Letter to the Artist

Dear Artist!

I hope you'll understand at least one sentence contained here. No, you won't understand a thing, because this is my world, my matrix, and I won't give it to anyone. I'll throw myself into it and remain there, alone and happy. And do you know what I'll miss in it? Well, guess what. Yes, yes, you. Don't write to me that you retire to your eternal rest at night, please don't write, because you know perfectly well that surviving without you would be equivalent to me vegetating in this world. Even though you don't love me, I know perfectly well that you are one of the reasons for my existence. Every morning I wake up with the thought that you're somewhere out there, that you sometimes remember me. It's nice, really. No, contrary to appearances, I'm not in love with you. At least not in love the way people fall in love. Because that's something else. You attract me, I don't know if you realize it. Maybe, maybe not. There's something about you I'd like to steal and never give it to anyone else. Sometimes I look at you... I think you're quite cool, you know? I love you in my own way. The way an aristocracy, or rather an artist, loves.

I'd like you to read this letter one day. No matter what would happen, how you would feel. I'd say out loud, "I'm not interested," even though I'd know perfectly well it was a stupid lie because I want to know how you feel every second. No, that was a lie too. I want to know all your thoughts about me.

You hugged me once, remember? And more than once. No one has ever hugged me like that; I've never felt such a pleasant thrill, you know? And I'll tell you, I wouldn't want it to happen often, because true pleasure is pleasure when it happens once in a while. Pleasure has to be a change. But that's not important in this paragraph. You know... And then, when you hugged me, I felt a relief I'd never felt in my life. Even though I was sitting on the grass, I was sad, I felt bad. And you, without unnecessary words or ceremony, embraced me, just like that. And I guess I can say that I fell in love with you (but remember, in my own way, not like most people). I wanted to stay in that state forever, but I knew it wouldn't be... Well, you know. Pleasure becomes routine.

Even though you don't always understand what I'm saying, what I want to tell you, you still dwell in my cold heart, though you'll never warm it. Somewhere far away, there's someone else, someone who belongs to both you and me. She was cold too, but you, with your warmth, made her someone completely different. And I know it will be like this forever. And you know why? Because you can't lose me over something as stupid as love. Because, you know... You love me one day, hate me the next. And I'm like a diamond; you can't afford to have me (although once you have me, you're afraid you'll lose it any day, so it's better not to risk it), but at the same time, you gaze at my sparkle with fondness. You know you have to settle for the cubic zirconia you've come to love no matter what. You've always strived for it, and now you can't lose it just because you saw a sparkling diamond. A diamond can easily be lost; someone might steal it, but a cubic zirconia, not so much. You love her for being with you. You love her like everyone else. Simply. Sweet and rosy.

I'm ending this letter because sentiments are starting to flutter in my heart, you know? And I can't just melt away like that. Go to your cubic zirconia. Go just to be with her. But remember, someone loves you. They love you with such a false love, a very cold love, so outstanding and individual.

Your Artist, who will always remember that you exist.

Meeting on the Seine

Late one evening, a slender, tall girl with wonderful brown eyes and long, curly, dark hair took a stroll through sleepy Paris. Unsure of where she was going, she wandered through the ancient alleys. She stopped on a bridge. She looked at the surface of the water, which fascinated her with its silken quilt (...) Gazing at the Seine, she pondered her problems. She didn't know how to escape the situation that tormented her. She shed a tear of bitterness. The stream of sadness transformed into a river of despair, which soon became a waterfall of failure and disappointment. No one understood her, she had no friends. She was alone, lonely, and desolate. But suddenly a glimmer of hope lit up in her mind. She danced toward the dark figure who, for a moment, seemed worthy of her attention and interest. The soft song of the Seine hummed in her ears, interrupted every now and then by gusts of the frosty December wind. Even the shadow of the streetlamp seemed to dance in a playful way. She approached, smiled (...)

"Who are you?" she asked timidly.

To this, the young man, taking her slender hand, replied:

"Your Angel."

And so a friendly signal would flash between the girl and the mysterious stranger... (Angel

Like in a Kaleidoscope.

A cold wind blew. Icy cold, even.

How is that possible at this time of year? The sand was scorching hot, and the sun blinding. I felt anxiety, a spinning sensation in my head. In my thoughts, you. Incredible longing, darting eyes, screaming: where is he???. He's not here, not there either, is it fate? Desperate, why?! /Cry? Scream? Stamp my feet? Lie down on the sand and erase the memories? *** In a moment, the August sun reminded us of itself. It's not that bad, I have you in my thoughts, in my heart, deep down... It's definitely some kind of sign, not today, not yet, but that doesn't mean never again! (...) The water was damn cold, not like it was a few weeks ago, the summer rain, the joy, what? Carefree, childlike, every moment returns, because it wasn't you I first discovered here [...] Busy thoughts, much, much better. And that smile? ///Dark clouds, suspicious glances, a moment of weakness, beautiful views, fear, uncertainty, surprise? What's happening? * Go there, faster, for the last time, don't be afraid, there's nothing to be afraid of, put all your fears in your backpack, go as if the world were ending today. Do you see him? He's approaching, it's him. Think that you have before you someone who has been talking to your dream every day for over a month, just like you could, only for a moment, and not at all shyly, as is usually the case, and that's a huge plus, you're making progress! You smiled, and good, you must have gotten something out of this (perhaps not entirely unlucky) day! | .Travel always makes me think, at least no one interrupted me this time. I closed myself in tightly and slowly, reliving every moment spent there. Willy-nilly, the most important question comes to mind: Will I ever see you again? Will our paths cross, even for a moment, for a moment, one tiny, tiny moment?

[Travel always makes me think, at least no one interrupted me, this time. I closed myself off tightly and slowly, reliving every moment spent there. Willingly or unwillingly, the most important question comes to mind: will I ever see you again? will our paths cross even for a moment, for a moment, one small, tiny moment? And again the fog (nothingness) came. //.it passed.

This is probably another letter to the Artist

And again they slipped from my body. And again a salty tear ran down my cheek… And again the same thing, and again with the thought of you. And again I looked into your eyes. Again, frightened, I opened my mouth to say your name. I no longer listen to reason, I no longer desire a static life, I desire nothing except your gaze, your touch… A touch that has long since vanished into the past. You are the only purpose of my life. You are the one who dwells in my mind.

My thoughts go back to that day when you brought your lips to mine. We joined in a passionate kiss. You know well that that day was probably one of the happiest, most wonderful. The next morning I woke up thinking it was just a dream. I blinked a few times and, to my delight, realized that the event had actually happened. I stretched with a smile on my face. Back then, I didn't care. The world didn't exist for me. No, correction. To me, you were my whole world. You were my only companion. I practically skipped around the apartment, the street... You have no idea what was going on in my mind. I was happy. Believe me, I was truly happy. Like never before.

I wish I could forget, I wish I could erase from my mind those days when I felt the touch of your lips, the touch of your hands. I long to wrap myself in emptiness and once and for all banish all those memories that sometimes keep me awake. I have that beautiful evening in my head. With my joy, I crossed all boundaries. Nothing mattered, no one mattered, there was only you. Go, go away... I've had enough of this eternal journey back to that day. I no longer want to feel the taste of your lips on mine, I no longer want to remember that mad dance of tongues. I dream of forgetting the touch of your hands. I don't want to remember that look that told me unequivocally: "I remember Saturday, do you?" I beg you, let me finally breathe.

I wish a smile would finally appear on my face. I wish I could turn back time. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt what I feel for you now? Maybe then I wouldn't have gone to this place, maybe I wouldn't have shaken your hand, maybe I wouldn't have said my name...? Maybe I wouldn't have heard, "It's so nice!" Then I would have lived with peace in my heart, then there wouldn't be so many painful memories. Then my thoughts wouldn't be filled with you.

I cry again. I look down at the ground again. Snowflakes fall on my hair. I inhale from my cigarette. A pleasant melody reaches my ears... A melody emerging from your fingers. You don't let me forget. You're killing me, you know? When I think about never having you by my side, my heartbeat becomes irregular... My blood pressure rises. I feel like punching the wall. I cry... I cry like a tiny child, not thinking about anything.

Oh my God, why am I so weak? Why has this man become my replacement? Why have you made me so dependent on him? Why do I need his gaze, his voice... like a smoker's morning cigarette? Why would I be willing to give my life for him? I fell in love. It wasn't mutual. And I feel bad about it.

Confession

My gaze quietly enveloped your outline, immersed in the semidarkness of the empty bedroom. The only light that flickered between us and these four walls came from candles, feverishly consuming gram after gram of oxygen. Busy with this, they seemed uninterested in anything else. Even the windows preferred to gaze out at the winter landscape of a snow-covered parking lot full of cars, feeling it inappropriate to disturb us at such a moment. Thousands of thoughts, stumbling against the ubiquitous light, entered my head... strangely enough, only to vanish immediately and move on. The silence, which held such a crushing advantage over us all, was so terrifyingly loud that it almost burst my eardrums. But it only lasted a second... A moment later, fear gripped me... I don't know how it had entered... all the windows and doors were firmly and tightly closed. But he always shows up everywhere—that's just how he is.... Besides, it didn't matter then; all that mattered was that he had now introduced a tyranny into my body, exhausted by those last few seconds. Completely paralyzed, I simply let dozens of stray thoughts in and out. I don't even remember breathing; I think I stopped for a few minutes... I forgot. Why were you standing with your back to me? I was afraid of your gaze... like never before... I don't know why... maybe because I didn't know where it had gone? And another cluster of thoughts raced off. One stupid Time stopped to the side and stared at me... Just then... just when I so desperately needed his mad dash, he took an interest in me? Oh, the irony!

