then the hunters tied him up, but in his anger he grabbed a knife and stabbed the poor creature."

"And so these three animals became the symbol of your power and you still wear them."

"When we got back to the camp, we learned that the king had died that very night. The people realized that Coincidence had chosen me as his successor."

"And what happened to Sard?"

"As the new king I had to judge him for his crime."

"And what was your judgment?"

"I hugged him and forgave him. He showed me the way so that I could learn the truth. Later I appointed him the leader of the hunters because he was the best shot."

"In the end coincidence rewarded you—you became king. Those that envied you learned a lesson and coincidence punished Sard instead of you because he's still living with Asari. But one would expect her to be punished for her adultery too."

"Coincidence never does what we expect because then it wouldn't be Coincidence!"

"Did you expect her to be punished?" asked Eros with surprise.

"For a long time I believed that Coincidence would send a lesson her way too."

"So it taught you that it's also not right to expect coincidence to arrange things the way you imagined," smiled Eros.

"That's also the truth."

"And what about Sarkene?"

"When I forgave Asari in my heart and forgot about her, Coincidence sent me the right queen. It happened one day, when a group of people whose camp had been burned by the Torreans were walking past. I stepped through the gate naked, covered in mud and without my raiment because I wanted to bathe in the creek. So Sarkene didn't know that I was the king and I didn't know that she was the daughter of their murdered king. It was love at first sight. Soon she bore me a son Tizano and a daughter Sa."

"Don't the children live in the palace?"

"Of course they do... Sa went to pick flowers and Tizano's hunting and he'll return when the Moon's in the last quarter."

"I've also got to get going," said Eros. "Thanks for your company."

On the way to Filito's hut he noticed a girl carrying a basket of blooming flowers in her arms. Sa was as beautiful as her mother, but there was sadness in her eyes.

"Where've you been so long?" asked Filito.

"You come back to the camp before the hunters just once, and you're already talking like a woman," smiled Eros.

"At least now you know why the men who don't go hunting are so much like them."

"Yes, I really did notice that many of them move, dress and even talk like women."

"Because they're competing with them for the men! And so they're trying to be as much like the women as possible."

"And who do the men love?"

"Well, hunters... They wouldn't even want to hang out with other men in the camp."

"Do you hunters also love them?"

"No, we hunters do it with them. Because we don't love men after all."

"So there's a big difference between making love and doing it?"

"Of course, and what a difference it is! When you do it with someone, you're actually just enjoying your own idea of yourself—how good, attractive, desirable, and successful you are. But that's still doesn't mean that you don't want this pleasure. But when you make love, your pleasure means yearning for the person that you carry in your heart. So you can only make love with one person, but you can do it with many."

"Does that mean that love is selfish?"

"Just the opposite. When you're doing it, you're satisfying another's desire, but you're still doing it for your own pleasure because you're enjoying your own idea about yourself as someone that satisfies someone else and that's extremely selfish. But when you make love you give part of yourself in the purest form because you're giving the truth—about yearning for the person you love."

Eros was amazed:

"I've never heard such a beautiful description of love."

"Coincidence, please help Eros' world," said Filito, shaking his head.

"But how is it possible that nobody in my world knows this?"

"Everything must be wrong in your world!"

"You're not far from the truth."

The new day brought rain and the people hid inside their homes. Eros listened to the rain drops striking the taut skins and trickling over the edge of the stone wall. Eo the tomcat was lying in a corner on a pile of wool, purring. Ro the rat had brought a walnut from somewhere and was gnawing on the shell to get to the meat.

"You still haven't told me how you discovered the blue glaze for the pottery," said Eros.

"By coincidence! One day I was honing the blade of a bronze dagger with white sand over a clay pot. After that there was a dark stain on that part of the pot, and when I heated it on the coals the stain turned into a sky-blue glaze. But you can't give away the secret. The blue pots will only fetch a high price as long as the others don't know how to make them."

"You've got my word."

"A long time ago we also discovered the process of making pottery in our camp. This secret brought us a lot of wealth and so we guarded it like the apple of our eye. But one day an apprentice potter fell in love with a woman from the neighboring camp and blabbed our secret to her, and now the whole world knows it."

"One of your people invented pottery?"

"It was discovered by the biggest moron in the camp! I'll tell you the story as it's been handed down from generation to generation... Long ago, when our ancestors came to this area across the water, they still didn't know about pottery. They carried water in animal bladders and wooden tubs. But by Coincidence, one day a young man that everyone used to make fun of because of his dull wits was trying to scoop water out of a pond with a grass basket. Every time he lifted up the basket, all the water ran out of it. The people were laughing at his stupidity but the young man didn't give up. He wondered why the water ran out of the basket but didn't run out of the pond, which was also surrounded by dry grass. And so he took mud from the bottom of the pond and rubbed it into the woven grass, and the basket held the water... When he came back home that evening, nobody could believe their eyes because there was water in his basket made of grass... The people started to admire the young man, and so one night an envious man threw his basket in the fire to burn it up. The fire burned the grass, but pottery remained. But it wasn't like it was before—it wasn't fragile and crumbly anymore, but hard and firm... That's how Coincidence taught people that you should respect everyone even if they seem stupid to you."

"Coincidence rewards persistence and punishes envy and jealousy. And that's also one of the morals of this story."

"It's the truth," agreed Filito.

Eros smiled:

"It's interesting that, among all the stories about the invention of pottery in our world, I've never heard your story."

"Its moral is an important message for anyone seeking happiness."

"I promise that I'll share it with the world!" replied Eros.

"I'm sure that Coincidence will help you do that."

The rain had stopped and the last quarter of the Moon came out from behind the clouds. Although the night was peaceful and quiet, many people in the camp couldn't sleep. They tossed about restlessly on their litters and kept looking through the gate to see if it was morning yet. The camp was already busy before first light.

When Eros stepped through the gate after a good night's sleep, everything was tidy, the paths were swept and the houses were decorated as though for a holiday. The women were hurrying with baskets and pots, some of them were carrying their reed mats to the creek and others were already drying them on the roofs of their houses.

"What's going on," asked Eros.

"The last quarter of the Moon is the sign that the hunters will return today," replied Filito.

"Do they return on a specific day?"

"That's the way it's always been. We know this from our myths and legends."

"Is there any other explanation for this?"

"Of course!"

"Do you hunt when the Moon is full?"

"The only thing you can hit during a full Moon is Parthen," smirked Filito.

"It seemed to make sense to me—if you leave during the first quarter and return during the last, that means that your hunting is somehow connected with the full Moon."

"I didn't say that it isn't connected, but you can hardly hunt down anything at night. The best time for hunting is when it's getting dark or before sunrise. That's when the game goes for water and is easy quarry... When we're hunting, we often lie in wait motionless and in complete silence. When the animals appear, even a careless motion or the slightest sound can frighten them and drive them away... A good hunting ground can sometimes be several days' walk from the camp, and because we hunt in the mornings and evenings, and it's too hot to walk during the day, we only move at night. And at night you can only see the path when the Moon's shining... best of all when the Moon is full, and so we can also walk great distances then, and during the day we can rest in peace in the shade."

"But how do you know when you have to come back?"

"We usually move away from the camp while the Moon is waxing. When it starts to wane, we start coming back. If you go hunting all of your life, you develop a feeling for how far away from home you are."

"When we met, you said that the camp was three and a half days' walk, and that's exactly how long it took us to reach it."

The smell of food was wafting from the hearths and Eros felt hunger gnawing at him.

Under an old olive tree two men were fighting over Eros' mirror.

"Why are you fighting... can't you come to an agreement?"

"I came up with the idea that I could use your plate to make myself look nice for the hunters' arrival, but he took the plate."

"How about this: invite Filito and me to dinner, and the one who cooks better gets to keep it for today," suggested Eros.

"My fish stew can't be beat, so you might as well just give me the plate now," said the first one.

"Nothing's going to come of that! I've made desserts using my grandma's recipe and you can take your stew and shove it," responded the second one.

"We'll be happy to sample both," said Filito, taking the mirror.

Soon he and Eros were so full that they couldn't even move. They flopped down in front of the house, holding their stomachs, while the two men stared at them without moving.

"I say the stew," suggested Filito.

"And me the dessert... So they'll draw straws and the one that gets the longer one will have the mirror first," suggested Eros.

The two men drew straws and the one who got the longer straw grabbed the mirror victoriously. Then each one went about his own business.

Excitement could be felt in the camp in the middle of the day. The women and men had washed up and made themselves look nice; they put on their best clothes and jewelry and then impatiently stood around between the houses.

Towards evening they finally spotted a group of hunters in the distance and they all ran towards the gate of the camp. The first one to enter was Sard and Asari greeted him first. He was walking upright and proud, but he was the only one that had come back with empty hands.

Behind him three men were carrying only weapons.

"Those are Sard's helpers, his most faithful men," explained Filito.

Next the archers came in, armed with bows, arrows, spears, machetes, daggers, slingshots, blowguns, and other devices the like of which Eros had never seen before. A few women ran to their men and fell into their embrace.

"Every hunter has a function in the group, and what they do is strictly defined by their role," said Filito.

"So what's your job?"

"I fix broken arrows and make arrowheads from obsidian."

Now broad-shouldered men with strong muscles came in. Each one had a pair of rings hanging over his shoulders; the rings came together on his back and served as shoulder straps from which wild pigs were hanging with their snouts bound, so that it looked like they had bitten into the rings with their enormous tusks and were now hanging from them. Each porter was carrying one animal and had both hands free. The biggest animals were carried on wooden poles, usually in pairs.

"Most of them are porters... their job is to carry the game to the camp. The hunters have to catch enough game to last for several weeks," said Filito.

Eros noticed that the hunters' physiques differed from those of the men he had met in the camp. Most of them were well-built— medium tall and muscular—but the men in the camp were either taller or much shorter, their faces were narrower, and their bodies were not as hairy as the hunters'. And they were either bony or fat, but none of them were muscular.

None of the hunters had any extra fat on them or even a large belly. Only the porters were somewhat stockier and even more muscular, whereas the archers were more slim and wiry. The hunters' faces were broader, and their cheekbones and chins were more prominent than the others'.

The only two men that Eros had seen in the camp with muscular builds were Aragen and Filito.

The porters laid the quarry in the temple and Parthen marked the number and size of the animals on a wooden tablet.

Sard stepped up to Aragen and bowed:

"Greetings, King Aragen."

"Have you all returned?"

"Filito left the group."

"Tomorrow I'll call a council so that we can resolve the dispute between the two of you," replied the king.

"I understand," said Sard, bowing his head, and then he headed off towards his house.

Then the hunters came and also bowed to Aragen.

After the last hunter had greeted the king, they all dispersed about the camp.

"How come Aragen's still in the temple?" asked Eros.

"Not everyone has returned yet," replied Filito.

It was late and stars were shining in the sky, when the gate of the camp opened again. The he-women came in with much less noise and, although their group was much smaller than the men's, they also brought a large of pile of game to the temple.

They greeted the king and silently returned to their homes. Now Aragen could go back to the palace.

The next day everything revolved around dividing up the game. Parthen had made a list and he was calling people into the temple. The people went up the steps and returned in full view of the others with the game that King Aragen had allotted them. This way everyone could see that everything had been divided fairly. Filito also received some meat as well as a double portion for his guest.

The camp was busy. In the afternoon, when the sun had stopped beating down, people started gathering near the temple. Filito and Sard knelt in front of a large rock that King Aragen was standing on.

"We've gathered before the rock of justice to resolve the dispute between Sard and Filito. Sard is accused of having shot an arrow at Filito with his own hand, thereby endangering the life of a member of our camp. So he should first present his case to the people gathered here," Aragen announced and sat down on the rock.

"The king chose me to the leader of the hunters, which means that the men that go hunting in the group must obey and follow my orders. Filito didn't do what I said and so he sullied my honor because he showed disrespect, disobedience, and contempt for me. That's treachery!" said Sard.

"Now tell us your version of the story, Filito," ordered the king.

"Sard's our leader, but he abuses his authority and ignores the rights of the hunters. He has command over the hunt and the decisions and orders connected to it, but having sex is a matter of an individual's free choice... Sard wanted to do it with me to show me his dominance and, because I resisted, he wanted to kill me with the arrow that he shot at me."

"Sard?" said the king, turning to the leader of the hunters.

"That's a lie. I only wanted to scare him with the arrow. If I had wanted to kill him, I wouldn't have missed! Besides, when I want to do it with somebody, I'm paying him an honor and not displaying my dominance."

"Filito?"

"But I didn't want you to pay me an honor."

"But everyone wants to do it with me!"

"His arrogance knows no bounds. Maybe he doesn't distinguish between 'they want' and 'they're afraid,'" protested Filito.

