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And Prometheus was invented afterward

Memory of the universe

— What is it? — I asked.
— A board game, — Eric smiled as he sat down on the table in front of me and placed this strange shining thing next to me. — Do you want to play?
— Of course,- I nodded, peering into the overflows under the glass.
Is it glass?
I touched the smooth surface, tapped the plaque with my fingernail.
— What is this game, what are the rules?
— Simple, — Eric spun the plaque on the table. — guess the year, spin the top, it stops. You ask a question that you want to get an answer for the era and look.
— Wow, — I leaned back in my chair, — where did you get it?
— Who does care, Amiy?
— It matters, I would take a few for gifts.
— They are not sold in stores yet, — Eric laughed velvety.
— What is it really?
— The memory of the universe. Memory card, — shrugged Eric.
I took the plaque and peered into it carefully. That is why the ever-changing pattern resembled everything in the world. It was the purpose of this glitter — to remind.
— Is it important for anyone to keep it? The memory of the universe?
I still wanted to believe that there was someone who cared.
Eric laughed again and shook his head. His inky eyes, however, looked without mockery.
— No, but I thought it would be funny. When this universe is gone, it will be fun to revisit its stories from time to time.
It would be funny. I shivered.
— What are you afraid of? — he chuckled, — you, unlike the universe, are alive, so you will always be.

Answers of Universe

So, it’s all over now. Request has been sent. Now we need only to wait and fix. We decided to take forty-five minutes to wait. If there is no answer, then we disperse, and the observers wait and fix the changes. Forty-five minutes is the natural time for the brain to work intensively, then it will involuntarily relax. Therefore, if you are working hard on something, take a break after forty-five minutes, otherwise the brain will take a break instead you. You may not notice, but after that, ten or fifteen minutes will be wasted for it and for your task. Then go on. And so, as many times as needed. Then, be sure to give your brain a rest for a few hours — do not load it with new information that needs to be considered, let it work in a distracted mode for three or four hours, do something with your hands or feet, sort out old things, files on the computer, take a walk. If you follow this simple rule, your productivity will be higher, your health will be better, your life will be brighter and longer.
So we waited. Minutes crept slowly, and nothing happened. The concentration of tension in the room seemed to be palpable. I looked at my colleagues, how their fanatically sparkling eyes fixed on the screen. Some met my gaze and smiled happily. Everyone hoped. Have you ever seen hope? I have. An effective girl. It is understandable why they cling so desperately to her and try to keep and save her at any cost. No answer. It’s only been three minutes. But it seemed more than eternity. Of course, I was also interested, I was also very worried, but, you know, I did not really believe that something would come of it. There is too much data here, yes, they are all taken into account in the experiment, even if some answer is fixed, and the rest of the requests confirm the experiment, it will be necessary to analyze what kind of answer it is, how independent it is, whether it is electrical background garbage. And I, too, will have to work, trying to understand whether there is a living psychological pattern of personality in this info-noise. That is, whether it is a person who answers, or whether it is a random set of signals, similar to information, jokes of the electro-magnetic field.
Therefore, I was engaged in my basic work, studied the psychological background of my colleagues. Read minds, as they say at the philistine level. Maybe that’s what let me down. I heard their aspirations, confident and timid, happy and anxious. I saw how a confident young predator settled down among the observers Eric. What is he doing here? Well, ok, his brother brought him. Embarrassed, how often from his look, I did not linger on him, in his dark ink eyes shone and shimmered either the sun, or some other star, and he looked at me. He didn’t smile, but I thought I saw a smile on his clear lips. I began to think about the experiment. And how, in general, should their God answer so that everyone rejoices? You feel? With what feeling should he answer «yes»? Joy that someone asked? Basic sadness from his divine loneliness? But this contradicts religious history, Elohim is a plural, God is not alone, in no denomination. I imagined an omnipotent being that hears our rhythm. And he answers with a thoughtful expectation of the solution of some of his tasks. Yes, probably so.Velvet «it is» of Shimeji Akhor, a mathematical linguist, drowned in the joyful exclamations of colleagues. 

Bifurcation point

— What are you drawing?- Eric sat down on the arm of the chair.
I specifically ordered chairs with wide arms to make him comfortable.
— A branching Model.
Eric looked at the flower, the rays of which were whole worlds.
— Beautiful, but they do not diverge so beautifully in parallel rays, they are all mixed up.
— They’re mixed up. It just looks so orderly from the bifurcation point. It’s more convenient for me to watch.
— Is this your model, or what? -Eric looked at me.
— Yes.
— And what did you designate as a bifurcation point?
— The meeting with you.
— Indeed? — smiled and incredulously mockingly asked Eric.
— Indeed, — I smiled too, leaning back in my chair and twisting back and forth in it a little, rolling Eric too, — everything that happened before is unimportant.

a privilege to be a Firokamian

It’s a privilege to be a Firokamian.

«There is a joyful revival on the Lookout! A few minutes until launch!» – Shesha Svarat’s tone encouraged an endorphin explosion.

Channel «Faster!» got access to the launch itself, so their journalist had a great view.
Firokami was launching another satellite. Another innovation. Another breakthrough. A lot of the word «another», right? Well, ordinary thing for Firokami. Another thing, I would say.
This satellite covered an area where our receivers were not.
The long-ago, now long-standing, kidnapping of Alk, then still Space, gave Firokami a good scare. And although everything ended beautifully, in Firokami style, even romantically, the City began to think about how to protect its citizens there, outside, in the wild underdeveloped world. After this, they found a way to implant a shocker into the body, after this the microchipping of Firokami residents began.
Yes, I know, this is your greatest fear now, a government that can find its citizen – what could be more terrible in your countries and in your time? In our time, by the way, despite the fact that I am writing to you centuries later… or rather, the author is writing it down now, but I am dictating to you centuries later, the world continues to be afraid of microchipping. Probably it’s justified. If I lived outside of Firokami, I would be afraid too. But for us it is a privilege. Firokami does not force anyone to be chipped, of course. People go on their own. Because Firokami is not hostile to its citizens. Ruthless – yes, but not hostile. The only reason Firokami might need to find a person is to help them. Or ask for help. We catch criminals differently.
Eric and I watched the launch of Satellite-27 on the broadcast. I didn’t go to the launch, I don’t like crowds. By the way, it’s nice to meet you who started reading from this note, my name is Amiy Lutherna. I am a cosmopsychologist, and I developed part of the Satellite cognitive behavioral program. The latter has an updated version 27. It is able to detect not only the subtlest signal from a gadget or chip. By the way, the signals themselves are amplified by the jammers used in the rest of the world. But this is not the innovation. The new satellite has been loaded with a telemetry database from Firokami residents. That is, the satellite, in its coverage area, is capable of finding a resident of the City, identifying them using many parameters and transmitting their location to the base in Firokami. Another surprise for the world. Another privilege to be a Firokamian.

Considering minority

And so, I’m watching an old star, so beloved by many directors of that time, and only as a result of popularity having fans. You know, there are some celebrities, who have fans, but these fans are of such a human quality (as fans) that if you slip them another star, they won’t notice. That is, these people would watch the movie without this actor, without their favorite star. But there are people to whom this star is a reason not to watch a film. There’s a law emerging, by the way, it’s one of the laws of success Firokamian art, our producers take into account not the majority but the minority, whose opinion is more substantiated and because of this, more charismatic, and the majority will catch up, thanks to good advertising. The majority always catches up. It’s a common mistake to think that the minority can be ignored. It isn’t the minority that follows the majority, but the pack follows the leader. And there are no leaders in majority. But if you take into account the leader, they will lead the pack.