Everything stopped, the world stopped spinning. And it was all my fault... But when the whole world froze, you, as always, wanted to rebel. You slowly walked over to the mirror next to the old wardrobe, gently nudging reality and gently nudging it back into place. Your reflection looked at me kindly. Like an explosion, it destroyed everything so intricately constructed around us... silence, fear, emptiness. An ordinary day! I took a step towards you. No, this was definitely not an ordinary day... Another wave of terror almost knocked me off my feet. But then I remembered to breathe... instantly, somehow... clearer. "Now or never." This was the sixth time that thought had entered my tiny world. But now, dressed in the same words, it was somehow different. More powerful. Self-assured. It was probably because of that explosion. And one more step... I felt a sliver of light, the rest of my thoughts, the escaping silence, and the fear returning to its full strength, mixing above my head, creating this MOMENT... and there was also a strange, furry dust that hadn't been there before. An unforgettable feeling. I traversed that MOMENT, inches by inches, getting closer to you... How much was it? Two meters? Three meters? A kilometer? Only for mundane, rational reasons will I not insist on that last one... I arrived. You were as close... as ever. I could hear your heartbeat... yes, your heart... where is my heart? It landed somewhere near the ceiling... And the fear was undoubtedly already in full force. "Fuck..." "K... "K..." sigh. I'll stutter again now. My throat couldn't say more than a single letter... But you know what I want to say... you've known it from the very beginning. Why don't you even move? A flock of new thoughts chased away the old ones... but what's the point if they fled on their own. I don't even remember them.

Sigh... I have no strength. My empty head settled on your shoulder. It's so good... yes... just like always. I don't know why, but I felt like my head was terribly heavy on you... But I feel so good there. So safe... mmm... Suddenly, the words "I love you" appeared in the air... I definitely have to admit that everything pointed to it being my voice... clearly. My quiet whisper. Now that I think about it, I don't know if I really said it or if we both just wanted to hear it so badly... But that wasn't important either, what mattered was that before the candles had even had a chance to choke, you had already turned around, beaming. Even your endless hair had stood up. Joyfully, and then like fools, they furiously chased the rest of the crazy body. I can't describe how I felt then. There were too many contradictions... And to be honest, I don't remember much. We lay on the ground afterward—yes, that's all. I know this is the most wonderful part of my life...

Endless secrets

How good it is to have this opportunity, to feel for a moment that you

don't give a damn about anything around you and you revel in the freedom of your mind.

You savor the warm, sweet happiness. A moment of not thinking about anything. Thinking about everything.

The world, as if from a sphere, flattens out and then turns inside out. And you're standing on a tall tower.

Narrow, far from the world, yet seemingly at its center. You sip from a glass of water. You ponder the boundlessness of the human imagination.

You want to descend the tower to do something down there. And you go. Down the stairs. But the tower is so high that after a moment you stop and pause, because you no longer remember why you came down.

You laugh at yourself. And once again you're wandering the steppes of freedom. Endless secrets. The world turns back to the front page. And you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinking, "What a weirdo I am."

And you go digging around on the internet.

Excellency

Everyone tried to avoid conversation with His Excellency, but when it did happen, the unfortunates had no choice but to avoid eye contact, which, contrary to all expectations and hopes, he strongly encouraged. He was a man of a short temper, his manner of governing lacked restraint, but was not without a touch of despotism. Unfortunately, his position allowed for evil to be committed without consequence. Therefore, the ruler's position was extremely comfortable, even impressive, and unthreatened.

One day, after satisfying various deviancies, mostly sexual, he nodded to his subordinate, James.

"Look at my face. Do you see anything?" His Excellency asked his subject impatiently.

"I dare say, Your Excellency, unfortunately, nothing.

" "Ah! Concentrate! Do you see anything now?" he asked again.

"Your Excellency, when I see nothing," James replied.

"James!" "Shall I commit draconian acts?! Thrown into a dark dungeon, you'll probably be more eloquent! Or...

" "Excellency!" the subject interrupted humbly. "I see no such need. I dare say I see vast, very charming, and picturesque forests...

" "Forests?

" "Yes...spreading and beautiful...I also see a wide path, along which a large crowd of intercessors gallops.

" "Oh! You are wretched...wretched and wicked! Tell me, where did you acquire such filthy manners?

" "At home, Excellency, among your own people.

" "I have repeatedly informed both you and the other tributes that I demand unwavering commitment from you, so if I order you to raise me to the highest pedestal, as ordered, you are compelled to do so! You serve under my command, whether you like it or not!" the Excellency concluded with a shout.

"Your Excellency, may I introduce a small, so to speak, digression?

" "You may, James… you may, but I want to emphasize that my patience may quickly run out.

" "We have no money, we have nothing to put in the pot, we can barely make ends meet. Your Excellency! We are suffering from poverty! And Your Excellency spends most of his funds on military equipment.

" "Let your imagination finally flourish. Let it gather momentum!" he encouraged his subject, ignoring his words.

"Your Excellency, will my fantasy be subject to severe punishment? If I depict something indecent in it? Or, for example, if I offend Your Excellency. What will Your Excellency do then? Will Your Excellency administer a series of lashes?

" "I promise I will be lenient towards you. Consider my charisma and trust me. Now begin. Look at my face."

"Your Excellency, I dare say… Oh! I see something. It's a very hazy image. A very thick fog, actually.

" "For God's sake, James!

" "I see the army dispersing through the forest. They're looking for someone…

" "Who? Try to look deeper. And what? And what do you see, James? Oh, James! Don't keep me waiting!

" "I suspect they're looking for the man who serves as the leader of this flock… A shot rang out! The birds scattered at the sound…"

Your Excellency, taking a deep breath, raised his hands, stood on his tiptoes, and froze for a moment, like a priest holding a filled chalice heavenward. His subordinate perceived the threat in Your Excellency's behavior. Adrenaline surged into his system to enable a defensive reaction, which, unfortunately, he had no right to. The subject realized that it was impossible to even look at His Excellency crossly, so any defense was out of the question. His heart rate quickened, his skin tingled, he had difficulty swallowing, and the blood rushed to his muscles. Let him finally act! The subject thought. "Let him shoot me with both hands, as long as I don't remain in this constant fear."

"In a word, you perceive power, strength, might! Excellent!" the Excellency shouted, exhaling.

And suddenly he lowered his hands, planted his heels on the ground, and commanded:

"Then look at my face and continue, but this time try to look even deeper!"

The subject's heart began to beat slower, his skin stopped sweating, and the dryness in his mouth disappeared. He felt fantastic, for everything in his gut was returning to normal. The fear had subsided. He could then look at that unpleasant face again.

"...explosion!" One, two…" he said, looking at his left eye. "Shards of wood scattered in all directions!" he added, observing the area around his nose. "But what is it? A woman is enjoying the sight of beautiful flowers. Something tells me her name is Poverty. She probably married Poverty. She wasn't frightened by the explosion. She didn't panic. Not a single drop of sweat ran down her beautiful forehead…

The subject felt as confident as if he were surrounded by a thick wall. A fervor gripped him, from which he couldn't shake.

"Something extraordinary! A group of soldiers is following her back!" he shouted heatedly.

"What group? Who are they?

" "Excellency, these are the intercessors I mentioned earlier. Until now they were galloping, prancing on horseback, now they follow the woman on foot.

" "And where are the horses?

" "The horses have received their long-awaited freedom… Oh!" I hear the clatter of hooves... They're galloping! They're running as far away as they can, basking in their joy! Let Your Excellency imagine this majestic sight. From now on, everyone will walk the earth under their own power.

"You say so yourself... James, your manner has become blunt. I wish you would get to the heart of the matter. Just look at my face again and tell me what qualities you see in it."

James glanced first at his disgusting chin, then at his bulging cheek, and felt aversion again.

"Excellency, I think everything will be clear soon. May I continue?

" "My patience is at its limit..." he waved his hand ostentatiously and added, "but I will give you one last chance.

" "Excellency! I see a huge trough... someone is lying in it.

" "Who?" asked Excellency impatiently.

"Someone has fortified himself in the pig's food." The woman pointed at the individual. A throng of intercessors surrounded the trough! Oh! A face emerged from the trough... a familiar face. Everyone was absorbed in that face... but it's not a face! It's a face!

" "What do you mean, a face?" Who is this man?

"It's Your Excellency..."

Your Excellency frowned. His brow furrowed. He shrank slightly.

"James, come closer."

When the Subject carried out the order issued by his principal, he received a blow to the right cheek.

"I dare say that the punishment Your Excellency inflicted on me was too harsh.

" "What can I say, James? Nothing at all. Guard!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "

Before you throw him into the dungeon, sew his mouth shut, drive stakes through his ears, and cover his eyes with stinking, musty pigskin."

"Orders, Your Excellency!"

And the subjects obeyed their commander.

For such is the price of

temporary liberation.

Generation

Accusation...

Night fell. The sun was no longer visible, only that illusory glow in the west gave off its last breath of radiance. Seven days, seven days of wandering, bread from heaven, water from stones. I had the strength, I had the power to work miracles, where had this paradise gone? I sat down only for a moment, my mind wavered only once, and what had been foretold so often happened. I fell asleep for I don't know how long, the succubi possessed me, offering false hopes and dispelling my worries. Their beauty, unprecedented, quickly dominated. In the background of the wilderness I had so recently wandered, a cry could be heard. I didn't understand the words, but the warning could be measured. I didn't listen, shouting "Carpe Diem," and judging by this, I entered into a dance with the succubus. He quickly grew bored, the tune changed, another spirit, and so on and on. I sank all my strength into a mad dance, falling breathlessly, they all caught me, drinking my blood, leaving no chance for a sigh of relief. A bloody sacrifice that could have been avoided, strength and values ​​boundless and sacred vanished. Cursed reptiles swept my body and mind, and watched my soul with vulture eyes. Why did I, fool, stop? Would I have grown weary of the journey, would I have had enough of freedom? Do I truly desire to be a slave and a soulless machine fulfilling the demon's commands? Who am I to decide who this being is, who so deceptively dominates me? Now all that remains is the regeneration of my strength and a slow healing. I will suffer, the fire ennobles, old wounds reopened, I will lick them myself. I will not experience illusory joy; my smile will sooner rot before I set foot on the uneven path of innocence. A lack of respect for a more complete being, fully interdependent. How can a beautiful being be so willing to draw attention to itself with its own fashion? What wrong have I done to be treated this way, distrusting my own conscience and falling asleep with a deceptive smile for eternity?