"That's an insult. Let all the hunters stand up that want to do it with me, and you'll see the truth!"

The leader of the hunters sized the people up with a piercing look, but only his three helpers stood up. Sard couldn't believe it. He was disappointed and hurt.

"Where's your loyalty?" he roared, pointing at a young man in the first row.

"You're rough and you make it hurt, Sard," said the archer next to the frightened young man.

"Traitors! Have you forgotten who led you through dangers, saved your lives, and taught you about nature? You wouldn't even know how to strap on a pig. Let alone be guided by the stars. Which one of you has ever been beyond the mountains and seen the world on the other side of the sea? You lazy asses would flop down behind the first bush and wouldn't even hit a deer if it tripped over your foot," Sard went on in agitation.

"Silence! Let each one say only what he is asked. Filito, did you do it with Sard?"

"Of course."

"Then how did you show him you didn't want it anymore?"

"When he called me to come into his tent, I didn't respond."

"Sard's the leader of the hunters and he can call you into his tent for many reasons!"

"He's not so stupid that he wouldn't know why I didn't come."

"You should've followed the order. Because you only anticipated what it could be and didn't respond to his summons, you betrayed his command and disobeyed the leader of the hunt. You also misled Sard because you had never told him that you didn't want to do it with him."

"That's right! The traitor deserves to be punished! Who says I called him into my tent to do it with him," said Sard.

"Silence, Sard! What Filito says is also true—you abused your authority. As the leader of the hunt you should've determined why Filito disobeyed your order. Then you would've found out that he didn't want to do it with you, and you could've explained to him that you had called him into the tent because of the hunt. Instead you accused him of treachery and shot an arrow at him. Even though it didn't hit him, you endangered his life, acted irresponsibly, and set a bad example. So I'll punish both of you! Filito, your punishment is to clean the temple until the first quarter Moon and to fix the roof. Sard, do you agree with Filito's punishment?"

"Sure, he might as well stay in the temple."

"Filito's punishment is therefore confirmed. Sard, you are relieved of your command for three months. You will take part in the hunt as a porter, so that you can be accepted by the group again. Filito, do you agree with Sard's punishment?"

"I'll exercise my right to forgive him. I suggest that Sard not be punished."

Surprise rippled through the crowd.

"A punishment has been pronounced on Sard, but it shall not be carried out because of Filito's forgiveness. Sard shall therefore remain the leader of the hunters and the dispute is resolved," concluded King Aragen.

The people stood up, but Sard headed off sheepishly toward his hut without looking at anyone.

"That was very noble of you," said Eros, looking Filito in the eye.

"We cleared things up. I don't know what I would've gained from his punishment."

"But he confirmed the punishment that was pronounced against you!"

"That's his decision. But my punishment was just because it was pronounced by the king."

"That means there's no revenge in you, but wisdom and kindness instead."

"My little rat Ro says that the punishment was deserved and that I shouldn't argue with the people I hang out with while I'm hunting. And so I forgave him."

"Do you think Sard's punishment wasn't fair?"

"His punishment was also fair, but justice was already served when the king told him that he had exceeded his authority. I'm sure he'll behave differently from now on and so I forgave him. And so there was no need for a punishment."

"What if the arrow had hit you?"

"Whoever does something unacceptable to our society just because he feels like it is exiled from the camp. Whoever kills someone is expelled forever without mercy."

The people started making a fire in the middle of the camp and then they brought in five wild boars, skewered them on spits and started turning them over the coals. The hunters didn't have to work—they strolled around the camp and traded the skins left over from the hunt. But the he-women were busy and even doing some of the hard work. When everything was prepared for supper, the people sat in their places and started eating.

"How come nobody's sitting next to the king?" asked Eros with surprise.

"That's Sard's place but it looks like he doesn't feel like eating today."

Aragen got involved in a conversation with Parthen and the absence of the leader of the hunters didn't seem to bother anyone except Asari.

"Who are the men hanging out with the he-women?" asked Eros.

"Momma's boys."

"Do you make fun of them?"

"Make fun of them? No way; you could say they're the bravest men in the camp. If it weren't for them, life with the he-women would've been unbearable. The momma's boys are men who sacrifice their masculinity for the sake of peace in the camp. Why would we make fun of them?"

"Even though the jobs in the camp are divided up so differently, respect reigns among you and you accept everyone as your equal. You've even accepted me, a stranger, like a member of your camp."

"How could it be any other way? Look at the fish you're eating. What's more important: the water it lived in, the spear that hit it, or the fire it was cooked on? Take away one of those and you'll be hungry. We have different jobs, but all of them are important, otherwise Coincidence wouldn't have sent them to us. It also sent you; first to save my life, and now to ask me stupid questions," smiled Filito, shoving a piece of meat into Ro's hand-like paws.

"Nonetheless some people have special rights. For example the king lives in the palace, which is much roomier than a hut. Wouldn't anyone want to be in his shoes?"

"The king has to live in a palace that's somewhat set apart from the other huts because he stays in the camp all the time, whereas we hunters only live here half the time. He needs more space because sometimes he also receives kings or other guests from neighboring camps that trade with us... Why would anyone else want to be in someone else's shoes? After all, everyone can choose for himself what to do."

"But what if someone wanted to be king—that's not possible, is it?!"

"Anyone can be king if Coincidence chooses him for that job. Being the king doesn't only mean that you live in the palace and have a good time. He has difficult and important tasks. It's true that everyone admires him, but nobody would want to be in his position because there's no greater misfortune than to become something of your own doing that Coincidence didn't intend for you. Everyone can be happy only if they do what they were created for by Coincidence. So we don't long to be someone else and we respect everyone."

"But you're also competitive, right?"

"Of course, but in a way, if there's not too much of it, it's useful for social progress and development because it promotes creativity and work."

"What about envy?"

"Envy is like competitiveness, only that envious people don't believe that they can also be happy. So, instead of working for their own happiness, they don't want others to be happy. But there are few things that Coincidence despises as much as envy, and so it punishes envious people severely."

"Like in that story about the young man who discovered pottery!"

"And with Sard, who envied Aragen over Asari!"

"What else does Coincidence despise besides envy?"

"It despises all violence and injustice, anger and vengefulness, pride and arrogance, greed and gluttony, dishonesty and selfishness, laziness, excessive competitiveness, and even despair!"

"Why despair?"

"Because despair makes us despise Coincidence too! Only people that don't trust Coincidence can despair."

"So Coincidence despises and punishes anyone that looks for happiness at the expense of others?"

"Yes. And those who despair are the only ones punished because they're not looking for happiness at all," smiled Filito.

"But they undermine other people's happiness because their happiness must be connected with happiness of others!"

"I'd say that Coincidence punishes anyone that denies Coincidence in what he thinks and does."

"That's worth remembering. Your coincidence is just like Life," said Eros after a while.

"So life's also Coincidence!" concluded Filito.

Meanwhile the people had cleaned up the leftovers from the dinner and were making room for the performance.

Eros watched the dancers, lost in thought. Filito's world seemed so simple to him, but nonetheless sensible and wise. It was unusual, but also pure and true.

A shadow appeared out of the dark.

"Sard, Sard..." cried out Asari in despair. "... Sard has left the camp," sobbed the miserable woman in tears.

"Maybe he wanted some peace and quiet and so he went for a walk to think about what he had done," said Aragen.

"No, he took all of his things, including those he never takes along when hunting. He even took the plans for his boat."

"He always said that one day he's sail away on the open sea, so far that he could see what was at the end. Everyone thought this was only a dream of his," said a gray-haired hunter.

"But what will I do now, alone and abandoned?" sobbed Asari.

"Let's go after him," said Filito.

"No. Sard decides on his path himself and we have to respect his will. Coincidence will guide him," said Aragen.

"That's so mean, how can you say something like that? Everything's your fault. You're jealous of him," Asari yelled at him.

"Your words are the words of despair. You're not alone, Asari; we're all here and we all hope that Sard comes back," said the king in a level voice.

"So why don't you let us go after him?"

"Well, he wasn't kidnapped! And he didn't leave under the misunderstanding that he wasn't welcome here."

"Let's hope he comes back soon," said Sarkene, hugging Asari so she could cry on her shoulder.

The morning was gloomy. Sard was still nowhere to be seen. The people were wondering if he would ever come back. Some were worried what would happen to the hunters because Sard was the leader of the group. The others were convinced that he just needed some time to himself and would soon rejoin them.

Asari went to the temple.

"Parthen, you're a clairvoyant; tell me where Sard is and when he'll come back."

"Only the Moon rock can tell us... it can see much further than our thoughts!"

Parthen went into the temple and brought back the bundle of scarlet cloth. He unwrapped the rock and placed his hand on it. He murmured some unintelligible words for a while and then he said:

"The rock says that he's wandering somewhere far away in the dark, that he's not happy and his thoughts are restless. This is the misfortune that the stranger brought upon us. If we don't rid ourselves of him in time, an even greater misfortune will befall us. I warned you. Why didn't you listen?!"

"Will Sard come back?"

"Maybe, but only if there's no more evil in the camp."

"What do you mean, maybe? And what kind of evil are you talking about?"

"I don't know... that's what the rock says, I'm only saying what I hear," replied Parthen and took the rock back into the temple.

Asari stood on the steps for a while longer, and then headed toward the wall.

Aragen appeared in the temple:

"Are you abusing that rock again?!"

"The rock sees the truth," replied Parthen, lowering his eyes to avoid the king's gaze.

"It can see exactly as far as you walked on the moon!"

"The stranger himself said that the rock was from the Moon. And don't forget that it once miraculously cured infertility in our camp."

"Do you really want me to ask you about your lunar walks in front of everyone?"

"I've got a bad feeling. I had a horrible dream, in which a great misfortune had befallen our camp."

"Of course you've been having nightmares—after all, Eros is talking about the truth that you pretend to know. The only misfortune that will befall our camp will be yours if you don't watch what you say," said Aragen.

Parthen silently watched the king descend the steps of the temple.

In the afternoon, the people brought bows, arrows, and spears with obsidian tips. They placed a few straw targets in front of the wall on the other side of the temple and marked the shooting distance.

Eros watched what was going on in the square with interest.

"What are they up to?"

"The young men will be accepted among the hunters. They have to show their skills for this. If they do well, they can take part in the hunt for the first time in their lives," explained Filito.

"Who makes the decision?"

"That's the job of Sard and his helpers, but if Sard isn't back by the beginning of the test then the king will decide."

A few young men practiced throwing spears and shooting bows, while the others watched them and flexed the muscles in their arms to look like real hunters. Their fathers gave them last-minute advice and their mothers watched them proudly.

"How many of them will be accepted?" asked Eros.

"Everyone that makes it. The next test will be in exactly twelve moons."

Eros noticed that the young men were very respectful towards one another. A sense of competition was in the air, but even more camaraderie and friendship. The parents weren't only involved with their own sons, but were also encouraging their sons' friends. A lot of the fathers were hunters themselves, and so the young men looked up to them as role models. They secretly watched their every movement and tried to imitate them.

The king finally arrived wearing his regalia and a dozen young men, completely naked, arrayed themselves in front of him in a straight line. Aragen approached each one and slapped his palm. As he did this, Sard's first helper called out their names and read the tasks that they had selected.

The beating of the drums announced the beginning of the test.

Eros was surprised how skillful the young men were. Their spears hit the targets from far away and they shot their arrows quickly, as though their lives depended on it. They also did well at the obstacle course, climbing, jumping, and weightlifting.

The winners were selected and a large fire was made in the middle of the camp. When the flames had died down, they spread out the coals.

"This is the final test. The young men have to conquer fear. Those that fail can't joint the hunters," explained Filito.

The group of young men formed a line and the beating of the drums put them into a trance. Then one after another they calmly walked across the coals.

Eros noticed the unusually sincere and happy smiles on the faces of the young men that had passed the test. It was a different kind of smile; not like people have when they achieve some other kind of victory or when they're laughing with friends.

At the end, the young men knelt before the king and pledged loyalty to him. When Aragen ceremonially presented new bows and gear with rings to the chosen ones, the mothers' eyes grew moist and the fathers were beaming with pride.

This was followed by a great celebration. Even Parthen showed up and Aragen invited him to sit next to him. Then he also invited Eros and Filito. The medicine man was unhappy about this because he was aware that the king knew that he didn't like the stranger.

It was the new moon and the night was dark, so they lit torches.

"If Sard doesn't show up, we'll have to choose a new leader of the hunters," said Aragen.

"You're not thinking of him, are you?" said Parthen, pointing at Eros.

"No, Parthen, I was thinking of you," joked the king.

The medicine man didn't feel like laughing, but Aragen roared with laughter:

"You'd hurt yourself on your bow even before you drew it. Or the animals would collapse from exhaustion after running around your belly."