Full death

“It’s sad,” Derek Lambron said earnestly, yet without a trace of sorrow. A physicist-inventor. A loner. Yet, an honored guest at our SRI.
Calling him a loner is quite relative, of course. He utilizes the efforts of entire laboratories, just like all scientists who aspire to achieve something significant. But Derek lives alone, not in the Science Town, but in Firokami itself, working solo without even assistants. Who knows what deamons help him.
Only when he participates in an experiment as a honorary guest, is he provided with a support group.
In our routine operations, we grapple with the problem of immortality. Or rather, I misspoke; immortality isn’t the problem, death is. In Firokami, lifespans stretch for several centuries, yet even after those, people neither wish to age nor die. Why would they, if life is such that one would like to live forever? Death is a desired outcome only for those who find no place in life. But in Firokami there are many things to do besides death.
Derek discovered something in his observations and came to share the phenomenon with us.
Like Lodge Cutter (the doctor and owner of the Clinic for Innovation and New Forms of Life), he has the ability to transcend boundaries, to gaze upon the source of life, to bring back the deads—in short, a formidable physicist.
“Yep, it’s sad,” I agreed, looking at the creature whose glowing tentacles hung lifelessly around, only one was stretched taut like a string.
“When I found him, there were three streams left. In one life, it was a non-communicative; in another, a disabled being; in the third, a beetle,” Derek explained, “Now, only the beetle remains. The beetle could die at any moment. I came so we could observe together…”
“Complete death,” I said.
“Not necessarily. I still advocate the idea that there is no death,” Lambron stated calmly and seriously, “We shall see what happens to the creature upon… let’s say, the complete death of attention.”
Yes, I was invited to observe the complete death of attention of a living being.
My name is Amiy Lutherna. I am a cosmopsychologist. I live in a high-tech city, in the distant future.

A complete death

For weeks, nothing happened. The creature simply stood, while the multicolored streams lay lifelessly beside it. It seemed oblivious to its own complete demise. But perhaps that was just the case. How would you notice you’re dead if you are dead? Awareness is the privilege of the living.

  “Let’s observe the future, fast-forward it, lest it stands there for millions of years,” Lambron suggested.

  “You can see into the future?” I asked, as casually as possible.

  “M-n,” Derek mumbled incoherently, approaching the control panel, “at the level where our subject is — yes. It stands up to the bifurcation point, so we can follow the string and see what happens next. Well, only up to the branching point. But we don’t care what happens after the bifurcation point… if it even occurs. It might indeed be a complete death.”

The panel displayed a moment of changed signal. It wouldn’t have shown anything if there had been no signal. The streams changed color, dimmed; they still lay lifelessly around the creature, their colors shifting.

  “I suppose the creature has been ‘feeding’ off what’s in these electromagnetic streams all this time,” Derek glanced at the readings, “for 1,357,898 years.”

  “A million years of solitude,” I shook my head.

 

  “Yes, but perhaps the creature doesn’t even understand that. It perceives electromagnetic signals. That’s exactly how we perceive another being nearby.”

I peered into the screen.

  “So, it’s looking at memories now? Sifting through everything it saw, lived through, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

What a repugnant personal hell. Though, maybe it’s just me who finds it disgusting and sad, while others might enjoy reliving and examining their past alone.

  “Let’s fast-forward to the moment the signals fade,” I said.

Now, I wanted to see what the creature would do when the impulse ran out. I was no longer afraid to witness a complete death.

Adventures of Amiy Lutherna, AlbireoMKG

Take everythingl

Night of the Spirits

And then a tall thin warrior stood up. His face, like many others’, was hidden under a shamakh. He held out his palms and began silently reciting the incantation. A whirlwind of light appeared in the air, there was a loud roar, it smelled of heat, a face gathered from wisps of light and rushed towards the audience with a cry. But the whirlwind pulled the face back in and the whirlwind disappeared.
The next to come out was a graceful warrior, his eyes were also not covered with a cloth. It was clear from her voice that it was a woman.
— Pass the sauce,- a woman from a nearby rug whispered to Saladdin, pointing to a jug on his rug.
Salah started up, carried away by what was happening, thoughtlessly going to fulfill the request. «Don’t talk to each other and don’t ask each other for anything,» interfered warning flashed into his mind. Saladdin slowly turned to the woman and stared at her.
— Sauce,- the woman smiled, pointing to the jug, holding out her hand so deftly that it seemed completely impolite not to serve it.
Light green eyes laughed, and the face was covered with a dark cloth, like almost all children of the sand.
Saladdin remained silent in concentration, looking at the woman, making no attempt to move. He might have looked at her reproachfully, but he was too interested in what would happen next, and he waited.
The woman’s face contorted, she quickly and smoothly leaned towards Saladdin, opening her mouth so that it became visible from behind the bandage, but the power of the spell that the reader completed pulled her and several other spirits from the carpets into the sky. Discordant astonished sighs were heard from the guests.
The next caster was quite young. After his spell, the spirits of the desert rose before the eyes of the audience, as if the sand came to life. Luminous in the light of the moon, the silhouettes looked towards the people, their eyes shone in different colors. And although, apart from the spell of the reader, it was quiet in the desert, it seemed that a quiet, sad and solemn melody was playing. The desert spirits looked frightening. It seemed that if this whole army rushed at the people, then the poor people would not be able to cope.

Frey wanted to pull Iska closer to him, but during the spell it was impossible, so he just moved a little closer to him.
The reader finished reading the spell, and the sinister army just silently disappeared.
There were many readers, and it was amazing how many different invisible creatures live here. Several times the spirits tried to deceive people — to give something, to ask for something. Roshach warned the reciters several times between speeches not to talk to each other during the speech and not to fulfill any requests.
Roshach stepped onto the platform, the children of the sand hummed.
— Now they will conjure the genie of dreams,- said Kamal to the children from the palace.
— He is very dangerous,-Fadva said, -he takes on the appearance of a familiar person, feeds on feelings.

Dangerous spell

The genie, in the form of Iska, leaned towards Frey, who briefly cast a spell:
— I see you, Khanas, don’t even think about it.
Iskander sighed convulsively, the visions disappeared, and as if everything was forgotten immediately, a vague pleasant feeling remained, as if he had just been thinking about something very important and pleasant, but Frey’s voice distracted him, and now the sheikh could not even roughly remember the direction of his thoughts.
With a short cry Jallal lost consciousness.
– Puppy, – Frey gritted, – Khanas, let the boy go.
From a nearby carpet, a man with scarlet glowing eyes turned to Frey. Apart from the eyes, he looked like any of the children of the sand, also wrapped in a dark cloth.
— This is my prey, -the genie spoke melodiously.
— No, the children from that carpet are my preys. I got them before you.
— Well, take them,- Khanas chuckled.
— Otherwise, you will not like your new spell, and I will conjure you next time. Unless, of course, I’m busy,- Frey said.
– A new spell? — the genie laughed, snake-quickly leaned towards Frey.
— You will spend the rest of your time in the arms of Rufus.
Khanas laughed incredulously.
— You can’t know Rufus’ spell.
— Do you want to check? -Frey chuckled.
Iskander looked a little stunned at the genie, everything seemed familiar to him, as if he had seen it all before. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he recognized every moment that happened. The sheikh looked at Jallal and felt restless again. Iskander opened his mouth and closed it, turning to Frey, for some reason he was sure that the Viking was able to solve this without his intervention. The Sheikh rubbed his hand, which tingled slightly.

— You are too young, you could not have time to learn the spell of Rufus, — said the genie.
— Will you take risks and check or just let the children go? Keep in mind, I don’t know how to cancel it, — Frey chuckled, — that is, I can’t just prove it to you without launching it.
The genie tossed his head arrogantly.
— You won’t deceive me, human, you would have to live two hundred years to be able to cast this spell.
Frey got up and went to the platform where the readers were leaving and where he was now preparing for the locking spell of the Master of the Garden of Dreams Roshach. Khanas moved closer to Iskander, gracefully folded his arms across his chest. The sheikh sighed and said to himself:
— He will fulfill what he has promised, I don’t know how, but he usually needs quite a bit of time to learn how to harm someone. He knows how to break plans.
Khanas looked attentively at Iskander, then at the confident Viking.
— He’s probably already became friends with this Rufus, and Rufus probably owes him something,- said Iskander, feeling irritated again for some reason.