I have tasted my own delusion, poured old wine into a new wineskin. I drowned in my own sin, plowed through it without moderation. What else is required of me, patience? Illusory and indefinable... fidelity? Mendacious and changeable like opinions... Virtues? Forgotten and individually resurrected... What is a word, can it live, can it change us, is it stronger and more enduring than achievements? If so, what is a human being? A beast driven out to its own devices? A bacterium exploiting all available means to survive the ego? A shadow of what it will be, somewhere far beyond the cemetery?

Let's not trust ourselves, let's not trust others, let's not trust technology. Everything may turn out to be a lie, but who will be held accountable?

You are human, and struggle is your natural home. If you seek thrills, then go and seek your joy; before you decide, your bones will be white. Rejoice, noble creature, tomorrow someone may find their destiny from you and for you, and you will be left alone.

Demons of our wars, both civil and spiritual, show mercy and kill immediately, take no prisoners. The nightmare of the past remains with us; let us continue it, adding something of our own.

May our children have it harder.

I beg for mercy; may happiness and blessings never abandon you.

Hello

"Hello. It's good you're awake." The voice fell silent.

The speaker was clearly waiting for some signal from me. And I didn't want to get up. I was thinking about my unpainted nails, about breakfast, about that handsome Adam, about the meaning of what I'd just heard... Wait! I couldn't hear a thing! There's no one in the house. I moved out of my parents' house a long time ago. My brother left and will be back in a week. There can't be anyone else here. So I'm still asleep. Good too. I rolled over. Something was standing right next to my bed. It resembled a large blue cat with wings. If I hadn't known it was a dream, I would have started screaming.

"I'm Aldera," it said.

I thought she had a rather pleasant voice. It sounded a bit like a grandmother who tells a story to her grandchildren every night. I didn't have a grandmother. One had died, and the other was the opposite of a good grandmother. Between us, she was more like a Baba Yaga. That's probably why, without thinking, I grabbed the outstretched paw.

I felt the creature's claws dig into my palm.

"Oh fuck, this isn't a dream! You're alive!"

If it had been the middle of the night, my scream would have woken everyone within a kilometer or more. But unfortunately, it was almost noon, so no one heard me. And even if they did, they didn't pay attention. My neighbor, as always at this time, was screaming, beaten by her husband. Her voice was much louder than mine, because she screamed every day, while I only screamed occasionally. It would probably take ten of me to match hers.

The animal reacted by withdrawing its paw, which was even less pleasant. Four bloody marks appeared on the palm of my hand. My morning visitor seemed even more terrified than I was. He stared at my injured part. Then he approached me. I was already on my way to the bathroom. I didn't want to stain that beautiful, gray-blue carpet with my own blood. It approached, and I walked away. I kept my distance. But my house, as houses usually are, had four walls (plus a few extra partitions). And as I was leaving, I bumped into one. So I acted like any normal woman in a hopeless situation. I started crying.

And guess what?

You'll never succeed. I was crying, undressed, unmade up, terrified, with a bleeding hand, and this thing approaching me, and in walked into the house...

No. It wasn't another creature similar to the first one.

It wasn't a creature unlike the first one either.

And again, mistake, it wasn't my mother-in-law, although that would be equally surprising—none of that, given the lack of a mother-in-law.

Who said "the most handsome guy in the neighborhood"? You? You deserve a reward. Adam entered the room.

What's so surprising about that? He was my boyfriend, I gave him the key so he could come over whenever he wanted. So I wasn't surprised by his PRESENCE, only by his BEHAVIOR. He came over and said hello. To that creature, not to me! Nothing mattered anymore. I'll KILL YOU!!!!!!!! We were so good together. And he doesn't even notice me, and he's saying hello to that creature! I was just plain jealous.

I wanted to use my injured limb, which for some reason didn't hurt, to remind him of my existence. I lunged at him, I mean, Adam. I mean, I wanted to lunge at Adam, but I couldn't, because that animal lunged at me.

I lay motionless beneath his body, which looked much lighter than it weighed, at least to my delicate little body. Only now did my beloved notice me.

"I see you two already know each other. That's fantastic." And how do you like Alfur, Alderka? "Isn't she wonderful? One of a kind!

" "I certainly am, but she doesn't understand anything. People are stupid, they just won't admit it. Help me. I accidentally hurt her when we greeted each other.

" "Accidentally?! Did you do it on purpose, you monster!" I reminded them that I also have a voice and they have no right to talk about me like I'm some uncomprehending thing.

"Again? You were supposed to trim my claws," he said with a slight reproach in his voice, the kind I often heard when I didn't do something, or didn't do it the way Adam expected.

I felt like I was losing my greatest, only love. Only, I was always the one who gave up. And first I'd break up with my previous, only love, and only then would I look for the next object of my affection. And he was the exact opposite: he's still behind me, and he's already hanging out with my tormentor.

"What do you think you're thinking!" I wanted to draw their attention to myself. "Adam, do you love me? Tell me, have you ever loved me? Why don't you say anything?" I knew it! You never loved me!

Only after a moment did I realize how stupid it must have looked: I was lying on the floor, pinned beneath the body of a strange, feline creature, asking Adam if he'd ever loved me. They must have thought so too, because they started smiling, and then they were laughing out loud. And laughter is contagious, so I couldn't help myself.

Finally, they stopped laughing, and my desperate situation hit me harder than ever. I felt my bladder tighten against my senses. I actually wanted to piss. And my beloved, completely composed, said,

"Alder, let's get this over with." I shuddered at the words.

"What are you trying to do? What are you ending? I won't let myself be killed that easily." Fear gripped me again. "Don't come near me, honey. Don't come near me, do you hear me? And get that thing off me, because I don't like being looked down on." And now you're looking because of the difference in levels.

I said something else, but no sound came out. Adam approached and took my hand. A shiver ran through me, as it always did when he touched me. I had no idea why he needed my hand, but I also had no way to protest verbally, or otherwise. I was supposed to start karate, but something always happened to prevent me from going to practice. Now I regretted it. And Aldera moved her nasty paw to my hand. And I suddenly remembered the four cuts on the palm of my hand caused by her claws.

"Right. Now run your claws the other way, and I can play tic-tac-toe. Oh, I can't! I'm right-handed. And this is my right. Unless I learn to write with my left. Or I play with someone... Of course I'll play with someone! Playing alone isn't for me. I play even the stupidest computer game with company."

My train of thoughts was interrupted not by pain, but by a gentle touch. I had no idea this creature's paw was so delicate and warm. When I touched it before, I hadn't noticed. The warmth grew warmer and warmer. It became hot. And painful. I wanted to withdraw my hand. I even managed to move it, but that was all I managed.

Aldera shouted to Adam to hold, and he obediently squeezed my aching limb tighter. My heart ached even more.

The warmth had become very hot and uncomfortable. And on top of that, I felt a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. Finally, the animal released my hand, and not just my hand.

The strange cat-like creature stood up, freeing my entire body. Then it staggered as if drunk, leaning against the wall. I did a quick mental inventory of my alcohol supplies and realized I had nothing to get Aldera drunk on. I stood up and tried to approach the creature. After all, even if he wasn't looking, he was my guest. And "guest in the house, easier on the horses." Or something like that, whatever. But I didn't approach because I was pushed away and fell again. And I felt like a woman had fallen.

And Adam ran to her and hugged her. I wanted to faint immediately, collapse, or die. But even my death wouldn't have made any impression on them for two reasons. First, Adam was too busy with Aldera. Second, I was already lying down again. If I had been standing, I might have fallen hard to the floor, but lying there, I was at a loss. But she took advantage of my idea and fainted, fainted, or died—I don't know which of my suggestions she chose. New strength surged through me. "Maybe she's dead?" I thought hopefully. But on the other hand, that possibility was also hopeless. I wanted to get rid of this unexpected guest, but in some normal way. And now I had a corpse in the apartment. Well, there was nothing I could do about it.

I remembered my injured hand and that I needed to go wash it off. I got up from my second fall and this time made it to the bathroom without incident. I grabbed some hydrogen peroxide and a bandage from the medicine cabinet.

My unfortunate, full bladder reminded me that if it wasn't emptied immediately, it would explode. And that wouldn't be very pleasant. I completely agreed with him. Oh, what a relief a simple pee could be!

Well, now I could take care of my injured hand. Or maybe I should go to the emergency room? What if the animal was rabid? Or rather, it was, because normal animals, wild ones, don't approach people. It didn't look like a pet either. No, no hospitals! People die there. Instinctively, I turned on the water.

I washed my hands and looked at the shelf under the mirror. The presence of the bandage and hydrogen peroxide puzzled me. It should be in the medicine cabinet. If it was there, I must need it for something. Oh, my wounds! I looked at my right hand. Then to the left. Nothing happened to me... Not a scratch, not even the slightest. Which means nothing happened. I had a stupid dream, that's all! Adam loves me! Aldera never existed! The world is beautiful.

It was only one in the afternoon, so I had plenty of time. I started work at five. I went to make myself some food because I would have starved to death. Adam was already in the kitchen.

"Oh, hi. When did you get here?" I greeted him, not very politely.

I didn't want him to look at me. He had seen me, admittedly, in various situations during our long, over three-year relationship.

It would be nice to finally get married. It would be easier for me; I wouldn't have to try so hard to keep him. Or maybe that's the reason so many marriages fall apart. That spouses think they belong only to each other and don't try anymore. And it's important for the other person to know that you care about them and about this family they share.

I cared about Adam and about love. Luck, so far, had been on my side. Too much. And that worried me. I didn't want it to ever turn away from me, from us.

"Hi, honey," I heard his voice, "I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is Aldera, my sister.

" "I hoped it was just a dream..." I whispered at the sight of a tall figure resembling the Egyptian goddess Bastet.

Bastet had a human body, only the head of a cat, while the creature standing before me looked more like a cat standing on its hind legs. It was the height of a tall man, and the beautiful color of a bright sky. And wings.

"Hello again. I hope you don't mind me inadvertently injuring you?" I anxiously examined my right hand.

"Explain this to me. Are you siblings? How is it possible that you're so different? What happened to my wounds? Who is Aldera? And why did she come here?" Questions flew from my lips at the speed of a space rocket seconds after liftoff.

"Slowly. Let's start by saying, maybe you'll finally say hello to me properly." I obediently walked over to Adam, hugged him, and kissed him

. "Now don't be scared. This should answer some of your questions." Aldera spoke gently, as if explaining to a small child, "I think you can now, brother."