"Go ahead and laugh, you're staring your own misfortune in the eye and you don't see it!"

"Eros, will you join us on the hunt in the first quarter of the Moon?" asked Filito.

"I don't think I could bear to see animals dying," replied Eros.

"But only their flesh dies and the animals are transformed into Coincidence," replied Aragen.

"And then what happens to them?"

"They return."

"Do they return as animals?"

"Or also as people. Coincidence doesn't discriminate between living creatures."

"So you know about the continuum of Life?!"

"How could it be any different?" asked Aragen with surprise.

"In my world people have different opinions about this. Some of them believe life continues after death, but they work and live as though their last day will be the end of everything. Other people don't believe that life continues after death, but they live as though they'll live forever."

"Those are cursed words; I warn you not to trust him," said Parthen.

The king had finally had enough of the medicine man's impoliteness to the guest:

"Why don't you tell us something about your visit to the Moon, Parthen?"

This put him in a quandary. He regretted that he hadn't kept his mouth shut:

"I don't remember any details anymore because that was a long time ago."

"But you can't have forgotten everything. Experiences like that make a long-lasting impression on a person," insisted the king.

"I remember I was walking through a desert, until I reached a great sea."

"A sea? That's a lie because it would run off of the Moon, since we can all see that it's round," smiled Filito.

"The Moon's very far away. It's much larger up close. Maybe the sea was on the top, just like a lake on the plateau," said Parthen, defending himself.

"Let Eros tell us about seas on the Moon... he knows people that have been there," suggested Filito.

The medicine man turned pale. Eros saw his round eyes grow bigger.

"Parthen's right. There are many seas on the Moon, even oceans, as well as bays and lakes. That's what they call the places where lava has hardened."

"Yes, yes, of course! A sea of hardened lava that can't run off of the Moon," repeated Parthen quickly.

"The seas also have names!"

"Yes, yes, that's right! Of course they have names," grunted the medicine man.

"But do you know them?" asked Eros with surprise.

"I can't possibly know your names for them because the seas were named by people from your camp. You also didn't know the name of our sea!"

"Of course, that's a reasonable answer," agreed Eros.

"What kind of names did you give them?" asked Filito.

"Mare Fecunditatis is the Sea of Fertility..."

"... well, what did I tell you? That's where my rock came from!" said the medicine man, interrupting Eros.

"Please let him finish," replied Aragen.

"Mare Ingenii is the Sea of Cleverness, Lacus Luxuriae is the Lake of Luxury, Sinus Iridum is the Bay of Rainbows, Mare Tranquillitatis is the Sea of Tranquility, Lacus Oblivionis is the Lake of Forgetfulness, Lacus Spei is the Lake of Hope, and Sinus Amoris is the Bay of Love."

"How nice... I'd like to learn these names!" exclaimed Sa, King Aragen and Queen Sarkene's daughter. For the first time Eros couldn't see any sadness in her eyes.

"Of course," said Eros, once more listing the names that he could remember.

"See, everything the stranger says is true," smiled the medicine man with satisfaction.

"But a while ago you warned us that he shouldn't be trusted," said Aragen with surprise.

"It wasn't me; I only said what the Moon rock says!"

"If that's so, then let's ask it a riddle and we'll see how much wisdom's in it," suggested the king.

"The rock knows that I brought it here and so it only talks to me!"

"But you can ask it for an answer. We'll just ask you the question," insisted Aragen.

"You shouldn't test the rock. It could be insulted and take revenge on us."

"But what if you asked it for advice? Would it also be insulted then?" asked Sa.

"That could work."

"So ask it how you can get rid of some extra pounds. You yourself were complaining that your back hurts all the time because your belly's too big," suggested Sa.

"I told you she gets her brains from her mother and beauty from me," smiled Aragen, kissing Sarkene.

"Tomorrow I'll tell you what the rock advised me, and remember, the only thing remaining of my fat will be your fat heads!" said Parthen, leaning on his staff and hobbled off towards the temple.

"I don't remember him ever not finishing his meal," mused Aragen out loud. "He usually picks things off of everyone else's plates!"

"Could your plate tell him how to lose weight?" asked Sarkene.

"My mirror? No way; it could only show him how he is," smiled Eros.

"Then how we will know if you bring us the truth?"

"I haven't thought about that. Let's leave it to Coincidence to lead us to the answer."

That evening the people went into their huts early and their faces were smiling more than usual. They were touching each other a lot and their eyes were filled with passion and lust.

Eros and Filito were soon left alone. Sighs could be heard through the thin walls made of taut skins. First long and deep, and then quicker and shallower. Nobody paid any mind to the others, and as though passion had overcome them all, happiness reigned in the camp. The smell of love was in the air.

"Don't you look at me like that, Filito! Once you know how it is to love, you don't want to ever just do it again."

"How long will I have to wait until Coincidence sends love to me?"

"No more and no less than necessary. Does your heart skip a beat when you look at any of the girls?"

"It did for many and many hearts have also skipped a beat because of me, but Coincidence's always decided that this still wasn't true love."

"Aren't you supposed to fight for love?"

"But I did fight—and how! I did everything, but still it wasn't enough. They wanted to change me, and when they did they still weren't satisfied... Every great love story experiences disappointment, but that's only a test by Coincidence. If a boy and girl don't get through this, it's a sign that this isn't true love yet, but only preparation for it," replied Filito.

"Problems happen if a person stops believing in true love after such disappointment. Then he closes himself off and never gives anyone else the opportunity to enter his heart," replied Eros.

"For some people Coincidence sends love right away, but other people have to prepare for it over and over again."

"Life says that only people that accept their world can experience true love."

"Does that mean I haven't accepted myself yet?"

"Maybe! Or maybe Coincidence's just waiting for the right moment or has some other task for you before it sends love your way."

"Who am I?"

"Filito."

A smile appeared on the young man's face:

"Yes, but that's not what I meant."

"You're a very reasonable, talented young man and life has a lot of good things in store for you. Nonetheless your simplicity's like a rainbow bringing peace to children. You're only missing one thing."

Filito looked up at the sky.

"Look how many stars there are, but no Moon in sight!"

"The Moon's also there, and right in front of your nose at that, only that you can't see it."

"Is it mourning someone because it's dressed in black?"

"It's mourning because it can't see the Sun."

"I had a feeling there was something going on between the two of them," smiled Filito.

"What about Sa?"

"Sa? What made you think of her right now?"

"It seemed to me you look at her differently than the other girls."

"Sa would never even notice me."

"Why not?"

"She has a crush on Moron."

"Is that why her eyes are so sad?"

"Yes, Moron enjoys satisfying lots of women."

"He can't be faithful because he doesn't know how to love?"

"Anyone that doesn't know how to love doesn't listen to his own heart. How can anyone be faithful to others if he's not faithful to himself?"

"One day, when Sa swims across the lake of forgetfulness, hope will also return for her to find her own bay of love."

"Yes, if she doesn't drown first," sighed Filito.

First thing in the morning, Parthen emerged victorious from the temple. He was holding a piece of scarlet cloth and was calling out:

"The rock has spoken! The rock has spoken!"

"If you yell like that, we can also use it to shut you up," shouted someone from the crowd that had just gathered under the old olive tree.

"Go ahead and laugh! You'll see—the rock's great and almighty!"

"And what does your almighty rock have to say?" asked Aragen from the terrace.

"It directed me to the sea! I have to bathe in it every day, drink three gulps of seawater, and return to the camp. Then I have to fall on my knees in front of the temple and ask Coincidence to remove the fat from my body. Then I have to bow three times, climb the temple steps on my knees, and there I have to kiss the rock three times every day and thank it for its kindness."

"Did the rock also mention that you ought to eat less?" asked the king with interest.

"Not at all! That would've been clever because anyone can lose weight that way... Now the rock will show you its true power!"

"Well, it's about time, because otherwise you'll burst," replied Aragen.

The medicine man took his staff, put on a large grass hat and headed off towards the sea. He didn't return until evening—he came through the gate all sweaty and panting and forgot to fall down on his knees in front of the temple. He was so tired that he didn't even show up for the camp's supper.

The next day, even though his legs were hurting, stubborn as he was, he headed off towards the sea again, only to return completely pale this time.

"Are you sure that the rock told you about losing weight and not about how to turn into the Moon?" smiled Aragen when he saw the medicine man, shuffling on his knees at the base of the steps, completely gray. The large dark circles under his eyes looked like craters.

"Just wait and see! By the next Moon I'll be as slim as you!"

"Just make sure that the women don't start hanging out in the temple instead of gathering grain and fruit!"

Every night the Moon was fuller, and the people in the camp were wondering who would lead the hunt if Sard didn't return. The king was also wondering about this a lot and eventually said:

"Soon it'll be the first quarter and, because the leader of the hunters hasn't returned, we'll have to choose a new person. I've been thinking about it and I've concluded that Coincidence has chosen a leader. It'll be Filito."

There was a hubbub among the people. Nobody expected such a decision because Filito was considered much too young and inexperienced. Everyone looked at the king with surprise.

"Filito came back to the camp first, before the last quarter, and Sard was the first to leave it, even before the last quarter. Sard shot an arrow at Filito, the symbol of his power. Wasn't it a coincidence that it hit a tree and protected him from death? Then a snare raised Filito towards the sky, but at that very moment Coincidence sent him the stranger to save him from death... There are too many coincidences in the story to overlook the fact that Coincidence has chosen Filito to be the new leader!"

"It's true that the young man showed mercy towards Sard because he forgave him at the trial. We all know that Coincidence loves nothing more than justice and forgiveness. The king sees the truth: the young man has a noble nature," said a gray-haired hunter.

Filito felt like he was dreaming. He wasn't aware of the significance of Aragen's words until the king summoned him, so that the hunters could kneel before their new leader. The ceremony was brief.

"The Moon's growing and so you only have a few days left to choose your first helpers," the king told him and handed him a black bow, the symbol of Coincidence. Then everyone returned to their houses.

"Now I understand why you talk about coincidence!... You can never know what kind of plans it has in store for you;" said Eros.

"I couldn't have even dreamed of anything like this!"

"This is a big day for you. Coincidence has rewarded you because you have a noble nature. See that you stay that way and that you're not blinded by the sense of power."

Filito bowed his head.

"I wish my father could see me now."

"Is he dead?"

"No, he hated Sard so much that one day he left our camp. We never saw him again."

"Was he a hunter too?"

"No, he was a grain harvester! Nobody in the camp understood why he hated Sard so much."

"What about your mother?"

"She died of sorrow before you arrived."

"I'm sure that both of them would've been very proud of you."

"Would you like to be my first helper?"

"Thank you for the honor, but I must decline. I owe Life a favor and so I'm going from house to house, opening the door of happiness for people. Anyhow, I'd make a lousy hunter. I feel too sorry for animals to be able to kill them."

"Kill them? It's only a game."

"I'd rather stay in the camp."

"Aren't you afraid of Premens?"

"Who's Premens?"

"In the entire forest there's no greater and fearsome monster than the ghost Premens! He visits the camp for a few days after the first quarter and possesses young women, turning them into evil demons with claws long as daggers, and with tongues sharper than the hardest obsidian. Woe betide anyone that ends up near him then. Even mighty Aragen has to hide in the darkest corner of his palace at that time."

"And how do the others in the camp survive?"

"The people lock themselves in their houses and the danger's past only when the entire camp's red with blood."

"You mean there's even bloodshed?"

"Of course! Premens tears up women's insides with his claws so much that they still bleed for a few days after he's left their bodies. He only spares those that are pregnant."

"Hey, you're talking about female menstrual cycle. Are all of the women in the camp on the same schedule?"

"All of them, except for the he-women!"

"If the women in the camp bleed when the Moon's full and the hunters are far from home, that means that they are fertile when it's the new moon and the hunters are at home. Because your departures follow the moon the women also gradually adjusted to this because they had the greatest chance of getting pregnant—of course, only those that were fertile when you returned home. What about the he-women?"

"Maybe they're not on the same schedule as the others because they wouldn't be able to go hunting if they were pregnant too often."

"That time when there was so much infertility; did anything unusual happen connected with the Moon?"

"Let me think... You're right, something unusual did happen. While we were hunting, when the full moon ought to have been shining, it was dark all of a sudden. Since we weren't far from home, we went back to the camp right away. Then it was cloudy for a long time and we didn't know when we should go hunting. Even Parthen, who carefully keeps track of and calculates everything connected with the Moon, was confused because we could all plainly see that there was a new moon in the clear sky that day."

"That explains the mystery of the Moon rock! When you saw the new moon during the full moon, this was a rare natural phenomenon, a lunar eclipse. Because the women's monthly cycles are all on the same schedule, and the lunar eclipse misled you and you returned home suddenly, during an infertile time, there weren't any children. Since you didn't know exactly what phase the Moon was in because it was cloudy, everything went wrong until Parthen brought out the Moon rock."