The genie laughed uncertainly.
— That can’t be, Rufus is dead and he disappeared many years ago even there. He is lost in the world of the dead.
— Roshach, let me recite a spell for Khanas,- said Frey.
— How can I know that you are not Khanas himself?- Roshach chuckled.
— You can always read your spell after mine,- Frey suggested with a shrug.
Roshach thought for a moment and left the platform. Frey began to cast a spell. Khanas exhaled a chuckle in a particularly touching way and looked at Iskander.
– This is not it! I knew that the man was deceiving me!
— Maybe it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work, it’s better to let everyone go as soon as possible.
For some reason, Iskander was sure that Frey was not bluffing and that he really had a way to summon a dead sorcerer. But even if he was deceiving, Iskander was ready to support him. Again Frey was saving his son, now the second one, and he was helpless in this situation.
— He will regret that he wanted to deceive me,» Khanas said ominously.
Light scarlet lightning cut through the air above the desert, a majestic man with snow-white long hair, in a white hoodie with embroidered letters on it, appeared in the shining gap.
— Who dared to call me? — he asked coldly.

Children of the Sands

— Then you tell me why they want to kill me?
— They can kill you because of a bad mood, of resentment. But most likely you will be taken into the hills into slavery. And you won’t know how far you are. Yes, now you will see everything by your own, — Frey shook his head.
One of the riders shouted something and directed the horse towards a couple, grabbed Saladdin on the fly, but he managed to dodge, and immediately two hands from behind caught him and easily, as if he weighed nothing, threw him high into the air, another rider caught him, he also threw it into the air, and again Saladdin sank into someone’s hands, flew up again. The horses ran silently and swiftly, the riders passed the captive to each other, not allowing the prey to come to his senses. The prince was nauseated, disoriented, he was angry and tried to cling to something, but his hands slid over smooth dark clothes, the riders deftly and quickly threw the victim into the air, and raced towards the hills.
Finally, the frantic flights ended, the rider threw the exhausted victim onto the horse in front of him, shouted something to Saladdin, and blindfolded him with a black piece of cloth. Saladdin grabbed the horse’s mane. The rider unceremoniously ransacked Saladdin’s clothes, ridding him of weapons, shamefully felt his body, skillfully checking the hiding places, and took off his shoes. The prince tried to remove the bandage from his eyes, more in order to feel better, but he did not succeed, the bandage sat as if ingrown.
The race was over, Saladdin was pushed off his horse, he flew for some time, but fell into someone’s hands again, and only then was he thrown to the ground. The fall was not high, but very inconvenient, especially since Saladdin did not know how high he could fall. The prince fell, sat on the ground, reached for the knot of the bandage, trying to tear it off. Someone not strongly, but bitingly hit him on the hands, said something.

Someone else said something, a voice that sounded like Frey’s. Maybe Saladdin wanted the voice to be similar. The prince thought that Frey wanted to teach him a lesson, and was angry. He tore off this bandage, painfully tearing out the hairs on his head. In front of him was still the same dark line of riders and around him endless hills with openings.
Frey was nowhere to be seen.
Saladdin rose to his feet, bandage clutched in his hand, glaring furiously and expectantly at those around him. The rider dismounted, another, and another, the riders flowed down from the horses in a dark stream, one fanned thin blades in his palms, rolled them up and said something to Saladdin. The men pushed the prince in the back, pushing him towards the opening.

To the North

The sun began to set, the desert was showered with gold, the sand shimmered, drawing a sunny path, as if on water. Majestic silence somehow imperceptibly spilled into the darkening air. A thoughtful mood seized the people. Frey exhaled throatily, intoxicated, admiring the beauty of nature, carnivorously looked at Iska, the turquoise eyes of the Viking smiled radiantly.
«Won’t you stay the night with us?» Rajim asked without turning around.
«No, brother, not this time, the road is long, we want to spend the night outside the desert,» the Viking replied.
The son of sand nodded in understanding.
Some more time of pensive silence and the desert let the travelers out of their nets. Frey and Iskander said goodbye to Rajim, the children of the sand remained with their parent, and the caravan moved on.
Iskander turned back, it was like the first line, crossing which he said goodbye to the house. He again went to the north, involuntarily remembered that first campaign. How different they were. Iskander chuckled and glanced at Frey. The Viking seemed to radiate sunlight himself. The sheikh involuntarily admired the man, stroked the scar given by the northerner with his fingers. Something will happen on this journey. Must happen.

Extra puzzle

Den 38

The brothel was a very standard, unfinished building — thoughtfully unfinished, walls painted with inept graffiti, among which the encrypted gang correspondence was visible. Rodon and Khan had deciphered the codes of the City’s gangs long before Department 42, so Linial’s Dep operatives could read this correspondence as a chat on social networks. Concrete, stoves, fire pits — all courtesy of the city. Firokami contemptuously designed a thematic corner for marginals. There were hidden cameras, hidden wiretapping. The authorities at any moment could connect to any brothel and find out everything that happened there. Those degenerate, crazy, paranoid, who said that the Authorities listen to dens, were considered conspiracy theorists.
— Fadge, what’s up at 38?- Mergen asked.
— We are already looking at,- the technician replied.
With such technological development, it might seem that detectives don’t need to go «into the field», but the necessary reactions that showed where to dig, where to apply these technologies, a person gave out only to a living person. Therefore, the City was not afraid of technology, all of them were put at the service of people, not intending to replace him.
Groups of people wrapped in blankets and some rags wandered around the building, trying not to meet the eyes of the Authorities. The building had a shower with hot water, it was unprofitable to break showers, the punishment could be worse than prison. The fine could be forced to work out as a sex toy. And then Master could do not let them go. The service carried out sanitization in the brothels once a week. The dens were the refuge of the marginal, those who did not want to be part of the system, but did not want to leave Firokami either. But this should not have interfered with the «system» residents. Therefore, no smells and unsanitary conditions if you want to walk the streets of Firokami. And there is no, of course, «this is our area.» Otherwise, the real owners in the City staged demonstrations, whose area it is.
Therefore, misunderstood, unbuilt, played mental trauma among themselves. And the City, as usual, indifferently looked at this biomass, not distinguishing it from trees, garbage cans, houses and other furnishings. 

Extra puzzle

— There he is! — was heard right behind.
«Authority Shocker [1] is set to 3 meters by default, do not let them get closer to you from any side,» he remembered and climbed higher.
The main thing is not to break. «Don’t look where you came from, look where you’re going,» — now surfaced in my mind.
He did not kill this prostitute, of course, he did not kill her, he just saw the woman lying, went to check and felt a hand on his shoulder. The Authorities. He managed to wriggle out and started to run. «Never trust the Authorities» — so he was taught in the family.
And now two rips [2] are chasing him. He jumped to the parking floor, tumbling in the air.
— Damn parkour guys,- the tall blond swore and ran to the stairs.
— Here are his possible routes,- a deep and very soothing voice came from the gadgets, -the probability of the first one is 89%.
— You go on the first one, — the partner threw to the blond, also blond, only lower.
— Mgh, — the detective of the 42nd department quickly and easily rushed along the route.
The fugitive looked around quickly, trying to catch his pursuers with his eyes. He backed up the stairs, scanning the space, two more flights and he was on the road of the next floor of the City. «Always go the other way than your first impulse tells you,» he remembered. Quickly flying up, the fugitive rushed to the flight, and suddenly his breath stopped, the pain bent him in half. He looked up, a dark-haired, very handsome man smiling at him, only the dark cherry eyes remained dead and motionless. The man seemed so familiar, even as a family. Eagerly trying to inhale, the fugitive held out his hand to him. The man, with an elusive glance, grabbed his hand and twisted it. A new pain sobered him up, in his memory it surfaced: «you can’t grab the water», he completely relaxed and flowed out of the grip, instantly gathered himself and jumped down.

Pain entangled him while still in the air, he fell paralyzed on his back to the floor, but it did not more painful.
An angelic face leaned over him, blinding, like the sun, turquoise eyes looked calmly, the angel seemed to be smiling. He smiled at the celestial and fell into darkness.
— How did you get it, by the power of thought, or what? — the man with dead eyes smiled, descending, he smoothly and swiftly headed towards the «celestial».
— I have a shocker set to 5 meters. I don’t like to run,- his friend grinned and said into the gadget, -thank you, send emergency.