Nothing happened that I could have expected. No blinding light, no riot of colors, no strange creatures. Quite the opposite. Adam reminded me of a black hole. I mean, I'd never seen one, but that's how I imagined it. It was such a strange feeling, as if all my energy had been sucked into him. I felt so small and defenseless against him. And to think that a few minutes ago I'd been kissing him. Fortunately, it ended quickly. And from that nothingness, or rather, from the material void, a creature resembling Aldera emerged. It differed from her only in color. It was the color of the dark, almost black sky just before a storm.

"Is that you, Adam?" I couldn't believe it.

"If you don't believe it, come here." I complied, not without hesitation. "Look into my eyes."

His eyes didn't change. They were that strange color I could never name. A gold rim surrounded the pupil. The color of the rest of the iris changed depending on the owner's mood. Green in moments of happiness, gray for neutral, light blue in anger. I know because I myself possessed eyes with the same property.

Nothing could surprise me anymore that day.

"Well, yes. So for three years I loved..." I almost said "monster."

"Monster." Adam finished for me. "That's right. Allow me to introduce myself and explain the purpose of my visit, as well as my sister's."

"I can't wait," I hissed.

"I'm Zaithe, the Darkness. If you'd prefer us to take on more human forms, we'd be happy to do so. Perhaps it'll be easier for you to talk to us." He suddenly began to care about me! How noble.

"Let it stay as it is.

" "As you wish. You already know my sister. She's the Light. We are opposites. Our task is to find a man who will fulfill the mission.

" "Then look for him somewhere else. I'm not hiding any missionaries. Besides, search my house; you won't find anyone."

"Zaithe claims he's already found one," Aldera said, silent until now.

"Yes. I think you might be the Chosen One.

Me? Why the fuck? I haven't done anything, I've always been good. How am I any different from other people? And what would I do?

" Aldera can read minds.

"Why did you tell her?! I hate you!" She lashed out at him with her claws.

"Relax. Read what you want, I'm not hiding anything. Besides, I don't know how I could hide anything.

" "I'll answer your questions. Whether you're the Chosen One will be revealed after the test. You're no different from the others. We'll talk about your task some other time.

" "A comprehensive explanation." I had the same question on the tip of my tongue. Unfortunately, Adam, this is Zaithe, was faster.

"What? Do you have a better one?" An argument was brewing.

"Truth be told, no." But it didn't break out.

"What kind of test is this?" I wanted to know

. "For three years I was next to you, watching you. I had to get even closer, so I took on the form of a man. The first thing I noticed was your eye color. The same as mine. When I set out, I was told that when I met the Chosen One, I'd know it was him. So, when I saw you, I knew it was you. Oh, how stupid that sounds!

"True," her loving sister interjected

. "Go on.

" "Now," Aldera began. "Zaithe called me. I'm here to test you. We've made a few mistakes already. We don't want to make another one. If you're ready, let's begin.

" "No! No, just a little more. Tell me something about yourselves. Or what the test is about. Or anything.

" "Zaithe, it was a mistake. She's afraid.

" "I'm not afraid! What should I do?

" "Let's go outside. I don't want to destroy your apartment. Maybe you'll come back.

" "Maybe?!?!

Ignore her teasing." Zaithe embraced me tenderly. I decided it was as pleasant as cuddling a human male. I kissed him. He kissed back.

We went out into the yard. For the first time in my life, I was glad I lived in a single-family home, away from other buildings. I even enjoyed that awful, untrimmed hedge instead of a fence! What if a passerby saw them?

I stood where Aldera had indicated. She was facing me. She held out her arms, and I felt a powerful blow. For the second time that day, I fell. The blows became more frequent and more powerful. In the distance, I heard Zaithe's voice. He was screaming for her to stop, that he would kill me. I thought with emotion that he cared for me, that I was still important to him. I felt the blows weaken, stood up, and, imitating my opponent's gesture, extended both arms. As she fell, I lowered my hands.

"Are you okay?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes." She replied, "It's her. Have you used magic before?

" "Nooooo..."

"You're quite a force. You possess great power. Perhaps that's why it was so difficult for me to heal you. You caused me considerable trouble. Now I must depart; my mission is complete. Farewell, Lady. Farewell, brother. Teach her everything you know. It shouldn't be difficult; she has natural talent.

" Aldera didn't rise. She became luminous and transparent. Zaithe wept. He threw himself at her. I felt the same power from him as before. His sister began to change shape. She transformed into a beam of light that emerged from Zaithe's embrace. He knelt for a moment longer, then rose and bowed before me.

"I am at your service, Lady.

" "Why did this happen?

" "She had to die. I found the chosen one, so she had to..." I wanted to hug him, comfort him. He wouldn't let me touch him. "Lady, that's impossible. I am only a servant."

"That's not only possible, but necessary." I know I'm to blame for your sister's death. I hope you'll forgive me someday. She said something about studying. What's that supposed to be? We returned home.

"Magic has become so rampant in the non-magical world lately. There are no longer any completely non-magical beings. There's some element of magic in everyone.

" "Good.

" "Not good." It didn't move. I stared at the small wooden block in front of me and tried again to force it to move.

"It moved. I saw it."

Zaithe tried to comfort me. And he would have succeeded if it weren't for the fact that we'd been coming here, or to a similar place, every day for days and "practicing." Today it took over four hours.

"Shall we go home?" Zaithe suggested.

"Yes," I replied glumly.

We once spent almost a day training, but I still didn't succeed. I wondered if Aldera hadn't died in vain. Because if I wasn't me, ugh, I mean, the Chosen One wasn't me, then did she have to...?

I remember how happy Zaithe was that we'd found the building we were now in, the one we were about to leave. It was an abandoned back room. The shop was still open, still in the same building, but in a much smaller space. And we took over the unused part. Of course, the owner didn't know about us, so we had to be quiet to avoid him finding out. The location was perfect, with a cinema and a restaurant nearby, so a stroll for two lovers wasn't unusual. Even frequent walks.

I took more noisy lessons outside the city, in an old barn. No one went there either. However, a couple of lovers heading in that direction was a strange sight.

My garden was out of the question as a training ground for a magic apprentice, because Zaithe, being a good boyfriend, or husband, as some claimed, which I personally neither confirmed nor denied, had trimmed the hedge, so it no longer frightened the neighbors, but also stopped protecting them from their prying eyes.

We walked home in a gloomy mood. We practiced every day, but it yielded no results. Besides, my vacation and my bank account were running out, so I'd have to go back to work. Oh, how I hated that! I preferred to spend all day practicing magic with Zaithe.

One adapts quickly to new circumstances. Now I couldn't think of Zaithe as anything but Zaithe; after a week, I stopped calling him Adam, even when he was in human form, which he was most of the time.

"I'll prepare a lovely dinner, and then a blissful night. What do you think?"

The thought sent shivers down my spine. I looked into his eyes. They were dark green. Since his sister's death, his eyes were darker, as if devoid of light. Perhaps it was true that in twins, a part of one is in the other. And when one dies, a part of that part disappears from the other twin as well. And since Aldera was light, the light vanished from Zaithe.

We ran home.

Dinner was as lovely as he promised. But the night… It was nothing like I'd imagined.

Zaithe led me to the bedroom, constantly caressing and kissing my body. I wasn't entirely sure what form he was in, sometimes human, sometimes feline, and sometimes in between—that strange dark matter—but it didn't bother me at all. He often shifted unconsciously when aroused. How he had to be on guard for the three years we'd been together before I'd met his other form! I knew that no matter what he looked like, I'd still feel great. Yes, I know it's very selfish, but in moments like these, I could only think about my own pleasure. A man would always manage somehow.

He threw me on the bed. I knew what would happen next. I closed my eyes and thought nothing. Okay, I tried not to think about anything, but the constant stinging of my unshaven legs was still there.

About halfway through the next sting, I felt something completely different from the expected pleasure, because something had entered me, but completely in the wrong place.

I felt something lodged in my soul. And I learned where my soul resided. It sat peacefully in what seemed like every cell of my body, at least that's how it felt. As if each cell had a tiny space for its soul.

And then it started pushing me out. Oh no, I won't allow it! This is my body, and I want my soul to stay in it! I grabbed onto myself as tightly as I could, and the thing stopped. It no longer tried to deprive me of my body. But it was still there, and I didn't like it. I wanted to own myself.

I focused on this desire, and the thing began to recede until it vanished completely.

I opened my eyes and saw Zaithe slumping to the floor. It looked very strange, as if in slow motion. He didn't fall completely, but stretched out his arms, or rather paws, and grabbed the edge of the bed. I was surprised to see he was in monster form. He never took that form when we were about to make love.

"Zaithe! Get up and explain to me immediately what all this means!

Why isn't he doing anything, just lying half on the floor and half on the bed? He could at least explain his appearance to me if he couldn't explain what I was feeling instead of the promised blissful night. And he didn't get up. I was really worried.

I hugged him and tried to feel for a pulse, but I didn't really know where creatures like him had a heart or any arteries.

So I lay helplessly, trying to remember something from my first aid course at school, but the only thing that came to mind was bandaging my hands so my fingers were isolated. Useful for burns. In this case, probably not, because Zaithe didn't have any burns, and even if he did, that cat-paw technique probably wouldn't have worked.

Finally, Zaithe opened his eye. I breathed a sigh of relief. I already knew he wasn't dead, because corpses don't open their eyes. And I really didn't want a corpse in the house. A beloved corpse, at that.

I reassured myself he was alive when he blinked. But I involuntarily jumped when he spoke.

"I love you." Couldn't he have found a better moment for such a confession?

When was the last time he said that? Four years ago? No, it wasn't him... Maybe... never? Possible? I think so, I don't remember telling him that either, so I probably never did.

"I knew I chose the right person." He interrupted my very serious thoughts.

"Did you ever doubt it?" I was starting to get angry. How dare he think I wasn't the right one?

"No. But now I'm more certain." The anger vanished as quickly as he could.

We started laughing. When we finished, everything suddenly seemed more beautiful, as if the alien presence in my soul had been merely a hallucination. Zaithe stood up and extended his hand to me.