"And we connected it with fertility instead of connecting fertility with the phase of the Moon," said Ro the rat from the corner.

"That's right!" said Eros.

"So Parthen's a fraud! He knows exactly how to calculate the twenty-eight day lunar cycle and so, even though it was cloudy, he knew when it was the right time to go on the hunt!"

"You mean twenty-nine," said Eros, correcting Filito.

"No, twenty-eight!"

"The lunar cycle lasts exactly twenty-nine days, twelve hours, and forty-four minutes."

"No way! It last twenty-eight days and a bit, but less than twenty-nine!"

"Are you sure?"

"Completely!"

Eros suddenly remembered Hapgood and Thomson. He drew a large ellipse on the dirt floor and thought about it.

"Do you know what this means?"

"What?"

"If the lunar cycle is shorter in your world than in mine, this means your world is keyed to a system from the very distant past. It must be much older than it seems! That's very strange because now both of us are living in the same time."

"Then how's it possible for the lunar cycle to be longer in your world?" asked Filito with surprise.

"Because the Moon's slowly moving away from the Earth and, because the torsion between the planets slows it down, it also takes it longer to orbit the Earth."

"I don't know what you mean. Maybe it would be better to ask Aragen and Parthen about this. The king and the medicine man often talk about things that the rest of us don't understand."

"OK, good night."

"Good night!"

Eros soon fell asleep, but Filito, Ro the rat, and Eo the tomcat lay awake until the wee hours thinking about who to choose to help Filito lead the hunt. Finally, Ro was allowed to suggest two men, and Eo one.

The first quarter appeared in the sky and announced the beginning of the hunt. The nights were becoming light and the hunters had to prepare for their journey. The men gathered in front of the temple and bowed one after the other to the Moon rock, hoping that it would guide them and bring them back home safely. They left the camp before dawn and the women accompanied the men to the gate. They watched the men descending towards the sea, until they disappeared below the slope.

Filito walked at the head of the column, planning the route with his helpers. They were soon overtaken by a short man. It was Parthen, heading to the sea again, like the Moon rock had commanded him.

The sky was clear and the sun was growing hotter. The light breeze from the north did little to cool them down, and far from the coast a man in a dugout hoisted his sail sewn from pig bladders.

Sard knew that the group from the camp was heading out on the hunt that morning. Ever since Aragen had appointed him to lead the hunters many years ago, nobody except him had ever led them. He was alone in the middle of the sea and suddenly a strange feeling overcame him. He missed his friends. He also thought about Asari and, when he thought about how she waited in vain on the wall every day, he felt a pang in his heart. He cried for the first time as a grown man.

It started getting dark and the hunters were setting bait in their wicker fish traps and launching dugouts into the sea. They tied rocks to the traps and lowered them to the bottom of the sea tied to ropes.

In the meantime, others were hunting fish in the river pools with fork spears or flushing crabs out from under the rocks. Then they made a fire on the beach and roasted the meat on sticks. After they'd eaten their fill, they fell asleep next to the piles of bones.

At the crack of dawn they continued their journey along the coast. When the day grew too hot, they stopped and lay around in the shade of tress until the sun grew low in the sky and they could continue their journey. They walked late into the night and in the first few days they caught only as much as they needed for that day.

The mood in the group was relaxed; they laughed a lot and nobody had to work too hard. Filito knew that some of them, especially the older and more experienced ones, were having some trouble with his command, and so he assigned tasks very carefully. He himself took on the least favorite and more difficult jobs. He also didn't allow things to get out of hand when some of the know-it-all hunters tried to offer him lots of advice. In this way he quickly became respected and popular among the hunters. The hunters knew that they needed a leader and that only Coincidence could place one at their head. They also trusted the wisdom of King Aragen, and so they didn't question whether Filito was the right man to lead them.

But of some of the hunters, who still saw Filito as an inexperienced young man, tried in vain to assert their desire to lead.

Sard had strictly imposed his will on the group of hunters and, although people generally respected him, they were also afraid of him. In contrast, Filito was friendly and considerate, and so the hunters were more relaxed, but no less obedient.

Wild boars liked to frequent the broad clearing because of the big spring there. Here, for the first time in his life, Filito had to assemble an effective team that would play the key role in the hunt. When Sard chose the men, there wasn't a single hunter who didn't have something to say about the formation, and in fact the decision was much harder than it seemed. It was necessary to select experienced, but also motivated players who, on top of everything else, would complement one another.

Filito was well aware which of the men were fighters in their hearts, but now he had to organize them into a mutual balance. This was of key importance to their success. Of course, the selected ones could also be replaced later, but hesitating too long could lead to poor results because if the moon overtook them, they'd return home empty-handed.

Filito called a meeting and selected eleven men. The one who was largest and could react fastest didn't carry a bow. His job was to defend the exit from the circle, so the boar couldn't escape from it.

Then, out of these eleven, he selected five strong, fast men who could think like a team for the center position, and three larger ones for defense, so that the boar couldn't get too close to the exit. Finally he selected the two most skilled and explosive strikers, whose task was to attack.

This was only the basic setup, less important for the hunt itself because their roles could change at any moment if the circumstances demanded it. The goal of the group was to get the boar to the edge of the circle and into the net.

Just like Sard, Filito also didn't select himself for the team because that could've undermined his authority. He completely trusted the men because otherwise he wouldn't be able to be their leader.

It started getting dark and the hunters made a circle around the clearing. When the eleven stepped inside, there was tension in the air and the people eagerly anticipated the result. Filito stood to the side, watching the players alertly. His task was finished. The men in the circle were playing in their most powerful formation and now everything depended on them alone. Everyone involved dreamed about being selected for the team. As soon as Filito blew the horn to start the hunt, everyone felt at one with the circle. This gave them a feeling of invincibility. They felt a connection among themselves and their thoughts were now united in only one goal.

The crowd started shouting, frightening the boars. When something moved in the grass, one of the midfielders lunged towards the center.

The hunters raised their hands in the air to cheer on the men in the field as though they wanted to be part of the action instead of on the sidelines. They jumped up and down, broke branches in front of them, and beat the ground with sticks. If Eros hadn't known that a hunt was underway, he would've thought that the men had gone completely bonkers.

Two midfielders moved sideways to intercept the pass. A quick play through the center opened up an opportunity for one of the strikers. In a split second he shot forward and weaved between the trees as though nothing could stop him. He paid no attention to the branches that blocked him with sharp blows, or to the ferns that scratched against his calves. He struck as soon as he had a clear shot, and scored... GOAAAAAAL!

The crowd was immediately on its feet and the men were shouting with excitement. They enthusiastically cried out the name of the striker, who was buried beneath a pile of his teammates. Eros was surprised to see how one boar could create such fervor in the crowd.

The final score was three boars shot and one that got away, but the hunters were happy with every success, as though they themselves had been kicking the ball.

Filito was satisfied because the team he had chosen had played well together from the very beginning. They were also successful when the hunters teamed up to hunt deer.

They hunted birds by dividing into two groups. The first group hid in the tall grass and aimed their bows towards the sky, and the second group frightened the birds from the opposite side so that they flew directly into the deadly arrows.

They immediately gutted the animals and tied them to the rings.

When the Moon started to wane, they had collected a great deal of quarry and could head home. On the way home they emptied the traps that they had set several days earlier and also stopped in a neighboring camp along the way to display what they had caught and exchange some of it for gifts to take home.

On the day of their return they pulled up the fish traps they had put into the sea at the beginning of the hunt, and filled their baskets with fresh fish and crabs.

The camp had prepared a celebration to welcome them back. This time the he-women had returned before them and had dragged a large bear back to the camp. This made Aragen angry because he had explicitly forbidden hunting bears, wolves, and hedgehogs. The he-women felt insulted. They were convinced that the king wouldn't have been half as angry if it had been the hunters that had caught the bear. When the hunters also laid down their quarry in the temple, hardly any of them recognized Parthen, who was waiting on the steps. His previously red-cheeked face was sunken and gray. His round belly was gone too, and his skin was hanging off of him. But his tired eyes looked out victoriously from under his bushy brows.

"The rock has demonstrated its power, mark this," he said, holding his saggy skin.

Now some women with fat rear ends were also going to the sea and performing the ritual that Parthen prescribed to them following the instructions of the Moon rock, only that each one also had to sacrifice a basket of food to the rock.

The medicine man, who had made his point, stopped going to the sea and his voracious appetite had returned at the camp's suppers. Soon he started offering people other advice on behalf of the Moon rock and accepting gifts for it. The king didn't approve of this, and so one day he asked him what the rock needed all those gifts for. The medicine man replied that firm faith was only half the battle, and that people don't believe in advice if they don't have to sacrifice anything for it.

Eros' mirror had created some tension in the camp that still hadn't died down. The women that looked into it during Premens' visit were shocked at their appearance and vented their dissatisfaction on everyone that they came in contact with. And so Premens the ghost caused trouble again.

One day Eros noticed that Parthen's belly was growing again, and his gait was becoming slow and awkward because he was so fat. This was especially obvious when he huffed and puffed up the steps of the temple. Then he was nowhere to be seen for a few days and the people worried about him. They found him in the temple; he was alive, but so rotund that he couldn't get up on his feet. He was lying helpless on the floor in his own waste.

The people were worried because Parthen was not only the medicine man, but also the representative of Coincidence for them. He negotiated for their fates and made sure that they wouldn't be punished too harshly for their sins. The people wondered why Coincidence was punishing its agent, and many started doubting the power of the Moon rock.

Eros was digging a hole by the creek. Aragen watched what he was doing from the terrace and then came down to him.

"If the water level were only a little bit higher, people could swim here," said Eros.

"If we plugged up the creek with the medicine man, the entire camp could go swimming!... I'm worried about Parthen."

"Is the camp already running out of food?"

"I'm afraid that that would really be the only solution. He proved his point and then he completely let himself go. He stopped going to the sea, and he's gulping down food like the world's going to end tomorrow. He's always been a glutton, but it was never anything like this before... Do you have problems like this in your world too?"

"People in my world also have problems with obesity, but there also plenty of people that have trouble because they lose too much weight."

"And how do you solve problems like that?"

"In different ways... usually it's enough to balance the diet and get more exercise, but in bad cases they have to see a doctor or psychologist."

"But Parthen's our healer, our medicine man, our wise man. He's here to help solve other people's problems and not to have more problems than anyone else put together!"

"I'll think about that."

"But hurry up, before he destroys all the houses in the camp!"

Eros started digging a hole on the other side of the creek too. In the meantime, the men dragged up part of an enormous monolith that they had split into two equal parts the day before, as Eros had ordered them. When the second hole was finished, Eros measured the size of the stone block again and then indicated where they should put it. They put the second half opposite the first, lined up so that there was a slit between them as wide as a fist in the middle of the creek. The blocks sank into the mud and settled onto the gravel, also filling up the space next to both of the banks. Now the water only rushed through the slit in the middle.

The men wondered why they had made a dam with a hole in it.

"Why didn't we leave the stone in one piece?" asked one of them.

"We're not done yet," said Eros and ordered them to get into the creek.

Eros dragged over a long thin tree trunk that he had removed the bark from earlier, and placed it in front of the slit so that the current pressed it against the dam, blocking the opening. The trunk was long enough to stick out of the water a bit.

"Now stomp around to bring up the silt and mud from the bottom... like you're scaring the wild boars!"

The men started jumping around in the rising water, and Eros pulled on the trunk and let out the muddy water until it was all gone. They repeated this until the water was clear and only sand and gravel was left on the bottom.

"Now it's like the sea!" cried out one of the men with excitement.

Then they all bathed and for the first time there was enough room in the creek for everyone without making the water muddy for each other.

Eros headed off towards the temple, and on the way he met Asari, who was leaving the temple with her head bowed. Her face was crestfallen and tears flooded her eyes. But Eros wasn't aware of the depth of her despair. He was thinking about the medicine man.

He found him lying on a large deer skin. The room was dark and stuffy, moisture saturated the stone walls, and the floor felt cold.

Eros sat down next to Parthen and noticed the bundle of scarlet cloth.

"What does the Moon rock say?"

"That this is a punishment sent to me by Coincidence."

"Are the enormous amounts of food that the people are leaving on the temple steps also a coincidence?"

"The people are sacrificing it to the rock, not to me."

"So the rock gnawed these bones you've just thrown away?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"That you'll have to do something for yourself, otherwise Coincidence will take you to itself!"

"I've done everything I could."

"But maybe you still haven't done what you ought to."

"And what good would that do me? If your advice really helped me, it would be the end of faith in the Moon rock forever."

"Or would you prefer it to be the end of you forever?"

"If the rock couldn't help me, neither can you!"

"Well, I can try. Things can't get any worse. What do you have to lose?"