— Sent, came the reply.
— Ready? — a tall blonde ran into the lot.
— Yeah, — smiled, similar to him, like a brother, «celestial».
— We’ll pass him on to the Fifteenth, it’s none of our business, — the detective nodded and shook his head with a grin, sending the video to the Fifteenth Department, which was engaged in street murders, — nice try to go drinking coffee.
— I said, we should order it to the department, — a man with dead eyes gracefully sat down on a concrete step. A ray of spring sun insinuatingly crept into the parking lot, touched the man’s shoulder, he flinched, looked sharply at the ray and, recognizing, exhaled a smile.
— I don’t like to order,- the «celestial being» twitched the corner of his lips.
In the same parking lot, a thin, long-haired man in black stood opposite, silver eyes saw the guy’s attempt to escape from the Authorities. When the emergency arrived, the man left the parking lot.


[1] Law enforcement organization Firokami. An analogue of the police (not the police) — protects the population, is considered the embodiment of the will and law of the City. Since abuses of power are severely punished by the City, those willing to become addicted to them are rare. The law is already quite ruthless, without initiative on the ground. The power of the organization is almost unlimited.
[2] The slang name for the Authority in Firokami.

Rich enough

— Firokami has flourished so much that he can afford pockets of socialism, -Mergen grinned, looking around.
The scientific town of Firokami was a cozy corner of the quiet life of very smart people. Futuristic town, even by the standards of Firokami, it was the standard of the laws of harmony and aesthetics. Some kind of resonant and familiar feeling evoked this Town in everyone who found themselves in it. Sometimes those who admired the poignantly happy atmosphere came here to live. The Town was built according to the aspirations of humanistic scientific thought. Scientists of all times dreamed of such a future, and people received the most complete description of it during the outbreak of progress, many centuries ago, in the twentieth century, thanks to the works of humanistic science fiction writers.
The Town was closed, it was necessary to have an invitation from one of the residents to come here — Firokami kept the peace of his best minds. Residents of the Town were free to travel and live in Firokomi, because, in fact, the Town was a district of the City. The public, overbearing sexuality that was common in Firokami was not in favor here. Of course, here too people strayed into love groups, and here the scientists had slaves, but the personal life scientists left at home so as not to distract, not to involve others in games. Here the main interest of all was work and science. The guests of the Town passed the test — it was mandatory if you stay in the Town for more than a day — the test showed compatibility with the way of the Gorodok. More often there was incompatibility, which was not reported to the guest. The guest lived in the Town, imbued with harmony and beauty, walked, gasped, admired, problems began when he tried to convey his quasi-cynical opinion about life to the inhabitants of the Town, his disappointment with the meaninglessness of life, lamenting about himself in front of the bright naivety of scientists. In the Town, it was not customary to restrain oneself; scientists carried out the laws of some kind of secular tact only when leaving their native the Town. And dialectics reigned in the movement of scientific thought — all spheres of science intermingled. Any physicist in the Town could give odds to an ordinary «civilian» psychologist, and any historian to a «civilian» mathematician. Then, with all the pragmatism of a scientist, the interlocutor explained that all this mental lethargy and a sense of the meaninglessness of life from limitation and ignorance, dissatisfaction from the underdevelopment of the mind and inability to create. But even if such unpleasant conversations did not happen, after a while it became clear to the guest that it would not be possible to live here — no one showed interest in the guest, no one tried to integrate him into the life of the Town. It was all the more painful to see how friendly and joyfully they drew into life also a newcomer who moved here to work. You need to be on the wave of the Town, move where it aspired to, wish for the same. And then it became clear that the Town was the same Firokami, his next step. Even more ruthless, even more categorical, even more beautiful, even more selective. Only for those who have grown up, ready for such a life. So far, the Town was only an inconspicuous speck on the map, shaped like a biological heart, with four specks that looked like unknown runes, branches of the Town Research Institute in the south, west, east and north of Firokami.

— Well, that’s reasonable too. The visual meaning of life, — Khan shrugged.
— Hi, — melodiously sounded somehow as if everywhere.

Choice of the 4th TRIZ level

Keira’s consciousness sank into a soft soothing diamond darkness.
Lodge watched as the computer recorded and processed data from Keira’s brain and her electrical waves, watching where the girl’s consciousness fell.
A happy feeling of confidence enveloped Keira again. How could she think such nonsense? Here is Gleb, standing next to her and smiling, here is Gordey. Both love her and know that she loves them and… what is it? And they love each other. Keira laughed happily. Why it needed, to invent so stupid thing, to force choosing her and themselves?
– Keira? — Lodge called.
The girl’s mind froze in fear. I don’t want. I don’t want to go back. There is only pain. Keira clung to the guys who were standing nearby.
— You need to get back, Keira, — Lodge said, rubbed his eyes and bridge of the nose, as if relieving from weariness the glasses that he had not worn for a long time. The habit remains.
I don’t want. Keira thought desperately and opened her eyes.

Careness

In den 38, LEDs were lit in crowded places. The evening was noisy, it was raining outside, and almost all the inhabitants of the brothel were here.
Aalz sat cross-legged on the blanket, listening to the hubbub of his gang with a languid smile.
There was a scrape of metal on the concrete. The company subsided, turning to the sound as if on command, there were discordant surprised «oh».
At the wall, playing with a metal pipe, stood a man who looked somewhat like Aalz. He got up and walked lazily towards the guest.
— What do you need? — Aalz asked.
— This is your family? — Rodon nodded at the company around the «tablecloth».
— Something like that, — Aalz chuckled without turning around.
— Take care of it. And I take care of Parady. You are an extra puzzle in our mosaic.
— Ah, that’s it, — Aalz chuckled.
Rodon chuckled the same way.
The men just looked at each other for a while and seemed to communicate mentally.
— Well, I’ll think about it, — Aalz went back, turning his back to the guest.
Rodon headed for the exit and soon he was already flying through the night Firokami to the house of detectives.
Aalz gazed thoughtfully ahead of him, covering his thin lips with the same thin fingers. Silvery eyes sparkled with a smile. He pulled out a gadget from the pocket of one of the gang and dialed Paradis’ account.
-Say, — Khan’s sunny-soft voice replied.
— Remember the dead woman in the parking lot? Faruz didn’t kill her, — said Aalz.
— Want to come? Then tell it me. I’m at Mergen’s, — Khan asked in a businesslike manner.
— Yes, why not, — Aalz exhaled a lingering smile, looked around the gang without seeing, handed over the gadget, got up, and went to the exit.

Do you need me?

‘I see a trail, follow it,’ Mergen said.
‘I’m coming your way,’ Shan relayed, ‘Rodon?’
‘Yeah, all is right, the camera says he’s on the third floor,’ the criminalist echoed.

XXXX
‘Get out through the roof. You have seven minutes,’ an unaddressed notification popped up on the man’s gadget.
The sleek man got up and walked quickly, but not hurriedly, toward the roof.
‘Why are you helping me?’ He wrote back to the stranger.
‘I don’t want you to get caught.’
‘Why? Do you need me?’
The killer realized that only a future client, someone who needed his services, would help him.
The dead cherry look froze on the received answer. Needed? He hadn’t thought about it. He’d never needed anyone.

XXXX
‘There’s no one here. Gone’ – Shan cast a cold glance around the café hall.
Mergen shook his head.
‘Again. It’s as if he knows when we’re around,’ the detective chuckled, ‘does he feel you?’
Shan hesitated and nodded briefly.
‘Not as if. He knows.’