"Come, let's have a drink. You've tired me.

" "Me? And how?" I asked, running after him up the stairs to the ground floor and into the kitchen.

"You weren't making progress in your normal training, so I had to try something different. Unfortunately, Aldera was wrong when she said you would be easy to train. You have a gift, but you know how to keep it perfectly contained. It will be easier now. I touched your soul a little.

I didn't comment. All good comments on a situation always come too late. It was the same now.

To be continued.

From hell to the devil's depths

Something told me not to come in here. I don't know how it happens, but every choice I make is wrong. Even if I decide to act against myself and my own way of thinking, I always end up in trouble. Like now.

The older bandit kicked me again. That damned sadist must have enjoyed it, because I don't think he was just doing it to discourage me from running away. That bastard must have thought the mere sight of the weapon had cooled my resolve. He kicked me again, this time under the ribs, and returned to his companions.

The rope binding my hands was quite sturdy. There was no way I could break it. I had to resort to trickery.

"Mr. bandit, would you mind a moment?"

The bearded one approached me, not in a hurry.

"What did he want?

" "Because... I urgently need to...

" "Well, piss in your pants and don't bother me.

Let me meet one of the authors of those recently fashionable adventure books sometime." He'll lose the will to write down unproven ideas for deceiving the kidnapper. Plan number one needs to be crossed out with a thick ink line. Unfortunately, my escape plans ended there. Another opportunity presented itself.

The bandits rose from the table, groaning, taking their belongings with them. Yes, yes, they'd definitely forgotten about me. They'd leave now, forgotten, and some hunter would find me here tomorrow. The bandit's heavy boot shattered that hope. The bearded man lifted me from my knees and pushed me toward the cave entrance. Good God, if I don't think of something now, I'll never find my way home. I waited until we entered the forest and threw myself on the grass. I spat on my beard and started feigning a convulsion.

"Get up, target!" shouted the grizzliest of the bandits.

"Wait, Raven, don't touch me," the bearded man stopped him, who was about to kick him.

"Yeah, better leave the son of a bitch." Only Janosik knows what's wrong with him," the gang leader agreed.

"It could be typhus, or worse... gonorrhea!" the bearded man finished the discussion, and all three jumped back. I don't know anything about medicine, but I know one thing for sure: Stupidity doesn't hurt.

They left, by no means in silence. As soon as they disappeared from the horizon, I ran to the village as fast as I could. I ran into the house. My mother, seeing my devastation, asked sympathetically,

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"No, Mom, you won't believe what happened to me...

" "Of course I won't. You and your fucking excuses. You don't have a father, you bastard—your father would have taught you sense quickly back home. And you brought the mushrooms..."

"Mom, I'm telling you, a terrible thing happened to me..."

"It's not scary, you little gigolo," she added finally, and threw something in my direction. Fortunately, I didn't have the chance to bump into that little thing. I ran out into the yard. There, a brilliant idea struck me – I could become a member of a band of bandits! After all, those bandits weren't so bad..

Description of a day on Olympus

A Day on Mount Olympus

. It was Saturday, December 1, 2005. That morning, my most wonderful and wildest journey began, one I'll never forget. It all began at 4 a.m. in my room. I was sound asleep when a strange creaking sound in the floorboards suddenly woke me. This had been happening more and more frequently in recent days.

Two months ago, I found an old chest in the attic. Opening the lid, I saw an old, beautifully decorated, thick book with yellowing pages and strange inscriptions. Wanting to see my find with my friends, I put it back and quickly ran to call my friends. When we ran to my attic a few minutes later, we nearly tripped with excitement on the stairs. When we finally reached the third floor, which seemed like an eternity, we threw ourselves on the chest as if our lives depended on it. Unfortunately, upon reaching our destination, an incredible sight met our eyes. A bright glow shone in the center of the room. It looked like something from the afterlife, but the most interesting thing was that the box was gone, along with the precious book. My friends started laughing, thinking it was a joke. Only when they saw the horror on my face did they realize it wasn't special effects. Suddenly, the thing vanished, and the room seemed strangely… ordinary. Terrified, we swore to each other we'd never tell anyone about it, that it would be our sweet little secret.

After a moment, everything fell silent again. I slowly got out of bed, knowing I wouldn't sleep again this morning. Slowly, as if through a fog, I walked over to the wardrobe to see myself in the mirror hanging next to the old wardrobe. It was very large. It had large doors and was exquisitely carved. It always made an incredible impression on me. Unfortunately, today I saw an ordinary wardrobe with a mirror on the side. Looking at them, I saw a little girl with delicate features, tears like pearls streaming down her pale cheeks, catching at the corners of her swollen lips.

For a thirteen-year-old, I was graceful and quite popular with the boys. Unfortunately, that strange phenomenon now worried me. To this day, I can't forget it.

A moment later, I was at the clothes closet. I slowly put on a tight white blouse, denim shorts, and colorful socks. I quickly put on my slippers and carefully left the room. To avoid waking anyone, I slowly climbed up to the attic. The stairs only creaked softly twice under my feet. Almost at the top, I tripped and almost fell down the stairs. After a moment of listening to make sure I hadn't woken anyone, and no one was bothering me anymore, I entered the dark room, looking around. Everything was in its place, yet I felt uneasy. Taking cautious steps, I approached the mysterious chest. Suddenly, a white glow appeared before me. From this eerie portal, a tall, beautiful man slowly stepped out. I was so frightened I couldn't move. I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. Suddenly, the figure spoke. It spoke in a calm, low voice, but an involuntary shiver ran down my spine.

"Don't worry, beautiful one. I am Apollo, god of the sun, light, and oracles.

" "How did you end up here?" I asked, looking suspiciously.

"We gods have our secrets," the stranger replied with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"What do you want from me?" I shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"As I said, I'm a god. And you're the chosen one," he said calmly.

"Go away or I'll call the police," I threatened, but I didn't seem to impress him

. "Mere mortals can't do anything to me," he declared. "But this isn't the time for my boasting. Let me, the gods are waiting."

"How can I be sure you're not a rapist and won't hurt me?" I asked suspiciously.

"I'd love to, but thank you. I'm at work," he declared with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Hurry up. I don't get paid for overtime."

"I'm not going anywhere," I replied firmly. "Unless you conjure me a rose."

"How ungrateful," Apollo muttered under his breath, then conjured a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "Will you come with me now?"

"I have nothing to lose," I said calmly, then took a step closer.

"Let's go," the delighted god shouted. "Grab my hand and don't let go."

"Hurry," I urged. "I don't want to wait here all day."

"You're welcome," he replied, and we soared into the air together.

We rose quickly, until the whole world spun before my eyes. Only various colors and strange patterns flashed by. When we finally slowed down, I saw beautiful fields below me, covered with the most magnificent plants. I felt like I was in paradise. I'd never seen such views in my life. Beautiful apples grew on the trees, and animals roamed the ground. Trying to memorize these sights, I closed my eyes and "lost myself in a world of dreams." I didn't even notice the great mountain range that emerged from the sea. Only after a moment did I notice this breathtaking view. Against the sapphire water, a beautiful hill loomed in the mist, covered with the strangest, yet most beautiful, plants. With the sunrise, it was an incredible sight. Gazing dreamily ahead, I forgot all about my unknown companion.

"It's so beautiful here," I asked. "Where are we?"

"Don't you know this place?" "He asked, surprised. "You must have studied that.

" "Possibly," I replied. "But it's gorgeous here."

"We're not there yet," he replied, smiling slightly. "The views are there ." "We'll

see." I ended the conversation and devoted myself to admiring the landscape

. Flying slowly toward the island, I wondered if this strange journey had anything to do with that book and the chest. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice when we arrived. Finding ourselves right on the shore of a sandy, golden beach, we began a slow descent. Landing, I noticed a strange structure on a hill, reminiscent of an ancient temple. After analyzing recent events, I concluded that I had traveled through time and space to ancient Greece, and the building, resembling a sacred site, was none other than Mount Olympus, the residence of the gods. Slightly surprised by my discoveries, I looked around, gathering evidence. Unfortunately, I saw nothing suspicious, except a hill covered with beautiful bushes and flowers. Suddenly, I saw a blazing flame at the top. Terrified by the thought that a fire had broken out, I began to beg Apollo for help. If he truly was a god, he could prevent the impending disaster.

"Apollo!" I exclaimed, "If you truly are a god, save Olympus!" "

I see you already know what this place is," said the delighted god

. "Why are you laughing?" I asked, "Why aren't you saving Olympus

?" "And what am I supposed to save it from?" he mocked happily. "You're the only threat here.

" "Don't be silly," I begged. "Everything's burning there."

"It's the Eternal Fire," he said, laughing. "It's harmless ."

"I'm sorry, I thought..." I replied, embarrassed, "...that it was burning there."

"Don't worry," he consoled me. "Let's go, they're expecting us."

Flushed with embarrassment, I followed him, remaining silent the entire way. As I reached the summit, I forgot my foolish behavior and studied the path we were taking. It was evenly paved with stones. An impenetrable forest grew all around, and the peak of the buildings loomed before us. When we finally reached the end of the path, a breathtaking sight met our eyes. Beautiful fields covered with flowers and grain swaying in the wind, stone houses with small fireplaces, and in the center of the square, a large temple, before which an eternal flame burned. Apollo invited me inside with a friendly gesture. As I entered, a blinding light struck me. When my eyes finally adjusted to the prevailing light, I saw a narrow corridor lined with paintings and bas-reliefs on the walls. Apollo, seeing my curiosity, explained that the paintings depicted the history of the world, while the sculptures depicted the rise of Olympus. While chatting for a moment about the past of the gods, I didn't notice when we reached the great hall. I stopped as if struck by lightning. The room was enormous. I thought it was some kind of cult, but when I looked up, all my doubts vanished. In the center sat the all-powerful Zeus. His gray beard coiled beneath his legs like a snake, and his weary eyes gazed down at me. When he spoke in his voice, ignoring any opposition, the walls trembled, and the flames dimmed.

"Earthly creature," he closed his eyes, "you surely see my plight. Will you help me, the most important of the gods?