"I'd rather be burned alive than have you help me."

"So you don't believe in the power of coincidence?"

"Eros, you're just a fraud! You're pretending to possess the wisdom of Coincidence, but you're only taking advantage of people's gullibility!"

"That's the truth..."

"The truth? So you even admit you're a fraud?"

"... that's the truth as your Reason sees it. But he's only judging based on your house because he's never seen mine. People's worlds are so different that the truth of one can be a lie for the other. Your words don't hurt me because I know this. I accept your world and, if I'm a fraud in it, you have the right to believe so."

"So prove me wrong!"

"If you're ready for the truth..."

"Unravel the mystery of my obesity and cure me, and then I'll believe you," said the medicine man, his eyes shining wickedly.

"Maybe I'll find the answer if you describe your diet to me!"

"Nothing special: in the morning I have a slice of fruit, for lunch a piece of meat and some grain, and occasionally a dried fish for supper," smiled Parthen.

"I thought so... that slice of fruit in the morning's to blame for everything!"

"What do you mean? Half of a small peeled lemon can't hurt!"

"Really? Just look at yourself and where those small lemons have gotten you!" smiled Eros and left.

He also looked at the baskets that the people had left on the steps. They contained everything possible, from all sorts of vegetables and grain to meat, desserts, and fruits. The baskets only contained a small amount of food, but the variety of food was a true feast.

While Eros was poking through the food, Sa also set a basket by his feet.

"What are you doing here with a basket?" asked Eros with surprise.

"Oh, you know, there might be something to it," said the king's daughter, a little embarrassed.

"Something... to... what?"

"That the Moon rock can help me find true love."

"The rock can't help you if you don't help yourself. But you can help me!"

"How?"

"I want to know what everyone in the camp eats and what their bodies look like!"

"What do you need all that for?" asked Sa with surprise.

"I have to figure out how eating habits affect people's build. Write down all the details with what people eat, what they like the best, when, and how much food. Maybe that'll tell us how to help Parthen."

"I'll be happy to help you," said Sa.

Eros also asked Filito for help. They walked together from house to house, writing down all the details that the people told them on small boards. On the back of the board they also added a short description of each person's build, who they were related to, and the work that they did.

The next day they met at the king's palace and spread out the boards. They were also joined by Aragen and Sarkene, who watched what they were doing with surprise.

"There, now we have to arrange all of the boards into three piles. All the people with lots of fat go on the left, the really skinny ones on the right, and the rest in the middle. Then we'll look for the connections between people and food for all three groups," explained Eros.

The task was quickly accomplished.

"Now what?" asked Sa.

"Now let's see what kinds of foods are most common for the fat people, and how this is different from what the skinny people eat. We'll divide them into five groups by food: red for people who mostly eat animal products, blue for those who like fruit the best, green for those that eat leafy vegetables, brown for people that prefer root vegetables, and yellow for those who like grain and honey," suggested Eros.

After they had colored all the boards, they were disappointed to see that all three piles contained different colors and that both fat and thin people ate all kinds of food.

"This doesn't make any sense! It must have to do with how much food they eat, and not the kind of food," said Aragen.

So they rearranged the piles... dividing people by appetite into those who ate a lot and those who ate less. But to their great surprise they soon found that the thinnest people often ate as much as the fat ones, and that the slim hunters ate the most.

"What if it has to do with who they're related to and people are different from each other just like certain animals?" guessed Sarkene.

This pattern seemed to make a little sense, but not enough to be obvious. Many thin children had fat parents and vice versa.

"Families eat at the same table, and so it's impossible for us to say whether the food or the relationship's to blame," said Filito.

"What are you doing?" asked Tizano, the king's son, who had just returned home.

"We're studying people's builds based on what they eat," explained Sa.

Tizano scanned the boards:

"Put them into two piles... the hunters in one and everyone else in the other. None of the hunters are fat."

After they had separated the piles following Tizano's suggestion, they noticed that there were many fat people even among the hunters. These were former hunters who had grown old or been injured, and so they couldn't go on the hunt anymore.

"All of the active hunters are thin, but those who don't go hunting anymore for whatever reason get fat! What if physical activity is the key?" suggested Filito.

So they rearranged the piles again.

"Look, the grain gatherers walk just as much as the hunters, but they have the most fat people among them. It still doesn't make any sense," said Sa with disappointment.

"The men who stay in the camp are often much fatter, or just the opposite: real beanpoles. There aren't differences like that among the hunters," said Tizano.

Then they checked to see if there was some kind of connection among the thin men in the camp, but they didn't find anything substantial here either.

"What about the active hunters... do they have anything else in common besides getting lots of exercise? The fact is that none of them are fat," said Eros.

"Half of the time they mostly eat meat," said Aragen.

"But a lot of the others also mostly eat meat, but are fat anyway," observed Tizano.

"So we're back at the beginning again," sighed Sa.

The group pondered and rearranged the boards late into the night, but didn't discover anything that could help Parthen.

"It all seems like there's no connection between food and people's figures," Aragen eventually concluded with disappointment.

"Do you think our builds are just a matter of coincidence?" asked Eros with surprise.

"I don't know... and I don't see any reason why Coincidence would get involved with our figures," said the king.

"What about you? You don't go hunting or gather grain, you eat everything, but you have a chiseled body. Did Coincidence create you as a model for the others?" said Eros, marveling at his physique.

"It created him for me," smiled Sarkene.

"My father adores meat," said Sa, looking at the king's board.

"Maybe we should sleep on it and we'll come up with another idea tomorrow?" suggested Eros, and he and Filito said goodbye and headed home.

"I've never seen Sa in such a good mood," said Filito after a while.

"And I've never seen you so reserved," said Eros.

"Well, she's the king's daughter after all."

"Well, if that doesn't bother Coincidence, I don't know why it should bother you!"

They found Eo in front of the door of the hut.

"Eo! What have you eaten? You've got a belly like the medicine man!" said Filito, stroking the tomcat's glistening fur.

"He's getting ready for winter so he can sleep like a bear again," said Ro.

"Who asked you, twerp? You're as mean as a wolf, and your tongue flaps so much you could thresh grain with it!" said Eo, offended.

"The north wind's been blowing all week; it looks like the trees are going to crack from the frost again," said It the mouse from the corner.

And then everyone fell asleep.

The morning sun was shining on the water in the dammed creek so it glowed with the color of the pottery that the camp produced. People enjoyed sitting by the dam at times like this.

Eros sat on a rock and watched the water flowing over it.

Aragen sat down next to him.

"It looked like we had the answer in our hands, but then we were left empty handed."

"I'm sure that there's a solution for Parthen," said Eros.

"What if Coincidence is really controlling everything?"

"But its purpose is not to punish, but to guide... If Parthen has strayed from the path, Life surely wants him to find it again, because behind all coincidences there is a plan, and behind all plans there is a coincidence!"

"That's an interesting thought. Where'd you get it from?"

"From a dog!"

"So you've spoken with Coincidence?"

"The dog calls it Life."

"Once, when I was still a child, my father told me a great secret. He said that it only seems to us that the other camps look similar to ours. They actually differ from one another more than the Moon and the Sun. What we see isn't the truth, but only our idea, represented by the wolf, bear, and hedgehog in each of us... and so we need walls."

"Wolf, bear, and hedgehog?" asked Eros with surprise.

"Yes, the wolf's rational and deliberate, the bear's carefree and lazy, and the solitary hedgehog's cautious. Together they create the world we believe in."

"Just like Reason, Emotion, and Instinct. Each of them sees their own truth, and we live in the world of their ideas!"

"Only Coincidence knows the truth because it sees through all of the walls and understands everyone. It has unimaginable power over us. It can use it to bring our worlds together. This power's called love."

"But how do we find love?" asked Eros.

"By following Coincidence! By listening to it and trusting it. By doing everything in our power to fulfill its plan."

"But why is its plan so mysterious? Why doesn't it simply tell us what it wants from us?"

"Because it doesn't want to make deals with us. It doesn't want us to become different only because we would gain something from that or because we're afraid of it. What sense would kindness make if it were the result of calculation? Whoever expects something from Coincidence will be disappointed because Coincidence teaches us rather than pays us."

"So Coincidence teaches us how we ought to be. It doesn't want us to become that way because we expect a reward or because we're afraid of being punished."

"That's the secret of happiness," nodded the king.

"What happens if we don't follow coincidence?"

"It happened in a camp very far away... Their king was good and wise. But one day he dropped dead in the middle of the temple. The medicine man Koniin took advantage of this and proclaimed himself king, ruling the people through terror. Anyone who resisted him met the same fate as the king: first his legs went numb, then he couldn't breathe anymore, and then he suffocated and died while fully conscious... One day Koniin also wanted to rule the neighboring camps and so he hatched a plan to create an invincible army... but for this he needed many children. So he convinced the people that Coincidence was demanding that they create families and conceive as many children as possible. To make this as effective as possible, he forbade any kind of sexual activity as shameful if it wasn't for breeding purposes. But he didn't expect what followed. Soon everything in the camp went wrong, because the people wanted exactly what was forbidden, as you'd expect. Before long nobody could tell the difference anymore between emotional and physical attraction, love and passion, and making love and doing it. The people were lost and unhappy... they didn't know what to do with their lives, and soon all of the joy in the camp was replaced by suffering. And there were fewer and fewer children!"

"And what happened to the camp?"

"One day Coincidence sent the Torreans to it, and they burned it to the ground. The medicine man hid in a hole under the temple, but the crazed attackers destroyed the temple and the medicine man was trapped in his own grave. He slowly ran out of air and so he died a horrible death too."

"So Koniin the medicine man took Coincidence into his own hands. But how do people in your camp know what coincidence expects of them?"

"Our ancestors were able to see the truth and they recognized the seven commandments of Coincidence. And these are:

"Accept the life that Coincidence sends you.

"Do good for yourself and others.

"Treat everyone with respect.

"Don't begrudge others what you want for yourself.

"Be fair to yourself and others.

"Don't do to others what you don't want for yourself.

"Trust Coincidence!"

"If it's so simple, then why are people unhappy and sad?"

"Anyone can learn the seven commandments. Many follow them, but very few also understand them. That's also true of happiness in life."

"What about people that want and do good, but Coincidence still doesn't favor them?"

"We can live convinced that we're doing the best thing, but we can be wrong nonetheless and actually harming ourselves. So it's necessary to listen to Coincidence, which keeps showing us what's right and what's wrong," smiled Aragen.

"That's what parents do, when they try to protect children from life too much. Such children can never prepare themselves for it, but the parents believe they're doing the best thing for their children."

"They don't trust Coincidence!"

"Maybe they taught their children to distinguish between what's right and what's wrong because they don't trust themselves."

"Do you know what the longest path in the world is?"

"What?"

"The longest path is the shortcut to happiness."

"Does that mean that some people never find it?"

"In the eyes of Coincidence we're all equal and the same rules apply to everyone. Only those who are aware of this can accept the life Coincidence sends them. But when people get lucky, they tend to forget that in the eyes of Coincidence they themselves are still no better than others."

"Then they learn that nobody can shuffle the cards of life as quickly and thoroughly as Coincidence, and believe that the greatest injustice in the world has befallen them."

"If you think you're being treated unjustly, don't seek revenge because your misfortune might only be a lesson that you deserved for something you overlooked. No matter how great the injustice, Coincidence always makes up for it if you only have enough sense not to take revenge on your own. If others mistreat you, your greatest strength is if you're able to be different from them."

"Does Coincidence only take into account what we do or do our thoughts also count?"

"Let's put it this way: you get taught a lesson for having bad thoughts, and for bad behavior you get rapped on the knuckles. Whoever's unhappy is only resisting the path of Coincidence. But the most important thing of all is to never lose hope, no matter how hopeless your world seems, how big your misfortune is, and how senseless life seems to you. Do your best and give it your all because at any moment Coincidence can turn you into a king... if only you're able to believe in it and at the same time not have expectations."

"So you... you're able to see the truth!"

"Help!" echoed a cry from the other side of the wall.

People immediately ran to the place where the cries were coming from and saw a few despairing women leaning over a cliff stained with blood. Aragen parted the crowd with his hands and saw Asari on the ground.

"She jumped from the wall... she didn't say anything, but just dropped out of sight," sobbed a girl at her feet.

The women moaned and many had tears in their eyes as they looked at the motionless body. The king pressed his ear to her chest and then closed her eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks and he couldn't utter a single word. He gently took Asari into his arms and carried her into the camp himself. Behind the great gate, steps led to a small platform and he placed her here. He wept as he did this and so did everyone else. Sarkene brought linen to wrap Asari in. They burned the body of the unfortunate woman on a pyre the next day, placed her ashes in a beautifully decorated pot, and buried it outside the wall.