Infinite inevitability

«Why are you so calm?» Savra tore herself away from the papers and looked around the department.
The men were relaxed, fooling around. Khan and Rodon were throwing paper balls at each other, Fadge was lazily flicking the settings, aiming the destroyer at the paper-balls that had fallen to the floor. Mergen looked out the window, where Firokami was sparkling with life.
» Don’t you guys even care? We’ve got a killer walking around town!»
» There’s more than one,» Mergen said lazily, turning away from Firokami and toward the girl. He put his hands behind his head and half-lounged in a comfortable chair. «Savra, it’s only in bad movies or the same bad books detectives consider their raison d’être* to catch a murderer. Or some maniac. Or whatever. But there won’t be fewer maniacs, murderers or other criminals. Spending your life on one person is… something from the realm of erotic fantasies. What’s that in psychology? Negative intimacy? Something like that.
«We’re not living under socialism, or whatever Amiy calls it… something out of a book from a thousand years ago… the era of the outstretched hand or something. That’s what he calls the communist utopian system,» Han joined the conversation. «There, it is a natural goal, to catch and reeducate criminals. All of them. But we live in a world that breeds criminals. People have nowhere to go but to commit crimes. Didn’t you learn sociology in high school?
«I did, that’s why I don’t understand why, if every Firokaman knows about the historical laws of society, why doesn’t anyone make a better system?!»
«Because every Firokamian knows why it won’t work,» Rodon smirked, «no one wants to waste their lives. It’s a thankless task. Where can we put all those perpetually disgruntled whiners? The bourgeois who can’t get enough of anything.»
«Well, maybe we could… teach…» Savra began.
«Well, now they teach everyone everything. So what? – Rodon smirked again. – Firokami simply obeys the laws of society as best he can without backsliding. The side effect, of course, is people thrown out of society. Who have nothing left but to find meaning in a life of crime.
«Even if they’re psychotic, angry, evil morons. They have nowhere to go for treatment. There is no treatment. They understand how they’re going to be treated, and they certainly don’t want to be treated that way,» Mergen said.
«So we’re just relentless retribution. The psychos in Firokami just need to know that we’re going to catch them anyway. That it’s more expensive to commit crimes than not to. Today or tomorrow, we’ll catch them.»
Mergen sighed.
» But it’s not worth it to worry about them, to stay up nights, to waste your nerves and your health, even your mood. Not only do they never end here, but they’re in neighboring worlds, too. You catch one here, and he’ll continue to shit right next to you, just one choice away.»
«Then why are we working?» The girl asked.
«For their decisions.»
Fadge smiled at the girl.
«Like the guys said, to make everyone realize that it’s more expensive for them to commit a crime than not to. So the world doesn’t get better from any work we will have done, but it gets better from the fact that we do it. You got that?

Sunray in the web

Suddenly, Rodon looked up from his work and looked at Khan. Jealousy unpleasantly angered, and the sadist did not know how to throw out rage.
— Sometimes it seems to me that you are in my web, and then I am calm, — he began crackling and angrily, not embarrassed, of course, by Mergen, — but then I suddenly see that it’s not like that, you are not in, I see you can slip away. How to catch you?
Khan laughed sunnyly, but one could hear a malicious mockery in the intoxicating friendly laugh.
— I will never be in your web.
— Why? – Rodon asked in a businesslike manner, gazing at his friend.
— To move into your web, it must be only mine. But you will die of hunger without your flies, which you catch to play with. I will not be among them.
Mergen smiled warmly.
— Khan is a sunray, not a fly. You can’t catch a ray of sunshine.

The City for life

In Firokami, a district equalization program is currently underway. The goal is to eliminate «dangerous» and distinctly «safe» areas within the City; instead, all areas should be comfortable for living. Firokami is known for its thematic areas rich in cultural codes, celebrating multicultural diversity. Asian, Eastern, Northern lifestyles—Firokami dedicates areas to preserve authenticity. However, it is vigilant in ensuring that districts do not become autonomous principalities within the City. Neither the authorities—the service responsible for protecting the populace and enforcing the rule of law—nor the townspeople are hesitant to venture into any area. Any attempts to dominate a part of the city by someone bold and reckless are met with eviction from Firokami or, in extreme cases, relocation into sexual slavery to willing coryphaei. The City is ruthless. Indifferent. The freedom of diversity is upheld by the harsh suppression of any attempts to disrupt the balance. Those who disagree with the City’s ways are free to approach the Authorities and request relocation outside of Firokami, at the City’s expense. Despite its harshness, residents and visitors prefer Firokami to the conventional world. With his (the City is he) technology, opportunities, and a non-totalitarian approach to self-expression—as long as one’s freedom does not infringe upon the freedoms of others—life in Firokami is deemed far more appealing than anywhere else.

Mosaic of the evening

The killer slumped comfortably into a chair, his relaxed pose deliberately showy. His hands, secured in electric handcuffs, rested along his body as if to shield his vital organs. Should he decide to strike the prisoner, he would simply fall back in one fluid motion. The chair wouldn’t tip over, but the killer would undoubtedly slip and tumble into a somersault.

He waited for an attack.

Shan scrutinized the killer. Sunny and self-assured, he didn’t fit the image of a murderer. His eyes were not the least bit malevolent; they were kind, mirthful, the color of turquoise skies or seas. Everything about him was elegant and radiant, even his smile. Indeed, his lips were poised as if he were on the verge of smiling.

“Why did you kill Arisia Kong?” Shan pressed.

The killer merely shrugged.

“The same as the others.”

“And the others? Why them?”

Shan hadn’t intended to ask; it seemed obvious. Yet the question slipped out. The killer looked surprised, then flashed a smile. Shan couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear why the victims had been drawn to him. People with that wide, genuine, luminous smile didn’t seem capable of evil. But he was capable.

 

“It was for the money,” the man reminded him. “I’m a mercenary. Nothing personal.”

“But you chose your contracts.”

“I took the easier ones,” the killer shrugged again.

“Arisia Kong was an easy target, right?” Shan probed, as he considered it.

“Much easier. A worthless parasite,” the killer dismissed.

“Who hired you?” Shan asked, glancing at the wall where Arisia’s inconsolable parents had wept, not now, but months before.

The killer smiled once more.

“I don’t know my clients.”

“That’s not true,” Shang countered softly. “You need insurance for cases like this.”

The killer shook his head briefly. He was confident. He was sure of the love of indifferent Firokami. And he unafraid of prison, though the Firokami prison had the reason to fear it. He likely had several escape plans. Surely, some fool would mistake this graceful, handsome man for a mere slave and take him in. And he would escape.

Shan sighed and shook his head.

“You won’t escape.”

“You don’t have time for me” – and others won’t handle me – the killer didn’t say the last, but Shan heard him.

“But I have someone who does.”

The killer looked at Shan with a mix of emotion and pity.

Shan grinned, feigning a smile. The killer seemed genuinely impressed.

Shan walked to the door, opened it, and called into the corridor:

“Come in.”

It was as if the newcomer hadn’t entered the room, but appeared—a thin man with black hair, dazzlingly bright, with a dead, black gaze.

“Hello,” he said, his voice crackling, with a predatory smoothness, spiderly,  he sat down across from the killer on the table.

The man let his smile fade, shook his head, and turned to face the newcomer.

“Hi, it’s you, who helped me?”

“I am.”

“Why did you turn on me?”

“I didn’t betray you; he promised you to me,” Roddon nodded at Shan. “It coincided with my own plans.”

“I see,” the killer regarded the newcomer as an old friend.

“I told you, you won’t escape. You’ll stay with us,” Shan declared, standing by the window, gazing at the diamond Firokami where the City was matching the mosaic of the evening.

 

Khan nodded in agreement. Roddon deactivated the handcuffs and smiled a wickedly dazzling smile. The evening was indeed matching up nicely.

I love you

“Well, love is… when someone colors your whole life with happiness. As if everything you do has meaning and pleasure, and life has vibrancy,” Khan smiled at Savra, “and friendship is… well, you never feel lonely, ever. So if you have a friend, you don’t miss love if you don’t have it, you just don’t notice its absence. And if you have someone you love, you don’t know that you don’t have friends. But if you know both, you’ll certainly long for either if it disappears.”

“Okay. That kind of makes sense. What about you both?” asked Savra.

Rodon spun sharply in his chair to face his friends.