" "But you never need help," I said suspiciously, looking at him. "You are self-sufficient.

" "That's how it was until now," he replied with sadness in his voice, "but the time has come when I must seek the advice of mortals.

" "But why did it fall on me?" I asked, surprised. "There are so many others.

" "You're right," he said, "but you're the only one who's seen the Holy Book."

"I knew you meant it," I snorted. "Stupid book!"

"Don't say that," Zeus shouted, making the walls tremble. "It's a divine object!"

"I'm sorry," I replied contritely, "but what am I supposed to do then?"

"Tell me," he asked calmly, "what do you people think of us, gods and immortals?

" "Everyone thinks differently," I said with amusement. "I think you're doing well, because you're doing nothing. You're just feasting and drinking the immortals' potion."

"I knew you'd be like this," the ruler said quietly. "Well, thank you, we can send you back home now."

"Please," I said in a pleading tone, "it's only noon. Let me explore your world."

"Okay," Zeus agreed, "but only until sunset."

Apollo, who had been standing to the side and listening to the conversation, slowly approached me. Signaling for me to follow him, he hurried outside. Asking him why Zeus had asked me such strange questions, he replied sadly that the Holy Council suspected that humans despised the gods. Comforting him, I suggested he show me around. He agreed, and we wandered around, admiring and observing nature. In the meantime, Apollo told me a little about the gods and their customs. Just as the sun set, we set off on our return journey. Flying skyward, I looked down at the gods' residence for the last time. I was very happy to have experienced such a history lesson and longingly watched the setting sun, a sunset unlike any other in the human world. However, I secretly hope that I will be able to experience such a wonderful adventure again someday.

Look

Look—how beautiful they are. How wonderful they are, the most wonderful, beyond wonderful, beyond perfect, the most beautiful possible. She has blonde curls and is well-dressed. He has black hair. A leather jacket and a cell phone. He has his own style, he has a job and he has it, the perfect her, in pink shoes—no, not tacky ones, not just the same great ones, matching the great jacket, in front of his right and left bum. She also has two handbags, yes two, one floating lightly like a suitcase, almost behind her, the other driving, resembling a Mercedes, but actually hiding beneath it piles of cosmetics, piles of clothes, millions, billions of underwear, false eyelashes, fingernails, and other artificial body parts.

They stop, watch out, or you'll fall out the window! She didn't want to stare so passionately at this perfect couple. The curtains on the windows weren't PVC, and not very clean, because Easter was coming up. They wouldn't cover her pimpled little monster face, her tiny nose wouldn't hide her big complexions. And the cat sitting next to her even had, in a certain millionth of a hundredth of a second, the opportunity and such luck, such a happy desire, to slide down from the already warmed by his fur, the overgrown, worn-out, whitish-black doorframe where he spends his miserable, feline life. He would have jumped, maybe he would have hit a head of perfect curls, maybe he would have hit a mop of raven-black hair. Or maybe it would have crashed into a red fire hydrant, and then a small red car, the last off the assembly line, would have run over it, and its owner, a short law and pedagogy student at the same time, would have wondered, racked her brains, pondered why the piece of tire wasn't as clean as it could have been if it had wanted to, if it had survived the day before.

So she hadn't hidden herself very well, not to say hopelessly inaccurately, and so her perfect eyes were tainted by your ugliness, little lady. Why do you peek out from under that curtain like a street urchin to a soldier condemned to death? Why don't you resemble any pleasant image, not even a pure image from our minds, even those of a train station? As luck would have it, or perhaps someone else's, a black balloon happened to be passing by her window, and when she saw, by the natural law of physics, her face, she wanted to have it, to give herself a new one. She went to the bathroom, washed off the old pimples, peeled off her old hair, donned a new outfit, and glued on new eyes. She looked beautiful. She was beautiful.

- I like couples like that.

Silence. It sounded so sudden that it seemed foolish to break it, foolish to say: Mom, I have a new face today, maybe you'd notice? She sat down in the kitchen, because that's where the action was happening. The perfect couple paused for a moment, walking, perhaps with a greater chance of a diarrhea-stricken pigeon shitting on their heads. They were just passing right by a fire hydrant, the cat shuddered because of the black backs. He was daydreaming rather unnecessarily, his eyes glittering dangerously, his pupils dilated dangerously. No one heard his delight at the event that had unfolded so suddenly and unexpectedly, that he, from the window, had seemingly changed his life, and everything would be different. Maybe after death, someone would bring a 'New Day' newspaper to his grave, that he was the first cat in the world to commit suicide, the first to be so ready for it.

"I really like couples like that," my mother continued, stroking the curtain, wiping away bits of dust [clumped-up particles of human skin], not even noticing that she was enjoying it, that she'd just pressed such a pretty embroidered flower to her fist. One that desperately wants to have colors and is always brown when you eat breakfast in the kitchen, melted Nestle Chokapiks from yesterday, sticking to the roof of your mouth, telling you how you've been lying in the fridge all day, all pain and cold. Today they won't behave as well as before and have no taste at all. Only by the fact that only the empty package remains in the cupboard can you tell what kind of cereal it actually is, although this state, this situation, as far as their identity is concerned, isn't all that certain either—look how they get into the car, how they don't crush it at all. No trash, no babies. They could only be Armani or Dior, wearing designer diapers and designer bottom sprinkles, or maybe even designer bottoms? You never know. Look at their glasses, look at their car doors. I like couples like that. If someone, like them, could be perfect, so clean, so pure, it would be wonderful, there would be beauty in the world.

Mother wasn't much different from a cat. Only in the windows she was glued to. Only in the faces she looked at and addressed her monologues to. And she had a dirtier curtain.

The taste of the chocolate shells stuck to her body spread like iron quickly punched in the ass. Why must perfect people walk so slowly, so that you can't even stick your nose out for long, lest you infect them with ugliness, leprosy of the most devastating kind. Their eyes, green and blue, those two kinds, bought from a shop selling artificial eyes, rot under the influence of the influx of horrors. Don't claim happiness, with a face like that no one does.

But wait. She remembered that this morning, she'd gotten a new face. Just because she hadn't noticed the cat momma window wasn't a reason for nothing. She'd once seen three priests on a tram with backpacks, jeans under their cassocks. You're riding, you don't know where, you don't know how long you waited at the stop, you don't know if there's a tragedy going on back home, because the psycho cat could jump out at any moment. You're riding, and at a certain moment, so you won't remember if it's reality or a dream. You see and look intently at the billboard, you see and see the perfect couple. How they smile at each other, at you, and speak to you in a language written in mysterious symbols: Drink a Coke, you'll be like us. You'll have babies with Armani bottoms and Dior hair. No pigeon will touch your nose, no one will bother you. Wonderful, perfect, wonderful, colorful. She stopped dead in her tracks. The priests in cassocks stood right behind her. The world stood behind her, even though she was usually alone. Although usually no one noticed she had even passed, that she was reflected in the KFC restaurant windows, and no one smiled at her. Usually, no bus would be especially late for her, or especially in a hurry.

He'd known this from the moment he saw her. From the moment he saw her, he saw stars in the blue firmament of his palate of pleasure. He didn't want to interrupt any of his moments, anymore, because every semblance of his life yearned for him to see her, to know it, just one sentence: you're a witch, my love. To say it, before the ends of his hair became his lips, his eyes bulged from his orbs, flowed into his belly, the image would twist, twirl, purely perceptual, creatively cardiac, so that his heart would stop and his brain would bravely push forward, for some unknown reason. I've never been one. I don't know how it works, how it all happens, how many grams of heat spread throughout the body, how much water stagnates between the stomach and the foot, how much of the blue blood, in which millimeter of vein, freezes so that you want to scream, fall, roll in clods of December mud. But you still stand.

Because she looked, looked, looked. And someone had to stick that billboard. Someone had to climb a tall ladder, cover themselves in glue, one by one, glue on the nose, the right nostril, the left nostril, the left pupil, the right pupil, the middle eye, which no one sees because the perfect lady has a good beautician, and since you couldn't genetically change your face, you couldn't make a new one, you could do nothing but blur it, like with concealer. Hair by hair. The key of an atom, a color pixel, one to the other. Today, he was assembling the face of the perfect lady. He had had enough, the monotony of the day, he had had enough of his reflection in the mirror, the musty cold in the refrigerator, the dirty IKEA sofa, the Plus phone, and the only way to answer was through ID. Always the same breakfast, always the same breakfast, the same view from the window, the same benches, the same windowsills, children with the same expressions, the shapes of lollipops in their grimy hands. Conversations that seemed to be addressed to him, yet not to him at all, words that flew too far to chase and catch with one hand, but you do, and it turns out it was all pointless.

Still the same, still the same.

He wanted to do something particularly cool, this time passing by tram, cold streets, cold people with cold gazes, small eyes, small mouths, cold buildings, in cold walls, one pink one and a lawn. He clung to the idea that he would stick it, that he would help, that he would do it.

In an instant, everything resolved itself. Mother's green eyes, grandmother's smile, raspberry lips. The sweet scent of beauty, Nikola's red hair, allowed in films for ages 12 and up. It all got confusing, exploded, stood still.

And once again, remember that look. And once again, wasn't it a bit like St. Teresa of Calcutta? And with delight.

"Excuse me, darling, do you know you're a witch?" I could make you scrambled eggs for breakfast. I'd have bought colorful curtains, or soft-boiled eggs. The sweet smell spreads by the sink between the stove and salted butter, and not just food, mornings with a different view, perhaps with the sun in the background, one of many, perhaps some happiness on the clock, as if time stood still and lasted and was completely ours, and that's all, that's all I'd want.

Don't say you were looking then, don't say, because you were looking for a long moment longer, at the teeth of a perfect girl with curls. And at the green eyes from the knob shop, and the green reflections of screams from the dry cleaners where the sexy white blouse, with its high, wonderfully fashionable ruffle, was washed. And you wondered about so many stupid things, what sandals would go with those, and what miserable thoughts flashed through his head as he stood next to the woman of his life, with whom he shared a Mercedes, a large bed, a Jeep in the garage, and the bottom of an Armani baby.