Far away, in a new world, Sard was lying on the sand next to his boat, looking at the stars above him. He suddenly shed a tear, but didn't know why.

A gloomy mood fell over the camp and the people didn't talk much with one another. They had already lost many who were close to them in their lives, but nobody had ever taken their own life before.

"I told you that a curse would befall us! Let's drive him away while we can still save our camp," said the medicine man, striking the skull on his staff.

"But what if it's your fault? Asari came to the temple looking for help but, in the condition you're in, you can't even help yourself, let alone anyone else," replied Aragen.

"Then ask the rock if you don't believe me!"

"So far you're the only one that's ever heard it speak."

The creek caught Eros' attention. He noticed that it had risen a lot. There was so much water that it was spilling over the dam, even though it was free to flow through the slit between the stone blocks.

Filito was standing on the bank, throwing stones into the rushing water.

"Aragen was really shaken by her death," said Eros, deep in thought.

"She took her own life; that means that she didn't respect Coincidence. Her path in the next life will be painful because along with everything else she'll also have to learn to value life."

"She thought she was jumping into a redemption, but in fact she was casting herself into even greater suffering."

"That's the way it is if you don't trust Coincidence."

"The creek's high," said Eros.

"It's fall and it's raining in the mountains."

"Does the water rise like this every fall?"

"Yes, before winter and summer."

Filito headed back to the camp, but Eros stayed there a while longer, thinking about nature and the approaching winter. He remembered that fat protects the body from cold and at the same time gives it a large energy reserve. Maybe obesity was only nature's response to prepare us for cold and deprivation. But the body doesn't create these reserves over night. It has to receive some kind of signal in advance... Maybe the medicine man's body kept expecting deprivation by mistake and so was constantly creating reserves? But what signals the body whether to prepare for winter or spring? It could be the cold, which announces the coming of winter... but when winter finally sets in, it's far too late to create reserves.

Now it finally struck Eros: for millions of years, people had been adapting to nature and its repeating phenomena, but now they had begun to adapt nature to themselves. But the human body can't keep up with these rapid changes and so it still listens to nature, which man had outsmarted.

Eros excitedly went and found Filito, and together they knocked on the door of the palace. Sa opened the door.

"Quick, we have to rearrange the boards again!" Eros cried out.

"What are we looking for?"

"It's not the type of food, but mixing it! For millions of years people lived in harmony with nature, and our bodies still listen to it. For all that time we only ate what nature gave us, and our bodies were able to tell from this what they needed to prepare for. But gradually people got spoilt and built granaries and cellars. They stored grains, root vegetables, and apples and pears in them so that they'd always be available. They turned the fruit into jam, and preserved the meat with salt... We have to figure out what mixture of food tells our bodies that winter's coming!"

"And what's that have to do with obesity?" asked Aragen with surprise.

"Fat's nature's response; fat prepares the body for deprivation and winter! Just like our tears automatically wash the dust out of our eyes."

"That sounds reasonable. Let's arrange the boards to find out if it's true," agreed Aragen.

Soon there were three piles. People whose diet was rather monotonous were in the first pile. This included the hunters and the he-women, who spent half of their time eating only meat. The second pile included those that ate a variety of food, but only for short periods of time. The last pile included those that kept large amounts of grain and root vegetables in store for the entire year, but also ate meat and other animal products.

Then Sa checked what kind of physiques the people had in each of the piles.

"The pattern's perfect! The first pile is only thin people, the second has people with medium builds, and in the third, with only two exceptions, everyone's overweight!"

"So Eros' hypothesis has been confirmed!" said Filito, jumping with excitement.

"Parthen lives in the temple, where people bring baskets of offerings. So he always has the biggest variety of food available. Because he was challenged a month ago and wanted to show the power of his rock at any cost, he gave up food for a while. Initially this exhausted his reserves, but with a little intake of sustenance a false alarm was created in his body... it announced deprivation, so his body started building up reserves as soon as he stopped starving... just in case there really would be deprivation," explained Eros.

"But there's still something I don't understand... If the body senses winter's coming after eating food, why isn't just one type of food that's available in the fall enough for this? Why do you have to combine animal products and foods that are ripe in late summer and in the fall to accumulate fat?" asked Sarkene.

"Over millions of years, our environment completely changed several times. So people also had to survive longer periods of constant winter; for example, when your ancestors moved to these parts. During the Ice Age people only survived on meat. The winters created the need for hunting and hunters because there wasn't enough other food. Tubby hunters wouldn't have been successful! On the other hand, there were also times when there weren't any winters at all. During these constant summers, the rivers dried up, the number of animals declined, and it's also possible that the meat of the animals that were hunted often rotted and became inedible because of the heat, and so people could only survive by eating plant products. Just like in winter, storing too much fat now could also harm the body and so it wasn't necessary to have reserves. Body fat as some sort of winter supply only makes sense if the hot and cold seasons alternate because that makes it easier for the body to deal with the transitions between plenty and deprivation. These transitions can be sensed only with the help of mixed foods... meat announces that winter's coming, and autumn fruits mark the end of summer. And it's exactly mixing foods like this that's caused Parthen's obesity because his diet's always telling his body to prepare for deprivation. The problem is that the predicted deprivation never comes because of the abundance of food and winter provisions that are stored up," explained Eros.

"It's clear from the boards that it's enough to not eat animal and plant products together in the same meal. Even by taking a long walk between two meals of different origin, we never gain weight even if we eat a lot of food of the same origin. Those who ate different foods—but always one type in the morning and the other type in the afternoon—are also slim. Since I know all of these people and their habits, I can also tell you that the slimmest ones are those that eat this way and also do some kind of work besides," mused Sa.

"Meat and leafy vegetables that grow in the spring don't make you put on weight even if you eat them from the same plate," concluded Filito, looking at the boards.

"So the body only responds to what it digests at the same time," replied Eros.

"It's interesting that hunters, unlike the ones that stay in the camp, never put on weight in their rear ends and thighs, but instead on their bellies, waists, and shoulders... Fat on the legs and rear end would make it hard for them to walk. On the other hand, all of those in the camp who spend most of the winter sitting on the ground and only use the upper parts of their body for work have fat distributed accordingly," concluded Sarkene.

"Look, now it's clear why obesity can also be connected with drinking water! Whoever only drinks a little or drinks fruit juice instead of water is unconsciously telling his body that there could be a water shortage and that the creeks and springs have dried up. This is a signal to our bodies that a drought has started, and that means that in the period that follows there also won't be enough food and it's necessary to store up preserves," said Eros, examining the boards.

"Parthen ended up lying in the temple among baskets filled with food and juice, but there was never any fresh water among the offerings. So he only drank juice. The body also starts building up fat reserves if you don't drink enough water!" said Sarkene.

"We've got a solution for Parthen. But he probably won't to cooperate because he'd rather lie around in his own waste than admit the fallibility of the Moon rock," said Eros.

"We'll have to trick him," said Filito, who was standing to the side, staring at a clay disc on which Sa had written the names of the seas, lakes, and bays of the Moon. He suddenly paused, dumbstruck.

"Fecunditatis, Ingenii, Luxuriae, Iridum, Tranquillitatis, Oblivionis... Sa, did you know that the first letters of these names that you wrote spell Filito?"

Sa examined the names.

"Spei, Amoris... and the last two spell my name! Is such a coincidence even possible?" she said with surprise, looking into Filito's eyes.

The king's daughter had always been attractive to the young man, but he had never felt what he felt now when she looked at him. It was as though he had opened the door of his house in the middle of winter and stepped into spring.

"Well, there really must be something to this Moon rock after all," smiled Eros.

Parthen was lying in the dark when he heard a conversation at the entrance to the temple. But he couldn't make out the words between Eros and Aragen, who were standing on the threshold.

"What are you talking about?... You're not allowed to keep any secrets from the Moon rock," he shouted indignantly towards the door when they paid no attention to him.

"Oh, the rock knows what we were talking about," said the king.

"Parthen, would you like to walk again and live a respectable life?" asked Eros.

"Sure, but I only trust the almighty Moon rock. It'll save me from all of my troubles!"

"What if you tried using the magic plate?" asked Eros, holding up his mirror.

"Your plate has no power; you only want to trick me and starve me to death!"

"I promise you'll be able to eat as much as you want, but only from the plate."

"As much as I want? But will there be food on the plate?"

"The very best that you can imagine!"

"That'll never work," smirked Parthen.

"So so you agree with his suggestion?" asked the king.

"I agree, but under the condition that Eros leaves our camp if it doesn't work!"

"You can't do that..."

"Agreed! If you're not back on your feet in a month, I'll hit the road," replied Eros.

Aragen called the people together and decreed that it was forbidden to bring food to the temple until the next new moon. They would set up the rock of Coincidence to receive offerings opposite the temple, in the shade of the old olive tree.

Eros entered the temple. He was holding the mirror like a tray and a goblet of fresh water. When Parthen saw the enormous pile of meat, fish, and eggs on the plate, he began to roar with laughter:

"And that's supposed to get me back on my feet again? If I eat that much food, I'll get so fat that I won't even be able to lift my arms anymore, let alone my body!"

"Enjoy your meal," said Eros, watching the medicine man gulp down the food from the mirror with relish.

The next day Eros loaded the plate with tubers, carrots, legumes, zucchini, eggplant, and other vegetables. Just like the day before the medicine man ate almost everything. On the third day, Eros brought him dishes made from various grains and honey, and the next day only fruit. Parthen didn't notice that each day the menu contained only one type of food because there was always a big selection on the plate. The only thing that seemed a little strange to the medicine man was that each day he craved the menu that Eros had put together for him three days earlier and, when Eros brought it to him the next day, he surprisingly craved what he had eaten three days earlier.

When Eros returned to Filito's hut in the evening, he saw Ro the rat, Eo the tomcat, and It the mouse lolling around on their backs as though intoxicated. They kept laughing and talking about Sa, describing her like a character from a fairytale. They were so carried away that they didn't even notice Eros' surprised look.

"Where's Filito?"

"Where else?... in the company of perfection that looks at him with eyes filled with butterflies...," said Eo.

"... that smells like a field of colorful flowers, whose sweetness can't compare with the most delicious honey...," added It.

"... and her voice and her words are as refreshing as the morning dew on a blade of grass," said Ro.

"Are you guys OK? You sound like you've been eating magic mushrooms!"

"Tomorrow it'll be the first quarter. So Filito won't be back until the crack of dawn when he'll leave with the hunters," said Ro.

Eros didn't leave with the group because he had to prepare the medicine man's food. Every day he carefully put together the menu and carried the food to the temple. Parthen noticed that, even though he was eating a lot of food, his girth was visibly decreasing every day. He couldn't understand this, and so he even forced himself to eat, stuffing himself as much as he could. But even that didn't help—despite the unbelievable quantities of food, his belly continued to shrink. Aragen and Sa often visited him and one day they tried to help him onto his feet, but his knees were too weak for him to hold himself up.

Every evening Sa watched the Moon and counted the days until the hunters would return. Eros noticed her face had lost every trace of sorrow. Her eyes shone like two small suns and she smiled all the time. Her beauty outshone even that of Queen Sarkene. When the hunters returned, Sa couldn't be separated from Filito until the supper was prepared in the square.

Parthen was still lying in the temple. He pretended that he couldn't stand up because of his excess fat, even when the new moon came and Eros, Aragen, Sarkene, Filito, and Sa came to visit him.

"I still can't get back on my feet—your promise hasn't been fulfilled," said Parthen, looking at Eros.

"But we can all see that your fat's disappeared," said the king.

"It does seem that way, but I still can't stand up," replied Parthen, wiggling his feet in his pointy sandals.

"Maybe this is a sign for me to leave?!" said Eros, stepping on the temple's threshold.

"Wait! Don't leave!" cried Sarkene after him.

"I always keep my word!" said Eros.

"Wait!" said Sarkene. She ran out of the temple to the palace, and brought back some dry moss and a glowing chip of wood from the fire place.

"Help me up on the wall."

Eros lifted her up so she could take hold of a stone statue. There she blew on the wood chip until it started glowing. She used it to light the moss, which started making dense smoking. She then placed this smoldering lump in a small opening under the temple's roof and yelled out:

"Fire!... Save yourselves!"

A moment later the medicine man plunged through the door like a deer, running as fast as he could. He only stopped by the wall, where he noticed people staring at him from the flat area in front of the temple.

"And what was that all about?" Aragen asked the medicine man with surprise.

"A miracle!" muttered Parthen between his teeth.

Now the entire camp started roaring with laughter, tears running down the people's cheeks, and the humiliated medicine man crawled back into the temple like a marmot into its den.

"How did you know?" asked Eros, looking at Sarkene.

"He was barefoot the whole time he couldn't get up off the floor, but a while ago he started wearing his sandals again. Why would he put them on if he kept lying around all the time?"