“I don’t know, I don’t understand love and friendship, they’re just words to me, just some definitions. I can say I love if needed, but I don’t know if that’s what I feel, I can say someone’s my friend, but I don’t know what that means either. Sometimes it happens, rarely in my case, probably almost never in my case, that you just need someone to your soul’s core and that’s it. You just don’t want to live without them and you’re ready to destroy anything that keeps you apart. I don’t know, Khan keeps saying something about relationships that I can’t understand. Something about letting someone go if they want to leave, because then they don’t deserve you. Like, if they don’t want to be with you, let them go, who needs them anyway. It’s all too complicated for me. If Khan wants to leave, I’ll just break his legs. If he lies there apathetically, I’ll figure out what to do with him. I understand he might be stubborn and not give me that beautiful thing he gives, but I’m not picky, I’ll be content with what there is. Like, he says I’ll crave more. Well, I’ll want more, probably, but hardly crave it. I’d like that more, but the desire to have him near in any way is greater than this unclear more. And I don’t care about his happiness without me. It’s like… you say that when it’s love, I’ll want to make him happy, and he’ll want to make me happy. And if he wants to leave, I should let him go so he can be happy. But in these discussions of yours, you also say that if he wants to leave, it’s not love. But if it’s not love, why should I care about his happiness? Then I’ll just care about my selfish pleasure and take what I need from him. Well, it just happens that I need Khan to my soul’s core.”

Khan’s eyes sparkled cheerfully and brightly.

“These are his confessions,” he laughed warmly.

Not Like the Sun

“Khan,” Rodon called, leaning over the sleeping man, “where do you put coffee?”

“If it’s not in the cupboard, then we’ve suddenly run out. Order some, sunshine,” the man smiled drowsily.

“Sunshine?” Rodon sharply shook his lover, “It’s me! Rodon! Who are you talking to – do I look like sunshine?”

Khan reluctantly opened his eyes.

“You look like an idiot! It’s just a term of endearment, you paranoid fool! It means you’re the sunshine of my life, lighting it up and keeping it warm. But no, not much resemblance! Go order the coffee! Stop being jealous for no reason! My silly sunshine… I’m going back to sleep.”

Rodon slipped under the blanket next to Khan, wrapping himself around him. Khan settled comfortably in his embrace.

“Wait, stop being jealous without reason – so there could be reasons to be jealous? Are you implying there might be reasons?” Rodon shook Khan.

Khan smiled without opening his eyes.

“Just don’t give me a reason to give you a reason to be jealous, clear?”

“Not really,” Rodon frowned.

“Well, you figure it out while I get some sleep,” Khan laughed briefly and sighed warmly and indulgently, possessively embracing Rodon.

Not me

“15 missing children. All top students. All from well-off middle-class families…” Han was reading.

“Since when is the middle class well-off,” muttered Mergen with a sigh, “how much more of this?! When will these idiots stop stealing people someone’s looking for? In Firokami there are so many unwanted people, why don’t they dig around there? In the slums millions would agree to anything!”

“Plenty of perverts around,” Han replied.

“What’s been done?” Mergen asked resignedly.

“Nothing. I mean, only Shan combined the cases. Before that, they were investigated separately.”

“How many years have passed?”

“Seven years since the first case, five since the last.”

“Any similar cases recently?”

“Feydge is searching. Roddon started checking on these.”

“For now, let’s send inquiries to the Coryphaeus, maybe it’s some idiotic charity that forgot to notify us,” Mergen nodded and sent out the message.

After a few minutes – enough time for a Coryphaeus to review the message and compare the names of the missing with their projects – the answers came flying back: not me, not me, not us, not involved, not me…

XXXX

His wrist gently tightened – a signal from the device. He read the message and cold sweat broke out. The cliché he’d often read about turned out to be not a cliché but a real reaction, just like “he smiled.” His expensive shirt immediately absorbed and wicked away the sweat, the fabric warming gently, returning physiological comfort to its wearer. Had they found out? Were they checking? How does this work? He had only recently received the Coryphaeus’s shocker from the City and listened to the commandments, sworn an oath to serve Firokami, pronounced aloud – and may Firokami judge me if I do not act for its benefit. Formalities, every country has them. And now this message. He remembered all those names. But he was a Coryphaeus, he was allowed to do anything, right? “Not me” he chose from the options offered in the message.

He lingered, inexplicably struggling to hit the send button. The shocker in his pocket seemed to grow heavier. Was there some protocol for how quickly one should respond? Why had nobody told him? Why weren’t there courses for Coryphaeus in Firokami? How did the Coryphaeus know what to do and when?

Acting as one unified, well-oiled mechanism. Happy, light, wealthy. “Not me,” he sent.

The sky didn’t split open, no monster shattered the panoramic glass of the office. He turned and flinched, he may have even let out a brief squeal.

“Excuse me, your coffee,” the handsome secretary smiled and gracefully approached the table.

The man closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Damned city.

How Do You Win Here?

Khan was standing by the doorframe, watching the men pummel each other and eating candy.

“Do you like it when men fight over you?” asked Merdzhen, who still hadn’t given up on the idea of stepping in — though Khan was alert, ready to stop him.

“He’s fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the same guy — he’s just quantum-crazy,” Khan said, peeling himself off the frame and walking toward the bed, where Rodon was strangling Aalz, and Aalz was hammering his opponent’s liver in return. “He’s so vicious he can’t even make friends with himself!”

Khan said it warmly, though his movements didn’t match the bright, cheerful tone.

He stepped into the fight sharply, blocking them both.

“Hey, how are you going to win, huh?”

Паутина будущего

The Web of Tomorrow

“What is that?” Savra sat down beside Roddon and leaned toward the monitor. In the darkness thin colored strands glowed. Some thickened into what looked like a pattern, others were barely visible.

“Your electromagnetic traces for today, projected until the end of the day.”

“How do you even read this? Do you keep everything in your head or does the computer do the work? It looks like a chaotic web and it is impossible to tell who is who.”

Roddon reacted in a way books usually describe as a shrug, although people do not actually shrug that often, or as a faint hmph, although people do not hmph that often either.

“You never get confused?”

“Of course not. I am the one weaving it,” Roddon smiled.

“And why do you do it?”

“To know your future.”

“Will you teach me?” Savra smiled back.

An easy case

“Is this some kind of joke?” Mergen looked at Shan. “A girl was raped in Firokami. Why is this case even ours? No! why is it even in the hands of the Authorities?”

“And who is our girl?” Khan sang with dry irony. “Some core-elite slave? Some expensive commodity for sale? Somebody’s precious daughter?”

“A digger’s daughter,” Shan replied.

“A dig… a what?” Mergen asked.

“A digger. A person who digs the ground,” Khan explained with grave seriousness, leaning back in his chair and languidly stretching toward his friend.

“Why?” Mergen brightened.

“Exactly because rape isn’t considered a priority in Firokami. This case is three hundred years old,” Shan said.

“And he’s still digging?” Khan inquired, all business and innocence.

“That’s why I’m asking if this is a joke,” Mergen began to grow irritated. “Violence is part of the City’s signature style. The only thing you can’t do is rage someone else’s slave without the owner’s permission — or merchandise, which is the same thing.”

“Our rules of life change very quickly, but the Firokami Code can’t keep up,” Shan said. “The case was opened back when the Code still defined rape in the ordinary way. It landed with us as part of the archive of unresolved cases.”

“Right, because even three hundred years ago no one even tried to solve it,” Mergen shrugged.

“They probably married each other ages ago. Who’s left to punish? Or maybe they all died — the victim, the rapist, and this digger. How did we even have diggers three hundred years ago? Gadgets were doing the digging by then,” Khan nodded.

“Then it’s simple. Find their graves, write the report, and we’ll close the case. Let me remind you: our department doesn’t work for the sake of justice itself, but so that the offender knows he’ll be found. After three hundred years, after a thousand, after any changes in the law. Firokami will find anyone who ever broke its rules. Even if by now he needs to be rewarded rather than punished, he must be found and… hm… rewarded.”

“Right, I keep forgetting we’re not the punitive division but the instructive one,” Mergen nodded.

“All right. Finally, an easy case!” Khan erred badly.