You became a pillar when you froze for a moment. You were already in the future, a future you could only strive for with your consciousness, and so you were there, as close to it as you could, gingerly touching the ends of your hair, cautiously observing the world around you with your gaze, as if tomorrow were about to unfold.

You smelled burnt scrambled eggs. It was unpleasant, as if you could see, the pot completely black from the bottom, as if you could see, the smoke settling on the kitchen cabinet, so that its color changed to what it was supposed to be when you chose it—not light birch, but dark oak—that's how this fragment did to you in spite of you, because under the influence of a liquid, almost unborn chicken, from some poor country hen that had to save so that its grain would last for a better tomorrow, it tore its structure apart completely, lost its dream of being this way and not another, and its native skin color ended.

You dragged yourself out of bed, perhaps in a pink bathrobe, perhaps in slippers, caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, went to where the stench was unbearable. You went to the kitchen, went and saw what you dreamed of: almost everything blackened, the new furniture, even the windows of the stove, infected with burnt smoke. Everything black, everything. The view from the window, all the clouds, blackened.

You look out the window, a red fire hydrant standing there. You run downstairs, see blood, and you see your own tears on your eyelashes, red. You look as if you'd seen a picture long ago, you look at it, imprinted in a dream sometime ago, one day on the tram, one day, across the street, as if you only knew yourself by sight. A cat, all black. With a red drop on its nose. A black cat, black clouds, black before your eyes. He went out to get the newspaper, didn't notice. He left, he can't walk anymore. Tears drip onto the road, you see the princess from your dreams, you see the knight and the round table. You're no longer normal, you're no longer yourself, you're no longer that same girl.

"Please step aside, a man died here."

Sweet Temptation (Part 7)

I buried my face in the soft pillow and let the tears that were falling from my eyes disappear into the fragrant sheets. I needed a friend so desperately. Someone who would come, offer a helping hand, say a kind word. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a single person I'd be closer to. Until then, only Kamil mattered. He was the one I'd confided all my secrets to, the one I'd sought advice from, my only and greatest friend. For the first time, I realized that besides this boy, I had no one in my life. Yes, parents... But a parent shouldn't be the main character in a fifteen-year-old's daily life. Yes, friends... But it's not just any friend you confide every secret to. It's not a friend who knows you inside and out. I was too busy with Kamil to pay attention to what was happening outside the two of us.

I cried, bitterly digging my clenched hands into the pillow. I woke up... Too late, I woke up from this fairy tale that wasn't supposed to end with a happy ending. I tried with all my might to push away this thought, which was pounding my heart more and more painfully.

I felt that the only person who could cheer me up and pull me out of this depression was Marcin. Subconsciously, I longed for him to knock on my door, enter with a smile, and say, "Surprise!" Unfortunately… I knew that sooner or later I would have to face reality and finally confront it. Kamil didn't deserve to be treated this way, to be kept in suspense and fear. The only problem was that I wasn't entirely sure what I wanted… Habit prevented me from simply saying, "It's over," completely cutting the most important person out of my life. I couldn't imagine what a day would be like without seeing Kamil, talking, joking around, or even arguing.

A firm knock reached my ears, and before I could wipe my tears, the door to my room opened, revealing my mother. I gave her a questioning look and quickly began to cover up the traces of my tears. However, as if she had long known that I was sobbing and despairing, confined to the four walls of my room, she paid no attention to my condition.

"Majka, come to the living room," she asked curtly, and then, without waiting for an answer, she left. I took a deep breath and heaved myself up onto my hands. I felt weak and tired. Sniffling, I wiped my tears and slowly made my way to the living room. When I entered, my parents were sitting opposite each other, silent, as if waiting for something. I sat in the armchair next to them and wordlessly examined them

with tear-stained eyes. "We need to talk, and this time I'm not going to give in so easily," my mother announced after a moment, watching me seriously.

"What's the matter again?" I groaned, sighing heavily.

"Don't you think we should be the ones asking you?" My father gave me a stern look. I felt an unpleasant shiver run through me, which didn't portend anything good.

"I don't care. You wanted to talk.

" "Yes... We want to talk to you. Unfortunately, it's not a mutual desire." Dad, as composed as ever, perfectly crafted each sentence. This skill made him adept at sneaking up on me and extracting any information from my mouth. I swallowed hard and nervously clasped my hands together.

"You think I have problems again, don't you? So for the hundredth time, I repeat: I DON'T.

" "And you're lying again." Father began to persistently observe a vague point in front of him.

"We see what's happening to you. You're crying in the corner, you're acting like some kind of poisoned person..." Mom added in a trembling voice. I exhaled loudly, trying to calm the storm that was raging inside my head.

"Yes. But you can't help me. You can't. Do you understand, Mom? Dad...?

" "We can. We're your parents, and we can definitely help you. It's just that you don't even want to share what's bothering you with us."

"Because I'm already fifteen, damn it...! No girl my age confides in her parents about her worries, just stupid problems every teenager has. You act like you don't understand! I'm not your property, and I have no intention of sharing everything with you. There are things I have to suffer on my own, things I have to decide on my own...!" I don't even know how I ended up standing instead of sitting, but after finishing my explanation, I plopped back down into my chair and closed my eyes.

"Maybe you don't remember, but we were fifteen once too. We've been through a lot. And we can help you more than anyone else.

" "But I don't want your help. Understand this finally...

"

A light autumn breeze ruffled my hair in all four directions, making it more and more disheveled with each passing second. I closed my eyes and savored the peace. The only sound I could hear was the sound of the river flowing just below me. I looked up at the sun setting behind the trees. Day by day, its light grew fainter… As if slowly preparing us for a cold, weary winter. I leaned against the bridge railing and pondered the meaning of my own existence. The meaning of life. The meaning of the world…

"And when you're down... You feel lonely... And when you want to run away... Trust yourself and don't give up... You know you're better than anyone else..." The words of the song quietly escaped my lips. A single tear rolled down my cheek. Was it from sadness...? Or maybe it was just the cold that forced that drop from my eyes...? I zipped my thin, green jacket up to my neck and rubbed my frozen hands together. I nervously glanced at my watch and cursed under my breath, seeing that I'd been standing here for fifteen minutes. A thought flashed through my mind: everyone's late lately. Bad luck...? It's just a shame my... I turned my head toward one end of the bridge, where the girls were supposed to be coming from. But, to my chagrin, there was no one there.

"Too bad..." I muttered to myself, then started back. I couldn't wait like this forever. I briskly walked through the almost dark park alleys, dreaming only of crawling under a blanket with tea in one hand and the remote control in the other. A cheerful melody reached my ears, and I automatically pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket. I glanced at the screen. "Marcin is calling." I fought with myself for a moment before pressing the red receiver. It wasn't fair. It wouldn't be fair to Kamil. To start one thing, you have to finish another. Less than a minute had passed when the phone started ringing loudly again. This time, I held my finger on the red button longer. The phone turned off, and I put it back in my pocket with relief...

*

"Come..." his voice rippled in my head, filling every single part of my brain. "Majka... I'll be waiting for you..." I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it... My stomach turned upside down at the mere memory of the call. I didn't answer the next day... Not on Sunday, not on Monday... But he persisted. He called every day for those three days. I finally gave in... I knew I'd regret it. I just didn't expect it to be in this context...

And Kamil waited. He waited faithfully, asking no questions. We had contact... but it was based only superficially on Gadu Gadu... I preferred not to. I didn't want to talk because I was afraid he'd ask. And he preferred not to ask, just to talk...

The closer the party got, the more I thought about it. I wanted to go... But the fear that this time I wouldn't be able to stop myself, that this time his eyes and the alcohol would lead me down a tunnel from which I wouldn't emerge anytime soon... And what's more, I didn't want to play behind Kamil's back like that. Even if I hadn't betrayed him... I would simply be having a great time while he agonized over my inexplicable behavior.

"I won't go... I can't... And don't ask why..." I whispered into the receiver, then, with a curt "bye," I hung up. I'll lose Kamil... I'll lose him because I don't want him to be mine. For me to be his... Marcin won't be there either. He'll leave it alone. There were too many misunderstandings and deceptions on my part... The vision of the future was more overwhelming than I could have imagined. I'd ruined everything. I'm ruining everything, and I'll continue to ruin everything. Because I'm only fifteen. And unfortunately, you learn from your mistakes...

*

With hesitant movements, I applied pearly eyeshadow to my eyelids. I laboriously tried to blend it perfectly. After all, I had no experience in this area. Previously, I'd only worn makeup for school discos or for friends' birthdays spent listening to "Picollo." This time, the occasion was completely different. There weren't supposed to be any friends, let alone Picollo...

"Majka, I don't like all this," Mom appeared in the doorway, still ajar. "If you're sleeping at Sandra's, what's the point of all this? Why makeup?

" "I told you, all the girls will be wearing makeup," I lied, momentarily freezing with the brush in my hand. "It's St. Andrew's Day, we'll be telling fortunes, taking pictures...

" "Surely her parents know about your idea?

" "Mom..." I looked at my mother with superiority. "Stop it. I'm fifteen, I'm not a child. What's all the fuss about? It's just one night away from home... And at Sandra's, too...

" "I still have a bad feeling...

" "No need." I wiped the slightly discolored brush against the light, pearly eyeshadow in the round container. "Nothing bad will happen..."

*

Trying to squeeze into the tight, red T-shirt, I tried to finally shake off any doubts about this outing. I was afraid... I was terribly afraid that something would come to light. And I had a lot to hide...

From the cabinet above my desk, I took out my recently purchased perfume and, holding it at a comfortable distance from my body, dabbed it on my neck and wrists. In an instant, the pleasant scent I'd so thoroughly enjoyed upon purchase filled my nostrils. Feeling a nervous knot in my stomach, I ran out into the hallway and critically assessed the efforts of the past hour. The red tank top was trimmed with lace, and its tight material beautifully accentuated my ample breasts and concave stomach. A sliver of exposed skin separated them from the low-cut, contrastingly wide trousers. The jeans, though they didn't hug her legs or hips, gave her whole figure that "something." A triumphant smile appeared on her face, and her gaze drifted to her upper body, which was no less neat. Her slightly curled hair fell temptingly over her shoulders, and her light, flattering makeup added charm and depth. To think that if it weren't for Patryk's call, I'd be sitting in bed, tormenting myself, as usual, with depressing thoughts about life... Kamil and I. What made me decide to go to this party? Certain magical words... Words I'd heard from the same person before, only chosen slightly differently... "

Live life to the fullest. Don't worry about anything, don't deny yourself pleasure for nothing. Unless you'd rather die... Kill your spirit, which now yearns to get the most out of this very life. Do you still remember our conversation about Mr. X...?"