"You're saying he pretended that he couldn't get up?... Does he hate me that much?"

"He doesn't hate you, he hates himself. He's afraid of the truth and you came here with a mirror... Aragen also doesn't have many close friends... because he speaks the truth. Only few people can handle it."

Aragen approached Eros:

"Parthen tried to do you an injustice, and so he'll be judged."

"Do I also have the right to forgive?"

"Of course!"

"So let him be forgiven. I think he's discovered the truth that he had to learn."

"You're a noble man, Eros... Come, let me show you something," replied Aragen and took him out of the camp.

Snowflakes were falling from the sky, slowly covering the landscape in white.

Eros and Aragen walked along the forest.

"Just remember... it's a great gift to be a king, but also a burden because the truth's stronger than any weapon and Coincidence only entrusts it to the one who is just."

They stopped at a small clearing.

"Look, here's where Coincidence chose me to be king."

Eros noticed a small icy hollow among the tufts of grass sticking out of the snow.

"Do horses often come here?" asked Eros.

"Wild horses... here and there, why?"

"This one's shod," said Eros, bending over the print in the snow.

"Shod?"

"It's Lictor, my brother Ares' horse. I have to take my leave before he finds me," said Eros.

He and the king went back to the camp, which in the meantime had been dusted white with snow.

Eros took his mirror and then went and found Filito.

"Good luck and thank you for everything. I've made a friend in your house and also gotten to know the foundations of human relations. Life has perfected your world over the millennia and shaped it in line with nature and society. Your world forms the basis for all the other worlds, and whoever denies it in his world also denies his own world. Only those who respect it can find the happiness of true love."

"Love is found by those who accept their own world and respect the worlds of others. Always trust Coincidence," replied Filito.

When Eros was leaving the camp, he noticed a new statute on the extreme right of the temple.

"Now we have seven guardians of truth," said Aragen.

"I only see six," observed Eros with surprise, but the king pointed at the old olive tree, where the seventh statue stood.

This one was looking at the sixth one, and was its perfect mirror image.

***

Just like that, clairvoyance led Eros from world to world. Without quite knowing how, he suddenly found himself in a new world, meeting strangers.

He'd hardly stepped into the sea to bathe when the coast behind him disappeared, and before him he saw land that hadn't been there before. He swam towards the bay and pulled himself out of the water. A fertile green landscape rose before him.

"Welcome to Her Gardens," said a man with a red beard, wearing a black rhason and fishing on the shore.

"It's nice here," said Eros, looking around.

Old olive trees grew along the dusty road leading past the vineyards. Not far from the coast stood a tall abandoned tower, continuing to defy time like it had when bandits were still pillaging the area.

The red-bearded man cast his line and pulled a loaf of rye bread from his bag.

"Here, have a piece of bread. I kneaded holy water into it."

Eros took the bread:

"It's good!"

He headed off down the road and noticed a cottage among the vineyards with a carefully tended trellis alongside. Next to the cottage stood a tree, and there was an inviting wooden table and bench in the shade. Some bunches of grapes were lying on the table.

He noticed a tanned man in a sweaty T-shirt among the vines. He greeted him and the man gestured, inviting him to the table and offering him some grapes.

"Who are you?" asked Eros.

The man was mute, but Eros was able to read his lips:

"I'm a martyr."

It was only then that Eros noticed that the man had gauze fastened around his neck, covering the opening above his chest that he breathed through.

"A martyr?" asked Eros with surprise.

The man smiled and his eyes shone. He was glad to have a visitor, even though he had never seen Eros before.

"A martyr you may be, but you don't look unhappy. Your hands are worn from hard work, but your eyes don't look tired."

"I like to work. It drives away the loneliness," whispered the man.

"Whose vineyard is this?"

"I work for the monks. The vineyard belongs to the monastery a little higher up along the creek."

It started to get dark and Eros moved on. He didn't stop until he reached a wall next to the road with two taps sticking out, and he quenched his thirst with the cold water that filled the stone basin. He gulped the water down and then also splashed some over his head.

A bit further on the valley widened and the road led him to the monastery, which was surrounded by mighty impenetrable walls. Wooden balconies jutted out from them; some were closed and others were open, some were freshly painted blue and others were completely gray from the sun and rain.

Eros looked at the frescoes above the entrance with interest and knocked on the heavy iron-studded door, which had a smaller door cut into it that a grown man would find it hard to squeeze through. A thin monk in a black rhason, with glasses and a long sparse beard, peered through the door.

"I'm Eros."

"I'm Simeon," said the monk, introducing himself.

"I'm looking for a place to stay."

"Do you have a visitor's pass?"

"I don't," said Eros.

"What's your faith?"

"I don't have one. I'm not a believer."

"It doesn't matter, come in," said Father Simeon, inviting Eros to enter.

A guest book lay on the large desk in the reception room.

The monk pensively leafed through a few pages and then wrote down Eros' name.

"You can stay for a few days."

"Where do I get a pass?"

"You've just received one," replied Simeon.

"Thank you. I didn't know it was so simple."

"Well, it's not. Didn't you let us know you were coming a few days ago?"

"A few days ago, I didn't even know about your monastery," said Eros frankly.

"How strange... And what brought you to the Holy Land?"

"Life's leading me... I bring the key to love," replied Eros.

"Good... one of the brothers will show you where to sleep," said Father Simeon, lost in thought, as though he hadn't heard Eros' answer.

He introduced him to the man in charge of rooms for pilgrims stopping at the monastery. Eros followed him down the dark corridor.

"Who are you?" Eros asked the unusually silent man after a while, who was leading him down the corridor without a word, so that the only thing to be heard was their footsteps.

"Nobody... I came and stayed," replied the man without looking at Eros.

He opened the door to a room where two pilgrims were already sleeping. Eros also lay down on the straw mattress, lay his head on a flat stone and fell asleep.

It was still pitch dark outside when one of the pilgrims awoke Eros.

"Get up, the liturgy's starting... I'm Alexander."

"Eros."

Eros followed the shadow across the spacious courtyard to an unusual church built on three levels, with three semi-circular rooms. They entered through the main door.

Alexander crossed himself three times, bowed deeply before a small altar, and then kissed the icon on it. Somebody approached Eros out of the darkness. It was "Nobody:"

"Bow and cross yourself!"

Eros did as Alexander had done. Then he followed him again, up the steps into the central room. The candles there cast long shadows and in their glow Eros slowly started to make out the priceless works of art adorning the interior. Through the passage into the third room he could hear a liturgy in an ancient tongue that he couldn't understand. He watched the faces of the monks lost in prayer, and for a moment it seemed to him that they were no longer in their worlds, but had been carried off to some unknown place as though in a trance.

"You're not allowed to enter the third room, but you may sit here on the chair by the wall," whispered "Nobody" behind him.

"Why can't I go there?"

"That's the Holy Place, only for believers. And you're not a believer."

Eros sat down and enjoyed the singing emanating from the holiest part of the church. He didn't know the ritual and so he copied what the others were doing. He stood up when they stood up, he crossed himself when they crossed themselves, and he sat down again on his folding chair when they sat down. The monk next to him showed him how to raise the seat so he could lean against it in a half-standing position.

"So you don't have to go from extreme to the other," he said, patting him on the shoulder.

The monks started leaving the church through the side door at first light, and then they gathered under the arch in the corridor opposite the church. Then someone rang a bell, a big door opened and they entered the refectory, richly adorned with frescoes. At the end of the hall was an icon of Theotokos Triherusa—the Virgin Mary with Three Hands. She was the true hegumenia of the monastery.

Victuals were set on the long wooden tables. The people arranged themselves in rows, crossed themselves, and sat down. Then somebody started reading from the Bible, and the rest ate in silence until he finished.

After breakfast the pilgrims thanked the monks; they bowed to them and kissed their hands. Some of the brothers didn't like this and pulled their hands away.

The sun was shining on the lawn in the middle of the courtyard. It was only now that Eros noticed that a large part of the northern wing of the monastery had no roof and that the walls were black with soot. Scaffolding stood alongside them and a few workers were passing broken tiles through the window.

"A few years ago a fire destroyed almost half of the monastery. It was a true miracle that it didn't destroy any of the great treasures," explained a young monk.

"Isn't this mighty medieval building also a great treasure?"

"We have a few items in the monastery that are even more precious. If the fire had destroyed these, the damage would've been irreparable. The building will be fixed... It'll be even more beautiful in a few years... and even older," smiled the young monk.

"Is it possible to see the treasures that you keep here?" Eros wanted to know.

"Of course. I'll ask for the key to the treasury."

The treasures that had been carefully stored in the monastery's treasury were breathtaking. Artistically worked icons embellished with gold, silver, and precious stones, and leather-bound manuscripts, richly illustrated and gilded. Faded documents with royal signatures and seals that attested to history, and other old texts that were resisting oblivion with every ounce of their strength. There were also ancient notes on treating diseases and curing other ailments. And fabrics and needlework, pictures and statues, glass and porcelain vessels, and reliquaries that bore witness to a millennium of the power wielded by the monks at this old monastery.

Eros speechlessly viewed the priceless treasures and listened to the monk telling him about various important events connected with individual objects.

Artists from various periods had depicted the life of the Savior and his mother, who was especially venerated here. One of the works depicted the three Magi at the Epiphany. They all had crowns and were richly clothed; each one's name was written below and each one held a gilded chest of gifts.

Eros' attention was soon caught by another similar painting, older than the first. In this one, the Magi had no crowns and their clothes were somewhat less luxurious, but they were still portrayed as nobility. He also noticed that the men were of different ages, that their names were written differently than in the first painting, and that the contents of the chests they were holding had been changed.

Eros was dumbstruck by the third depiction of the three. The painting was so old that the scene could hardly be recognized. They were no longer depicted as nobles, but as intellectuals; their clothing was simple and they weren't holding chests with precious gifts.

Eros bent towards the painting so that he could study their faces. Here they were also depicted with different skin colors, their names were written differently once again, and the gifts they were holding had changed once again. He was completely taken by this.

"Who are these three men?" asked Eros.

"Those are the Three Kings or Wise Men... some people also call them the Magi. They announced the news of the birth of His Messenger... Our faith says that He doesn't have two natures... Divine and human... but only one."

"Tell me about the wise men! Why does each painting depict them differently and why did the artists gradually change their names and gifts? Isn't it known who's who, and who brought what?"

"We don't know much about them and different sources say different things."

"I'd like to know what this one shows, the oldest painting," persisted Eros.

"When the Wise Men came to the place where the Prophet was born, the youngest of them was the first to approach him. He saw that the newborn child was of the same age and mentality."

"Is this him?" asked Eros, pointing at a wise man with the brightest, childish face.

"Yes, that's Melgon. He's said to have come from Arabia. His name means 'My king is the light'... After him the second Wise Man, who was middle-aged, approached the child."

"Jasper of Tarsus," said Eros pointing at the man whose face was somewhat darker than Melgon's.

"Yes, his name means 'the king's treasurer'... Jasper was also surprised to see that the Prophet was his age and had the same character... Balthazar was the last to approach the child."

"It says Bēl-šarru-uṣur under the picture," said Eros with surprise.

"Which means 'Bel, protect the king.' He's said to have come from Saba and he also discovered the same thing as the other two... The Prophet had his age and character."

Eros looked at the picture of the old man with a wrinkled, black face.

"When the Wise Men told each other what they had seen, they found out that all three of them had recognized their own character in the child, and so they decided to go to the cradle together. This time they also decided to test him with their gifts. If he chose incense, which Melgon was carrying in this painting, it would mean he was similar to him. If he chose Jasper's gift, gold, this would show that he was more similar to him, and if he preferred the myrrh that Balthazar was holding, that would be a sign that the Prophet was similar to him."

"What's myrrh?"

"Balthazar was said to be a skilled healer and precious myrrh was once used as medicine... But it was only when all three of them approached the Prophet that they saw with surprise that in fact he was a baby boy exactly thirteen days old. When they showed him the gifts, the child chose all three, and that was a clear sign that he could recognize the truth."

"Weren't the wise men able to recognize it?" asked Eros with surprise.

"No. Why else would they have thrown away his gift? The baby gave them a stone, but they didn't understand the message of a plain stone and they threw it away, and so they lost the truth."

"How come the wise men's ages, names, and gifts gradually got mixed up?"

"It doesn't matter who brought what. The important thing is what the Prophet received."

"Maybe that's a lot more important than you imagine... This one, the oldest painting, depicts the truth, but no one understands it anymore."

Eros was lost in thought... This was the first time in his life that he'd heard the story, but somehow it seemed very familiar to him.

"You're not a believer. Why are you interested in life in the monastery?" asked the young monk, rousing Eros from his thoughts.