Forbidden a-la Firokami

“Damn it, you asshanded!” Mergen swore, exhaling irritably and stopping.
“Sorry, I…” the young officer of the Authority flushed.
All tests showed he would become an excellent operative officer. There are two kinds of people who turn into outstanding specialists: confident, calculating, brilliant predators with their own approach, and young inept novices who release their brilliance in bursts, but while they are learning, they are a disaster and a nightmare for their teachers. Lavey Tarich was one of the latter.
A sharp crack sounded behind them, immediately followed by screams, more voices joining in.
Khan Paradi, Mergen’s friend and partner, smiled serenely and called for backup, turning toward the chaos behind them.
The local branch of hell was coming into bloom.
At the epicenter, a mutilated young man was screaming in pain and terror, clutching his half-torn arm, from which blood was pouring. People were gathering around him, shouting in confusion.
“Damned savage newcomers,” Mergen hissed, stepping toward the wounded man, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him toward the sign.
Khan produced the Authority insignia.
“The Authority is at work,” he said clearly, cutting through the noise at a frequency that reached everyone’s hearing. “Kevin Harris stole a shocker from the Authority. Do not do this. Please read the Rules of the City. Watch the Rules channel. It runs in your language. There are screens in public spaces if you do not have access. Violating the Rules in Firokami is dangerous for you. Disperse.”
The crowd fell silent in a daze, but did not move.
This was the silver-green district. The district of newcomers to Firokami. Those who had come here with money. By Firokami standards, there was affordable housing here available to foreigners. For the residents of Firokami, it was something like a wild ghetto, worse than the slums, although compared to actual slums, the district looked tidy and well-kept. But the people here had not yet assimilated, they were still afraid of Firokami, but already wanted its possibilities. People on a trial period, as they were called. Wealthy in their own countries, they wanted more. Only Firokami could give more. The problem was that here their money was worth little. Firokami’s currency was backed by a gold-and-diamond reserve, not by words and promises. That is why the wealthy from other countries found themselves at the level of the middle class in Firokami. But Firokami valued resources, including human ones, so a person who was intelligent, or at least useful, or at least willing to become so, could always find a place in the diamond City.
Of course, newcomers were not required to settle in this district. Firokami forbade nothing, live where you want, and where you can. But in this district it was convenient for them. Affordable, familiar, not frightening. So naturally they settled here.
The Authority disliked this district. Because the level of violations here was higher than in the slums. Crime in Firokami was of a completely different kind. And the crimes of foreigners were foolish, ignorant, irritating. They did not understand what should be avoided, they were caught instantly, injured themselves, just as now. All this frightened others and slowed assimilation. Because of this, some had to be evicted or punished. Of course, they should have been assigned supervisors, but no one wanted to deal with them. The idea of creating such a service existed, but for now there were only discussions, it was possible to burden the existing coryphaei, but the importance of the newcomers’ problem was not a priority, and no volunteer to take on this direction had yet appeared, so much life had to offer in Firokami. People wanted to move forward with the City, not to deal with the backward.
Newcomers, used to the hypocritical order in their own countries, sometimes gave in to the temptation of easy prey, for example, getting hold of a real Authority shocker, that which would make you virtually all-powerful. Quick-fingered thieves sometimes stole from such young, inattentive Authority officers.
A real shocker of a coryphaeus or of the Authority must not fall into civilian hands.
At first, a shocker in someone else’s hands without a universal code turned into a brick, more precisely into a coin. But that was not demonstrative. And then it was decided that a stolen device or shocker of the Authority or the coryphaei would explode in the thief’s hands, maiming them. This was demonstrative, but newcomers did not believe in the inevitability of Firokami, they were used to the false scare tactics of their own countries. The Authority also had to keep careful watch over its instruments of power.
Operatives of Department 42, Mergen Hevia and Khan Paradi, were carrying out a public duty today, regardless of whether you were a legend or not, no matter what privileges or rights you had, if you were part of the system, there were days in the year when you had to work at least a little in another department, as an invited consultant, to spend a day with a trainee or a newcomer. This was so that everyone could see how other departments worked, so that there would be overall coordination, at the very least, an exchange of experience. So today they left their comfortable department and were patrolling a street in the silver-green district with a newcomer from one of its departments.
And Lavey failed to keep track of his shocker. He was still looking for a convenient place for it and found a convenient place not for himself, but for the unfortunate thief.
Lavey stood there, burning, watching how confidently Hevia and Paradi dealt with the wild situation. He was ashamed, but to justify himself and complain now, in front of people, was completely out of the question. Tarich had been in Department 87 for only a week.
Mergen shook the wounded, whining thief.
“Read. Is it written in your language? Read, I said.”
“Help, help, my arm!” the thief wailed.
“It will hurt you more if you do not obey,” Mergen said.
“Oh God, God… I did not want to, I… it just fell out, I only picked it up, I wanted to return it…”
“You will tell that later in the department. Read, I said.”
The wounded man swallowed and read through tears:
“Do not touch personal gadgets, shockers and valuables of the Authority and the coryphaei. This is dangerous to your health and life”
“For you idiots, this is broadcast everywhere, around the clock, in all languages. This is a dangerous city. Especially for the stupid.”
“I did not want to, did not want to!..” the young man whimpered.
Mergen dragged him to the arriving emergency vehicle.
“Neutralize the threat, minimize the pain, do not restore it until the Authority makes a decision”
The doctor nodded.
“Then to 42th?”
“To 87th.”
“Ok,” the doctor nodded again, signaling to the cyborgs to load the wounded man into the vehicle.
“I said disperse,” Khan repeated.
The crowd, having heard the order, each in their own language, habitually ignored the officer’s words.
“…Pathetic,” Khan smiled brightly, and the crowd, screaming, began to scatter, feeling pain and panic, as Khan activated the frequency on his device.
On the sign it flickered indifferently: Obey the orders of the Authority, enforcement will be painful and dangerous.
“Watch your things, asshanded,” Mergen hissed to Lavey as he approached. “People are stupid, but you mustn’t. Power is given to us not to harm people.”
“I understand, I… I…” Lavey tried to justify himself.
“I, I,” Mergen mocked him.
“I am sorry,” Lavey said.
“Apologize to the City,” Mergen muttered.

Bottomless

Bottomless

I understand why Mariyan started a scandal, this is an attempt to bring the head of the princess to the dragon. The dragon is me, the princesses are people entangled in his web. Yes, that’s how he sees romance. Mariyan is angry with Asen, says he is underdeveloped and that it is impossible to behave with people like that, sometimes Bozhen gets under his anger. The harmonica-man tries ti be unnoted, so he only receives his part of hatred when a common phrase sounds. Mariyan looks at me. Even though he seems very emotional now, the killer spider’s cold eyes are, as often, frozen, motionless, as if lifeless. He knows how to smile with them, and then the sun seems to flash and play in them — my totem. At other times, even when he smiles, if you cover the lower part of his face with your palm, you will see that his eyes remain cold and motionless. Well, he also has this, real, his look, heavy and familiar from eternity.
— Svyatoslav, Svyatoslav, make sure they don’t swear!- Bozhen turns to me, unconsciously realizing that I can stop Mariyan.
But he got bored, he wants to drop everything and leave with me. I can’t refuse him this impulse. Why else do you need friends, if not to know that you will never be alone? Mariyan abruptly begins to gather.
«Let’s go out,» he says to me.

A Gift from Munich

The guys went off to play, and I was finishing up some tasks – lessons, check-in, shopping. As I’m bringing in my things, a winter-man turns to me from the table. Majestic, like all of them, proud. Handsome, of course. There’s nothing on the table in front of him. So, was he just staring at the wall until I came in?

“Hello. Which language do you prefer?” he asks in German.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m confused about which one I should speak right now anyway,” I reply, also in German.

He laughed.

“Well, you’re doing pretty well, actually,” he compliments.

“How do you know how I’m doing?” I think to myself.

We talked, I told him that I’m here with a friend, that he’s a street musician, and I’m a writer.

I went to the kitchen, made myself coffee, came back, and he’s carrying a tin box with cookies and says:

“Would you like some cookies?”