*

With a smile on my face, I crossed the threshold of Patryk's house. In my mind's eye, I could already see Marcin, the look on his face when he saw me… because he thought I wouldn't come. I was sure of it myself this morning… The stranger who had let me in had blended into the small crowd that was causing a tremendous stir throughout the living room. This time, unlike my last visit, the music was playing at full volume, creating a sensation of "shaking windows." My hands were shaking with nervousness, and my heart was beating like crazy. Happy… I was happy again. My eyes watched the commotion with joy, and my lips formed a smile of their own accord. After a moment of such meditation, I took a deep breath and hesitantly moved forward, searching for familiar faces. In search of Patryk. In search of Marcin…

Children of the Supernova Chapters 3 and 4

____________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 3

____________________________________________________________________________________

FEDERATION DATA BANK

BRANCH No. HTS4568328EED

SPECIALIZATION: Unknown

SPECIFICATION: Unknown

HEADQUARTERS: Unknown

STATUS: Restricted (Access Level: %#$%#^^@)

WARNING: LOG OUT!!!

Shandra stared in disbelief at what appeared on the monitor. A data bank impersonating a nonexistent Federation branch, effectively impersonating it, because if it still exists, that means the cops haven't tracked it down. Or maybe it's some kind of trick, like those virus databases that, with a single click, bring down your system, before spreading to all your friends?

But no. After checking a few things, Sha discovered with some surprise that the mysterious bank had been online for quite some time, and virus databases were appearing and disappearing like mushrooms after the rain. Of course, one could assume that some hacker was skilled enough to have managed to evade the cops. But that would contradict the cardinal rule in this environment: "do your job quickly and disappear, covering all traces." No professional would announce their online presence like that, publicly. And anyone foolish enough to do so would be caught immediately.

Besides, the mysterious Someone at the bank hadn't tried to be subtle at all. The specifications were unknown, so to speak. If she had wanted to encourage innocent, unsuspecting internet users to visit her virus bank, she would have provided the most reliable information possible. And the mysterious Someone acted as if he were trying to scare away potential "customers" by providing the most suspicious information possible.

"What's going on here..." – she muttered to herself, while doing some reconnaissance.

After her strange conversation with Dail, she felt a bit devastated, unsure what to make of it all, especially considering her father's behavior, but not so devastated that she couldn't do what she had to do. So, as soon as she returned to her room, she shook herself—a skill she'd mastered perfectly over the years—and returned to her work. She didn't learn anything new from the documents she'd downloaded, but she wasn't overly disappointed; she'd expected that. It only confirmed what she already knew, something that had been nagging at her for six years: David and Suzana Kilpatrick weren't her biological parents. It wasn't really that; after all, she wasn't the only adopted child in the universe, as evidenced by the terabytes of data on the subject in various banks. It wasn't even that they hadn't told her, or that she hadn't felt like their child. On the contrary, she'd always felt wanted and loved, no less than Julie or Gavin. Sometimes she even thought that should have been enough, that she was reading too much into the whole thing, that she should give up her search, even tell her family, but every time such thoughts came to her, something like today happened.

Her father was covering for Daile. Not for the first time, anyway. Instead of taking her side or even explaining anything to her, he simply told her to go to sleep.

She wiped away an unwanted tear and scrolled through the adoption records again. What mattered wasn't what was there, but what wasn't.

The lack of any information about her biological parents was one thing. Her medical records, modified later than the rest, were two. And finally, three, the Kilpatricks' personal data was incomplete and often contradictory to what she had managed to determine using other sources, with the financial data showing particularly poor consistency. According to official reports, before the adoption and the subsequent—and equally puzzling—move to Celeborn, Suzana and David worked in their own company, just as they do now. However, after a closer look, Shandra concluded that the company didn't yet exist physically back then, and the money flowed to her parents from some other, mysterious source. Stranger still, according to public records, the Kilpatricks had previously lived in a medium-sized town on Sessleya in the Sardram system, only a few spacecraft from Marrayar. But Sha, posing as an official from the Federation Demographics Office, questioned everyone who might know anything about it, and it turned out that none of the supposed neighbors remembered a young couple with a child, like Gavin at the time. However, they did remember quite well a different, noisy family of seven, living in the house the Kilpatricks were supposed to occupy. Sha even went so far as to show Gavin several holograms from Sessleya. He didn't recognize any of them. He claimed, however, that from his early childhood, all he remembered was a large, menacing Starfleet fighter, which he sometimes dreamed of. That was why he had insisted on becoming a pilot. When he asked his parents where they'd seen it, they looked at each other strangely and said they couldn't remember exactly, but that there must have been some military exhibition on Sessleya when they lived there, and that must have been where he'd seen the fighter. This conversation led to a series of strange, evasive, and quickly cut short conversations about Sessleya and the Kilpatricks' previous home. Julie wanted to see the photos, but her mother claimed that some of their luggage, containing all the photos, films, and holograms, had gone missing during the move. Julie refused to believe it; after all, her mother always carried a huge stack of photos in her wallet and had about thirty films loaded onto her laptop. Suzana defended herself, saying she'd developed this habit precisely because of that event. She convinced Gavin and Julie, but not Shandra.

Furthermore, the fighter model Gavin was describing hadn't been produced until three years after they'd settled on Celeborn IV. It was the least convincing evidence; it could mean absolutely nothing. After all, the mind plays the strangest tricks on people, but it was strangely unsettling.

She sighed, making a mental note to check what the intelligent probes she'd sent out, modeled after Class 10 virtual cops, had managed to dig up about her parents' sources of income, and she set about breaching the security of the mysterious data bank.

At 3:30 a.m., she gave up, having learned nothing, after a spectacular escape from whatever had detected and located her, seemingly without the slightest problem.

"Damn it!" she expressed her frustration with a whispered curse. She made sure it hadn't gotten to her after all, triple-checked the security, closed all connections to the outside world, and went to bed, only to lose touch with a reality she didn't particularly like for three hours, sinking into the blissful depths of sleep—black, deep, and visionless.

__________________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 4

__________________________________________________________________________________________

On a forgotten planet somewhere on the outskirts of the Milky Way, the cradle of civilization called Earth, once blue-white and beautiful, now empty and barren, a sigh could be heard in a bunker built deep beneath the surface. A tall, well-built individual, recognizable as a human at first glance, stretched out in the comfortable armchair that surrounded him on all sides.

"What's up, Merl?" Addressing the author of the sigh, he broke the long-simmering silence that had been hanging over the room.

From another armchair, seemingly larger only because the creature sitting in it was frail and much smaller than its companion, a hoarse voice answered:

"Someone tried to break in again.

" "So, did they succeed?" The larger man glanced longingly at the door disappearing into the darkness—his shift ended in two hours—and then looked at his colleague. Damn, he thought, how can this Perlesian last so long? As far as he knew, Merl had never left this forbidden planet, even leaving the control room to eat and sleep, which was very rare for him. Unlike Merl, his large, red-haired companion was human, and although this planet was considered the cradle of his race, he didn't like being here. He couldn't wait for the shuttle to arrive with the next crew. Six months away from this hellhole—that was all he dreamed of.

Merl dismissed the giant's question with a disapproving grunt.

"Then why are you sighing so much? Someone's always trying to break in. "

Before answering, the Perlesian ran his very slender, six-fingered hands over the touchscreen.

"Because"—he heavily emphasized each word, perhaps to add meaning, but more likely because of the outdated bioelectronic device replacing his larynx, which he refused to replace with a newer one—"this wasn't just any ordinary break-in attempt, Amber."

The redhead grimaced, as he always did when he heard his name.

"What was so special about it?"

"Even if you ignore the fact that it almost worked...

" "WHAT???

" "...even if you ignore that fact, there's something else unusual. I've traced the source to Celeborn IV," the Perlesian said, ignoring his colleague's shocked expression.

Their gazes met. Merlin narrowed his eyes, his silver-gray, pupil-less irises. Some people found it difficult to look into them, feeling as if they were talking to a blind person, but Amber had known the old Perlesian long enough to get used to it.

"The same distinctive signature?" he asked.

"Yes." Merl sighed again. "Although very cleverly camouflaged, you have to admit. It took me almost ten minutes to locate the source," he added, appreciating the mysterious burglar. "Besides, reaching a specific person is impossible. Even disregarding the planet's natural handicaps, our someone has taken good precautions."

Amber shifted in his seat and scratched the back of his neck, a habit he'd developed a few days after his first arrival. It was the presence of the metacrystals into which much of the planet's core had been transformed that was affecting him. He couldn't understand how Merl could stand it.

"One of our enemies?

" "Perhaps." Merlin ran his fingers over the symbols on the screen. His arms were bent in a way that had always seemed unnatural to Amber, even though he'd known Merl for years. "Or maybe not. Look what he was getting at."

The red-haired giant groaned and leaned forward in his seat to access the screen lying flat in front of him.

"Mhmmm..." he muttered as columns of data began to flash on the appropriate screen. "I wonder. Who could find that cleverly placed reference in the adoption documents and simultaneously send out probes for the Kilpatricks' monetary transactions?

" "Try your brain and guess," Merl snorted. "And don't forget, this isn't the first time we've breached the seal on data even indirectly related to this case. And the search seems to align. Who do you think…

" "Oh, your countrymen, for example. They know best that following the money trail can lead to some really interesting places…"

The Perlesian's whole demeanor expressed pity and irritation.

"…or…" Amber continued, "you don't think that…

" "What I think means nothing. What matters is what SHE thinks." The word "SHE" was pronounced in clear, capital letters.

"Do you really think SHE needs to be informed?

" "Yes." Merl ended the discussion before it even really began, running his fingers across the screen, and the communications metacrystals in the planet's core momentarily became metacrystals elsewhere. The message was transmitted.

To be continued.