"Life's sending me to worlds where I'm needed. I bring the truth about love, but I don't know who needs it. Maybe..."

"Maybe you should talk to Brother Simeon," said the young monk, blushing a bit.

"Simeon?"

"He manages things at the reception office in the mornings. You'll definitely find him there."

Eros headed towards the entrance. He found Simeon at his desk, talking on the telephone.

He sat down on the bench outside the door and waited for the monk to hang up the phone. He watched the faithful bringing gifts. Because Father Simeon was busy, they set them in the corner of the reception office. A pile of bottles, jars of homemade jam and pickled cucumbers, new linens, and even diapers accumulated on the floor.

"Eros! Have you found what you were looking for?" asked Brother Simeon happily, hanging up the phone.

"I haven't, so I've come to you."

"How can I help you?"

"I'd like to..."

Even before Eros could finish his sentence, the phone rang again. Simeon had to solve another problem. This time it was the workers renovating the monastery.

Eros had no choice but to sit on the stone bench by the door again. 'Nobody' came by, holding a pile of blankets.

"Do you need any help?" offered Eros.

"I'll manage," he replied and left, again without looking Eros in the eye.

Now Simeon had finished his telephone conversation, but Father Seraphin came to visit him from the neighboring monastery. As Simeon and Seraphin passed Eros in the hallway, Simeon suggested to Eros:

"Talk to Father Methodius. He's very learned and well-read; he'll surely be able to help you find the answers."

And Eros was left alone again. Then he saw Alexander and his pilgrim friend leaving the monastery.

"Come join us for a walk down to the beach," they suggested.

Together they set out on the dusty road towards the sea.

"What's your friend's name?" asked Eros.

"He's also an Alexander and we were also born on the same day, but not the same year."

"The man who brought us the linens says that you're not a believer," said the other Alexander.

"That's right," said Eros.

"So why are you here then?"

"I'm bringing the truth about love."

"The truth about love?" asked the both Alexanders with surprise.

"A dog told me about it. It cured my sorrow and I promised him that I'd also help others with the truth."

The Alexanders looked at each other and started laughing loudly.

"Do you talk with dogs a lot?"

"Never before and never after that."

"I read a book about demons not long ago. It also mentioned a dog."

"The dog said he was the metaphor of Life."

"Did you think that he'd admit to you, just like that, that you were talking to the Devil himself?"

"He claims that all evil stems solely from our three minds!"

"God gave us one mind, not three! Your words are blasphemous," said the first Alexander, becoming serious.

"Maybe he only gave you one, and my words really are the work of the Devil, but only in your world."

"You're not a believer! You should be driven from this place... You're immoral!"

"They teach you to love and respect people regardless of who they are and how they think. They teach you to step back if you can't help, yet still you're willing to hate me merely because you can't understand what I'm saying?"

"Your thoughts blaspheme my God!"

"And your words blaspheme my Life!"

"But this the Holy Land after all!"

"If my presence insults its holiness, I'll leave."

"You're lucky. Not too long ago they would've burned you at the stake for thinking like that."

"Does your god say that you can judge people who don't think like you do? And how do you explain the words 'Don't take life because you didn't give it'?... You'd just gather sticks and light a fire, and then the one that gave me life would take it away from me?!"

"One day you'll also recognize the power of His word!"

"Did your God only speak once or did this happen many times?" asked Eros.

"Rest assured that he wouldn't speak with you, non-believer!"

The second Alexander didn't talk much; he listened to Eros words and thought about them.

It had gotten dark.

Their conversation lasted late into the night. When they returned to the monastery, there was no light to be seen anywhere. Before they lay down to rest, the second Alexander asked Eros:

"What's your truth about?"

"About love," replied Eros.

"And who does it serve?"

"People that yearn for happiness," said Eros.

"Then it's good," said Alexander and turned out the light.

After breakfast Eros went and found Father Methodius.

"I'd like to talk with you," he said, bowing.

"About what?"

"I've been sent to give someone the truth, but I can't figure out who it's meant for."

"Whoever's sent to us is here because of the answers that we know, and not because of questions we might have."

"So what should I do with my truth?"

"Who says it's the truth?"

"He who can answer all questions."

"A lot of people who believe in Him live convinced that they have spoken with Him, but they're mistaken. Why do you think He'd have turned to you when you said that you don't believe in Him?"

"Maybe exactly because of that. Every person has the right to their own idea about Him and I've never claimed that mine's the right one. After all, I only talked with a dog."

"Our truth's thousands of years old."

"Is that good or bad?" asked Eros, wrinkling his nose.

Methodius smiled:

"The truth is eternal, my dear brother."

"The only question is whether we still understand it. They presented it to me in such a way that I couldn't accept it. In the end, that's exactly why I'm not a believer."

"It's never too late for a person to see the light."

"Does that only apply to me?"

"For anyone seeking the truth... I'll find a few books for you. I'll leave them in the reception office with Father Simeon," said Father Methodius, concluding their conversation, and left.

Eros was standing in his corner of the church, thinking about life. Not far from him sat an old monk, hunched over in prayer. His hands were clutching the chair so that he wouldn't slip out of it. He had a world-weary look. A stroke had sapped his last strength and his body was able to still manage its tasks only with difficulty. The right side of his face was paralyzed, and his eyelid hung over his eye, taking away his vision.

Suddenly the old man turned towards Eros, dumbstruck as though he'd seen a ghost.

He raised his head as though he wanted to ask Who are you, stranger?

Then he looked away.

I'm seeing this young man for the first time, so why do I have the feeling that I've known him all my life? flashed the thought through his mind. Maybe he looks like someone I know?

He looked at Eros again. This time their eyes met and the old man was overcome by an unusual feeling of warmth. This feeling was also familiar to him, although it was the first time he had experienced it. The old monk bowed his head again and resumed praying. But when he looked at Eros for the third time, he was overcome with tears. Although he could see with only one eye, he saw something that none of the other monks had seen.

Then a man came to him and took him by the arm. The old man whispered something to him and pointed toward Eros. The man raised the monk to his feet and helped him towards the side exit. They made their way forwards slowly and, when they came close to Eros, the old man motioned to him with his finger to follow them. Eros held the door for them and then followed them down the steps.

In the daylight the old man carefully looked at Eros again. Eros kissed his hand and asked him:

"Would you like to speak to me?"

He sensed that the old man saw the truth in the depth of his eyes.

"Father Athanasius is gravely ill... he can't talk with you. Please, have the consideration not to burden his thoughts with your search," said the man supporting the old monk.

"He's not searching," said Athanasius, beginning to cry again.

Eros reached out and stroked the back of his hand.

"Come at three o'clock tomorrow. That's when we gather at the cistern," said the old man, pointing at the stone overhang by the church, below which stood a table.

An old grapevine was growing out of a crack in a tomb, climbing up the roof over the cistern.

There were a lot of people at the monastery, so there was no shortage of work. Eros saw what the pilgrims helped the monks with all of the chores and he also offered to help himself. He went to the rooms where the pilgrims slept and wanted to help tidy up, but "Nobody" refused his help, saying that he would make the beds himself. He wanted to help in the kitchen, but there they also told him that they didn't need any assistance. When everyone else refused his help, he asked the young monk why they kept rejecting him, but his roommates were working all day.

"You came to find what you were looking for. That's much more important than what we can gain from your help."

The next day Eros could hardly wait for the clock on the wall of the courtyard to strike three. He went over to the monks who had gathered in the shade beneath the stone overhang. Athanasius wasn't there yet.

"May I join you?" asked Eros.

"Of course," replied an older monk, pointing to an empty space on the bench.

Now the others stopped chatting and looked at Eros.

"You say that you're bringing us the truth," said one of the brothers on the other side of the table.

"That's right, the truth of Life," replied Eros.

"Does that mean that you deny our truth?"

"My truth doesn't oppose yours, just as it doesn't oppose any other faith in the world."

"But different faiths oppose each other."

"Only our perspectives on them oppose one another. Everyone can create their own truth in their world ... just like their perspective on the truth of Life."

Athanasius was slowly coming down the wooden steps towards them. He walked carefully, step by step, leaning on a haji. When he reached the overhang, a few monks stood up and politely offered him their place, but Athanasius sat down next to Eros.

"Tell us all about the truth, please," he said quietly, taking Eros by the hand.

Eros told the monks his unusual story of how he met the dog. He told them how his truth had comforted him, how it had removed the pain from his broken heart, he told them about the three minds and about the twelve human characters.

"Those are His words!" exclaimed Athanasius and started crying.

"Brother, your truth's different and maybe it really doesn't oppose ours. But that still doesn't mean it's from Him. A lot of people believe what they want to believe and so they see what they want to see."

Eros remembered Life's words. He remembered that it had told him that the truth would be opposed most strongly precisely by those who believed they were speaking in its name. For such people he should have seven proofs to convince everyone who didn't believe his words. Now he'd need at least one, but he didn't have any.

He studied the picture that Athanasius had placed on the table, the icon of the Virgin Mary with Three Hands. He suddenly noticed three precious stones set in gold below her left shoulder. They were like the constellation of three stars that he had seen when he first heard the Passacaglia. A bit lower on the icon there were four more stones, which reminded him of the derivation of the proof of time as the fourth dimension. The three hands showing the truth reminded him of the three minds... These can also be easily proven but, nonetheless, nobody knew about them... In the blink of an eye, he had three proofs available that he hadn't even thought of until now. Then he felt a very light drumming, an almost imperceptible shaking of the ground, so faint that nobody else except him noticed it. It was a tremor and this unusual coincidence reminded him of the explanation of the movement of the continents.

The monks looked at Eros with expectation. For a moment, he was lost in thought, as though he was still seeking an answer that he had on the tip of his tongue. But worlds were turning inside his head. Now he could easily understand things that he hadn't connected until now... He remembered winter and summer and the fat man who'd refused food and didn't understand why his body was putting on fat... So only the sixth and seventh proofs of Life hadn't been revealed to him yet.

"He knew that you'd doubt and so he left me seven proofs," Eros finally said, "proofs that nobody else in the world can provide!"

"We don't need any proofs for Him. We can't doubt Him," replied the haji.

"But doubt can still be seen in your eyes... you doubt that I'm telling the truth."

"You're speaking His words," said Athanasius.

"What kind of proofs are you talking about? Can you work miracles?" someone on the other side of the table wanted to know.

"If a miracle like the one shown in this icon happened, you'd find a different explanation for it," said Eros.

"We'd ascribe it to Her and not you," replied an older monk.

"That's right. What kind of proof would there have to be to convince you?"

Nobody could answer Eros' question.

"He revealed seven mysteries to me that nobody else in the world knows. Someone can unravel one of them with a lot of knowledge and some luck. With these seven mysteries—which are in completely different areas on top of everything else—only his plan could hide behind this coincidence."

Eros drew a staff on a piece of paper and explained the mystery of the Passacaglia to the monks.

They were dumbstruck.

"The young man's wrong!" said a monk, taking the piece of paper to have a closer look. "It's known that Bach borrowed the melody from a French composer named André Raison!"

The monks waited to see what Eros would say.

"That's true, but Bach only took the first part of the melody from him, and Marchand's name is hidden in the part he added himself."

Another monk took the piece of paper with the staff on it. He wrote a few formulas below the staff, then multiplied the numbers, and finally spoke:

"The young man's right! My calculation shows that the probability of the sequence creating such a long name by coincidence is two times ten to the minus thirteenth, which is approximately a hundred thousand times less likely than the probability of picking seven correct numbers in the lottery. No other attempt to unravel the mystery of the Passacaglia can even compare with the certainty of his explanation."

"The young man is telling the truth," repeated Athanasius, crying again.

The monks were so engaged in their discussion that they missed the beginning of the afternoon liturgy. During the service they went over to Eros in his corner, bringing him small gifts, including icons with the monastery's seal.

"I know I can't convince you, but I can tell you that it's a great blessing for those who join us. I'll give you some titles... if you'd like to think it over," the haji whispered in his ear.

"You're good people and you respect His word, but my place isn't among you. I have to move on."

The haji pressed a small icon of the Virgin Mary with Three Hands into Eros' palm and left, saying:

"God be with you!"

"And He with you indeed," replied Eros.

When he walked out the church door, he was overwhelmed by the beautiful colors in the sky. The birds were lower and lower over the courtyard and everything was unusually quiet. He was overcome by a strange sensation, as though the ground had suddenly begun to move beneath his feet. He looked towards the front of the monastery, at the windows and balconies, which had started to blend into one another, at the birds, which were coming down to the ground, and the trees, which were shrinking together. Now he realized that it wasn't birds coming down from the sky, but the images of memories. People, events, thoughts, and feelings were dancing around Eros, as though at a last dance bidding farewell to the life of the three friends.

Then everything went dark.

End of [psi] book sample.

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