 

But I don’t know where he got this box from, because the table was empty.

It’s impolite to refuse, generally.

I always accept what’s offered.

“Thank you.”

He puts the box in front of me and says:

“Someone left this here for you.”

I asked him to repeat, he laughed and said:

“See you again,” and left.

I brought the box with me. Tin boxes, by the way, are one of the best gifts for me. I always have something to put in them, so if you have any unnecessary ones, don’t hesitate to send them to me.

Lalangamena

Never have I beheld Bulgaria in such resplendent beauty!

My new abode.

The émigré’s dilemma in foreign lands eludes me entirely.

Communist ideology, by default, molds one into a citizen of the world. The concept and sentiment of homeland, when examined honestly, shorn of politicians’ manipulations and nationalistic platitudes, proves far more expansive and dialectical.

An individual, upon reaching sufficient maturity to warrant the title, when they perceive themselves as an integral part of humanity and internalize its struggles as their own, when a man bristles at prohibitions on abortion and female education, when a heterosexual rails against bans on same-sex relationships, when a cisgender person decries restrictions on gender reassignment, eschewing the “what’s it to me?” mentality, can only acknowledge the cosmos as their true homeland. Not even Earth suffices.

Homeland is not geography.

When queried about homesickness, I affirm its presence.

Indubitably, I yearn. Profoundly so! Incessantly! Yet, I “relocated,” or more accurately, was “relocated,” from there in the distant year of ’91, without ever leaving my bed. I simply retired in my homeland and awoke in the same bed (!), but in a foreign, hostile country.

The motherland metamorphosed into a malevolent stepmother.

Thus, I have nowhere on Earth to return to.

My physical homeland exists no more. Consequently, I am at liberty to choose a home anywhere.

The caveat being that my homeland possesses a self-defense mechanism.

It’s not geographically fixed; it’s under construction.

My homeland comprises people who think like humans, not a location; my homeland is a nation of builders. My homeland is humanity itself, and anyone who recognizes their role as a part of humanity is my compatriot.

Hence, I experience the tribulations of Bulgaria, Russia, and Germany equally. This is precisely why I cannot take sides in any conflict.

For they are all fragments of my homeland.

And I ache for them all equally.

Therefore, I feel at home everywhere, insofar as one can feel at home in the confines of the physical universe.

For a slave

We'll live with you in a small cabin

«We have winter’s beginning,» said Ad.
The atmosphere was relaxing, not having met anyone at the airport, Alon began to smile, looking back.
«Let’s find a nice place by the sea and start to build a house,» he survived, and now desperately wanted to live. If he saw Aletta now, he would have strangled her again.
«Let’s find. In the meantime, we look for it and build it; wewill live in the forest?»
«We can. It’s great.»
The boy sighed.
«There are terrible insects which you may be allergic to. Eugene seemed to be boosting your immune system, but you still have to get vaccinated here, and I don’t want you to get sick.»
They walked through the forest on a paved stone path, Alon was scratching, but he wasn’t sick.
«There’s a transient on the beach. There we’ll go.»
The trees thinned, the sun was sparkling in the azure of the vast water gushed to the couple. The golden sand glowed softly. The ocean was mighty and boundless, filled the whole view far and broadwise. Alon gasped, finally believing that life had finally smiled to him. The man went into the ocean. Warm water soaked the clothes and the shoes. Adcame over with his hands to his lips. Alon lay down on the sand. The waves were rolling, pushing, trying to get Alon into the ocean. Tears welled up in the eyes of the beast, he swallowed, dizzy. Alon sat up, hugged the legs of Ad.
«Thank you, thank you,» whispered Alon, he couldn’t speak, emotion clenched his throat.
«Thank you, my god,» said Ad a little puzzled.
«The whole life I’ve been dreaming of living by the sea, thank you for fulfilling my dream,» Alon was poking in the thigh of Ad, hugging him.
«The whole life I’ve been searching you, my god,» shrugged Ad. He didn’t rush Alon, «Maybe you’re gonna undress; it’smore comfortable to swim.»
«I don’t know how to swim,» Alon smiled sheepishly. «Will you teach me?»Ad smiling nodded.
«There’s a good place,» the boy said seeing a wooden bungalow in the strip of grass, after the sandy beach. 

Eye of power

Habits of childhood

Our town could serve as a backdrop for some horror movie, in the style of finished Kafka Castle. It only from the outside, on a warm sofa, seems that it’s so exciting to get to a mystical place, but when a visitor gets

 to us, what he sees seems so strange that he blinks and tries not to notice anything at all. The locals know how to swear without spending nerves. Would you want to know how to do this? They can scream, cry, but then quite calmly speak with someone else on another subject, well, even with thos

e they swear with can talk to another topic in a friendly manner and laugh. Right there, at the moment of the scandal. Sometimes village scandals can drag an entire street or several ones. And then walk away as if nothing happened; but if it involves only the locals. But if the scandal engages a stranger, a relative, or a guest, then there is a magical action. Imagine two women arguing, a crowd gathered around them, divided into two camp

s, all are quarrelling.
And now, from one side, suddenly, a stranger intervenes in the scandal. Do you think they’re all throwing themselves at him? It’s often typical for the group scandal to choose the control, most fair point as a lightning rod. But why would I tell you that? Everybody knows that. Oh, no, they all listen greedily to the stranger without answering, and only when they get silent, someone, sometimes even from the sam

e camp, is throwing wood on the fire so that the stranger continues to carry the righteously-angry monologue. And all listen to, absorbing live emotions, and even the one who the stranger chastises says some dissenting remarks so that they continued. Suppose you are attentive enough – very calm ones. And all have wary calm eyes. The task is to bring the stranger to hysterics, a blow, tears, and the edge. Sometimes, the stranger in tears runs away, the most de

sperate ones call him back, but if they don’t stop, this alien to the human race crowd doesn’t run after him; probably, it will be a terrible view. Children who have not yet learned to control themselves in our village do so, and even, like limbs of the devil, try to tap with sticks and call out with the cries of the stranger hiding somewhere in the house. But adults don’t, adults, smiling, look at each other and go about their businesses happily. When into the scandal couldn’t be s

ummoned–there is no way to call it otherwise!–the stranger, the adults, disperse, as if nothing has happened, a little annoyed. As if they don’t have live emotions and can only imitate them, they have nothing to feed each other with. I don’t know what kind of race this is, but I’ve never met such people, only in our village. I can’t do that, so I can’t tell you this secret, although I’ve learned how to handle the conflict without drowning in it. A valuable skill, try it.

Vampire Conflictology

An alternative name for the fragment.

Books that we translate

From Andrew's penultimate story 'Carbon'

He answered like he always does, just his own brand of sandpaper growl, to
let me know the channel was open. Rasp didn’t get his name from his voice. A
rasp is a harsh file, and he’d been very good with one.
«I’m hunting,» I told him.
»»»
«No name. No description. Just a pattern.»
»»»
Then I told him what I had.
He was offline for a few minutes. The hum didn’t change, so I left the
connection open.
«The guy you want is Sonar,» he harshed out.
«Sonar?» I said, to make certain I’d gotten the pronunciation right.
«Yesss….» he gave it a couple of beats, then: «Sonar. He hears everything.»
In the Sector, there’s no such thing as privacy, only little nodules of dead air.
Hovering, quiet as a crop duster’s clouds. Sonar wouldn’t be easy to run down—
anyone looking for him wouldn’t ever be the only one.
There’s no privacy in prison, either. A murky aquarium with no shortage of
sharks. Plenty of remora, too, but no danger from any of their kind. In that
ocean, only the moray eels are feared.
I’d studied, and I’d learned. Metaphysics and kinetics, book and body. Then
the test beds: humans. To survive, to keep proving-in, to earn. To stay honed.
So when I found Sonar, I traded for what he wanted most. Not gold, a secret
far more valuable: I told him how I’d found him.
Not the truth, of course. But a good enough story to ensure that he’d contact
Rasp when he found a new spot to listen from.

Carbon, Andrew Wachss

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